> Kaidan
>  by Lupine Infernis
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> 1st Candle
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Excuse me. Excuse me, mister?”

Onyx, an average farmpony taking his routine route into town to sell produce, stopped in his tracks. The wagon he was pulling jostled, years and weather loosening the rivets in the wheels; he meant to get them replaced a dog’s age ago, but things kept coming up.

Adjusting his equally weathered hat, Onyx turned his head to the cast-iron gates standing double his height. Peering through the thick, cold bars, her face practically squeezing through, was a pretty, young filly dolled up in a dress so gaudy that his eyes took personal offense.

The filly’s big blue eyes were wide and frightened. “Mister, could you please help me?”

Onyx blinked and looked at the brick walls on either side of the portal. To be more precise, he looked at the golden plaque above the mail slot.


Gold Tooth Residence


It took him some time to make out the words; they were etched in some fancy scripture. He was slightly ashamed that he did not already know this since he walked past this gate many, many times before.

Then again, the manor behind this gate was owned by the type of ponies that wouldn’t give his type the time of day. Hell, they probably had a servant go into town to purchase their food, so he wouldn’t have seen their faces at the marketplace.

Onyx suddenly realized that he was being addressed, and however great the gap in societal status between him and this filly was, manners should always be respected – that’s what his pappy taught him.

“Hey there, little lady,” Onyx tipped his hat and gave a reassuring smile while discreetly searching the courtyard behind the gate for the filly’s parents. “Somethin’ I can do for ye?”

The filly sighed in relief. “Oh, thank you ever so much. Y-yes, I could really use your help. Oh!” Her small white hoof stuck through the bars. “My name is Jade Gold Tooth. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

Onyx grimaced as he looked down at her hoof. It was only right to return a shake, but… “Ah, ye see, little miss, my hooves are awful dirty comin’ here from my farm. Don’t have cobblestone there, ye see. I wouldn’t wanna-”

“It’s fine. I don’t mind.”

Onyx shrugged and reached over to shake Jade’s hoof. “Pleasure’s all mine.”

She was so small.

Jade pulled her foreleg back, ignoring the dirt on her white fur. She was focused solely on him. “Mister, I’m sorry to disturb you, but I don’t know what else to do. My parents won’t do anything, and my brother…” Her face fell. “My brother’s always busy.”

Onyx nodded. Family troubles? “I’ll hear ye out, little miss. And I’ll do whatever I can, but don’t go expectin’ miracles now.”

“Yes, well, you see…” Jade turned her head and whimpered. “There’s a dog next door.”

Onyx looked down the path he was taking.

There was another manor further down. Another gate. Another brick wall sealing the outside world from a rich stallion’s property.

Onyx didn’t know who lived there, either.

“A dog?” He turned back to the filly, unable to hide his amusement. “Ye scared of dogs, little miss?”

“No, I love dogs,” Jade protested. “But… not this one. He… barks at me all the time.”

“Dogs get mighty protective of their home,” Onyx replied in a gentler tone, noticing the filly’s fear. “Is he loose?”

Jade nodded firmly. “Yes, he is.”

“Hm,” Onyx clicked his tongue. “Owner should know to keep their hound secure.”

“Well…” Jade averted her gaze for an instant. “He’s never allowed outside the gates, but I think there’s a hole in the wall or something because he gets out when I’m here by myself and stands outside-”

“By yourself?!” It wasn’t good manners to interrupt, but Onyx was startled. “No one stays home with you?”

Jade looked down despondently. “Mom and dad are always busy. My brother spends all his time down at his friend’s office, too. I think he wants to become an accountant because he always talks about money,” She turned her head, referring to the neighbouring manor. “The lady who lives there leaves in the morning and comes back at night.”

Onyx frowned. “Ye got no sitters? Nopony to look after ye?”

She shook her head. “My tutor comes on the weekends, but that’s it.”

“How old are ye?”

“Ten.”

A dark flame burned in Onyx’s breast. He adjusted his hat to keep his hooves occupied. “Hm. Ain’t old enough for that. Yer a tough filly, ye know?”

Jade beamed shyly. “Thank you, mister. You’re very kind.”

Onyx took another few seconds to cool off before gesturing down the path. “So, about this dog – ye say he only barks at ye when yer by your lonesome?”

Jade nodded, shooting a sour glare in its direction. “Always. He never barks when my parents or my brother are home. He doesn’t bark when that lady comes home, too. And-and…!” She turned back to him, grimacing. “He stands outside the gates when he does it. Right where you’re standing.”

Onyx looked down at his hooves. “Huh.”

“And whenever he hears somepony coming down the road, he runs back home.”

“Ain’t that something,” Onyx tipped his hat up and scratched a spot near his temple. “Sounds like a smart ‘un. Ye know when he started doing this?”

Jade was quiet for a bit. “Almost two weeks ago. I told my parents, and they talked to the lady next door, but that dog doesn’t do anything when the adults are around, so…” She gave a helpless shrug. “I’m too scared to go over there, so I tried getting adults that walk by to help.”

“Ye shouldn’t talk to ponies ye don’t know, little miss.”

Her eyebrows rose. “But you didn’t know me.”

“Well, yeah, but… Aw, shucks – ye got me there. Anyhow, what is it ye want done, exactly? Barking or no, I ain’t gonna hurt the beast…”

“No, no, no!” Jade shook her head wildly. “He scares me, but I don’t want him dead! Or hurt. I just want him to stop barking. I thought… Well, my mom said that when my brother used to act up, dad would give him a spanking and a lecture.”

Onyx’s tail twitched in sympathy. “My pappy was the same.”

“I don’t think you should spank the dog…” Jade trailed off a little, seemingly envisioning the sight. “But can’t you give him a stern talk? Maybe he does that because his owner never disciplines him.”

It was a far-fetched idea, Onyx thought. He didn’t have much confidence something like that would work, but Jade seemed desperate and he did say he would help. She wasn’t asking for a miracle.

Ah, what the hell? Dogs were pretty dang smart, so it was worth a shot.

Onyx opened his mouth to agree-

“Somepony else said they’d do it, too,” Jade said suddenly. “But when he went over, they stood still for a while, then just ran off.”

Onyx blinked. “Ran off? Why?”

“I don’t know. The dog wasn’t barking and he’s not that big.”

Onyx mulled that over for a bit before casting it aside as unimportant. “Well, little miss, I’ll do what I can.”

Jade squealed and bounced. “Thank you so much, mister! Don’t be sad if it doesn’t work. I’m just happy that you’re trying!”

Onyx grinned as he unhooked himself from the wagon. What a sweet little filly.

Wiping his brow, Onyx trotted down the road until he was past the Golden Tooth manor and onto…

He squinted at the plaque as he went by. “Copper Ear, eh? Hm. My grand-pappy was Copper, if I remember right.”

Another cast iron gate stood before him.

Onyx peered through the bars.

He spotted the dog easily enough.

It was curled up at the manor’s front door – small and white with brown spots. The beast was barely larger than Jade.

Some full-grown stallion ran from this? Hell, that would have been a sight to see.

Onyx shrugged with a smirk. “Welp, better get on it…”

He wet his lips and stepped closer to the gate.

“Oi!”

The dog jerked and looked over at him.

“Ye better think twice ‘fore ye go around scarin’ little fillies, ye hear?!” Onyx snorted and pawed at the dirt. “I’ll give yer hide a good tannin’ if my ears catch wind of yer shenanigans!”

The dog got up and trotted over, a studded collar jingling with each step. He seemed to be in good shape; his owner looked after him well despite her absence.

Onyx was perhaps having a bit too much fun with this. He kept shouting: “Tough boy, ain’t ye? Think ye can come over and wrangle with this here farmpony, eh? Ye got-”

The dog stared at him.

Onyx’s throat seized up. He felt cold claws caress his neck.

The dog stared at him.

Slowly, with cold sweat running down his neck, Onyx backed away from the gate.

The dog stared at him.

Onyx retreated until the dog’s eyes were no longer on him, then he turned and sprinted back to the Gold Tooth residence.

Jade was waiting for him. “Mister? What’s-”

“Little miss, why are his eyes like that?” Onyx’s teeth clacked against one another. He felt sick. “Why does he look like he knows…!”

Jade blinked, alarmed. “Wh-what? Knows what?”

“He just…” Onyx struggled to get the words out. “He just knows! He knows what I’m trying to do, he knows what I’m saying, he just- he knows in a way that dogs shouldn’t know!”

“Mister-”

“I-I gotta get goin’.”

“W-wait! Mister, w-wait, please! Don’t leave me!”

Onyx didn’t go into town that day. He hooked back up to his wagon and went back to his farm without turning back to the girl’s cries.

Some distance later, he swore he could hear barking on the wind.





Two days later, Onyx found himself on the dirt path approaching the Gold Tooth manor, sans wagon. He wasn’t coming to town for business; he wasn’t coming to town in general.

No, he had to make amends for what he did.

Since he ran with his tail between his legs, Onyx had been wracked with guilt; it manifested as a jagged lump in his belly and gnawed at the back of his head, persistent no matter how hard he threw himself into his chores.

Hell, he’d finished fixing his barn because he was so dang antsy. He’d planned to put it off until the weather got warmer.

But no matter what he did, his mind drifted back to Jade and her pleas.

And that dog – the dog that knew too much.

Even now, he couldn’t forget the intelligence in that beast’s eyes, nor could he explain just what it was that made his skin crawl.

The dog knew, that was the best Onyx could do.

Onyx shook his head as the iron gate loomed closer. Today, he would own his cowardice and try to make up for it. It was only right that Jade had somepony around she could rely on, especially since she had to put up with that beast’s unnatural gaze and constant barking by herself.

Onyx arrived to see Jade staring at him through the bars.

Her eyes were dark and miserable.

“Hey, mister…”

“I…” Onyx spent all morning rehearsing his apology, but one look at the filly’s face was enough to make him forget. He could only fumble in silence before hanging his head. “I’m sorry, little miss.”

“It’s okay.”

As silence stretched between them, Onyx looked ahead to the Copper Ear residence. He knew the dog was there, but at least he couldn’t feel those haunting eyes boring into the back of his skull.

But it was so quiet now.

Onyx turned to Jade. “Little miss, I… I ain’t too sure what’s going on with that dog, but I couldn’t leave ye alone. But I’m ashamed to say that I don’t have much of a solution for yer problem.”

“Please kill it.”

Onyx inhaled sharply.

“I-I know I shouldn’t be asking. I know it’s wrong,” Jade’s eyes glistened with stored tears. “But he keeps barking. He barks and barks and he won’t stop!”

There was a hitch in her breathing as she gripped the bars of the gate with all her might.

“Sometimes… s-sometimes it doesn’t even sound like he’s barking. He’s a monster. Please, mister, you have to help me.”

Onyx swallowed, his throat dry. His mind was frayed. “Little miss-”

Then, the most ferocious snarling drew his attention.

Onyx turned and saw a stallion in a fancy blue shirt further down the road staring in shock at the gate to Copper Ear’s manor.

He could hear claws scrabbling at the bars and see a flash of a muzzle filled with sharp teeth poking through the gaps.

The stallion’s shock turned to anger, and he spat a curse before going on his way, only to stop again when he noticed Onyx. His eyes hardened. “Who in blazes are you?”

Onyx tipped his hat with a trembling hoof. “Mornin’. My name’s Onyx – I own the farm just down this here road,” He paused, distracted as the dog’s actions ceased. “Was just making small talk with this little miss.”

The stallion stared.

“Is that you, brother?” Jade called out.

Jade’s ‘brother’ snorted. “Yes, an astute observation. My name is Amber,” He walked forward, looking at Onyx with disdain. “Sorry but I have business to attend to. Excuse me.”

Onyx took a step back as Amber undid the latch on the gate. “So, listen, sir, yer kin’s got herself a little problem-”

Amber laughed, mirthless and cold. “Oh, she does, hm? Is it about that mongrel, perhaps?”

“W-well-”

“He was growling at you just now, wasn’t he?” Jade hopped up and down as Amber slipped inside, then hurriedly turned to close the gate again. “Why won’t you believe me?”

Amber rolled his eyes and looked at Onyx through the bars. “Pay her no mind. That mongrel scares her apparently.”

Onyx frowned. “Ye see, I went over there and-”

“Forgive me, but I’m more concerned with my family’s wealth than the irrational fears of a filly,” Amber paused, then with as much venom as he could summon, spat, “Or the problems of some hick.”

And with that, he stormed off to the manor.

Onyx watched him go with indignation. “Why that no-good, son of a…!” He caught himself and glanced at Jade apologetically. “A lovely, intelligent mare, I’m sure.”

Jade shook her head. “He’s a big doo-doo head.”

“I’m inclined to agree, little miss.”

“All he cares about is money,” She kicked the ground in frustration. “And his inheri… his, um… inheresy?”

Onyx paused to think. “Inheritance?”

“Yeah, that word,” Jade sighed. “I don’t really get it, but he was supposed to get a lot of money from mom and dad, but then I was born, so now we have to share it. Now he goes to that friend of his in town to talk about it and sometimes I hear him muttering in his room. I can’t hear him clearly, but he sounds upset.”

“But ain’t that fair? Seems like yer folks are swimmin’ in bits.”

“But he wants all of it,” Jade turned her head to the side. “I don’t care. He can have it if he wants. I’d be happy if that dog would just…”

Onyx didn’t know what to say, so he said nothing.

An uncomfortable period of time passed before Jade spoke. “It’s okay, mister. You don’t have to do anything. Just forget about it,” She turned and trudged to the manor. “Thanks for stopping by.”

Onyx wanted to stop her. He wanted to say he’d do it.

But he kept his mouth shut and watched her helplessly.

And when the door to the manor swung shut, a sudden rage overtook him, and he stomped over to the Copper Ear residence.

The dog stared at him.

“Yer a mangy mutt, ye know that?” Onyx hissed in a low tone. He had to stay angry to look into those brown, unnatural eyes. “That poor girl has enough on her plate without ye adding to it. Ye feel good tormentin’ an innocent filly?”

The dog stared at him.

“Choke on a bone, ye mongrel.” Onyx spat on the dirt and turned away.

The dog barked.

It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t sharp. It wasn’t threatening.

It was a low ‘woof’ to get his attention.

And it kept making that noise as Onyx turned.

The dog barked and barked, staring at him with a crushing intensity.

Onyx searched those brown eyes and felt himself trembling at the knowledge that shouldn’t be there. He went to walk back home-

The dog barked jumped on its hind legs and scrabbled at the bars, still going ‘whuf, whuf, whuf.’

Onyx flinched, looked at it, then turned away again.

‘Whuf, whuf, whuf, whuf.’

The dog whimpered.

Onyx gasped and stared in shock.

That wasn’t a whimper he’d ever heard a dog make before. It sounded tortured, desperate.

The dog gave that strained whine again, barked, then convulsed like it was about to spew.

More barking.

More whining.

More convulsing.

Onyx trembled at the desperation in the beast’s eyes. “Wh-what do you want from me?”

‘Whuf, whu…’

Whimper.

‘Glk… guk!’

The dog went on all fours, convulsed, and hacked up droplets of blood. Then, he went back on his hind legs and clawed at the bars.

‘Whurf! Whug! Urt!’

Onyx’s eyes widened.

‘Whurt! W-waaaiiit…’

Onyx turned to run back home and found that he had already left Gold Tooth manor far behind him.

He ran.

He ran.

He ran.

Then, he stopped.

He turned and ran back. His hat flew off his head.

Onyx did not know why he was doing this. Perhaps because he already ran once and couldn’t bear the thought of doing it again. He did not know, but his mind was made up.

Gold Tooth manor loomed into view.

He could hear the dog. It was whining, crying – screaming.

“He’s going to kill you! You have to get out! Amber is going to kill you!”

Onyx did not pause to give thought to what he was hearing. He simply acted.

He climbed over the wall and ran to the manor.

He slammed into the doors.

Locked.

He doubled back and ran into them again, breaking them off their hinges.

“He’ll kill her! He’ll kill her!”

“Jade!” Onyx’s wild eyes bounced across the entrance hall, all the many stairs and doors. “Jade!”

“He’s going to kill her! He’ll kill her!”

Onyx picked a direction and ran.

Through the hallways, through the rooms.

“He’ll kill her!”

Onyx barged through a door.

He saw Amber atop Jade. His hooves were on her neck. There was a burlap sack to the side.

Jade’s face was pale.

Onyx acted.

Amber’s feral features morphed into shock before Onyx slammed his hoof into him so hard that Amber flew across the room and banged his head against the corner of a desk.

He didn’t move.

Onyx, panting and soaked with sweat, gently cradled Jade. “It’s okay, little miss – you’re safe now. I’ll get you to town. You’ll be right,” He moved Jade onto his back and walked out of the room. “You’ll be right, little miss.”

Out the manor.

Out the gate.

Onyx passed Copper Ear residence and looked inside.

He saw the dog slumped against the wall facing Jade’s home, still as Amber had been. There was blood dripping from the matted red fur on his mouth and his eyes were dull and lifeless.





Twilight watched as Fluttershy got up, went over to the vanity, and blew out a candle – the first of 16.

“Wow, that was a chilling story. I’m surprised, honestly.”

“Oh, th-thank you.” Fluttershy smiled bashfully and trotted back to their group and laid down on her sleeping bag.

Rainbow Dash nodded and grabbed a hoof’s worth of popcorn. “Your scary stories have improved, like, 120%,” She paused to scarf her score down. “But I don’t know… it seems more sad than scary.”

“I thought it was perfect,” Rarity said. “Alas, I do wish that poor dog had survived.”

Twilight’s ears twitched as she heard the wind howling outside the Crystal Castle’s windows. It was supposed to rain later, too, which only meant prime conditions for this sleepover activity.

Luna had suggested it to her when she mentioned having a sleepover with her friends: a night spent telling scary stories with each tale being marked by snuffing out a candle placed beside a mirror.

It was called ‘Kaidan’ – a Neighpanese game from a past age.

The materials and conditions were simple to get:

A room with a mirror – Twilight’s new castle had literally dozens, but they chose Rarity’s guest room because it had the largest one.

Candles – Twilight got them at half-price.

Midnight – well, it’d be concerning if they couldn’t get that.

Willing participants – Fluttershy took some convincing, but along with Starlight and Trixie, they had 8 in total. A shame Spike couldn’t come, but he was enjoying a guy’s night out with Discord and Big Mac.

And that was all that was needed to have a creepy yet exhilarating sleepover!

Twilight felt like this sleepover was going to be a 100% success.

“Okay…” Twilight grinned gleefully and searched the faces of her friends. “Who wants to go next?”
> 2nd Candle
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

It started when Filthy Rich heard somepony running upstairs as he sat in his chair by the fireplace, reading the newspaper.

He cocked his head up, frowned.

Silence.

Then, again…

thump thump Thump Thump THUMP THUMP Thump Thump thump thump

From one end to the other.

“Diamond Tiara?” He called, his voice carrying, echoing back at him. “Is that you?”

Silence.

Filthy Rich waited. He waited some more.

Then, with a huff, he returned to his newspaper.

The fireplace crackled warmly.

thump thump Thump Thump

Filthy Rich snorted and put his paper aside. “Ahh, what is that girl up t-”

THUMP THUMP

CRASH

The sound seemed to jolt his heart like it had a direct connection. Filthy Rich blinked, no longer irate, and got out of his chair and jogged to the stairway.

“Diamond Tiara?” His hooves pounded against the steps. His head felt heavy. “Answer me, young lady!”

He arrived at the landing and turned a corner.

There, a vase lay in pieces.

“Diamond Tiara!”

Filthy Rich heard a soft noise behind him and turned to see his daughter emerge from her bedroom. He was momentarily relieved before becoming enraged.

“What is this?”

Diamond Tiara rubbed her eyes. “Hm? What’s what?”

“This!” Filthy Rich turned and gestured to the shards of porcelain on the red carpet. “What were you doing up here?”

“Taking a nap,” Diamond Tiara said, her gaze going from the vase to Filthy Rich, then back again. “I wasn’t doing anything.”

“Then how did the vase break?”

“I… I don’t know.”

Filthy Rich examined her for falsity; she was, unfortunately, a filly to tell fibs, but one who had a lot of tells. Yet he found none of these tells. In fact, it did appear as if she had just woken.

Filthy Rich took a deep breath. “I heard somepony running up here. If it wasn’t you, then…” He winced and trailed off as a sharp pain flashed behind his eyes. “… Never mind. I’m sorry for yelling at you. It, um… it must have been the wind.”

Diamond Tiara still looked confused about the situation, but eventually nodded. “Oh. Okay.”

Lethargically, she headed downstairs. He heard her start coughing a little halfway.

Filthy Rich remained where he was, listening to her hoofsteps. Then, he turned back to the shattered vase. He should probably clean that immediately, but his headache and mood made him want nothing more than to return to his chair.

“Feh. One of the servants will clean it later.”

He went back downstairs.





The next morning, Filthy Rich woke to find the vase’s remains had been swept clean. Strange that he had not seen any of the servants doing it, but he had gone to bed early.

Trotting into the kitchen, he was surprised to see Diamond Tiara already at the table, blinking blearily at an empty bowl of cereal – flakes and droplets of milk still clung to the inside.

That was also strange – he had to normally wake her up for school every time.

“Morning,” Filthy Rich opened the pantry and surveyed the selection of food. “You’re up early.”

Diamond Tiara gave a loud yawn. “I didn’t get much sleep.” Instantly, she began to dry cough.

“Oh?” That was often a prelude to ‘can I stay home?’ “Why is that?”

“Dunno.” Another cough.

Filthy Rich’s stomach grumbled in dissatisfaction at everything on display. Huffing in irritation, he grabbed a banana – better something than nothing. Closing the pantry, he turned around to see Diamond Tiara frowning at her bowl.

He was concerned to see the bags around her eyes, and even though he knew better, he said, “Do you want to stay home for today?”

Diamond Tiara shook her head. “No. I’m tired, but I feel restless. I’ll go crazy if I stay home.”

Filthy Rich’s concern only grew. This wasn’t usual behaviour for-

thump thump thump

Filthy Rich jerked his head up to the ceiling.

“Besides…” Diamond Tiara continued. “Today’s dodgeball, and I have a reputation to keep! I… Daddy, what are you looking at?”

Filthy Rich put his head down. “Did you hear that?”

Diamond Tiara’s ears flicked. “I think those are just birds.”

“… Ah, yes, of course. That’s what it was.”

It wasn’t, but he didn’t want to worry Diamond Tiara over a trivial and perfectly explainable occurrence – one of the servants must have gotten up and was moving about doing their chores. Yes, that was it.

Filthy Rich peeled his banana and wandered off to his study, trying not to show stress under Diamond Tiara’s curious gaze

‘Perhaps I’m coming down with something?’





It was approaching two in the afternoon and Filthy Rich had spent most of the day staring at documents and reading letters inside his study. A pathetic attempt at drawing a chart to analyse business expenses stared at him from his desk.

He knew for a fact that he could have done thrice this work any other day, but his limbs felt heavy and his eyes itchy. He didn’t have a temperature, nor was his throat dry or his lips chapped – the usual tells that came with a cold.

‘Maybe I’m overworked?’

He shoved that thought aside with a scoff.

‘Preposterous. My workload has remained the same for the past decade, barring a few occasions.’

Biting his tongue, Filthy Rich fished out a folder from his drawer and went through it, grumbling as he forced his languid mind to behave.

‘Let’s see here… Costs… Balance… Losses… Hmph. Business is booming – I have nothing to stress over in that regard.’

Sighing, Filthy Rich put the folder away and leaned back in his chair. He closed his eyes and basked in the quiet.

‘I’m just overthinking this, most likely. Maybe I’ll take Diamond on a vacation. Somewhere tropical maybe.’

He swivelled his chair around.

Books were scattered across the floor.

Filthy Rich blinked a few times and looked to the half-empty bookshelf. “What on earth?”

The chair creaked as he got up and trotted over.

It did not take long to pick them all up and once he was done, he left his study and searched the hallway outside it.

“Hello?”

His voice carried all the way to the high ceiling; it bounced off the barren walls. No one replied and nothing stirred. All that was down the end of the hallway was the front door.

Filthy Rich stood there for a bit, then hurried to the front door. For some reason, he felt a niggling sense of dread and standing there made his skin crawl. He had to force himself to keep a calm pace as he went past the stairs and his imagination teased him into thinking someone was watching him from the landing.

Filthy Rich touched the door’s handle-

“What?!” He spun around on instinct. “Who said that?”

His eyes went to the empty landing.

Fear making his fur stand, Filthy Rich fled his home and ran into the safety of Ponyville’s sun-bathed streets.





When he had calmed somewhat, Filthy Rich realized just how foolish he was being.

Running from his home because of the shadows that his own mind breathed life into? How truly foolish. A grown stallion should know better.

Still, he didn’t regret his decision to leave – the outside air and the sun’s rays seemed to energize him, so he at least felt livelier. He decided to go for a stroll until it was time to pick up Diamond Tiara from school.

There were not a lot of ponies around. He saw some new faces among those he passed, some familiar but… off somehow.

Filthy Rich looked over his shoulder as a mint-green unicorn – Lyra, was it? – went by; she was a decade younger than him, but he swore she had new lines near her eyes compared to the last time he saw her.

Walking some more, he noticed Princess Twilight standing outside her castle talking to two other ponies. He stayed a fair distance away, not wanting to intrude, but he could not help but notice their body language appeared tense.

“Strange.”

The marketplace was unusually quiet, too. Filthy Rich walked through without hearing a single raised voice. Eventually, he arrived at the Apple family’s stall. Or, rather where their stall should have been.

“Are both of them sick? That hasn’t happened in almost ten years.”

Filthy Rich had a mind to check in to the farm to see if everything was okay, but then he remembered that he was due to visit on the weekend for his usual supply of freshly-made apples, and decided to leave it until then.

Filthy Rich hummed – it was probably around time to pick up Diamond Tiara.





The final bell had long since rung when Diamond Tiara finally emerged from the schoolhouse, already cracking a huge yawn and half-dragging her feet through the dirt. Filthy Rich waved to get her attention, and she shambled over after blinking in surprise.

“Daddy? Why are you here?”

He most certainly wasn’t going to admit he had been chased out of their home by imaginary ghosts.

“It’s a nice day, isn’t it? I thought I’d go for a walk.”

Diamond Tiara seemed too tired to question it. “Oh, okay,” She coughed. “Mm, do I have to do anything when I get home? I wanna sleep.”

“No, you can sleep as much as you’d like.”

Some of the foals were still hanging around. It took him a moment to realize just how many new faces there were. He hadn’t heard of too many births lately, so that was-

“Can we go now?” Diamond Tiara tugged on his coat. “I don’t want to talk to anypony right now.”

“Oh, of course. Let’s go.”





His own house felt eerie and unfamiliar; he felt like a stranger in here – his own study was like a prison.

Diamond Tiara seemed to regain some life once she was back home. After a ten-minute nap, she was trotting up and down the corridors, humming a gentle tune to herself and playing with her toys.

Faust, he couldn’t remember the last time she’d done that.

But he couldn’t relax: every dark corner seemed to house a shadowy figure, every time he went past the stairs he could feel the eyes of an invisible watcher on him – it got to the point where he would actively seek Diamond Tiara’s company just to calm his frayed nerves.

A grown stallion relying on his daughter for support – he was ashamed.

As night rolled in, the shadows seemed to grow longer and darker. Filthy Rich sat himself in his favourite chair in front of the fireplace and stared into empty space while Diamond Tiara coloured in a musty book.

“Where did you get that?”

“Hm? This? It was in my room,” Diamond Tiara frowned as she picked up a green crayon. “I don’t remember buying it, but a lot of these pictures are really good. Especially when I colour them.”

Filthy Rich’s lips twitched. “I see.”

The front door opened.

Filthy Rich stiffened. There was no way he had imagined that.

Diamond Tiara didn’t even turn her head.

He took a deep breath and got out of his chair. “I’ll be back, sweetie.”

“Hm? Oh, okay.”

Filthy Rich walked to the doorway and cautiously poked his head out-

Three.

He pulled back with a soft gasp, chills running throughout his body.

Three figures by the front door. They were pony-shaped, that much he was able to glean from a brief glance.

Faust, why was some part of him hoping they were burglars?

Filthy Rich reached for the closest weapon – a hard wood coat rack – and carefully peeked around the door’s frame again.

Three figures.

Standing there.

… Talking?

They were moving their heads and limbs like they were having a conversation, but he couldn’t hear any words – just a low, eerie whistle of wind flowing through the corridors.

“Excuse me.”

His call went unnoticed.

“Daddy?” Diamond Tiara appeared from behind the chair. “What’s wrong?”

“Just… stay there, sweetie,” He failed to give a reassuring smile before stepping out in full view of the intruders. He made sure they could see he was holding the coat rack. “Excuse me – what business do you have here?”

One of the shadowy figures moved away from the group, and Filthy Rich saw the long spike of a horn and two bulbous shapes stretching out from their back.

“Prin… cess?”

Twilight(?) gave no answer and walked to the stairs and ascended to the upper floor, closely followed by the other two.

Filthy Rich waited, listening as they moved above him.

thump thump thump thump

They went into his bedroom.

Then, fell silent.

Against his instincts, Filthy Rich followed – he had an inexplicable feeling that there was something he needed to see.

Up the stairs. His head felt heavy.

To his bedroom. He felt sick.

Inside.

“Has he noticed anything else strange?” Princess Twilight asked the mare and stallion standing closely together. “Anything you can recall?”

The stallion shook his head. “No, he just keeps mentioning the little filly.”

Filthy Rich blinked in confusion and put down the coat rack. “Princess, what…? What is the meaning of this?”

Twilight turned away and walked to the side of his bed, turning her head this way and that.

Filthy Rich went closer and examined the stallion and mare; they didn’t seem to acknowledge his presence.

“Didn’t I see you talking to the princess earlier?”

The stallion nuzzled the mare’s mane supportively – it looked like neither had gotten much sleep.

“Excuse me.”

“Mr. and Mrs. Topaz…” Twilight turned back around. “I’m sure this is frightening for you, but do you think you may have done something to cause all of this to happen so suddenly?”

Mrs. Topaz sighed. “I’ve been doing some cleaning since Itsy is getting his growth spurt. Finally. I’ve moved a few things around…” Her eyes couldn’t focus on one thing; she looked ready to bolt. “But nothing important. I think.”

Twilight hummed. “I see.”

“Princess, I apologize, but I would appreciate an explanation as to why you are inside my house.” Filthy Rich did not want to disrespect royalty, but there were things a stallion simply should not tolerate.

Mr. Topaz looked at him.

Filthy Rich flinched and took a step back.

“… Sometimes I hear somepony moving around in the study room,” He said, looking through Filthy Rich. “Nopony’s there when I check, of course.”

“That was where he spent the most time according to the Apple family,” Twilight said. “It’s not a stretch to assume he would be drawn there.”

“Who are you talking about?” Filthy Rich felt a gnawing dread encroaching on his heart and turned that fear into anger. “Listen to me, for the love of Faust!”

“And Itsy’s bedroom used to be the filly’s right?” Mrs. Topaz shook her head. “Poor girl.”

Twilight closed her eyes and sighed. “It sounds terrible but thank goodness it was the smoke that killed her, not the fire.”

Filthy Rich’s world started to spin. His body was submerged in ice-cold water, head to hoof.

“Wh-what did you just say?”

“Itsy says he hears her coughing at times.” Mr. Topaz added.

“Coughing…”

“Sometimes we find kitchenware put out on the table. This morning, I found a banana on the counter – it was peeled but untouched.”

Twilight started to pace the room, but Filthy Rich didn’t pay her mind – he reeled back, his legs shaking.

His head felt heavy.

He felt sick.

He felt… hot.

“Maybe we shouldn’t have bought this house,” Mrs. Topaz sounded as if she were down a well. “It looks nice after the repairs, but maybe it was disrespectful.”

“I didn’t believe in ghosts,” Mr. Topaz defended. “Who wouldn’t want a house like this?”

Hot, hot, hot – Faust, it was so hot. Filthy Rich swiped his sweat-slickened brow and stumbled over to the bed, squeezing his eyes shut as the floor lurched beneath his feet.

What were they talking about? Smoke inhalation? Diamond Tiara… dead? No, it couldn’t have been true.

“Pl… please speak to me…” Filthy Rich whimpered. “I’m right here.”

“This isn’t really my forte,” Twilight’s voice echoed ominously. “I’m scanning for pockets of ambient magic, but nothing’s out of the ordinary. Then again, I’m only going off the information I learned from books by supposed mediums, so who knows if I’m-”

“DAMN IT, TALK TO ME!!”

Filthy Rich’s bed shook and slid several inches forward.

Twilight and the Topazes did not look at him; their wide, startled eyes were focused on the bed.

Twilight sucked in a shallow breath. “So… what do you want to do?”

“We’re moving,” Mrs. Topaz nodded vigorously and grabbed her husband’s foreleg. “We’re moving, aren’t we?”

“Dear…”

“I mean, we can’t honestly stay here when-”

“Dear, let’s just… sleep on it for one more night. Princess Twilight, do you mind?”

Twilight nodded. “Take as long as you need. I’ll send a letter to Luna; maybe she’ll be better help than me.”

Their hushed tones followed them out of the room. Filthy Rich was left alone.

“I’m…? Diamond Tiara is…? Oh Faust…”

Slowly, he sank to the floor. Warmth streamed through the fur on his cheeks and fell to the carpet in drops and to his despair, they did not soak into the material.

“But the servants were…”

No, they were never there. Thinking back, he had not seen a single soul in this house, but his mind did not focus on that abnormality. And he didn’t pay heed to the way everypony he passed on his walk did not even glance in his direction.

He remembered thinking how odd it was to see so many new faces and how the ones he knew seemed to look weathered.

“How long have we been…?”

“Daddy?”

Filthy Rich jolted and looked over his shoulder as his daughter – his beautiful daughter – trotted in with a concerned grimace.

“What’s wrong?”

“Diamond Tiara… do you remember anything bad happening lately?”

“Bad?” Diamond Tiara’s lips pursed. “Not really. Everyone at school’s been really quiet and not talking to me, but considering the way I treated them and the CMC…” She trailed off. “Huh, I haven’t seen much of them, come to think of it.”

“I-I see,” Filthy Rich wiped his face and stood, barely keeping his fragile composure together. “… Let’s go back downstairs.”





What was the appropriate reaction to learning you were dead?

Denial, at first, but Filthy Rich was a smart and logical stallion, so that went away after the hundredth time he was ignored on the street despite shouting at the top of his lungs.

Diamond Tiara could not, or perhaps would not, acknowledge what had happened to her. She carried out the same routine with minor deviations – wake up, go to school, come back home, play, sleep, do it over again. Her cough stayed with her throughout, a chilling remnant of the last she had done while alive.

Filthy Rich’s mind was not so fractured, but even he had moments where he would be missing hours of his day, and he would sometimes forget he was dead and got a nasty shock when he walked through another pony.

Ponies that he knew. Ponies that were getting older with each passing day.

The Topazes moved out long ago, and Filthy Rich had no idea how much time had passed since then.

Princess Twilight came by now and again, sometimes with Luna or Celestia; they had used many spells and rituals – some which caused him intense pain – but still he and his daughter’s souls remained anchored to the dilapidated house.

Would they stay like this forever? Filthy Rich wondered that often as he laid in his musty bed and listened to the almost organic creak of the floorboards and his daughter’s persistent cough.

Such a miserable fate – he was thankful Diamond Tiara did not understand their situation.

But whatever future they had – if any – he could take solace and keep his sanity intact with the knowledge that at least he wasn’t alone.

He would stay by Diamond Tiara’s side for however long they had in the mortal plane.








“Okay, that one was definitely more sad than scary,” Rainbow Dash held her hooves up defensively as Rarity glared. “Hey, I’m not saying it was bad; it was decent, right, AJ?”

Applejack nodded. “Fer some reason, ah imagined Filthy Rich an’ his filly in those character’s places. Made it hit all th’ more harder.”

“What about Filthy Rich’s wife?”

Applejack shrugged. “Meh.”

Rarity rolled her eyes. “Such flattery. I simply need more time to ‘get with it,’ as the children say.”

As Rarity went to blow out another candle, Twilight realized something was off.

“The proportions of the snacks aren’t what they should be,” She pointed to the bowls of assorted goodies they had encircled with their sleeping bags. “Trixie…”

A muffled ‘mwuh?’ came from between Fluttershy and Starlight.

“Don’t just eat all the red liquorice; you should have some of the black type, too.”

Trixie’s eyes widened and she almost choked. “Y-you expect the Great and Powerful Trixie to eat such poison? The real horror is that you had the audacity to mix them together!”

Starlight shrugged. “She’s got a point there.”

“But if one pony eats more of a snack type than everypony won’t get an equal share!” Twilight protested as she produced a list from within her sleeping bag. “I have it all recorded here.”

“Are you going to read us your lists when it’s your turn?” Rainbow Dash quipped.

A chorus of poorly stifled giggles made Twilight blush.

“Okay then, why don’t you tell a story next?”

Rainbow Dash grinned devilishly. “Hope nopony wore socks ‘cause I’m about to scare them off.”
> 3rd Candle
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

In hindsight, running upstairs was the stupidest move she could have made. She should have immediately run out of the house.

Perhaps it was a remnant of Moondancer’s childhood when the shadows in her room would darken and twist into nightmarish amalgamations, and she would pull the covers over her head and believe it was an impenetrable haven.

She knew, now, that was foolish – even if the creatures that lurked under her bed and in the corners of her room were real, a thin layer of sheet would do nothing to dissuade the wicked claws and jagged teeth she imagined them with. At the time though, it was a clever tactic – her ‘ultimate technique’.

She knew better now… and she wished she didn’t.

Moondancer’s breaths came short in the stuffy darkness she confined herself in. Her heart hammered against her ribs as if seeking escape. Her fur was slick and mussy with sweat.

Being under these thick covers was torture.

But-

Moondancer choked back a whimper as a harsh, shattering sound filtered up from downstairs.

She waited in agonizing suspense for another crash, but the only sound she could hear, if she strained her hearing, was a steady shhff, shhff of something dragging itself on the floor.

Looking.

Searching.

‘I’m so stupid! I’m so stupid!’

Moondancer was a curious pony, a scientific pony, so naturally she couldn’t help but scoff at the flowery prose of an old scripture she found in her family’s attic. Looking between the religious doctrines and so-called ‘heathenry’, Moondancer recognized the structure of an old spell, one that was unlike any she had ever seen.

It took weeks to decipher and complete since the scripture had eschewed much of its arcane matrix in lieu of ominous warnings and there was no way Moondancer would seek outside assistance and let them share the credit. When it was done, she followed the steps and cast the spell in front of a mirror at the stroke of midnight.

For a while, nothing had happened and Moondancer snorted in contempt for her god-fearing ancestors before going to research something else.

Then, as night rolled in and Moondancer went by the body-length mirror, she got the shock of her life.

When she calmed down and confirmed there was no one standing behind her, Moondancer got to work recording the movements of the mare that only seemed to exist within the mirror.

Communication failed in all forms, so Moondancer could only make write what she saw:

The mare was dressed in an old smock that had been carefully patched numerous times. She was a unicorn, but her horn was cracked. Her dull grey eyes seemed to stare through Moondancer.

Every so often, she would turn and look at something to the side and make a worried grimace.

Moondancer recorded feverishly.

Until two days later, the mare suddenly made a horrible expression of pain and silently screamed as she clutched at her chest. Moondancer could only watch in shock as the light in the mare’s eyes faded and she collapsed to the ground.

Moondancer examined the spot in the real world where the mare was lying, but the only thing she could confirm with her instruments was that the spot was slightly colder than the air around it. Frustrated, she threw a sheet over it and went to study something else.

The next night, she went into the room.

The sheet was gone, and the mare was halfway out of the mirror.

Moondancer didn’t think or try to hypothesize; she turned and ran upstairs, her terrified mind regressing to that of a filly seeking comfort in a familiar place.

What a fool she was.

That… thing was going through the ground floor of her home in search of her; she had no idea what it would do if it found her, but that thing’s gaping maw, twisted limbs, and bloodshot eyes made her shudder if she even dared to imagine.

No. Don’t imagine.

Stop being afraid and do something.

Moondancer swallowed thickly and carefully lowered the sheets. Nothing came screaming out of the darkness at her. She lowered them some more and slowly climbed out of bed, her limbs trembling as she tried to make as little noise as possible.

When all four hooves touched carpet, Moondancer stayed there.

Five seconds.

Ten.

Fifteen.

Her door stayed closed.

Moondancer sucked in air through her teeth and crept over to her window. If she could get outside, then it’d be fine, right?

She grabbed the latch.

“…!”

She pulled harder.

Tchak

Tchak

Tchak-tchak-tchak-tchak

Moondancer whimpered in her throat. ‘It’s stuck?’ She grit her teeth and put all her weight into the action, but the tiny latch inexplicably defied her and the laws of physics. ‘It was working just this morning!’

Well, her magic could just-

“…!”

Moondancer’s world started to spin as she sank to her belly and prodded her horn. Was this a side-effect of the spell? Was she simply trapped here until that thing found her, or she died from dehydration?

‘No, I don’t want to die! I can’t die because of a spell that I cast!’

With that thought came a surge of defiance; it spread through her limbs like fire and gave her the strength to stand and wipe her tears.

“I c-can’t die. I-I won’t.”

Okay, think:

Her magic was gone, and she couldn’t open a window. The next logical step would be to break the glass… but if that didn’t work, then the noise would just attract the monster.

She could try the door, but if it was anything like the window, then she’d be wasting her time.

Finally, no magic meant she couldn’t defend herself against the monster.

The only option left for her was to… destroy the mirror.

Maybe that, too, was an impossible task, but it was the only one she had.

Moondancer nodded to herself. “I have to try.”

She turned around and shuffled to the door. Placing her ear against it, she listened for the slightest noise.

Shff shff shff

It was pulling itself against the ground, but it seemed to still be on the lower floor. If she was quick and smart, perhaps she could hide, bait it into an empty room, close it to buy time, and run to destroy the mirror – hopefully.

Moondancer took a deep breath and inched the door open as fast as she dared. And thank Faust, her notoriously squeaky hinges chose the right night to behave.

Being out in the hallway made her feel vulnerable; she wanted nothing more than to retreat to her room, but she resisted her base instincts and pushed on, even when each step felt like pushing through concrete mix.

Moondancer did a double-take on a painting hanging from the wall and carefully took it down, clutching it under one leg.

‘Almost there…’

She could see the stairway’s landing ahead of her. Any second, she expected to see a ghastly face pop up and come screeching at her.

Moondancer licked her dry lips as she stopped by the guest room and pushed the door open before scooting back into an alcove for holding spare towels. It took some effort, but she managed to fit herself in and use the towels as cover; she was almost certain she was completely hidden.

Now… now came the hard part.

Moondancer knew no amount of stalling would calm her nerves, so she spat in the face of caution and banged the wall with the painting’s frame.

Nothing.

Her heart lurched as she banged it a second time.

Nothing-

-but then shhff shhff shhff coming to the stairs at an alarming pace.

Moondancer swallowed a shriek, flung the painting into the guest room, and squeezed into the alcove with such intensity that it hurt.

Shhff-thump shhff-thump shhff-thump, as it came up the stairs.

Moondancer squeezed her eyes shut and covered her mouth.

Shhhfff

Thump

It was right in front of her, and it was so quiet now, not even a trace of breathing.

She sat and waited for the moment the towels would be ripped away from her.

But shhff shhff as it crawled into the guest room.

‘Yes, yes, thank you, Mother Faust!’

Moondancer shakily pushed the towel in front of her to the side. She could see it; the thing’s back was to her as it dragged itself forward, broken hind legs trailing behind it like a malformed tail. A cobweb of a mane spread over her back, black as ink.

Seeing it froze Moondancer for a second until her body surged with energy and provoked her into action. She crept out of the alcove and reached for the guest room’s door handle.

She touched it.

And the thing’s head rotated with a wet snap and locked its empty, bloodshot eyes on her.

Moondancer slammed the door shut so hard it shook the walls and barrelled down the stairs.

A mighty CRACK startled her so much she lost her footing and tumbled down the steps, every edge sending pain shooting through her body. She hit the landing and slammed against the wall.

Disoriented, Moondancer struggled to stand and glanced to the top of the stairs.

The monster from the mirror pulled itself into view and croaked wetly before tumbling down in much the same way she did.

Moondancer screamed and bolted.

The room with the mirror was fortunately not far; she grabbed the frame and swung herself in, closed the door, and put the lock into place after her nerve-wracked hooves fumbled a few times.

CRACK

Moondancer fell back with a bleat of terror, but despite the ferocity of the blow, the door held strong.

Still, the thing continued to beat against the door and yank on the handle.

Moondancer ignored it and turned around, her wide eyes narrowing. “You…”

Her reflection glared back.

Moondancer snarled and searched the room. She grabbed a nearby wooden stool and hefted it over, rage giving her more than enough strength.

“Enough of this.”

She reared on her hind legs and brought the stool down-

-only to watch in mounting horror as it bounced off the mirror’s stainless surface.

She picked it up and threw it harder.

It bounced off again.

Moondancer refused to believe what was happening in front of her eyes and tore the room apart using everything she could physically lift to try and smash the mirror. The whole time, the thing’s banging grew more furious and she could hear wood beginning to splinter, driving her terror to greater heights.

Finally, exhausted and unable to deny reality anymore, Moondancer collapsed in front of the mirror and hanged her head, letting the tears she held back fall silently to the floor.

“Fine… You win.”

Another crack brought her attention to the door. She could see hooves ripping a hole in the lower half of the door – she couldn’t even imagine the strength required to do that, nor did she want to imagine what that strength could do to a normal pony.

The monster croaked and pulled a section of the door away and pushed halfway through. It stopped for a moment just to stare at her.

Moondancer swallowed and glanced at the mirror.

She’d resigned herself to her fate… but a defiant light flared within her.

The monstrous mare pushed itself through the hole it made and scuttled wildly at a terrifying pace. Its jaw unhinged and that could have been demented joy etched into its face.

Moondancer’s body reacted at the last second:

She dove to the side, watched as the monster charged straight into the mirror and made the surface ripple like water, lunged for the stool, and heaved it with all her might.

The mare’s gaping face leered at her through the other side and reflected on the many shards that pinwheeled through the air and bouncing against the floor.

The shards shuddered and trembled as the monstrous mare’s dozens of images pounded on their cages.

Then, one by one, the shards blackened like they were stained with ink until they reflected nothing at all.

Moondancer felt a weight lift off her head and ignited her horn with an ecstatic shriek.

“Ha… ha ha ha! Yes! I beat her!” Moondancer laughed in hysterical joy as the tears continued to flow.

She had survived, but just barely. If she had not been so dismissive of her ancestor’s warnings, then this would have never happened in the first place.

But…

At least through this experience, Moondancer could ensure it would never happen again.








“A happy ending? That’s something I did not expect from you.”

“I’m full of surprises, Rares,” Rainbow Dash gave a suave grin. “Honestly, I think horror stories that end badly are kind of lame.”

“But isn’t that kinda the point of a spooky, scary story?” Pinkie Pie questioned. She had rolled herself up in her bed at some point and resembled a pink chrysalis. “It’s about facing something that you can’t get away from no matter how hard you try, so of course all stories end up that way.”

“It doesn’t have to end up like that all the time,” Rainbow Dash argued. “If I’m going into a story knowing the characters are gonna die, then it’s hard for me to care about them. But if I’m not sure how it’s gonna turn out, then I start getting invested. To me, horror is about facing a situation that’s totally unfamiliar and not knowing how things will play out.”

Twilight listened in wonder. She had no idea Rainbow Dash thought that way about the ‘horror genre’ and assumed she was just a mare that got kicks out of sharp-toothed monsters chomping on hapless ponies and showering gore on the screen.

‘I learn something new about my friends even after all these years…’

Pinkie screwed her face up and hummed as she rolled free from her cocoon and became a wingless butterfly. “I guess I get it, but I still think it’s scarier when it’s something you absolutely can’t escape from.”

Rainbow Dash shrugged and got up to blow out a candle. “To each their own, or however that saying goes.”

“Personally…” Rarity began. “I believe the deepest form of horror takes that of psychological torment; it’s about coming to terms with the idea that your world is no longer what it once was and you are ripped suddenly from your comfort zone and forced to confront it.”

Starlight nodded. “I think that way, too.”

“Well, you have your chance to prove it…” Twilight grinned. “Tell us your tale.”
> 4th Candle
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Flim believed he was going mad when his hat began talking to him.

It came out of the blue, really. He was up late one night putting the finishing touches on his brother’s most recent get-rich-quick scheme when he heard his name being called from, oddly, above. Naturally, he turned his gaze to the starry sky in search of this addressor, only for the same voice to squeak in alarm and cry that it was going to fall of his gel-laden mane.

Swiftly, he rescued his hat and apologized for the scare.

Then, upon realizing what he just said, he jumped straight up and removed his hat at once, cautiously asking for it to speak again.

It did – said ‘his’ name was Bowler.

Flim asked if he meant the hat before shaking his head and asking a more appropriate question:

Are you alive?

Bow- Flim’s hat seemed taken aback and answered with its own query:

Should I not be?

That was perhaps too philosophical for Flim’s business-oriented mind, so he ignored it and ran to wake his brother.

Flam, huffing and not at all pleased at being stirred, half-listened to Flim’s tale, and when the hat deigned to speak and prove Flim’s point, he snapped that they had a big day tomorrow and turned over in his bed. The matter was put to rest.

Flim retreated to his own bed, scornful at the hat’s silence.





The hat spoke again when he and Flam stopped by a town to resupply and went their separate ways.

It apologized out of the blue, startling Flim so bad he almost dropped a bag of groceries. Flim was still steamed from last night and threatened to have the hat dipped in starch, even as he acknowledged how bizarre his situation was.

Bowl- dammit, his hat argued how rude it thought Flam was for not believing him. Admittedly, it added with a bashful tone, it was rather happy he didn’t because it didn’t feel comfortable talking to anyone but the pony whose head it rested on.

That was one of the strangest compliments Flim had received. Not the strangest, which was probably something of a red flag.

Flim huffed and ignored his hat because… well, what was one supposed to do when their clothing started speaking with you and only when there was no one else around in earshot? His mind was still coming to terms with it.

Not that his hat seemed to care – he kept- it kept talking to him, gushing on endlessly about the world it somehow saw without eyes. It didn’t delve too much into its origins; it was adamant that it simple ‘woke’ recently and gave no hints as to what might have been the cause.

It said it was glad to be with him; he seemed interesting.

Flim snorted in amusement. This devil was trying to butter him up? Please – he had done that so many times with mares that he could smell such a technique a mile off.

Flim met up with his brother, whom was excited about testing his new scheme on fresh, hapless townsfolk. As they went about getting ready, Flim found himself alone, and his hat asked what the scheme was about. Without really thinking, Flim explained.

The hat said it was a brilliant idea; his brother was so smart.

Flim flushed and said it was a joint effort.

The hat praised him as well.

Flim liked the tone of sincerity, so much that he jokingly said that actually the scheme was all his idea and Flam just took credit.

The hat didn’t praise him – it sounded genuinely distraught as it asked if it was true.

Flim stumbled. He was caught off-guard, but he didn’t want to look like an idiot, so he went along with the fib.

The hat said that wasn’t right, but it respected him for letting his brother share in the victory.

Guilt toiled in Flim’s gut as he murmured something that sounded like an agreement and changed the subject.





The scheme was a failure.

Regrettable but nothing they wouldn’t bounce back from – they made enough money to last them for a month and that was better than their last fiasco in Ponyville.

Flam took this one especially hard, though; he was so sure it would work and seeing it go up in smoke took a lot out of him. He bid good night and turned in early.

Bowler… You know what? Fine – let the hat have his punny name.

Bowler said he didn’t see why Flam was so upset since Flim came up with the idea.

Flim grimaced and replied that they did things as a team: when one failed, they both did and where one succeeded, they both did.

Bowler didn’t see it that way – if Flam wanted recognition, then he should earn it himself.

Flim flicked Bowler’s rim and told him to stuff a sock in it; he wouldn’t have his brother’s character insulted.

Bowler grumbled and stayed quiet from then on.

But… if Flim was honest with himself, he could partially appreciate what Bowler was saying. Since they were children, they had to share everything and that hadn’t changed when they got older; hell, they even shared sentences! Flim didn’t mind it too much – he loved his brother – but he sometimes wondered how life would be if it was just him.

Pah – what was he thinking? A life without his brother would be so dreadfully dull.





Bowler remained Flim’s little secret – he still had no clue as to why the hat had gained sentience, but he didn’t dwell on it. It was a shame Bowler refused to speak aloud since he was sure they would make a good deal of money on that shtick.

As days passed, Flim gradually developed a quiet acceptance of Bowler’s existence; he listened when Bowler spoke, took in his perspective on certain matters – oddly wise for having no brain – and treated him with great care.

Flam thought it was weird but didn’t push the issue.

They had another scheme to work on anyway.





After that disastrous foray, Flim stormed off to a nearby stream and washed the dried sweat from his face, cursing the entire time.

It hadn’t been his fault. Flam should have checked if the screws could withstand that sort of stress before yanking on it so violently. Of course Flim didn’t build the back portion of it so sturdy, not when they could use those materials for the final act – that could have saved the whole show if Flam hadn’t been so gung-ho about everything.

Bowler, for once, didn’t talk. He just listened as Flim ranted and shared his thoughts, and it felt good to do so.

When he was done, Flim felt a weight lift from his shoulders.

Bowler told him it will all work out.





Since then, Flim confided in Bowler when he had the chance – there were just some things he couldn’t talk about with Flam.

Flim spoke of all his ideas, ones that he knew were wonky at best, ones that he knew Flam would poke holes in – rightfully so, admittedly – if he conveyed them aloud. Bowler listened and never once tried to play the part of the realist; he offered nothing but support and praise.

Flim knew criticism was crucial when it came to a business partnership, but since their last scheme went awry, it felt nice to have someone say ‘you’re doing good’ instead of ‘we can do better’.

Flam approached him one night and instead of apologizing for how he acted, he said that Flim’s conversations with that ‘stupid hat’ were getting difficult to ignore. Flim wished Bowler had spoken out in that moment just to prove him wrong, but he had to settle with making a biting remark and stomping away.





In secret, Flim worked on a scheme by himself, but when he unveiled it to Flam, all he received were complaints and an entire list on why it wouldn’t work.

Well, so be it – Flam played no part in crafting it, so he wouldn’t share in the glory. Scoffing, Flim set off for the latest town they had come to, leaving his brother to huff and snort about.





The scheme failed.

Bowler whispered comforting words into his ear as he trudged back home, trembling with rage and humiliation.

This was no failure to be shared: Flam had no part in it, so the consequences were all on Flim. And oh, did he pay. The scheme failed so spectacularly that he had to stay and sort out the mess he made, all the while enduring the dark glares of the vexed townsfolk.

If Flam had been there, then it might have been bearable.

Flim knew he had acted horribly to his brother and that he deserved ridicule, but he hoped that maybe Flam would see all he had gone through and be supportive like Bowler was.

That hope was dashed as soon as he saw Flam’s smug leer.

In that instant, Flim felt a sickening surge of hate coil in his stomach.

Bowler, as always, kept quiet as Flam chewed him out.





The gap between Flim and Flam grew with each passing day; they barely exchanged pleasantries and they had not come together to form a scheme in weeks.

After being fed so much glowing praise from Bowler, Flim found his brother abrasive and condescending. In turn, Flam said he was acting like a petulant foal who was so soft he needed an imaginary friend to kiss his boo-boos.

Flim found himself nurturing a vitriolic hate that festered and grew until it was all he could feel. He knew, in some part of his mind, that this was not healthy and that it would just get worse if he didn’t try to make amends with Flam, but it was difficult: why should he have to take the first step? Why couldn’t Flam?

He echoed these thoughts to Bowler, and Bowler echoed them back.





Flim jolted awake one night, sensing something was amiss.

Bowler was gone.

Leaping from his sleeping bag, he caught sight of a shadow moving in the distance and stormed across where they had made camp. He yelled for them to stop.

Flam turned around with an icy glare, Bowler in his grasp.

They argued.

They screamed.

It seemed that every little slight that had happened between them was now an unforgivable insult – Flim’s voice cracked as he felt as if he had been mistreated and was only now wise to it.

Flam responded in kind, but he brought up Flim’s obsession with Bowler – he called it ‘stupid fucking hat’ – and said that since then, it was like he was a different pony.

And then he threw Bowler on the dirt and started stomping on it.

Flim’s vision went red and he charged forward to knock Flam backwards.

Flam wobbled as his hoof slipped on the grass near an incline in the campsite. His eyes widened in terror as he teetered.

Flim’s insides froze as he reached out.

Just like that, it didn’t matter if Flam never apologized for that one failed scheme; neither did all the little things he did that annoyed Flim matter – Flim would forget all of it if it meant he could be quick enough at that very moment.

Bowler was shouting something, but Flim didn’t hear it as he watched in disbelief as Flam tumbled down the hill and disappeared into some shrubs.





It wouldn’t have been so bad.

Perhaps Flim could have helped Flam to his feet, apologized, and they could have laughed about it and put it all behind them.

It wouldn’t have been so bad if that one branch hadn’t been jutting out of that log as it had been.

Flim was coated in dirt and dripping with sweat by the time he got Flam back to the campsite, but he barely noticed.

Bowler told him everything would be fine, that it would all turn out okay.

Flim loaded Flam into their travelling wagon and went to retrieve Bowler. He placed him atop his scalp and fastened the wagon’s reins to his body. It would be tough to pull by himself.

Bowler assured him it was an accident, that he didn’t mean to do it. Everything was going to be fine.

Flim gave a hollow smile and trundled along the dirt road.

“No, it won’t be.”

Someone had to be the realist.








“Is that really horror?” Pinkie Pie asked, and if it had not been so sincere, Starlight might have taken it as an insult. “The only thing creepy about that was the talking hat. And to be honest, I’ve made scarier cupcakes.”

At the very least, Starlight was vexed. “The hat’s a metaphor: it’s about how bad thoughts can lead you to a dark place and how it could lead to situations you never meant for if you let them control you.”

Pinkie Pie scratched her poofy mane and somehow pulled out an entire bucket of popcorn. Twilight scowled – wonderful, now her provisions list was messed up.

“I was hoping for something more traditional. So far, Dashie’s been the only one to do that.”

Seeing Starlight huff, Twilight smiled supportively. “I thought it was interesting.”

Starlight seemed to cheer up a little as she got up and blew out a candle.

The room grew darker.

“You know…” Starlight began as she laid back down. “I think Pinkie should go next to show us what she means by ‘traditional’ horror.”

Twilight nodded. “That seems fair.”

“Alrighty then!” Pinkie put her popcorn down, grabbed a flashlight, and put it under her chin. The lighting would have made her face unsettling if it weren’t for the exaggerated grin and kernel stuck between her teeth. “Aunt Pinkie shall teach all of you what horror is!”

“I’m still a year older…”
> 5th Candle
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

It started as a tickle in the base of her skull.

As soon as she became aware of it, grading her students’ tests was the furthest thing from Cheerilee’s mind as she reclined in her seat and stared at her foreleg.

Two- no, three hairs were a slightly lighter shade; it should have escaped her attention but instead it drew it like a moth to a flame. Cheerilee stared gormlessly at them as she parted her lips and slid her tongue across the top row of her teeth.

The tickle moved, and the sensation brought her severe discomfort; it was like the time she entered the Running of the Leaves and tearing through a branch caused it to scrape the back of her neck.

Cheerilee shuddered and gently bit down on her foreleg where the discoloured hairs were. Somehow, that impulsive action seemed to be the thing to appease the tickle and make it leave.

Now free of discomfort, Cheerilee pulled back and wiped spit off her leg, mortified but relieved that she was alone.

“What in the world was that about?”

She went back to grading. The tickle did not return that night.





During class, when she was writing equations on the blackboard, she felt the tickle in the base of her skull. She froze in place, and as the tickle undulated to her left temple, she started to grind her teeth together.

“Miss Cheerilee?”

Cheerilee turned and plastered a disarming smile on her face. “Hm? What is it, Apple Bloom?”

“Ya good?” Apple Bloom and a few other students looked concerned. “Ya jes’ stopped all of a sudden.”

“Ah, I did? Well…”

“See? The equations are so hard that even you’re having trouble!” Scootaloo laughed, though it was without malice.

Cheerilee focused on their laughter as she joined in and tried to ignore the tickle as it crept past her ear. “It just goes to show that you must always refresh yourself on what you know: knowledge doesn’t stay forever amidst neglect.”

She finished writing the equations, then told her students she was going out to run an errand, but she would be back shortly. As soon as she was outside, she bolted around the corner of the schoolhouse and sank her teeth into her foreleg.

Relief – indescribable relief.

The tickle that had been probing behind her left eye receded, and Cheerilee moaned as she worked her jaw back and forth, her body singing in ecstasy even as her leg voiced its discomfort.

Minutes later, Cheerilee snapped out of her trance and found her lower jaw and leg soaked in saliva. She gasped in disgust and fear and cleaned off as best she could; the teeth marks on her leg were hidden but the appendage throbbed in pain.

“Faust, what is wrong with me?”

She would go to the hospital first thing after class.





In the two hours it took for Nurse Redheart to return after doing what tests they needed, Cheerilee had convinced herself she was going to die and already wrote her will in her head.

“How long do I have?”

Redheart smiled as if that was a normal thing to hear. Considering that Ponyville seemed to attract all sorts of anomalous activity and half the populace had panic attacks over bunny stampedes, Redheart’s demeanour might have not been unusual

“Thanks for being so patient. Now…” Redheart looked at the clipboard she was carrying. “Your blood pressure and heart rate are normal. Your eyes, tongue, and ears are fine. You have no health problems nor family history of health problems. In summary, you are a perfectly healthy earth pony. Well, there’s the bite mark, but that will go away by tomorrow.”

Cheerilee released a sigh. “That’s good to hear, but it doesn’t explain this sensation in the back of my head, or why I feel like… biting myself.” She hesitated, embarrassed; it had taken courage to admit that part during the examination.

Redheart’s expression softened. “At your insistence, we did conduct an invasive resonance scan to check if there were issues with your innate magic-”

“Was that the lady unicorn that came in and put her horn in my…?”

“Yes.”

“Could have bought me dinner first.”

Redheart chuckled. “I’ll be sure to scold her later. Anyway, the results show that there’s nothing wrong there either…”

Cheerilee raised her eyebrows. “But?”

“Earth ponies are resilient to foreign magic, so these types of scans – rarely – aren’t a hundred percent accurate. Luckily, severe problems are easily detectable, but anything that’s more subtle or nuanced has a chance – a very small chance, keep in mind – to escape detection.”

“Huh?” Cheerilee’s face heated. “But if you can’t detect it, what was the point of the test? Her horn was long, you know! Thank Faust it was blunt…”

Redheart made a placating gesture. “I’m certain there’s nothing wrong with you. If you’re really concerned, we can try again; otherwise, I can’t do anything except suggest you seek help from a therapeutic source. It could be psychological, not physiological.”

Cheerilee sighed. “Fine. I guess… I guess if all I need to do is bite on something to make that itch go away, then it’s probably not a big deal.”

“Maybe, but don’t neglect your health: if anything else feels wrong, then come straight away, okay?”

“I will. Thank you for seeing me.”





Rummaging through her old belongings, Cheerilee discovered an old teething ring that brought back warm memories. She gave it a good wash and kept it on herself as she did her nightly chores.

The tickle returned when she was filling the bathtub.

Cheerilee put the marked, wooden ring in her mouth and started gnawing and to her delight, the tickle went away immediately.

“Ha! Beat you, you little nuisance.”

She gnawed for a minute longer to rub it in, then settled for a well-deserved soak, anticipating a good night’s rest.





Cheerilee stared up at the ceiling, groggy as usual. She was not a morning pony and only the sweet grace of coffee could stimulate life into her. She could already taste it.

Taste…?

Cheerilee grimaced at an unpleasant tang on her palate and removed her leg from her mouth to sit up.

Her stiff jaw clicked into place as she shut it and she could feel something caked around her lips flake off. Her teeth bore a fuzzy texture as she ran her tongue over them. Finally, she looked down at her leg.

As she expected from the dull pain that was only now registering, most of her fur had been stripped away, leaving the skin and muscle bared. It glistened wetly in the early morning rays coming in from the window. She could see the rips and ruts where her teeth had worked back and forth to make up for their bluntness.

Cheerilee examined her wound with a strange sense of calmness. She knew she should be concerned, greatly so, but something about the red sheen was so alluring. Tentatively, she prodded the exposed sinew with a hoof and shuddered at the burn she felt through her body.

… Ah! She’ll be late for school at this rate.





In the back of her head, she knew this was a serious problem, but any attempt to summon some feeling of urgency was quelled by a thick fog smothering her forebrain and the notion that she would only be making trouble for everypony else by making a big deal out of this.

Her instincts screamed it was wrong.

Cheerilee ignored it, put on a sweater – fortunately, it was near winter, so she could always use the cold as an excuse – and carried out her day with the same enthusiasm and cheer as she usually did.

She walked to the schoolhouse.

She greeted her students.

She checked their homework – those who completed it, at least.

She went around the back of the building to chew on her wound, revelling in the thick fluid that stained her tongue red and the flood of euphoria that came from the Tickle being sated.

She went back inside and scolded Diamond Tiara for ‘accidentally’ spilling glitter over Sweetie Belle’s art project.

She sat inside for recess, though felt no desire to chew on her flesh, so she substituted her free time by reading a book; the ending was anticlimactic, sadly.

She called the little ponies back in, then made them go over what they already learned so she could sneak around back to get a nibble in. Maybe more than that. She limped back in, but none of her students noticed.

She bid them goodbye for the weekend.

She went into town and did her daily tasks in preparation to relax for the next two days.





On Sunday, a good chunk of flesh on her right foreleg was gone. Likewise, her left hindleg also bore a significant loss and her lower lip was heavily scarred – her bottom teeth ached at the cold that slipped through the crevices and tears.

Initially, she had worried over the blood loss, but it seemed that if she left it alone after biting, the flow of blood swiftly dwindled and then stopped. It was annoying to use her towels to clean the blood and add to the laundry, but it was worth the satisfaction of keeping the Tickle at bay.

Because lately, it was growing more demanding. It made its entrance on the back of her skull, but it would vary in its paths: usually it crawled to her ears, but there were times when it would slither down and press against her throat, or roam across her jaw and make her gums tingle like a current was running through them.

Its speed and strength increased each visit, and Cheerilee’s ferocity in attacking her own flesh increased along with it. She used to be careful and precise, but now she was ravenous and careless – she could probably lessen the load of towels to wash if she was more careful, but it is what it is.

“But how on earth do I hide this now?” Cheerilee huffed as she looked at her reflection in the mirror and washed her blood-caked fur. “I can’t go into school like this, but I’ll just cause drama if I go to the hospital. Hmm…”

And in that moment, the Tickle struck.

It sparked the back of her head and darted to scratch the middle of her spine by the time she could focus on it.

It flicked and pried and pulled and twitched and wriggled and squeezed and dug and prodded.

Cheerilee did not realize she had already clamped down on her damaged foreleg until the blood was spilling out from her mouth and she was already pulling her head back as hard as she could. She could feel sinew pulled taut before finally snapping, but the pain was dull and seemed to be happening to somepony else.

Cheerilee knew this was going to be bad, even as she snorted and huffed like an animal, shaking her head ferociously as she pulled and pulled and pulled until-

She fell backwards.

Lying there on the floor, Cheerilee felt a massive surge of relief. She sat up and took a breath through her nostrils before spitting the red and pinkish chunk of meat into the corner of the bathroom.

Unsanitary and hardly good manners, but she could be allowed some levity in the privacy of her house, right?

Still grinning, Cheerilee looked down to survey the damage.

“… Ah?”

All the flesh had been taken, so she expected to see a sliver of white bone, but instead she was greeted with a glossy black coat of… something. She prodded it, curious, and started when an almost-hidden crevice parted.

Oval-shaped and faceted, the eye watched her in turn, seemingly just as curious.

Cheerilee cooed in wonder.

The Tickle returned.

“More? Already? Well, I suppose you must be feeling cooped up in there. Don’t worry – I’ll be quick about it.”

Without a single worry, Cheerilee started on her other foreleg.








“Pinkie, darling…”

“Yes, Rarity?”

“That was the most grotesque story I have ever heard.”

“Thank you!”

“Oh, heavens…”

Twilight heralded the conclusion of Pinkie’s tale with a sigh. “Okay, now you can go blow out a candle. Just one, remember?”

Pinkie tittered and bounced over to the mirror. “Okie-dokie!”

Applejack grumbled as Pinkie hopped past her. “Jeez, was it really necessary to describe all tha’ gore in all tha’ detail?”

“I thought it was a good analogy for addiction,” Starlight said. “The character’s behaviour, specifically in how she tried to hide her actions and thought what she was doing wasn’t a big deal, draws similarities with how some addicts may act in reality.”

Pinkie puffed out a candle and turned around. “Huh?”

“That’s what you were going for, right?”

“No. I just think gross stuff happening to your body is super-scary,” She went back to her spot and rolled back up in her sleeping bag. “Don’t you think so?”

Starlight could not hide her disappointment. “Y-yeah…”

“Well, if we’re basing scary stories on real life…” Applejack began with a confident grin. “Then ah got a doozy fer ya’ll.”

Twilight carefully watched Trixie’s hoof creep toward the bowl of liquorice. “I can’t wait to hear it. And yes, I can see you doing that.”
> 6th Candle
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Apple Bloom.”

The cinnamon scent of the cauldron’s brew lingered in Apple Bloom’s nostrils even after she turned away and looked over her shoulder. “Yeah?”

Zecora was holding a lantern, or at least something that looked like one; it had an exotic shape carved from dark wood and a rune of sorts etched onto one side.

“I am sorry to say, but we seem to have taken most of the day.” Zecora nodded in the direction of one of her windows.

Apple Bloom looked over and gasped. “Shucks! It got this dark already? Ah, my sis’ is gonna tan my hide.”

Apple Bloom had come to Zecora’s hut with the noon sun beaming in through the window. Now, it was practically pitch-black.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean ta stay here for so long,” Apple Bloom rubbed the back of her neck. “But I’m learning all kinds of neat stuff here.”

Zecora chuckled warmly. “It is comforting to have such an earnest student; most of my kind back home are rarely, if ever, so prudent. But it is best for you to head home, for the Everfree is no place to roam. I shall guide you, swift and quiet we shall pass through.”

“Ya don’t have to do that.” Apple Bloom said, though she was secretly relieved as she walked to the front door and pushed it open.

Yep, just as she thought.

The Everfree was creepy on the sunniest of days and the night truly brought out its hostile and independent nature.

Standing on the threshold of Zecora’s safe abode, Apple Bloom listened to the exotic chirps and cries of a myriad of insects. Less often, her ears would catch the stray sound of something slightly larger moving through the brush to feast on the chattering morsels.

The canopy was so thick that the light from Zecora’s home could not pierce it, making Apple Bloom feel as if she were underground; the notion made her briefly dizzy.

Zecora moved beside her and lit the lantern with a strange gesture of her hoof. Apple Bloom had been bugging her for months about Zebrican magic, but all she got in return was a mysterious smile and an assurance that time and hard work will give her the results she wanted.

Basically, the cliché line the masters gave the heroes in every adventure story.

“Stay close to me, Apple Bloom,” Zecora held the lantern high. Its light rolled across the ground and sent bright-eyed critters scurrying for the brush. Apple Bloom inched closer and swallowed. “Or, tonight, you shall meet your doooom.”

She looked up at Zecora’s exaggerated expression and snorted. “Well, ya’ll are th’ one that’s gonna have ta explain ta my sis’ about what happened, so that’s gonna be your doom.”

And with that moment shedding levity on them, Apple Bloom walked alongside Zecora as they took the dirt path back to Ponyville.

Darkness loomed ahead and, gradually, started to creep up behind them as they ventured further and further from Zecora’s hut. The sounds of the critters seemed to abandon them as well, for it grew quieter and quieter until each step Apple Bloom took was clear and crisp.

Eventually, it was just them, walking forward, unable to see anything beyond the dome of light the lantern graced them with.

Darkness.

Silence.

“I-I played dodgeball at school today,” Apple Bloom suddenly blurted out. She did not mean to, but now that she had, and now that Zecora was looking at her, she could not stop. “I almost got out, but Scoots came in at th’ last second an’ caught th’ ball before it hit th’ ground. She’s super-fast!”

Zecora nodded and made a hum – her usual response to most conversations. Apple Bloom knew it wasn’t rudeness, she just preferred to listen.

“An’ after that we went back inside an’ Miss Cheerilee had ta stop th’ lesson because Snips got his hoof glued to his butt again!” Apple Bloom snickered, the sound slicing through the still air. “I don’t know how he manages ta do that, but it gets funnier every time. Well, at one point it was sad, but then it got funny again.”

Apple Bloom’s next breath brought the smell of freshly-dug earth and something sickly sweet. The Everfree had weird smells like this all the time. Zecora said that when it got dark like this it was better to use your smell and hearing to find the herbs you need. Apple Bloom was still a beginner, but she was starting to learn which smells were good and which-

Apple Bloom stopped in place when she heard a twig snap.

Her second thought, following her initial thought of ‘what th’ heck was that?’, was disbelief mixed with slight indignation at how cliché the situation was. She was almost tempted to turn around and shout at the stalker, ‘seriously?’, but fear kept her pinned.

Zecora realized her stillness after walking forward a little and tilted her head. “What has you stopped? A-”

“Is there something behind us?”

“Something…?”

Apple Bloom dared to turn around, but all she saw the yawning blackness. Her field of vision extended somewhat as Zecora lifted the lantern higher, but there was nothing but the path they had already walked on.

Zecora hummed. “Be wary of where you tread, but do not let this place hold you with dread.”

“Y-yeah, you’re right. Sorry.”

Apple Bloom hurried to match Zecora’s pace and looked straight ahead.

Not that it really helped; she was just as afraid of something suddenly lunging out from the darkness as she was of something following close behind with long, bony claws poised and waiting to sink deep into her flesh.

“S-s-so, anyway, Big Mac showed me th’ proper way ta buck a tree, so that all the apples fall in the buckets.”

“Hm.”

“It’s less about strength an’ more about knowing th’ right place ta buck.”

“Hm.”

“See, every tree has this, uh… this ‘pressure point’ like how ponies have spots all over their body that hurt a lot if ya press on them too hard. Ya gotta find th’ tree’s pressure point an’ then you gotta make sure that went ya hit it, you’re not doin’ any damage ta th’ trunk.”

Apple Bloom looked over her shoulder.

“… Zecora, could you please check again?”

Zecora stopped and shone the light behind them. Nothing.

“Okay, thanks. S-sorry.”

“Hm.”

Their footsteps were so loud.

Why were there no other noises? It was so quiet that Apple Bloom swore she could hear her own heartbeat. It must have been thumping quite hard because the edges of her vision seemed to waver.

She took in a breath and scared herself with the noise. “Ah!”

Zecora glanced at her and simply smiled reassuringly.

Apple Bloom returned the gesture with her own uncertain rictus and looked straight up, swallowing thickly.

Darkness above.

Was an enormous spider prowling above and spinning webs to entrap them?

Another twig snapped behind them. Or… was she hearing things?

Apple Bloom glanced over her shoulder.

Darkness. Nothing.

“There is a-” Zecora began so suddenly that Apple Bloom flinched. Zecora opened and closed her mouth for a second, surprised. “Sorry.”

“N-no! I mean, no, that’s fine.”

Zecora nodded. “There is a tree back in my land, one most grand. I used to climb it when I was young, so that I could watch the setting and the rising of the sun. My mother and father would scold me so, for the tree was sacred, only for the shaman to go.”

Apple Bloom raised her eyebrows. Zecora rarely spoke of her homeland. “Really?”

“But alas, I would go as I please, and the other children, who were so scared, I would tease. One day, the shaman came as I climbed at night; I tell you, I received such a fright.”

Apple Bloom’s attention was diverted by what sounded like a third set of hooves trotting behind them.

“He was a kind sage and he said I was very brave for my-”

Apple Bloom’s breath left her, and her panicked mind registered it as somepony else. She exclaimed and pressed against Zecora’s side.

“P-please!”

Zecora sighed and swung the lantern around.

Darkness. Path. Nothing. Silence.

This was the third time now and Apple Bloom felt her face heat with shame. She hung her head and fought back tears.

“I’m sorry.”

Zecora put the lantern down and lowered herself until she was eye level. “Do not feel bad, child; your fear is in no way strange or wild.”

“But you’re not afraid.”

“I was at first.”

“Huh?”

“Yes. Why, for a week, I could not complete a single verse.”

Apple Bloom gawked. “So, even you were scared?”

Zecora nodded. “With time, this place will become familiar to you; the words I speak are true.”

Apple Bloom was not sure if she could ever get accustomed to the Everfree enough to roam it at night, but Zecora made her want to believe it could be done. “… I’m still kinda scared.”

“There is no shame in that,” Zecora stood and picked up the lantern. “If anything means to cause you harm, then I will squash them like a gnat.”

Apple Bloom snorted again and stood. “I feel bad for anything that comes at us, then.”

Zecora smiled.

It took a bit, but Apple Bloom was ready to move on.

Darkness ahead.

Darkness behind.

Darkness above.

They had walked for a while now.

Apple Bloom was still unnerved by the silence, only broken by things she only half-believed to be genuine and not something her overactive imagination was creating.

A gust of wind briefly moaned through the gaps in the branches on the sides of the path, making Apple Bloom huddle closer to Zecora.

Another sound.

“Zecora?”

The lantern showed nothing behind them.

“Thanks.”

They walked on.

Silence.

Darkness.

But then, Apple Bloom could see light ahead – a pinprick.

“Hey, look!” Apple Bloom squinted to see better. “Yeah! That’s the end of the path!” Vigour swelled within Apple Bloom as she giggled and tapped her hoof against the dirt. “Wanna race?”

She meant it jokingly, but Zecora gave a low, ‘oh?’ and suddenly sped up.

Pleasantly surprised, Apple Bloom lowered her head and charged. “Heh! I won’t lose!”

The darkness no longer bothered her – she ran full-tilt, grinning as the light ahead grew brighter and brighter. She could scarcely make out the shapes of Ponyville’s buildings and see the streetlights promising safety and comfort.

And not only that, but there was another shape there, too – one with a familiar hat.

“Applejack!”

Apple Bloom and Zecora cleared the distance in no time, and the darkness receded. Apple Bloom imagined it giving a frustrated moan as they evaded its clutches.

But then, as she looked up into her sister’s furious face, she pondered that perhaps it was laughing wickedly.





Applejack had just arrived to look for her when they came back. She had been worried, though most of that worry changed to anger – as it usually did – which translated into a lecture on keeping time and not making one’s kin work themselves up imagining the worst.

Apple Bloom weathered through it and soon found herself back home. She entered the dining room and let out a long sigh of contentment. She absorbed the familiar sounds and smells, feeling as if she could take on the world.

“I don’t think we’ve ever had ya ‘round our neck of th’ woods, have we?” Applejack noisily came through the door, Zecora following close behind. “Lemme jes’ make ya one of our famous pies as thanks for lookin’ after this one.”

Zecora wobbled over – Apple Bloom frowned in concern – to the dining table and sat down heavily. She put her lantern on the table and exhaled heavily.

“Zecora? You okay?”

“Hm?” Zecora looked over and gave a tired smile. “Yes, do not concern yourself with me; I am tired from running, for I am not as fit as I should be.”

Applejack turned on the oven. “Oh, Apple Bloom, could ya go an’ make sure the barn’s locked? I was meanin’ ta do it myself, but I forgot.”

“Alright, sis’,” Apple Bloom walked through the threshold that separated the kitchen from the living room. “Be back soon!”

Apple Bloom went outside and stopped on the front porch. “Wait, this mornin’ Big Mac said not ta lock it tonight. I think. Umm… shoot, maybe sis’ remembers.”

She went back in.

Apple Bloom could hear Zecora talking.

“… anything with her around.”

She frowned and crept closer, hiding away in a spot where she could see her sister and Zecora sitting at the table. Applejack looked concerned and Zecora looked…

Haunted.

Applejack shifted in her chair. “What are ya sayin’?”

Zecora inhaled shakily. Her body was trembling. “She was afraid. She kept asking for me to turn around with the lantern. She thought something was following us.”

Apple Bloom felt a cold block of ice in her belly. Why was Zecora not rhyming? It seemed wrong for her not to.

“I saw nothing. There are sounds in the Everfree all the time and I heard nothing odd,” Zecora stared ahead and licked her lips. “When… when we were almost out, she moved forward a little. I… I do not know why, but I turned around one more time with the lantern.”

There was a long silence.

“And behind us, I saw a pony with no head.”








“Brrrrr!!” Rarity hugged herself and looked around. “That sent a ghastly chill up my spine.”

“Yeah, that was pretty good!” Rainbow Dash held her hoof out. “Must be all that camping experience, huh?”

“Might be.” Applejack bumped it, then stood to blow out a candle.

Twilight tapped her chin. “So… was that a tale based on a personal experience?”

Applejack returned and laid down with a shrug. “Sort of. Years ago, I was walkin’ with Big Mac on th’ road one night an’ we were being followed by a stray pup.”

“What happened?”

“We named her Winona.”

“Aw, that’s cute.”

Trixie rose suddenly. “Ah, enough of these amateurish ramblings!”

“Hey, you mixed the chips with the popcorn! Those salts aren’t compatible!”

“Let the seasonings fight to the death! Trixie shall terrify all who are present with a tale to end all tales!”

“Must be her childhood…” Rainbow Dash murmured.
> 7th Candle
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

It started ten years after she banished Nightmare Moon.

A letter had materialized on her bedside drawer in a plume of black fire. Celestia read it against her better judgement and barely made it past the first paragraph before tearing it to shreds and throwing the pieces into the fireplace.

The aroma of decay lingered long after the flames had died.

The next time it happened was a year later. She had pushed the memory into the recesses of her mind, but it came surging back as she walked into her quarters and found the same aged parchment waiting for her on her bed.

Celestia could not help herself: she read it through, forced herself to.

The letter was a vivid description of the torment being experienced by one trapped in Tartarus. The style of writing projected a malicious coldness that was unmoved by the suffering it recorded in short yet accurate sentences.

Celestia burned this one, too, and slept elsewhere to give the smell time to dissipate.

The next year, it happened again.

Celestia read of a vivisection being done on a stallion who had murdered his wife and child fifty years ago. It recorded the sound of a sharpened knife gliding across exposed bone, the ululating shrill of his cries, and the squelch of his abdominal cavity.

The next year, same as always.

Celestia was told of a mare who used her charms to lure and kill beguiled stallions. The letter informed her that there was a unique aroma that only formed when heated metal was placed against soft tissue. Celestia had to stop when the writer casually remarked how the bloated corpses of the ponies the mare fooled would waddle in and begin to defile her.

In the calm between this letter and the next, Celestia devoted a significant amount of time and resources to finding the sender of these letters.

One of the ponies she entrusted this task to was a learned scholar, a master at divination and tracking magical signatures. He assured her he would find the sender and created a complex spell matrix to do so.

He cast the spell on the letter she kept and vanished before Celestia’s eyes.

The letter went into the fire and Celestia ended her efforts.

Like clockwork, the next letter arrived in the following year.

It spoke of a recent arrival who ranted and shouted until his tongue was removed and he was tossed into a pit of ants.

Halfway through this letter, a sprite of black flame manifested in thin air and dropped off the pale, bloodless muscle in question.

Years turned into decades.

Celestia tried to ignore them. She threw them into the fire before the words could jump out at her. It worked for a while, but then her dreams were corrupted with images of endless fire, oceans of blood, and walls of writhing flesh and deafening wails.

If she would not read of it, then she would be shown it.

Two hundred and thirty-one years and messages later, something changed.

The writer showed a hostility that was not there before. They sprinkled their paragraphs with snide remarks and none-too-subtle implications that the events they were witnessing were her fault.

Celestia burned it once she was done reading and for once there was no smell.

From then on, the letters escalated in their aggression: the snide remarks changed into death threats and lamentations that they – the writer – were unable to act on their hatred. From this, Celestia extrapolated that the creature writing this was perhaps trapped in Tartarus, too. At the very least, they were incapable of reaching her.

When the three hundred and thirty-fifth letter arrived, it simply read ‘DIE’ and emitted a more potent smell when it burned.

The next letter after that vaporized as soon as she touched it, leaving a burn on her skin. That should have been impossible.

The one after that became saturated in blood as soon as she got near it.

The next one was formed of equine skin with a symbol carved into it that gave her vertigo if she looked at it for more than a second.

Twenty-three years later, Celestia got the greatest shock of her life when nothing came.

She had inured herself to the terrifying nature of the letters to keep her mind intact, but it was their absence that threatened to undo the fortitude she’d built over the centuries. What did it mean? Was it a way to get her guard down? Did it mean that Tartarus itself no longer existed?

Celestia would not know until the next year when the letter came. It was almost a relief to see it again.

There were just four words:

THE SUN IS BEAUTIFUL

Years passed with no letters – Celestia’s paranoia threatened to influence her decisions as monarch of Equestria. She suspected every new face of being this writer.

Decades passed – she took a month-long sabbatical, half to relax and half to make sure that if the writer did show, then she could take them alone.

Centuries passed – as sturdy as Celestia’s memory was, the letters and their contents slowly faded into the fog of time. Her fear of being alone, of seeing new faces seemed irrational now that she had forgotten the reason for it.

And eventually, when her beloved sister was returned and her precious student was the new Element of Magic, Celestia forgot the experience wholly.

Until, the year after Luna’s return, her student came to her with a distressed grimace, speaking of strange and threatening letters describing how beautiful Celestia looked when she was sleeping.








“Trixie?”

“Yes, Twilight?”

“I feel as if you’re still sore over that amulet business.”

“What makes you say that?”

Twilight rolled her eyes. “Anyway, that was pretty chilling.”

“Chilling is a good word,” Rainbow Dash nodded. “But I don’t think I’d go as far as ‘scary’.”

Trixie harrumphed and went to blow out a candle. “The brilliance of Trixie’s tales is lost in all the air in that head of yours.”

“Yeah, yeah, go eat more of our red liquorice.”

“I shall!”

“What do you think of that story, Starlight?” Pinkie asked.

Starlight thought a bit. “I like it. It’s simple, it lays out the ‘horror’ aspect quickly and clearly, and it plays into the ‘unknown’; we never found out who that writer was or why that mare was receiving letters in the first place.”

“Aw…” Pinkie deflated. “I was kinda hoping for another study and analysis. Maybe a thesis!”

Starlight pouted.

“Jeez, cheer up – I’m just pulling your tail. Besides, if I was going to read any thesis on horror stories, then I’d want to read one done by you. Twilight’s fine, too, but she uses a lot of big words that take more time to spell than explain what they mean.”

Twilight fumed. “Okay, for that, I’m exchanging one of your gummy worms with a potato chip from Fluttershy’s share!”

“Tyrant!”

“Duly noted. That aside, according to my list, the next mare to tell a story is… me!”
> 8th Candle
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

There was no warning; no omens, no aching knees, no mysterious strangers shambling into town to cackle mysteriously – nothing of the like.

One night in Appleloosa, the dead rose from their graves.

Braeburn had been fortunate enough – or unfortunate – to be visiting a relative’s headstone late at night when the cemetery seemed to give a collective sigh. He dismissed it initially, certain it was his ears playing tricks, until the dirt near a neighbouring tombstone shifted and parted for a greyish forelimb to stick out.

And then another on the other side.

And then the one in front of him.

Braeburn was a simple stallion with simple wants and thoughts; folks from the big cities found that stereotype striking and funny, but he didn’t see what the problem was – his life was fulfilling and happy. And being simple came with its benefits:

For one thing, it meant he didn’t stay there and gawk and argue semantics with himself about the dead rising. No, sir, he hightailed it from the cemetery as soon as it happened, and because he was a simple stallion, he had a simple goal in mind.

Luna’s good grace lighted the dirt path to Appleloosa as he ran faster than he ever had, lungs burning as ragged breaths left them. He was already chilled by the sweat he was working up. The wind blew his mane behind him when his hat finally came off a dozen or so yards back there; it was his favourite but that could be replaced.

He ran and ran and ran until he was surrounded by familiar shops and houses, and he went to each one with a bang and a holler on their doors.

“Get up! Get yer weapons! Hurry, they’re comin’ this way!”

Slowly, much too slowly, windows glared out at him as lights were turned on. A few doors were thrown open as wide-eyed ponies staggered out in a half-awake fright.

Shoe Shine wandered over with his nightcap. “What in tarnation is all th’ yellin’ about?”

Braeburn stopped to grab him. “Shoe Shine, get yer wife an’ young uns somewhere safe, then grab somethin’ sharp.”

“What? Braeburn, yer not makin’ a lick of sense.”

“Th’ undead! They’re comin’!”

“Undead?!”

Braeburn let him go and ran off, only turning briefly to shout, “Look to th’ graves if ya’ll think I’m lie-talkin’!”

He kept on running, kept on banging and hollering. Braeburn made it to the sheriff’s place and found Silver Star already coming out through the door, apparently just putting his hat on. He looked at Braeburn in confusion.

“Boy, I can hear tha’ racket from here. What’s-”

“Sheriff, we got zombies!”

Silver Star’s moustache twitched. “Boy, ya been hittin’ th’ moonshine?”

“It’s true! I-I was at th’ graves payin’ respect to mah cousin when th’ ground started to shift an’ these zombies came crawlin’ out!” Braeburn shuddered. “Dang, I can still see their rottin’ faces…”

“Maybe ya should come inside an’ sit a spell.”

“Sheriff, when have ya’ll ever known me to lie?” He got a silent stare in response. “Please, just come an’ see for yerself!”

Silver Star grunted and scratched his head. “Yer right – ya don’t lie, but tha’ don’t mean ya can’t be mistaken. Alright, lemme see what’s gotten ya shakin’.”

“Yes, thank ya! It’s back this way!”

By the time Braeburn returned to the part of town facing the cemetery, plenty of the townsfolk were running around. There was panic in the air; Braeburn could feel the tension in his skin.

He looked in the direction of the cemetery. His heart sank into his stomach when he saw several figures approaching in the distance, illuminated by the moon’s silver shine. He couldn’t make out any small details from where he was, but his hindbrain told him there was something wrong and unnatural about them.

“What th’ hell?” Silver Star shook his head. “Naw, this… Tha’ can’t be true.”

“Sheriff, we ain’t got time to question it!” Braeburn cried. “They’re comin’ this way! We need to act!”

Silver Star blinked hard. “They’re… Right, right. Ya’ll…” He cleared his throat and blew a piercing whistle that caused all in earshot to stop and turn. “Alright, everyone grab what ya can an’ set up a barricade along this here road! You and you – grab tha’ there wagon. Everypony else needs to grab themselves a weapon an’ line up here! Get all th’ young an’ elderly to town hall! Move it, ya varmints!”

There was a flurry of movement as coordination and a goal was established. Braeburn felt his nerves steady somewhat – he had something to do, he wasn’t running blind. He dared to hope that they could all get out of this alive if they worked fast.

Zombies. It was the head, right? Removing the head?

Braeburn saw Ol’ Boy Hanky come out of his home dragging a small wheelbarrow full of farming tools. He and several others ran over and grabbed one – he ended up with a hoof-held scythe.

No idea how well it would work, but he’d find out soon enough.

What else?

He had to find something to wrap his limbs.

Securing rags was easy – he borrowed some from Miss Thread’s store and dipped them in water, so they wouldn’t tear easily. He tied them tightly around his hooves, then went over to where they were stacking hay bales and furniture to form the barricade.

The undead were closer now. They’d probably be on the town in five or six minutes, tops.

Silver Star came up on his side and put down another hay bale with a grunt. “Dagnabbit, this ain’t how I thought my night would go!”

Braeburn smiled shakily. “Change of pace from keepin’ Tipsy from th’ salt rocks, huh?”

“Tch…” Silver Star’s moustache twitched again. “Those varmints’ll prolly dry themselves to dust bitin’ his salty ass.”

That moment of levity was gone as soon as quickly as it came. Silver Star looked ahead, cursed, and ran to grab a weapon. Braeburn swallowed and took a spot between a bale and an overturned wagon. He looked through the wheels’ spokes as his fellow neighbours joined him.

The shouted orders and adrenaline-spiked chatter gradually dwindled until ceasing altogether as everypony prepared themselves for the upcoming fight.

The zombies were encroaching on the edges of the town.

Braeburn was close enough to make out which ones were fresh and which ones had been underground for some time. He could see his cousin among them, still wearing the jacket they buried him in, and swallowed a horrified sob.

Some of the undead were moaning and grunting, the noises carrying on the wind. Their shuffling was slow but persistent and their eyes projected an unnatural white glow like fireflies had nested in their sockets.

Braeburn could smell the fear in the air.

“Alright!” Silver Star shouted, holding his scythe in the air. “Find yer horseshoes an’ give ‘em what for! Ain’t nothin’ gonna wreck my town while I’m still kickin’!”

A few ponies shouted, and Braeburn joined, if only to bolster his resolve.

The first zombie approached the barricade.

And fell as somepony slashed at their face.

Braeburn was surprised to find that it had been him when he saw blood glistening on his blade.

But he had no time to celebrate as the rest of the horde fell on them.

Shouts and cries filled the air as each swing of a weapon was punctuated by a meaty impact and a visceral splash of fluid. The undead groaned and ignored their attacks as they pushed at the barricade with their rotten bodies.

Braeburn swung like a madpony, fear and anger fuelling his body as he hacked and slashed and desperately tried to keep the barricade from collapsing. He had no idea how many of his neighbours remained or if any had already been bitten, but he couldn’t afford to stop and check – he had to hold the line.

But despite his efforts, one zombie made it through and the rest flowed into the gap like a tsunami.

Silver Star screamed at everypony to get back.

Braeburn watched in terror as two zombies lurched towards him.

And as he swung and nailed one in the head, the other-

-stumbled past him.

Braeburn blinked and turned in astonishment. He failed to see another of the horde approach and jumped back in alarm when they, too, ignored him.

“Sh-sheriff!”

He looked around in awe as he saw the same thing around him; the undead were moving past the barricade and the ponies defending it as if they weren’t even there. His fellow townsfolk started realizing this as well and the angry cries and attacks began to stop.

Soon, they were all watching as the creatures shuffled by, grunting and moaning.

“Th’ hell’s goin’ on here?” Somepony cried.

“They headin’ for our families?” Another asked.

“Naw, don’t look like it.” Ol’ Boy Hanky answered.

Braeburn shook his head in disbelief and turned to Silver Star. “Uh, what do we do now?”

Silver Star looked at him blankly. “I… I don’t rightly know.”

Braeburn licked his lips as he had a crazy idea. He looked to the spearpoint of the horde and shouted, “Cousin Whetstone!”

It was a long-shot.

But to Braeburn’s surprise, one of the zombies in front stopped and sluggishly turned around, looking at him, and it was almost as if Whetstone was still there and alive.

“C-cousin…” Braeburn swallowed nervously. “What… what’re ya’ll doin’ back with us?”

Whetstone stared at him, swaying as some undead jostled him as they moved past. “Runnin’…”

“What?”

“Runnin’…” Whetstone’s tongue lolled in his maw. “Runnin’ away…”

With that, he turned back around and re-joined the horde.

Braeburn watched, gobsmacked. “Runnin’ from what?”

And again, the ground seemed to give a collective sigh.

Braeburn froze and looked back to the cemetery. “Sheriff…”

Silver Star grit his teeth together. “I know, son.”

It was too far to make out any details, but Braeburn could see something coming out from the cemetery. It was big. And there were more than one.

Braeburn’s heart sank, but his body automatically made its way back to the barricade. “Same plan?”

Silver Star nodded. “Don’t matter what it is. We protect our own.”

“Yeah. Sure thing.”

And he steadied his resolve.








Twilight was met with silent stares. “What?”

“That was…” Rainbow Dash folded her forelegs. “Good.”

“And… that’s bad?”

Pinkie Pie shook her head. “No way! It’s great that it’s good. I think we were just expecting something like the scary stories you usually tell.”

Applejack nodded. “Like th’ time ya fergot yer shopping list.”

“Hey, I have three mouths to feed in this castle, each one with their own varying appetites. You’d panic, too, when the least fussy one is the pony.”

Starlight blinked. “Me?!”

“Sorry. I really love having you as my student, but it’s not easy buying food for you,” Twilight gave an apologetic smile as she went to blow out a candle. “Case in point: I had to make a separate list to handle this sleepover’s provisions just for you.”

Starlight blushed beet-red.

“Is Trixie not important enough to have her own list?” Trixie cried. “I have a very discerning palate, you know.”

Twilight rolled her eyes as she snuffed out a candle and returned to her spot. “Hm, so that’s eight tales that have been told. Everypony’s had their turn? Okay, so now we go back around to Fluttershy.”

Fluttershy nodded. “I’m ready. Um, by the way, when we finish telling sixteen stories, what happens then?”

“Well, nothing, really. From what I’ve read about the Kaidan game, all the spirits that were attracted to the mirror by the tales are supposedly released on the snuffing of the sixteenth candle,” Twilight chuckled. “But that’s just an urban legend.”

“Don’t count out urban legends, egghead,” Rainbow Dash moaned in a low voice. “Because when they’ll GET YOU!”

“Well, we’ve got you to beat them up if they do come, don’t we?”

“Yeah, that’s true. I am pretty awesome at everything.”
> 9th Candle
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Hey, what is that? Mare carrying all that crap, I’m talking to you!”

Coco turned her head in surprise. She was the sort to go unnoticed in daily life, a trait that Suri exploited gratuitously. Coco felt it was both a blessing and a curse, the former because usually being stopped in the streets of Manehattan entailed further grief.

The pony who stopped her was a stallion she had just walked past. He was dressed in flashy clothing with gaudy jewellery; a sign he likely worked in the fashion business, but Coco did not recognize him.

Nervously, she dared to reply. “P-pardon?”

“That, that…” He waved his hoof in circles. “Thing following ya,” He then pointed to the ground between them. “Don’t tell me ya don’t see it.”

Coco followed his line of sight and noticed something on the pavement. At first, she thought it was a spool of silver thread she dropped but realized shortly that she didn’t buy that colour. She took a closer look and jumped when it moved.

“Wah?!”

It was as big as her hoof, shaped like a rubber ball, and covered in long, silver hairs. There were no other distinguishing features; no mouth, no eyes, no legs – it was a hairy sphere that moved too distinctly to be a result of the faint breeze.

Coco wasn’t afraid of mice and even if she was, this thing still wouldn’t invoke feelings of revulsion or fright. The most she felt was a slight aversion to its moist strands.

‘Where did it come from? How long was it behind me?’

“So, you didn’t know?” The stallion grunted and took a step forward. “Whatever, it’s an eyesore, so I’ll deal with it.”

“No, wait!” Coco couldn’t ‘hurry’ with all the materials she was balancing, but her tone was enough to make the stallion pause. “It’s not doing anypony harm, so…!”

The silver sphere rolled to the side languidly.

“Tch, fine,” The stallion turned and went on his way. “Don’t blame me if it gives ya some crazy disease.”

Coco breathed a sigh of relief, then looked down at the… creature? “Um, hello there,” It didn’t reply, probably because it didn’t have a mouth. “Are you…? I should take you to a vet, perhaps, but I really need to bring these to Suri or she’ll get mad. Can you be patient for a little bit?”

It bobbed slightly.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”





Despite lacking any visible means of registering its environment, the little sphere – Coco decided to call it ‘Silver’ – rolled after her with little trouble. It kept close to her legs, lagging just enough to avoid tripping her. Coco got a few strange looks on the way, but nothing that was worth noting about.

Arriving at Suri’s apartment, Coco opened the door and walked in. She saw Suri at her desk, working on something.

“About time,” Suri sighed without turning. “Did you get lost on the way?”

“No, but something odd happened,” Coco put the materials down in a safe place. “A little animal, I think, started following me.”

Suri put her threading needle down and levelled a dark glare at her. “It’s not a cat, is it?”

Coco shuddered. “N-no.”

“… A dog?” Suri’s glare softened somewhat and she sounded… hopeful?

“I doubt that.”

“Then get rid of it,” Suri growled and got up to search the apartment. “Can’t let it mess up my talent, m’kay? So, where is it?”

Coco blinked and looked around her legs. “It… was just here.”

“You lost it?”

“I-I’m sure it’s just… Er…”

Suri slapped her hoof against her forehead. “Jeez…”

“I’ll find it! Fast!”

“Yes, you will.”

Coco went through the apartment in search of Silver. She looked under the couches and chairs, checked the closets and the hallway outside the apartment, and even checked the materials she brought back on the chance that Silver mistook them for his own kind.

Nothing.

Coco was ready to give up when she heard Suri cry out.

“What is this thing? A rat?!”

“M-maybe?!”

Coco ran over and found Suri giving her desk a look of disgust. Silver had somehow made its way to the top and was using its hair to grab at various spools and threading needles.

“Oh, look – it can use its hair like little arms.”

“I don’t care – get it away!”

Coco moved forward and cooed to Silver with her hooves held out. Silver seemed to have taken an interest in the needles and held onto them fast, leaving the spools behind as it, surprisingly, wriggled into Coco’s grasp. The hairs felt gross, but Silver was surprisingly warm.

“Okay, let me just…” Coco grabbed one of the needles and pulled. “U-um, oh, it’s quite strong.”

“Ugh, just get it out of here,” Suri sighed harshly. “And don’t come back until you’ve done it, m’kay?”

Coco’s ears flattened against her skull and she quickly ran out, flinching as Suri slammed the door shut.

Silver seemed content in her grasp, playing with the three needles it stole.





Coco tried taking the needles away again, but Silver would not give them up, and she was afraid she would hurt it if she used too much force. Unfortunately, this meant she had to put it back on the ground and let it follow her because it would wave those needles around and prick her.

Ponies were especially curious about the little hairball trailing after her; some even followed for a few metres before losing interest and going back to their previous path. Some stallion offered to buy it from her, but Coco turned him down.

Coco noticed a broken bottle in the gutter and passed without much thought.

A few seconds later, she heard a sharp scraping and turned around. “Ah!”

Silver had rolled through the shards of the bottle and lassoed them with its hair.

“No! Why did you…?” Coco stopped herself before she could try grabbing them. That would likely just end up with her getting cut and an infection. “Oh, never mind.”

Several minutes later, Coco found herself in front of the veterinarian. It didn’t look busy today, which was a relief; she could get Silver checked without delay. After making sure it was still behind her, Coco walked in. This time, she made sure to keep Silver within her sights.

There was one other pony in the waiting room, but it looked like they were preparing to head out. The mare and her pet cat, a rather chubby tabby, looked up on Coco’s entry. The mare grimaced spotting Silver and her cat licked its lips.

Coco went up to reception. “Excuse me. I don’t have an appointment, but I was wondering if the vet could just take a loot at, um… well, I’m not sure what it is.”

The receptionist yawned – didn’t even look up from her magazine. “Just go on in.”

Coco opened her mouth, then closed it with a sigh. “Thanks.”

Coco walked down the only corridor. Thankfully, the vet had their initials on the door, so she didn’t have to spend time wandering around looking lost. As she went through, she was greeted with the pungent scent of chemicals and animal.

“Hello there,” A cheery-looking mare in a white coat seemed to have been taking stock by a wall unit holding various bottles and jars. She put down her clipboard and walked over. “Can I help with something?”

Coco was reassured by the mare’s friendliness. “Yes, if you can. See, on my way home, I was followed by this animal. But I don’t know what it is,” Coco looked behind, relieved to see Silver was there. “Do you know?”

The vet – her name tag said ‘Dr. Thermo’ – took one look and her eyes widened. “Mother Faust, are those needles and glass?”

“Y-yes. I didn’t do that, though! It just… picked them up and won’t let go.”

Dr. Thermo pursed her lips. “… Please shut the door.”

Coco obeyed.

Dr. Thermo approached Silver carefully. “Interesting. I’ve never seen anything like this in all my years. Where did you find it?”

“Well, it found me.”

“Right, you said it was following you. Hmm…” Dr. Thermo walked over to the wall unit and procured a camera. “Don’t worry – it doesn’t have a flash.”

Coco stood by silently as the vet took a few pictures. Silver just sat there, playing with its needles and glass shards.

Dr. Thermo put the camera aside and turned to her. “You said it won’t let go? It’s strong?”

“Yes,” Coco shrugged. “But I didn’t try very hard because I was afraid I’d pull out some of its hairs.”

“I see.”

The vet did some more observations and jotted down some notes in her journal. Coco watched her go over to her desk and slip the journal into a drawer.

She turned around and came back. “So far, my initial thought is that it’s… gone.”

“Pardon?” Coco looked down and gasped. “Ah! I-I only looked away for a second!”

She feared they would have to search the entire room, but her attention was drawn by a jarring bang of metal as a tray dropped to the floor. Coco looked over to the wall unit and saw Silver on one of the shelves, holding two hypodermic needles in its strands.

Dr. Thermo spluttered. “Wh-what? I put those away. How did it…?”

Coco was mortified. “Please come down from there! I’ll give you, um… treats? A massage?”

Silver was not swayed and continued rummaging around, somehow able to cling to surfaces like an insect. It traversed several more shelves and secured an ink pen before finally coming down onto the floor.

Coco spun to the vet and lowered her head. “I’m so sorry.”

Dr. Thermo just blinked. “Did it just get bigger?”

That couldn’t have been, but Coco took another look just to be sure. In fact, Silver had grown, just a little but enough to be noticeable. It was now slightly larger than her hoof and covered itself in even thicker strands of hair.

Silver started to roll towards the vet’s desk.

“Hey!” Dr. Thermo said sharply, then whistled to get its attention. When that failed, she grabbed a glove that looked like an oven mitt from the shelf and ran over, putting her hoof down in its path. “What on earth are you doing, little guy?”

Like a cat, Silver’s hair stood on end and the tools it gathered lashed out at once.

“Shit!”

Coco covered her mouth and gasped as the vet stumbled back, clutching at the shredded glove. “Are you okay?”

Dr. Thermo nodded. “It didn’t go all the way through, but damn, that surprised me.”

Coco could do little but watch as Silver climbed up the desk and pulled open drawers, looting pens, pencils – anything that had a point.

Her stomach felt like there was a block of ice within.

“I have no idea what this thing is…” Dr. Thermo looked down at her glove and shook her head. “But I think it would be best to sedate it for now until we can bring somepony else in.”

Coco nodded. “If you think that’s best…”

Dr. Thermo walked over to another door Coco hadn’t noticed. “Tranqs should be in here.”

The second she opened the door, everything happened in a flash.

A blur of movement was all Coco saw. She only realized what had happened a second after it had already happened:

Silver’s longest hairs had shot out – extended – and ensnared the cord that the bulb overhead was connected to, then used it as an anchor to swing itself pass the vet and into the closet.

And at that moment, though Coco didn’t see it, one of the things it had snared sliced across Dr. Thermo’s jugular.

Blood sprayed the white wall as Dr. Thermo staggered back, looking more surprised than pained as she put her hoof against the cut.

Coco shrieked and ran, swiping a cloth she spotted in the corner of her vision. “Oh, Faust! Oh… oh no!”

Dr. Thermo carefully sat down, her brow furrowed as she took the cloth and pushed it to her throat. “I-I… didn’t quite expect that.”

Coco waved her hooves uselessly. “Wh-wh-what do I do? Get the receptionist?”

“Yes, could you?” The vet seemed remarkably calm given the situation. “It doesn’t feel like a deep cut. I think. Oh, the door.”

“The door?”

Dr. Thermo pointed to the door. Coco grabbed the handle and slammed it shut. She could hear noises going on beyond the barrier.

“My medical tools are in there,” Dr. Thermo said as she accepted Coco’s help in getting to her feet. “Scalpels, more needles – not the best place for that creature. Concerning us, I mean.”

Coco trembled with terror as she bore Dr. Thermo’s weight and head for the door.

She heard a new noise behind them and made the mistake of looking back.

Silvery strands of hair creeped out from the gap between the door and the ground. Light glittered from the myriad of sharp objects they were wrapped around. As Coco watched, the hairs joined up and wrapped into a ball, one that was approaching the size of one used for bowling.

Crying out in fear, Coco helped the vet out into the hallway and kicked the door shut. They made for reception, where the mare at the desk was only now taking her nose out of the magazine.

“What the hell happened?”

Dr. Thermo tried explaining, but Coco talked over her. “Please! Help me carry her. Th-there’s something-”

Then, Coco heard the skittering.

She only glanced over her shoulder, but it was enough: Silver was behind them, rolling along with its sharp surplus catching on the linoleum tiles – it was like a monstrous spider with hooked legs.

“No!”

The receptionist came around to look and gawked in horrified awe. “Holy shi-”

Silver’s hairs shot out and gripped the walls. It tensed, then flung itself like a slingshot.

Coco squealed in terror and pushed Dr. Thermo to the ground, instinctively throwing herself over like a shield. She squeezed her eyes shut and waited for the bite of her flesh being cut, but it never came.

Instead, Coco heard a strangled gurgle.

She lifted her head in time to see a lock of silver vanish down the receptionist’s gullet. Coco’s jaw dropped in horror as the mare blinked, seemingly shell-shocked.

She coughed.

Her hoof went to her stomach.

She coughed again, a ribbon of bloody spittle sticking to her chin.

Her eyes stretched wide as possible, losing focus.

There was a hideous crack from within her body.

And she collapsed on her side, unmoving and unseeing.

Coco whimpered, barely keeping herself together as she urged Dr. Thermo to get back up. “Hurry, hurry, please hurry…”

Dr. Thermo’s face was pale. The cloth on her neck was damp. “Ungh, what happened?”

“We have to go.”

The receptionist jolted.

“We have to go now!”

Coco helped the vet limp pass the receptionist’s body. There were more cracks and pops coming from her. Blood started seeping from her nostrils and mouth.

Halfway to the door, there was a wet tearing of meat.

Coco swallowed the bile as she heard a sinister scrape and knew that it was the sound of bones being sharpened against metal.








“Ooh, that one was more to my tastes!” Pinkie giggled. “And I mean that in the most non-creepy way possible.”

“Is there such a thing?” Rainbow Dash’s eyebrows went up.

“It’s different from your first story, too. It’s a lot more dark.”

“I hope that’s okay,” Fluttershy said. “There was going to be a happier ending, but I think this one suits it more.”

“Interesting choice to leave it ambiguous,” Starlight added. “The story with the dog had a conclusion, even if we don’t know why it was able to talk, but this one has a lot more speculation. Did the mare escape from the creature following her? What happened to the vet afterwards? Did they find a way to dispose of the creature?”

“Lettin’ yer imagination fill in th’ blanks can be scary, too,” Applejack nodded. “Sometimes, a horror story just needs to be enough to set an ‘idea’ of what could happen an’ yer head does th’ rest.”

Twilight sighed wistfully. “Isn’t the mind just so fascinating?”

“It is~” Starlight agreed with starry eyes.

Rainbow Dash snorted. “Jeez, well, while you eggheads are swapping spit with your brain cells and synapses, I’ll be here telling my second story of the night.”

“Did you hear that, Twilight? She said ‘synapses’.”

“Oh, Starlight, our little pegasus is taking our lessons to heart!”

“Ha, ha – you two are so hilarious.”
> 10th Candle
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Timber wolf attacks on pegasi were exceedingly rare due to obvious reasons. Even when they did happen, it was usually no more than a bite or a scratch that needed to be cleaned and wrapped for a few days.

Because of this, Flitter did not pay much mind when Cloudchaser came home with a cut on her foreleg. She was worried, of course, but it was a wound that could have come from an irritated cat at first glance, and Cloudchaser assured her it didn’t hurt.





“So, I forgot to ask, but how did you manage to get close enough to a timber wolf for it to bite you?” Flitter asked the next morning while they were prepping for work.

Cloudchaser took a seat at the table with a plate of buttered toast. “You see some rare sights flying at night; I noticed a timber wolf lying at the edge of the Everfree. I thought it was dead or something since it wasn’t moving, so I flew down to grab a branch and show it to you.”

Flitter joined her at the table. “How would I know it’s not just a regular stick?”

“I didn’t think it entirely through…” Cloudchaser shrugged. “Anyway, as soon as I got close, it jumped up, swiped me, then ran back into the forest,” She showed her bandaged foreleg. “I was too surprised to notice the cut until I was heading home.”

“Jeez.”

“It looked like there was something wrong with it, too,” Cloudchaser put her hoof under chin as she mused. “I mean, maybe. I’m not an expert on timber wolves.”

“Well, how did it look? Rotten? Termites?”

“It was covered in greenish sap.”

Flitter took a bite from some toast and frowned as she chewed. “Shur gedded luhkd ad.”

“Get it looked at, huh? Yeah, maybe. Also, swallow before you talk – that’s gross,” Flitter did and watched Cloudchaser pick at her toast for a bit. “Yeah, maybe I’ll go after work.”

“You should go now,” Flitter huffed. “Remember how you said you’d ‘go after work’ with that rash on your-”

“Yes, yes, I know!” Cloudchaser snapped, her face turning red.

“And I had to help rub in the ointment.”

“I get it! I really will go first thing after work – promise.”

“Okay. I’m just looking out for you.”

“I know, I know. Thanks.”





Flitter went out for drinks with her co-workers after Cloudchaser reassured her for the twelfth time she would go to the hospital. She enjoyed her time and stayed out longer than she expected, seeing the sun starting to set when she happened to glance out the window of their favourite bar.

Remembering Cloudchaser, she called it quits and flew back to their cloud-home. She was a responsible drinker, so her flying was only slightly off and she had a pleasant buzz that put her in a good mood.

She made it home safely and found the door unlocked.

She stepped in and noticed Cloudchaser on the sofa, turned away.

“Hey, how did it go?”

No response.

Flitter blinked hard as she felt unease rising through the fog of her light inebriation. The lights were on, which was odd since Cloudchaser couldn’t sleep with them – she made that clear every time Flitter got up for a leak and left the bathroom light on.

“Hello? You okay?” Flitter trotted closer. “Hey!”

No response. Cloudchaser did not stir.

Flitter’s heart dropped into her stomach as she grabbed Cloudchaser’s shoulder. “Say something! Are you-”

Cloudchaser jolted and turned around, eyes wide with panic. “The hell?!”

After searching her face, Flitter sagged with relief. “You idiot. I can’t believe you scared me like that.”

“That’s my line!” Cloudchaser scowled and sat up, clutching her chest. “I thought you were a maniac coming to take my innocence.”

“Pfft, that’s long gone.”

“Screw you.”

Flitter sighed and let out a little chuckle. “Anyway, sorry about that. Really. So, what did the doctor say?”

“Right, the cut. So, I went in and got it checked, and they said it was harmless.”

“You’re good?”

“For the cut,” Cloudchaser grumbled. “Turns out I might be getting a cold.”

“From all your late-night flying, I bet,” Flitter took a step back – no sense in them both getting sick. “I noticed you were asleep with the lights on. How are you feeling?”

“Tired, mostly,” She yawned as if to emphasize it. “Kinda sore, but mainly just tired.”

“I’ll heat up some soup for you.”

“I’d appreciate it,” Cloudchaser grunted as she went back to lying down. “Could you get me a blanket, too?”

“Sure thing.”

“Thanks.”

Flitter walked to the kitchen, breathing another sigh of relief. At least that worked to sober her up fast.





The next day, Cloudchaser had to call in sick.

“This sucks,” She moaned from her little cocoon of blankets; only her face could be seen – sweaty, flushed, and miserable. “Being sick sucks.”

“Poor baby,” Flitter pushed the coffee table in front of the couch Cloudchaser had laid claim to. She had layered it with assorted foods – healthy, much to Cloudchaser’s horror – and drinks. “This should keep you tied over until I get back. And no, I’m not making a toilet for you here – that’s against cloud-building regulations.”

“Bastards.”

“You’ll make it through.”

“Barely. Hard times for me.”

Flitter rolled her eyes. “I’m going to work now. See you later.”

“Byyyye…”





“Honey, I’m home!”

There was a nasally cough. “Darn, my cold was just getting better, too.”

“Does that mean you were feeling worse?”

“Shuddup, I’m sick.”

Flitter approached the couch, noticing that almost all the drinks were gone. The food was untouched, though. “You should eat something to get your…” She stopped suddenly and wrinkled her nose. “Ugh, what is that smell?”

Cloudchaser’s eyes widened in alarm. “I’m not that sick that I can’t get up for the bathroom!”

“No, it’s… bleh…” Flitter pinched her muzzle. “It’s so sweet!”

“Sweet?”

“You don’t smell that?”

Cloudchaser sniffed the air. “Nope. Bit of an issue with that, though.”

Flitter leaned in, braving the pungent scent that made her taste buds writhe in disgust. “… Show me your cut.”

“What?”

“Just… show me.”

Cloudchaser gave a put-upon sigh and sat up with some effort. She revealed her bandaged foreleg and started to unwound the wraps. “You’re worrying over nothing.”

The smell was getting stronger.

The last of the wraps fell away, showing Cloudchaser’s perfectly normal foreleg, save for a small patch of bare skin with a cut running vertical – it was barely longer than an inch.

Cloudchaser gave her a ‘see?’ look.

Flitter coughed and touched Cloudchaser’s leg. “Then, where’s that smell coming fr-”

With a sickening squelch, a rectangular slab of meat peeled away and landed on the floor. Rivulets of greenish-red fluid dribbled downwards, and the muscles had a rough texture with blood vessels forming a leaf-like pattern.

Flitter’s voice caught in her throat. She struggled to form a sentence, but all that came out was a burst of vomit.

Cloudchaser’s face turned pale as stared at her leg. “Oh. Hey, c-could you m-maybe take me t-t-to the hospital?”





“You said she was fine! You sent her home!”

“Flitter, please calm down.”

“Part of her arm came off!”

“I understand this-”

“She was coughing up twigs when we got here!”

“I understand this a shock, but we’re doing everything we can to figure this out.”

In the face of Nurse Redheart’s seemingly endless patience, Flitter’s panic and anger spluttered out. She collapsed into a nearby chair and started to cry.

“H-how is this even h-happening?” She could barely get the words out through her breathless sobs and only vaguely registered Redheart rubbing her back. “Timber wolves don’t do this!”

“I’ve never heard of anything like this either,” Redheart admitted. “Twilight and her friends are on their way right now. I’m certain they’ll be able to do something.”

Flitter supposed if anypony could fix this, it would be the Bearers of the Elements, but she wasn’t entirely reassured. She had seen the extent of… whatever was afflicting Cloudchaser and it didn’t look like something easily fixed with a blast of happy magic.

If it came from the Everfree, then maybe…





A few months back, Mayor Mare had a PSA concerning the location of Zecora’s hut, for the rare chance one of Ponyville’s citizens found themselves lost in the Everfree. Flitter hadn’t thought much of it at the time, but now she was thanking Mother Faust because there was no way to find Zecora’s home from sky; the canopy was just too thick. Flitter had to go ground level and look for the signs they put up.

It took longer than she liked, but Flitter eventually found herself in Zecora’s home, trotting about restlessly and hating how the tribal masks hung up on the walls mocked her with their leers and rictuses.

“What you speak of is familiar to me,” Zecora had her back to Flitter and was stirring a huge cauldron full of murky liquid. “My home has such tales, horrid as they may be.”

“Well, what is it?!”

Zecora looked over her shoulder. “Magic from two of a kind, intertwining body and mind. I know not the reason nor cause of this curse, but what is important is that we stop this before it becomes worse.”

Flitter wanted to shout at her calmness. “Tell me!”

“This will not be an easy task, but bring me the beast that did this, and do it fast.”

“Bring you the…?! How am I supposed to find it?” Flitter grabbed her head. “What if it bites me? I-I can’t…! Oh Faust, my chest!”

Zecora thrust a clay bowl of something under her muzzle. The smell was so pungent and thick that Flitter recoiled with a cry.

But she could think and breathe clearly again.

“… Okay. I-I’ll try.”

Zecora put the bowl aside and grabbed something else – a strange potted plant with two white stalks and red-tinted leaves sprouting from it.

“The beast’s magic dwells within the poor mare; bring this plant to her, let it taste her aura, and where you follow its leaves, you will find the creature there.”

Flitter didn’t understand, but she’d take anything. “Okay. Got it.”





The hospital wasn’t allowing anypony to see Cloudchaser for fear of contamination, but Flitter chose the right time to come back – the Element bearers were also present, and their word was enough to let her in. Flitter explained what she learned at Zecora’s, and Twilight told Fluttershy and Rainbow Dash to help while they went to see if there was anything else to do at the library.

Flitter hesitantly entered Cloudchaser’s room and suppressed a sob. “… Hi.”

Cloudchaser didn’t seem conscious, but she stirred and coughed wetly – dollops of green sap spilled onto her chin. “Flitter?” One bloodshot eye rolled in her direction. “Hey, how’s it going?”

“Terrible.”

“Well, looking like that, can’t say it’s a surprise.”

“Look who’s talk…” Flitter trailed off. She sniffed and came closer, holding out the plant. “Uh, Ze-Zecora said that this will help, so I’m just gonna…” She watched as the plant’s leaves twitched, darkened to purple, and simultaneously leaned in the opposite direction. Whichever way she turned the pot, they corrected themselves. “Yes! Okay, I’m gonna… It’ll be okay, Cloudchaser.”

Cloudchaser grinned weakly, splinters poking out from her gums. “Promise?”

“Promise.”





Flitter, Fluttershy, and Rainbow Dash made it to the forest easily enough. The plant pointed them in the right direction, but as they landed in a clearing, the leaves started waving all around.

“What the heck does that mean?” Rainbow Dash cried.

Fluttershy looked around and grimaced. “There’s… sap everywhere.”

Flitter examined their surroundings and noticed a green substance clinging to the plants, trees, and even making marks on the earth. She could smell that sickening sweetness again.

“It has to be around here somewhere,” Flitter licked her lips nervously. “I don’t… We should stick together.”

Rainbow Dash nodded. “Yeah, I agree.”

“An-and whatever you do, do not let it scratch you.”

“Got it.”

Flitter wasn’t ashamed to say that she let Rainbow Dash take the lead. This was a mare who had faced countless threats before, so it just seemed natural to let her make the decisions.

They rounded the clearing, then started cutting into the brush. There was sap everywhere and Flitter’s eyes were watering; she could hear Fluttershy trying to muffle her coughing.

It was eerily quiet.

Minutes later, she didn’t know how many, Rainbow Dash suddenly stopped. Turning, she put her hoof to her lips and gestured for them to go prone.

Slowly, they crawled forward.

Rainbow Dash stopped once more and carefully parted some leaves that were in her way.

She was quiet and still for a long time.

Finally, Flitter couldn’t bear it and whispered, “What is it?”

Rainbow Dash turned around – she looked sick and grey. “Maybe you should stay back.”

Flitter’s insides turned cold. Ignoring Rainbow Dash’s protests, she pushed her way forward and looked through the gap in the foliage.

When the realization of what she was looking at hit, her world started spinning and she had to put her head down and swallow the bile that rose in her gullet.

“Th-th-that’s…”

Rainbow Dash nodded. “I know.”

“What is it?” Fluttershy asked.

Flitter could not answer. She trembled violently as she looked up against the advice of the voice in her head.

A misshapen grey and brown form, barely quadrupedal, convulsed and gurgled underneath the shadow of a great tree. Its flesh was a repulsive mix of flesh grafted into a bark-like exterior. There were two knobs on its back that were cracked to allow scraggly feathers to poke through.

But what really broke Flitter was that its face was recognizable, and it conveyed pure anguish and bestial terror.

The sounds were half a yelp and half a moan of agony.

Flitter shivered and closed her eyes. “Magic from two of a kind; intertwining body and mind…”

“What?”

“Nothing,” Flitter inhaled deeply. “Come on – let’s get it.”





Between the three of them, they were able to airlift the tormented creature out of the forest by using a large blanket as a canvas. The creature seemed to be in too much suffering to put up a fight, but the way it twitched and cried frayed Flitter’s fragile composure.

“Amost there…” Rainbow Dash said. Indeed, Ponyville hospital was in view. “Zecora’s meeting with us, so it should be smooth flying now.”

As they got closer, Flitter realized that wasn’t true.

Zecora, Twilight, Rarity, Pinkie, and few of the hospital’s staff were gathered outside, forming an unsteady ring around a thrashing and crying figure.

Flitter’s pupils shrunk to pinpricks. “Cloudchaser!!”

“Shit!” Rainbow Dash clenched her teeth. “Hold it steady!”

She barely had the sense for that and when it was safely on the ground, she bolted forward, pushing through the ring and stopping in front of the snarling hybrid.

“Cloudchaser, I promised I’d help you, remember? I made a promise!”

Thick plates of bark covered most of her face and her muzzle was more lupine than equine, but a semblance of recognition and clarity flashed through those bloodshot eyes. Cloudchaser’s movements became less erratic as she met Flitter’s gaze.

“Yeah, you… you remember, don’t you?” Flitter smiled weakly and extended her hoof. “Please… let us help you. W-we can be together again, but you have to trust me.”

Puffs of steam left Cloudchaser’s open maw. She started to whine/cry.

“Cloudchaser…”

Yellow light enveloped Cloudchaser’s eyes as she shrieked and charged.

Flitter was too shocked to do anything but stare as in her peripheral, Twilight lit her horn in a blinding flash.





“Flitter, close your mouth when you eat – it’s gross.”

“Oh. Yeah.”

The grey pegasus sitting across from her frowned. “Hey, you okay? Something bothering you?”

“… No. Just tired,” Flitter glued a smile on her face. “Seriously, it’s nothing to stress over.”

The grey pegasus didn’t believe her – Flitter could see it in her eyes – but said nothing as she finished her toast and went to wash her plate.

Flitter’s smile fell as she stared through her food.

Twilight still avoided her, which Flitter was thankful for. She knew why the unicorn did it, but hate remained in her heart and made it difficult to see reason and forgive. It would come to her soon, she just needed more time.

But how much time would she need to see this creature as Cloudchaser?

A few days after the last traces of Cloudchaser had been turned to ash, the creature completed its transformation. It walked around wearing her face, speaking in her voice, holding its memories – everything from birth to the night when Cloudchaser got scratched. It didn’t remember anything after that.

Convenient.

Zecora and the others wanted to destroy it, but Flitter stopped them. In her grief and anger, she begged them to let it be Cloudchaser, even going so far as to saying that Twilight owed her that much.

Flitter regretted those words and hoped for the day she could look Twilight in the eye, apologize, and truly mean it.

She hoped things could go back to normal. She hoped she could pretend Cloudchaser was still there. She hoped everything that happened was just a horrible dream.

“Welp, I’m ready for work!” The grey pegasus turned around, smiling just like Cloudchaser used to. “Hey, wanna get some drinks afterwards? My treat.”

Flitter plastered on another smile and clung onto hope. “Yeah. Sounds great.”








“Nice story,” Applejack said. “Not so much of a happy ending this time around, huh?”

“Like I said, it’s scarier not knowing how it’s gonna go.” Rainbow Dash got up to blow out a candle.

“So, when does the spooky stuff happen, Twily?” Pinkie asked. “I mean, I love spending time with you girls and I’m enjoying these scary stories, but I was hoping for some of the good classic stuff, you know?”

“Don’t expect too much – Kaidan is an old myth, after all,” Twilight popped some candy in her mouth and checked them off her list. “Mm. Allegedly, not much happens until the final tale is told and the last candle is snuffed out.”

“What happens after that?”

“The spirits are released from the mirror. Allegedly.”

Trixie waved her hoof in circles. “Yes, yes – eternal damnation and endless suffering in store for us when that happens, Trixie has heard it all before. Much of it directed at her when her magic shows don’t go quite as planned.”

Fluttershy looked concerned. “Where have you been putting on your shows?”

“Backwater towns full of bumpkins.”

Applejack mulled that over for a minute. “… Hey!”

“Don’t worry – you’re Trixie’s favourite bumpkins!”

“Oh well, I’m happier than a pig in mud, in that case…”
> 11th Candle
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

There was a corridor in Canterlot castle.

If Twilight walked down that corridor alone, then as she passed the midway point towards the end, she would hear a whimper.

It only happened once per day, but it happened without fail should she ever go down that corridor alone. When magic and tools failed to find the source, Twilight would have somepony with her to keep the sound at bay.

A whimper, even a disembodied one she could not find, normally would not frighten her, but the sound carried feelings of grief and pain that resonated in Twilight’s heart as if it were her own.

It was not a corridor that saw much use anyway; there were other paths to take to get where she needed to be.





There was a mirror in Canterlot castle.

If Twilight looked into it late at night, the bottom-left corner would fog up as if somepony had breathed on it. Wiping the mirror did nothing as it came from the other side, even though that was scientifically impossible.

It did not happen all the time, but it was enough of an occurrence that Twilight could predict it six times out of ten. Again, magic and tools failed to find the source and like the corridor, she could not prove it existed – it simply did not happen if somepony was nearby.

This alone was cause for alarm, but what Twilight dreaded were the feelings of bitterness and spite that scorched her veins as they flowed through to her heart. Every point in her life when she felt envious would coalesce, then retreat, leaving her emotionally exhausted in the span of one second.

Twilight avoided the bathroom mirror in the guest room she used when she stayed overnight at the castle as much as she could.





There was a chair in Canterlot castle.

If Twilight sat in it, she would hear a jarring crack like a stick of celery being snapped and feel a knot in her neck.

There was nothing to distinguish the plain chair from the countless others in the castle, and the cleaning ponies would move them around as they wished – Celestia did not mind so long as they did not look out of place. Every time Twilight came to the castle for her studies on a new day, she would be on edge, wondering which chair was the one she despised. It was almost a relief when she sat in it. Almost. From what she could tell, nopony else seemed to experience what she did when they sat in it.

Along with the neck pain, Twilight would feel a crushing sense of misery and desperation. It was all she could do to keep herself composed for the six seconds it took for the emotions to leave her body.

Twilight got used to sitting on anything but the chairs and standing when there was nothing.





There was a knife in Canterlot castle.

If Twilight so much as caught a glimpse of it, her face would grow hot and it felt as if there was something sticky coating her face.

Like the chair, there was nothing remarkable about the knife at first glance – it was a seemingly ordinary piece of silverware used to cut into one’s meal. Twilight took it home one night and carried out test after test but ended up with nothing. She secretly returned it the following morning.

Twilight had to be careful with this one – the rage and indignation that came with spotting the knife was potent and lasted for a full minute, during which she felt like she capable of doing anything to anypony. Not even the serene face of Celestia could banish the dark thoughts. Twilight found that Cadance’s breathing exercises helped, so she did those as much as she could until the storm passed.

After trying to live with it, Twilight ended up tossing it into the trash when nopony was looking.

It somehow ended up back in the kitchen.





There was a statue in the castle’s garden.

No, not the one of the strange creature that seemed to be in the middle of a hearty laugh, it was the one of a normal pony carrying a flag. Once, Twilight looked out the window from an upper floor of the castle and saw the statue swaying its head as if it were flesh and blood.

The statue was made to commemorate one of Equestria’s explorers, a mare named Long Journey. Long Journey died rather suddenly one bright morning after mentioning that she had a dream of her demise a week prior.

Twilight did not feel anything from the statue and was not sure if that was because she was so far away.

It only happened one time a year ago.





It all became too much one day, and she spilled her woes to Celestia when they were in private and sipping tea.

Celestia was quiet for a while, then told her of a building in Canterlot.

It was a tailor shop, unremarkable in appearance but coveted for the owner’s skill with fabric repairs, and every time Celestia went there, she could see the pale face of a colt staring out the upper window.

He never moved or blinked and just stared into space. Celestia was the only one who could see him, and he was not there when she went up to check. She asked the owner about it, and the owner looked confused as he told her how his grandmother lost a child in utero.

Celestia felt a strong sense of longing and regret, though it only lasted for half a minute.

When she was done speaking, Twilight asked why this was happening.

Celestia called them ‘echoes’ – remnants of a pony’s emotions that clung onto something significant to them. They were not ghosts because that implied some measure of consciousness or motive. No, they were more like ghosts of ghosts – they existed simply to exist, no different from a table or a brick keeping a house from collapsing.

A very rare selection of ponies could sense these echoes; Celestia was one of them, perhaps one of the first, and it was apparent that Twilight was one, too. There was no reason why they had this trait, nor was there any way to treat it.

But Celestia reassured her that you learned to numb yourself to the echoes’ influence.





There was a book in Ponyville’s library.

Twilight read it one evening and when she turned to page fifty-four, the pages were scrubbed clean and replaced with drawings of mares and fillies of all ages.

The book was a hardcover written by a renowned – now deceased – author who was lauded for his talent in capturing the essence of a location through words alone and admired for his rugged charm and sense of morality.

Twilight felt a tremendous surge of desire and anger when she looked at the pictures.

She kept the book in a drawer to gather dust.





There was a street in Ponyville.

Twilight saw too many anomalies to count.

The street was paved decades ago by many labourers, just in time for a deadly illness to strike the small town.

There were too many emotions to speak of; Twilight almost fainted as her body struggled to deal with the sensory overload.

She could do nothing but avoid it.





There were many things in the world that contained echoes.

Twilight learned to live with them and how to shield her spirit against their emotional surges.

Yet, at that point, she was starting to wonder why only the echoes existed and there were no true ghosts that lingered after death.

Celestia was quiet for a long time when Twilight asked, then finally responded:

“Perhaps because there is nothing after death.”








Starlight was met with stares and silence.

“I-I’m sorry! I tried my best, but-”

“Oh no! It was fine,” Twilight said quickly. “Um, well, it was just…”

“Freaky,” Rainbow Dash offered, her wings flexing. “Like, I’m actually surprised at how much that freaked me out.”

Starlight blinked. “Really? You girls thought it was scary?”

“A different kind of scary.” Fluttershy murmured.

“It imparts a sense of deep dread, does it not?” Rarity added. “Fear of inevitability, perhaps?”

“For me, it’s th’ idea tha’ something tha’ I’ve thought of as true my whole life might not be true,” Applejack leaned back and hummed. “An’ it ain’t like it’s a ‘small’ something – it’s something I hold dear ‘cause… well, if it ain’t true, then th’ world jes’ got a whole heap more terrifyin’.”

“Trixie is unnerved at the idea that everyday items she uses could be holding spirits,” Trixie shrugged. “Or, whatever it was those things in your story were supposed to be.”

Starlight rubbed her neck. “Gosh, I’m surprised that you all think that. Not that I’m disappointed, mind you. Anyway, I’ll go blow out that candle…”

Twilight performed her scheduled list-check. “Going off subject, but I think I might have found a solution to Trixie’s rampant liquorice consumption which will get us back on track.”

“Sugarcube, jes’ give it up.”

“Trixie agrees.”

Twilight sighed. “But Applejack, she's eaten sixteen as opposed to-”

“Twi', she's gonna eat as much of it as she’s gonna.”

“Trixie agrees.”

“So, let her be fat and happy.”

“Trixie- Hey!”
> 12th Candle
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

It all started on the day she was born, which was also the day she almost died.

Granny Smith, who had been present for the birth, recalled how shortly after being brought into the world, Applejack’s shrill cries were cut short as several of her bones were fractured.

Granny described it as somepony going ham on bubble wrap, but it was the most haunting and terrible sound she’d ever heard.

Miraculously, she somehow survived. The doctors kept her monitored and under careful observation, performing test after test to find out why this newborn’s bones would inexplicably break barely a minute after taking her first breath.

A week later, they discovered the cause.

A young Applejack dashed through the orchard – well, as much of a ‘dash’ as she was able to do – with an excited grin spread across her face. She could see the figure in the distance pulling a wagon along the road.

“Pa!”

Pappy turned his head. Even at this distance, she could see his face twist in dread. “AJ, what are ya doin’? Slow down!”

His harsh tone hit her like a bucket of cold water and she immediately obeyed, though her enthusiasm did not wane in the slightest – so what if it took her a little longer to get to him?

“Pappy, guess what I did today?” Applejack put one leg in front of the other just like she had been taught. Each step caused a flare of discomfort deep in her bones, but she ignored it. “Big brother, um, Big Mac… he-he found this thing in th’ orchard an’ he gave it ta me an’ I made it inta somethin’ real pretty. Ya gotta come see it.”

Pappy smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Tha’s great, sugarcube. Here – let’s get ya up on this here wagon, huh?”

It was always fun to get carried by Pappy. He didn’t do it much since it hurt his back if he did it for too long, so each time he did was a treat.

Safe on the wagon, Applejack sat next to the sacks of barley and apples and hummed to herself as Pappy pulled them along. “Apples to th’ core, we’re family an’ so much mooooore~”

Pappy chuckled. “No matter what comes we fill face th’ weather~”

“We’re apples to th’-” Giddy with excitement, Applejack thrust her foreleg skywards.

Crack

There was the noise. And with the noise, the familiar pain accompanied it, that pain that hovered on the horizon whenever she made any sort of movement as if to remind her of her condition.

It felt like it was near the socket.

Pappy stopped. “Applejack, what was that?”

Applejack could not help but let a whimper slip through her lips. She could have probably hid it if she were able to clench her teeth together, but that might have popped another one out and inflicted more pain.

“Hold on – I’ll get us home soon!”

The wagon picked up speed, and Applejack laid down and made sure to relax fully, just as she had been taught to do by her parents and all those doctors and unicorns.

She looked over at her shoulder, even though it did nothing to help the pain, and through the tears she could see her flesh bulging as her dislocated bone pushed against it.

It was then in that moment, when she should have been singing a merry tune with Pappy after he finally came back from work in town, that she truly started to hate her body.

Thaum-Apple Muscle Disorder, or TAMD for short. There was a proper medical term for it, but that was what everypony called it to save time.

She was the first pony in history to have this disorder, so they named it after her. Ma and Pa didn’t argue since they were too distraught over their daughter’s future, but Applejack wished they did – the Apple family name should be synonymous with strength, not weakness.

It was this perspective that caused Applejack to consciously ignore the details about her condition, but it was talked about around her so much and she had so many tests done on her that some of it was chiselled into the wrinkles in her brain.

Bluntly put, the condition was due to a magical imbalance causing her body to produce extremely dense muscle fibres almost as soon as she was out of the womb.

Barely a minute old, Applejack almost died from the weight of her muscles crushing her small bones. She should have died, but thanks to the doctors and possibly a higher power, she survived.

“They’re too tight.”

“I know, sugarcube, I know,” Ma smiled sympathetically. “But they’ll help you walk, so just bear them, okay?”

Applejack stared morosely at the bindings keeping her legs stiff and straight. They were wound so tight it felt like they were cutting into her flesh. “For how long?”

Ma’s smiled waned. “… Hey, why don’t we go bake something?”

Applejack’s face lit up. “Yeah!”

Her and Ma trotted into the kitchen. Indeed, Applejack felt the difference; her body wasn’t aching so much and her slow gait was due to unfamiliarity with the bindings. They hurt, but Ma said they wouldn’t cut off her blood flow.

“What do you think we should make, sugarcube?”

“Apple pie!” Applejack announced.

Ma snickered. “What a shocker. Go get the beaker for me, would ya?”

“Got it!”

They had two beakers they could use – one was in the lower cupboards, the other in the top. Applejack always got the lower one to avoid straining herself, but perhaps these new bindings would let her go without? The prospect excited her.

While Ma was busy with the stove, Applejack took a deep breath and rose on her hind legs, using the counter as a resthold for her front hooves. Immediately, the new position sent pain throughout her body: she could feel her over-developed muscles pressing down on her back, her ribs – she felt like a piece of wood in a vice grip.

It hurt, but she was so close that she could not bear the disappointment of having to reach for the bottom beaker or asking for help. She needed help so many times that she just wanted to do something on her own.

She could do this.

Applejack managed to get the cupboard open. The beaker was right there, just a little more.

She could do this.

Her right foreleg stretched. She could feel her muscles bulging; they would be trying to tear through her skin like tissue paper at this point, but the bindings kept them contained.

She could do this.

The beaker was so close. Applejack inhaled, set her mouth in a determined sneer, and reached that little bit more.

She could do this.

Her hoof touched the beaker-

And one of her baby teeth came loose from the pressure of her jaw muscles.

Applejack briefly went blind from the pain, but she managed to keep standing and avoid crying out. Her tooth jiggled around in her mouth amidst the wash of blood.

“Sugarcube, what on earth are ya doin’?!”

Ma’s shout of alarm set something off in Applejack. Before she could think, she swallowed the tooth and the blood and got back on all four hooves. She was practically shaking, but she managed to hide it and when she spoke, it was steady and strong.

“See, Ma? No problem.”

She turned with a closed-mouth smile. Faust, it hurt.

Ma didn’t seem to notice. She smiled, tears in her eyes, and that made all the pain worth it. “Oh, you’re such a strong pony, sugarcube.”

There was no way to treat her condition. She had to wait until her the rest of her body developed to the point where it was strong enough to resist the overwhelming force her muscles produced.

But it was a difficult time growing up, and not just for her.

Her parents, brother, and granny had to supervise at all times; any exertion her tiny body made ran the risk of dislocating or fracturing a bone, and the pain would cause her to thrash, which lead to more risks.

Doctors from all over Equestria came to see this medical anomaly for themselves; more than a few tried convincing her parents to give her up to a facility under the explanation that it would treat her better than they ever could. Ma and Pa stood their ground, tired and stressed and uncertain as they were.

Pa and Big Mac were really amazing to be able to buck down all those apples. She liked coming out with them and sitting on the side, even if it was just to watch. She needed to do it anyway, needed to know the proper form and technique when she got older and tougher.

Big Mac knocked down the apples from yet another tree, then looked over. “Say Applejack, why don’t ya’ll come over an’ give it a try?”

Applejack’s eyes widened. “Seriously? But my body…”

Big Mac grinned. “Well, don’t think ya should be buckin’ just yet, but I don’t think it can hurt to get a feel for it, right? Just come here an’ I’ll show ya how ta do it when ya get ‘round ta it.”

Ma and Pa’s warnings blared in her head, but Applejack was too excited to pay them heed. She carefully got up and walked over to stand by her brother.

“Ready!”

He nodded. “Alright, now put yer back legs like this.”

She copied him.

“Good?”

“Yep, I’m feelin’ right.”

“Now, ya wanna move yer keister, so it’s like this. Got it?”

“Like this?”

“Little more to th’ side. Perfect. Now, all ya gotta do is lean forward, put all yer weight on yer front legs, then kick out.”

Applejack watched him do it. She didn’t try it herself, much as she wanted to. “An’ tha’s all there is ta it?” Big Mac nodded. “Shoot – tha’ looks a lot easier than I thought.”

“Still gotta learn ‘bout th’ trees an’ how hard ya need ta kick dependin’ on th’ amount of apples, but yeah, it’s pretty simple.”

Applejack looked up at the tree’s branches. “Think ya missed one.”

He hummed in confusion, then chuckled. “See? Can always get better,” He assumed the ‘bucking’ position once more. “Ya seen how Pa does it? Every one, every time.”

Applejack nodded. “He’s amazin’.”

WHACK

Applejack took one step forward and held her hoof out. The apple landed in her grasp. “Mm-mm, this looks like good eati-”

And then her vision was obscured by a leathery, furry body.

Her first thought was ‘vampire bat’. They weren’t a huge problem like they were back in the day, Pa said, but a few stragglers lingered around like a bad smell. Some were daring enough to attack those that came to buck down their favourite food, though they carried no harmful diseases and were too weak to do much to a pony.

But even with this information in mind, Applejack’s self-preservation instincts flared and she ignored her brother’s advice to hold still to lift her foreleg and swing it with all her might.

CRACK

That was the sound of the bat shooting into the trunk of a tree and splitting apart in a burst of gore, and it was the sound of her foreleg breaking.

Applejack yelped as she found herself falling. Already dazed from the bat’s sudden assault and the pain, she put her other leg out to catch herself.

CRACK

And there went the other leg; she could see it bending to one side unnaturally.

The pain was excruciating; she barely heard what Big Mac was saying as she hyperventilated, her ribs creaking in protest as they, too, threatened to break.

“Fuck!” Applejack howled, tears sliding down her cheeks. “I’m sick of this!”

“Sis’…”

“I’m sick of bein’ looked after all th’ time, Big Mac! I wanna do somethin’ like you an’ Pa!”

“Just hold on – I’ll get help. Remember your breathing exercises.”

Applejack ignored him and sobbed as her frustrations spilled over. She’d pay for it later on with tender ribs, but it was so good to finally let it all out.

The doctors all called her a medical marvel.

Applejack felt caged by her own traitorous body and ashamed of it as well.

The Apple family took pride in their fortitude and work; they tended to the land better than any earth pony alive and they made the best food because of that. For her to be so helpless as to need supervision and assistance with most basic of tasks was an unbearable shame. She felt like a burden because of it.

On days when it all became too much, Applejack would lie in bed and intentionally flex her muscles. She would place immense pressure on her bones until the pain made her leak tears and she could feel her skeleton groaning in protest.

“Then get stronger if it hurts,” She murmured to herself darkly. “Stop bein’ so weak.”

It felt like she had another pony’s skeleton – a weaker pony’s, a pony that was no Apple. It was irrational and dangerous, and she knew this on some level, but it was the only she could vent her frustrations because there was no way in Tartarus she’d be even more of a burden to her family.

Because of her condition, she didn’t leave the farm until she was twelve. At that point in her life, her body was tough enough to permit walking for long periods of time so long as she took frequent rests.

Seeing new faces for the first time was incredible, and Applejack barely noticed the odd looks and whispers. The townsponies knew of the farm girl with the overdeveloped muscles and seemed a little disappointed that she didn’t look as freakish as they envisioned – she seemed to be just an average filly.

A few local kids caught her while her parents were distracted and dared her to crush a stone in her hooves. She refused and was subsequently made fun of:

Your condition isn’t real, they said, you just want to ditch school.

But that couldn’t be further from the truth: Applejack dreamed of being able to go to school with the other kids.

“Applejack, ya need ta stop this.”

“I’m old enough, Big Mac. My body can handle it now.”

“But not fer too long. Take a break.”

“There’s still more trees ta buck. I can’t just-”

“Ma and Pa wouldn’t want ya ta do this.”

“Well, they ain’t here now, are they?”

“…”

“Sorry. I’ll… Lemme just do one more tree an’ I’ll take a breather, okay?”

“Eeyup.”

Time, as it did with many things, made it better. Eventually, the rest of her body toughened enough to allow her to do strenuous activity, but she still had to take precautions. She had to take supplements – recently developed – that made her muscles lethargic and she had to go to a hypnotist to place a mental block that kept her from exerting herself.

For the first time in her life, she could function as a somewhat normal pony of society.

Ma and Pa would have been so proud of her.

Rainbow Dash had been grinning smugly when they were wrestling with their forelegs.

She didn’t know.

She didn’t know the strain Applejack had been under trying her hardest while simultaneously battling the mental blocks that kept her from trying her hardest.

That smug grin haunted her even after the Running of the Leaves.

That damn pegasus just didn’t know how lucky she was to be able to go all out whenever she wanted. She didn’t have to live with the fear that at any point her skin might split apart and her bones would splinter and her organs would be pulped.

“Say, Rainbow Dash – how ‘bout we try hoof-wrestling again?”

Applejack had a lapse in judgement.

“Sure, if you wanna lose again.”

No, she knew exactly what she was doing.

She and Rainbow Dash sat in front of a barrel and locked their hooves over it. Applejack’s blood felt like acid coursing through her veins as all she could focus on was that damn smirk on Rainbow Dash’s face.

“Ready?”

“Ready!”

She told herself that she would only go far enough to firmly cement the fact that she was the stronger one. She felt that, after everything she’d been through in her life, she earned that much at least.

And when Rainbow Dash tried to push her hoof down, Applejack broke through her mental barriers and pushed-

CRACK

There was that sound again.

There was that pain again.

But none of it really registered as Applejack stared, transfixed, at the jagged spire of bone jutting out from the split in Rainbow Dash’s leg.

Not even Rainbow Dash seemed to believe it because the last thing in her eyes before they went dull was confusion.








“That was… rather inspirational, actually.”

Pinkie’s head seemed to swirl around twice as she blinked at Rarity. “Huh? No, it wasn’t! It’s a horror! Didn’t you hear the parts about her body twisting and breaking, and isn’t it terrifying to imagine yourself in that position?”

“True,” Rarity nodded. “But I admire the way the main character kept on striving even with her terrible condition.”

“I have to agree with Rarity.” Twilight interjected.

As more agreements chimed in, Pinkie’s jaw fell. “N-no way… How could I have been so easily defeated?!”

“You know…” Starlight hummed. “The purpose of a horror story is to scare, obviously, but that doesn’t mean it can’t also have another purpose. Many horror stories branched off legends and superstitions, which were often used to warn communities of dangers.”

“Are you calling my tale educational?” Pinkie shuddered as she slinked off to blow out a candle. “Kick me while I’m down…”

Rarity shrugged as everypony snickered non-maliciously. “I am not saying I didn’t find it scary, dear. I am saying I did not just find it scary. Now, unless anypony objects, I believe it is my turn to tell a tale…”
> 13th Candle
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Pinkie Pie was the best party planner in Ponyville, maybe even in all of Equestria. She would not let anything or anyone stop her from throwing parties if there was a face that needed a smile put on it or a disposition that needed lifting. Joy was one of those odd things where it wasn’t required for living – like food or water or air or having all your blood inside your body – but it was barely ‘living’ if you didn’t have it.

Knowing this and how important joy was, Pinkie took it upon herself – not just as the Element of Laughter, but as Pinkie Pie – to try her best to make everyone smile no matter the situation.

Even when it was as dark as one like this.

Pinkie’s attention shifted from her musings as she saw Cheerilee. She stopped, smiled, and drew a circle against her chest before pushing her hooves out.

“Hello. You’re doing great.”

Cheerilee’s eyes were darker than they were yesterday, but she smiled and returned the gesture, mouthing the words.

“You’re doing great.”

Since the Ear appeared, it was risky to let conversations carry on for too long, if they called even be called ‘conversations’ – missing a key component for that kind of a thing to happen.

But they made do.

Pinkie waved Cheerilee goodbye and carried on towards her destination.

Thankfully, the Ear’s power only applied to certain sounds, so Pinkie was free to bounce wherever she pleased. She liked to think the boing-boing-boing was in some way comforting amidst a town so used to noise but now restricted to near-complete silence.

Pinkie found herself at the library in no time. She glanced at the sign posted on the door’s frame.

If there was ever a time to obey the golden rule of a library, then it is preferably now. For everypony’s sake, PLEASE KEEP QUIET!!

The limit on ponies inside a public building STILL APPLIES – NO MORE THAN 15!

Pinkie opened the door and went inside. The smell of paper filled her nostrils as she surveyed the room for anything new to get excited about – nothing – then walked over to the checkout desk.

Spike was holding the fort down. Again. He looked up at her tiredly and shook his head.

“She’s at it again.”

Pinkie told him he was doing great, then gestured to the basement door.

“Can I go down?”

Spike nodded and went back to using his arms as a pillow.

Twilight wouldn’t be happy about that, but there were even less ponies coming to the library and he looked tired. Pinkie decided to keep quiet about him – not too hard, ha ha!

She went to the basement, opened the door, and went down the stairs. Reaching the lower floor, she could see how cluttered and disorganized everything was – not the ‘organized chaos’ that was Rarity’s room, but the ‘I’ve got more important things to do than worry about appearances’ kind of messy.

Twilight was at one of her work desks looking at a truly spectacular piece of complicated equipment and a puzzle piece of lab apparatuses. Her mane was frizzy and unbrushed and there was a rather… sweaty smell to the lab.

Pinkie almost called out to her, but stopped in time, thank Faust. She stomped her feet as she walked over.

No response.

Pinkie blew air through her nostrils and chose to walk around to the other side of the table. She had to be careful to not startle Twilight and make her produce a vocal noise.

A few lab beakers were filled with mysterious liquids; Pinkie swore the purple one was the same from three days ago when she was last down here. She peered through the glass and stuck her tongue out at Twilight’s warped image.

Twilight’s bloodshot eyes finally focused on her and she blinked rapidly, fortunately maintaining her silence. She shook her head and rubbed at her eyes before coming around the desk and giving a ghost of a smile.

“Hello. You’re doing great.”

Pinkie returned it, then gave a theatre-worthy shrug.

“How is the research going?”

Twilight lit her horn and levitated a notebook and pen over. She started to write.

If you’re wondering about the research, then I’ve made some progress, but nothing completely conclusive.”

Pinkie nodded. She pointed to the notebook, then at herself. Twilight gave her the pen.

You know, it’s your birthday tomorrow! I was thin

Twilight shook her head before Pinkie could finish. She took the pen back.

I’m too busy. It’s not the time or place for a party.

Pinkie, in a rare moment of anger, snatched the pen and the notebook. She held the book to her chest to guard it until she was finished.

You need a break. You’re exhausted. I’ve got way more energy than you, but if I try throwing parties when I’m tired, it doesn’t go well. You work better when you’re rested. Please, Twilight, I’m worried about you.

Twilight slapped the book away with a growl. A second later, she realized her mistake and lit her horn to grab it. She wrote, her writing getting sloppy.

I cant jus stop Pinkie im the only one in the vllage that cn do this!

Pinkie took a deep breath. This usually wasn’t her role – she wasn’t usually the voice of reason when she was with Twilight, but the Ear changed a lot of things.

She gently took the pen back.

Do you know what day it is? When did you last eat? Do you know how Spike is doing?

Pinkie watched Twilight’s face as it softened, creased, then crumpled. Twilight put her hoof against her mouth and breathed in and out through her nose.

Pinkie stepped forward and hugged her, grimacing. Faust, she wanted to tell Twilight it was okay to cry, but right now, it just wasn’t – not full-out crying anyway. The silent holding-it-in-with-tears-flowing crying was fine, but that wasn’t healthy in her opinion.

Twilight trembled in her hold for a few minutes before calming down. She took a step back, wiped her face, and nodded.

Okay, I’ll take a small break.

Pinkie’s smile came back full-force. Little things – they were easily missed, and it was a travesty when you didn’t take joy in them because they did add up.

She made sure to get a Pinkie Promise from Twilight that she would take a break, then set off to gather what she needed for the surprise party.

Well… it wasn’t much of a surprise party when you tell the special pony what to expect, where to expect it, and when, but the Ear changed a lot of things.





The Ear had a misleading name; Pinkie would have just named it ‘Weird Tree’, but apparently a lot of ponies thought the hole in its trunk was in the shape of a pony’s ear, so it stuck.

It mysteriously appeared two weeks ago right smack dab in the middle of Ponyville. It was two stories tall, barren, and had a gnarled, creepy look, but the odd part was that it grew out of solid concrete with roots that were impossible to scratch or cut with blade or magic – they literally bounced off. Twilight hypothesized that the Ear used magic to form a microscopic barrier that nullified kinetic energy… whatever that meant.

The hole in the trunk was nothing special except for a foul odour that was not unlike fresh blood. Snips and Snails made a game of tossing some rocks in from a distance, enjoying the satisfying thunk when they got a score.

If anypony in the town made a sound with their voice and at least one other pony was around to hear it, the poor soul that heard it would be afflicted in the form of a laceration appearing on their body. The size, location, and severity of the wound varied, but no one was sure what the factors that affected it were. They only knew that the lacerations varied because of all the ponies that got hurt while they were in the stages of discovering the Ear’s power.

Sadly, six ponies died before Mayor Mare’s warning got out – five from blood loss and one unfortunate mare from decapitation; it was her filly’s first word, too.

They knew that what the Ear considered a ‘sound’ was broad enough to encompass things like grunts and screams, though sighs and snorts were in the safe. Also, every ‘sound’ inflicted a laceration, but if there were more than one pony present to hear it, it was random who would be affected.

Through bravery and a lot of recklessness, Pinkie discovered that if nopony was around to hear you, then you could talk as much as you want. Also, you needed to consciously register sounds for the lacerations to appear – Twilight escaped harm from Spike talking aloud because she was too focused on her book.

That was all they knew about the Ear currently, and until they discovered how to make the Ear go away, they had to live with it.





Understandably, not many ponies came to Sugarcube Corner, but they still had their regulars.

Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon still came in for milkshakes. Thank Faust Diamond Tiara learned to be quiet after a careless, ‘Hey, Blank Flanks’ gave her friend three cuts.

Rainbow Dash stopped by for her lunch break and ordered fries and a hay sandwich. She picked at her sandwich while daydreaming, then hurriedly scoffed it all down realizing how little of her break she had left. Same old, same old.

Fluttershy slinked in meekly and had a few donuts in the afternoon, then stared out the window with a distant look in her eyes.

Caramel walked in through the door, waved to Pinkie-

-and stopped as his nose started to twitch.

Pinkie’s eyes widened in alarm, as did Caramel’s. He turned to leave, but it was too late; his eyes watered and his head drew back, and Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon noticed at that same time and their eyes widened in horror as Caramel-

Pinkie lunged forward, dropping a tray with a mug of hot chocolate. It shattered behind her as she pushed a napkin she pulled out of her hair against his muzzle.

Caramel shuddered… then sighed.

Pinkie cautiously pulled away and sighed as well. She and Caramel shared a silent laugh of relief and he gestured ‘thanks’. Pinkie turned around and took one step forward-

-and a shard of the mug jabbed into the underside of her hoof.

“OUCH!!”

Pinkie slapped her hoof over her mouth, but-

“AH!” Diamond Tiara jolted and grabbed her foreleg.

Agony slashed open Pinkie’s back. It was all she could do to keep quiet; she bit her lip and felt warmth spill down her chin.

Distantly, like she was hearing it through a tunnel, footsteps surrounded her. She could see legs closing in from her position on the floor. She didn’t remember falling, though. Warmth seeped into her fur as the wound on her back radiated pain. It hurt so much.

Eventually, through a lot of sweat, tears, and clenched teeth, Pinkie found herself in her bed with fresh gauze wound around her. The pain was at least bearable.

Mr and Mrs. Cake came inside, frowning in concern. Pinkie managed a weary smile, wishing that alone could make the heartache on their faces disappear. She knew things hadn’t been easy for them since the twins didn’t understand how important it was for them to be quiet. They had to separate them from one another for the time being, and the Cakes bore plasters and bandages all over their bodies as evidence of the twins’ innocent ignorance.

Pinkie didn’t want to add to their burden.

Mr. Cake gave her some medicine to swallow and asked if she was okay. She thought, at least. Honestly, she sort of just gave meanings to gestures rather than them being any sort of official. A lot of ponies were using them, so that was cool – she was a trendsetter!

The medicine helped dull the pain even further, but now she felt sleepy. She hoped this wouldn’t affect her ability to throw Twilight’s party.





Pinkie woke to a scream.

She shot up, swallowing a shriek as a laceration appeared on her belly. It wasn’t deep, but it hurt.

She heard another scream and braced herself, but nothing happened – somepony else must have gotten cut instead.

Pinkie looked out her window and, ignoring the pain, limped over to it. It was a moonless night, but the street lights provided adequate lighting for her to see several ponies running about, making sure to keep quiet; they communicated with gestures and points instead.

Something was going down.

Pinkie ran downstairs and went outside, grimacing and starting to sweat. She looked overhead and saw Rainbow Dash paint a prismatic trail as she zipped to the centre of the town. Pinkie ran after her.

She arrived to a horrible sight.

The tree, the Ear, was alive in a way it shouldn’t have been.

The branches were writhing like snakes, shedding bark like a second skin as they grew to extraordinary lengths and smashed through the windows of neighbouring buildings. The ground beneath it shifted and cracked as the roots undulated and extended outwards. The hole in its trunk…

It cracked and widened further and let out a piercing scream.

A stallion watching the ordeal not too far from Pinkie was rent in half by nothing.

Pinkie’s vision swam and she forced herself not to think about what she had just seen. She focused on Twilight, who was close to the tree and casting spell after spell while a few other ponies tried to hack away at the tree’s roots and branches.

Throughout all of this, not one pony made a sound.

Pinkie stumbled, still woozy, and caught Twilight’s attention by grabbing her shoulder. She shrugged, aware of how strange it looked considering the urgency, but she had no other way of asking,

“What do we do?”

Wondering why the Ear was acting like this now after so long being inactive wasn’t going to solve the problem – they needed to act now to survive.

The Ear shrieked again and a pegasus plummeted with a sickening crunch, their severed wind landing a second after.

Twilight grimaced and shook her head.

Pinkie took that as a bad sign.

Suddenly, Caramel ran past her with something in hoof – a bottle with a rag stuffed into the neck. As she watched, he brought out a match and went to light it.

In response, the Ear sprouted several more holes and emitted a volley of howls and shrieks.

Pinkie felt two cuts appear on her flanks, but she barely noticed them as Caramel convulsed, blood shooting from his body as one of his forelegs fell, then his ears, and then finally his head.

Twilight screamed in horror and another pegasus fell.

Pinkie dropped to her knees.

They were going to die.

As she despaired, a glint her eye. She looked up and noticed the flammable cocktail Caramel had improvised.

She started to think: why did the Ear react so strongly to the fire? They already tried doing that to its branches and roots, but the flames were instantly snuffed out. Was it somehow weaker during this active phase?

As Pinkie thought, her gaze wandered to the hole in its trunk.

Snips and Snails made a game of tossing some rocks in from a distance, enjoying the satisfying thunk when they got a score.

Eyes widening, Pinkie turned to Twilight and grabbed her face, forcing their eyes to meet. Blue glaring into purple, she mouthed her words.

Twilight gaped in shock.

Pinkie mouthed the words again, added another one: NOW.

Twilight hesitated, but one glance at the Ear and the destruction it was causing strengthened her resolve. With a whimper, she lit her horn.

Pinkie felt an unfamiliar pressure on her ears-

-then a spike of white-hot pain that pierced straight to her brain. It was brief and she recoiled, blinking.

And then she was aware of the silence.

Pinkie looked around and saw ponies being cut, but did not hear their cries of pain.

Pinkie looked back at Twilight and saw her lips moving – she got the impression Twilight wasn’t mouthing them this time, yet she heard nothing.

‘Okay, this will work.’

Pinkie put on her best smile and hugged Twilight.

‘I’ll make everyone smile again. You’ll see.’

And then she ran forward.

Pinkie snatched up the molotov and the match. She saw the Ear’s mouths stretching and twisting, more pegasi falling, but she ignored it and kept running. This had to stop before it could grow any further.

Running, hearing nothing, Pinkie dodged and weaved as the Ear’s attention shifted to her and it started swinging its branches. One of the tips drew a line along her side and another almost knocked her down, but she kept running.

Close enough.

Pinkie lit the match and used it to burn the rag. She saw another branch zoom toward her and ducked at the last second. Rising, she took aim, prayed to whomever was listening, and threw.

The bottle spun in mid-air. The Ear’s branches snapped as they tried to bend far enough inwards to knock it away.

But it wasn’t enough.

The bottle landed inside the main hole of the trunk and the flames roared to life, ravenously devouring the Ear’s insides.

The Ear seemed to be shrieking, but when Pinkie looked, no one was being cut. The branches twitched and flailed, the roots coiled and slashed at the ground, but the flames continued to rise and eat until the Ear’s form could barely be made out amidst the inferno.

Dazed, Pinkie turned around, feeling the inferno’s heat against her back and staggered back to Twilight, who rushed to catch her as she fell.

Twilight’s lips were moving; she was crying, smiling.

“You did it.”

Pinkie forgot how much she missed seeing a genuine smile.








"Another interesting one, Rarity," Twilight checked off her list. "And just three more to go."

While Rarity went to blow out a candle, Pinkie rocked back and forth in excitement. "Ooh, this means we might be getting a visit from some spooky spirits. Do you think they like candy?"

"Hmm, well, they would have to be partially constructed of magical energy to exist, so if they're able to manipulate the density of their molecules..."

"I just hope they're nice and don't try to eat our souls and take our bodies as puppets," Fluttershy sighed. "Gosh, I think I just gave myself nightmares for the week."

"Enough!" Trixie held her hoof up. "For it is time for the Fluent and Articulated Trixie's encore!"
> 14th Candle
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

When they were fillies, Rainbow Dash asked why Fluttershy liked the ground so much; it was boring, dirty, and hard.

Fluttershy looked at her, eyes dark, and told her she didn’t like the angels.

Rainbow Dash was confused by the answer but chose not to harp on it. She forgot about it completely not a day after and wouldn’t remember until years and years later, after Twilight got her wings and somepony at the coronation mentioned how she looked positively radiant and angelic.

That off-hoofed remark, innocuous and not even directed at her, snagged the memory and drug it back into the light.

And so, when the coronation party was dying down, Rainbow Dash found herself lying down in the grass with Fluttershy. They were giggling about something stupid, both a little buzzed from the wine, when Rainbow Dash blurted out that same question she asked long ago.

“Say, Flutters, what did you mean when you said you didn’t like the angels?”

Rainbow Dash expected to be asked what she meant since the question was out of the blue and it was about something so far back that surely Fluttershy wouldn’t remember it.

But Fluttershy’s giddy mood evaporated in an instant. “Oh, that,” She was quiet in the few second she spent staring at the sky. “I meant… No, it’s nothing.”

“My flank it’s ‘nothing’. Come on…” Rainbow Dash rolled onto her side and propped her head up with her hoof. “Tell me.”

Fluttershy played with a lock of her hair. “… It happened a long time ago. I was young, so I probably imagined it or something. You know how easily frightened I get.”

“Jeez, just tell me already.”

“Well… my nana was the one that told me about it at first. No one in my family really talked about her since she was old and, um, they said she had trouble remembering faces, but she was always nice to me. Before she passed on, she told me she once saw an angel, but no one believed her. This was all before I met you, by the way.

“A-and, um… some time after that, I was out flying… or learning to, I should say. I went a little further from home than I planned and I felt… at the time I felt this sensation like I was being watched. I looked up and… there it was.”

“The angel?”

“I think so.”

“Wait, you think?”

“I-I can’t remember,” Fluttershy frowned and squeezed her forehooves together. “Thinking back on it, it was probably just a big bird.”

Rainbow Dash ‘huh’ed. “Sooooo, what? Are there actually angels flying around out there? You’d think more ponies would see them.”

“Nana said they only exist if you believe they do.”

“You don’t?”

“I’m not sure. Maybe that’s why?” Fluttershy looked over, thoughtful. “I’m not one hundred percent sure I saw an angel because I can’t recall it properly, so that’s why I haven’t seen anymore? Maybe anything less than absolute belief…”

Rainbow Dash shrugged. “No idea. Anyway, you got an idea of what the angel looked like?”

“… Wings.”

“Pretty standard.”

“White feathers. A gown? It was big, or I think it was,” Fluttershy sighed and shook her head. “Really, I don’t recall.”

“Eh, no worries – I was just curious about it ‘cause something reminded me of it,” Rainbow Dash put her forelegs behind her head, aiming to relax, but paused. “Oh, one last thing – did your nana say anything about why it showed itself to her? Did she just believe in it, so…?”

Fluttershy thought for a bit. “I think she said it happened after her mom died and her dad said she became an angel. She was still young, so she didn’t understand death and- oh!” Fluttershy perked up. “N-now I remember! Nana went through a little funnel she made from clouds, pretending it was like a gateway to the land of angels.”

Rainbow Dash’s eyebrows went up. “That’s a kid thing to think, but I guess we’ve seen stranger on our adventures,” Feeling that her curiosity had been sated, Rainbow Dash went back to relaxing. “Mm, thanks for putting up with me.”

“Not at all.”

“Say, I’m just gonna close my eyes for a bit, but that doesn’t mean I’m not listening if you wanna keep talking. I’m awesome at multi-tasking.”

Fluttershy giggled. “Yes, I know you are.”





Rainbow Dash nudged the conversation to the back of her head. It stayed there stewing for about a week, then floated to the forefront of her mind when she was lying on a puff of cloud one spectacularly sunny and uneventful Saturday morning.

Having nothing to do, Rainbow Dash’s first instinct was to make a nuisance of herself to her friends, but last time Rarity hit her with a blow dryer, so that had to be put on the benches for now. Her second instinct – make a nuisance of herself to Ponyville – was bumped aside by her talk with Fluttershy.

“Angels, huh?” Rainbow Dash sighed and poked her head over the edge of her cloud. She could see almost all of Ponyville from this height. “Wonder if they get a view like this all the time?”

Boredom stirred her from inaction. Flapping her wings, Rainbow Dash broke down her little bed into smaller puffs and turned her attention to the larger clouds hanging overhead.

“Heh, wonder if they saw my Rainboom all the way up there?”

Perhaps they’d ask for her autograph?

And so, she soared higher.

Higher.

Even higher.

Rainbow Dash passed many clouds and pegasi on the way up, though she had no real plan on what she was going to do. Like with many things, she leapt – well, flew – without thinking ahead.

That was how you had the most fun in life, though.

Rainbow Dash stopped when she found herself so high that Ponyville looked like a dot. She could see the landscape for miles in either direction, but this wasn’t the highest she’d flown before.

Ah, yes – it was five years ago, she had gone so high she could see the oceans. Had to come down quickly after due to how thin the oxygen got, but damn it was worth it.

“Hey, maybe I’m an angel,” Rainbow Dash snickered as she hovered past a cloud. “Just kidding.”

Oh, hang on!

Rainbow Dash grabbed the cloud and started to twist and lengthen it. “A funnel, huh? I can do that.”

In no time, she had her funnel; it wasn’t the best she could do, far from it, but it was good enough. She thought that so long as she was able to go through it, then it’d be fine.

“Long shot, but I got jack-shit to do,” Rainbow Dash looked around. “Jeez, who am I talking to anyway?”

She flew through the funnel without issue, even did a little spin coming out.

Nothing.

“What else did Fluttershy say?” Rainbow Dash went back to the entrance, tapping her chin. “You had to believe in them, or something? Wait, she said her nana was trying to see her mother again. Something like that.”

She hovered at the funnel’s entrance and crossed her forelegs, humming. Anyone seeing her would probably think she’d gone loopy – thank Faust no one normally flew this high.

“I guess…” Rainbow Dash stared through the funnel for a while. “I mean, I was pretty devastated when my nana died. She was awesome and if anyone could be an angel, then…”

Rainbow Dash thought of Prism Flash’s wrinkly, kind face and went through the funnel again. It was a more pleasant feeling than before since she was recalling all those yummy baked goods and warm hugs.

Nana also scolded her a lot, but she did that to everyone – it was hilarious how she made the roughest looking stallion shrink and look sheepish with a stern glare and a nip to the ears.

Rainbow Dash came out the other side, even gave a little spin.

The back of her head started to itch. It felt like someone was watching her. She turned and put her hoof over her eyes to block out the sun-

Oh, it was overcast? When did that happen?

…

Rainbow Dash’s chest grew tight. Her wings seized. She started to fall.

It was hard to comprehend the sheer vastness of what she was seeing. Each of its six wings stretched across the sky for miles, capable of literally sweeping mountain ranges clean.

Rainbow Dash’s jaw trembled as she was struck with an enormous feeling of vulnerability and helplessness.

She could fly along its body length and it would take a day to go tip to tip. The size was beyond her comprehension – it was impossible for something this large to exist in close range to the land.

Its body was vaguely equine, but the limbs had more joints that let them bend in ways that sent chills down her spine. The face bore a yawning, pitch-black maw and half-lidded, milky eyes. On its body was a country-sized smock formed of clouds.

It regarded her with curiosity.

Rainbow Dash’s wings twitched to life and she turned and flew as fast as she could.

‘It was just a bird I was seeing things It was heat stroke The light played tricks on me It was an illusion I’m safe We’re all safe There’s nothing to be afraid of I’m not-





“Hey Rainbow Dash?”

Rainbow Dash turned around, a bundle of firewood tied to her back. “What’s up?”

Scootaloo paused to take a breath. She’d worked hard this flying lesson, so Rainbow Dash decided to let her rest at camp while she made dinner.

“Sorry, um…” Scootaloo looked up briefly. “So, I notice that you always do this… I dunno. It looks like a chant? A mantra? Anyway, you say a few words before taking off and you always look around like you’re expecting something to happen?”

Rainbow Dash was silent.

“You never used to do that before, I think,” Scootaloo scratched her head, seeming to sense that she’d come across an uncomfortable topic. “Is… everything okay?”

After a while, Rainbow Dash just grinned. “It’s nothing. Just a weird habit.”

“You sure?”

“Totally. There’s nothing in the sky that I can’t take on – griffon, angel, dragon.”

Scootaloo made a face. “Huh? Why would you fight an angel? Aren’t they nice?”

“I’m exaggerating, squirt,” Rainbow Dash laughed, then carried on walking. “Besides, angels aren’t real.”








“That was a little weird.”

Trixie leaned back and quirked her eyebrow at Starlight. “How so?”

“I get the foreshadowing at the start, but the horror sort of comes out of nowhere, doesn’t it? And it’s only there for a short while. Not saying it was bad, just…”

“Sudden,” Rainbow Dash interjected. “Yeah, I felt the same way.”

Trixie grumbled. “Perhaps Trixie rushed it a little…”

“That being said, I like the idea of totally upending an expectation almost everypony would have about an angel. Like, pretty much all stories about angels are them being super-nice and holy, so hearing that they might not be is pretty unsettling.”

“And the story suggests they seem to be of truly colossal proportions – it would be terrifying to imagine a being simply watching from above, knowing it is capable of destroying an entire ecosystem with a touch,” Twilight shuddered. “I think I get what your story was trying to do, Trixie.”

“Oh…” Trixie cleared her throat. “Th-thank you.”

Pinkie giggled. “Hey, are you blushing?”

“Of course not!”

“You are! How cute!”

“Why, you…! Trixie is gorgeous and stunning – she is not merely ‘cute’.”

Rarity tittered. “Remember only you can make yourself feel embarrassed.”

Applejack nodded. “Words ta live by.”

“Thank you, dear.”

“Wanna come ta th’ next Apple family reunion an’ square dance in overalls?”

“Only if you agree to wear the dress I made that was deemed too frilly by Canterlot of all places.”

“Shucks, you win.”
> 15th Candle
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Fluttershy was helping Rarity move some things at the Boutique when she came upon an old painting half-hidden in the corner. It was a picture of a white-coated mare with a serene expression reaching up to an iridescent light. The frame was wooden and carved with a beautiful flowing pattern.

“Oh?” Rarity trotted over and stood next to her. “Goodness, I forgot all about this.”

“Did you paint it?” Fluttershy asked.

“Gracious no – I tried my hoof at painting in school and the teacher burst into tears,” Rarity laughed awkwardly, like it wasn’t quite a joke. “I’m far more comfortable with a thread and needle than a paint brush. No, this piece was something I picked up on a whim during a trip to Canterlot. A splendid work, is it not? How shameful for me to neglect it.”

Fluttershy hummed in acknowledgement and stared at the light that seemed to bewitch the mare. “Does it have any meaning?”

“Hrm…” Rarity narrowed her eyes and tapped her head. “If one recalls correctly… the stallion I bought it from said it was supposed to represent a connection between pony and divinity. I believe it is called ‘Seven Gods’ Benevolence’.”

Fluttershy tensed. “Gods…”

“I can only see one ‘god’ no matter how carefully I look,” Rarity added, pointing to the light. “Unless that singular entity is supposed to be several. Painters have rather queer imaginations, wouldn’t you agree?”

“U-um, y-yes.”

“I think that-”

“What do you think a ‘god’ is, Rarity?”

Rarity looked at her, surprised, and Fluttershy immediately regretted asking. “What do I…? Hm, well… I believe a ‘god’ is an entity that transcends what you and I would call ‘mortals’.”

“But what does that mean?” Fluttershy found herself jumping at a chance to talk to someone, anyone about this; she’d been keeping it inside for so long. “What makes something divine and what makes something mortal? Do you think Celestia and Luna are gods?”

Rarity’s surprise was evident in her face, but she didn’t seem bothered by the subject. “I… believe that some ponies would say they are. I can see why: they have been around for a very long time, they do not appear to age, they possess incredible power, and they alone show all the unique traits of earth ponies, pegasi, and unicorns.”

“What do you think?”

“I believe they are exceptional beings, but I think ‘gods’ is a step too far.”

“Why?”

“Because…” Rarity paused and scrunched her brow. She was quiet for a few seconds. “Well, because they just seem too equine. Celestia, for all her majesty and grace, laughs and eats and grieves just like the rest of us. Why, the last time we met with her, I witnessed her pick up the wrong fork for dessert! It is the same for her sister, Luna, as well. You met with her on Nightmare Night, so you saw how adorably awkward she was and how much she wanted to earn our love and respect.

“To me, a god is a being so far above us that its motives and behaviour is something we cannot grasp nor understand. We should not be able to see it as ‘like us’.”

Fluttershy nodded slowly. “I see.”

“That is just how I see it, darling. No doubt there are many, many viewpoints on such a subject. Speaking of which…” Rarity cocked her head. “I realize I initially brought up the concept of divinity and godhood, but you seemed to be quite interested in it. Why is that?”

“Oh, um… I just think this sort of thing is fascinating, that’s all,” Fluttershy fidgeted on the spot. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to hold us up.”

“Oh, pish-posh – think nothing of it. I enjoyed this conversation, nuanced as it is,” Rarity lit her horn and lifted the painting. “I’ll be sure to give this a proper place where it may be admired.”

Fluttershy discreetly eyed Rarity’s right foreleg. “Y-yes, let’s get back to work.”





Watching Twilight’s magic was something else entirely; most unicorns could levitate a few objects at once or cast a utility spell here and there, but that was it. Twilight regularly did these tasks and much more with finesse and ease.

Fluttershy watched in awe as a platoon of books marched through the air in single-file only for one to suddenly break formation and slot itself into an empty space on the library’s shelves. As this was happening, Twilight was also using her magic to write a letter for Spike to send off – she wasn’t even looking at the display overhead, it was so normal to her.

“There we go,” Twilight gave the letter to Spike, then turned to Fluttershy. “Sorry, you were asking about deities?”

Fluttershy blinked. “Um, yes.”

“I’m a little surprised you would ask about that,” Twilight’s horn shone a little brighter and several books floated down at her command. “Theology isn’t a field I’m interested in, nor an expert, but if you want an atheist’s perspective, then I’d be more than happy to help,” Twilight placed the books on a nearby table. “Otherwise, I’d recommend these.”

“You don’t believe in gods? What about Celestia?”

Twilight chuckled, amused. “I admire her greatly, but I’ve never once thought of her as a ‘god’, just an exceptionally powerful pony; that goes the same for Luna. Given enough time and research, any ‘deity’ can be classified and then it becomes just like any other form of life. The idea of an entity being ‘unknowable’ or ‘beyond comprehension’ is just ridiculous.”

Fluttershy frowned. “That seems a little harsh.”

Twilight cringed. “Oh, I’m not trying to insult anyone. I may not believe in gods, but their concept is significant for any society to develop spiritually, and I certainly have no problem with a religious belief that encourages goodwill and a healthy lifestyle. It’s just not for everyone.”

“Oh, that makes sense.”

“Do you believe in gods?”

Fluttershy opened her mouth, then closed it. She wasn’t sure how to answer.

“Touchy subject?” Twilight shrugged. “It’s fine. You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

Fluttershy eyed Twilight’s right foreleg. “Thank you.”





Fluttershy arrived at her cottage and felt a lump of ice in her stomach when she noticed Angel waiting for her by the door. Normally, he did this when he felt his needs weren’t being met, but today he had an anxious expression. Not only that, but her other animal friends were hiding away in their little homes.

“He’s up again, is he?” Fluttershy grimaced when Angel nodded. “Okay. I’ll… I’ll be back shortly.”

Angel frowned and watched her walk by.

Fluttershy placed her satchel full of Twilight’s loaned books on the living room table, then went into the kitchen. Moving aside some seating furniture, Fluttershy looked upon a door in the floor. She grabbed the iron ring and gave it a big pull, causing the hinges to creak eerily as the door revealed a plight of stone stairs.

The previous owner of the cottage used this as a storage space, but cleaned out when he moved to Baltimare. Fluttershy didn’t have many things to fill it, so she just left it alone for all these years.

Until recently.

Fluttershy descended into the sub-room and flicked a switch when she reached the bottom. The air was scented with the smell of pine and freshly-dug earth. The room was two-thirds the size of her living room with nothing in it.

Except for him.

Fluttershy nervously bowed her head. “H-hello.”

There was no response.

“Um, did I keep you waiting? I’m sorry if I did.”

Still no response.

Fluttershy felt brave enough to lift her head and trot forward. Her hooves stepped on sticks and dried leaves that always seemed to find there way in even though he never left.

Or maybe he did.

The scent of wood became stronger as she stopped before him and prostrated fully. “D-do y-you need any… anything?”

He was quiet, then suddenly snorted.

“… O-okay.”

Fluttershy took that to mean ‘no’, which left her with no other option. He had summoned her for only one purpose – the usual purpose.





“I believe in Mother Faust, sure thing.”

Fluttershy nodded. She expected that, to be honest. “If you don’t mind me asking, then why do you believe?”

Applejack’s hind legs hit the tree with a strong thunk and apples came raining down into their buckets. “Look around ya, sugarcube – th’ trees, th’ dirt, th’ sun, even you an’ me have gotta come from somewhere, right? Ah mean, th’ farm didn’t jes’ exist – us Apples made tha’. An’ I believe tha’ Mother Faust made us.”

“Then, who made Mother Faust?”

Applejack faltered, then laughed. “Oh, got me there. Well, she’s th’ exception, I’d say.”

“Are you okay with that?” Fluttershy frowned. “If something exists because it was made by somepony else, then something had to have made them, too. Unless you think that what makes a god is existing from the very start.”

Applejack took off her hat and scratched her head. “Shucks, if ya’ll came here ta wax philosophy, then ya might wanna see my brother. I’m not good at explainin’ why I believe in Faust, I jes’ do.”

“Even if it doesn’t make sense?”

“If it makes ya happier in life, then do ya really need ta?”

Fluttershy eyed the foreleg holding Applejack’s hat. “… What if it doesn’t…? N-never mind.”





He was almost always in the same position – lying on his belly with his legs tucked underneath. Sometimes, Fluttershy came down to find him pacing or lying on his side. Once, she saw him at the bottom of the stairs looking up at her, waiting.

He did not have a name, or he did not bother sharing it.

He was three times her size and had a body covered in shaggy brown fur. His legs – six of them – were bare and ended in cloven hooves. His neck was long and his head was equine but with a shorter muzzle. He had two, bone-white antlers coming out from the sides of his head.

Fluttershy swallowed as she offered her right foreleg. “Please…”

His yellow, unblinking eyes stared straight ahead as his antlers pulsed with a blue light.

Fluttershy watched as strange symbols appeared in her flesh, carved by some unseen force. There was no pain, but it was dreadfully itchy, and she never got used to seeing it happen.

Especially when her leg went numb because the next time she would blink, the limb would be gone, leaving a stump of wood sticking out of her red and bloody muscle.

Suppressing the urge to vomit, Fluttershy looked to him. As with her limb being shorn, she didn’t see it happen, but he would be chewing slowly, rivulets of blood soaking his fur.

Fluttershy bowed her head. “I-I hope it’s to y-your taste…”





Fluttershy found him late one night in the Everfree while looking for Fugo, her fox.

She pushed through some bushes and found herself in a clearing, where Fugo was trying to make himself as big as possible while he stood there, watching.

Fluttershy tried communicating with him, but he didn’t respond. Fugo, scared out of his wits, attempted to flee.

Fluttershy saw his antlers flash for just a second, and the next she was looking at the twitching body of a fox turned inside out.





“It’s okay, Angel. I’m okay.”

As soon as Fluttershy was back in her kitchen, the branch in her leg grew rapidly: it copied the shape of the bones she once had, sprouted leaves that layered over each other in lieu of muscle, formed vines to transport her blood, and created a coat of bark that could be mistaken for fur and skin.

Fluttershy chose to believe this was a sign of his benevolence.





Rainbow Dash gave her an odd look. “Why do you wanna know?”

Fluttershy’s wings strained to keep up with her friend’s pace, but she was used to taking her time while flying. “N-no reason. I’m just curious.”

“Hm. Well, then I guess I believe in gods.”

“Why?”

She shrugged. “Just do.”

Fluttershy’s eye twitched. “Um, but-”

“So, why did you ask? Only fair that I can ask a question, right?”

Fluttershy couldn’t argue with that. “I…” She glanced down at the landscape. “I want to know what a god is. Definitively.”

Rainbow Dash’s eyebrows went up and she folded her forelegs. “O-kay. And why is that?”

“I… well, I would want to know how to deal with one if it showed up,” Fluttershy eyed the leg Rainbow Dash idly scratched. “If I even could.”





He followed her home.

Fluttershy didn’t remember when he made his claim to the sub-room, but before she knew it, there were roots and leaves layered on the stone floor. Where he laid, strange symbols appeared on the walls.

Knowing she was out of her depth, Fluttershy went to her friends for help. When they arrived at her cottage, a strange look came over their faces and, as one, they moved into the sub-room despite Fluttershy’s protests.

There, she watched in helpless terror as he took her friends’ right forelegs, which they were only too happy to relinquish.





“… Gods sound like they’d be kinda scary.”

Fluttershy was so surprised she almost dropped the bowl of dough. “You think so?”

Pinkie’s near-perpetual smile was still there, but her face held an air of severity. “Gods have a lot of power, right? Or at least more than your average joe. Joe’s an old friend, by the way. But yeah, I think that a mean god would be really scary if they had that power.”

“You think gods are mean?”

“I think they’d be like any other pony,” Pinkie turned to check on the oven, then came back. “Which is good because they could understand us, but bad because ponies can do silly things when they’re angry or hurt.”

Fluttershy was quiet for a bit, eyeing Pinkie’s foreleg intently. “But at least we’d be able to understand them.”

“That’s true,” Pinkie nodded. “Even I would have a hard time trying to make a god smile if I had no idea what they wanted.”





On the day he took her friends’ legs, he turned the sky above Ponyville red and the ground teeming with leeches.

Fluttershy somehow managed to pull her friends away, but no one in town seemed to notice what had happened to the sky. They all had an odd compulsion to stick close to her, though, and it took an hour to lose them.

Returning to her home, Fluttershy pleaded with him to stop and offered her servitude in exchange. He seemed content with this, for after taking it – while she could feel every symbol being carved before her leg was cruelly yanked off – the sky returned to normal and her friends came out of their trance, limbs restored.

Fluttershy knew at that point that she would have to deal with him alone, for anyone made aware of his presence might suffer the same fate. He seemed content with having her at his beck and call, but for how long? How long until he grew tired? Why did he not control her like he did the others?

Fluttershy hoped to understand the mind of the god beneath her home before it was too late.








“I liked it,” Rainbow Dash nodded. “But I can’t help but feel it’s too similar to Trixie’s.”

“Her story reminded me of this one,” Applejack replied, getting up to blow out a candle. “Nothin’ wrong with tha’, is there?”

“Seems fine to me,” Pinkie added. “Angels, gods – we make them out to be super powerful, so it’s really scary to think that they’ll just hurt you for no rhyme or reason because… well, what can you do? Nothing.”

“Maybe that’s why stories about regular ponies overcoming the gods are so inspiring?” Starlight suggested. “I haven’t studied many religious beliefs, but it seems like there’s always at least one story where a mortal gets the upper hoof on some entity supposedly above them in every regard.”

“Ponies are stubborn as heck,” Rainbow Dash stretched and lied down on her side. “Even if we revere something, part of us still wants to rebel against us. It’s in our nature.”

“That’s insightful of you.”

“I’m all kinds of sightful.”

Twilight watched Applejack blow out her candle. “So, it’s just one more tale now. And that privilege belongs to me.”

“No pressure or anything,” Rainbow Dash chuckled. “But you’d think the last tale would be the biggest one of them all, right?”

Twilight rolled her eyes. “Right, ‘no pressure’, hm? Well, I’ll certainly try my best.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine.” Fluttershy said with a warm smile.

“That’s right – you show us how it’s done, teacher!” Starlight cheered.

“Okay, okay,” Twilight took a deep breath. “Let’s begin…”
> 16th Candle
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Rarity, do you know about Starswirl’s theorem about the Sixteen Leylines?”

Rarity sipped from her tea and shook her head. “Twilight, darling, you know that I could not even begin to grasp at the basics of your fields of interest. I only know of the most rudimentary spells.”

“Oh.”

“But that does not mean I would not like to hear about it.”

Twilight’s face lit up. “Really? Okay, it’s kind of difficult to follow at first, but I’ll explain it the best I can.”

Rarity ‘mm-hm’ed and settled in for what she predicted to be a long-winded but intriguing conversation – talks with Twilight usually are.

Twilight cleared her throat. “So, you probably know already that sixteen is considered an unlucky number in Equestria.”

“I do.”

“It’s commonly seen as superstition, but there have been significant events throughout history, both before and after the conception of Equestria, that seem to bear some connection to the number. This can be coincidental, but certain scientific minds have been curious enough to delve further and try to prove there is a solid link. One of those minds was Starswirl the Bearded.”

Rarity nodded. “I’m following so far.”

“Starswirl worked to prove a connection for the longest time, mostly as a side hobby. He travelled to many parts of Equestria, conducted many experiments, sought the insight of various intellectuals.”

“He sounds like a thorough stallion.”

“Oh, he was! I admire him for that tenacity,” Twilight gave a little shrug. “Anyway, he continued this research well into his twilight years. At this point, everypony pretty much gave up on the idea of there being any correlation between the number sixteen and these events. Then, one day, Starswirl came before the court with his theorem.”

The passion was evident in Twilight’s eyes and tone; her body language gradually became jittery and restless with unspent energy. Rarity had to hold back an amused snort.

“Starswirl suggested that there sixteen anomalies in the universe called leylines, which show particularly strong presence in Equestria due to the land having a massive supply of magical energy. These leylines function on the principal of ‘sympathetic magic’. That’s-”

“The idea that ambient magic is subject to manipulation from a strong enough mental force whether it is conscious or unconscious.”

“Correct.”

Rarity preened. “I remember some things from school.”

“If these leylines existed and functioned on sympathetic magic, then it may lend credence to the belief that sixteen is unlucky. This is because if enough ponies believed sixteen is unlucky, then their collective wills would generate enough magical energy to tap into a leyline.”

“Er, so, in that case… clap your hooves if you believe?”

Twilight blinked. “… Basically.”

“Intriguing.”

“Starswirl had no means to prove the existence of these leylines, so his theory remained as that: a theory.”

Rarity levitated the tea pot and refilled her cup. “I see. What brought this topic up, may I ask?”

“Because I think I might be able to prove these leylines exist.”

Twilight had that restless look she often got talking about her research ideas. It was cute when you were familiar with her, otherwise it just looked creepy. Honestly, it still sent chills down Rarity’s spine.

“Well, if anypony could do it, then I would place my faith in you,” Rarity took a biscuit from the plate between them. “Hurry now – your beverage shall cool.”





Two weeks passed as Twilight threw herself into proving Starswirl’s theorem correct. She secluded herself in her basement longer than what could be considered healthy, but thanks to Spike and her friends insisting on daily outings, it never felt out of control or excessive.

Rarity could sympathise with Twilight; she herself tended to forgo frivolities such as eating and sleeping to make sure her project was just right.

But it was getting to be around that time for Rarity to remind Twilight to eat, so she went over to see if Spike had any luck convincing her to come back upstairs.

Spike was standing in front of the basement door when she arrived. He gave a sigh and glanced over his shoulder.

“The usual?” Rarity tittered.

“I could probably smear some jam on a book and she’d eat it without looking.” Spike grumbled as he left the door to her.

Rarity knocked. “Twilight, darling! I’m afraid you’re not allowed to waste away while I’m here.”

After a minute of no response, Rarity rolled her eyes and lit her horn. She closed her eyes and sent a tendril of magic into the keyhole. This was rather uncouth behaviour, but what was a little lockpicking between friends?

Tumblers defeated, Rarity descended into the basement and found Twilight fussing with her lab equipment.

“Darling?” When Twilight didn’t respond, Rarity sighed and walked over to a stack of books on a work desk.

She gave one the very lightest of touches.

Twilight yelped and turned around, grabbing a strange tool with magic. “Who’s touching my…?! Oh, uh…” She sheepishly put down the tool. “Sorry.”

“If anything, I should be the one apologizing for picking your lock.”

“Did you use magic? Rarity, that’s incredible!”

“It’s nothing, really. But feel free to compliment me some more.”

“I’m glad you’re here. Hold this.”

“Hold-” Rarity narrowly caught a round, metal sphere that was heaved in her direction. “Dear me!”

Twilight had already gone back to her equipment, working at a pace both fanatic yet meticulous. “I think I’m close, Rarity! The reason Starswirl wasn’t able to find evidence of the leylines is because they operate on the principal of sympathetic magic.”

“You… If memory serves, then I believe you already said that.”

“I did?” Twilight came over with a set of long cables that sparked intimidatingly when she put their ends together. “Huh. Anyway, hold that sphere still, or you’ll get shocked.”

Rarity whimpered and held the sphere aloft with her magic. At the first touch of the cables, there was a blue flash.

“Perfect.”

“I’ll believe you,” Rarity blinked away the spots from her vision. “Now, about this sympathetic magic business…”

“Right. So, like I said, sympathetic magic is subject to manipulation by what ponies believe. Therefore, if enough ponies believe that the leylines don’t exist, then they don’t.”

“They… don’t exist?”

“They do,” Twilight gently took the sphere. “There are two accepted states of being: reality and fictitious, but there may also be a third state between those two.”

“Uh, hold on a moment-”

“This ‘quasi-existence’ may be rendered fully realized by using the Elements to tap into the unique magic of Equestria and connect with enough ponies to plant the suggestion that leylines exist.”

Rarity grabbed Twilight’s shoulder before she could run off. “Darling, please calm down.”

Twilight restlessly looked back at her equipment. “… Okay.”

“I have no idea what you just said. Could you please… well, I’m hesitant to say ‘dumb it down’, but…”

“Yes. Sorry. I want… I want to use the Elements of Harmony to reach out and connect with enough ponies to make them aware of Starswirl’s leyline theorem.”

“But then…” Rarity pursed her lips. “If that’s… if what you said is possible, then why just make them aware of the theorem? Why not just say that they exist?”

“What I’m suggesting is experimental, Rarity. I want to be as less intrusive as I can, so it’s enough to let them know of the possibility it might exist. I have confidence that the majority of ponies are willing to believe in such a thing,” Twilight licked her lips and took the sphere over to a metal plate. When she set it down, the sphere hovered over by a few inches. “Once enough ponies believe leylines exist, then they should manifest and become detectable by modern equipment.”

Rarity scratched her head. She was starting to feel out of her depth, but she was following so far. “Another question, if I may?”

“Go ahead.”

“You said the leylines don’t exist because ponies don’t believe they do-”

“Or are unaware of them in the first place.”

“Right. If that’s the case, then how could the leylines be responsible for any events involving the number sixteen?”

Twilight grinned. “That’s what I’m going to find out. The answers are just waiting to be uncovered, Rarity!”

Rarity sighed. “I’m sure you know what you’re doing. Now, please come and eat something before Spike worries himself sick.”

“Fine… I’ll come up, but I really have to get back to this. I’m so close to finishing my-








“Uh, egghead?”

Twilight blinked. “Yes?”

Rainbow Dash hummed and shared an awkward look with her friends. “What are you doing?”

“I’m telling my scary story.”

“But you’re not. I’m sure this is something that happened like, a year ago? You were doing some research on this leyline stuff and…”

Applejack continued. “Ya said ya couldn’t find any real proof an’ such.”

“This happened before Tirek blew up the library, right?” Trixie asked.

Rarity quietly watched.

“You’re right,” Twilight nodded. “I couldn’t find any proof. Not at first. But then I hit a breakthrough. You remember how I mentioned sympathetic magic? Well, I thought I could use the Elements, but when I tried, nothing happened – they don’t work like that.

“But things are different now. The Elements are gone, now their power is in us. I thought maybe things will be different this time, so I asked Rarity to help me out.”

The attention shifted to Rarity, who just gave a knowing smile and a shrug.

“Uh, is this part of the story?” Pinkie asked with an unsure laugh. “I’m game, don’t get me wrong.”

Twilight chuckled and suddenly stood.

Rainbow Dash frowned. “Egghead?”

Twilight walked over to the mirror.

“Hey, you’re freaking me out. Quit being weird!”

“The Elements of Harmony connected us to one another, but that was it. With our new Rainbow powers, we can further that connection. You all felt it, didn’t you? The bonds we made throughout Equestria – that’s a form of sympathetic magic. In other words, the key component that I need to prove leylines exist…”

Twilight turned with an ecstatic grin.

“Is right here in this room.”

Everyone save Rarity turned to look at each other. The tension in the air was rising.

“With Rarity’s magic, I could get a glimpse of the leylines. I was right – there are sixteen of them.”

Fluttershy whimpered. “Twilight…”

“There’s still a lot about them I don’t understand. Like why there are sixteen, or why they cause strife, but with all of you here, I can figure that out.”

She gestured to the mirror.

“We came here to tell our tales. We shared in our fear, our excitement – we listened to these tales and thought, ‘what if they’re real’?”

“I-I didn’t think they were real!” Starlight cried. “I never-”

Twilight put her hoof up. “Sorry, Starlight, but we can talk later. You need to save your strength for taking control of the leylines.”

“Wh-what?”

“There’s only eight of us, so we’ll need to take two each. Rarity’s already taken her share and she’s perfectly fine.”

The attention shifted back to Rarity, who just gave a knowing smile-

-and twitched as a bloody crevice opened on her chest.

Everyone screamed and pulled away.

“Once the last kaidan has been told…” Twilight picked up the final candle and held it before her. The only source of light in the room cast eerie shadows on her face. “I’ll be able to invoke the power of the leylines. We’ll be part of something fantastic.”

“Twilight, this is…!” Applejack got up and looked to the doors. “What in tarnation have ya’ll done?!”

“Don’t worry, Applejack,” Twilight took a deep breath. “You’ll learn to like it.”

As Twilight’s cold breath snuffed out the flame, the room plunged into a chorus of screams.




















And raucous laughter.

“Oh, your reactions were priceless!!”

With a snap, the lights in the room turned on, blessing the cowering occupants with visibility once more. Slowly, their cries faded as they looked around, terror giving to confusion.

Twilight and Rarity laughed heartily. “Thanks for your help,” Twilight said, wiping away a tear. “I couldn’t find a spell that could make that gash so convincing.”

The occupants had their second heart attack of the night as a colourful blob manifested in the middle of the room and expanded into a lithe and serpentine body.

“Discord?!”

Discord bowed grandly. “The one and only. Apologies, my dear Fluttershy, but the opportunity was simply too rich to pass up. I’m sure you understand.”

“U-uh, oh…” Fluttershy gave a shaky shrug. “That’s… fine?”

“Wait a second…” Rainbow Dash pointed accusingly at Rarity and Twilight. “You guys planned this?!”

Rarity smirked. “Well, it was supposed to be just Twilight and Discord, but I happened to overhear their plans, so they included me on it,” She looked down at her chest and grimaced. “Ugh, Discord?”

Discord snapped his fingers and the bloody gash sealed itself.

Applejack sighed and rubbed her face. “Shoot, ya’ll jes’ about shaved five years off my life.”

Pinkie exploded from the safety den she created from various sleeping bags. “That was amazing! I haven’t been that scared since I borrowed a book from the library and forgot to return it. Hee hee! Twilight was so mad.”

“I wasn’t that mad.”

“Your hair was on fire. Literally.”

“Well, Trixie was not afraid in the slightest.”

Starlight gave her an unimpressed look. “Uh-huh. Could you get off my back, then?”

“No, Trixie deserves to be carried like a queen.”

Thmp

After a bit, Rainbow Dash started chuckling. “Gotta admit – that was pretty good. So, was this sleepover idea just a front for the scare?”

Twilight shrugged. “I wouldn’t call it a ‘front’. There’s no reason we can’t have both, right?”

“And now that I’m here, the party can truly get started!” Discord reached behind his back and pulled out a bowl that was wider than his body. “Now, who wants to share in a stranger’s candy?”

Twilight smiled as everyone clamoured around, for who could resist free candy? Before she could partake, Rarity touched her shoulder and nodded to the mirror.

“So, it seems we snuffed the final candle and nothing happened. Do you think it’s because the last tale wasn’t quite a tale?”

“Or, maybe some things really are just superstition,” Twilight put the candle on the table and looked into the mirror. “I got something out of this I wasn’t expecting, though.”

“Oh?”

“I used to think horror was just the typical ghosts and goblins jumping out of the shadows and shouting loudly, but it’s a broader category than I expected. Listening to your tales showed me that, and it also showed me that everyone has unique views on what ‘horror’ is.”

“Indeed. What is frightening to someone may be dull to another. I imagine this view may be even broader across different cultures.”

A sudden shriek made them jump.

“What is this travesty before Trixie’s eyes?! Why are they all black?”

“Black liquorice is the best type, of course.”

“Foul draconequus!”

Rarity shook her head with a light laugh. “Speaking of which…”

Twilight rolled her eyes. “Come on – we’ll miss out on the good candy if we hang back.”

“Good point.”

Sixteen unlit candles were left in front of the mirror, its surface reflecting the festivities in the room.

Fog clouded it for a short moment, though it went unnoticed.