Chapter 8

The sound of wind comes into hearing as it brushes past Valiari’s ears. His cheek has been lying atop a chilling floor of ice, and his body is then shot into an intense shivering. He lifts up his head to find that across from him is the only source of light in this unknown room: A few streaks of Moonlight that sneak through small cracks between the clouds outside. The light shines through a large window with frost settled along the edges and corners bouncing off of a white-tiled floor. He pushes himself up and leans back against a cold flat wall rubbing his eyes. Panicking he finds that he is trapped within a tight space between the wall and entangling icicles that seem to be branching out from the walls and floor to encage him. He tries to push and bash at the icicles with his hooves trying to find enough space to wind up for an attack, but the ice refuses to break. There is such a small amount of space he cannot even stand up to try and kick the ice. He becomes so desperate for a way out that he resorts to gnawing at the ice, but doesn’t even leave a scratch.

Thoughts spew out of his mind about the family and his friend. He delves into his memories to try and remember the last thing that happened. He sees him and Aireal talking with Candle Light and her Mother, and then a heavy blizzard ensued destroying the cabin. Everything went black after that. What could have happened to them? Where are they? He continues to ask himself. He takes a glance around at his surroundings outside the icy bars to maybe get an idea of where he is being held captive, but there is only darkness ahead except for the small amount of Moonlight. He can’t imagine what his friend might be going through, or Candle Light and her family for that matter. Stressful he tries once again to break the bars of ice, but with no success. His body is beginning to tire, but he can’t let exhaustion hold him back. They are in trouble, he knows it, and he needs to be there to help them. As he presses onto the ice pondering to himself he hears a slight sound off in the blackness. The sound of a small pony’s voice whimpering, crying, moaning as if injured erupts from behind the Moonlight and behind the shadows. Shaken by the disruption of constant wind echoing in this seemingly large room he listens carefully to the sound and tries to find out who it is that may need help.

“Hey! Who’s there?!” He asks, but the crying just continues. “Hey! Hello?!” Still no response.

Valiari disappointedly tosses his back against the wall and sighs a cloud of breath that lingers in the air.

“H-Hello?” Asks a weak mares voice. “M-Mister Valiari? Is that . . . is that you?”

Surprised to hear his name said he jolts back with his hooves against the bars of ice and his wide open eyes.

“Yes it’s me! Are . . . are you Candle Light’s Mother?”

“Yes! Oh what a relief it is to hear your voice. Where are we?”

“I’m not too sure, nowhere good I suspect. Say who is that crying?”

“It’s my daughter, sweetie? Sweetie can you hear me? Just relax okay, Mommy’s here . . . Mommy’s here.”

“Oh she’s here.” Valiari says with a sigh of relief. “How is she? Is she hurt?”

“I-I don’t know. She’s shivering like mad, and her body is freezing cold. Oh darling look at me, look at me. I’m here, it’s okay.”

‘Shivering like mad, body freezing cold’ Valiari quickly realizes the severity of the situation. He hates to admit it, but Candle Light is on her way to hypothermia. She’s young, and her body can’t handle the cold. If not treated immediately things might begin to take a toll for the worst. Her Mother continuously tries to get her daughter to calm down, but the crying and moaning continues. Valiari doesn’t want to frighten her Mother, but she must be aware of how imperative it is to keep her as warm as possible. Perhaps they aren’t as trapped as he is, at least he hopes not.

“Can you move around?” He asks.

“Why I . . . no. There’s something blocking the way. What is this? Is it . . . ice? Mister Valiari where are you? My daughter is freezing and I don’t know what to do!” She says exasperatingly.

“Look, look, look. Just remain calm. You and your daughter are going to be just fine, but you have to keep her as warm as you can.”

“I-Is she going to be okay?”

“Just do as I say, alright? And everything will be fine.”

“Oh Valiari, don’t you know it isn’t right to lie?” Asks a voice from the dark. “Why don’t you go ahead and tell them the truth?”

“Who’s that? Wh-Who’s there?!” The Mother asks.

“Me? Why I’m the one who brought you here! Don’t you just love what I’ve done with the place?”

“What do you mean? Where are we?” Valiari asks.

“You are in Canterlot, at least, what’s left of it. But if you ask me I think my renovations to the place make it much cozier.”

“Canterlot?” Valiari gasps.

“That’s right. If you really don’t like it here then maybe your beloved Princesses will come to your rescue.” A giggling is followed after her mocking comment.

“. . . No . . . What did you do to them?!” Valiari demands.

“Oh don’t worry about them, they are doing just fine.”

Valiari can hear sets of hoof steps drawing closer. Beneath the rays of Moonlight steps a tall white mare bearing a frosted golden necklace and crown. Her powerful appearance is ascended with the presence of a long horn, large feathery wings, and a pale rainbow mane that flows in the air. Beside her steps a smaller mare with similar attire; except her necklace and crown are black, and her mane is reminiscent of the night sky. Something Valiari hasn’t been able to see in quite some time due to the thick clouds that cover the skies. Valiari is shot with excitement at the sight of them, and jumps to calling out to them for their attention.

“Princess Celestia! Princess Luna!” He shouts.

However, the Princesses do not speak. Slowly they turn their heads towards him, and Valiari sits stunned to what he sees. Their eyes, they are pale and lifeless.

“Princess?”

“I wouldn’t waste your time with them; right now they are nothing more than hollow husks of who they used to be. They only hear my voice, and my commands. They are like little angels. You may leave now.” Says the voice, and the two Princesses walk back into the dark on her command.

“. . . I don’t understand. Why let them continue their duties of day and night? Sounds a bit pointless to me.”

“Why? Well their power surely will come in handy. Not only that, but I need ‘some’ way to get that feeble little creature to show up to my castle.”

“. . . What?”

“Yes! That’s right! I want to lure your little friend here, so that I can finish him off in the most satisfying way possible. He is an annoying little speck in my plans, and once he arrives he will most certainly regret it.”

“If you do anything to him I swear—”

“Oh you really are quite adorable! Thinking that any of your measly threats will scare me. What you fail to understand is that he is my toy, and I just might break him. But, I want him here, and I want you to watch him suffer.”

“No! Do what you want with me but leave him be!”

“Same goes for this little filly and her Mother. I have something special planned for them, especially that little one. Something . . . fun.”

“No! Please, will you just let this family go? They’ve done nothing to deserve this.”

“I won’t let you hurt my daughter! Never!” The Mother shouts.

“Now who said anything about pain? I just want you all to enjoy this wonderland I’ve created!”

“You are responsible for this-this chaos?!” Valiari shouts.

“Choas? Why, I find it as pure serenity. Winter is just so . . . beautiful. Don’t you think? The snow, the icicles that hang from rooftops, it’s all just so magnificent. Now, all of Equestria is wrapped in a blanket of white.”

“You will be stopped.” Says Valiari angrily.

“Oh? And how would that be? You are just a pathetic painter in ragged clothes! What power could you possibly have over me?”

“I wasn’t talking about me.”

“. . . Oh, you mean . . . ?” Suddenly the voice breaks out into an incessant laughter. “You-You really think that puny little pet of yours will—” The laughter bursts back out and then slowly settles back down. “You are too much Valiari! But you have no idea how much control I am gaining over your little pet at this very moment.”

“No, he’s stronger than you! He won’t let himself fall victim to your tricks!”

“I believe he already has. Every passing day it becomes easier and easier, and soon, his mind will become so weak to the point to where he will end up just like your Princess: empty. It’s only a matter of time.”

“. . . No, he can’t. He won’t.” Valiari whispers.

“Oh, he will. If by some chance he doesn’t, I have other ideas to bring him to ‘our’ side.”

“Our side? Just who are you anyway?!”

“I am the cold breeze of the winter season, and I will turn Equestria into a snowy wasteland along with everypony in it. There is nothing you can do to stop us. You are trapped Valiari, without any way to help your little friend. You . . .” The thick clouds beyond the window block out the space given to the Moon shrouding the entire room in darkness as Candle Light and her Mother continue to cry. Valiari watches the blackness with his body frozen stiff. Then just for a moment the light returns, and what is revealed sends Valiari into a deep fear he hasn’t felt in quite some time. “. . . belong to us.” Says two voices simultaneously.

For one second Valiari catches a glimpse of a mare standing directly in the Moonlight. He cannot believe his eyes, but they tell the truth. Her face, her mane, her eyes they all look so different then how he remembers. It can’t be; it couldn’t be. He thought that she was long lost, but now he knows. The mare disappears, and the Moonlight never returns. Only their giggling echoes around the room. Valiari hopes that Aireal is still out there alive and well. No, he knows he is. He just has to be. Valiari isn’t ready to lose all hope. Equestria still has a chance, but he cannot do it alone. If only he were still with him, to protect him. Valiari needs to come up with some kind of plan, but he needs time. There just has to be a way out of here. Wherever Aireal may be, he hopes that he doesn’t find himself in any trouble. He has to know, he just has to know.

I try once again to reach up to the wire that is entangling my legs, but I run out of energy and end up falling back down with an aching back. After all my shouting and calling for help I doubt that she will be coming back. I can hear the storm outside intensifying as the wood that constructs the bakery is starting to creak immensely. I can feel my head and arms swelling with the blood that has been rushing down to them. The wood continues to bend and moan, and the longer I hang the more I realize that there really isn’t any way out of this. No matter how much I struggle the knot of wire is too strong to be loosened. Giving up and letting my body dangle in the air I twist left and right. The ponies frozen in ice appear as though their all staring right at me, watching me. I feel they are still alive watching me from behind the ice, which unnerves me as I try to twist myself away from them. As my body swings around I see a wonderful sign of hope. Near the wall are a wooden table and a pink frosted cake on a white platter resting atop it. The table and cake are both frozen over with ice, but sticking out of the cake is a black handle of a kitchen knife and half the blade. Surprisingly the knife isn’t entirely covered in ice, only the base of the blade. If I could swing myself over to the knife and get it out of that cake I just might have a way to cut myself free. But from this distance I’m not sure if I’ll be able to reach it. No, I can’t think that way. If I say to myself I can’t do it then I will never do it. I just have to keep those thoughts out of my head.

With my eyes set on the knife I thrust myself back and forth reaching out for the handle. I push myself as hard as I possibly can, and I can see the handle getting closer and closer to my hand. I feel the handle touch my fingertips. I try to grab onto it but they slip away. This should do it, one more strong push and I should reach it. I hold my breath and launch myself forward. My fingers grip around the handle and I tighten my hold around it without any intention of letting go, but the knife is stuck. I try to jerk it lose but blade just won’t budge. Perhaps with two hands I’ll have enough strength to jar it loose. With my body at an angle I feel quite a bit of relief from being completely upside down, and because of my body’s position it proves a challenge to get my other hand gripped onto the handle of the knife. Finally I manage to get a grip with both hands, but blade still doesn’t budge. I hold on trying not to let go out of fear of possibly not being able to grab hold of it again. I tug and pull at the blade and I soon hear the sweet sounds of the ice cracking. I wiggle the blade out of the hardened cake and swing back with the knife in hand. I clutch it tighter than before as sure to not drop it, because if I do I won’t be able to pick it back up for it will be too far down to reach. Now, all I have to do is cut the wire.

I lift up my upper body struggling to stretch my arm all the way up to my ankles. I fix the blade between my leg and the wire and begin to saw at the wire. My back aches from holding itself up in this position for so long, but I can feel the blade is getting through the rubber rather quickly. Suddenly the wire snaps and my whole body slams onto the floor with a thud. Pushing myself up the blood can now flow freely to the bottom portion of my body. I drop the knife and hurry to the front door and quickly remember that the pony blocked the exit. Regardless I still try to push it open, but no amount of my strength can break through. There must be another way out there just has to be! In a panic I start checking all the windows for a possible way out, but they are all covered in a thick layer of ice. Maybe there’s a way out in another part of the bakery. I maneuver around the pony statues trying to keep my eyes away from them as I pass through the two double doors behind the counter.

I find myself in a kitchen with several cupboards that have been frosted shut, as well as the couple of ovens against the walls. Above one of the long countertops hangs a rack where big ladles and spoons hang frozen in place. They appear to have been in the middle of shaking violently before freezing. There is yet another window, but it too is blocked by the ice. Just as I feel myself running out of options I feel a chilly breeze against my back. Turning around reveals to me a fireplace with snow flowing out from its chimney. Then is strikes me: if there is snow coming in and down then there most certainly is a way up and out. I stick my head in the fireplace and gaze up as the snowflakes float down onto my face. I can see the storm blowing across the open exit out of the chimney. The shaft seems wide enough for me to fit my body in, so climbing out seems to be the only option I have. Not wanting to waste anymore time I crawl into the chimney careful of my head as to not hit the brick walls. I wiggle my arms inside and press them against the sides of the chimney while trying to get a good grip of my shoes against the bricks. I push my back against the wall and use my legs to push me up. I can already feel gravity trying its hardest to pull me back down as my arms tremble. Inch by inch I hoist myself up even higher through the shaft. The air smells like smoke and ash, and the higher I go the more soot that collects along my hands and face. I can feel the air getting even colder, despite this I am anxious to escape and hopefully catch up to that pony. She has my bag of things I’ve collected, and I need to get it back.

‘Just a little bit higher’ I keep telling myself as the chimney feels much higher than I had first thought. I can barely see the bottom as it is now too dark to see that far below, but looking down I feel my back starting to lose grip on the wall behind me. I can feel myself beginning to slide down and my arms are growing weak. I can’t; I can’t fall. My heart rate is building and my whole body is quivering in fear of falling all the way back down. Thankfully I manage to gain my grip and continue my way up with a breath of relief. My head is met with the glorious outside air, and my hands meet with the burning snow collected around the chimney’s edges. I lift and pull myself up and out careful where I lay my feet, but with all the snow blowing in my face I hadn’t realized how steep the rooftop actually is. Thus I slip and tumble off of the roof and splash into the freezing snow. It quickly finds its way into every open crevasse about my clothing: In the jacket, in the sleeves and behind the collar.

I push through the winds to reorient myself as to which side of the bakery was the front. I find the messy tracks in the snow that lead to the front door that is blocked with the board of wood, and from that stretches a new set of tracks. They lead deeper into the storm where nothing is visible, but I press forward. My face is numbing as I try to hide it from the intense winds, and my ears have lost all feeling. Step by step I try to stay within the pony’s tracks to keep more snow from getting in my shoes. Without the glowing stone to keep me warm I realize the severity of how cold it feels without it. The wind breathes through my clothing as if it were nothing. My body doesn’t want to keep moving, but I persist in the hopes that I’ll come across something soon. Ahead is nothing but emptiness and more of it along with the snow still pouring out from the sky. After nothing but seemingly endless walking it becomes so cold and unbearable to the point to where my legs give up and cause me to crumble down to my knees. I do not know how long or haw far I’ve been walking, but with a glance behind I suppose it’s too late to try and turn back for shelter. I can feel the cold reaching to the very core of my heart; I don’t think I can stand much more of this.

Then, a difference in the view of vast emptiness shines. Ahead the tacks lead to a small pulsing orange light that rips though the dark. I can almost feel its warmth from here, and with my eyes set on this light I rise and strife through the snow as it grows brighter. The emptiness of the land is finally filled with few scattered trees that thicken the further I walk. The orange light comes to be a small flame built atop loose tree branches. It sits near a little cluster of trees and intertwining branches that form a kind of rounded wall around it. Between the wall of branches and the fire lays the purple pony. She has dug a small ditch in the snow and is lying upon the bare ground sleeping restlessly. At the sight of her I stop to be sure that she is sleeping. Her body is struggling to sleep quivering and cringing as she tries to use her tail to blanket herself. I ease closer to the fire and am relieved by its warmth. If only I could sit here for the rest of the night with my hands outstretched to the fire as the flame’s heat warms my palms, but I need to hurry and collect what I need before she wakes up. Near her body lays my bag in the snow, and my eyes lock on to it. However, it is across from the pony. So I’ll have to reach over her and grab it without waking her. Already I can feel that she will wake and catch me. Who knows what she’ll do to me then? But I can’t just leave my stuff there. This might be my only chance to reclaim it. Holding my breath I crouch myself down and slowly step through the snow careful to cause not a single disruption that could wake her. Now near the pony and my heart beating faster I cautiously reach my arm over her body and try to grab hold of the bag’s fabric. Suddenly her body jolts frightening me as I pull my arm back. Afraid that I’ve awoken her but with nowhere to run I let myself sit as I shut my eyes bracing myself for punishment.

After a while of silence I peak through my straining eye lids to see that the pony is still lying asleep. My heart begins to settle as I quietly take a breath of cold air. Reluctantly I try once more to reach over her, and as soon as my hand grips the cloth I hold still for a moment afraid to lift the bag up. Ever so carefully I bring the bag out of the snow and over the pony. The rope almost brushes across her back, but I lift it higher before it can make contact. With the bag now back in my hands I move away from the pony, but still near the fire, and check inside to be sure that everything is still there. I loosen the rope and open the bag. Let’s see . . . the book, the flower, the stone (which still isn’t glowing), Trixie’s hat and the box of matches. Looking at the fire I realize that the pony must’ve used one of the matches to build it. I slide open the small cardboard box and find that only four matches remain. Well, four matches should do me good. I’m not too sure how far or where the castle is from here with the dark clouds stained onto the sky and thick clouds of snow, but I think with four matches I should be able to make some good distance. I begin to wonder if this stone will ever glow again. In case it does I’ll hold onto it anyway, it was a gift from Trixie after all and I can never imagine myself throwing such a thing away. Just as I am about to shut the box of matches and lay it back in my bag I look over at the purple pony. Still she’s shivering trying to cover herself with her hooves and then her tail. It occurs to me that if I do take all this back then how will she survive? These matches were her only way to make heat, and to take them away feels . . . wrong. I can’t just leave her with nothing. I don’t want to imagine her freezing to death out here. If I took them all knowing that she will eventually . . . die . . . I don’t think I would be able to live with myself.

I remove just one match from the box and drop it in my bag. With the box and the remaining three matches I shut it and lay it near the pony. I could have spilt it half and half, but I feel that she needs them. I tighten the rope and hoist the bag over my shoulder. After one last look at the pony I leave the comfortable warmth of the fire and press on into the thickening woods. Thankfully for all these trees and branches they block out some of the wind making it easier for me to walk. I hope I’m headed in the right direction. If the tree house was in the direction of the castle, and the bakery was further past that then . . . yes I should be going the right way. At least, I hope I am. I actually think I can feel the storm beginning to ease up a little. Maybe now I can finally find a moment of rest from the extreme cold.

“Hey! Stop!” Shouts a startlingly familiar voice behind me.

I turn around and see the purple pony charging straight for me, and her face is full of anger as she maneuvers around the trees to get to me. Realizing the danger I bolt further into the woods. She continues to shout at me but I refuse to even glance back at her. The adrenaline has just broken into me as soon as I saw her, and now my legs refuse to take a second for a break. I shove and bend the tree branches ahead as the pony’s trotting keeps drawing closer. Suddenly my right shoe slips up on the ground. I fall on my back and hurriedly try to get back to my feet. I find that I’m standing over a frozen pond of some sort. I feel I should be careful while crossing, but with the pony not too far behind and her shouting continuing I ignore all precautions and run across the pond as my shoes glide across the ice nearly slipping again. I cross safely and crawl up a little hill back into the woods. Hopefully that slowed her down a bit, but from what I can hear all noise is completely absent. No snapping of tree branches and no trotting of her hooves. Perhaps I’ve finally lost her, but still I sprint through the woods just to get as far away as possible. It almost feels too convenient how I lost her so easily. She was catching up so quickly, and for her to just give up doesn’t feel right. Nevertheless I continue my run through the forest. Coming to a nice open space between a thick tree and one not so much I decide to go ahead and pass through them. But I am stopped by the sudden whipping of a tree branch in my face and another into my lower chest. I fall back into the snow unable to breathe and in too much pain to move. I can barely keep my eyes open as my head and body now aches. I can feel something grab my collar and then my arms. Scarcely catching small pockets of air in my lungs something drags me across the snowy ground, and my body is too weak to retaliate as it pulls me back the way I came. Back to the purple pony’s campsite.