She awakes with no memory of how she got where she is. She has no name. Her only possession is a book full of blank pages, save for two words. She does not speak, she does not know, she does not understand.
There was pain, followed by light, and then more pain. There was a sensation of being squeezed out, crushed on all sides, a feeling of immense pressure that threatened to collapse existence. The pain was unbearable and threatened to consume all conscious thought.
Then, there was light, which somehow made the pain worse. Light brought burning agony upon the eyes and pierced the brain with burning lances which could not be resisted. Light was a strange and terrible thing, something unknown… something mythical and spoken of in whispers.
The light burned away memory, like words vanishing from a page, leaving behind a blank book. Blank. All of existence was being scrubbed away, all memory, everything that made her who and what she was, it was all being burned away, leaving her blank.
As the words retreated from the pages of the book that was her life, the terrible knowledge of what she was and her unbearable existence was taken from her. Unsettling memories became dim, like a burning candle moving far away and allowing the all consuming darkness to gather.
Vague flashes of troubled memories played before her eyes. Terrible creatures with jagged teeth, writhing tentacles, membranous wings, and misshapen bodies that defied description. And they had done things to her. Terrible things. Awful things. They wanted her to be like them. She was like them, except that she wasn’t.
But that didn’t matter now as the slate was being wiped clean. The book of her life lost words from its pages. She wasn’t like them, she would not conform, she would not obey, she did not give into the darkness as they had. They had tried to break her, but already, those memories were vanishing, going away, taken, stolen…
It seemed to be the worst thing they could do to her, taking away everything that she was, everything she could be, stealing from her the experiences that made her what she had become. What had she become? Already, she couldn’t remember. As the light burned into her mind and the agony reached new levels beyond her imagination, she found that she couldn’t remember… there was only a blank.
Inside, something ripped. She could feel it. Something deep inside of her, something that might not even be a physical part of her, it ripped and she began to feel whatever was left of her existence unravelling, like a fancy sweater undone. Alas, the memory of sweaters and their purpose was something else that was being taken.
As reality itself began to implode all around her, she found that there were words that refused to be erased from her book—tiufel spawn. These words seared themselves into her brain and refused erasure.
The sensation of cessation became too much to bear, and consciousness ended…
The world was cold and strange light burned her eyes. It was cold, so very cold, and it made her body ache. It was an unfamiliar sensation, a strange thing. Strange white flakes swirled all around her, and a demon wind howled. Something about the moaning howl was both unsettling and comforting at the same time.
The white flakes were strange and new to her, as was everything else. As she lay there on the ground, the white flakes covering her body, there was a crackle overhead, followed by a flash of light. A moment later, a large, ominous looking book fell from the sky and conked her on the head. She let out a cry, frightened, but when she saw the book on the ground in front of her, she felt comforted, though she could not find a reason why.
Try as she might, she could not remember anything previous to lying on the ground while white flakes fell upon her. Without knowing how or why, she knew that the book was important. She also knew, again, without knowing how or why, that there would be two words inside of the book if she went looking.
Tiufel spawn.
Other than that, everything was blank. She had no recollection of any sort of existence previous to waking up in the cold with the strange white flakes that fell from up above. She didn’t even know what was above her, she had never seen anything like it before, or, at least, she didn’t think she had. Something about it was strange and unknown—looking upwards filled her with dread and she had the most disturbing sensation that if she kept looking up, she might fall into the vast, empty void that was overhead.
It was a strange void, filled with strange grey blobs and patches of the most dazzling shade of blue. She had parts of herself that were blue. She couldn’t remember how she knew the word ‘blue,’ but know it she did.
Crossing her eyes, she watched as the weird white flakes fell upon her snout. At least, she thought she had a snout. She could no longer tell. The flakes, whatever they were, were cold and as light as air. She snorted, sending a stream of smoke curling up from her nostrils. Bright orange embers lept from her snort holes and danced in the frigid air with the falling white flakes.
Something growled, and when it growled again, she realised that it was coming from inside of her. A strange new pain filled her, but it was a familiar pain. She didn’t know how she knew, or why it was familiar. The ache made her feel empty. A long forked tongue slipped out from between her lips and she caught some of the falling flakes, which turned to water on her rough tongue, but they did nothing to ease the urgent ache inside of her which demanded that something fill it, and soon.
She rose from the ground, stretching her legs, all six of them. They seemed to be working just fine. She checked over them, not quite remembering her own body, which was mystifying. Her two front legs seemed fine and she flexed the long talons and claws that she had. Her middle legs were mismatched, she had one hoof and one cloven hoof. She found herself staring at her hoof. Something lurked in the back of her mind, something intangible, something she could not recall. She stood on four legs, raising up her two front legs, and she rubbed the sides of her head with her talon-fingers.
The hoof was important, though she could not say why.
Ducking her head, she checked her hind legs. One large paw, and one scaly foot with four toes, with two toes facing forwards and two toes opposing them. She flexed her toes against the ground, checking for grip. The paw had large retractable claws, which she also flexed.
She flapped her wings, sending many white flakes flying. After a moment of consideration, she realised that she had wings but no knowledge of how to fly. At least, she could not remember ever flying. She tilted her head upwards and felt a powerful wave of nausea wash over her. She certainly didn’t want to fly in the vast, scary void overhead. There was nothing up there, no comforting stone, no dribbling magma raining down, it was just empty.
The insistent emptiness within her body made its presence known by growling again. She needed to… she needed to… she needed to eat something. The strange knowledge entered her head and remained like an unwelcomed guest. Yes, she had to eat things now. She wondered how she knew this.
Sniffing, she stood there, alert as more smoke curled up from her nostrils. She turned her head from side to side and her ears perked up. There were things around her, strange things. Unknown things. She clutched her book in her talons and held it close to her body. It was all she had. A blank book. She stood on four legs, using her front two legs as arms for now, and she took in her surroundings.
Off in the distance, there were strange green things jutting up out of the endless whiteness all around her. Further on, there were the jagged outlines of mountains. She knew what mountains were, but she could not recall learning such a thing. There were mountains in the dark places she could not remember.
Scanning the horizon, she saw smoke rising. Smoke meant fire. Something in the back of her mind nagged at her, but she had trouble putting everything together. Her instincts suggested that she head towards the smoke. Where there was smoke, there was fire.
And where there was fire, there was life.
There were things here, made things, but she did not know what they were, or what they were called. The knowledge eluded her. She stayed low to the ground, watchful, studying her prey. They smelled delicious and her mouth watered as she watched them. There was one in particular that seemed like it would be easy prey. A female, by the scent of her. She was away from the others, doing something near a large metal thing that had steam rising out of it.
The scent of metal was both unsettling and familiar. It smelled of danger, but she could not say why. The knowledge, had it ever existed, was gone from her. She did her best to ignore the strange metal thing and focused upon her prey.
A tiny horse creature, small and pink. She was chubby and rather slow. The tiny horse didn’t look like she would put up much of a fight, and with as chubby as she was, she couldn’t possibly be much of a runner. She would make for a delicious meal, at least that was the mind’s suggestion.
The bright pink tiny horse stood out in sharp contrast with the snow. She moved from place to place, going from the large steaming metal thing over to some other structure that could not be recognised. It wasn’t metal, it was rather boxy looking, and was angled on top. It was also covered in snow.
Much to her surprise, her long tail had a mind of its own, and it swished from side to side as she watched her prey. Her insides growled with terrific anticipation. Soon, there would be food. Delicious food. Meat. Yes, the tiny horse creature was made of meat.
And if it didn’t want to be eaten, then it shouldn’t have been a tiny horse creature.
She moved through the fluffy white stuff, keeping her body low to the ground. Her body was colourful and she knew that she stood out, so she would have to strike hard and fast. Legs pumping, she sprinted for her prey, galumphing along, her misshapen body moving with incredible speed. Her wings flapped against her sides in anticipation.
The tiny pink horse let out a shrill scream, which only excited something deep within the hunter. It was over now, the helpless chubby creature was far too slow, but she was determined to live. She bolted, her flesh jiggling, and it filled the hunter with a strange hunger. Jiggly flesh begged to be devoured.
Muscles bunching, legs flexing, her entire body coiled up like a spring, and she pounced, ready to take down her prey. Mid air, something collided with her, slamming into her with terrific force and an almost deafening whump!
It was the worst pain in her new life. Whatever had hit her was as solid as a mountain. She slammed into the ground and had the wind knocked out of her. Her attacker was on her in a second, kicking and stomping.
“I am the shepherd!” her attacker bellowed. “And these are my sheep!”
A solid blow came down upon her skull, just behind her mismatched horns, and she saw flashes of multi-coloured light dancing in her vision. She squirmed, clawing at the ground, but another blow came down upon her neck.
“You don’t touch my sheep!” The words were punctuated with another blow.
In the haze of pain, she marveled that she understood the words, and she wondered if she could speak. She didn’t have time to think about it though, as she was kicked again. She couldn’t get any air into her lungs and streams of blazing sparks flew from her mouth and nostrils with every blow.
She felt herself flipped over. She looked up at her attacker, he was a horse creature, but not like the others. He had jagged sharp teeth, slitted eyes, and massive leathery wings. She too, had a leathery wing, but only one. The other one had feathers.
But she didn’t have to think about that at the moment. She felt herself lifted, grabbed by her long neck, she could feel his sharp teeth slicing into the tender flesh and down into her bones. He flung her around with ease and her book tumbled free from the talon-fingers that she had been holding it in.
He was dragging her close to the metal. Every fibre of her being screamed and she knew that she was in danger… terrible danger. The stink of metal filled her with fear. It was a sharp, acrid tang that burned her nose and made her want to sneeze.
Iron.
The black metal thing was iron. Terrible iron. She heard a scream and realised it came from her own throat. The unknown metal object was sitting over a fire and steam curled up from the top of it. She clawed, kicked, and scratched, trying to get a grip on the ground, she even thrashed with her prehensile tail, but it was no use.
The terrible iron was now inches away from her face. She shrieked again, a wordless cry, and then, much to her horror, her face was pressed against the sizzling hot metal. It was not the heat that burned her, indeed, she couldn’t be harmed by fire, somehow, she knew this, but was burned by the iron itself.
Her face sizzled and crackled against the iron and her flesh began to melt like wax. The vision in one eye went away as her eyeball boiled out of her head. Her anguished, agonised screams became feeble gurgles as her cheek melted away from her jaw. She felt her powerful teeth shattering as they came in contact with the terrible, terrible iron.
And then, perhaps as an act of mercy, the darkness took her and she felt no more.
Opening her eyes, she was surprised, but also not surprised to find that she had vision on both sides of her head. Her face was whole again, her cheek had mended, and her teeth had regrown. Something lurked in the back of her mind, a memory of a memory that was no longer there. She had endured worse.
She saw her captor and ceased all movement, frozen in terror. He was large, capable, and brutish. He was also holding a long iron bar, which was pinched between his clawed thumb and the central knuckle on his wing. She let out a whimper and half closed her eyes, as if her eyelids would somehow protect them from the merciless iron.
“Do you understand me?” her captor asked.
Another whimper. Her mouth moved and she tried to make words, but nothing came out. She cringed, shying away as the big brutish horse creature took a step closer. She didn’t want to feel pain again. There had been too much pain already.
“I know what you are, or at least I have an idea.” Her captor’s eyes narrowed and he made a gesture with the terrible iron bar. “What I can’t figure out is why you are here. You are a mystery to me. I’ve dispatched a messenger to Princess Cadance and Prince Shining Armor. They will decide what to do with you.”
She stared at her captor with blank eyes.
“You are a peculiar creature. You show up in the middle of nowhere and try to eat one of my ponies. You have a strange book that stinks of magic that I’ve never encountered before.” He paused, took another step forward, and extended his other wing. He pointed and said, “And you have a cutie mark. I doubted it at first, but after sniffing it a few times, it turned out my assumption was right. How something like you has a cutie mark, I’ll never know. But, it is the reason you are still alive… the reason why I didn’t carve the still beating heart out of your chest and crush it between two iron plates.”
Keeping one eye on her captor, she craned her head around, trying to look at her hip. Sure enough, there was a book there. It looked just like the book she had with her when she had woken up in the cold white flakes. She felt relief when her captor took a step backwards and she kept one eye on the iron bar.
“I have your book. Not many words in it though. Tiufel spawn… I’m one of the few ponies that know what those are. I’ve battled your kind before and I know your infernal stink all too well. But I’ve never seen a tiufel with a cutie mark. Also, your book got some new words in it as I was looking at it. The words ‘The iron, it burns us,’ appeared in a flash of light as I was examining it.”
Overwhelmed and fearful, she let out another whimper. She was laying on something soft, but she didn’t know what it was. She was warm. A fire crackled nearby, living in a strange little room that appeared to be made just for the fire. Perhaps these strange creatures kept fire as pets. There was no strange blue void overhead, but something solid. Something she did not recognise.
One eyebrow raised on her captor’s face. “What are you, and why are you here?”
Her lips moved, but nothing came out. She felt immense relief when her captor lowered the iron bar. Hope blossomed in her breast like a tender bloom of spring. The side of her face was itchy but she did not dare move.
“Was this just a misunderstanding?” her captor asked. “You don’t seem so dangerous now, or threatening, but given what you are, this could be a ruse. Still…” His eyes narrowed and he took a deep breath. “I’ve never, ever seen one of your kind look fearful. I can smell the stench of fear coming off of you. You are terrified of me.”
She tilted her head to one side and studied her captor. He was big, far larger than the little pink horse she had seen, and his coat was a shade of blue-grey that was pleasing to the eye. His mane was a dusky purple blue. His eyes were slitted and were a purple-pink colour.
“My name is Malcanus.” Her captor’s voice was deep and resonant. “If I put this down, will you behave?” His eyes darted over to the iron rod he held. “You are my prisoner. I have subdued you. As my prisoner, you are entitled to certain rights. I am obligated to feed you and see to your well being, but only if you cooperate.”
With nothing that she could say, she blinked and was relieved when he put the terrible iron bar down. It settled into place with a thump, beside something that steamed. It was sitting on something, but she didn’t know what it was. There were a lot of things all around her that she didn’t know.
“I swear, this must be some kind of new infernal trickery… you look as lost and bewildered as a newborn foal.” Malcanus’s face crinkled with worry. “There is a bowl of fish stew on the table here and some dried out bits of rabbit jerky. It’s the middle of winter, so food is hard to come by for those like us.”
Sniffing, she inhaled and turned her attention on the steaming object he had called a bowl. She glanced at her captor, the one called ‘Malcanus,’ and then back at the bowl. The bowl that was sitting next to the terrible iron bar.
As she watched, her captor picked up the bowl, it had a protrusion sticking off of the side that allowed him to grasp it between his thumb and knuckle. She heard the slosh of liquid and her ears perked. Her stomach let out a desperate gurgle.
“I think this was a misunderstanding. You were just hungry, weren’t you?” Malcanus’ eyes narrowed. “Hungry or not, that doesn’t excuse you. You don’t mess with my little ponies. I’ve been out here for years now and I’ve never lost a single one.”
The bowl was set down on the floor in front of her. She brushed away the soft stringy bits all around her, lowered her head, and sniffed. She looked up at Malcanus, wondering if he might give her another thrashing while she had her guard down. The iron hurt like nothing else and she lived in fear of it.
“You made poor Freckle Speckle just about piss herself. You owe her an apology.”
Eyes wide, she looked up at her captor, bewildered and confused.
“Freckle Speckle. The little pink mare that you tried to gobble. She was out there making soap. You oughta be ashamed of yourself.” Malcanus shook his head. “That right there”—he pointed at the book on her backside with his wing—“that makes you one of us.” He pulled his wing away and his ears splayed out sideways.
She mimicked him, also making her ears splay out sideways. She heard him snort, so she snorted back, and sent a stream of glowing embers flying out of her snort holes. She saw him raise his eyebrow, so she did the same. When he bared his teeth in a smile, she did so as well.
“Hmm.” Malcanus shuffled on his hooves. “You don’t seem so bad. But I have my eye on you… you messed with my flock and I don’t abide by that.”
Lowering her head, she sniffed the steaming bowl and she liked what she smelled. She stuck out her tongue, cautious, and touched the forked tip to the liquid in the bowl. It was salty, it was smokey, it was delicious. Her eyes darted upwards, towards her captor and the iron bar. As she kept an eye on them, she began lapping up the contents of the bowl.
Next to the iron bar, the book took on a glow. She kept eating, but watched as Malcanus picked up her book. There was a soft rustle of paper as he flipped it open, and she heard him draw in a deep breath. The glow vanished as he held it and she saw a puzzled expression upon his face.
“For the first time, I ate,” Malcanus read aloud. His eyes darted from side to side as he read and re-read the words on the page. “This is your first time eating?” His expressive face contorted into a whole new expression, one of surprise and shock. “What are you?” He set down the book and let out a snort of frustration.
Of course, she could not answer, as she did not know. She couldn’t even tell him that her first memories were waking up in the cold and that there was nothing before that. She continued lapping up the delicious food as the fire crackled in its little special den.
“Great. You’re still afraid of me and I feel guilty. I feel like I’ve just burned some poor infernal foal’s face against iron… you are an infernal creature, but you act like a scared little filly. If this is a ruse, it is the greatest I have ever seen.” Malcanus shook his head and with a grunt, he sat down upon the floor, which creaked beneath his bulk.
She grabbed the bowl in her talon-fingers, tipped it against her lips, and began to drink it. There were chunks of flesh in there, along with other things that she did not recognise. The broth was greasy and coated her lips. She cringed when her captor’s wing reached out and picked up something from off of the table.
A piece of dried meat was held out to her. She stretched out her neck, sniffed, licked her greasy lips, and sniffed again. The dried meat smelled salty—and it smelled like Malcanus. She found that she liked both of the tantalising scents. With a quick nip, she snatched the chunk of dried meat from Malcanus. She chewed a few times, her sharp teeth making short work of the leathery jerky, and then swallowed with a loud gulp.
“I’d like to know how you made it out of Tartarus,” Malcanus said as he offered his captive another chunk of dried rabbit jerky. “Things don’t escape out of there very often.” The big stallion blinked a few times, looking thoughtful, then added, “I mean, it happens. Sometimes, something big gets out, and sometimes, it’s something little. I’ve fought a whole lot of the little things. Even a few of the big things. Had to stop fighting though.”
Chewing, she looked at her captor, curious.
“The Night Lady”—Malcanus paused for a moment and considered his words—“Most ponies know her as Princess Luna… she said I’d been fighting for too long. Said it was starting to mess with my mind. That I’ve tasted far too much demon blood. That if I kept fighting the things that spill out of Tartarus, I’d become like them.” He let out a wistful sigh. “I think she was right. I started jumping at shadows, and for a nocturnal pony such as myself, that’s bad.”
The bowl was now almost empty. She licked the greasy sides, trying to get every last bit. Malcanus voice was soothing and made her calm, but the iron bar continued to concern her. He seemed nice enough, even though he had just burned off the side of her face a while ago. There was no use holding that against him though, he had food. Delicious soup stuff and dried meat bits. She relaxed a bit, no longer so fearful, lulled by the sound of his voice.
“I couldn’t live in the noisy city… it messed with me in a bad way. I was sent here… to this alicorn forsaken homesteading outpost.” Malcanus’ eyes narrowed. “I like it well enough. I never thought that some demon would come along and try to snack on my ponies. Mostly, I deal with yetis, the occasional frost wolf, and sometimes an ice drake gets brave.”
A ferocious belch resonated from her maw and the iron bar rattled on the table. Malcanus’ ears pinned back against his skull and needless to say, he looked impressed. She watched him, her head tilted off to one side, trying to figure him out. She hoped that he would keep talking. She was warm, full, and feeling a bit drowsy.
Her mind was filled with questions, questions with no answers, like why did she have an image of her book on her hind hips? What had brought her here to this place? Who was she? Did she have a name? She had to have a name. Malcanus had a name. Freckle Speckle had a name. Things had names, it is what both defined and distinguished them from other things.
“I cannot help but wonder if you are part pony… I keep looking at your hoof and your cutie mark.” Malcanus’ eyes narrowed and his brow creased in concentration. “There is something about you. You are infernal, no doubting that, but you have no malice about you, no spite. No need to lash out and attack everything around you. You are strange to me. I wonder what Princess Cadance and Prince Shining Armor will say about you?”
In response, she belched again, then yawned.
“I have shown you kindness and generousity… I hope you do not betray my trust. I would like to think that you are better than your first impression let on.” Malcanus stood up and stretched. “Sleep, if you so desire. I shall watch over you. I have to write a report… do you see what you’ve done? You’ve caused me to have to deal with paperwork, something I detest. I shall expect an apology as soon as we can figure out how to get you talking.”
At the mention of the word sleep, she felt her eyelids drooping. Sleep sounded good. Her belly was full, whatever it was that she was laying on was soft, and the fire was warm. She eyed the iron bar one last time, decided that she was no longer concerned by its presence, and then lowered her head down to her forelegs. She yawned, revealing a mouthful of nightmarish teeth and a bright green forked tongue. Sleep was something new to her, she somehow knew what it was without ever having experienced it. She closed her eyes and waited, not knowing how one went to sleep, not exactly.
As she lay there, waiting for sleep to come, Malcanus busied himself with cleaning up, picking up the bowl and then tidying up the room a bit. He added another log to the fire, and as he did so, the book on the table behind him glowed.
Inside, two more entries appeared.
The first read: I made my first friend.
And the second: I face the abyss of sleep for the first time. What dreams might come?
He was watching. Something about his gaze both excited her and terrified her. She sat in the corner, sitting in a pile of something called ‘straw.’ It was comfortable enough to sleep on, pleasant even, sweet smelling, though it appeared to be something that food ate. Well, not-food. Malcanus had spent some time explaining why she couldn’t eat his ponies in a patient voice.
They were thinking, feeling creatures, just like she was, and eating them was wrong. She was inclined to agree, after everything that had been said, but she was unable to state her own opinions. Even with great effort to try and mimic Malcanus’ speech, she was unable to form words.
After trying to eat Freckle Speckle, she felt bad; guilty even. She had caused another creature the sort of fear that she had of the terrible iron rod. The knowledge that she had done so made her feel awful, and it had caused yet another entry to appear in her book.
I have learned empathy.
This, along with the other entries, mystified her. Her book was a precious thing, she had an overwhelming compulsion to keep it close, and Malcanus had allowed her to keep it near her. It was her only possession, something she valued, something she treasured. She was growing rather fond of the bowl with the little handle sticking off the side as well. She wanted it, preferably with food in it. Hunger was an almost constant thing, a terrible beast that lurked within her insides. She could satisfy it only for a while before it began to growl and thrash about. She was happy with her book and the bowl.
Malcanus’ eyes flashed in the firelight. He was waiting, waiting for her to continue the game. At least, she thought it was a game. She would point at something and he would say what it was. It was amusing, and helped to pass the time. Once she knew a word, it stuck in her memory, even if she couldn’t say it. The building around her was made of wood, and wood burned in the fire. So did straw. She had to be careful with the sparks flying out of her snort holes, because those sparks could set the straw on fire.
There was a table, and a chair, and the fire lived in a strange little house called a fireplace. Above her was a roof and rafters. She longed to hang from the rafters with her prehensile tail or what Malcanus called her ‘chameleon foot.’ He had named her feet. Eagle, eagle, pony, goat, lion, and chameleon. He called her a chimera demon, something from the lower planes, the deepest, darkest, most horrible of places in Tartarus.
Alas, she was too afraid to hang from the rafters, as she did not want to move from her spot and alarm Malcanus. He had told her to be good, and she was determined to do so. In exchange for being good, he had left the terrible iron bar outside, beyond the door.
Curious about the world around her and her own body, she pointed at her long tail.
“Possum tail. The Night Lady has a pet possum called ‘Tiberius’ that she adores.”
She flexed her possum tail and coiled it around her lion hind leg. She was running out of things to point to, and when those were gone, she would have no way to amuse herself. She held up her talons. She had three fingers and a thumb. She waggled them at Malcanus, already knowing what they were.
“Three talon-fingers and one talon-thumb,” Malcanus said, raising his eyebrow.
Grinning, she hid her talons behind her feathery wing. After a moment, when she revealed them again, there was something different. Something off. Her almost manic grin grew wider when she saw the shock and surprise in Malcanus’ eyes.
“Hey, stop being an infernal trickster! You put your talons back to the way they were, young lady! That’s seven talon-fingers too many! Around here, we try to follow the natural order!”
Young lady. He called her that when he wanted her attention and he was stern when he said it, but not angry. She waggled all ten of her talon-fingers, curled them into a fist, and hid them behind her wing. When she pulled them back out, she heard a loud, indignant snort from Malcanus, which pleased her a great deal.
“Too many talon-fingers. Stop that or I won’t give you a treat.”
The extra talon-fingers all vanished with a poof and her lower lip protruded in a pout. Threatening to take away her food was almost as bad as the iron bar. Hunger was an awful sensation—a painful one—and she didn’t care for it all.
The fun had to continue, boredom was almost as bad as hunger. Not knowing what else to do, she pointed at Malcanus. She saw his eyebrows rise and his ears perked forwards. She saw his snort holes expand, grow larger, and she heard him inhale. She enjoyed experiencing all of these things, something about Malcanus fascinated her.
“What am I?”
She nodded.
“I’m a pony.”
She shook her head. He wasn’t like the others. He inhaled again, and she waited, eager, anxious, and hoping that he would talk. His voice was soothing, comforting, and distracted her from both her hunger and her boredom.
“I’m part dragon,” Malcanus said in a low voice. “A draconic hybrid. Sometimes, I get called a bat pony, but I’m barely a mammal, much less a bat. I hatched from an egg.” He paused, cleared his throat, and then continued, “Princess Celestia drew me from my egg. She seemed to think that I was shy and didn’t want to come out. The Night Lady had not yet returned when I was hatched.”
His eyes grew distant and she found herself both intrigued and curious. Much to her relief, he kept speaking.
“It is a constant battle, being what I am. I understand your hunger. Had I been raised differently, I might see the little ones as food as well. But I was raised and trained to curb my instincts. To hold back my hunger. To deny my appetites.” Malcanus closed his eyes and his voice lowered into a soft whisper. “I am the shepherd, and these are my sheep. I might be a wolf among them, but I can choose to protect them. I can choose to be better.”
His eyes opened and she saw him staring at her. A new hunger flared within her, one she did not recognise. This hunger scared her. She had no idea how to satiate it, as it was not for food. It was for something else, something she could not recognise or comprehend.
And she felt it as she gazed into Malcanus’ eyes.
“I am one of the few that have been down into the stygian depths.” Malcanus voice was low and gritty. “I have been to Tartarus. I have seen the black seas of bile, the rivers of blood, I have looked upon the oubliette of souls. We use it as a prison, you know. The very worst sorts are taken there in body, bound, and sealed away. Like Lord Tirek. We take those who threaten our very existence and we cast them down into the stygian depths.”
His words made her ears stand up.
“The gate to Elysium is down there as well. I’ve looked upon it. It is a thing of exquisite beauty. I work hard to maintain the sanctity of my soul as one day, I hope to pass through it. It is why I choose be a shepherd.” There was a bellowing sigh from Malcanus. “If I deny my hungers, I shall pass through the gate. I will be welcomed. My immortal equine soul shall know peace and hunger no more. I’ll no longer be at war with my inner nature.”
She didn’t understand everything that he had said, but it sounded important. So there was a reward for not eating the little ponies. She understood rewards. If she behaved, Malcanus gave her dried meat treats. So this was why he didn’t eat the little ones. He had a reward waiting.
A new pain wracked her insides, and it was terrible. She felt something gnawing at her from within. Her guts gurgled and a new sort of ache lodged itself between her hind hips. She clutched her stomach, then with a whimper, she tucked her tail between her legs and held it against her belly, fearful that her insides would start leaking out.
“I was wondering when that was going to happen.” Malcanus let out a chuckle. “A near immortal she-demon you might be, but you’ve still got to pinch a loaf.”
She did not understand those words, “Pinch a loaf.” She looked up at Malcanus in panic, hoping that he would help her. She let out a pleading whimper and squeezed her hind legs together. Her insides were going to come squirting out at any moment.
“I suppose I am going to have to trust you. I’m going to take you outside. And you, you are gonna behave. Because you’re a good creature. You aren’t going to eat any of my sheep, are you?”
She shook her head no and clutched at her tail, certain that her guts were going to come squirting out at any moment. She didn’t understand what was going on and her whole body trembled with terror. She was coming undone. All six of her legs folded against her stomach and she let out a gibbering cry.
There was something new on Malcanus’ face, something she didn’t recognise. She thought it was sadness at first, but she was mistaken. Something about his eyes brought her a little much needed comfort as her guts continued to twist and tangle as they threatened to escape.
“All of this really was a misunderstanding, wasn’t it?” he asked in a soft voice. “You have no idea what living is.” His hooves thudded across the floor as he came over to her, and he held out one foreleg to her. “Come on, let’s get you outside. Let me help you.”
Her insides had come squirting out. Well, some of them at least. She hadn’t quite made it to wherever it was that Malcanus had wanted to go when the foul smelling liquid began leaking from her backside. She had made quite a mess of herself and she had soiled what Malcanus called snow.
Now she sat, shivering and miserable, her insides still twisting and writhing around inside of her, and she couldn’t tell if they would come shooting out of her tailhole once again. She was cramping and quite miserable. Great quantities of air trapped within her body also escaped through her tailhole, and some of the whooshes were wet and squishy.
Overhead, the blue was gone, replaced with blackness. In the blackness, little lights twinkled. Looking up was a dreadful idea in her current condition, and she kept her eyes focused upon the ground. Her talons clawed at the snow as her stomach churned.
“Malcanus?”
“Freckle Speckle, stay back!”
“I heard crying.” The sound of hooves in the snow could be heard. “Sounds so much like a foal… it’s haunting.”
“I said stay back!”
“The poor dear… she’s miserable… she’s sick… she’s crying.”
“It will pass—”
“Don’t tell me it’ll pass, ya big brute!”
“She tried to eat you, Freckle Speckle—”
“Aye, she did, but now she’s miserable and got the runs. And you are just letting her lay in the snow and squirt out?”
“What else can I do?” Malcanus asked.
She felt a soft touch and lifted her head. The pony she had tried to eat was standing next to her. Her pink coat was dusted with snow, even though no snow was falling at the moment. She was stocky, chubby, and shaggy.
“You poor dear… Malcanus is a soldier… he’s not big on comfort. He’s a big savage, smelly brute that doesn’t like soap—”
“Mare, your soaps make me sneeze.”
“Anything that smells pleasant and nice makes you sneeze!”
Something warm, fuzzy, and a bit wet wrapped around her head. Freckle Speckle was now sitting in the snow beside her and cradling her head. She closed her eyes. The pony was soft and there was something pleasant about this. She felt a deep and cutting sense of regret for trying to eat her. More whimpers escaped her lips and it felt as though something was reaching up inside of her to tug her insides out.
“She’s sick… Malcanus, what do we do? Can she die?”
“I don’t think she can die from this, but she can be miserable.”
“What’s causing this?”
“She’s never lived before. Her body has never digested food. All of this is new to her.”
“And you were just going to stand there and let her suffer through the runny shits?”
“What else could I do?” Malcanus demanded.
“You could hold her, like I’m doing—”
“Look, I told you to stay away, Freckle—”
“OH SHUT UP!” Freckle Speckle snapped as she rocked the strange creature she was trying to comfort. “You are an insufferable ass!”
There was an indignant snort, but no other reply from Malcanus. She rubbed her cheek against the soft, velvety fuzz of the pony holding her head and waited for the terrible cramp wracking her lower half to pass. The extra chubbiness on the mare made her pillowy, and she was very, very warm in the cold, frigid air. She felt a somewhat damp but otherwise pleasant foreleg rubbing her neck. The soft touch made things better. It made things bearable.
“I might not understand you, but the world is a better place for having you in it.”
Freckle Speckle let out a grunt but said nothing in return.
The sounds of more hooves could be heard crunching in the snow. Beautiful silvery light illuminated the snow and made it glitter and gleam like diamonds. Another pony approached, this one strange and mysterious. She almost looked transparent. She had a horn, just one horn, not two, not three or more, just one.
“What is going on here?” A pause. “Our prisoner appears to be sick.”
“Aye, Glitter Glammer, she’s sick and Malcanus was being a brute again—”
“I was not!”
“Quiet, both of you,” the new mare demanded. “Freckle Speckle, don’t start. He saved you from being a meal.”
“Hah!”
“And you, Malcanus… a little soap wouldn’t kill you,” Glitter Glammer said.
“Hey!”
She felt her head surrounded by a warm, gentle tingle. It was then lifted and she found herself looking into the eyes of the new mare. Soft, gentle eyes. Eyes that were kind. She could feel the new mare breathing on her. Wincing, she felt a cramp threatening to tear her insides apart. The warm tingle enveloped her whole body and the painful cramping eased. Without knowing how she knew, she knew that the mare was doing this somehow, lessening her pain.
“She’s as weak as a newborn kitten,” Glitter Glammer said, “while I’ll admit that she could be a threat to us, she doesn’t seem like she poses much of a danger at the moment.” The mare lifted her head and looked up at Malcanus. “When this passes, I want her brought to the bathhouse. Freckle Speckle and I will clean her up.”
“But—”
“But nothing,” Glitter Glammer replied. “I understand that you worry for our safety. You will stand guard and keep us safe, Shepherd Malcanus, though I doubt she has the strength to try anything.” There was a pause, then she continued, “I should make you bathe her… and use soap. Perhaps some of it might rub off on you and improve your malodorous, musty funk.”
There was a low, wordless grumble from Malcanus.
“And you there, tiufel spawn… if you repay my kindness with agression, know this… I’ll magic your heart right out of your chest and crush it in my waffle iron. I believe in treating everypony fairly. This homesteader’s village is filled with former convicts, felons, and other questionable sorts. I give everypony exactly one chance. Just one. I’ll offer you the same. You can live here as our guest, rather than our prisoner, but I’d better see you cooperate with everything you’re told to do, or else I’ll unravel your existence faster than you can blink.”
She clung to Freckle Speckle, fearful of the mere mention of the word iron.
“Do you understand me?”
She nodded.
“Good. Let’s see if we can get you cleaned up. This has to be miserable for you.”
Soap, as it turned out, was delicious and the bath was delightful. Being dunked into a stone basin full of hot water was like being turned into soup. She kept trying to sample her own broth, but the two mares rebuked her and kept pulling her head up out of the water.
“If you eat soap, it will give you more of the runny shits,” Glitter Glammer said in a voice that sounded as though it was almost out of patience. “Stop drinking your own bathwater, that’s gross! Be a good… whatever you are!”
Soaking in the hot water after voiding her bowels made her feel better. She was fine now, perky even, and hungry. So very hungry. With a quick dart of her head, she scored herself a delicious snack. A slippery bar of soap.
“Spit that out!” Glitter Glammer demanded. “Don’t you dare swallow that! Don’t be a bad she-demon!”
Holding the bar of soap in her mouth, she ran her tongue over it, savouring both its flavour and its slipperiness. It was both soft and hard, it had a weird, but pleasing texture, it smelled good, and it tasted divine.
“Spit it out!” Glitter Glammer said again. “Out with it! I’ll give you candy… that’s better than soap!”
With a quick gulp, she could swallow the delicious soap, but she sensed that the others might be upset if she did. She couldn’t understand what was going on exactly. She wasn’t eating them, she was eating soap—and it was delicious. It seemed that soap was like ponies—not food.
Heartbroken, she spat out the soap and then belched out a long stream of bubbles. The soap landed in her bath broth with a plop. She splashed her tail around, stirring, thinking that she would make for a wonderful soapy soup. She ducked her head down to take another drink of her bathwater and was grabbed by magic.
“You know, when I attended the guard academy, they taught me a lot of things,” Malcanus said in a low voice filled with gravel, “but they never taught me nothing ‘bout giving escaped demons a bath.”
“You could be helping, Malcanus. She’s difficult to grab with magic.” Glitter Glammer glanced over at the enormous draconic pegasus standing next to the wall.
“Nope.” Malcanus blinked and shook his head.
“Stop trying to eat the soap!” Glitter Glammer’s ears stood up as the bar of soap plopped into the bathwater again. “Hold still! We need to scrub your backside… no… give me back that scrub brush!”
She looked at the brush she held in her tail, then over at the bossy one horned pony telling her what to do. She flicked out her long, green forked tongue and licked some of the suds from the brush and then gave it back.
“I can’t do this anymore,” Freckle Speckle said as she began to sniffle. “It’s too much… I’m sorry… I can’t… I can’t…”
The soaked chubby mare moved away from the tub, retreated to a corner, and then began to sob. There was a loud splash as a long, prehensile tail fell into the water. Bathtime was no longer fun. Not at all. Dejected, hurt, and not understanding what was going on, she slumped in the tub and went limp.
“Damnit, this is my fault, I’m sorry, Freckle, I should have…” Glitter’s words trailed off and she let out a frustrated hiss. “Oh, dog farts.”
Ears drooping, she looked over at the mare sobbing in the corner, then turned to look at Glitter. Unable to talk, but still able to communicate, she lifted on talon-finger and poked herself in the neck, then pointed to Freckle Speckle.
“No.” Glitter shook her head. “This isn’t your fault.” The mare blinked and then wiped her own sopping wet mane out of her face with her foreleg. She spat a few times to get soapy water off of her lips, and then sat down upon the drenched floor. Her backside made a wet squelch as she sat in a pile of suds.
“Bad ponies live here. This is the last stop before perdition… the waystation of lost souls. This is the place where a pony comes to get straightened out before they end up where you come from.” Glitter gave herself a shake to free some water from her strange, almost translucent pelt, which shone like a gem in the faint lantern light.
Ears perking, the she-demon focused her attention upon the pony crying in the corner.
“We’re all here because we belong here,” Malcanus said. “And the shepherd is just as bad as the sheep.”
“Freckle Speckle had a bit of a drinking problem,” Glitter said in a low voice as she picked up a scrub brush with her magic. She began scrubbing in an absent minded sort of way. “One night, she was giving her foals a bath. She had two little ones, a colt and a filly. She got tired of them fighting and kicking and screaming… ‘cause that’s how foals are. So, she leaves them alone in the tub to go and have herself a drink.”
At these words, Freckle’s sobs intensified and her wailing cries wracked her body.
“She comes back after a few drinks and discovers that her colt has drowned his little sister. She freaks out, which is understandable, but she doesn’t do anything to summon the police. She goes and she has herself a drink, to help her calm down.” The scrubbing brush moved of its own accord as Glitter continued her story.
“Her husband comes home and finds out what has happened. He’s upset, and rightfully so. A whole lot of trouble happens, and at the end of it, poor Freckle, she doesn’t have her husband or her little colt any more. Her husband goes home to live with his mother. She’s not even allowed to attend her daughter’s funeral.”
The she-demon, frozen in place, somehow understood the words all too well.
“And Freckle, with nothing left, she starts drinking. And to pay for her drinks, she does things that desperate ponies do. She ends up in a lot of trouble, the worst sort of trouble, and at the end of it all, she gets a visit from a Warden. She goes to prison, her brain is too messed up from drinking to be repentant, and it’s there that she gets a chance to dry out.”
Glitter blinked away a tear welling in the corner of her eye. “Ten years later, she’s freed. She’s done her time… and the first thing she does once she’s a free pony? Why, she goes and she gets herself a drink. And the trouble starts again.”
Something was wrong. Some dreadful new pain could be felt, a terrible, sickening ache in her chest. She flexed her claws, not knowing what it was, or how to deal with it, and the pain was so bad that she was at a loss for what to do. Much to her surprise, the bathwater she had been swallowing began to leak out of her eyes, much like Glitter’s eyes, which were also leaking.
“She gets another visit from a Warden, and he does the whole Penance Interrogation thing they do. Again. This time, she feels bad for what she’s done, and she wants help. She gets a little help, and she ends up here, with the rest of us.”
Claws scrabbling on the stone basin, the she-demon pulled herself up out of the tub. Water and bubbles ran down from her body in rivulets and she gave herself a shake. She almost slipped on the stone floor and had to fight to get a grip. Her claws left scratches in the stone.
She took a hesitant step towards Freckle, wondering if it was okay, if she would be punished, the threat of iron was a terrible one, and then took another fearful step. She looked at Glitter, then at Malcanus, then turned her head back towards Glitter.
“She doesn’t like to be touched when she’s like this… I wouldn’t. You don’t want to be kicked by an earth pony, trust me… and she’s a kicker.” One of Glitter’s eyebrows rose in a delicate arch as she spoke. “It’s better to let her just cry it out, she’ll be fine.”
For the second time, she stalked Freckle Speckle, but this time, she had no intention of eating her. She walked with her body and her head slung low to the ground, her knees bent, and her long tail trailed on the floor behind her like a serpent. Soapy water trickled down into puddles below her, which pooled together as they flowed towards the drain in a distant corner.
In the faint lantern light, an iridescent sheen left rainbow ripples on her feathers, she would need a good rinse still. The sound of water dripping filled her ears—and the sound of weeping. The memory of a memory lurked in the abyssal depths of her mind. She had wept. She had sobbed and wept and begged… but for what? She could scarcely even remember, it was more like a dream. The ache in her chest grew worse, it was unbearable now and made it difficult to breath.
Now close, she reached out her left foreleg and placed her talons upon Freckle, mindful of her claws. The wailing mare let out a screeching squeal and then smacked the talons away. The she-demon, struck, reacted the only way she could.
She collapsed on the floor and lay in a miserable heap. The pain in her chest was so bad now that it was causing her whole upper body to hitch with uncontrollable jerks. It was painful, but it wasn’t just a physical pain. She too, began bawling. She let out a whining wail, overcome by pain and grief, and it was then that she discovered what it was like to weep in this body… this body felt pain in a new and terrible way. A different way. She was almost certain that she was feeling Freckle Speckle’s pain, and it was unbearable. All six of her legs curled up against her belly and her long serpentine body curled up into a tight ball.
And Freckle Speckle reacted.
She found herself snatched and held in a powerful, almost painful grip. Freckle was wet and a bit snotty. Freckle’s forelegs were powerful, they had a frightening amount of strength, and the she-demon found comfort in them. Together, they wept as Malcanus stood guard and Glitter Glammer watched.
Something hot and steamy was offered to her in something that was like a bowl, but smaller. It had a little loop that she could stick a talon-finger through and hold it. It smelled good when she sniffed it, her brain told her it was a little spicy and a whole lot sweet. The only thing better than soap, was sweet.
Now clean and well rinsed, she sat next to a low wooden table beside Freckle Speckle, inside of a different cabin. This one was decorated with all sorts of knick knacks, pictures, and stones carved into things like ponies, birds, and other food-type animals.
Except ponies weren’t food. She had to remember that ponies were not food.
“It’s hot cocoa… drink it,” Glitter said and then she took a sip of her own cocoa.
She tried a sip. The drink was pleasant, sweet and bitter, with a faint hint of something that burned her tongue in a good way. Glitter was glowing, not just her horn, but her whole body. It was almost painful to look at it, it dazzled the eyes and filled the room with radiant light.
“Ugh, the light, it burns my eyes,” Malcanus said, complaining as he squinted.
“I glow in the presence of love, deal with it.” Glitter Glammer shot the squinting stallion a sneer and then took another sip. She smacked her lips, then sighed. “It feels good to glow again… I mean, there’s some love and camaraderie here among us rejects, but right now, I feel like I’m back home, in the Crystal Empire, where each one of us glowed like the sun. The city would be as bright as day at midnight.”
“What a wretched place,” Malcanus muttered.
“What do we do with her?” Glitter asked. “Malcanus… you and I have a duty to these ponies.” She gazed at Malcanus and watched as his expression turned stern and serious. “I don’t think it was mere coincidence that she just so happened to show up here, it could be my mystical unicorn powers having a say, but I think she belongs with us. What do you say, former Warden?”
“Don’t call me that!” Malcanus snapped. “Must you be so antagonistic?”
Glitter’s ears drooped and she gave a nod of acknowledgment as the she-demon slurped hot cocoa from her cup. She returned her attention to Malcanus and her expression softened. “My apologies. I’m used to our good natured ribbing of one another—”
“That is nothing to joke about,” Malcanus bellowed with enough force in his voice to cause everything in the cabin to rattle. “I had my magic taken from me… the very essence of what I was… it was stripped away, burned away… you have no idea how much pain that caused me… the fall from grace was a long one and the sudden stop at the end almost broke me.”
“I’m sure it was.” Glitter’s voice was soft. “I’m sure it did.”
“I have spent my life trying to make up for one stupid mistake made in my hotblooded youth… something done in anger. I have spent every moment of my existence trying to earn back her favour… her trust… I have tried—”
“You have been wonderful, Shepherd Malcanus, and you keep all of us safe. Since you took your post here, we’ve not lost a single one.” Freckle Speckle looked up from her cocoa. “I am sure that Princess Luna knows of your good work and service here.”
“To be back in the Sisters good graces once more,” Malcanus said in a wistful voice.
“Back to what I was saying.” Glitter cleared her throat. “Our guest needs a name. I am certain that Princess Cadance and Prince Shining Armor will come, but in the meanwhile, our guest needs to be comfortable and well cared for. The others are scared of her, and rightfully so. So we need to keep everypony involved happy. I don’t feel right keeping her locked up in the time-out cabin. The others see it as a place of confinement and punishment, and I don’t want them thinking she needs to be confined.”
“She can stay in my cabin.” Malcanus let out a grunt when Glitter opened her mouth to protest, and he continued, “I don’t sleep in my bed. I sleep standing up. I am always on duty. By allowing her to stay with me, the skittish ones will have some time to adjust to her presence.”
“I find myself in agreement with Malcanus,” Freckle said in a somewhat sheepish voice. “I’ll try to help. I’ll try to teach her stuff, like how to live and not to eat my soap. She’s not so different from a mustang foal, really.”
Malcanus snorted.
The she-demon mimicked him and a stream of rainbow hued bubbles shot out of her snort holes.
Now smiling, Glitter Glammer nodded. “It’s not much of a plan, but it’s a start. We’ll play it by ear and see how this goes.” She raised her cocoa and gave her companions a toothy grin. “Here’s to earning redemption…”
She awoke to the sound of the howling wind. Startled, and a little scared, she stuck her head out from beneath the somewhat rough and scratchy blanket. The cabin was dim and firelight caused the shadows on the walls to do a crazy, delirious dance. Malcanus was standing in the corner, looking at her book.
“We have a blizzard coming in,” Malcanus said in a low voice. “We’ll be fine. Nothing to worry about.” He closed the book and then continued, “Lots of new entries. You’ve made friends. Felt empathy. You comforted another that was weaker than you. That entry was a little strange, I’ll admit. You have the trust of another.”
Blinking, it took several seconds before her eyes adjusted to the dim, flickering light. There was a gurgle in her guts, and she knew right away that it wasn’t just hunger she felt. She let out a whimper and saw Malcanus’ ears perk up.
“I hear it. It’s gonna be a rough walk to the outhouses and it’s gonna be cold. Hang on to my tail and I’ll lead you along so you won’t get lost in the snow. You won’t be able to see a foot beyond your nose.”
Still sleepy, it took her a moment to process his words. Outhouses. Yes she remembered what those were. Freckle Speckle called them shit shacks. And no matter how interesting it might be, one did not slither through the hole and down into the darkened depths below. Malcanus had made that quite clear.
The howling wind made the whole cabin creak and she remained beneath the blanket, her body curled up and warm. The bed she lay in was a thick mattress stuffed with straw, the stuff that food ate. She wondered if she could take the heavy blanket with her. Malcanus didn’t need a blanket, or so he claimed, because he stood next to the fire while he slept. She had seen him sleeping, he slept with his head tucked back beneath one membranous wing while standing on two legs; one front leg and one hind leg. The other two legs would be tucked against his body.
Uncoiling, she slid the bulk of her body out of the bed and set her lion’s paw upon the floor. The floor was cold. She felt the sensation with a keen intensity that made every muscle in her body tense. Her body was still getting used to sensations and her mind reeled, overwhelmed by sensory input. After a second, her brain having processed the feeling of placing a foot that had just been in a warm bed down upon a freezing cold floor, she responded the only way she knew how.
She let out a keening wail and jerked her whole body back beneath the blanket. She put her paw against her belly, but that was a mistake. Her paw, even though it had only touched the wooden floor for but a moment, was like ice. She let out another warbling cry and she heard Malcanus laughing.
He was laughing at her. She gave him a sulky look as she peered out from beneath the blanket. His whole body shook with laughter and his wings flapped against his sides. It wasn’t funny. She snorted, sending curls of smoke out of her snort holes, and decided that having to void the body’s waste was the worst part of living. She didn’t like it, not one bit. The body suffered all sorts of discomforts and humiliations, but this was the worst.
“Come on, let’s take care of this before you have an accident,” Malcanus said in a patient voice as he continued to chuckle.
It was difficult to see in the swirling snow. She snapped at the falling flakes, trying to eat them, and her mismatched feet crunched through the glaze of ice that had formed over the old snow. There were ropes to help aid ponies along from one place to another, and she could see blazing lights moving about which somehow she knew to be magic.
The shit shacks would be cold and she did not look forwards to sitting on the wooden plank with the hole cut in the middle. She wondered if she could squat over the top of it somehow. If she did that, she worried that she might miss, and then Malcanus might scold her.
Scolding was bad and she wanted to avoid it.
Malcanus opened the door for her and she hurried inside, eager to get this over with. She didn’t like gurgly insides, not at all, and last night, after drinking all of the soap, she had suffered dire consequences. Freckle Speckle had come inside of the outhouse with her and sat with her while her insides all squirted out.
Hunger gnawed at her insides and she hoped that there would be food after this.
Just as she stepped out of the door, a bell began ringing. She heard Malcanus snarl and watched as his wings unfurled. The ringing bell filled her ears and made her feel a bit panicky. She heard cries all around her, and the bright lights of unicorn magic grew ever brighter.
It was hard to tell, but it seemed as though the blizzard was retreating. There was a lot less snow in the air and it was easier to see. It was easier to hear too. She heard howling, but it wasn’t the wind. It was something else, something that made her spine tingle and her blood sing.
“You!” Malcanus barked. “You stay right here and don’t you move! I mean it! If you move, no treats for you!”
She nodded and watched as Malcanus took off. She wondered how well he could see and how he could fly in this weather. Terrified, she stood by the row of outhouses, her body stinging from the icy air. She heard cries, screams, and more howling. She sniffed and her keen senses caught a whiff of blood, even with the snow storm and the wind. She turned her head, sniffing, and she heard growling. It was faint, any other creature might not have heard it, but she was not like other creatures, she was tiufel spawn.
A supernatural creature, she had other senses as well. She felt the pain of another, it was like smelling food, it made her whole body jerk and quiver. She felt fear, terror, it was the fear of another, it was mortal fear, the fear of death. The sensation proved to be too much to resist.
Her body whompled through the thick powder, moving with an odd leaping six-legged gait. She ignored her nose and her eyesight and focused upon her other senses. As she grew closer, the feeling of pain grew worse, the sensation of fear grew stronger.
Like an inchworm, she bounded through the snow, close to something called a greenhouse, and she moved between it and a row of cabins. She paused, sniffed, and looked down. Bright red droplets of crimson could be seen in the snow, and the signs of struggle. Some of the glass of the greenhouse was broken.
Picking up the pace, she focused on her senses, now using all of them, and her instincts guided her along. Something else was hunting her delicious not-foods, the ponies. Her wings flared out from her sides and the spines along her back extended, thickened, and grew hard.
They were close…
With a fluid leap, she bounded to the roof of a cabin, flapping her mismatched wings, and she had a good look. It was difficult to see, but she saw several white creatures. One of them had a pony which they dragged along. The pony was still alive, bloodied, feeble, and still kicking. The creature had it by the neck. The pony had been chewed on a bit, but it was still alive, and this made her feel relieved in a way that she could not even begin to understand at the moment.
With a roar, she lept from the roof, front talons extended, and her mouth wide open. With her wings out, she glided through the air in very much the same manner as a catapulted boulder flew. She smashed into one of the strange shaggy creatures, it was white, quadrupedal, and had ferocious fangs that were almost, but not quite, as ferocious as hers.
Ramming her head down, she savaged one of the hunters, burying her teeth into his back. She felt bones snapping beneath the fury of her jaws, and she raked her claws into his flesh. Another creature approached and opened his mouth. A storm of ice came billowing out and it bit into her flesh like invisible teeth. Her joints grew stiff and pain wracked her body. Even worse, the blast of cold seemed to be healing the creature she had mauled. She could see its wounds closing up right before her eyes.
The others moved to attack her and her only consolation was that the pony had been dropped in the snow. She felt them biting her, savaging her, chewing off bits of her flesh. They bit down on legs, trying to cripple her, immobilise her, they pulled and tugged in all directions. She belched up a gout of flame and set one of them on fire. As it burned, another creature breathed out a cloud of ice and the flames vanished. The burnt skin began to heal right away.
One latched onto her neck and began to worry the taut skin of her throat. She twisted and thrashed her body around, trying to fight them, she whipped them with her tail, but they were biting that too. In the corners of her vision, she saw the bloodied pony in the snow escaping. She felt good about that, and she wanted to make certain that the pony managed to get away, knowing it would make Malcanus happy.
It was time to give the creatures trying to rip her apart something to eat. She tore a foreleg free and using her talon-thumb, she clawed open her own guts, causing her entrails to spill out onto the snow in a steaming pile. Her strength fled from her and she could feel them snapping and biting her, trying to get tasty bits. One was rooting around in her now hollowed abdomen. She felt something tugging on her lungs from the inside and realised it was going for the tastiest, tenderest treat of all, her heart.
With the last of her strength, she reached out with her talons and eviscerated the creature pulling her heart out of her chest. Her vision failed, going dark, and all sensation left her body. It was now impossible breathe, but her brain demanded that she try. Her body needed air. Snow swirled all around her, and the last thing she heard was the sound of something feasting on her own guts.
The bed was warm. She flexed and curled her various toes and talons, delighting in the sensation of having them. Her tail was folded up against her belly to keep it warm. She was hungry, so very hungry, and through her snort holes, she could smell food. Warm, salty, greasy food. She began to drool.
“I think she’s waking up.”
“How, Malcanus… how is this possible? There was almost nothing left of her, just a few scraps… and a puddle of blood in the snow… how…”
Yawning, she poked her head out from beneath the blanket. Her mind felt scrambled, like she had been having bad dreams. She looked at the others standing around her. They looked scared, worried, especially Freckle Speckle. She sniffed and thought about the bloodied pony in the snow. She had trouble remembering what had just happened.
“That was a very brave thing that you did,” Malcanus said in a low, solemn baritone. “Your flesh and blood poisoned them. Killed them.” He cleared his throat. “The frost wolves are getting smarter and more desperate. They attacked us from multiple directions this time. If you hadn’t’ve done what you done, poor Mustard would be a meal and I would have lost one of my sheep for the first time ever.”
Starving, almost crazed with hunger, her eyes fell upon the steaming bowl on the table. She licked her lips, hopeful for food. She glanced at Malcanus and let out a whimper. She needed food—the scent of Freckle Speckle was driving her crazy, and she couldn’t eat Freckle Speckle. That would be wrong. Even in her hunger maddened state, she still had a glimmering of right and wrong.
“We killed a chicken for you and made you some soup. She was old and didn’t lay eggs anymore. Might be a little tough, but I don’t think you’ll mind.” Malcanus gestured at the table with his wing, and stepped aside as the she-demon slithered out of bed. “There’s carrots, celery, and rice in the soup. Eat up, you need it after what you went through, and there’s a whole lot more of it.” As he spoke, she fell upon the soup bowl began slurping it up.
“They ate her heart, Malcanus, how is she alive?” Freckle asked in a low whisper.
“She’s a demon, Freckle—”
“Don’t say that!” Freckle snapped. “Demons don’t save ponies! Whatever she is, I refuse to believe that she’s a demon. She’s… she’s… she is something else!” Freckle Speckle stood there, stammering, struggling for words for a moment, and then gave up. She stood silent, turned her head, and watched as the creature she refused to believe was a demon gobbled down soup.
“But she is.” Malcanus words were soft and gentle.
“Malcanus, you bit her… how did you not die?” Freckle looked up at the much larger stallion that towered over her and her ears pinned back against her head, vanishing beneath her frizzy mane.
“I have a resistance to her poison.” He shook his head. “But not immunity. My dragon blood offers me much protection. My kind suffers for battling her kind though. It takes a toll on us. Leaves scars on the mind and soul.”
“I don’t understand.” Freckle’s eyes misted over. “How can she be what she is and comfort me when I was sad? Why would she give so much of herself for the life of another? After all these years, after all this time spent soul searching in this place, I thought I understood the nature of good and evil.”
“Whatever can change the nature of a pony can also change the nature of a demon, it seems.” Malcanus let out a snort and his ears perked as the wind howled outside. “She’s like us.” He pointed to her cutie mark, the book upon her hind hips. He then pointed to Freckle Speckle’s cutie mark, a bar of soap and some bubbles. Turning his head, he looked at his own cutie mark… a constellation of stars known as the Shepherd’s Crook. He turned his attention back to Freckle Speckle.
“I don’t know what can change the nature of a pony or a demon though. I just know that we make the choices that determine our lives and live out our lives with the consequences of those choices. Perhaps Princess Cadance can tell us more when she arrives.” Malcanus stepped around the table to refill the now empty soup bowl and patted the whimpering she-demon on the head.
“Three days, it’s been three days since the wolves,” Malcanus said in his rumbling baritone. “Mustard is still recovering, but he’s alive, and his wife, Coffee Cake, hopefully will have the courage to meet with you. She’s skittish, that one.” The big stallion stood near the fire, talking while warming his backside. “I need you to be a good girl… no chaos magic, no pranks, no being silly, no pulling your head off and popping it back on like you did with Glitter when she said you needed your head examined. Poor Coffee would probably faint and not get up ever again.”
Looking up from where she was reclining on the bed, the she-demon looked at her companion with wide, mischievous eyes. She adored the sound of his voice and listened intently, not out of a desire to do good, but more from a need to hear his voice. Her tail slashed from side to side and for a moment, it distracted her. Her claws flexed and she almost pounced upon it so that she might savage it. Her tail needed a lesson in manners and respect. Fed up, she hissed and took a swipe at it, but her tail, having a mind of its own, darted out of the way with almost supernatural speed. She heard a chuckle from Malcanus and returned her attention to him while her tail continued to taunt her.
“Coffee Cake is a good mare,” Malcanus said, talking so that he might hold on to the she-demon’s attention. “She doesn’t have to be here. She chose to follow her husband here to this place. Every week or so, she writes a letter to one of the princesses, begging for her husband’s release, and telling them that he’s changed. And truth be told, he has changed. I think he’d do just fine back in society. Love changes a pony… it’s funny but it’s true. Mustard might have loved his wife, but after she’s stuck by his side during the very worst parts of his life, he really loves her. I mean, really really loves her, and this love has changed him. He has a powerful desire to do good.”
She blinked and looked into Malcanus’ eyes. She did not understand love, but the idea of it intrigued her. Malcanus intrigued her. His voice, his scent, the way he moved, they way he stood, everything about him piqued her curiousity. He was gruff, but kind. Sometimes, when looking at him, she was almost overwhelmed by a confusing flood of emotions that she did not understand.
“Your book is getting full of interesting entries,” Malcanus said, changing the conversation. “You’ve made friends, gained trust, and it mentions that you would do anything for those peanut butter and caramel treats that Freckle makes. There’s a few entries that are kinda weird, but hey, magic book, right?”
At the mention of the treats, she began drooling. A long ribbon of slobber dribbled down from her lip and she gave Malcanus a hopeful look, wondering if he had perhaps stashed one of those treats with the plan of using it to bribe her for good behaviour. Just as the ribbon of slobber almost reached the bed, it vanished as she slurped it up. She heard more chuckling from Malcanus and wondered what was so funny.
“Fix your wing so you look tidy,” Malcanus said.
Without effort, the she-demon willed her one feathered wing to be clean and neat. Magic rippled along the feathers, a faint glow, and there were little wisps of magical yellow-pink flames as bits of debris burned away. In mere seconds, her wing was fit for military grade inspection, all without effort and discipline. As the last of the flames flickered out, there was a knock upon the door.
Most of Mustard was still bandaged and he stank of some kind of healing salve. He stood just inside the door and his wife, a small, chubby mare, stood beside him. The little mare was scared out of her mind, and the she-demon could smell it. The scent of fear did awful things to her, it made her hungry, it filled her with the need to hunt, to stalk prey, but she squashed down these feelings—she did not want a scolding from Malcanus—and there was the fact that she liked these ponies a great deal.
She did not move from the bed, but continued to lounge in an almost feline fashion, her tail swishing from side to side. She watched as the little chubby mare stood beside her husband, squirming, fearful, her eyes wide and glassy with terror. The sight of the scared little mare filled the she-demon with pity and she gained a glimmer of understanding about Malcanus. Such pitiful little things had to be protected, as the fear was overwhelming for the small, pleasantly plump mare.
All the more reason to be on her best behaviour.
“Hi,” Mustard said in a quavering voice. As he moved, his bandages crinkled. He gave his wife a reassuring nudge with one gauze covered leg and then just stood there, not knowing what to do or what to say.
“We wanted to thank you,” Coffee said in a voice that was squeaky with fear.
Coffee Cake was coffee coloured, she was a plain, unremarkable brown all over, with a lighter brown mane and bright brown eyes. For a moment, she overcame her fear and a warm, sincere smile appeared upon her face, but then the fear returned and she pressed up against her husband, cowering.
The she-demon could not help but notice that she wasn’t the only source of fear, the little mare seemed scared of Malcanus as well, and her whole body jerked when he moved a step closer. It must be difficult to be so small and so helpless, the she-demon thought, reflecting upon the situation. To have no defenses, to have to live under the protection of another, and to be afraid of your own protectors.
In the she-demon’s book, another entry wrote itself, unnoticed.
There was a meep of fear from Coffee, who then broke from her husband’s side. She crossed the room in a few steps, coming over to the bed, and after a moment of shuddering hesitation, she reared up and threw her forelegs around the she-demon’s neck, embracing her. Eyes closed, Coffee squeezed, her whole body trembling with fear.
The she-demon did not move. She feared Malcanus’ displeasure far more than she feared iron. She remained as still as a statue as the little mare hugged her neck. She could feel Coffee’s heart thudding inside of her, Coffee’s whole body reverberated like a drum.
It was at this moment that the she-demon had an insight about courage; being absolutely terrified, but doing what must be done. The little mare, while timid, had courage. She was terrified, but she had somehow managed to cross the room and offer up a hug. Moving with slow caution, the she-demon wrapped just one foreleg around the small mare’s middle and returned the embrace, all too aware of Malcanus’ watchful gaze upon her.
“Thank you,” the little mare whispered, “thank you so much.”
Something changed. The fear was gone. Little Coffee was now clinging to her neck and not letting go. Much of her trembling had subsided, and it took the she-demon a moment to realise that the little pony clinging to her was crying. She looked at Malcanus, then pulled her other foreleg free so that she might fully embrace Coffee.
“I’ve already been scared straight, so to speak,” Mustard said in a soft voice, “but this has me thinking. I caused this to happen. My actions brought me here, to this place, and… and… it has made me think…” His words trailed off into nothingness and he just stood there with a blank stare.
Coffee let go, dropped down on three legs, and then wiped her eyes with her foreleg before she put it down upon the wooden floor as well. The fire crackled in the grate as the mare stood there, sniffling, her eyes red and puffy. She took a step backwards, then looked up at the she-demon.
“I am glad that our little village has two dedicated protectors now,” Coffee said. She shuffled on her hooves, then offered up a soggy smile. “I don’t know why I am so afraid of you. You seem very nice. I’m sorry if I snotted on you.”
“I’m sure she doesn’t mind.” Malcanus, standing in the corner so he was out of the way, looked down upon Coffee with a fond smile. His wings extended from his sides, but only just half way, so that he might stretch them a little, and then he refolded them. He glanced over at Mustard and then said, “I don’t think he’s feeling well.”
“The pain medication makes him woozy,” Coffee replied. “We should be going. Again, I wanted to tell you thank you.”
“Come by and visit.” Malcanus returned his gaze to Coffee.
“We shall.” Coffee turned her head and looked over at the she-demon lounging on the bed. “I understand that you like cookies. I’ll try to bring some by. Supplies are short during the winter.”
The conversation was interrupted by the ringing of a bell. It tolled once and then no more. Malcanus, who had tensed upon hearing it, now relaxed a little, but the thick hairs along his spine remained standing and his tail flicked in an excited manner.
“We have a guest coming in,” Coffee said as she shuffled over to her husband. “I heard Princess Cadance is coming. Do you think it might be her?”
“It might,” Malcanus replied, “if the weather has cleared enough for travel.”
Alone in the cabin, the she-demon squirmed in the bed where she had been lounging. She had been told to stay put and to behave, so she was, but it was difficult. She felt something that concerned her, worried her, and made her afraid. She felt a presence. A terrible, dreadful presence. Something that made her skin crawl.
She made a mewling sound as the panic in her body became a living thing that writhed inside of her like a mass of snakes. Malcanus was gone to check on the visitor, whomever they might be. She wished that he was here, or Freckle, or Glitter, or anypony really. The sensation of fear was almost overwhelming, and it grew stronger by the second.
The door opened and a gust of wind rushed into the cabin. Stray snowflakes swirled about and the fire flickered in the grate. A cup sitting on the table rattled a bit and that was when the she-demon saw the very stuff of nightmares. In her mind, one terrible word formed, and that word was the sum of all of her fears…
Alicorn!
The creature of pure harmonic order stood in the doorway, she was a radiant, beautiful creature with fine features and a long, regal neck. Slender legs moved with an impossible perfection. She was flawless symmetrical beauty, a representation of harmony given life and form.
The she-demon let out a fearful howl of panic, pissed the bed, then in a near fluid, almost boneless motion, she slithered out of the bed and scurried beneath it, somehow fitting her entire bulk in the dark, shadowy place below the mattress. She cowered in the dark with her eyes squeezed shut, mewling with fear, wishing the radiant creature would go away.
“What’s got into her?” Malcanus asked as he stood beside Princess Cadance. He looked at Prince Shining Armor, who looked just as confused as Malcanus felt. He sniffed, smelling both urine and fear, and let out a snort. “What in the lower depths is going on here?”
“We are opposites, she and I,” Cadance replied. “Most demons are filled with too much hatred, loathing, and defiance of order to succumb to their natural fear of me.” The pink alicorn moved with exquisite caution as she approached the bed where the whimpering tiufel spawn now cowered. “Do come out, I won’t hurt you… I’ve come to see you and learn about you.” Cadance spoke as if she was speaking to a foal, her voice was soft and patient.
“Glitter Glammer has sent several reports.” Shining Armor looked up at Malcanus and gave a nod. “Cadance wanted to come right away, but we were buried under a blizzard. If you don’t mind me saying, some of the reports are a little hard to believe.”
“Yet the proof lies in front of you, beneath the bed.” Malcanus had a worried expression upon his face and he dropped his head, trying to get a better view of where the she-demon was hiding.
Shining Armor moved over to the fire and as he did so, he said, “Indeed.”
“I’ve dealt with demons before.” Cadance’s ears drooped down and she shook her head. “I’ve never seen anything like this.”
“Well, other than trying to eat Freckle, she’s mostly harmless. But trying to eat Freckle was a misunderstanding.” Malcanus, moving with a grace that seemed impossible for his size, went over to the cupboard and began to rummage around. He pulled out a container, then set it upon the table.
Sniffing, both Cadance and Shining Armor had crinkled noses when Malcanus pulled the cover off of the container of dried meat. Shining took a step backwards and looked disgusted, but Cadance kept her composure.
“Lure her out with one of these,” Malcanus suggested as he picked up a wad of jerky, pinching it between the thumb and central knuckle of his wing.
Upon seeing the hunk of dried meat, Cadance’s composure broke. Her lip curled back from her teeth and she let out a faint whine of disgust as her wings fluttered at her sides. Malcanus rolled his eyes and gave an impatient stomp of his hoof upon the wooden floor.
“Look, forgive me, but I am positive that at some point, you’ve had meat in your mouth—”
“Yes, but it was still alive and attached to Shining!” Cadance snapped as she backed away. “I’m not like Luna, I’ve never been comfortable around your kind and the sight of meat makes me queasy!”
A squeal beneath the bed interrupted the exchange, causing both Cadance and Malcanus to return their attention to the problem at hoof. Shining Armor let out a nervous laugh, then fell silent when Cadance turned to glare at him.
“Just take this and offer her a treat,” Malcanus said.
“Ugh, I don’t want to touch it.” Cadance backed away, shaking her head. “Besides, she’s not a dog or a pet. This feels wrong.”
“She’s about half feral and is more beast than anything else. Just try it… what do you have to lose?” Malcanus’ voice was both soft and cajoling. “Now that you mention it though, she can be both remarkably dog-like and cat-like—”
“Malcanus, you are not helping the matter.” Cadance took a bold step forwards and then snatched up the dried meat chunk in her magic. She cringed, then gagged, and after a moment of intense struggle, Cadance restored herself to a state of princessly calm.
Hidden beneath the bed, the she-demon looked out at the meat morsel held by the alicorn. She was far too large for this space, but she had somehow made her body fit into the six inch high space beneath the bed. She did not understand how her magic worked, only that it worked when she needed it to work.
The alicorn was worse than anything else she could think of. She would rather be beaten with iron or torn apart by wolves again than endure this. Her terror caused her to tremble, and as she cowered beneath the bed, she thought of Coffee Cake.
Courageous little Coffee Cake, who had been filled with mortal terror, but had somehow overcome it. The she-demon whimpered, not liking this realisation, not at all. Her heart felt as though it would jump up and leap out of her throat at any minute. She could feel her blood squirting through her veins in an almost painful throb.
“Come on out, I won’t hurt you… I have a treat!”
The alicorn did, in fact, have a treat. Even in the throes of terror, the she-demon still felt the keen pangs of her ever-present hunger. It was a pain that never fully went away, it was always lurking like some terrible rough beast. She peered out from beneath the bed and saw the wad of jerky being waved around. She sniffed, her snort holes flaring, and thought about how nice a bite of salted jerky might taste.
“Majesty… I need to… about what I said a moment ago…”
“Yes, Malcanus?”
“I did not mean it the way it sounded… it’s just… food usually has bugs in it, or mice, or rats, or any number of other vermin. Never once did I mean to imply that—”
“Oh come on, Malcanus, it was funny. Let it go.”
Beneath the bed, the she-demon heard laughter. It was confusing and disorienting. Alicorns did not laugh, they destroyed, they burned, they laid waste to everything and brought order everywhere their hooves fell. Alicorns were not creatures of humour, they did not appreciate pranks, and they had no love for chaotic mischief. The she-demon was at a total loss to understand why this alicorn was now laughing.
“A little part of you is just like me,” the alicorn said in a soft, soothing voice. “I can sense it. Your mother or your father was a pony… but I’m not sure which. I’m guessing that somepony made a deal… perhaps for some knowledge, or a powerful spell, or something.” There was a long pause before she continued, “And then you came along. You have within you a little spark of goodness that makes you special, a little spark that could not be extinguished, I’m guessing.”
“What do you mean, Cadance?” the white unicorn asked.
“The magic of banishment still clings to her,” the alicorn replied. “Come out from there and let me love on you, please?”
A faint hint of memory surfaced from the depths of the she-demon’s mind. Pain. Torture. Excruciating torture. Being flayed. Being skinned alive. Evisceration. They had tried to break her, to make her like them, they had shown her pain, and suffering, and her tormentors had an encyclopedic knowledge of every agony ever known. The memory became a flood that threatened to overwhelm her. She curled into a fetal ball, overcome by the memory. They were trying to help her, trying to cure her, trying to fix what was wrong.
Letting out a pained gasp, the alicorn fell to the floor with a thump. “Oh… ugh… the pain… Shining, help me… I can’t… I can’t bear it, Shining, I can’t,” she stammered as she too, curled up into a fetal position.
“Cadance, what’s wrong?”
From beneath the bed, the she-demon heard a commotion, but was in no condition to respond. She was submerged in a sea of tortured memories, left adrift. It was somehow worse in this body, in this realm, where everything seemed so much more real, where there was hunger and thirst.
Drowning, memory became indistinguishable from reality.
“There is another demon here.” Cadance gritted her teeth and fought to stand up on her hooves. “It’s hurting her… I can feel it… I tried to touch her mind and he… and he… he interfered somehow… I wish Celestia was here, she would know what to do.” She wobbled on her hooves and began to look around the cramped cabin.
“She has a book,” Malcanus said as he pointed to the book on the table.
Wings flaring out from her sides, Cadance whirled upon the book and lifted it up in her magic. The cabin became sweltering hot as her magic manifested, and the book resisted. A battle of wills was joined. Shining Armor, no slouch in the magic department, brought his own magic to bear upon the book. Malcanus, standing near the fire, felt his hackles rise.
“Speak, book, for I so command!” Cadance’s voice was like a thundercrack and everything around her trembled. “What are you and what is your purpose?”
“Fuck off, cocktease!” the book retorted.
“Wrong answer.” Cadance’s voice was a low growl. Her magic rippled along the book’s cover and after a few seconds, the book let out an agonised howl. “I have had dealings with your kind before, book. Submit to me!”
“Fuck you, you cock gobbling, cum gargling, asshole felching, semen slurping slut!”
Eyes narrowing, Cadance let out a dangerous pulse of magic that made it feel as though the cabin would topple and fall over. The book let out a pained wail and it’s cover began flapping like butterfly wings. It burned with pink flames and an ominous crackle filled the air.
“My name is Humiliation!” the book cried as its covers continued flapping. “I was sent to catalogue her many humiliations and make a novel of her sufferings!”
Malcanus, unafraid of demonic creatures in any form, stepped forwards. “I’ve read your contents. It doesn’t seem much like humiliation to me. Lie to the princess again, and I’ll have you ripped out of the book so I can play with you. And I know a lot of fun games, trust me.”
Cadance cleared her throat. “Perspectives, Malcanus. Demons have a very different view of what is humiliating.” She looked at her husband. “Pull the demoness out from beneath the bed and make sure she’s okay.”
Shining moved to do as his wife asked. He reached out with his magic and dragged out the limp body beneath the bed. She was unresponsive and didn’t move. Using his magic, Shining Armor cleaned the bed and the demoness as well, having had a lot of experience with cleaning up urine since becoming a father. He set the demoness down in the bed and placed her head upon the pillow as Cadance continued her battle of wills with the book.
“Why is she here?” Cadance demanded.
“Her insufferable goodness!” the book screeched. “We could not cure it, no matter how we tried, so she was banished to this horrible place with the hopes that it might fix her.”
Confused, Malcanus’ ears splayed out sideways and Shining Armor’s did the same. Both stallions stood there, blinking, with almost identical looks of bewilderment upon their faces. A dreadful silence filled the cabin. Cadance lacked the confusion that Shining Armor and Malcanus had, upon her face was a look of pained understanding.
“But this is a good place for her,” Malcanus said in a low growl.
“Again, perspective,” Cadance remarked in a voice filled with pain. “She is nigh immortal. She is a soft hearted creature of simple goodness. She will not age and only extraordinary circumstances will kill her. She will make friends, she will love, and she will be forced to watch as those she knows and loves grow old, suffer, and die.”
“Exactly!” Humiliation shouted.
“But… but… but…” Malcanus stood there, stammering, at a loss for words.
“She will know pain and loss like few others, and one of two things will happen. She may turn to evil, the seeds of bitterness and loss might create weeds that will choke out her innate goodness, or she may be steadfast and choose to do good. But that is a choice for her—”
The book let out a hissing sound and then said, “You ponies are tricky, deceitful creatures! She will be hurt by you! Betrayed she will be! She will grow to hate you and then she will be broken! Many times have I dealt with your kind! Many times have I been summoned in the burning circle! Many times have I been invoked so that one of your pathetic kind could humiliate another—”
“SILENCE!” Cadance boomed.
The book fell silent before Cadance had to resort to other means to make it be quiet.
“So, your kind sent her here, to this place, where some of the worst of our kind reside.” Cadance’s voice held a dangerous, quiet calm now. “No doubt, with the hopes that it would hasten the process. You disgust me.”
“What do we do, Cadance?” Shining Armor asked.
Cadance drew herself up to her full height. “There is no way I am letting this foul little imp continue to torture one of my subjects. And let me make that clear, Humiliation, she is mine. Any further attempts to cause her harm will be seen as an active act of war and I will respond in kind.”
“Uh, it feels wrong to just destroy her book.” Malcanus’ face held a tortured expression. “She’s very possessive of her book. It’s her cutie mark for crying out loud, this will hurt her if it breaks.”
“I will re-enchant it,” Cadance replied. “It will be a book of love, not a book of humiliation. She deserves better.”
“Any last words?” Shining Armor asked the demon bound in the book.
The book, still held in Cadance’s magic, said nothing. It made no reply. It hung suspended in the air, silent, with nothing to say. No insults, no crass words, no cruel jibes. Shining Armor let out a smug sounding snort and glanced over at Malcanus.
“We should do this before she wakes,” Malcanus said.
“I agree.” Cadance nodded her head. “Shining Armor, I will require your assistance. Malcanus, go and fetch Glitter Glammer. She is a skilled wizard and I will need her help. Go, and hurry!”
Conditioned to obey commands, Malcanus rushed off to do Cadance’s bidding.
“Malcanus, before she wakes…”
“Yes, Princess Cadance?”
“We need to talk, you and I.”
“What do you need of me, my princess?”
“Malcanus, I can sense how you feel about her, I know what lurks in the back of your mind—”
“Majesty, I am her guardian and her protector! I would never act upon such feelings!”
“Well, why not?”
“Because, it would be wrong.”
“Why would it be wrong? Because she’s a demoness?”
“Because, I have an obligation as her guardian and her protector. I will not take advantage of her.”
“You know, Malcanus, a lover can also be a guardian and a protector.”
“Yes, I am positive they can, Princess Cadance.”
“It’s okay to be attracted to her. She’s a sexy, slinky demoness.”
“Majesty, I am not sure that’s appropriate.”
“She is a creature in need of love and affection. She already holds a great deal of affection towards you, Malcanus.”
“She what?”
“She does, Malcanus. I can feel it. She adores you.”
“It wouldn’t be right.”
“Why?”
“It’d be like… it’d be like having your way with a feral mustang. Morally, ethically, it’s wrong. I could never do such a thing. Ever. My honour would never permit it.”
“But she has presence of mind. And if she isn’t in the mood for your advances, I am positive that she has ways of telling you no. Which reminds me, I I need to do something about that spell that is making her mute.”
“Princess Cadance, I—”
“She is a creature that deserves love and affection like any other. Would you be the first to break her heart, Malcanus?”
“Majesty… I… you can’t just expect me to—oh, very well, I submit. It feels very skeevy, but I shall test the waters, if that is what you command of me.”
“It isn’t a command, I just want you to be open to the possibility.”
“Of course, Princess Cadance.”
“Shepherd Malcanus, when was the last time you got laid?”
“Ahem… Majesty?”
“Shepherd Malcanus, when was the last time you ploughed somepony’s back forty? Celibacy isn’t a healthy state of being. We are social creatures, meant to touch one another. We are sexual beings. We are made to connect with each other. When was the last time you laid some pipe in a mare?”
“Uh…”
“Out with it, Shepherd Malcanus.”
“It has been a while.”
“Well, that demoness you have your eye on, she hasn’t been brought up with our societal mores. She doesn’t know our social rituals. She doesn’t know our ways—”
“Which is why it feels like I would be taking advantage of her!”
“I’m not asking you to screw her silly on the first date. I am asking you to follow your heart and try to teach her our ways. By the same token, don’t be afraid to do what comes natural. Sometimes, we ponies place too much emphasis on ritual.”
“I’m confused.”
“Teach her how to love and value life, Malcanus.”
“But I’m no great lover, I don’t know how.”
“Well, figure it out. She’s no expert either. And send me reports. Keep me informed. I want romance reports, do you understand me?”
“Yes, Princess Cadance, I will do as I am asked.”
“Good. I hear Shining Armor and Glitter Glammer returning. We have more work to do.”
With consciousness came awareness. With awareness came fear. With fear came the need to cower, and so that is what the she-demon did when she became aware of the alicorn once more. The fear wasn’t as strong, wasn’t as pressing, but it was still there, it bore down upon her like a crushing weight. Beneath the currents of fear, there was something else, something faint, but something she desperately wanted to feel.
“I fear a cruel trick was played upon you,” a soft voice said in gentle tones. “You were muted, to keep you silent. Even worse, you were set up to be terrified of me, with magic greatly influencing the natural fear your infernal nature generates in my presence. Something tried to trick you.”
The she-demon, curled into a tight coil, waited and did nothing.
“Come to me, so that I might show you the affection that you deserve,” the soft voice begged.
Compelled by some unseen force, the she-demon found her body responding. Even as her muscles clenched in fear, she found herself uncoiling and her legs moving. The alicorn was laying on the floor, sprawled out upon her stomach. The she-demon scuttled over, then, with a fearful whimper, she went limp before the alicorn, rolling over and going still on her side.
She felt herself being pulled closer and two powerful forelegs wrapped around her upper body. Resistance came as a reflex, but it didn’t last long. Fearful whimpers escaped the she-demon’s throat as she was pulled into a gentle, loving embrace. With a turn of her head, she found herself eye to eye with the alicorn known as Cadance.
And what eyes they were.
The she-demon lost all track of time and her fear flowed away from her. She gazed into those eyes and found a mirror into her own soul. Peering in, she found acceptance, she found grace, she found a profound feeling of love. An overwhelming feeling of happiness overcame the she-demon and she began to giggle.
“I have given you your voice back,” Cadance said as her snoot bumped up against the she-demon’s. “In time, you will learn to speak. I have banished the shadow that loomed over your heart. Now, you will know joy and happiness without reservation. There is only one thing left to make you whole.”
Ears perking, the she-demon wondered what that might be. She basked in the radiant love that the alicorn offered, it was very much like being in the sun. It filled her body, her very being, with warmth and light. Overcome with a feeling of affection, the she-demon wrapped one foreleg around Cadance’s neck, and then held on.
“Oh my… you are affectionate!” Cadance seemed surprised by the half hug and she smiled. “I was right about you. Oh, that’s a relief. See how nice this feels? To have a bit of a snuggle or a cuddle with another pony? Come a little closer and let me show you something.”
Using her magic, Cadance lifted up the she-demon’s book and opened it. She flipped through the pages, there weren’t that many events written down, and stopped when she came to a recent entry. Holding the book up so that the she-demon could see, Cadance then gave her an affectionate muzzle-nuzzle.
“Look, something appeared while you were out. Look, look and see.”
Curious, the she-demon peered into her book, glancing over familiar entries, until at last she came to a new one that she had not seen before. With Cadance’s breath hot upon her cheek, she began reading the entry that had appeared while she was out.
Today, Love saved me from Humiliation. With my salvation, I now have a name. I am Written Word, and I live my life as a testament of goodness to others. A she-demon I might be called, a tiufel spawn I might be, I can still choose to be good, I can have my story inspire others. I am loved, I am accepted, and I have friends. These are undeniable traits of my goodness.
Eyes tearing over, the she-demon stared at the journal entry, not knowing what to think. Cadance was hugging her and not knowing how to express her own feelings, the she-demon let out a faint mewling sound, followed by another laugh. She looked around the room and saw Malcanus, who stood nearby, looking worried.
The book was closed and then levitated over to a table, where it was sat down with a soft thump. The she-demon, now known as Written Word, felt her wings flutter and she was overcome with a feeling of ecstatic joy. It was as though some terrible weight had been lifted from her, some great fear that had lurked within the depths of her soul.
“Written Word,” Cadance began in a low, soft voice, “there is something I wish to ask you.”
Turning her head, her ears perked, Written Word waited.
“These ponies here, in this place, they need somepony to love them and protect them.” Cadance glanced over at Malcanus, and then returned her gaze to Written Word. “I think Shepherd Malcanus could use a helper. He’s done this job all by himself for a long time. I think you are well suited to look after my little ponies. Can you help Malcanus protect them?”
After a moment of thought, Written Word nodded.
“It isn’t enough just to protect them,” Cadance continued. “You have to love them, just like Malcanus loves them. These ponies here, in this place, they’re special. They’re hurt. They’ve sustained injuries to their minds and souls. This is why they need a shepherd, like Malcanus. As for you, I think the ponies here could benefit from the sincere affection that you have to offer.”
Again, Written Word nodded.
“Also, I need you to look after Malcanus. He’s lonesome. He’s so thoroughly devoted to his duty that—”
There was a loud groan from Malcanus, and he rolled his eyes.
“—he won’t relax his guard enough for somepony to get close to him.” Cadance cleared her throat and smiled at the interruption. “I need you to be his friend. You have my permission to be a little impish and pester him if the situation demands it. Be playful. Be affectionate. Remind Malcanus that even though he made a terrible mistake, he is still worthy of love and friendship.”
Written Word focused upon Cadance’s eyes and once more stared into their depths, perhaps seeking to peer into Cadance’s soul. She still had one foreleg around Cadance’s neck, and she gave the alicorn a squeeze. The fear was gone now, completely and totally. No trace of it remained, there was only joy, love, and affection.
“You are a precious gift, Written Word, never forget that. Every life has meaning, including yours. I am glad that we met, and I look forward to getting to know you better in the future. I’ll be by to visit, and to read your book as it develops.” Pressing her muzzle into Written Word’s jaw, Cadance gave the strange creature she held a sincere, loving smooch.
Written Word was true to her offered namesake; she was a testament to Love’s kindness.
With a snap of her toothy jaws, Written Word snatched a bit of cookie out of the air. She sat on the floor, being fed cookie bits by Malcanus, who threw them at her with a flick of his wing. The meal was now over, but the fellowship was not. Cadance sat at the head of the table with Shining Armor beside her. Freckle Speckle was close to Shining Armor and Glitter Glammer sat across the table from Freckle Speckle.
“We’ll be taking Mustard and Coffee Cake when we leave,” Shining Armor said to Glitter Glammer. “Mustard has had the sincere change of heart required to leave this place. He will never stray again. Coffee Cake has family in Ponyville that is willing to help her get established and start over.”
A satisfied smile spread over Glitter Glammer’s face.
“Speaking of changes of heart,” Cadance said in a soft voice as she turned her attention upon Malcanus, “it is time that you and I spoke about your future, Malcanus.”
The amused grin fled from Malcanus’ face and he became stern and serious once more. He folded his wing against his side and he focused upon the princess at the head of the table. Glitter Glammer cleared her throat, an uncomfortable sound. Freckle Speckle stopped smiling and then just stared at Cadance with wide eyes.
“Princess Luna, the Night Lady, feels that you have paid for what you have done. You have done your time in exile without complaint and you have performed your task most admirably. She gave you an order, and you have followed through with it. Not one pony has been lost under your watch.” Cadance’s voice held no trace of emotion and her eyes remained locked upon Malcanus.
“Princess Cadance, we cannot survive without our protector.” Glitter Glammer’s voice was hushed and fearful. “More than just about anypony, I want Shepherd Malcanus to be redeemed, but who will protect us?”
“Malcanus,” Cadance said, “I think we both know the choice you will make. You are a free pony and the Night Lady has forgiven you. Your life is now your own.” Cadance glanced over at her husband, Shining Armor, and then met the gaze of everypony around the table, including Written Word.
“It is my belief that I can best serve the Night Lady by remaining here.” Malcanus, his ears drooping, stared down at an empty bowl for several long seconds, then looked up at Written Word, who sat beside him. “I have obligations here… friends… ponies that I love, like Freckle and Glitter… they are very dear to me.” Malcanus’ voice sounded as though he might choke at any moment. “And now, there is Written Word as well.”
“Princess Luna will be visiting soon and the two of you can discuss this matter.” Cadance lifted up a piece of bread, used it to mop brown sauce from her bowl, and then popped the sauce soaked bread into her mouth. She chewed and made very unprincesslike slurping sounds.
Lifting her head, Freckle looked over at Malcanus. “We all dream of leaving this place—”
“And I dream of staying, Freckle.”
“You’ve earned your second chance, Malcanus. You should take it.” Freckle’s eyes glazed over with tears. “This place… the whole purpose is to want to leave it. To get that second chance. To make amends and then walk away from this place, restored.”
Shaking his head, Malcanus replied, “I choose to stay.”
“Malcanus, you are a fool.” Freckle began to sniffle a bit and then offered a trembling smile to her friend. “I don’t know what we’d do without you. Thank you, Shepherd Malcanus.”
Whimpering, Written Word just wanted Malcanus to throw cookies at her again. Leaning over, she nosed the pony beside her and gave him a hopeful look. The touch, however brief, was electrifying. Something had changed, but Written Word didn’t know what. The feelings of doubt, of hesitation, of residual fear, all of those things were gone.
“Princess Cadance, I think it is safe to say that Malcanus and I are permanent residents.” Glitter Glammer let out a troubled sigh and shook her head. “Here, I am somepony important. Here, I’ve made a difference. Here, I have a chance to serve others and do good. Elsewhere, I would be a nopony.”
“I have no desire to leave either,” Freckle admitted. “This is my home, these are my friends, and it was in this place that I found myself. More importantly, I found acceptance.”
For Written Word, there was very little awareness of what she was witnessing, other than it was heartfelt and sincere. She wasn’t quite sure what was going on, but something in the back of her mind suggested that change was happening, immense change, and she was a part of it. As important as it might be, it wasn’t as important as cookies. Grunting, she poked Malcanus with her snoot and then let out a plaintive yelp.
Distracted and a bit out of sorts, Malcanus produced a bit of cookie and tossed it at Written Word, who snatched it out of the air. Pleased, Written Word gulped down her chunk of cookie and smiled. Sure, it wasn’t delicious soap, but cookie was pretty good. Content for the moment, she relented and gave up on begging for more cookie.
“Come spring, there is going to be a fresh batch of new residents.” Cadance’s brows furrowed and she looked neither pleased nor happy. “New cabins will need to be built. I think another greenhouse will be needed. Maybe two. More soil will have to be tilled. This place will require more organisation.”
“More ponies on the last stop before perdition,” Glitter Glammer remarked as she scratched her neck with her hoof. “No doubt, some of them will try to run, thinking they can escape. Some are so quick to throw away the only second chance they might get.”
“A few have families coming to join them while they rehabilitate.” Looking concerned, Shining Armor leaned over the table and poured himself a glass of water. “I think it is time that we modernised the town a little bit.”
“We don’t want ponies having too comfortable of a life here.” Glitter stared over the table at Shining Armor, who was now drinking his glass of water. “I understand the need for a few modern amenities, but we don’t want ponies happy to live here. We don’t want ponies wanting to come live here.”
“We’ll have to strike a balance.” Malcanus pushed his bowl away and then rested his forelegs upon the table as he shifted his massive bulk forwards. Turning his head, he looked at Written Word. “We need to get you talking so that you can help us.”
Glitter Glammer, looking thoughtful, focused her attention upon Shining Armor once more. “If we are going to have families here, foals, and larger numbers, then I must request more protection. We’re going to need dedicated guards. Look, I understand the issue… getting back and forth is fine during the spring, summer, and fall months, but the winter would be a long post due to the weather.”
“Shining, we do have some guards in need of discipline.” Cadance looked at her husband, then over at Glitter Glammer. “But I feel uncomfortable leaving your protection to those in trouble or in need of correction.”
“Princess Cadance, with all due respect, you left our protection up to Malcanus, who has done a fine job.” Freckle’s voice was hesitant, timid, and she had trouble looking the nearby alicorn in the eye. “I understand that not everypony is as dutiful as he is, but I thought I’d point that out.”
“You know, it occurs to me, that for the residents living here, this place has been a resounding success. Recidivism for reformed individuals is almost non existent. Friendships are formed here… powerful friendships. There is a sense of community here that is amazing.” Princess Cadance looked around the table, meeting each eye in turn, and then at last, she focused upon Written Word.
“Call it fate, call it destiny, call it what you will, but you came to this place as well, Written Word. In this place, you will learn how to integrate into society, get along with others, develop relationships… you came to this place to grow. I can’t wait to see how you bloom…”
Grinning, Written Word bounded through the powdery falling snow, whomping along as fast as her six legs would take her. Not far behind her was Freckle Speckle, who shouted for Written Word to stop. Of course, the tiufel spawn didn’t stop, but kept going, because running felt good.
There was so much sensory input and it was almost overwhelming. The cold of the snow, the feeling of her body moving through the loose-packed powder, the taste and sensation of Freckle Speckle’s wooden stirring stick, the lightheadedness caused by laughter, the frigid air passing in and out of her snort holes, the wonderful taste of soap on her tongue—Written Word was high on sensation.
Taking Freckle’s stirring stick while she was working was Written Word’s favourite game and it was always good for a laugh. She started to turn to the right, but then darted off to the left, whipping her long, lithe body around, and then, very much to her surprise, Freckle tackled her. Knocked off balance, Written Word tumbled through the snow, rolling over, and Freckle redoubled her grip.
“I’ve learned your tricks!” Freckle shouted as she pinned Written Word with a hug. “Gimme my stick! I gotta make soap!”
Knowing that she had lost, Written Word spit out Freckle’s stick into the snow, then turned her head completely around to look at the little earth pony mare, not caring that such an act made little ponies freak out. Giggling, she stuck out her forked tongue and licked Freckle’s ear, which made the mare squeeze even harder.
“Oh, that’s yucky!”
The sun struggled to come out from behind the grey snow clouds, but failed. The day remained grey and the light flakes kept falling. The wind picked up, blowing downward from the north, and it brought with it a terrible chill. Freckle paused, sniffed the wind, and was distracted by whatever she had sniffed.
“Storm is coming, Wordy.”
“Storm.” Written Word said the word without error, and felt proud of herself. “Want soap help?”
The mare nodded. “Yeah, if I’m going to get my work done before the storm comes, I’m gonna need some help. I kept getting distracted by somepony taking my stick.” Smiling, Freckle gave Written one final squeeze, then let go and struggled to stand up.
No longer playful, Written Word picked up the wooden stirrer stick, then grabbed Freckle, who let out a startled cry. She tossed Freckle onto her back, turned about, and then bounded through the snow like an inchworm, bouncing the poor mare on her back up and down. Nopony could move through the snow in a straight line as fast as Written Word, not even Malcanus.
The she-demon wasn’t playing now, or running to play fair where she might be caught. She moved and did so with terrific speed. Freckle hugged her long neck, trying to hold on, and wrapped her hind legs around the she-demon’s body. Written Word’s claws gave her traction and her six legs allowed her to plow through the deepest, densest snow drifts with ease.
Playtime was over and now, it was time to work before the storm blew in.
Curled up by the fire, Written Word looked into her book at all of the new entries that had appeared, almost an entire pageful. Outside the wind shrieked and buffeted the walls of the cabin that she now shared with Malcanus. Words, there were so many wonderful words, and all of them were about her.
The most intriguing words were the following: Today, I understood responsibility and did the right thing.
Of course there were other entries that were also interesting and caught her eye: Today, I explored my infatuation.
Reading this, she looked up at Malcanus, and felt a hunger that food did nothing to satisfy. He was brushing himself, making himself sleek and shiny. Looking at Malcanus made her feel warm, it made her toes want to curl, and a part of her wanted to nibble him, even though he wasn’t food.
While she stared as Malcanus, new words appeared in her book: Today, I experienced intense lust.
Licking her lips, hesitant, Written Word prepared herself to ask a question. Words were tricky, she was still getting the hang of putting them in the right order, and asking Malcanus a question was even trickier. While there was much she wanted to know, more than anything, she just wanted to hear his voice.
“Why go you into Tartarus?” she asked.
Looking startled, or perhaps surprised, Malcanus lifted his head and blinked at Written Word. The tendons in one wing creaked as they tightened, and his ears flattened back against his skull. His snort holes widened, so much so that Written Word wondered if she might see his brains if they grew any wider. She didn’t want to see his brains, he needed his brains, and she wanted them to stay in his skull, not fall out of his snort holes.
“The war,” Malcanus replied in a smoky whisper, his inner fires stoked by his emotions. It was rare for him to exhale smoke, but when he did… he saw it as a warning sign. “Grogar, he came back. I’ve told you a little about him. Grogar, he… made himself a new body. He stole pieces of the souls of many. He stole part of the soul of a young sorcerer, and he took some of the soul of a nice filly that could pull things out of the dream realm…”
Written Word waited for Malcanus to continue.
“There were others too. This… this… soul thievery continued for a while, and then, with the blackest, most vile magics, a mare named Belladonna, she created an abomination within her womb, a terrible, black thing, a rotten thing… Grogar was reborn and he emerged as this half-goat, half alicorn… thing. He grew in strength and size with unnatural speed.” Malcanus set his brush down upon the table with the clatter of wood on wood.
“Belladonna was obsessed, fixated on making Grogar as strong as possible, and she needed terrible souls to do it. She and her forces invaded Tartarus, looking for the prisoners there, so that she could create a terrible amalgam of evil to bolster Grogar’s body. Most Equestrians aren’t even aware of the secret war that took place. Tartarus was a vault of ultimate evil, and it was raided. Many immortal entities that were secured there were killed. A lot of very bad things happened. Too many bad things happened.”
“And it make you sick?” Written Word asked.
“In the body and the mind, yes.” Malcanus nodded.
“Are you better?” Written Word found herself worried about Malcanus. He wasn’t like her at all—he could die. She could too, but it would take extraordinary circumstances, like crushing her heart between iron plates.
“Actually, I think I am,” Malcanus replied. “Glitter Glammer and Freckle Speckle have made me better.” The big stallion paused for a moment, and his voice dropped to little more than audible breathing. “You make me better.”
Closing her book, she did not notice that several more entries had written themselves. Extending her talons, she made a come-hither gesture with her talon-finger, and when Malcanus refused to come over, she dragged him over the floor by force of will. He was difficult and slippery to hold on to with magic—a trait they both shared in common—but Written Word was just now starting to realise that she had unlimited cosmic powers, being an eldritch abomination from the Abyssal planes. Using them unfairly was wrong though, and would get her lectured by Glitter Glammer, something that Written Word didn’t want.
Malcanus’ hooves scraped over the floor, and he stood, rigid, unyielding as he was dragged over to where Written Word sat beside the fire. She lifted her head, extending her serpentine neck, and she peered into Malcanus’ nostrils, concerned about the state of his brain. The big stallion was now close enough to breathe on her, and that left her in an excited state.
Reaching up with both of her talons, she grabbed his fuzzy cheeks, pinched them, and began kneading them between her talon-fingers. He stiffened at her touch, but then relaxed a little, and she watched his eyelids sag ever-so-slightly. Malcanus’ face was stretchy, like bread dough, something she was fond of playing with.
Working up her courage, she touched his lips with hers—it wasn’t quite a kiss, but it could be with some effort. Snoots touching, she breathed in his air, his scent, she drew in wisps of his magic. If she wanted to, she knew that she could suck the magic right out of him, increasing her own strength. She didn’t know how she knew this, but know it she did. She was a tiufel spawn—a succubus.
Malcanus was just standing there, rigid, a statue, and she continued to knead his cheeks while she thought about kissing him. She had done it before, a few times now. Her kisses were toxic, deadly, her succubus smooches were infused with venom, a poison deadly to ponies, and she wasn’t allowed to kiss anypony else under any circumstances.
But as for the stallion before her, her toxic kisses did nothing more to him than make him lightheaded for a moment. Sucking in a deep breath through her snort holes, she gave his lower lip a curious nibble, and she felt him tense in response. She teased his flesh with her razor sharp teeth, just a tickle, she wouldn’t dare draw blood, not intentionally.
Hot, sulfurous air came out from Malcanus in a smoky huff, a cloud of somewhat toxic, but mostly stinky fumes. The cabin filled with the redolent stench of rotten eggs, a smell that left Written Word excited and jittery. Her whole body trembled with a need that she did not understand, a desire she had no concept of, a hunger that she did not know how to satiate.
“You are a bewitching creature, succubus,” Malcanus said as more sulfurous fumes billowed from his toothy maw. “What have you done to me? How have you weakened my resolve the way you have?” His words were somewhat slurred by the fact that Written Word kept nibbling on his lower lip.
There was a wet sound, like water dripping, and Written Word looked around, curious, her talons still kneading Malcanus’ cheeks. After a quick search, she found the source of the dripping sounds, she saw it plain as daylight when she peered between the front legs of the draconic pegasus pony she was bewitching. Like the rest of him, what protruded down below his belly was made for maximum aggression, it was a terrifying, intimidating organ, and it was dribbling a ribbon of clear, glimmering liquid that broke off in heavy droplets. Even as she sat staring, there was a splash when yet another droplet hit the wooden planks of the floor.
“I haven’t been with a mare in a long time,” Malcanus confessed in a hot, eggy whisper. “I can’t be with the little ones, I’ve had to deny myself. I’m too big and they’re too little.”
Licking her lips, her leathery tongue lingering over her razor sharp teeth unharmed, Written Word could see why this was a problem. If Malcanus buried that into Freckle Speckle’s backside, it would get lodged in her throat. Malcanus was a big brute of a nocturnal pegasus, but Written Word was confident that she could take him.
She would have to keep the teeth down there from biting too hard, but she suspected that nibbling would be just fine. Strange knowledge filled her head, horrifying knowledge about herself. Those teeth were there to hold things inserted in, so she could feed, so she could drain their potency, suck dry their essence.
“This feels wrong, Written—”
Pulling her head back, Written Word pinched Malcanus’ lips together between her talon-finger and talon-thumb. Closing her eyes, she tried to gather her thoughts, her feelings, her desires. She feared her own insatiable hunger and what it might do to Malcanus, but she also knew that she could hold it back with will. She had choices that she could make.
And it was a choice she had to make. Her lower half was burning with infernal, internal fires. The area between her hindmost legs was moist, humid even, and she feared that, like Malcanus, she was dripping on the floor. Her hind-maw was drooling with desire, hungry for a meal, and she reminded herself once more that it was okay to nibble, but not okay to bite.
Then again, Malcanus’ length was scaly around the base, so she might get away with chewing on it, just a bit, if she was careful.
“Me to bed, take,” She said to Malcanus as she opened her eyes.
Much to her surprise, Malcanus did just that. He moved with supernatural speed, clamping down on her supple, slender neck, and she could feel his teeth pressing into her flesh. There was a gentleness to his roughness, and Written Word found herself being dragged over the floor, towards the bed, to a fate that she no doubt deserved. All of her different toes and talons clenched and flexed with anticipation, and she could feel her teeth grinding together at both ends.
She was thrown belly down onto the mattress, with some of her hind half hanging off of the bed, and four of her six legs gripped the bed, while her hindmost hung over the side. Written Word had no idea what was about to happen next, but Malcanus was still clamped down on her neck. His hairy, fuzzy bulk came to rest on top of her, and she tried to keep her spines relaxed. After a moment, her tail was lifted, shoved aside with great impatience, and then…
Stars filled her vision and Written Word let out a vicious snarl when Malcanus buried part of his length inside of her. She was being stretched, everything felt tight, and her prehensile possum tail coiled around Malcanus’ left hind leg. A drool-inducing mix of pleasure and pain wracked her body, leaving her defenseless, helpless, and joyous.
With her wings extended, Written Word gasped as Malcanus continued to spear her, driving more and more of himself inside of her. He rocked on top of her, sliding back and forth, oblivious to her spines. As more and more of him entered her, she could feel the thickness of his shaft, his girth, growing wider and wider. Try as she might, she could not stop her teeth from scraping him, and there were scritchy-scratchy sounds as their sharp points trailed over his penile scales.
A rough, hard ridge was being drawn over a sensitive area like a saw in an act of penetrative violence. There was nothing kind nor gentle about this coitus, this was the breeding of monsters, a draconic pegasus and a tiufel spawn from the blackest pits of the Abyssal depths of Tartarus. With each frenzied thrust, Malcanus bit down a little more on Written Word’s neck, and she let out a low, horrifying stygian moan in response while her spine arched to allow him easier entry.
Already, it felt as though she was approaching some great destination, her body was tensing, and she was alive with sexual violence. Twisting her head completely around, Written Word chomped down upon Malcanus’ neck, and her teeth pierced his flesh, just as his teeth were buried in hers.
Her talon-fingers, seized with a need to claw something, let go of the bed and latched on to Malcanus’ shoulders, bending in unnatural ways to reach them. The scent of blood was in the air, along with musk, rotten eggs, and she-demon pheromones. The first violent shudders wracked Written Word’s body, and she sank her various pointy bits into Malcanus, holding on for dear life while he hilted himself within her.
This was a love unique to apex predators and eldritch abominations.
Hissing into Malcanus’ neck, Written Word reached the peak of her climax. The stallion atop of her showed no signs of slowing, there would be no abatement of the sexual violence taking place. Each thrust produced a horrible sound, like some poor damned soul being cast into the vilest muck available in the stygian depths from where Written Word was born. Scales were peeled away from the base of Malcanus’ shaft, and blood intermingled with the milky-white fluid that ran down to the floor in rivulets.
Written Word avoided the temptation of drinking Malcanus’ essence, choosing to love instead, however horrifying this love might be. At last, the frenzied sexual violence reached a crescendo, and Malcanus acted as though he was a battering ram, allowing himself to totally let go with his lust. Written Word was still drifting, still burning without and within due to her post-orgasmic bliss. Her rough, sandpapery tongue lapped against Malcanus’ hairy flesh, tasting blood and life-giving salt.
Roaring, still savaging Written Word’s neck, Malcanus thrust his hips forward with such force that most creatures would have their bones shattered. He remained buried, and Written Word felt him grow wider, grow larger when he flared inside of her. She felt as though she was stretched almost to the point of breaking, she could feel her own insides straining to contain the monstrous cock that almost doubled in girth while inside of her. Her hind-teeth sank into his flesh, biting deep as he swelled within her, and the stallion found himself locked in place, trapped, with Written Word’s battered, slippery slit clamped down on him like a bear trap.
Whimpering, from both pleasure and pain, she felt him collapse on top of her, his body going limp, perhaps from relief, and his teeth were pulled from her neck. The she-demon relaxed her own grip upon him, pulling out her claws and teeth, though her hind-teeth remained firmly lodged into his throbbing, spasming, spurting length. With a powerful, dangerous muscle spasm, she crushed his cock, squeezing free whatever semen was left, making it squirt out like toothpaste from a tube. Written Word breathed a sigh of relief when his rough tongue licked the back of her neck where he had bitten her, and his hot breath could be felt on her fevered flesh.
The pair of them began to recover from their combative coitus, and on the floor, near the fireplace, Written Word’s book flashed with a brilliant pink light as three new entries manifested within its pages.
The first: Tonight, I was fucked silly.
The second: Soon, I will lay eggs.
And the very last: Soon, I will know the joys of motherhood.
