Gloomy Sonnet finds a body and two new friends. Together they find out what happened.
Gloomy Sonnet wasn’t as thrilled to get her magic back. It’s hard to control and interfering with her writing. But a strange wind brings her to a dead body and psychic poem that writes itself. She finds others that were drawn in. A deaf artist named Silent Strokes and a dancer named Lyrica Songstrider. Together they have to unravel the poem, and find out why this unicorn died.
I stared at my ruby red typewriter in disbelief. The jet black keys pressed themselves as I thought. It was odd. Ever since Izzy Moonbow and her friends brought back magic it’s been like this. I just had to think and the words appeared on the page. It was like I couldn’t stare at a blank page anymore. It always filled itself with writing. Some of the words made sense, some didn’t.
I was a poet. Gloomy Sonnet, beat poet of Bridlewood. For some reason ponies liked the poems I wrote. I never understood it. But I was encouraged, even paid to write. So I did.
I needed that blank page. The world was a myriad of influences. A banal savage place where only the cool or callus really thrived. The blank page put me at ease. On it was nothing. Silence. It was like I was on equal standing with everything on it. I, too, was nothing.
The magic made the words I thought splatter themselves in a cacophonous brick of text. I looked at the spent page and sighed. I had to focus. Or not focus. Letting the words flow is a process. It’s about focusing on not focusing and just going. But it wasn’t going. Not where I wanted.
The page found its way to the trash can on its own as well. All I did was lift my hoof to grab it but it skidded across the rounded pine desk and jumped into the caged can I kept next to me.
It wasn’t going to happen again. I couldn’t write like this. I need to go out and fill my mind with the true underbelly of the town to show others. Maybe the kids were moping limply in the park. That always felt right. It was preparing them for the misery of life.
The door to my log cabin opened itself in anticipation. Like a gaping maw ready to swallow me into the saccharine nightmare this town had become. It was too convenient. Too excited. The magic brought with it a euphoric wave of cheer and hope. It was painful.
I found the playground with my own hooves. I didn’t float there this time. It’s hard suddenly having all your needs fulfilled with just a small inkling.
The foals ran around excitedly, having wars and games and fun. It was so loud. The frustrated bored silence that used to prevail here was perfect to pull inspiration from. It was like the trudge of adulthood. Each day steadily marching, mind blank, mechanically ticking away the time of life. Once dreams die or are achieved there is little motion other than continuing the status quo.
I looked at the trees and the city. It was still the strange backwoods town I grew up in. I heard that the unicorns in the past gave up modern technology in an effort to get back to their roots. I guess they hoped the magic would return to them if they were closer to nature. It didn’t.
Then we had no magic and no convenience either. But I didn’t mind. The only thing I needed was my typewriter. And now the magic was back thanks to some pony named Sunny and I wasn't sure it was that great.
The summer breeze suddenly turned cold. Like a long finger of ice that traced down my spine. I shivered and turned to look where it came from. There was nothing in the dabbled patches of sunlit earth and vibrant green brushes. All was surreally pleasant. I missed my old desaturated world.
The wind blew again and I felt the frozen heart of malice and discontent. It was something I used to seek. I peered into the soft undergrowth. Nothing moved that could bring that wind.
I found a pull within it. A sad, unmasked smell of dissatisfaction. Was it mine or was there something else that felt that? I cautiously made my way through the bramble and twigs that marked the fringe into the woods. My scarf got caught and I nearly lost my beret to it. With a slight adjustment of the angle, I made my way through.
I followed the stark breath of cold as it pulled me further and further into the woods. The birds merrily chirping and playing squirrels added a false sense of safety that I knew was wrong.
A raven squawked its wood-knocking call. It was echoed by others further in. My legs were heavy and the air became cloth. I pressed against the invisible barrier and followed that icy blast.
The air got colder as I crested the rust-colored, crunchy hill. I could see something in a small valley below. A form of some sort. My head began to hurt and my horn glowed. The rich dark blue light was all I could see for a moment.
Then there was a pen. A pen and a notebook hovering in the air in front of me. They were glowing in that strange blue light that was my magic. For a moment I just stared. I didn’t know why they came out. But I thought of opening the notebook which it happily obeyed.
The first few pages were a mess. A bunch of scribbled words and outlines of poetry snippets I had tried. Most were trash. But the last page had a hastily written verse on it.
“The chains ensnare the foolish, Bet nothing you can’t stand to lose, The winner will take all, In autumn’s flight and stiff cold breeze The melodies battle As one crescendos the other is gone. Lost in shadow The chains hold them close Be wise and fear them At each crossroads, the lone darkness stands Desires always steer them.”
I looked at the poem trying to remember if I wrote it. It didn’t seem likely. It wasn’t my normal flow. But each word made me shiver. Something wrote it. And used my pen to do it.
The loam’s crunch heralded another pony. It was far closer to me than it should be. I should have heard it before. But I must have been in a trance.
It was a warm gray mare with a moss green mane. I had seen her around town before. I couldn’t remember ever talking to her but I rarely talk to other ponies. I stared at her and she stared back.
“Hello,” I tried. She cocked her head and raised an eyebrow. I figured this was a normal greeting for ponies. She waggled her ears but said nothing.
“Hello?” I tried again. The head shook but she didn’t respond. Was she a real unicorn or a forest spirit or ghost? It felt like the kind of time ghosts should come out.
Eventually, after a long uninterrupted silence, I turned and marched down the hill. I could hear the unicorn doing the same. I tried to ignore her like she was doing to me. That same rogue cold snap rushed at me from the bent form at the bottom of the hill. Then I saw a hoof.
The hoof was attached to the lying thing on the ground. My heart sank. The cold flowed through the wind and onto my soul. My stomach jumped. The form took shape and I was walking to a pony laying on its side at the bottom of the hill. Then I ran.
The other unicorn started running behind me. The birds stopped chirping. The squirrels weren’t around anymore. The summer sounds fled the scene and all that remained was the crunching of the leaves under our hooves.
The pony wasn’t moving. It wasn’t breathing either. The breath of life stilled and the eyes fixed on some point that the soul fled to. Its face contorted in a permanent scream from a dry, open mouth.
I reached my hoof out and lightly touched the corpse. It was cold. Like touching a rug that’s been in the fridge. I pulled back. My heart quickened. Was there something I should do? Some sort of chest pushing I recalled. But I couldn’t think of it. My mind had gone blank. Like those eyes.
I turned to the pony behind me. She stopped running and stood a bit further behind me. I didn’t know what she wanted. She took a step forward then another back. She looked like she was playing a game but her expression was horrified.
“Do you know that life-saving thing?” I asked. She didn’t respond. She wiggled her ears again strangely. I stared in wonder. It was like watching a dancer as it glided along the stage. Each movement flowed gracefully into the next. I snorted in annoyance. She wasn’t going to be much help.
I decided if there was any pulse at all I would at least make an attempt. I knew it wouldn’t be useful but it was better than saying I watched him die. I placed my hoof on the downed stallion’s neck. I felt nothing. And the head was stuck in that unnatural angle. At that point I realized he was gone.
“Arrgh, stupid twig!” A high-pitched squeaky voice called out from a patch of briar. “Let me go!” The briar shook and out tumbled my worst nightmare. Some sort of cheerleader! It was a unicorn with a bubblegum pink mane and a cool gray coat contrasting the other mare. She wore a neck warmer and hoof warmers.
“Oh there you are,” she cried at the other pony. “What are you doing out here?”
The unicorn wiggled its ears.
“Oh, right I forgot,” the bubblegum one cried. Then she started to wiggle her ears back. I watched these strange unicorns as they wiggled and swirled their heads around. I stood next to the corpse wondering how I got here.
“Oh my! Who are you?” The cheerleader finally said, looking at me.
“Gloomy. Gloomy Sonnet,” I said. It didn’t surprise me. I wasn’t that well known.
“Oh, I’ve heard of you. I’m Lyrica Songstrider, I dance.” She struck a pose like a fashion queen. It seemed strange with a dead body between us.
“Is that what you two were just doing? With your ears?”
“Oh no! We were signing.” Lyrica said with a slight bounce. “She’s deaf.”
“Oh…” I felt stupid. That’s why she didn’t respond to my words. She couldn’t hear them.
“This is my friend, Silent Strokes,” Lyrica went on. “She just ran off and aaaaaaah! Is that a dead unicorn?!”
The gray color drained from her face and her perky pose faulted. It felt like one of those wacky hoof flailing tube ponies as they bobbed through the air.
“Yes,” I said in my normal deadpan voice. I have been told it’s disconcerting. I just normally don’t emote much.
“Did you kill him?!”
“No.”
The unicorn was practically hyperventilating. She shook like a fragile fall leaf on an aspen. Until Silent placed her hoof on her. Her ears moved again as she looked her friend in the eyes.
“I need to calm down?! You just ran off in the middle of a painting to find a dead body with some morbid pony in the middle of the woods!” Lyrica was hopping up and down like a frustrated bouncy ball. Or maybe a basketball.
“The unicorn was dead before we found it,” I told her. She shouldn’t be worried about him. He’s gone. Dead bodies aren’t contagious. Unless sickness killed him. But it didn’t look like a sickness.
“Oh that’s great,” the loud unicorn snarked. “He’s still dead. Why are we just standing around him? Shouldn’t we be calling somepony? Like the peace force?”
“Probably. But we don’t know what happened. We should try to at least get an idea.” I began to look at the ground to see if there was anything that could tell me what. I wasn’t good at this stuff. I just felt I was drawn here so I might as well help. I guess.
“Oh! Look! Hoofprints!” Lyrica was pointing to the ground in front of the deceased. I heard that’s how you’re supposed to refer to them. The deceased. I watched her as she hopped from unseen hoof print to hoof print. “These steps are massive. And it has a small groove next to it.”
A rustle from the ground caught my ear as Silent pulled something out of the brushes. It was a broken fiddle. It looked like it had been smashed with a rock. The strings still held it together but the body was in half and the bridge clung sickly onto them. Silent “said” something.
“You’re right, this must be Fiddling Joe.” Nodded the dancer. I noticed that her ears moved every time she talked like a nervous tick. But she was probably just “talking” to Silent.
“I don’t know much about fiddle players,” I admitted, looking at the roughed-up leaves that marked the trail. “Do they go to strange places to find inspiration too?”
“I don’t know. Hey! What are you doing, Silent?” Her ears twitched with her voice and I realized she was only talking because I was there. Unless she needed to talk to sign. Some ponies are like that.
Silent was halfway down the large hoofed trail and didn’t see Lyrica’s signs. We followed her to catch up.
“I guess we should send the signal now,” I said, hoping that Lyrica could control her magic better than I could.
“Right.” The golden light grew from her horn and shot through the air in a stream of sparklers. She was a show pony through and through.
We caught up with Silent and followed the tracks.
It was a four-way corner. They're known as crossroads and I remember reading they can be very dangerous at night. I didn’t know why though. That’s where the trail ended. There was no sign that the maker had come from anywhere. Or at least that’s what Lyrica said. Silent made a sullen pouting face.
“This is where it started. Both of them were here,” the once perky pony said. She had whined the entire trek. The path was too rocky. This was going to chip my hooves. The town's ponies were going to think we did it. What if we come across the real killer?
I found solace in my mind. The world can disappear and I might not notice. I found the silence in my head calming. It’s like the blank page. It helps me get ready for the poetry to flow. But the sudden arrival at the crossroads stopped my thoughts.
“Do you feel that? Well, Silent wants to know.” Lyrica looked at me with an eyebrow raised. Her face waited to see if I could sense this “crazy feeling” that her friend could.
I walked around the site and felt that cold feeling in the air again. I walked around it to see how large the spot was.
“Yes,” I said flatly. She looked at me longer, waiting for me to elaborate. It was a common assumption. I waited for the look to fade or for her to speak. Eventually, she turned back to Silent.
“Well what do we do now?” she asked verbally and with ear gestures. They were returned. “Why were you there, Gloomy? And what were you writing?”
“I kind of felt the type of cold that touches your soul and threatens to make your heart sink. So I followed it.”
Lyrica’s mouth dropped open in response. “You felt something like that and followed it?! Why would you do that? You should have run away.”
“I don’t. Most of the inspiring things I find are when you’re supposed to run away. They are the true world around us. If I don’t stop and find them, others won’t truly know what the world is like.”
It was like a sacred calling. Somepony had to show the world as it is. To not be afraid of the bad things so we can know. That part of life that is overlooked and left in the shadows.
The wind grew a little cold after my speech and Silent began to sign more furiously. There was a strange gleam in her eyes. She ran to one side of the road then the other. It was almost like a frantic dance.
The cold began to seep into my joints. It was a reminder of what growing old and frail would be like. Every so often I would catch something dark out of the corner of my eye. Some sort of black mass. I wondered if the others noticed it.
“Can you two crazy ponies stop? I think I’ve seen all I want to see. Can we go home now?” Lyrica’s voice cut in and out thanks to the wind but I could make out the gist of it. She kept glancing around and backed away from the cold that hung by the crossroads sign.
Silent’s ears flopped but she nodded. She looked at me and scuffed the ground a little. Her ears flew into motion again.
“She wants to know if you want to join us. She has some paintings she would like you to see.” Lyrica was already trotting down the street.
“Ok” I had nothing better to do. I doubted my typewriter would work any better after this excursion than it normally did.
We arrived at Silent’s studio without much difficulty. It was a long trek back. I thought about our experience and wondered why Silent had followed me to the body. Lyrica said that she was painting and suddenly left. Did the same feeling that drew me draw her?
“Well studio, sweet studio,” Lyrica said, hugging the building. The studio was a large windowed square made from planks of pine. Most of the unicorn town was similarly made. It felt old. That normally meant it had a lot of character.
We entered and were immediately accosted by a descending staircase. I nearly tripped forward down it. But my normally calm demeanor saved me. I tend to walk into situations not expecting things so that when an unexpected thing happens I can react to it. If I hadn’t expected this staircase I would have found the concrete floor with my snout.
The home was pretty open. There weren't that many walls but the next floor held an enclosed loft. I presumed the bedroom was up there. The rest of the home was visible from the entrance. Well except the bathroom and shower room. I guessed they were behind one of those doors in the back.
The house was covered in paintings. The walls had been filled already and there were stacks of old, used canvases. In the middle of the home was a large paint-stained easel with a few blank canvases leaning on it.
I passed by the first painting I saw. It was black and twisted. The ponies on it were distorted and contorted... They didn’t look like they were in pain. Their expressions were blank as if this was normal to be. I wondered if that was the point. A bent world where ponies thought it was fine to be twisted like a corkscrew. It was highly relatable...
I felt a tap on my shoulder and found Silent on the other end of the hoof. She glanced back and forth between the painting and me. Then raised her eyebrows. It was a silent question.
“I find them emotionally provocative,” I said flatly.
Silent turned and looked at Lyrica. My thoughts were translated into a series of gestures. They were answered in a smug smirk.
“That’s what she was going for,” the dancer explained from the soft cotton couch. She had sprawled herself on it and looked worn out from our investigation. “Would you like something Gloomy? Some water or soda or wine? Like a really tall glass. Like this one.”
Lyrica lifted her hoof and displayed a glass the size of a small punch bowl. It was filled with a dark red liquid I assumed was wine.
I shook my head. Silent grabbed my hoof and started to usher me around her studio. I thought my forehoof was going to fall off from her tugs. The darkness in the paints reflected my thoughts on life. Life could get gritty, mean, and nasty. Especially if you’re different. I wondered if Silent had similar experiences to my own.
Most ponies thought I was strange. I didn’t emote. I looked at things differently. I wasn’t scared of silly things like monsters or curses or even saying mayonnaise. I couldn’t relate to them. So they discarded me. They liked my poetry though. It was in a medium where ponies expected something different to exist and that’s where I could. It felt more like they were just placating me. They wanted me to feel like I was useful somehow. I had a hard time seeing it.
Art was similar. Silent had followed the same path and visually represented my conclusions. I could feel each painting as a reflection of my suffering in life. Well, at least the ones here. I glanced at the ones on the floor and noticed a much brighter cast. I wondered what inspired them.
Silent tapped her hoof on the floor to get my attention. I was not expecting a deaf pony to use sound for that. She pointed at a large painting still on the easel. I followed her over to it and felt my heart freeze.
It was a rust-colored landscape with a valley very much like the one we found the body in. There was a shadow creeping in the middle. A soul-sucking shadow that felt like it could sense me through the painting. I shivered again.
Silent nodded and pointed to her painting. She looked over at Lyrica, the little mare had collapsed on the couch. The wine must have gotten to her. The mute pony scuffed her hoof on the floor. Her horn glowed a bright magenta as a notepad and brush whizzed by also glowing. She seemed to have better control than I.
The brush danced across the page. There was a look of annoyance on her face. She looked back up at me and floated the result in my view.
“What do you think? Did you see this too?”
I shook my head. The brush sped back into action.
“Then how did you know where to go? And what were you writing when I saw you?”
“It was the cold…” I stopped myself. Silent wouldn’t understand me. I reached for my notebook which flew out of my bag and struck me in the face. Silent looked at me with a smile but a confused expression.
I scrawled back. “The cold wind brought me there and this poem kind of wrote itself.”
“The painting was like that too. What was the poem?”
The pages flipped so rapidly that I felt the small breeze they produced. They stopped dead at that poem. Then the notebook turned and sped into Silent’s face. She winced and glared at me. Then she slowly turned her eyes back to the notebook.
The brush went wild again and the notepad popped up.
“I think I know what did this. This poem sounds very much like him. But I’m not sure of everything yet.”
The notepad flew to my hooves again and the pen displayed the one thought I had. “Who?”
Silent looked over to her bookshelf and a volume slowly made its way towards us. I marveled at her control. How come I couldn’t get a hang of this magic? It opened itself in that magenta field and turned itself to an entry on legends of the road.
“One of the most feared and reviled creatures that haunt the fairways is the Chain Pony or Old Ironsteps. It is said that if you meet a dark shadowy figure at the crossroads at midnight it is probably the Chain Pony. He’s known to solicit travelers into deals. He gives what the ponies desire but only for a price. Mostly the price includes your magic, chained to him forever with the chains he wears around his legs.’
“A pony can avoid the fee of this deal by challenging Old Ironsteps to a bet. They bet normally with their cutie mark talent. The Chain Pony relishes defeating ponies at their own skill. If the pony wins they still get their desires filled at no cost to them. But if the pony loses Old Ironsteps pulls every last bit of magic from their mind, body, and soul. ‘
“Many claimed to have seen the chain pony wandering the crossroads around Bridlewood. After the magic left, tales of the Chain Pony all but ceased. Most believe he was never real to begin with. Others say he doesn’t have any magic to steal.”
“The Chain Pony...” I muttered in thought.
“The what?” asked a sleepy voice from the couch. Lyrica sat up and rubbed her eyes. I forgot she was in the room at all.
“Silent thinks the killer was the Chain Pony,” I reiterated, as she sat up on the couch. “Here read this.”
The book changed from pink to blue as my will took over. But the book dropped on the floor then skidded to Lyrica’s hooves.
“Oook?” the sleepy unicorn drawled out as she looked down at it. “Is this, like, a joke or something? You could just have given it to me directly.”
I turned away, trying to disguise my reddened face. I glanced over at Silent who just stared with concern and curiosity. Magic was part of our lives. We were unicorns. But for some reason, I couldn’t connect to it as easily. Even to magic, I was different.
“And you both think this Chain Pony thing is killing ponies?” Lyrica wiggled her ears in time with her speech. It looked like something she was used to doing. Like a habit. I guess having a deaf friend would cause that.
Silent nodded. I simply looked at the ground. If the Chain Pony was real perhaps it was back to take our magic. Maybe that’s what happened to it in the first place. Maybe it could take mine.
“Well you would know better than me,” Lyrica sighed. “You’ve been into this stuff since you were a foal.”
“What stuff?”
“Ghost, monsters, where our magic went,” Lyrica groggily swished her wine glass around. “Silent has been trying to prove this stuff is real for years. I thought it was kind of silly but now we have our magic back. So I guess anything is possible. Has she shown you her paintings yet?”
I nodded. “They are thought-provoking. I can relate to her twisted sense of society.”
“Oh. Those,” Lyrica scratched the back of her neck. “Of course she would show you those. But she did a totally different style before she was inspired. They’re in the back room. You should see.”
I turned to Silent who had a look of annoyance or embarrassment. I couldn’t figure out which. She beckoned me to the back while Lyrica slumped into the couch still reading the book.
The backroom felt too personal. It was small and only lit. The white walls felt grey in the sparse lighting. It felt like I entered somepony’s bedroom or maybe a secret kind of altar.
The paintings in this room had none of the intensity or emotion behind them. They were dark but in a different manner. My jaw dropped as I beheld the high level of detail they bore. They were supernatural creatures, at least I think they were. I never studied that stuff.
Silent was a master of hyperrealism. The slimy imp pulling itself out of a bog looked like it had me dead in its sights. I could almost feel the delicate ethereal strands of a ghost pony’s wedding veil. And the fierce glow of a flower fairy had me almost squinting.
“These are amazing.” I’m not sure if Silent read my lips but she looked down and crossed her forehooves. Then she pointed to a horrific-looking chain-covered stallion. It had red glowing eyes and was made entirely of wrought iron.
“That’s what you think is behind this?” I stared at the horrendous-looking creature full of malice and hatred. Who would approach something like that? For any reason.
“Gloomy? Could you put this back?” The demanding pony asked from the other room. I walked out and found her levitating the book to me, watching me with keen interest. I was able to catch it with my magic. I took a deep breath. I knew where it went; it was just a matter of getting it there. Nicely.
The bookshelf loomed in the distance as my blue encircled tome floated its merry way. It wasn’t too bad. A little wobble here and there. The slot was a few inches away and I changed the book’s orientation to vertical. Somehow that increased its speed and it jammed itself into the opening with enough force to empty the rest of the shelf.
“Oh dear, I will clean it up,” I said with no haste or variance. I slowly made my way over and Silent mirrored my intent.
I began to lift the volumes one by one but every time I reached my hooves out my magic grabbed it first. It was frustrating. It felt like some spirit was trying to mess with me. I knew it was just my will.
I tried to ignore Silent’s look of growing concern on her face. I focused on the books themselves. Most of them were art books with various painting techniques. A lot of them were folklore and mythology. There were a smattering of cookbooks.
Then I noticed one I knew very well. A small brown volume wrapped in leather. It looked careworn and had bookmarks in some places. My magic grabbed it and brought it to me in the blink of an eye. “A study in Darkness, poetry, and prose by Gloomy Sonnet.” It was something I had been asked by many ponies to release. It did well for a book of poems.
The book glowed a brilliant purple as a magenta flash and my blue one merged. The book vanished then reappeared securely on the shelf. Silent’s face was beet red. It emphasized the red tone in her coat. The fan’s ears flew into action to the point that Lyrica was clearly having trouble following.
“Slow down,” the translator cried to the deaf pony. “Ok, she said she was really inspired by your works and that a lot of the pieces she has up are from specific poems. That’s why she switched styles. The one she showed you first was from ‘A sentence creeps like mist.’”
“That doesn’t make sense. My work is trivial at best. I don’t see why it would inspire her.” I didn’t know how to respond to resonating with somepony. It just didn’t feel real.
Silent was silent. Normally others' art or creative endeavors just feel me with sadness. They reflect a talent I could never achieve. They had a voice and purpose. They held meaning. I looked at the paintings my poems supposedly inspired. I could see the voice. I could see the grand message in the strokes. It made my poems flat and ineffectual by comparison.
“I think she captured the subject better than I ever could.” I waited to see a look of pride and understanding. Instead, Silent’s face looked shocked and horrified. Her ears twitched and began a slew of movements I could barely see.
“‘I don’t understand’” the translation came with a huskier voice. Maybe she was imitating Silent’s demeanor? “‘This is from you. How could I do it better? I don’t think you understand how great you are.’”
I stood still. Great? I was just a poet. One that couldn’t even write at this point. I was far from great. But the pony in front of me didn’t smirk or flinch. She was being sincere. I looked away. I didn’t know how to respond to that.
“So huh, even if it was this Chain Pony, what are we going to do about it?” Lyrica jumped in between us, whether to offset the awkwardness or make herself more prominent I was not sure.
Silent responded.
“Catch it or chase it away?!” Lyrica gasped. Her blood left her face and her legs trembled a little. Or maybe it was just the way she moved in her leg warmers. “We don’t know how to do that. It could kill us too.”
“Not unless we make a deal with it.” I pointed out. Silent nodded in agreement. “It seems like it only kills or hurts those that make the deal or the bet. If we don’t it shouldn’t have any cause to hurt us.”
“Just because it doesn’t hurt others if they don’t make the deal doesn’t mean it won’t if we attack it.”
“I don’t know what our options are. Maybe we should look at the library or find somepony who knows this stuff. Like a holy pony.” I didn’t think running into battle with a deadly spirit was a good idea. I’m not a fighter. Well not physically. I fought the darkness by exposing it.
Silent’s ears dropped. Proving these things existed was really important to her. She threw her hooves in the air and rolled her eyes.
“A holy pony huh? I don’t know where one is but I do know a very old unicorn.” Lyrica’s ears moved seamlessly with her speech. It has only been a few hours but I found myself getting used to it.
Silent’s ears responded immediately. They swished through the air in quick succinct slashes. I wondered what was going on.
“Yes. Him. Who else would I be talking about?” Lyrica waved a dismissive hoof. “He’s not that bad. And I don’t think he leers at you.”
The look on Silent’s face disagreed. She looked the most uncomfortable I had seen her yet and we found a dead body earlier. This old stallion must be pretty unbearable.
“Silent,” I ventured. “If you feel that uncomfortable you can stay here and we could go.”
The harsh face I received told me the response before Lyrica translated. “No way!”
“Then stick with me and I’ll make sure he’s decent.” I wasn’t sure how I could do that but I could try. Maybe the stallion would like a different pony to look at. I didn’t care about that much.
Silent’s features softened a bit then returned to their defiant expression from before. Her ears started to swing again. Perhaps I should learn sign language.
“I can fight my own battles but thanks for trying to help. I can deal with Old Stallion Wispy.” Her translated speech corresponded to the look of determination she wore.
“Well it’s the only lead we have,” the spunky pony added in her own words. “Ready?”
Silent and I nodded. This was not exactly how I expected to find a new poem.
Old Stallion Wispy lived in a small shack on the corner of town. The woods that bordered his home were tall dark hemlock. They draped their branches over the home like they were trying to take it for themselves. The house had slightly tipped to one side as one of their roots grew under the opposite side. A crow cawed as we approached.
“I like it,” I declared. It held the same decaying, off-balanced, view of the world I resonated with. It wasn’t natural to try to control the forces of nature. Letting it have free reign seemed to make sense to me. Of course, I still kept my home neat and orderly so it was more of a dream idea I couldn’t actually live by.
“Yeah, if you like creepy,” Lyrica tsked. I wondered if she ever read any of my poems.
“I do,” I said flatly.
“Well maybe you and Old Stallion Wispy will get along then,” Lyrica said, as she rapped on the door. It was followed by a pulpy wood sound. The door probably should be replaced but it had character.
“Who’s knocking at my door?” shrieked an old crotchety voice. “Stop whacking it, you’ll put a hole in it.
The door shuddered and shook then popped open in violent motion. I stood still as it swung by inches from my face. Then I joined the others in stepping back. I don’t have good reflexes.
“Fillies?! Three fillies no less,” the tiny withered unicorn eyed us up and down. Then his eyes stopped on Silent. “Well, sweetie back for more eh? Maybe this time you’ll talk to me.”
I noticed that Lyrica didn’t sign any of this and Silent looked at me in askance. I could say anything to her with my ears. But I hoped my expression confirmed her suspicions. I didn’t like that Lyrica was keeping it from her.
“Come in, come in my beauties,” Old Stallion Wispy said with a wave of his hoof. “What brings you to Wispy’s house.”
I didn’t move. Silent followed suit and Lyrica paused mid-step when she noticed us still standing. She returned back to the line we had unconsciously formed.
“What’s the matter? My home not good enough for you?” Wispy grumped when we didn’t enter.
“It’s nice outside. I feel better out here.” I hoped it didn’t sound rude, but it was nice out. Despite my fondness for aesthetics, the home didn’t seem structurally sound.
“Well, I guess if the cute little filly wants to enjoy the weather then this old stallion can accommodate.” He stepped off the lip of the home and stood next to us. The raised home had made him look taller. As he stood next to us I realized he only came up to my shoulder. “So what brings you all to my little home?”
“Did you happen to hear about the body they found in the woods earlier?” Lyrica asked with her ears signing the entire time.
“No can’t say I have,” Wispy stroked the white stalk of mane he still had. “But what does that have to do with me? Or you lot for that matter?”
I looked at Silent with concern. She mirrored my expression after Lyrica’s translation. Lyrica was unphased. “We’re thinking of making a detective agency. This is our first case.”
I tried to let the shock not show on my face. I succeeded. I didn’t think about doing this more than once. I assumed this was a strange coincidence, nothing more.
“Case huh? Awww that’s cute. Are ya thinking I’m yer suspect?” The sarcasm couldn’t be any plainer. I couldn’t fault him. It sounded far-fetched even for somepony like Lyrica.
“Oh no,” Lyrica continued, not noticing any of the snark. “We have a good idea who did it.”
“Oh, what sneaky, evil unicorn do ya think lurks through the trees?”
“The Chain Pony.” The mention of his name alone brought a cold wind. The three of us shivered at its passing. Old Stallion Wispy shook more.
“Don’t say that name!” He snapped. “Don’t talk about him outside. Are ya fools? Don’t ya know how close to a crossroads we are?”
I fell silent. The deaf pony behind me looked at me in confusion because Lyrica was cringing and backing away. I couldn’t translate or tell her anything.
“Let’s go to the park,” he growled. He turned and marched away.
Silent and I began to follow. “What is wrong with you two!?” Lyrica cried jumping in front of us. “Did you see that reaction?!” Her ears cut through the air with sharp movements. Her face was overtly stern. “You think this is something we should still be involved in?!”
“You want it to happen to somepony else?” I asked with no heat whatsoever.
“I don’t want it to happen to me!” Lyrica looked hysterical.
Silent walked over to her and placed a hoof on her shoulder. The deaf pony’s ears gently moved as her friend beheld her.
“You really think we can do this?” The wordless pony moved her ears in response. “I know. I know you two have some sort of weird power. You both got visions. That doesn’t mean we have to fight it.”
“It feels like we are supposed to do something about it,” I said, agreeing with Silent.
Lyrica looked back at us and began to wilt. She swallowed then fell in line with the rest of us.
The park wasn’t as cold as before. No foals were playing now. The sunburnt grass contrasted the bright blue of the hoof-painted playground equipment. Hoof-painted. That’s something I won’t see anymore. Not now that the magic is back.
We took a seat on the spinning roundabout. Each of us took a section. I took blue. Old Stallion Wispy sat on the yellow side across from me. Silent and Lyrica sat next to me.
The roundabout began to slowly spin as Old Stallion Wispy’s magic took over. The world began to blur as the speed increased. It was just a little faster but not nauseating.
“Why are we spinning?” Lyrica asked. I wasn’t sure if it was her or Silent.
“It helps keep others from hearing. Especially…him,” Wispy’s voice was grave and my blood ran cold for a second. “You fillies are messing in something that was stalking us long before we lost our magic. He has always been at the crossroads. He always waits to make deals. He left when our magic was gone but now it’s back and so is he.”
“So what can we do about it?” I asked as I watched Lyrica start to turn greenish. “Also Lyrica is getting sick.”
“Fine! We’ll just hope it doesn’t hear us.” The roundabout stopped. I shifted a little as the g-forces pulled but my magic took hold and slid me to the far end of my seat.
Old Stallion Wispy cocked an eyebrow at me and shook his head. “I don’t know why I’m encouraging this. The chain pony is ancient. Few things can scare it away or hurt it. If we had a sword of radiant friendship, that would work. But the only thing I can think of is the Bell of Bridlewood.”
“The bell of Bridlewood?” Lyrica asked, her ears unconsciously moving. Silent began to respond before Wispy and Lyrica brightened in recognition. “Oh, the big bell in the courtyard.”
“What is that filly doing with her ears?” the stallion asked, stroking his dwindling mane.
“Talking,” I informed. “She’s deaf.”
“Really?! Why did she tell me?! Oh right,” the old unicorn glanced at the ground. “That explains why I haven’t been whacked yet.”
“Whacked?”
“Most of the fillies I hit on whack me. It’s just a game I like to play. It don’t mean nothing. Ya all could be my grandfoals. But she never hit me no matter what I said. So I might have tried ta press her harder. Guess that doesn’t make sense much. I’ll just leave ‘er alone.”
The grey-haired pony shook his locks. “Anyway, she’s right. The ol’ bell is the one in the courtyard covered in moss and vines. It’s the ol’ heart of this here town. Folks used to ring it fer important events or celebrations. But after the magic left there was little use fer it.”
“Do you think they would let us borrow it?” Lyrica asked. She still looked nervous. I wasn’t sure she wanted to use it to get rid of the chain pony so much as just keep herself safe.
“Ha! Like anypony would notice,” Wispy scoffed. “But if ya run out there and grab it now, folks would be mighty confused. Probably make ‘em worse if ya told them what it was fer.”
“So much for the easy way,” sighed the dejected dancer.
“Should we sneak it out tonight then?” I recommended. The bell was large enough that two of us had to carry it. “We could meet at my place after dark. Nopony comes over and it’s relatively isolated.”
“You think you three are a match fer the chain pony?” the old pony snorted. He hopped off the roundabout. There was a slight wiggle as he dismounted. “If I was you I would grab yer favorite stuffed animals.”
“Stuffed animals?” Lyrica turned to me in confusion. I just shrugged. I’m a poet not an expert on crazy stallions.
“Yeah, and stick by them in yer bed.” Wispy got off the roundabout. “But what do I know? I’m just the strange old unicorn that warns ponies of this stuff right?”
He began to trot away. Paused then looked back at us. “If yer not going ta follow my advice then at least stick close ta yer dancing friend there. She’s the only one of ya that has sense.”
He walked away. The sun’s light began to die as his form morphed into the dark shadows of the woods. It was like he was a specter himself.
I looked at my new comrades. Lyrica was shaking a little and Silent stared at the center of the roundabout. None of us spoke or communicated. Fate was testing our resolve.
“Are we really going to do this?” Lyrica finally asked the two of us. She pitched forward on a roundabout handle.
“Well, we have more of an idea what to do..”
“‘We must do this!’” Lyrica cried in a raspy voice.
“Why are you talking like that?”
“It’s what Silent sounds like to me in my head,” shrugged the despondent unicorn. “I use that voice so you know it’s her talking, not me.”
“This job is ours,” the raspy voice continued. “‘I can feel it. We were given gifts. You and I. We don’t know if Lyrica has them. We need to get that bell and defeat this demon.’”
Lyrica sighed. She looked at me like a lost puppy. I glanced at Silent. The unicorn’s eyes said it all. She was going to go the distance no matter what.
“I guess we could,” I said with an unchanging tone. It’s not like I had much writing to do anyway.
“Ok, it’s going to get cold and dark soon. We should get some warmer gear and think stealthy,” Lyrica commanded.
I arrived at the town square next to the candle shop. The air was visible as I breathed. Summer here wasn’t very warm in the forest. It still dipped to a light chilly temperature at night.
A light tap on my shoulder turned my head. Silent waved with a slight smile. She was wearing a leather jacket, dark makeup, and even those fishnet stockings on her forehooves. It looked more eye-catching rather than stealthy.
“What in the world is wrong with you two?” I was momentarily stunned. For a moment I thought Silent just yelled at me. Then I made out the Lyrica-shaped shadow behind her. “You look like you're going to a rave,” the shadow yelled at Silent. “And you’re wearing red for stealth!”
Her ears had twitched and moved the entire time. I wonder if Silent could even see it in the dark. It must be hard to communicate with gestures at night. Especially when the pony “talking” was wearing jet black from head to hoof. Only her light grey face was visible.
“It’s the only coat I own,” I countered. I looked back at my red woolen pea coat and sighed. It conveyed the feeling I wanted to give but that feeling didn’t matter on stealth missions. I should have grabbed my black turtleneck in hindsight.
“Ok ok, let’s just get this over with,” the shadow sighed.
The three of us entered the abandoned town square. Street lights surrounded the vine-laden bell. It seemed like we could just march in and take it. It felt too easy.
“So how are we going to do this?” I asked the darkness.
“I thought you had a plan or something?” the stealthy unicorn whined.
“Why would I have a plan?”
“I thought you were the leader type.” Lyrica appeared from the shadows and into the street lights. The dark cloth she wore pulled the light in like a black hole.
I opened my mouth to answer when the Bell of Bridlewood clanked dully. The faint twang of the metal reverberating echoed in the square. I felt a soft warmth spread through my body. It was calming. At ease. Peaceful.
The sense was disturbing. My normal feelings of isolation and brooding were gone. I felt… happy. I wanted to explore this sensation but it left as the bell's tones faded away.
“Silent!” hissed Lyrica with her ears moving rapidly. “What do you think you’re doing?!”
The bell wrapped itself in a magenta bubble. No sound escaped it. Could Silent actually silence things? The sound of our hooves was deafening in comparison as we rushed over to help.
Lights from the surrounding homes began to turn on. Harsh voices of confusion filled the air. It was a sea of anger roaring at the awful forces of evil that disturbed it. It wasn’t going to be long until we were caught and drowned.
“What are we going to do?” The panicked ninja whined.
I felt something. Something deep and electric. It was like water but tingled like when my hooves fall asleep from laying on them. It rose from the base of my stomach up through to the top of my horn. My whole body tingled. Then blue light erupted from my horn and another bubble wrapped around us.
My legs shook and sweat formed on my brow. I felt a charge as my sphere melded with Silent’s. It was like static electricity amped up.
Unicorns ran out of their houses to stare at us in the middle of the square. They stopped a few feet from our spheres. A red stallion turned to the others and spoke. I couldn’t hear it. All I could hear was my heartbeat in my ears. The other unicorns looked around us and through us but didn’t seem to see us at all.
“What are you doing? What spell is that?” Lyrica cried.
“I …don’t…know,” I gasped. It felt so heavy. I was beginning to get dizzy. I closed my eyes to concentrate.
“You’re right, Silent, I think this is an invisibility sphere. Now they can’t see us or hear us. We should take the bell and go. Now! Before Gloomy passes out.” Lyra started to push me into motion. I stumbled towards the thicket of darkness.
Silent and I lifted the wooden ends of the bell off its display stand. A golden glow from Lyrica’s horn snapped the vines and twigs of age from its body. We started the slow march out of town still wrapped in our blue pink spheres.
The world blurred with each step. I felt like my body was being pressed to the ground by the bell. I glanced over at Silent who was doing a lot better than I. She was sweating too but she walked with a steady gait. Her eyes locked on mine for a second and she pointed with her ear towards the woods.
I shakily nodded and moved my rubber legs into motion. I felt like I was drunk. My body wobbled back and forth. The blue energy started to flicker as we left the square.
“Just hang on a little further, Gloomy you’re doing great,” Lyrica cheered. Silent’s spell made the sound of her voice echo around us like being in a small cave. It sounded like Lyrica’s cheer came from everywhere.
The world was starting to fade as we entered the woods. The blue sphere fizzed out and my body did as well. I tripped on the first root I walked near and fell into the soft litter of pine needles. The bell nearly landed on top of me but rolled out of the way. Silent’s sphere kept sound from resonating through the town.
“Gloomy? Are you ok? That spell was brilliant. I didn’t know you could do that.” Lyrica placed a hoof on my back and spoke directly into my ear.
“I … didn’t…either.” I huffed the pine scent and waited for the world to slow down.
“We should get going soon. We have to get the bell back before anypony notices it’s missing.” Lyra pulled her dark costume off in a yellow flash.
I staggered to get up and felt Silent’s hooves push me. It wasn’t a rough push but a firm one. I followed her lead. My hooves moved forward. I followed the warm grey blur in front of me and let the cool grey one push me.
“Where is the bell?” I muttered as I stumbled through the crunching blanket of needles.
“I have it.” Lyrica stepped out of the way to reveal the bell leading the way in a golden yellow glow. She wasn’t even sweating.
“How can you do that? It must weigh a ton.”
“I don’t know. I just could lift stuff like this with my magic. Can’t you do it?”
I shook my head. I could barely control the telekinesis let alone lift anything bigger than a can of beans. It was like watching a weightlifter just casually lift a block of concrete while I couldn’t lift the bar.
The moonlight painted the woods in a black and white painting. It washed the color out of the world. Everything was dark or light. There was no room for grey.
The road was in view and the air began to freeze the soul. If I didn’t believe the chain pony was real then the scene would have convinced me. We made our way down the street next to where we discovered the body. Though I am not one inclined to be scared by outside events my blood ran cold and I shivered. It was an odd sensation. I analyzed it for later use in my poems.
Silent practically pronged down the street. I couldn’t guess what was in her head. We were looking for a demon, not a food stand. She was far ahead on the road. For pony that couldn’t hear us, I thought it wasn’t very sensible.
“Eeep,” whispered Lyrica. It was odd to hear a sound like that still whispered. “Look ahead on the road.”
“What is it?!” I whispered back.
“I don’t know! It has huge eyes!”
Lyrica was frozen in fear staring down the dusty road. I looked in the same direction and saw it. A large pair of green shiny eyes. I squinted into the darkness. I could just make out the silhouette of the creature when it flew at us.
“Eep!” The bell clanged on the ground as Lyrica ducked and threw her hooves over her head. A small tone rang out and I noticed a strange ripple in the air as it echoed out.
The eyes soared into the sky and the body was easily seen in the moonlight. An old owl flew through the night sky. I breathed a sigh of relief. Then looked for the cowering pony. “Lyrica?”
The wind blew any whispered answer away. It got cold. Very cold. The fur along my spine stood on end. I looked around for my friends but couldn’t see either of them.
“Lyrica? Silent? Where are you, girls?!” My voice was a harsh whisper. It cut through the air in a panicked wave. Nothing moved. The normal night sounds were silent.
Then I felt it. The ground shook a little and I heard a thud that nearly stopped my heart. It was followed by another. Then a strange grinding dragging sound. The wind howled. My body began to shake.
A whooshing sound whipped through the air faster than I could even acknowledge it. The deep cold wrapped around my body and pulled me to the ground. The dust-filled my nose and eyes. I didn’t know what was going on. My body was freezing.
The stomping grew louder at steady intervals. Soon it was inches from my face. I could hear the ragged breathing and bursts of air through its nose. The very ground froze.
“Hello, little unicorn. I sense ya are lookin’ fer me.” The air cracked with that putrid voice. I looked up and saw a form darker than the night sky. It was a massive Clydesdale with glowing red eyes and a large brown hat. He looked down on me like one would a bug.
“Ya think ya can defeat me with some silly bell. Ya fooling’ yerself filly. I am eternal. I have always been here.” The voice froze the blood in my veins. I shook like a leaf. I never felt such horror. Those red eyes burned into my soul and told me nothing would get better.
“Yer friends were smart and ran off. It’s jest you and me.” I felt the cold squeeze me like a python. I looked at my body finally tearing away from those evil eyes. There was a chain wrapped around me like a tentacle. I couldn’t move. I could barely breathe. I gasped at the hoofs of the massive demon.
“I could destroy ya with jest a sneeze. Ya can’t even control yer magic. Yer like a foal running inta trouble cause they ain’t got the sense ta know yer in ova’ yer pretty little head.”
The chains squeezed again and lifted me in the air. I was inches from those burning eyes. I barely noticed my beret fall off to the ground.
“Don’t worry. I ain’t gonna kill ya. I’m gonna help ya. I can help ya get that magic under control. Maybe make ya write some of the greatest poems yer town has ever known.”
The voice was still low but had a strange softness to it. It felt like a creature that was only attacking because it was cornered. I felt a pang of guilt. It was only defending itself. I was the attacker, not it.
“See? I’m not all bad. All ya need ta do is give me some of yer magic from time ta time. Ya don’t even want it. If I take some I’m sure you’ll have more control. And you get a nice gift ta boot.”
It sounded nice. All I needed was a little less magic and I could control it. And the inspiration to write and control to write it. I could return to the life I knew before this magical interruption.
“So little filly, what do ya say? Do we have a deal?” The eyes increased in brightness. The red faded to bright pink. The chain pony didn’t even seem as cold. I felt numb and excited. I could have all I wanted.
“No!”
“What in the hay?!”
A shout roared through the darkness behind me. It was Lyrica with her eyes ablaze. She glowed in a field of gold. The darkness around me broke and I could see Silent laying on the ground in similar chains to mine. Lyrica was advancing with a chain sliding limply off of her.
The dancer touched the chains that bound Silent and me. A streak of golden light ran up them and I was filled with warmth. The chains loosened and dropped off. The road, forest, and my friends were right there. I shook my head to clear that awful voice.
“What is goin’ on? How can ya do that? Are ya a celestial? If ya are ya have ta tell me. There’s a truce and these fillies came on their own.” The chain pony’s voice still stung my ears.
“I may be pretty but I’m not a Celestial,” my friend cried. Silent started to rouse as well and we stood near her.
“An infernal then? This here is my beat. Ya best get yer own.” The chain pony’s eyes glowed a dark red like a deep pit of magma. His chains lifted like a spider threatening attackers.
“As if,” Lyrica spat. “I’m not anything divine. I am a dancer.”
“What?” The chains shook slightly in surprise.
“I dance. Mostly lyrical but ballet too. And some hip hop.” Lyrica was talking in her normal enthusiastic tone. She was having a normal conversation with a demon.
“I see.” A chain reached over and scratched his head. “Well whoever ya are. Ya, mind letting me do my job? And make some deals?”
“These are my friends! And you’re bad news,” Lyrica turned up her nose at the demon.
The chain’s lashed out and smashed the dancer in the face. It happened so fast the unicorn barely saw it coming. She flew through the air and flopped on the dusty road behind us.
Silent immediately ran after her. I followed but the chain caught me by the leg. I could feel that cold filling me, making life seem useless, fruitless. Nothing was good anymore. My friends would probably die in this fight. I would follow them.
“I said stop!” Lyrica burst through again and the chain came off. “You two get the bell ready. I’ll cover you.”
“What? How?” I asked the grey blur as it passed. Instead of an answer, Silent’s hoof began pulling me up.
Golden sparks erupted in front of my eyes as the chains bounced impotently off an equally golden shield in front of me. Lyrica’s magic flowed out her horn and pumped more magic into the defensive spell.
“I didn’t know you could do that!” I cried as the chains returned. The small slivers of glowing magic filled the air again. I followed Silent’s pull and moved away from the battle.
“Neither did I” Lyrica admitted then shrieked as another chain struck the shield. “But I don’t think I can for long. Will you two please get that bell working?!”
I looked at Silent who nodded at me. She powered up the multicolored horn on her head. Then her magenta aura wrapped itself around the landmark resting on the ground. The bell slowly lifted off the ground. Sweat poured off her brow as she pleaded with me to help. I didn’t need to know sign language to understand.
I tried my best to focus. The chain pony’s whinny sheared through my ears. The explosions of magical defenses protecting us shook my hooves. Silent’s soul-piercing plea ate at my heart. I wasn’t sure I could help at all.
Magical bits of golden shards flew past me as the defense spell shattered. Lyrica began to fall. Silent cried a voiceless scream. The bell was in mid-air and I had to do something. I pulled my mind from doubt and just did. The blue magic I carried wrapped around the instrument. It fused with Silent’s. Together we pulled the weapon up and looked in defiance at the irate fiend.
“Now!” I cried and hoped Silent understood my signal. We both shook the large clapper and slammed it into the silver edge of the bell.
The sound carried with it that warm feeling I felt before we stole it. This time my entire body vibrated with its mighty tone. A shockwave of blue and magenta energy pulsed through the air striking the chain demon. It screamed in annoyance and frustration. Dark shadows and mist erupted from its form. It scattered to the wind like black ash. It was beautiful.
The bell fell from our magical grasp with an unwarming clang. Silent winked at me and I nodded back. Then she looked down at the fallen pony in front of us and froze. Her eyes widened and she dropped to the ground next to our fallen comrade.
I followed her example and hoped Lyrica wasn’t struck. Those chains looked like they could do more than injure a pony. Silent was pressing her hooves all over Lyrica’s body. She looked at me with tears in her eyes.
I looked closer, the dancer’s eyes were open and she was looking at the horizon. They were empty. It looked similar to the body we found earlier. But she was still breathing at least.
Silent tugged on my sleeve. There was panic in her eyes underneath the tears. I didn’t know how to help either. I just shook my head sadly. Maybe we could get her back to town and some pony there could help.
The sound of hoof steps rumbled in the distance. I followed the sound with my head. There were a lot of them. I could see the billow of dust in the moonlight as they galloped down the dusty road. I touched Silent’s hoof and pointed.
Soon the ponies were close enough to identify. It was the unicorns of Bridlewood. I knew them all. It was our town. Were they here to chastise us or aid us? It was odd we were sitting next to another pony like this.
“What’s going on?” Alphabittle, the large grey unicorn that ran the Crystal Tearoom, asked.
“Why did you ring the Bridlewood bell?” asked Bindle Wood, the school teacher.
“I … well you see..” Any explanation I could give might make me sound crazy. Though in the world we live in we should be more open.
“They chased away the Chain Pony!” shouted Wispy. “They’re detectives. Supernatural detectives no less. Ya all don’t remember the danger that comes from having magic anymore. I do. But these fillies saw the danger and rushed to fight it.”
Was Old Stallion Wispy respected enough to be believed? I had no idea. But the unicorns looked at each other with concern and fear.
“Is this true?” Rune Dustbrush asked me. I thought the purple pony’s eyes were going to pop out of her head.
“We helped defeat the chain pony, but Lyrica did most of the fighting. Silent and I just rang the bell.” It was normal of me to downplay my involvement. Another pull on my leg reminded me of the true issue. “Lyrica is injured. Does any pony know healing spells?”
“Yeah, of course,” a nurse pushed her way in and scanned her body with a red magical glow. I shuddered thinking of the chain pony’s biting red eyes.
“She’s depleted of her magic,” the nurse said in a much calmer voice. “She’s fine, she just overexerted herself. It’s part of gaining our magic. I know we’re not used to it yet but this must have taken a lot.”
“She defended us against the demon,” I told them. Silent was sobbing over her friend. She hadn’t heard the diagnosis. I didn’t know how to tell her it was fine. I needed to learn sign language.
“I’ll restore what I can but she needs at least a week of rest from magic.” The nurse’s horn increased in strength and a bright red glow illuminated the street. Lyrica began to glow in the red field. Silent looked at her in panic. I could only run over and hold her to reassure her.
The glowing stopped and the light returned to Lyrica’s eyes. She coughed and blinked. Then her pink maned head lifted off the ground and stared at everypony there.
“Did we win?”
“Yes,” I answered. My answer was lost as Silent wrapped her hooves around Lyrica’s head. She was still crying. It was odd seeing such an enthusiastic pony cry. I made a mental note to write a poem about a crying balloon. Or perhaps a clown. I shuddered at the thought of a clown. Worse than cheerleaders.
“They seem to be telling the truth.” Alphabittle turned to the much smaller unicorns gathered. “I think we owe them a lot. We all have to be careful and more open to accepting new things and ideas. Princess Sunny Starscout taught me that.”
He turned to us. “You mares have saved our village. Thank you. I’ll find a space for your detective agency in my building, let’s hope you’re not too busy. The Bells of Bridlewood. I can see that.”
“Thank you?” I wasn’t sure I wanted to be a detective. I was a poet. Poetry and detective work didn’t go together that often. But Lyrica popped off the ground in excitement.
“The Lyrica’s Belles of Bridlewood Detective agency! ” The unicorn cried in triumph then nearly toppled over. Silent caught her quickly. The deaf pony started signaling immediately.
“Fine, I’ll drop the name,” sighed the weary warrior. “Alright. We thank you for your offer Alphabittle but Silent and I think it might be better to have the agency in Silent’s studio.”
“No problem.” The huge unicorn shrugged his mighty muscles and picked up the Bell of Bridlewood with his hooves. Then he placed it on his back and steadied it with his magic as he turned towards the town. The town ponies followed him.
“Silent and I will carry you back,” I told Lyrica who looked like she was about to protest, then relented as her legs shook.
The walk back was mostly silent. I tried not to think about the Chain Pony or any other demon that could be waiting to take its place. Magic was a part of us now. It wasn’t going anywhere. But that didn’t mean we were safe. In fact, it seemed to make us targets of worse things than earth ponies and pegasi. And on top of that, I was one of the first defenses this town had. It was a dark future ahead, but then they didn’t call me Gloomy for anything.
