The Owl

Chapter one: Nocturnal, Dragon awake

By Red Ignis

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The night sky was so dark – the midnight sky covered Ponyville, no star or moon in the night’s sky.  The cold winds swept around Ponyville too, the wild, anxious winds boomed around the market streets like a tank driving over a land mine. The markets streets were dim and faint, cold shadows threatened the night lights warmth – what little light was shown gave off little to no heat, little flames danced cautiously.

Just past the market street and straight up past Sugarcube Corner, the light grew stronger and thicker as it neared the villages’ library.  Once in time a tree stood proud and regal – but now it had been turned into a hollow shell of its once majestic self. Fallen branches’ layered the ground in charred remains, scattered ashes and dead oak plague the ground.  

A group of seven ponies look on at the once great tree. Sorrow in their hearts and grim expressions scarred their faces. The lanterns they carry give a warm glow to the area – but died away as the group walked off in the distance past the market and out of the village.  

Far away from Ponyville and just before the Everfree forest, rested the Ponyville graveyard. The entrance gates were rusted and old but by some divine miracle the gates still hang to the hinges for what little life it has. The gate was old and failing apart but   the entrance was new, unlike most of the marble tombstones that were decaying away. Rows of gravestones filled in every space the eye could see – but in the night sky there wasn’t much light apart from the light of the lanterns.

The light casted off from the ponies as they trotted, side by side, from the gates to their end destination – the grave was in sight. No sound crept around the gravesite but instead it chooses to waltz, the sounds of cold winds died out but the creatures of the Everfree forest were alive at this time of night. The waltz ended when a timber wolf howl was heard as Luna raised her moon.

All seven ponies moved swiftly, silently and slowly over the muddy grounds that made up the field.  They arrive at the centre of the whole graveyard – a small grave sat in plain view,   there was freshly planted grass to cover the burial site. The grave itself was a black marble shinning, reflecting, shadows over several graves.

The two royal pony sisters were imprinted directly to the grave – the eyes of the sisters were not made of marble but instead they are glowing emeralds. While the lantern light shines into the eyes it turned the shimmering gem stones into a beacon of the night. They are suns in their own right.

One by one the seven of them looked on; their disheartened face just locked on the grave. In this hour of discomfort they all lined up side by side. Baring gifts of crimson roses.

Out of all seven ponies that were standing there, it was one Pegasus that moved beyond the other six – she had a meek complexion, a long pink mane and fur as yellow as a duckling. She muttered even quitter than the wind.

She then said “you… were… wrong about not… the… the” she just stuttered on tears and her head resting on the gravestone. She lurched down and dropped a rose in front of the stone – as the rose hits the ground its echo can be heard through the whole field. Getting back fully up, she turns around and walked past the other ponies that she arrived with. Standing still, her throat was now chocking on tears as her fur starts to change colour from light yellow to grey yellow but that’s because she came without a lantern and hiding in the shadows of the other ponies.

From the shadows two small unicorn colts made their way followed without their lanterns. His light brown mane that was normally spiked up with gel just hung low and covered half his pale cyan face – his one eye shown was brimming with tears. He was next to a slightly taller colt, said colts neck bent downwards and his aquamarine mane just dropped in a free fall nature. His golden coat shined with shades of green from the emeralds – The green shadow casted down on his face, a face so ripe with sadness it looked like his depression was in full bloom.

They slowly and jaggedly moved towards the grave, and the both of them lowered a single rose and now were building a small pile of crimson. Finishing one last silent prey they turned around slowly and pathetically walked towards the yellow mare – but stopping once to picking up their lanterns.

After that the last four mares took a step forward, in a single line. Two earth ponies, and a single unicorn plus Pegasus.

The first earth pony has orange fur and a yellow mane that had been messed up by the wind. Her rose was being gripped in her mouth and some dry bitter blood taste stained her mouth, the rose’s thorn has cut the inside of her mouth.

The second earth pony was a grey pink pony with her straighten dark pink mane. She has the rose in bedded in her mane – her sent was that of baked goods and the sweetness of the rose mixed together. She trotted along, just a bit slower than all the other ponies but was determined to catch then up.  

A unicorn slowly walked along towards the end point of their journey. Her eye shadow was black and a stark contrast with her shiny silver coat. Most of her indigo mane was hidden by a white ushanka with her cutie mark imprinted into the centre of her hat. Streams of tears could be seen running down her face, making waterfalls as they poured down from her face.

Lastly was the cyan Pegasus, she was hovering in mid-air. She wasn’t showing any signs of emotions. She was hiding her face behind her jet black sun glasses that were even more hidden by her veil – Her true emotions hidden behind all her accessories, a train wreck, her real face would be looking like if shown. She flied slowly forward.

“...” the Pegasus just looked on; unlike all others she kept her mind in a state where she could keep control. So she just looked forward no smile, no frown, no tears just a faceless expression.

“Why? You of all had to... leave us behind” the pink mare spoke in a distant voice, unsure of herself and the grave in front of her. Was it real, she felt its touch and knew it was real or at least she dreamed it was just a dream?

“s...s...”said the unicorn, then she followed it up with “Snips, Snails do either of you have anything to say, anything, anything to confess, any guilt, any words of pudding or flea markets or ranting about Trixie” her voice breaking with every word she spoke, finalizing she went on snapping at the colts “why don’t you say anything to him, why not, spill why you won’t say a word aloud or do you not...”

“Whoa there, Rarity” a thick southern accent, bit at rarity’s ears like a crow to a fresh corpse on the roadside. “Y’all might be mighty upset and all but don’t, listen well now, don’t take it out on the Snips and Snails.” Pointing a hoof towards the colts. “Can’t you see the pain in their eyes?” she said in calm and strict tone, both colts looked Rarity in the eyes. Snails moved his mane from his eyes. At which doing this she saw the blood red, shoot eyes, he hid. An ocean of pain, that his eyes laid wake to an endless torment. Happiness never catching up to the plumes left behind - how his look matched the macabre eyes of the dead. Vast and endless his eyes screamed for some sort of hope. Or lord discord’s vile reach to take his pure colt soul, and turn its form to a wolfen state, making a vampiric hung no lust...

The gateway to the void closed, locked and sealed way as Snails hid his gaze under his mane. Not wishing to show anypony or thing, his newly found broken prospective on life via his eyes.

“Oh my... Celestia, Snails I...I...I...I’m sorry for saying any of that. Please forgive me” she said dropping down to his level, looking though his mane as if it were his personal veil. Eyes watering up and her makeup tarnished; as raven black eye line gushed and oozed its way down her face. Her silver coat now blackened under heavy streams of jet black water that was downing its colour darker shades. Its lasting effect on her coat now makes her face look like it had war paint, clearly the live streams rushed down her pulchritudinous face now guises and is drowned in grimace.

Snails gave her a strained, laborious nodded. Followed by a quick glance to the marble, only to turn back to her and just let a single tear drag down his face; clinging for life as it staggered, in an offbeat flow. Much different from the living cataract’s that encompassing the group.

Heads turned meekly and bereft to face the pathway that brought them to this courtroom of the lifeless. One last swan song bow to the tomb and on the path they tread.

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“The great and powerful Trixie wishes that we finish the job we start one week ago. One died not the one I wanted no I needed to die survived by the effort of her repulsive luck and the slave that scarified his will again to her service. We need to eradicate her broken shell now, while her loss of slave is still keeping her in coma” Trixie ended her speech by glow that came from her horn, shined rays of hate and cold loathing around this enclosed throne room.

The room Trixie was in was a grand throne room. The northern wall facing her had two statues of ponies that are made of mirrors and both statues faced the throne – looking like they were bowing at the base of the throne as if they were kissing the thrones stairway. Also at the base of the stairway sits a glass table, gleaming and sparking like a living diamond that was caught in the sun light. The scent of the room was a mix of dead roses and strong bleach filled the room with a prissy, prim blanket that covered the room. Five silver chairs were around the semi-circular table, each silver chair had sigils branded in to the leather. All the sigils were in the shape of a triangle, the colour of all the triangles were multi-coloured rainbows – all the triangles had an upside down heart, each heart had a separate colour.

“Tell me Trixie” came from across the room, the voice was gruff and feminine “how is finishing off the purple pest going to help me clubber the pink dweeb and the bigger dweeb rainbow crash” at which point she got a talon and raised it to her neck and dragged it across her neck making a cut-throat sign, her talons were razor sharp and were polished with mud.

“I get what you’re saying Gilda but we have started with this one. We most end her life, do any other of you villains want to change are approaches. Because I the great and powerful Trixie want that anyone wants to change it, sate it now, well do we have any takers? Anyone? Or does Trixie have to go over the facts again”. She ended by closing both her eyes and sticking her nose into the air and then opening then to look down on the other creatures around her. A collective grunt was heard as Trixie shoved her nose in the air.

“Fine” Gilda said not wanting to hear Trixie waste her time. Not that she would leave or pass up a chance to get back the dweebs of Ponyville and she couldn’t back out now, not after what they did!

“Agreed” came from two stallions at the same time; both had the same colours and hats. Sitting across from each other, both just as pale olive colour, with a dark red mane with white streaks in them... oh and one has a moustache.

“The party of dog’s wishes to continue the plan the way we spent months planning, in order to end the feeble lives of the ponies” said a grey dog with a scowl in his tone of voice. He is wearing a red vest with gems in his pockets. Mountain dirt spins around him like a sicking hurricane of filth, his scent clashes with the clean smell of the room.

“You’re saying that because we ended the life of that mislabel slave boy” the twins echoed in a chaotic harmony, wide grins and sharp eyes, as if daggers pointed towards the dog.

“So, what of it!” the Dogs k-9’s showing he was vehemence with violence and venom. His lime green eyes cut down wards like a red hot blade cutting steel, showing no mercy and a boiling stainless expression.

“Drop it!” a Voice shouts from atop of the throne. A voice deep in class and sophistication, a right tone of pitch some were in the baritone range of tone. “We will continue with our most glorious plan as we decided as a council”.

As the voice echoed down each member’s ear they quickly and sharply shoot the necks around to face the throne.  The sound of joints cracking filled up the silent room – their eyes darted over to the throne and looked straight to the top of it. They couldn’t see who was shouted to them, a red see-through Curtin enclosed the sitting part of the throne. All eyes were placed upon the red shadow of a pony started to move towards the Curtin.

“Now stop wasting my time with your petty arguing and let us start this council meeting off” the male voice said as he stopped just before he crossed the Curtin’s barrier.  Bitterly he when on “By stating out code names when talking about ourselves” turns his shadowy head towards Trixie, who is still has her nose held high. “And stick to the plan we carefully laid out” he ended by raising his hoof to where his body would be and put it in what seems to be a pocket.

One by one they all stood up. As they slowly made their way to their feet and hooves they place over their face with masks. Not just any masks though, they put on masquerade masks. Each mask was a perfect fit for each member. As they stood there in a semi-circle, each looked back and forth before two of them said...

“Sloth” said one of the twins. He was wearing a blue pin stripe mask that covered his face from the nose upwards. The mask was made of a regal blue felt that bend around his face and had ultramarine blue was the second colour going down his mask. The eye shapes in his mask were normal eye cut outs, with glass filling in the holes.

“Avarice” said his twin brother. His mask was also mask pin striped, but instead of blue his mask had the colours of carrot orange and a darker orange. Everything else was the same apart from the fact he has a moustache unlike his brother. And the stripes he had when around the mask in a spiral instead of going straight downwards.

“Gluttony” the k-9 called out sinisterly. The mask this dog place upon him was a simple white fabric, that had been crystallised with pink gems cover half of his mask. The right side of the mask was the pure white side and the left side was the heaver pink side. The eye holes in the mask were triangles and the tinned glass that filled them was scarlet.

“Wrath” Gilda bellowed as loud as her griffin lungs would let her, almost as she was trying to scream. Her mask was an inflamed crimson and it was not made of fabric but instead was made of latex. The colour red blended darker as it got closer to the edges of her mask, at the two top edges of her mask the latex bent upwards making the points look like devil horns.

She was also the only one among them that was openly showing a weapon. Her weapon of choice is a bull whip. “I might not like wearing this mask but…” Gilda’s voice droned off as her eyes made contact with her whip. “I do like using this!” she grinned as she cracked her whip, smashing a glass vase into chunks as it littered white titled floor. She then put her whip back into her hiding spot.

“The Green and Hateful Envy” Trixie called out in her showboating way. The mask she wore covers her eye line. It is deep green and had a sheik gold lining that was like a viper or a serpent that was wrapping around her mask. The mask had an extra gold lining in the centre of the mask was an pentagram – the masks eye holes were shaped like a snakes eyes but instead of rough skin feel to the mask, it was a smooth and oily latex.

“I the holder of envy don’t know why the girls have to wear masks of leather and latex instead of fabric” she said glaring into the thin red shield and an icy glare she shoot towards it. “But…” a blush came across Trixie’s face, turning her azure coat from the blue it was to a deep shade of red. “I Envy like the feeling of this mask. And also wants to be on the record that…” she said waiting for her dramatic pause to work “… I want to wear my cape and hat when wearing this” she said once more sticking her nose to the air.

“Vanity Lust” the voice echoed from atop the throne. No one saw his face, nor his mask.

“Vanity come out of the Curtin we all know who you truly are so why hide?” spoke Envy in a board voice while looking at her hoof, but never looking to the throne.

“Because” he sang out, while moving back to his seat “I don’t wish for you all to cast your filthy eyes upon me, you’re not worth looking at my beautiful image without my permission” he ended, knowing full right that his song had touched a nerve as all of them casted an icy glace towards him “plus…” the shadow said sitting down finally. “I’ve already got my lover. Every time I look in to a mirrors reflection I see him, he calls me to look into his hypnotic eyes that fill me with so much joy!” he spoke, getting slowly but surely more passionate with each new word as he chatted to himself. No one else was listening to him. Everyone else just ignored him by putting their face into the table and blocking their ears with anything and everything.

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Back in the graveyard the stench was still the same as it was only hours ago and as it will be eternal. The dead tree’s waved to Luna’s moon as it passed over the sleeping dead and into the setting distance. The tree’s scratched and cut the thick night air, the night’s air was so cold and frozen. From the setting moon a small light lit the graves up – they field was looking like some noir film.

On one dead tree’s arm: sat a small bird, grim in night’s light and its cold winds. There it sat peering down on to the dead, was this the messenger of death? Was he the night’s personal lover or an old friend looking for his brother in arms?

Harking, this small bird took flight. Wings spread outwards, plumes the colour of dark brown cut the nights thick, frozen air like a razor cutting skin. The light brown body moved with slow speeds like a hunter finding its prey. The bird was flying circles around the dead - Not a vulture far too small to be that creature, nor a crow the colour of the birds doesn’t fit and is far too long and bulky to be a raven. What oh what is the bird, and what could it be doing?

An owl, an owl this bird is. Silent, striking and ghoulishly it sliced through the air to the crypts of forlorn souls. No words spoken, no hoots or who’s spoken in a reparative response the bird gave to a call. Its night trained eyes looked around this scared ground. Once more did the owl spin its head round the sky looking for the spot to rest and mourn, mourn and hex, hex and awake, awake and alive this lost spirit to the realm of the living.

There the owl marked the green glow, like giant dragon eyes they were the green beacon of the night. He found the grave he was hunting. A quick victory lap around the sky and he descends for the landing.

Landing on cold marble, the bird’s talons touched it and started scratching, scratching and more scratching came as he chipped the gravestone. Hooting whose and other sounds in the night’s domain, casting and chanting calls of arcane lore’s long past the powers of any creature. Alicorn goddess or Draconequus devil be damned.

In the dark of this night something happen. The bird hooted one more time and stopped, and then it looked like the owl was  smiling

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“Spike... awake... now” a voice in the abstract, made spike hark to it.

He tried to open his eyes, but the no light came. The motion of his eye opening was their but on the other side of this coin was darkness. Midnight is the hour, colour and sound, he lifted his hand’s up and felt velvet; velvet kissed his hands it kissed his whole body, velvet and some sort of wood.

“Awake.........Young dragon......” it came again, where is this voice calling from.

He punched the velvet, punched, punched, punched... then light priced the damned darkness. Spike could feel it burn him not much but enough to see is escape route.

The light came in more as he fought his way out. Quick as lighting the light tried to fill the wooden box that enclosed him. He punched more and more. More and more light came in, smothering his face white light blinded him. He could feel the light as he pulled himself out, he grabbed it like the light had weight, pulling himself upwards; he wanted freedom from this light that was drowning him. Burning his scales, he felt like his scales were being charred black.

“Just a little further......Come now...Nocturnal dragon” it echoed aloud to Spike.

He swore he was facing up as he saw the white light die out by a wall of darkness - thick nightshade covered his vision as he clawed ever closer. A perfect dived by white vs. black, light vs. dark and the known vs. unknown. Spike was scared as he heard other voices latch on to him by his legs; they were trying to pull him under, dragging him into the eternal nothingness of bright white light.

“Slave...worthless slave”, “you ruined my gem farm... but at least I’m alive little dragon”, “why brother I do say...it looks like he’s laying his life down for his mistress”, “Why yes he is, isn’t it sad that even if he saves her.......she......will......DIE!”, “He’s the replacement for rainbow crash, what a perfect fit (crack)” “You will be her slave no more little waste of scales, death is your new master now. Dragged down to discords palace, down in your heroism and dreams, as he drowns you in sin” voices loud as gunshots to the temple, each one a silver bullet, causing a single wound, that scar’s him slowly like a rusty blade would do to the throat. He felt blood gushing out of his skull and then filling his ears with crimson lies.

He was losing energy, power, and the will to go on. Then like a beacon of hope Spike had heard a voice echo past all of the hate and lies. He knew this voice well. Oh the voice was in shambles, broken but still full of hope.

“Spike, I need you to save me one more time!?” Twilight, cried out for spike.

This was the voice he followed. It lead him to the unknown, he dint care were it took him he wanted to save Twilight, rescue her, make her fell alive. Just like how she had brought spike into this crazy world, from the egg she was given to hatch at her introduction in Canterlot all those years ago.

His wounds fixed themselves up and with ever handful of light he grabbed to drag his carcass through this thick shite fog of emptiness. He saw his way out, his hand entered the black. He felt cold air hit his hand like he was rebirthed. He dint want to stop he felt its rush like a drug trip to his brain. He got another hand though and once again the same pleasure hit him. At this point he knew what he had to do, pull himself out of this limbo and back into the land of the living. But he only knew this as a means of survival.

This was it now or nether, do or die. Did it he pulled himself free. Or stay trapped the abstract.

“Good job, Spike” Twilights voice called to Spike, her voice echoing around his skull and making it, its new home. Twilight’s voice also came in handy as Spike needed one last push in order to escape and get beyond this mess of reality.

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Spike pulled himself out of the void. The once feeling of pleasure left him, and pain indulged his body, his scales, and his mind. The sound of tree branches and howling timber wolves made Spike shiver. The smell of mud, dirt and dried blood escaped the hole where Spike had once been. But now as he looks at his body, he can now see that...

“Oh.....Luna.....what happened to me”? Spike screamed aloud!

End of chapter one