The Lights Between the Trees

by Grimm

First published 29th of February, 2020

Strange, floating lights have begun to appear at night in the orchards of Sweet Apple Acres, and so the Cutie Mark Crusaders take it upon themselves to investigate. They probably shouldn't have.

Apple Bloom isn't crazy. Sweetie Belle knows she isn't, because Apple Bloom keeps telling her so.

And so when Bloom insists that the Cutie Mark Crusaders sneak out of a sleepover to investigate the strange lights she's seen out of her window at night, the ones that Applejack says don't exist, Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo begrudgingly agree to help.

This, as it turns out, is a mistake.

Come Away, Child, to the Water

Night had smothered the orchard, drowning it in silence and stillness. A shroud, only the very tops of the trees illuminated in what little light managed to sneak between rolling clouds overhead, and the world was so quiet that even leaves didn’t dare to rustle in the gloom.

Dark avenues sprawled between the trees, rows upon rows of rigidly straight pathways that quickly stretched out of sight and into shadow, flanked either side by stalwart trunks, branches curling overtop to cover the sky. Within these paths the silence seemed even louder, every remnant of sound muffled and muted and stamped out until all that was left was a pregnant quiet. Empty, so empty that the only thing it could be doing was waiting for something to fill it.

But it wasn’t sound that came to fill the emptiness, at least not at first. Instead, the shadows found themselves cast into stark relief, the overwhelming darkness replaced by harsh outlines of flickering, stretching branches as a bright glow rounded a corner and began to meander its way along the avenue. Floating a few feet off the ground, it was difficult to determine the light’s size, bright enough that the edges were fuzzy and indistinct. Small, though, that much at least was certain, and it swayed its way lazily through the air as though borne on wafts of wind, although the night was far too still for that.

And yet still the world was silent, and even as the light drifted onwards – swaying, floating, wavering – not the slightest sound emanated from it, as quiet as the surrounding orchard. Only light, slowly making its way past the trees and sending shadows crawling over the long grass.

The sound came shortly after, replacing the quiet with muffled hoofsteps as the three fillies tried and failed to stealthily creep along the path behind the light. Trying, yes, sticking to the longer patches so that their hooves wouldn’t crunch against stones, moving slowly and carefully and only stumbling occasionally as their hooves caught branches in the dark. Failing, just as certainly, as one of the fillies lost a hoof down a rabbit hole with a yelp of surprise and pain, hurriedly shushed by the other two as though that would somehow stop the sound that had already escaped into the dark.

If the light noticed it was being followed – if it was even capable of noticing – it made no acknowledgement, continuing its wide, sweeping course without even the slightest hesitation or pause. A little ways back, the filly who had yelped released the breath she was holding in relief.

“I thought for sure it was going to hear me,” Sweetie Belle whispered.

“I don’t know if it can hear us,” Scootaloo murmured back, helping Sweetie to pull her hoof free as Apple Bloom stood beside them and watched the light float onwards. “We don’t even know what it is.”

“What it is,” said Apple Bloom, “is proof I ain’t going crazy. Applejack can’t keep calling me a liar once we catch it.”

“Wait, catch it?” asked Scootaloo. “I thought we were just going to look.”

Apple Bloom gave her a sheepish glance, a pointless gesture in the gloom. “Well, we can’t exactly prove what we saw unless we bring it back, right? Otherwise she’ll just say I’m making it up again. I swear the last time she was looking right at it through my window, same as I was, and she still couldn’t see anything.” Her expression hardened. “But I ain’t a liar, and I’m gonna prove it.”

Sweetie Belle lowered her newly-freed hoof to the grass, wincing a little as she shifted her weight onto it. “If you tell them we caught it won’t they know we snuck out here? I don’t think they’ll be too happy to find out we’re not in the treehouse.”

Apple Bloom was quick to wave her concerns away. “I’ll tell them it was just me, don’t worry. I won’t get you guys in trouble.”

A wicked grin crept across Scootaloo’s face. “But I thought you weren’t a liar?”

“That’s… I mean… That’s different!” Apple Bloom’s protests fell on deaf ears as the other two snickered. “Anyway, come on, it’s going to get away if we don’t hurry up. Are you okay to keep going, Sweetie Belle?”

“I’m fine, I think I just twisted it a little. Don’t go too fast, okay?”

“Okay.”

With newfound resolve the trio resumed stalking their prey, the light ahead continuing its meandering route ever onwards, the bright glow picking out the cracks of the tree bark it passed, dark veins creeping down the trunks. Shadows wound and twisted as it went, gnarled fingers reaching out towards the fillies only to be submerged in consuming darkness as they extended past the light’s corona and vanished into nothingness before they could scratch at the ponies’ hooves.

The orchard was large enough during the day – the pride of the Apples’ legacy – but in the darkness it seemed impossibly so. The trees passed them one by one as they crept after the light, and there was no end to them. There were always more ahead, uncountable ones they had left behind them, and either side fell quickly into impenetrable shadow. No way to know how far, not in the dark, and it was easy to imagine the avenues continuing forever, no end in sight. Only more trees, more spidery shadows and dark-veined tree trunks, but the light never hurried its pace. Sweetie’s hoof twinged with every step, making each one more pronounced than she would otherwise have noticed, although the grass was damp with dew and soothing against her fur.

“Wait,” hissed Apple Bloom, so sharply and suddenly that Sweetie Belle jumped, putting too much weight on her sore hoof and having to stifle another yelp. “Do you see that?”

“See what?” Sweetie murmured back.

Apple Bloom jabbed her hoof through the air, pointing onwards into the dark. “That.”

“I don’t see anything.”

And then she did.

A second, new light had joined the first. They were bright enough that Sweetie Belle hadn’t noticed at first, their edges indistinct and undefined, and so it wasn’t until the floating glows separated far enough that she could tell there were two of them. Stranger still, the lights seemed to be acknowledging each other, no longer advancing through the orchard but circling one another in the air in an odd, rhythmic pattern.

Dancing.

The word rose unbidden in Sweetie’s mind, but she knew it was right. The lights were dancing, swaying and soaring and spinning and sending the cascading shadows into even more of a spiralling frenzy. And when the lights decided somehow to move on again they continued to bob and weave, flitting and crossing over one another’s path, and now they were moving at a far more hurried pace than their carefree movement before, careening through the orchard.

“Come on, or we’re gonna lose them!” Apple Bloom broke into a gallop without waiting for an answer.

Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo exchanged a look, and, although they could barely see each other in the dim, they could still sense the trepidation in the other’s eyes. But there was no time for hesitation as the lights slipped further away and the darkness melted around them again, and so they broke into a run of their own to chase after their friend. Her hoof felt a little better now, but Sweetie still had to grit her teeth as she cantered onwards, and her gait was a little lopsided as they did all they could to catch up to Apple Bloom.

But the lights seemed to be growing faster still, and it was all the fillies could do to keep up as they barrelled between the trees, Sweetie Belle dropping back a little whenever she stumbled or landed particularly hard on her twisted leg. Her breath came in sharp pants, determined not to be left behind, not in the dark, not alone, and she focused on keeping her hooves moving even though every step felt like she might tumble into the grass.

And when she looked up to see how far ahead her friends had gotten, a third light had joined with the others, their spiralling dance only growing more intricate, filled with frenetic fervour. Were they glowing brighter? Sweetie had to squint just to keep her head up, the two fillies ahead of her silhouetted against the now almost blinding lights. And as she watched, a fourth and fifth snaked their way out of the trees on either side to join with the group ahead.

The orchard was growing sparser here, trees planted further apart, neat avenues dissolving into more erratic and haphazard patterns, forgotten now by the Apples and abandoned. The lights weaved their way effortlessly around the trunks that blocked their path, and the fillies followed.

They followed, and the night air was cold in deep breaths, and Sweetie’s leg ached but she ran anyway, ignoring the dull throb that resonated all the way up her limb with every step. Further and further, irrepressibly onwards, and now there were barely any trees at all. The carefully nurtured orchard gave way to wild grass and weeds, the lights lowering and skimming over the top of the unruly foliage like birds over the sea.

Apple Bloom, far out in front, was the first to screech to a halt, Scootaloo and eventually Sweetie Belle coming up behind her to stand side by side and stare down at the sight before them.

Unkept fields stretched away until they eventually met with the Everfree Forest, but the lights the trio had been chasing were no longer tearing towards it. Instead, they had stopped about halfway across the grass, gently bobbing and weaving around each other in the air. Waiting. Waiting. And, as the fillies watched with wide eyes, the treeline of the Everfree began to glow.

Lights. Too many to count, flooding out from between the trees to join the ones that were waiting. They poured forth in ecstatic excitement, meeting the waiting ones in the middle of the field and joining the dance. Spiralling, cascading, a captivating flurry that began to move as one. A shoal, a glittering sea. They soared through the air, upwards in graceful curves before crashing down into spiralling chaos again. The night was still and the fillies stood there in muted quiet, the only sound their softly panting breaths as the lights danced and weaved to music only they could hear.

Their movements were so entrancing, so distracting, and it wasn’t until Sweetie and her friends were surrounded that she realised they’d been moving closer at all. And as a light detached itself from the churning mass and began to float gently towards the three fillies, a small knot tightened in her chest. No longer wavering, no longer meandering, the light approached with purpose, even as the ones behind it continued to dance and crash and spiral. Straight towards Apple Bloom, deliberate but still slow, still gentle, and any illusion the fillies might have had that they were still undetected was long gone.

She wasn’t sure it mattered anymore; the lights didn’t seem to mind. The one that had broken free began to hover right in front of Apple Bloom, lighting up her features in the dark, and she was smiling. And how could she not? Sweetie felt it too – the calm that radiated out of it – and though it could do nothing to speak or communicate except to bob in the air the light was warm and bright, and filled with an overwhelming peacefulness. A gentleness and quiet that seemed the same as the one soaking into the night, as though the lights had spread it across the entire world.

Apple Bloom raised a hoof, slowly, reaching out towards the light to cradle it, but the moment before she made contact it dipped away again and she quickly snapped her hoof back. The light was not dissuaded, though, and was quick to return to her, this time soaring and snaking around her, down between her legs before re-emerging the other side. And, perhaps emboldened by the daring of the one dancing around Apple Bloom, the other lights moved in until the fillies found themselves submerged in a sparkling ocean.

Everywhere they looked, a spray of light and dancing colour. The lights seemed to celebrate their arrival, their movements only growing faster, streaming through the air in excitement. Urging the fillies to join them in the dance. Never touching, but so close that they were each lit up in the gloom, and the fillies found themselves laughing as they were swept up in the silent maelstrom.

Further into the field, ushered onwards as the lights parted in front of the foals to let them proceed, pressing close behind to dissuade retreat. Sweetie Belle didn’t mind, couldn’t mind; she was lost to the colours, lost in the frenetic energy, one that seemed to permeate the air and fill her heart with it, too. She wanted to move onwards, of course she did, wanted to find herself in the middle of the field, lying on her back and staring up at the swirling lights, a cascade of falling stars against the dark and rolling sky. Her friends followed, too, although she could barely make them out among the whirling lights.

Her leg didn’t ache anymore. There was barely any room in her mind for it to ache, barely any room for anything but the lights, the dance, and her hooves moved in time to a song she couldn’t hear, a relentless rhythm driving her onwards, into the field and beyond, floating along the river, pulled out by the tide.

The lights danced, the fillies danced, and the grass began to thin again and they barely noticed. Trees pressed in again, taller now, darker now, and the fillies barely noticed. Branches crunching underhoof, shadows starting to stretch and creep and crawl as darkness seeped back in between the lights, and were there less of them now? Sweetie didn’t notice, or maybe didn’t want to notice, or maybe wasn’t able to notice, or maybe all of those at once.

But no, the lights were definitely thinning, the dance waning, the excitement that had dragged her forwards starting to fade. Where had they gone? She hadn’t noticed them disappearing, but now there were easily half as many lights as before. A quarter, and even as she stared the lights seemed to vanish from around her, and the darkness crept closer.

Sweetie Belle scowled and shook her head, trying to clear it as she turned to her friends, only to discover they were no longer there. Instead, she was greeted only by tall tree trunks stretching to the canopy far above. Even darker here than it had been in the orchard, and a slow, sinking feeling was beginning to settle in Sweetie Belle’s stomach. This wasn’t the field. She spun in place, but behind her there were only more dwindling lights and towering trees, and which way even was behind her? She couldn’t see hoof tracks – not that she could have made them out in the dim either way – and as she spun a couple more times in growing panic, any sense of her original bearing was lost.

Where was the farmhouse? Where was the orchard? Where was anything – anyone – other than the darkness of the Everfree that had wrapped itself around her and now began to strangle.

“Girls?” she asked the dark, but the dark had no reply. She tried again, but her voice was hoarse and quiet, barely a bleat in the silence. She couldn’t bring herself to shout like she wanted to, not when the dark shadows promised lurking monstrosities, just waiting for her to make noise and give herself away. A tasty little morsel for some unknowable horror.

Panic. Claws and teeth digging into her, spinning desperately on the spot as though this turn would make a difference, this time she would find the tracks she must have left behind. They had to be there, must have been there, why couldn’t she find them? Where was she, where were her friends? How had the forest swallowed her so completely without her even noticing? How had the lights led her so far astray and then vanished so utterly?

And they truly had vanished, not even the faintest mote remaining as the shadows consumed what little vision she’d had left, and it took a moment before she was able to slice through the panic over her thoughts and ignite her horn, a pitiably small circle of light emanating from the tip, smaller even than a single one of the lights that had led her out here. It quavered against the darkness, trembling in rhythm with her rapid heartbeat.

Think, Sweetie Belle. You can find your way out of this. You can find Scootaloo and Apple Bloom and get the hay out of here, and then never talk about any of this again. Give up on finding lights, on catching them, and just go home. But you have to think.

But she couldn’t. How could she possibly? What was she supposed to do? Pick a blind direction and start walking? For all she knew she could be walking even further into the forest’s jaws. Search for tracks in her wavering light? By now she had churned up the dirt of the forest floor to the point that she wouldn’t even know where to start looking. Shout for help? Maybe her friends would hear her, or maybe something else would first. Something big, with razor-sharp teeth and an appetite to match.

Every choice impossible, every answer wrong. Sinking, paralytic fear soaking into every nerve, full of regret and despair and why couldn’t they have just stayed in the treehouse, they could all be safe and happy and asleep right now instead of here, instead of alone, instead of being eaten by the dark.

Sweetie shivered as a cold chill sunk into her fur and took with it the last of her resolve. Panting, desperate breaths, alone and lost, easy pickings waiting to happen and she couldn’t even bring herself to move, Sweetie Belle, just run. Surely that was better, surely she stood a better chance than just waiting for something else to find her first?

Another spin, imagined faces behind dimly illuminated tree trunks, muzzles dripping and slavering, creatures watching and waiting and biding their time for the perfect moment to leap out and devour her. The Everfree. Why the Everfree? Anywhere but here, anywhere but this cursed forest. And she could see those faces grinning, laughing, jagged teeth glinting in her horn’s light.

Light.

There. Between the trees, a dim glow. Hovering, floating, swaying slightly in the air. One of the same lights that had led her here, just far away enough to be barely visible behind tree trunks, only glimpses through the foliage to show her the way.

It was all Sweetie Belle had, and she lurched desperately towards it, stumbling over creeping tree roots as she tried to close the distance. But as she rounded the particularly large tree the light had been lingering behind, she found herself no closer to it after all. For every step she’d taken, the light seemed to have moved away to hide behind an entirely different tree trunk, a dark silhouette standing out ever more prominently in the gloom.

Another shiver of discomfort rolled down Sweetie’s back as she tried again, fighting her way through the undergrowth to the light, and again she watched it retreat. Always hovering the distance, but never allowing her to close the gap.

Did it know? Was it watching her, somehow? Waiting for her to make a move before scurrying further backwards to torture her even further? Getting her lost and separated in the Everfree wasn’t enough for the light, it had to toy with her further. Had to glow and glint and beckon her towards it, it’s not that far away, just go to it, catch it, and everything will be okay. You can manage that, Sweetie Belle, can’t you?

Why was the forest so quiet? Empty, bare silence, the only sound her terrified breathing, the thumping of her heart in her chest and the blood rushing through her ears. The floating light as quiet as the hush of the forest around her. Waiting, bated breath, full of dreadful anticipation.

And Sweetie shattered it by breaking into a gallop to tear after the light, still stumbling but panic sinking its claws so deeply into her that she didn’t care. She had to reach the light, had to catch up to it, had to do so before the things in the shadows that she knew were watching her came to be, crept up behind her and closed their jaws around her neck. So run Sweetie Belle, you can do it, you can get out of this. It doesn’t matter where the light wants to take you next, or why it doesn’t want you to catch up to it – anywhere would be better than here. Maybe it can even take you back to your missing friends.

But even as Sweetie Belle tore after it, thorns digging into her skin as she ripped through the brush, she could help but shake the feeling she was going the wrong way. That she should be running away from the light, as fast as her legs would carry her. That she’d been turned around, and with every step towards the light she headed further and deeper into the Everfree and away from her salvation.

No matter how fast Sweetie ran, no matter how sharply the forest itself seemed to dig into her fur and scratch the skin with brambles, no matter how many times she tripped over crawling tree roots and almost sprawled into the dust, the light escaped her. Sweetie Belle was beginning to wonder if this was even the same thing that had led her and her friends out here. Perhaps this was something else, or maybe she was even imagining it, so desperate for some hope in the bleakness that her mind had conjured up a light she couldn’t possibly reach. Perhaps she was doomed to stumble around in the darkness of the forest until she starved, or something else starving found her first.

But then, all at once, the light was not the same. Sweetie slowed a little as it began to grow brighter, even change colour. Now the light was a deep and brilliant blue, and as Sweetie’s gait dropped to a crawl it no longer fled from her but allowed her to draw near. Wherever it had been taking her, they had arrived.

A clearing. Wide and open, and filled with those gently drifting motes that had danced with her into the maw of the Everfree. Here they had none of the frantic energy they’d been filled with outside the orchard, lazily floating through the air without aim or purpose, gentle and calm. The grass grew deep and emerald, circling around the clearing’s centrepiece.

A lake.

The lights drifted over the top of the still water, sending scintillating sparkles across its surface, reflecting up against the encircling trees in shimmering cascades. The blue made sense now, a slight mist blanketing the lake’s surface and catching the reflections in its wake. White flowers blossomed around the water, still open even this late, such was the brightness and peacefulness that seemed to permeate every inch of the clearing. That same calm she had felt back in the field, amplified a hundred times. A thousand. Sinking into every inch of the clearing, entirely at odds with the creeping hostility of the rest of the forest.

And yet still Sweetie lingered at the outskirts, hiding between the tree trunks. That disconcerting sensation was back in full force, and the shimmering lake seemed to be its source. Some deep sense that she should turn, run away. That the prettiest of roses had the sharpest thorns, and this clearing was very pretty indeed.

And maybe she would have left and taken her chances in the forest if she hadn’t noticed another filly creeping out of the dark eaves across from her.

“Scootaloo!”

Scootaloo jumped at the sound, but as Sweetie emerged from the trees herself the relief on the pegasus’ face was palpable. They met over the emerald grass in the middle of the clearing, exchanging a brief hug that was a little too tight, as if making sure the other was really there.

“Wait,” said Scootaloo, the smile on her face fading. “Where’s Apple Bloom?”

“I don’t know,” said Sweetie Belle. “I was hoping she’d be with you, but I guess she must have gotten split up like we did.”

Scootaloo turned her gaze to the darkness of the Everfree, leaking out between the tree trunks only to be burned away in the illumination of the clearing. “We have to go find her,” she said.

“How?”

“I don’t know, but we can’t just leave her out there all alone. Who knows what’s waiting for her?”

“Wait,” Sweetie Belle said, resting her hoof gently on Scootaloo’s shoulder. Scootaloo flinched at the touch, her wings flitting anxiously the way they always did when she was on edge. “I know we need to find her, but if we go into the forest again there’s a good chance we’ll just get lost. And that wouldn’t help Apple Bloom at all. We both found our way here, maybe she will too. If we run off to look for her we might end up missing each other, and that’d be even worse.”

Scootaloo chewed her lip, still staring unblinkingly between the trees. “And if she doesn’t?”

“Then we’ll think of something else.”

Finally, Scootaloo sighed and turned away from the forest, looking out over the shimmering lake. “We shouldn’t have come out here,” she said. “How the hay are we going to find our way back now? Do you remember which way we came from?”

Sweetie Belle shook her head. “I was so caught up in the lights, and then they started fading away, and then…”

“Yeah, I know. Me too.”

Scootaloo’s eyes followed one of the shining motes as it lazily flitted across the water’s surface, skimming the water and sending ripples across the glass.

“And now we’re here,” she said.

“And now we’re here,” Sweetie Belle agreed.

“Do you think they were trying to lead us here? Or were they just coming home?”

“I don’t know,” said Sweetie Belle, dropping to her haunches at the lake’s bank. No, she didn’t know, but she certainly had her suspicions. The lights had sought them out, swept them up, borne them across the field and out into the Everfree, not content to give them a moment to stop and think and realise what was going on until it was far too late to stop them, until the fillies were lost and alone and their only chance was to follow that dim glow through the thorns until they stumbled out into this clearing. Into the lake.

“Does this place seem weird to you?” Scootaloo asked.

Sweetie Belle glanced around the clearing, at the gentle glow from the drifting sea of lights above that permeated every inch, every blade of grass, every ripple across the water. At the blooming flowers, and the emerald green stretching away until it disappeared between the trees. “A bit,” she admitted. “It’s too peaceful.”

“It’s too quiet,” Scootaloo corrected. We’ve been in the Everfree before and it was never like this. It was always full of creepy noises and stuff, but listen to it now.”

Sweetie did, and resounding silence was her only answer.

The same silence that had lingered in the night, that had pursued them through the orchard and compressed their sensations down to their hooves against the dirt, panting breaths, nothing but the sound of snapping twigs and scratching thorns as she battled through the undergrowth. The same silence now bathing the clearing, and maybe Scootaloo was right, maybe it wasn’t a peaceful quiet after all.

“Something’s coming,” she said.

“What?”

“Can’t you feel it?”

Scootaloo gave her a concerned look. It was hard for Sweetie Belle to even place it, exactly, somehow permeating the silence. It wasn’t empty after all, not the silence it was supposed to be. It was a full silence, the silence of everything nearby trying very hard to be quiet, to stay hidden. Prey keeping out of sight and earshot of a predator, although what manner of creature would be terrifying enough to silence the Everfree? To quiet the entire night?

And as the fillies strained their ears listening to the silence, it broke. Rustling, the cracking of breaking twigs, something charging through the forest towards them. The pair exchanged an alarmed glance, and the sound grew louder and faster, crashing through the undergrowth. Louder, louder. Closer.

No time. No time to run; she’d never make it to the trees before whatever was charging towards them would break out into the clearing. No time to hide, and nowhere she could have hidden, the clearing empty and sparse. The lake, yes, but surely it would hear the splash, and how deep even was it?

Do something. You have to try, don’t just sit here and wait.

But Sweetie Belle couldn’t move. Paralysed, hooves trembling, shifting to press close to Scootaloo beside her, as if that would do anything to protect them. Bracing herself, as if she could stop the beast if she simply dug her hooves in deep enough. The snapping twigs ever louder, the rustling deafening. Almost upon them, now, and Sweetie was sure she could see the bushes starting to rustle as whatever had stalked them through the forest prepared to burst out and tear them apart.

And then a small, very familiar pony launched out from between the trees and tumbled to a stop in front of them in a sprawl of limbs.

“Apple Bloom!?”

Apple Bloom looked up from the uncomfortable heap she had found herself in and broke into a lopsided grin. “Uhh, hey girls.” And then the floating lights caught in the reflection in her eyes and her smile was replaced by open-mouthed wonder. “Woah,” she breathed. “Look at this place! It’s so pretty.”

“Forget about that,” huffed Scootaloo. “What in Equestria happened to you? Sweetie and I were about to go back into the forest to find you.”

“Oh, well, after we got separated I wandered around in the forest for a bit, and then something started chasing me, but then I saw the lights again and followed ‘em right here to you guys!”

“Wait, something was chasing you?” asked Sweetie, her eyes widening. “What was it?”

“I don’t know, I wasn’t gonna stop to ask it,” Apple Bloom replied. “It stopped once the light showed up anyway. And now we’re all back together again, so we’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“Nothing to worry about?” Scootaloo shook her head in stunned disbelief. “Bloom, we’re in the middle of the Everfree in the middle of the night, and we’re lost. We’ve got more things to worry about than I can count.”

“Oh. Right.” Apple Bloom surveyed the clearing again, and although her wonder was clearly muted by Scootaloo’s worry, the floating motes still shimmered and gleamed brightly in her eyes. “This place feels different from the rest of the forest though, doesn’t it?”

“What?”

“I don’t know, it just feels… different. Kinda peaceful.”

“Bloom, please, we’ve gotta focus,” said Scootaloo. “Otherwise we’ll never find our way out of here. Do you know which way the farm is?”

“Uhhh…” Apple Bloom scanned the treeline, staring deep into the shadows. “No,” she admitted. “I know it’s to the south of the Everfree, but I don’t know which way south is.” But then Apple Bloom’s eyes lit up with a revelation. “Wait, what about the stars?” She craned her head upwards, and her smile withered and vanished again. “Oh. Or not.”

The sky above was a pitch-black circle speared by illuminated treetops. The clouds still thick, rolling across the sky, and not even the faintest speck of starlight managed to sneak through the blanket that covered them.

“Okay, so now what?” asked Sweetie. “Are we just stuck?”

“We could wait for the clouds to clear?” Bloom suggested. “Once I can see the stars I’ll know which way we have to go; Big Mac showed me how to do it.”

“That might take ages,” Scootaloo said, “and all the while we’d just be sitting ducks for timberwolves. Or worse.”

Sweetie Belle couldn’t help herself. “Or sitting chickens.” Despite the circumstances, she still had to stifle a snicker as Scootaloo threw her a particularly dirty look.

“I think we’ll be okay until then,” Apple Bloom said.

“And if the clouds don’t clear?” asked Sweetie.

Bloom shrugged. “Then we wait until sunrise and work out where East is. Sure, if a timberwolf finds us then we’re in trouble, but we can worry about that if it happens. It’ll still be better staying here than running around in the forest when we don’t know where we’re going.”

She walked over to settle herself at the edge of the lake, staring down into the mirror-like stillness, watching the lights sparkling in the reflection as they floated above it. “This place really is special, though. I wonder if it’s what the lights wanted to show us all along.”

Scootaloo slumped down beside her, and Sweetie followed shortly after, and together the three of them watched their reflections and tried not to nervously glance at the treeline, or imagine eyes glinting in the dark as they sized the fillies up for their next meal.

“It’s in the Everfree, I don’t trust it,” said Scootaloo. “Lights or otherwise.”

“What about Zecora?” asked Sweetie. “She lives in the Everfree.”

“That’s different. She lives here, but she’s not from here, is she? Not like this place. Not like the lights.”

The trio fell silent again, their attention drawn back to the glowing motes that had led them here, watching them float hazily through the air and drift above the water. One dropped low enough to skim the surface and a wave of ripples rolled out across the glass, shattering the perfect stillness and making the girls’ reflections warp and shudder.

“Are they bugs, do you think?” asked Sweetie, not really to anyone in particular. “They look a bit like really bright fireflies. And they move like them, too.”

Apple Bloom shook her head. “They’re too big to be bugs. And we’d see the bug bit, wouldn’t we? Maybe they’re more like parasprites. Big, glowy parasprites. Or maybe they’re just some kind of magical thing.” She shrugged. “Either way, I think they’re pretty.”

“Yeah,” Sweetie agreed. “I still think wanting to catch one was a bad idea, though.”

“Well, I had to prove I was right to AJ somehow.”

“Was that all this was about? Proving you were right?”

“No,” insisted Apple Bloom. A brief pause. “...maybe. I don’t know. I don’t like it when she thinks I’m lying to her. She’s the element of honesty, right? If she says something like that it makes it even worse, especially when I know I’m not lying.”

Sweetie considered this for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah, I know what you mean. It’s like if Rarity told me I was being selfish, I’d feel more-”

“Girls,” muttered Scootaloo, and there was a hard edge to her voice that sent a shiver of… something rolling all the way through Sweetie Belle, right to the tips of her hooves. “There’s something wrong with the lake.”

“What?” Sweetie Belle was up on her hooves, but the water remained as still and crystalline as ever, still perfect, covered in gentle reflections of the hovering lights above. “I don’t see anything.”

“Look at the reflections,” hissed Scootaloo, and now she was backing away from the water’s edge. “They’re not right.”

Sweetie frowned and stared down at the image of herself and Apple Bloom in the water, Bloom looking equally confused, but there was nothing. Nothing strange, nothing untoward, just two confused fillies and a third hovering the background with wide, terrified eyes. Nothing.

And then Sweetie’s reflection blinked.

She jolted backwards, grabbing Apple Bloom by the shoulder and dragging her away from the edge too, despite her confused protests. Her creeping revulsion only worsened as her reflection stayed exactly where it was, staring up at her in confusion.

And as Sweetie Belle watched, still stumbling backwards towards Scootaloo, still dragging Apple Bloom with her, her reflection’s eyes went wide with pure shock, grabbed Bloom’s reflection beside her, and began to pull her out of sight beneath the water’s bank.

Sweetie Belle stopped, relinquishing her grip on Apple Bloom although she’d already stopped struggling and was staring at the water’s edge with as much dismay as Sweetie and Scootaloo. Their reflections were entirely out of sight, but the fillies continued to warily eye the water as if staring at it would somehow stop their reflections from moving of their own accord. As if it would stop dripping wet images of themselves from clambering out of the water, seizing the three of them and dragging them down into the lake’s unknowable depths.

But none of those things happened. The lake was still, the reflections didn’t return, and as the three fillies cowered nothing seemed to change. They stared and watched and waited, and the lights still drifted lazily overhead, over the water, and it was only then that Sweetie truly understood what was wrong. What the lake was showing her.

The light drifted, and below it an identical light meandered, but it was wrong. A perfect reflection would have matched the light from moment to moment. This one trailed behind: the meandering of moments before. Displaced, set out of time. A reflection of the past.

It was Sweetie Belle who was first to approach the shore again, carefully, slowly, ignoring her friends begging her not to. They seemed strangely hollow and echoey in her ears, anyway, like they were shouting at her from the other end of a large cave, or underwater. Sweetie Belle was transfixed, enamoured by the impossibility of what she was seeing. The fear which had overwhelmed her had shaken loose in the face of this newfound mystery, as enticing and entrancing as the lights themselves had been. And sure enough, as she arrived at the shore’s edge, she found herself staring down at nothing but empty space where her reflection was supposed to be. At least until a few moments later when it arrived, breathing heavily, eyes wide, staring up at her with a mixture of trepidation and awe.

Slowly, her eyes locked with her aberrant reflection, Sweetie Belle raised a hoof, waving it through the air. For a moment her mirror image stayed perfectly still, peering up into the core of her soul, searching for anything untoward, and then it raised its own hoof too and waved it across the water’s surface. Now she knew for sure.

“That’s so weird,” she breathed, as much for her own benefit as for her friends.

“What is it?” Scootaloo asked, still unwilling to draw any closer.

“They’re just… behind,” Sweetie Belle said. “Like they’re stuck in the past somehow.”

Scootaloo stepped up beside her again, ever so cautiously, and the conspicuous empty space next to Sweetie Belle’s reflection had never been so apparent. And then the reflections rushed to catch up, Scootaloo reappearing in the water’s surface, scared and confused in equal measure, glancing sideways at Sweetie Belle occasionally as if to make sure she was still there.

“You’re right, that is weird,” murmured Scootaloo. She took a step back and watched as her reflection remained resolutely in position, only to acquiesce a few moments later and shuffle back to where it was supposed to be. “Why’s it doing that?”

“I don’t know,” said Sweetie Belle, but she was barely even listening. Instead, she sat transfixed, staring at her reflection, at her past. Imagining herself forever a locked a few seconds behind where she was supposed to be, every action playing catch up in a way she couldn’t possibly imagine. Perhaps somewhere there was another version of her, staring down into water too, staring right at her, except that version was a few seconds further ahead still and wondering at her lack of synchronicity, watching and staring and acting before Sweetie had even thought to move. And then perhaps more lakes besides, more reflections, stretching endlessly onwards through realities that were always just a little further ahead than the last. The thought made her stomach churn.

Break it.

An urging voice inside her shouted up, screaming all the way from the ends of her nerves, insisting as cold shivers crawled across her skin.

It’s not supposed to be this way, you’re not supposed to see this. Break it. Shatter it. Make it right.

Sweetie stopped waving her hoof and shifted herself a little closer to the water’s edge. Her reflection took a moment to do the same, and that overwhelming urge refused to fade even a little, and she found herself reaching out with a hoof towards the water’s surface.

Shatter it break it throw your hoof against the mirror and fragment it turn it into ripples, safe ripples. Break the glass.

Sweetie’s hoof dipped lower, closer towards the surface, and Scootaloo was so focused on her own reflection that she didn’t even notice what Sweetie Belle was doing beside her. Apple Bloom did, but she was so far back, now, a mile away, a thousand miles, and her calls for Sweetie to stop were barely more than a whisper of wind in her ears. And still her hoof lowered, and now her reflection was reaching up as well as if to touch gently against her.

She grit her teeth, tension vibrating all the way up her foreleg, and then before she could think too hard and change her mind she slammed her hoof down the rest of the way just as Scootaloo realised what she was doing and reached out to her in alarm.

Too late to stop her, Sweetie’s hoof colliding with the water with a loud splash and disintegrating their reflections into cascading, tumbling ripples. Flecks and droplets rising up from the impact point and spattering against her face as she drew her hoof back. The water was cool, but not cold, and as she stared down at the kaleidoscopic surface that overwhelming uneasiness at last started to settle, Sweetie’s stomach no longer churning, mind no longer racing with thoughts of being lost in time.

Apple Bloom and Scootaloo were quiet, now. And why wouldn’t they be? The damage was done, whatever it was; it was too late to protest. Instead, they simply stared at the water together and watched and waited to see what the tumbling ripples were going to coalesce into.

And watched.

And waited.

“Oh no,” Sweetie breathed.

The ripples were not calming. If anything, they only seemed to twist and turn even faster than before, sending the whirlwind of colour into a blur of refraction. She and Scootaloo took a step back from the lake’s edge in almost perfect lockstep, and now the ripples had spread to cover almost the entire water’s surface.

Worse still, as she stumbled back from the growing maelstrom, unable to tear her eyes away, something under the ripples moved. Not a reflection, not a part of the whirling shimmers. Something lower, beneath them, a shape down in the water’s depths, a shadow starting to grow as it rose towards the turbulent lake.

Panic again, full force, Sweetie staggering away from the water and now it was frothing, bubbling, boiling. The ripples turning into a cascading crescendo as the lake appeared to writhe in agony, and she could practically hear it screaming in her head: Why did you do it Sweetie Belle why did you break the glass why did you break us. She clapped her hooves over her ears to blot it out, but of course it did nothing. Unbearable, impossible, sanity slipping away in ripples of its own.

And then, in an instant, silence again. The water was still, one moment a seething sea, the next glass once more. Beside her Scootaloo was breathing just as heavily, her eyes just as wide. Had she heard it too? Had she felt it too? Sweetie didn’t want to ask, just in case Scootaloo hadn’t. It quickly stopped mattering as behind them Apple Bloom let out a hoarse cry.

“What is that thing?”

The shape beneath the water had reached the surface. It broke through, emerging into the bright glow of the clearing, rising unstoppably upwards, and somehow the water remained perfectly still as it pierced the glass, the surface peeling away from the thing rising from the lake.

No, not a thing. A pony.

But that wasn’t quite right, either. Shaped like a pony, yes, its coat a brilliant white that seemed to almost shine in the glow. But its fur was patchy, and where it was missing Sweetie Belle could see equally white scales. When the light caught them they would iridesce and sparkle, glistening. Its mane and tail long, as pure white as the rest of it, drifting ceaselessly through the air. Like an alicorn, but different. This was more like the creature was still underwater, as though the entire clearing was now submerged.

The three fillies stared, transfixed, as the creature’s hooves left the water and alighted on the lake’s surface as gently and effortlessly as a pegasus on clouds, like it was air, like it was nothing at all. It was tall, easily as tall as Celestia herself, but skinny and gaunt. And there was something strange about its hooves, something Sweetie couldn’t quite work out. Something different.

The creature took a deep breath, raising its head upwards to drink the air, and then opened its eyes – big eyes, oval – and they were the only part of it not gleaming white. Dark, black, fully and completely. And Sweetie still somehow knew it was staring right at her, staring into her, staring through her with eyes that seemed to have no edges and could see all the way through to her soul.

That peace and silence that had filled the night was back again, tenfold now. This pony was the source, the thing that was filling the night with its quiet essence that had permeated all the way to the orchard. It was hard for Sweetie to breathe, like the air was too thick; her lungs had to work twice as hard just to fight against the overpowering aura this creature radiated.

It took a step towards them, and still the water remained flat and perfect, no ripples beneath its hooves. The creature’s gait was odd, too. Lopsided, and finally Sweetie realised what she’d already noticed but couldn’t place, what was wrong with the creature’s hooves, why it was moving so strangely.

They were backwards.

Shouldn’t they be running? Doing something? Sweetie felt like they were supposed to, but that peacefulness had settled so firmly into the world that every part of her was a numb, heavy weight. That even her thoughts seemed to run sluggishly and slowly, thinking too hard about anything impossible. A glance at her friends, and they weren’t running either, Apple Bloom’s pupils as narrow as pinpricks, Scootaloo’s mouth hanging dumbly open as the creature approached the shore. Panic was there, dimly at the very back of her mind, but it didn’t truly filter through her consciousness and instead there was simply numbness. Instead, there was quiet.

The creature reached the shore, stepping up onto the emerald grass which didn’t even seem to bend beneath its backwards hooves. How weightless was this thing, that nothing it stepped upon even seemed to notice? The lights above swirled excitedly again, that gentle, lackadaisical floating replaced with frantic dancing. And still Sweetie’s hooves were lead, still her mind was numb and empty as the pony approached and headed straight towards Apple Bloom, frozen in place just like Sweetie Belle.

It stopped right in front of her, and Bloom let out the quietest of whimpers, some kind of rationality breaking through that oppressive numbness. Peaceful, yes, but too much so. Not calm, but a deeper, more intimidating quiet, one that put Sweetie in mind of ponies rotting in coffins – this quiet was death. And Apple Bloom must have felt it too because even though she couldn’t bring herself to run or struggle or even pull away as the creature leaned down in front of her, those dark eyes staring straight into hers, she whimpered. And even if the rest of her showed no fear, Sweetie Belle could see the raw terror in Bloom’s eyes, in the way her lower eyelid twitched as if trying to screw them shut when her body wouldn’t listen to her. If the creature noticed her horror, it didn’t show it, and instead simply leaned forward with its muzzle.

Another pang of fear, clutching around Sweetie’s heart and squeezing as she watched it move towards her friends face, already imagining a spray of blood spattering across her cheek as she sat there, numb, only able to scream on the inside and even that being a struggle, but the creature did nothing so brutal.

Instead, it simply leaned forwards and placed the gentlest of kisses on Apple Bloom’s forehead. Bloom gasped, her breath catching in her throat, wide eyes dilating all at once as her mouth dropped open in astonishment. She jolted as if shocked, and now when she stared up at the creature all that repressed fear from before was gone. There was nothing left but fascination and admiration.

Satisfied, the creature moved on, in front of Sweetie Belle herself, now, leaning down just as it had with Apple Bloom.

Move Sweetie Belle please move, don’t let it touch you, all scales and numb death and empty peace, scream and move and break the silence like you broke the reflection, before it touches you, before it kisses you, before you stop being scared of it

But of course her limbs didn’t answer. Like that time she had fallen asleep with one of her legs underneath her, and when she’d woken up there’d been nothing she could do to get it to move. So numb, so cold she’d thought it was dead. At least until the pinpricks jabbed into her and she’d shrieked in dismay but also relief that she could at least feel it again. This was just like that, over every inch of her, all refusing to listen, all cold. Would it hurt it to get it back? Maybe that was what the kiss was for. Maybe it would be needles all over.

She was about to find out. The creature leaned in to plant a kiss on her forehead, and the silence only seemed to get louder, the blood in her ears rising to a rushing roar, a cacophony of quiet as she winced a little – the only movement her numbness would allow her.

Its lips were soft and cold against her forehead. She couldn’t help but shudder a little at the sudden sensation, at the cool spot against her skin that the creature’s kiss left behind. And then she heard it, and she understood Apple Bloom’s change, and it wasn’t pinpricks at all.

The creature was singing.

How had she not been able to hear it before? It was everything, it was all the creature was, the song so much more than simply a voice but emanating out of every part of it in ecstatic waves, wordless joy. There was no silence. There had never been silence, no empty space. Sweetie Belle had thought it full of animals in hiding, full of numbness, but she’d been wrong. The silence was full of song. She just hadn’t been able to hear it.

The lights danced above them as Sweetie dropped to her haunches and stared up at the singing creature in wonder, and now she understood. All along they’d heard the water pony’s song, had heard and danced and been swept along by its exultation, so full of excitement and ferocious energy that it had swept the fillies up too even though they couldn’t hear it. The night full of song, and how tragic it had been that they couldn’t listen until now. The creature had been here, desperately singing, singing to silence. Only now could she appreciate it, could Sweetie hear the anguish and desperation to be heard in every single note, ethereal and echoing as it rocked gently from one phrase to the next.

It was in front of Scootaloo now, and she squirmed uncomfortably as the creature leaned in, and Sweetie Belle wanted to try and call out and assure her it was okay, everything was okay, the creature just wanted her to listen. But her tongue was sandpaper and her voice was dust, and even if she could have spoken Sweetie Belle wouldn’t have dared to interrupt the creature and her music. It was a her, now, Sweetie could be sure of it, and calling the creature it no longer seemed appropriate. She deserved better than that.

Scootaloo’s struggles ceased the moment the water pony’s lips pressed to her fur, and she froze as the song washed into her. Sweetie Belle thought she could practically see it burrowing into her core, could see the exact moment it overtook all that Scootaloo was and filled her with music instead, as she started to sway gently from side to side to match the rhythm they hadn’t even known was there.

Or perhaps they had known, even when they couldn’t hear it. Sweetie Belle remembered crashing through the forest’s undergrowth in panic, and each crunch of those branches underhoof punctuated the end of a phrase. They’d danced into the Everfree in silence, and yet Sweetie was sure if she could go back and hear the music they would have slipped between the trees in perfect time. The song had been hidden from them but they’d heard it anyway, even if they hadn’t been aware of it at the time.

What had they ever been afraid of? The song was so beautiful, so rapturous, echoing in Sweetie’s mind. Her friends smiling blissfully, the same smile she could feel stretching the corners of her mouth, too. The lights dancing above, and she wanted nothing more than to dance with them again, follow them. The song was a call, a summon. The pony in the lake wanted to bring them here, wanted to show them something, and the lights were its guide.

The creature was smiling as well, so overjoyed that her song was finally being heard, that she was no longer calling unanswered to the void of silence. That someone – three of them – could finally hear all she had to give. But there was still more, more she had to show them. Sweetie could hear that infusing every syllable of the creature’s melody. They’d come so far, and they were so close now. All they had to do was follow. All they had to do was let her show them.

And so the creature leant down, knees bending gracefully as those backwards hooves

Why are they backwards something is wrong here Sweetie why can’t you see it

dug into the grass, bracing herself. The song grew even more yearning, more excited, the lights above a dazzling array of sparkling and swirling colour, so chaotic that simply looking for too long made Sweetie dizzy.

Apple Bloom was the first to reach the creature’s side. Sweetie wasn’t far behind, although she wasn’t entirely sure when she’d stood up to approach it in the first place. That didn’t matter, though, why would it? Sweetie wanted to be closer, wanted the lights and the song and to be shown the wonder they promised her, the truth of the water pony’s earnest singing. The creature watched with a strange mixture of humour and adoration as Apple Bloom tried to clamber up onto its back, her hooves slipping uselessly over wet fur and smooth scales, and she only succeeded once the creature bent her head around and allowed Apple Bloom to use it as leverage.

Too far necks can’t bend that far Sweetie why won’t you listen to me why won’t you think why can’t you think why can’t you listen

She settled herself on the creature’s back, getting comfy, and it didn’t seem to mind or even feel the filly’s weight at all. Its song never faltered, never slowed, keeping the entrancing melody winding onwards forever as Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle approached.

A rough bump against Sweetie’s shoulder knocked her almost to the ground as Scootaloo barged past her, so desperate to be the next one to climb onto the creature’s back she didn’t even seem to notice Sweetie was there. Sweetie was just about able to catch herself and not tumble to the grass as Scootaloo reached the water pony’s side.

She didn’t even notice you Scootaloo isn’t like that please Sweetie Belle, listen. I know you can hear me, don’t listen to the song anymore

Apple Bloom reached down to help pull Scootaloo up onto the creature’s back alongside her, the pegasus’ wings fluttering idly as she clambered upwards, perhaps out of instinct, perhaps for balance. Soon she was in place, and only Sweetie remained on the ground. But that was okay, it was her turn now, and there was plenty of room.

And that was a little strange, wasn’t it? Because how big was the water pony? It had been tall when it emerged from the water, yes, tall enough to conjure images of Celestia in Sweetie Belle’s mind, but since when had it been big enough to fit three fillies on it with room to spare? Even Celestia couldn’t manage that. Had it grown, somehow? Hard to say, hard to know, and Sweetie wasn’t sure it mattered anyway. The song left no room for it to matter, and now she was beside the creature, too, reaching out a foreleg to clamber up and rejoin her waiting friends reaching down to her. And then the creature would show them everything that the song promised, and it would all make sense.

The lights above whipping up into a frenzied dance as her hoof pressed against the creature’s flank. Cold. Cold scales beneath damp fur, the same cold that had pressed against her forehead earlier. The song ever more excited and exultant, the lights an extension of its music. Of course they were, as intertwined with the creature as the song itself, guiding ponies to it so it could share its secrets, so it could share everything.

...where had she heard that before? Water, a light in the darkness, guiding those it found towards-

Anglerfish

The word slammed so hard and jarringly into Sweetie’s head she couldn’t help but recoil a little. Anglerfish. Lights in dark water leading only to teeth. She’d read about them once, and at the time they’d seemed almost cool, in a scary sort of way. But then she’d not been seeing it from the perspective of the little fish, swimming ever closer to the single light in the abyss.

And the thought was clear and different enough that she hesitated climbing onto the creature’s back, just for a moment, just long enough for it to realise she was having second thoughts and the song’s spell was broken.

It stopped singing.

Silence dropped over them again, true silence this time, and the lights above stilled. No more dancing. No more music. Only smothering silence and stillness, a drawn-in breath. The creature stared deep into Sweetie’s eyes, and she couldn’t help but stare back, and any compassion she thought she’d seen in those dark pits had long since vanished – they were as cold as the creature’s scales.

A shudder rolled through Sweetie as that unease pushed her back a step. Or at least it would have done, but when she tried to pull her hoof away from the creature’s flank it didn’t budge. Stuck fast. The white fur and scales had begun crawling up her hoof, surrounding it and holding her tight.

Above her, Apple Bloom and Scootaloo were blinking blearily, the daze firmly lifted now the creature had stopped singing, now it had gotten almost all that it wanted. They hadn’t noticed the scales starting to surround their legs and rump either, binding them ever tighter to the creature’s back.

“Get off of it!” Sweetie shrieked in shrill panic, bracing against the grass to try and free her bound hoof. She felt a slight shifting, some kind of give, but the surge of hope that rushed through her was quickly dashed as the creature rose onto its backwards hooves and the grass fell away from under her, her shoulder aching in protest as it twisted, dragging her upwards by her foreleg alone.

Bloom and Scootaloo had discovered their predicament, too, crying out in dismay.

“I can’t get loose!” Scootaloo stuck a free hoof down to try and push away from the creature, but then that leg was simply submerged into the scales too, melting into the creature’s form as it swallowed it up to the fetlock and held it tight. The scales creeping up her flank had reached her cutie mark, covering it over and trapping her ever more firmly.

Apple Bloom was faring even worse; all of her hooves were surrounded already, and all she could do to try and break free was to wriggle in place. With every movement she only seemed to sink further into the beast’s back.

The creature wasted no time in returning to the water’s edge as the fillies struggled desperately against the encroaching scales. Scootaloo’s wings thrummed uselessly as she tried to rip her hooves free, while Sweetie could do nothing but try to lower her hindlegs enough to find some support from the grass – anything to alleviate the wrenching ache in her shoulder.

If it noticed their efforts, the thing from the lake did not acknowledge them. Instead, it simply continued in its awkward gait until it arrived at the water, and kept going without hesitation. It didn’t cross the surface this time. The moment it stepped out it broke through the glass and began to wade deeper, no pause, ever forwards. Beneath, the water was opaque blue, the lights still hovering motionlessly in the reflection before being shattered by ripples. Water wrapping around Sweetie’s hooves, then her midriff, lapping at the creature’s barrel. How deep did it go? What lay beneath the blue, in the darkness she could only catch glimpses of between rolling waves of ripples and reflections? Impossible to know, but it was cold as it soaked into her fur and her struggles threw splashes into the air around her. Colder than it had been before.

Deeper still the creature sank, so quickly, too quickly, and now up to her chest, and her shoulder still ached but not quite as badly now that the water provided at least a little buoyancy. Small comfort, as it approached her neck. If Scootaloo and Apple Bloom were aware of the rapidly approaching danger, it was lost in desperation and struggling, in splashes and dismay

“Hold your breath!” Sweetie spluttered as the creature went deeper still and the cold water almost fully submerged her. “Before it takes us un-”

Advice that Sweetie Belle didn’t manage to follow, the lake’s surface reaching her head and rising above it as the creature dove downwards. Water filled her mouth, coughing and choking as it rose above her ears and the sound of her friends’ struggles became muted echoes. Desperately kicking her hindlegs, Sweetie was able to resurface for a second to take a stolen breath. The creature’s hold on her leg was ever stronger, her hoof lost in the fur and scales, and one breath was all she could snatch before being dragged back under.

And down, and down, and all three of them were under now, and for the first time Sweetie could see how deep this lake was. Her eyes stung as she stared below her, and there was nothing down there but darkness, all-consuming. Oblivion.

And into those dark jaws the creature began to swim, down and down, and in the fading light Sweetie and her friends struggled fruitlessly against the creature’s living, predatory skin.

Do something. Only you can do something. Only you can save your friends down here, else you’ll go down into that darkness together and none of you will be coming out again. Think of something while you still have the oxygen to think, while there’s still more than burning lungs and panic and screaming into the water. Do something. Anything.

And in the dark and the deep, her horn flared bright.

Scootaloo first, it had to be; she wasn’t as entangled as Apple Bloom. It would be easier. Safer. Start with her. Sweetie’s magic enveloped Scootaloo completely, the water rushing past her ears as the creature dove, no sound but streaming bubbles in her head. But ignore those. Concentrate. Focus. Pull.

She felt Scootaloo in her magic’s grip and carefully surrounded her hooves, felt where each met the creature’s skin, and then Sweetie Belle began to pull. Even as urgency started to soak into her chest, that burning and desperation to breathejustbreathe, Sweetie did her best to ignore it and focus on her task. And so she pulled, and there was no give, not even the slightest hint that her efforts were having any effect at all. Scootaloo made a desperate sound, a flow of bubbles leaving her mouth, and Sweetie winced a little. Time, time that they didn’t have, that she watched stream from Scootaloo and float towards the surface.

She tried again. Magic swelling, filling her, gritting her teeth with effort and concentration, trying to ignore the darkness below. Feeling her way, not really seeing but raw sensation, like touch but even that wasn’t quite right. Scootaloo’s hooves in her grip, winding her spell all the way down to where Scootaloo had sunk into the creature’s back.

Pull.

She pulled as hard as she could, Scootaloo letting out another exhaling whine, another shriek through bubbles, more air gone. But this time, even if only slightly, Sweetie felt something shift. Just a little, not even enough to see, but enough to feel. Some looseness that hadn’t been there before. She closed her eyes, unable to bear the water’s sting anymore. Try again. One last time.

Pull.

She felt the shift again, felt the creature’s scales slide and unstick, felt the fur wrapped around Scootaloo’s hooves ripping away, tearing, scales shearing and snapping. Like uprooting a tree, ripping and tearing through the creature’s moving hide. And she kept pulling, even though Scootaloo shrieked in pain and there were so many bubbles, even though the creature only seemed to swim faster. Its gait on land may have been awkward and unwieldy, stumbling on its strange hooves, but here it was in its element. Every kick of its legs sure and strong, bearing them deeper into the lake, down and down.

Another surge of magic, another pull, and with one last wrenching sensation Scootaloo’s front hoof tore free of its prison. A surge of excitement through Sweetie Belle’s chest, then. This could work. They could get loose. But soon, it had to be soon, before they were too deep and even if they got free they wouldn’t make it to the surface. Not without breathing in water and choking in the lake.

Scootaloo’s next hoof was easier than the first. Her hindlegs may have been more submerged in the creature’s flesh, but tearing out a hoof seemed to have hurt it enough that its grip had loosened a little. Focusing her magic again, another pull, another rip. Like pulling off a scab too early. The feeling set Sweetie’s teeth on edge, but she pushed through it and kept tugging, and with one final twist Scootaloo was free.

Free, but instead of powering towards the surface Scootaloo reached out and grabbed hold of Apple Bloom before the creature could whisk them deeper and out of reach. Tugging and pulling, Scootaloo kicking her legs desperately to try and help free Apple Bloom. Another swell of hope. They could do this. Together, they could do this, they could beat this thing, whatever it was, although time was running out.

Focus again, focus on the magic. Celestia, it was tiring. She’d always found magic exhausting, and this was already more than she’d ever demanded of herself. This was already more than she had, but Sweetie Belle pressed on anyway; it was all she could do. And so back into the magic, back into that well of energy inside her, suffusing through her horn and encircling Apple Bloom. Leg by leg, finding where she was joined to the thing beneath her, and if Scootaloo had been difficult Apple Bloom was going to be even more so. The creature’s skin had surrounded her all the way up to her rump, almost covering her forelegs up to the knee. Held fast, and she could feel Apple Bloom’s desperate but useless writhing in her magic’s hold.

Pull.

For a terrible, awful moment, even with Scootaloo doing her best to help, wings a blur for extra lift, Apple Bloom didn’t move at all. Sweetie Belle tried again, and still her friend was stuck fast. Worse, as she ran her magic down Bloom’s legs to try and regrip, the white scales and fur had climbed even higher, even more unshakeable. And then in her dismay Sweetie Belle breathed in some water, falling into choking spasms that only made her take in even more as her body desperately tried to replace the water with air. Struggling to get it under control, eyes stinging fiercely and her lungs aching, she reached out with her magic one last time. It had to work. It was the only thing that could work, all she could manage before the darkness at the bottom of the lake took them. One last try.

This time Bloom’s hooves budged, just a little. And then a bit more, and a bit more, and now her hindquarters were coming free as well, and goddess it was so tiring but don’t give up, you can’t give up until your friends are safe, only you can do this.

And you can do it.

More and more, the last of her reserves, and then with another rip through the water she pulled Bloom free with such force that it sent her and Scootaloo spiralling upwards, rocketing towards the surface. And still the creature swept downwards, leaving them far behind.

Sweetie looked up and saw them hesitate, an awful moment, and then Apple Bloom grabbed Scootaloo’s hoof and began to drag up to the surface. Scootaloo resisted a little longer, and then stopped fighting and made for the surface too. And of course she did: there was no more time. Not enough time to swim back up if they stayed and tried to help free Sweetie too. But it was okay, she could do it. She could still get free, she had to. Even as her body refused to listen and breathed in another choking flood, gasping for air that didn’t exist down in the dark here, she still managed to fill her horn with magic one last time, feeling her way down her leg to-

Oh.

She hadn’t noticed. How could she have, so focused on saving her friends? But of course she’d been sinking into the creature’s side the whole time, of course it had been swallowing her, creeping up her leg with scales and fur and whatever was beneath them. And now her magic found it submerged in the creature all the way up to her shoulder. Impossible. Bloom and Scootaloo hadn’t been half as deep as that, and it had taken all her magical strength to tear them loose. There was no way Sweetie could pull her leg that far out.

Another choking splutter, and she couldn’t keep herself from doing it now, and the surface seemed so far away, impossibly far, the barest shimmer above her. Darkness soaking in, only light enough to see the creature finally turn to face her even as it bore her down into the dark. It made no sound, perhaps it couldn’t other than to sing, but its eyes still seemed to burn brightly, pinpricks of fire in the dark, sunken ovals of its face. Down here there was no longer majesty in its features, no longer beauty, the shadows making it gaunt and hollow as those eyes scorched all the way to Sweetie Belle’s heart. And then it smiled, a wide and open grin that threatened to split its face in two, and its teeth were all too sharp. The eyes burned ever brighter, and she could see only too well how hungry they were.

More water, only water now, water and burning and thrashing panic, coughing only to breathe in even more.

Drowning. You’re drowning, Sweetie Belle. This thing is going to drown you and tear you apart, and you’re going to die down here, down in the darkness. Perhaps you already have. In those other lakes, the ones ahead of you. Perhaps you’re nothing more than a reflection of a Sweetie Belle who’s already gone.

The darkness was everything, her thrashing weakening, the glimmer above all but vanished. This was it. All there was going to be. This was the end. Light dwindling to a pinprick, breathing in water and no longer even trying to cough it back up as her lungs filled. The end.

…

...no.

No.

Spite. Maybe that was all that was left, maybe it was too late to save herself, but spite urged her to open her eyes anyway, spite filled every part of her as her horn surged once more with life she didn’t know she’d had. This thing thought it could take her and her friends, drown and eat them, but it had already lost two of them, and Sweetie wasn’t going to let it have her, either.

She wrapped her magic around her shoulder. Too deep to pull free, yes, even deeper now, but she wasn’t going to try. Sweetie clenched her jaw, trying to blot out her screaming lungs, the fog covering her thoughts, water rushing through her ears. Just feel the magic around your shoulder, Sweetie, around the slightest bit of leg not wrapped in fur and scales. Tighten your grip. Close your eyes.

And twist.

Twist as hard as you can.

Sweetie couldn’t hear the crunch as the bone splintered and snapped, but she felt it. Sharp, red hot shattering agony lancing up her limb, and if she could have screamed she would have done, would have screamed loud enough to wake the world. Instead there was nothing but more choking water and bubbles leaving for the surface, and even in the darkness she could see the slight mist that had begun to rise from her shoulder.

Again.

Another surge of magic, another twist. Already broken bone grinding, grating, slicing through muscle and tendon. And keep twisting, keep twisting even though you’re gritting your teeth so hard they feel like they might crack too, keep twisting even though every moment is pure anguish, keep twisting even though you can feel it tearing, ripping away. Even though you’ve never felt pain like this, overwhelming, absolute. Everything distilled into pain, no room for anything but drowned screaming and shearing agony and twist and don’t you dare stop.

The creature’s lips turned up in a snarl, and it craned its head round to try and snap at her, but that spite drove Sweetie’s hindlegs firmly into the bridge of its nose with an incredibly satisfying crunch, and even under the water she heard it hiss in pain and anger. She didn’t care, the slight bit of flesh still connecting her to the beast throbbing and burning and begging her to stop. She didn’t listen to that, either. One last wrench, one last burst of pain, and with a final snap Sweetie broke free of the monster’s back, leaving almost all of her leg behind her.

Go. Swim. Get to the surface.

And she tried, she really did. She swam as fast and hard as she could, even with nothing more than a jutting gleam of bone where her foreleg used to be, a cloud of crimson trailing behind her. The new lopsidedness threatened to tilt her over as she furiously beat a rhythm into the water, but she tried. Tried even though her shoulder screamed with every moment, tried even though her lungs were burning and crushing inwards from sheer emptiness, tried even though she had swallowed so much water already and each choking gasp brought even more.

And when the creature below wheeled around to pursue her, she tried even harder. Her hindlegs kicked out whenever it got too close, each collision less solid than the one before, only glancing off its muzzle as it nipped at her heels and tried to latch onto her with those too-sharp teeth. But if it managed that, it was all over. That was death. She had no strength left to pry it off her, nothing left to do but allow it to drag her down into the depths again. She didn’t even have enough strength to outrun it, no matter how hard she tried. And when she looked up at the surface and couldn’t even see that shimmer anymore, Sweetie knew she wasn’t going to make it. Each beat of her lopsided hooves didn’t seem to bring her any closer – imperceptible, pitiful progress that did nothing to quell the frantic burn in her lungs, the sharp ache in her shoulder.

The edges of her consciousness starting to fray, her legs thrashing weaker and weaker, slowing. The creature behind was just waiting for its moment to strike, and soon it would have it. Except… In those last moments, before the end took her, Sweetie looked down and there was nothing but darkness below her. No burning eyes, no teeth and cold scales.

It was gone.

She stopped kicking – there was no power left in her legs anyway. One last stream of bubbles from the corner of her mouth and Sweetie watched them rise, watched them float up towards the glow of the clearing above her as she began to sink. She’d given everything, and she could be proud of that, couldn’t she? She’d saved Scootaloo and Bloom, even staved off the creature so it couldn’t have her, sacrificed a whole leg for it. But too tired, now. So exhausted her shoulder couldn’t even hurt anymore.

There was a shape above her, barrelling through the water towards Sweetie Belle, but they wouldn’t get to her in time. She knew that, and it was okay. It had to be okay. Her eyes closed, and as she drifted in the silent water, the dark took her.

…

And then light. Stripes, warmth, lips pressed against her and breathing for her, breathing life back into her torn and drowned body. A blur of rushing water, growing light, drifting motes. Three pairs of eyes staring down at her, full of horror and dismay and concern and love all at once.

And air, sweet air. Air so thick and wonderful Sweetie felt like she could bite chunks out of it. She gasped and spluttered and heaved up splatters of water onto the grass beneath her – emerald – and then the world tilted and slid out from under her as she tumbled onto her uninjured side, and nothing could keep her eyes open anymore.

***

Sweetie Belle flinched at the sharp clunk of wood against the floor, and she took a moment to rebalance before trying again. One, two, three, clunk. Quieter this time, and she looked up at her friends sitting by the window with a wide grin.

“See? I’m starting to get the hang of it.”

“Definitely,” Scootaloo agreed, Apple Bloom nodding beside her. “But it’s okay if it takes a while, right? I mean, the nurse said-”

“I know what the nurse said,” Sweetie huffed. “But I’m sick of hospitals. I want to get out of here as soon as I can, and get back to normal.”

“Of course,” said Apple Bloom. “Back to normal.”

But Sweetie caught the slight glance sideways where Bloom didn’t meet her eye, instead drifting to the polished wood strapped to Sweetie’s shoulder. She hated that look. It would take time for her friends to get used to it, she knew that – hay, it would take time for her to get used to it – but she hated it all the same. Hated it because she had already resigned herself to seeing it far too often.

It was a good prosthetic – nothing but the best for someone as close to an element of harmony as she was – but it was still different. No matter how good a pony was, no matter how nice and kind and friendly, there was nothing that could stop the glance at her wooden leg when they first met, and probably far more times besides. Sweetie had already had enough of that glance, that missed eye contact, and she wasn’t even out of hospital yet.

Just another thing to get used to, she supposed. Like walking again, and that was already proving difficult enough. One, two, three. Clunk. Loud again, coming down too hard as it stomped heavily against the floor. She sighed and concluded that was enough practice for today, reaching up to undo the straps holding her new leg in place.

“Do you need help with that?” asked Bloom.

“No, I’ve got it. I have to be able to do it myself, anyway,” Sweetie said, fumbling awkwardly with the buckles. “Even if Rarity will be able to give me a hoof most of the time.”

Apple Bloom deflated a little at Rarity’s name, and Sweetie Belle couldn’t blame her; her sister hadn’t dealt with this very well. The sound that Rarity had made when she burst into Zecora’s hut that night and saw the jagged stump where Sweetie’s leg used to be, a choked wail of despair and disbelief.

And then she’d practically fainted on the zebra’s floor.

Sweetie didn’t hold that against Rarity, though. She’d also made the mistake of looking over while Zecora had been dressing her wounds and seen the gleaming white jutting through torn crimson, and it had made her more than a little nauseous. It was probably a good thing it had been so dark down in the water’s depths, because if she’d been able to see well there was a good chance Sweetie could never have managed what she did. And then…

Well, it didn’t bear thinking about. Best to just be grateful she couldn’t see in the darkness, and that Zecora had found them when she did, diving into the water to save Sweetie from her inevitable drowning. Calling it lucky would have been a stretch, though; Sweetie knew Zecora too well to imagine she’d been taking a walk through the forest in the middle of the night and happened upon them in trouble. They’d even asked her how she knew where to find them, and Zecora had simply smiled and told them the forest had shown her, and what were they supposed to say to something like that?

Perhaps she’d followed the lights too and didn’t want to admit it.

Whatever the case, it wasn’t important. The important thing was that she had been there to pull Sweetie from the water, to staunch and stifle the bleeding, to rouse her and keep her awake as her eyelids drooped and her thoughts began to swim into unconsciousness again from the gentle rocking on Zecora’s back. Woodsmoke and burning herbs, and then a hot sting against her stump as Zecora cleaned it. That had definitely woken her up again.

Sweetie undid the last of the straps, pulling her new leg free and leaning it against the foot of her bed. It was much easier to look at her stump, now, although it still seemed ‘off’. Stitched shut and rounded, smooth and rough all at the same time. Clean, yes, no more bone and ragged wounds, but Sweetie had spent her entire life with a leg attached there, and to suddenly have empty, yawning space instead still hadn’t quite sunk in. And if she hadn’t gotten used to it yet, how was anyone else supposed to?

Apple Bloom caught her staring forlornly. “Does it still hurt?” she asked.

“Only a little bit,” Sweetie replied. “But sometimes it itches, and that’s the worst.”

“The… stump?”

Sweetie shook her head. “No, where my leg used to be. It feels like it's itching sometimes, and I can’t exactly scratch it anymore, can I?”

“Oh.” Apple Bloom chewed the inside of her cheek, deep in thought.

“You’re going to say sorry again, aren’t you?”

“No!” insisted Bloom, a little too quickly.

“Because I said you didn’t have to, remember?”

“I remember, it’s just-”

“And that it wasn’t your fault?”

“Yeah, but-”

Sweetie Belle narrowed her eyes. “And that there weren’t any buts.”

Apple Bloom gave up. “Fine, never mind.”

And Sweetie Belle smiled. That was it, that was good. Just like things used to be, so that for a moment she could forget the stuffy smell of the hospital, forget the uncomfortable bed she had to struggle over to on three legs instead of four and refuse help even though missing a foreleg made it hard to climb up. Yes, ponies would always stare, and she’d hate that sidelong glance as long as she lived, but as long as her friends could eventually see past it then Sweetie would be okay.

Not just an uncomfortable bed, Sweetie mused as she lay back against the too-thin pillow. Her nights were restless, too. Nightmares. Dark water and anglerfish. Dreams best forgotten.

“We should get going,” Scootaloo said, reluctantly. “It’s getting pretty late.”

Sweetie nodded. “Yeah, you should.”

“We’ll be back as soon as we can tomorrow! Right when school gets out.”

Another pang. School. Sweetie could already imagine the stares, the whispers and murmurs. She could already hear Diamond Tiara laughing and imagine the names she’d come up with. On the bright side, Sweetie had to imagine that smacking Diamond around the head with a wooden leg would hurt a lot more.

Okay, maybe not that last one, as fun as it might be to imagine.

“It’s okay,” she said, “you don’t have to come if you don’t want to.”

“Don’t be stupid,” said Scootaloo with a wide grin. “We’re not leaving you stuck here all by yourself. No crusader left behind.”

Except you did leave me. In the lake. You left me down in the dark, left me with teeth and scales. Left me to die.

And she knew that wasn’t fair, knew there was nothing they could have done, knew she would have told them to go if she could have. Knew that if they hadn’t resurfaced when they did they couldn’t have told Zecora that Sweetie was still down there. But, as much as Sweetie knew those things, her nightmares still always started with her friends swimming away towards the light, leaving her at the mercy of snarling darkness below.

It wasn’t just them that would have to get used to things.

“See ya tomorrow, Sweetie Belle!” Bloom was first through the door, one last lingering look of guilt before vanishing through it. She’d get over it, though – Sweetie would make sure of it.

Before Scootaloo could vanish, too, Sweetie called out to her.

“Hey, wait a minute. Can you open the window for me?” She paused. “I want to listen.”

Scootaloo’s smile vanished. Her eyes darted left and right to make sure the room really was empty and no one was listening in. And then they met Sweetie’s, and there was such a terrible understanding in them. “Are you sure?” she asked, barely more than a whisper. “It might be a bad idea.”

“Have you heard it?”

A twitch at the corner of Scootaloo’s mouth. “Of course I have. Bloom, too. We didn’t think you knew.”

“And did anything bad happen?”

“No, but-”

“Then please,” said Sweetie. “I just want to hear it, that’s all. It’s not like I can go anywhere, is it?”

Scootaloo wrestled with her conscience a moment longer, then sighed and slumped her shoulders. “Okay,” she said. “Just promise you’ll get a nurse to shut it if you have to.”

“I promise.”

Scootaloo made her way over to the large window and rested a hoof against the handle, hesitating again, eyes closed. And then she pushed it wide in a quick motion before she could change her mind.

The song that filled the night was quick to rush in with the cold air, resounding through the room. As beautiful and peaceful as when Sweetie had first heard it, suspended in the wind. The creature had kissed them, cold lips on warm foreheads, granted them hearing, and now it was inescapable. Every night the creature sang, and every night she’d listen and think of the lake, the song wordlessly beckoning her back.

“Thank you,” Sweetie said, quietly. Her voice snapped Scootaloo out of the trance she’d slipped into, and she shook herself awake.

“Don’t listen too long,” said Scootaloo, stepping away from the window. “Or you’ll start to feel it again.”

Of course. The pull. The urge, tugging her heart towards the forest, towards the lake, towards white scales and burning eyes. Towards the anglerfish’s light, dark depths and sharp teeth. Even now it didn’t seem so bad to imagine clambering out of her bed and stumbling all the way to the Everfree, finding the creature making such beautiful song, embracing it, letting it kiss her and then riding on its back down into the water. At least until her attention shifted to what remained of her leg and those desires melted away and rolled down her back like icy water.

Scootaloo was gone. Sweetie Belle hadn’t noticed her leave. She had vague memories of saying goodbye, see you tomorrow, but they felt strangely alien. Memories that she didn’t truly remember, like they’d been put there afterwards to replace the truth. Because the truth was that she’d been too busy listening to remember anything else.

Sweetie leaned back and closed her eyes. A few more minutes wouldn’t hurt. Just a few more minutes to enjoy the music, to sink into that deep relaxation and peace it brought with it, to listen to the creature in the lake sing its heart out. A voice of crystal and glass, fragile but oh so sharp.

A few more minutes would be okay. A few more minutes would be safe.

And so Sweetie smiled and sank into the pillow, and outside her window a lone light swayed in perfect rhythm with the music that filled the night.