Day 11, 07:35

“How does it feel?” Maud asked tentatively, sitting on the end of Pinkie’s bed.

Pinkie reached up and lightly touched her muzzle, wincing slightly.

“Sensitive, but I’ll be okay,” she assured her.

Maud simply nodded and the pair continued the silence that had they had been sitting in up until that point. Pinkie sighed, snuggling deeper under her quilt.

“Just say it,” she muttered, earning a look from Maud. “You’ve been acting weird since we got here.”

“Well I think under the circumstances that’s to be expected,” Maud pointed out.

“You know what I mean,” Pinkie reprimanded. “You’ve been acting weird to me.”

Maud didn’t answer, causing Pinkie to sigh again.

“I haven’t forgotten you asking me if I really wanted to leave this place,” Pinkie pointed out, “or when you said you didn’t feel like you had really helped me.”

Maud hesitated before answering.

“I never regretted it...” she said at last, although she still sounded hesitant when she continued. “Dropping out of my degree, that is. Even when you begged me to go back, I never felt bad leaving it all behind, because… you were all that really mattered to me. The things you had suffered through… nothing would come between me and helping you move past them.”

Pinkie listened quietly.

“I’ll admit, I sometimes felt like we weren’t making any progress,” Maud continued. “I’d feel hopeless at times. When you actually agreed to go to the gala, I was convinced I was hearing things. I was truly hopeful for the first time in a long time that you were going to get better, that I wouldn’t have to be afraid for you anymore.

“But then this happened,” Maud said, her voice lowering. “And suddenly, you weren’t the mare I’d been looking after for seven months, but you weren’t the filly I remembered either. You weren’t scared and traumatised, you weren’t happy and exuberant, you became… methodical, logical, even cold at times. You became a leader, a detective just as it reads on your computer.”

Pinkie stared in confusion at her sister.

“After all we tried to do,” Maud muttered. “After how much I tried to help you, you got thrown back into the game that hurt you, and wore it like a glove. You might think I’m being crazy Pinkie, but I’ve seen the way you act when you order the others around, when you search for clues and when you piece cases together, you love it, you thrive on it.”

“Are you saying I wanted my friends to die?!” Pinkie demanded, suddenly furious at what her sister was suggesting.

“No, of course not,” Maud defended. “You would never want another pony to die, but you do want to play this game. You’re dependant on it, and I’m terrified that if we do escape from here alive, you’ll just regress all over again, or worse, you’ll seek this life out.”

“So what are you saying? That if I want to heal I have to stop playing the Mastermind’s game?” Pinkie asked, pulling herself out of bed and storming over to the window, not looking at her sister. “I promised everypony that I would get them out of here. I’ve already let down seven of them; I am not going to fail the rest!”

Maud let out a sigh, stood up and walked over to the door; she opened it and stopping briefly.

“You say you want to save the rest,” she said looking over her shoulder, “but don’t forget that includes you, so you do have to save yourself.”

With that Maud left, leaving Pinkie alone in her room, gripping tightly onto the window sill in front of her. With a cry of frustration she pushed away from the window, storming over to her desk where she slammed down into the armchair. Her saddlebags were sitting on the desk in front of her and she reached for them now, removing the knife and the gun from within.

The dagger was still coated in dry blood which was starting to flake off. Setting it to the side, Pinkie picked up the revolver. Opening up the bullet cylinder she checking the four shells still inside before closing it up and setting it down next to the knife. Nopony had thought to ask her about the gun after the trial yesterday, but then they had all been a bit distracted with the sudden twist things had taken.

Fluttershy had tended to Pinkie, never uttering a word as she did so. Rarity was distressed, running back and forth, checking on Pinkie and joining the search for Rainbow who had flown off towards the town. She had eventually returned shortly before ten the night before, immediately locking herself in her room without a single word. Maud had stayed with Pinkie all evening, too concerned with her wellbeing to ask any questions about the firearm.

In Pinkie’s absence Octavia had taken over attempting to manage everypony, tasking Fleetfoot with searching for Rainbow Dash, while regularly having to stop Shining Armour from breaking into the wine in the cellar herself.

Pinkie looked down at her crumpled dress lying strewn across the floor. She noticed several patches of blood on it despite the colour of the material. Perhaps she would ask Rarity to clean it up for her later; she might like that, an escape from everything else.

Reaching back into her saddlebags, Pinkie removed one final object, the picture frame showing Twilight and her family. As well as not questioning the presence of the gun, they had also been too distracted to stop and question what Chrysalis had meant when she talked about Pinkie wanting to hide the identity of the first Mastermind, but Pinkie knew she would have to come clean today, she had promised Soarin after all.

Day 11, 08:21

Octavia stood perfectly straight, as if standing to attention for Pinkie as she walked down the entrance hall staircase. Any signs of her infection had cleared up entirely, leaving her looking just like her proud, noble self once more. Shining Armour by comparison stood with his shoulders slumped, his whole body sagging, any semblance of royalty long gone. Rarity looked like a mare who hadn’t slept in weeks, her mane unkempt, her eyes bloodshot with dark rings around them. Fluttershy looked perfectly fine physically, but Pinkie could see the misery in her eyes.

Maud looked exactly as Pinkie had always remembered her, her face trained to betray no emotion. Lastly Fleetfoot stood looking dull, leaning heavily on one side, her signature sunglasses perched on her forehead revealing her tired eyes.

Pinkie panned across them as she stepped off the staircase, immediately registering their absent member.

“Has anyone been to see her?” Pinkie asked solemnly.

Fluttershy and Fleetfoot glanced at one another.

“Still locked in her room,” Fleetfoot reported in a neutral voice.

“We… can hear her breathing,” Fluttershy added. “So, um, she hasn’t done anything drastic… yet.”

“Should we… force her out?” Shining Armour asked in an unsure voice.

“We can’t do that,” Rarity exclaimed, horrified at the suggestion.

“I don’t know,” Pinkie stated. “I know this is hard for her, but it might be dangerous to leave her on her own.”

“Where are those tools you used to open my door?” Octavia asked. “Should we decide to go in ourselves.”

Pinkie thought about it, she couldn’t quite remember what became of them. Looking around she saw the others were equally as unaware of their location.

“I could always break the window,” Fleetfoot proposed. “The Mastermind didn’t say anything about forcing through windows, only doors.”

“I guess,” Pinkie replied, unsure. “We’ll give her a few hours; see if we can at least get her to talk to us before we go barging in.”

The others seemed to accept this, so Pinkie began to walk away towards the side door that would lead to the study, stopping when Fleetfoot called out.

“Where do you think you’re going?” she asked rhetorically. “We need to talk about yesterday.”

“What specifically?” Pinkie asked turning around, a pathetic delaying tactic.

“Well for starters where did you get that gun you fired at the bug yesterday?” Fleetfoot demanded.

“I found it in the vault, up in the throne room,” Pinkie explained.

“But that place is sealed up tight,” Maud reminded her. “How did you open it?”

“I’m… not sure,” Pinkie lied. “I was just thinking allowed and it opened up randomly.”

“Well why did you keep it a secret?” Fleetfoot asked. “I think we’d all feel safer knowing where that kind of weapon is.”

“It’s… personal,” Pinkie answered lamely. “It was the same gun that was used to kill my friend in the last game.”

“Where is it now?” Octavia asked calmly.

Pinkie patted her saddlebags.

“Well we aren’t going to confiscate it,” Octavia continued. “I think we can all agree it’s safest in your hooves, and without a changeling running around, I doubt anyone will steal it from you.”

“Is that all or can we get to work?” Pinkie asked, ready to turn away again.

“No,” a voice stated firmly.

All heads turned to the staircase Pinkie had just descended. There, standing at the top was Rainbow Dash, her eyes staring straight at Pinkie.

“That’s not all,” she repeated. “What did she mean? When she said you didn’t want us to find out who the first Mastermind was.”

Pinkie sighed internally, attempting to maintain composure on the outside. She resisted for a long time, ran from Ponyville and her friends all to avoid revealing the truth, but now she was backed up into a corner, nowhere left to run.

“It was Celestia’s idea,” she began after a long period of silence. “She made all the survivors swear to it. I don’t know if I would have been honest otherwise. It was difficult, like a cross I was forced to bear on my own. You all kept asking me to open up, wanting to help me, but I didn’t want you to know… I wanted you all to remember her as she was, not what she became.”

“Remember who as they were?” Rarity asked, edging forward slightly.

“I lied,” Pinkie said, turning to face her remaining friends directly. “We all did. Twilight Sparkle was never murdered by Doughnut Joe.”

“Wait, what?” Rarity asked, looking confused, not seeming to make the connection.

Fluttershy and Rainbow both watched her warily; almost afraid of what was coming. Shining was staring at her curiously. Fleetfoot stared bewildered at her, while Maud and Octavia showed no signs of emotion.

“She faked her own death, fooled us all,” Pinkie continued.

“But… you don’t mean…” Rarity began, her eyes widening.

“Twilight was the Mastermind,” Pinkie concluded with a heavy heart.

A stunned silence followed Pinkie’s revelation, everypony staring at her blankly.

“No…” Rarity whispered, sinking to the ground.

Fluttershy stood paralysed, Rainbow clenched her eyes shut, taking a deep breath. Fleetfoot stood and blinked, as if unsure she had really heard Pinkie or not. Shining Armour…

“NO!” he bellowed, charging forward.

Everyone swiftly forgot their shock momentarily as they cried out objections. Pinkie had no time to react, knocked off her hooves and slammed down to the floor where she was held by the pair of strong forehooves.

“You’re lying!” Shining Armour bellowed. “My sister did not kill those ponies!”

“I’m sorry Shining…” Pinkie gasped, hardly able to draw breath.

“Shut up!” he screamed, slamming her body down once more and knocking the wind from her. “It wasn’t her! It Wasn’t!”

Pinkie opened her mouth, but only a croak escaped. Shining Armour looked livid, his eyes wide and fierce, his lips peeled back revealing clenched teeth, saliva dripping down his chin. For a second, Pinkie was sure he was going to kill her, but then two blue blurs sped into the stallion’s side, knocking him several metres across the room.

Pinkie sucked in air, her vision spinning as she saw Rainbow Dash and Fleetfoot standing protectively over her, facing Shining Armour as he clambered to his hooves.

“That’s enough!” Fleetfoot shouted. “Now I never knew the princess like the rest of you did, I can’t begin to understand how you must be feeling. But don’t start turning on each other now, we’ve come too far!”

“I will not let her say those things about my little sister!” Shining snapped back, before his voice began to crack. “My… little… Twily…”

The transformation was as shocking as it was instantaneous. One second he was snarling and looking as if he were about to shred them all apart, the next he was curled up on the ground, wailing and bawling to himself.

Pinkie gratefully accepted Fluttershy's helping hoof getting back onto all fours. Once she was straightened up she eyed Shining Armour with concern.

“Leave him with us,” Octavia whispered to Pinkie, gesturing to herself, Fleetfoot and Maud. “We’ll look after him; you should probably talk to your friends.”

Pinkie nodded, looking over to the other three, who all seemed to understand what she wanted and obediently followed her from the entrance hall. They walked until the wails faded away, arriving at the study which in comparison was eerily quiet.

“Are you okay Pinkie?” Fluttershy asked, sounding concerned.

“I’ll be fine,” Pinkie replied weakly, taking a seat in her usual armchair while the others all sat down facing her. “I’m so sorry I never told you the truth.”

“It’s alright Pinkie,” Rarity assured her, although her voice sounded hollow. “I just can’t believe this… how could Twilight have done… all those terrible things?”

“It wasn’t Twilight…” Rainbow muttered.

“Rainbow…” Pinkie began sadly.

“It wasn’t,” Rainbow insisted. “It couldn’t have been. It must have been a changeling… or Discord. Twilight wouldn’t have done this.”

Pinkie sighed, looking down at her forehooves crossed over her lap.

“Celestia told me something,” Pinkie began after a short moment of silence. “After we won the game, and the search parties found us. She told me that several months before the first game; they managed to recover the fragment of Sombra’s horn that had been cut off during our first trip to the Empire.”

The other three eyed her curiously upon mention of this; Pinkie remembered her own interest being piqued when Celestia had brought it up.

“Celestia had it moved to Canterlot to be examined,” Pinkie continued, her voice becoming bitter. “But she discovered that doing so would be too dangerous for whoever underwent the task. So she allowed Twilight to examine it, never telling her about the dangers it posed to her. In the end, Twilight’s mind became corrupted, altered by whatever dark force was still in the horn, and Celestia just stood back and watched, never doing anything to save Twilight.”

“How could the Princess do that?” Rarity asked horrified.

“But that means it wasn’t really Twilight, she wasn’t in control,” Rainbow cut in, still sounding insistent.

“That’s what I had thought,” Pinkie replied forlornly. “But Celestia said it was still the Twilight we knew, she had just been given a new perspective on things.”

“So Twilight was… changed by the horn,” Fluttershy repeated, her voice odd. “But that still makes no sense. Why did that make her do this?”

Pinkie frowned, this was the uncomfortable part.

“She said… it was because of me,” Pinkie answered softly, her voice barely audible.

The others all stared at her in confusion, she could hardly blame them.

“During the last trial, after I figured out Twilight must have been the Mastermind,” Pinkie continued, “she told me how I had fascinated her, how she believed I was capable of great thing, of becoming her student and eventually her equal. She said that she needed to test me, to see if I was really the kind of pony she thought I was, and to do that she created the game. She enabled and encouraged ponies to kill one another all to see what I would do, how I would handle it.

“She said she’d always felt that way,” Pinkie finished, “but it was only recently she’d begun to consider it more seriously. I believe her exposure to the horn extenuated her interest in me, causing her to do what she did without any moral repercussions.”

The room was silent for a very long time as the others attempted to absorb the information Pinkie had just presented them with.

“This…” Rainbow began, her voice strained. “This is insane.”

“I know,” Pinkie agreed dully, before looking up at her friends. “Do you hate me? For lying? For it all being my fault?”

“No!” Fluttershy said quickly.

“Of course not dear,” Rarity concurred, her voice still weak. “I thought that everything you had gone through was hard on you before, but knowing this… We could never hate you for trying to hide this from us.”

“And don’t ever say that it was your fault,” Rainbow reprimanded sternly. “You didn’t kill those ponies. Twilight didn’t kill those ponies. Someone is to blame for this, the Princesses, Sombra, anyone but you Pinkie!”

“You were just a victim,” Fluttershy assured her, walking over and draping her forelegs and wings around Pinkie. “You and Twilight both.”

Pinkie sat frozen, hardly daring to believe what she was hearing.

They… don’t hate me. They don’t hate Twilight…

The stinging in Pinkie’s eyes was the only warning she received of the tears that began flooding her vision. As she began to cry, she felt another pair of ponies wrap themselves around her.

Day 11, 11:16

Pinkie brushed a hoof over the picture of Soarin, occasionally glancing between the healthy, smiling face in her hooves, to the pale, strained face of the body lying across the bed. Pinkie set the framed picture back down on the bedside cabinet and turned to the bed. Soarin didn’t look peaceful in death, his mutilated rib cage and shredded flight suit were bad enough, but despite their attempts to make him look at peace, Pinkie could still see the agony he experienced in his final moments etched into his face.

Rainbow Dash knelt beside the bed, clutching one of Soarin’s hooves in her own, her head bowed. Pinkie didn’t speak, opting to give Rainbow her moment of silence. As she waited she thought back to the morgue in the Arcane Manor. Obviously they had been unable to recover the bodies of those who had been executed this time round, the Mastermind apparently deciding against raising them up to the courtroom to truly hammer home what had happened. As well as this the bodies of the victims had disappeared, regardless of where they were when the trial started, when it was over there was no trace of them.

They had been lucky with Soarin in a way. After Rainbow had fled from the scene, distraught, the others saw to him while Pinkie was being treated. He had been taken to his own room where someone regularly checked in, to make sure the Mastermind didn’t spirit him away like the others, they knew Rainbow would want to see him when she recovered from the initial trauma.

“He saved you,” Rainbow whispered. “She would have killed you… but Soarin saved you, and now he’s dead.”

“It was the kind of pony he was,” Pinkie replied sadly. “He once said he would sooner die than take the life of an innocent pony. I didn’t want him to do it Rainbow, if it had been my choice I would have gladly died if it meant everypony else would live. Unfortunately he felt the same way.”

Rainbow didn’t answer; she just reached up and ran a hoof along the contours of his face. Pinkie took that as her cue to leave, she could talk to Rainbow later, for now she would give her solitude. As she stepped out of Soarin’s room and closed the door, she noticed Fleetfoot leaning casually against the wall.

“How’s she holding up?” she asked, gesturing towards the door Pinkie had just closed.

“It’s difficult to say,” Pinkie answered, heading down the corridor, Fleetfoot following. “She seems conflicted in how to feel, like one half of her wants to stay strong while the other half wants to curl up and cry. I kind of understand how she feels; this game has a way of complicating how you feel. A part of you always refuses to believe it’s real, at least until it’s over.”

Fleetfoot nodded as the pair left the residence tower and began walking towards the central chamber.

“I never did get to ask,” Pinkie said after a moment of awkward silence. “Did you have any trouble with Shining?”

“Nah, he cried like a baby all the way to his room,” she answered. “Just kind of passed out as soon as we got him onto his bed. I think he’s lost it.”

“Perhaps so,” Pinkie said as they began ascending the staircase to the waiting room. “We need to find a way of sealing off that cellar, he’s in a bad enough state right now without adding alcohol to the mix.”

“I can go see to that now if you want,” Fleetfoot offered.

“That would be good,” Pinkie replied as they came to a stop in the waiting room. “I need to help Fluttershy myself, the infirmary’s still in a state and we need to find the correct antibiotics again.”

“Alright, I’ll get right on it,” Fleetfoot said, turning to leave.

She only made it a few feet however before she came to a halt.

“Pinkie,” she called over her shoulder.

“Yeah?” Pinkie replied, stopping at the infirmary door and turning to see Fleetfoot standing looking uncomfortable.

“I just wanted to say I’m sorry,” she said, not making eye contact. “I know I haven’t been the easiest to work with since this whole thing started.”

“We’ve all been under a lot of stress,” Pinkie pointed out, surprised at Fleetfoot’s sudden apology.

“I won’t make excuses for how I acted,” Fleetfoot stated flatly. “I can be a total ass, I know that full well. Even to Soarin and Spitfire, they were my best friends. Heck, they were my only friends. I never understood why they ever put up with somepony like me, I always wanted to tell them how much I appreciated it, but that would have required me to open up and be all vu…”

Fleetfoot cringed, breathing heavily.

“But they’re gone,” she finished lamely. “My only friends are gone, and I’ll never get to tell them just how much they meant to me…”

Pinkie’s eyes widened in surprise as she noticed the flickering torch light reflecting off something that wasn’t Fleetfoot’s sunglasses. Acting on impulse, Pinkie strode forward and gripped Fleetfoot in a tight hug, which effectively stopped her crying before it began through sheer shock.

“I forgive you,” Pinkie whispered. “And thank you, for sticking by us this whole time… for being our friend.”

Day 11, 11:49

Pinkie glanced between the box in her hooves and the scrap of paper with the name Rarity had scribbled down for her, matching the pair together.

“Found it,” she announced to Fluttershy who was digging through her own cabinet on the other side of the room.

Crossing over, Fluttershy inspected the box, giving a little nod before depositing it in her saddlebags.

“Well hopefully we won’t need any more than that,” she commented, looking around the rest of the room. “So what will we do about the rest of this?”

Pinkie frowned, scanning over the mess Chrysalis had created.

“Pack away as much of it as possible and take inventory I guess,” Pinkie said at last. “Make sure nothing else went missing. I’m sorry if that’s asking a lot.”

“Oh, no it’s fine,” Fluttershy insisted before adding in a concerned voice. “Are you sure you don’t want anything else for your muzzle?”

“I’ll manage,” Pinkie replied. “It doesn’t hurt much anyway.”

“Still…” Fluttershy muttered before drifting off into silence. “I can do this myself if you have somewhere else to be. Somewhere more important.”

“It’s fine, really Fluttershy,” Pinkie insisted, leaning down to scoop up a bottle that had rolled under a bed. “I don’t really know what else I’m supposed to do at this point.”

“You haven’t had any thoughts about who the Mastermind is?” Fluttershy asked curiously.

“All we know is they had to be at the gala,” Pinkie informed her, “but that could one of hundreds. Without a way to narrow it down or a place to begin searching, there really isn’t much I can do at this point.”

“Well have you considered that maybe…” Fluttershy began while stepping over various litter strewn across the ground, but coming to a sudden stop.

“Considered what?” Pinkie asked, tidying the bottle away into the nearest cabinet.

When Fluttershy didn’t answer, Pinkie glanced up and saw her standing perfectly still, staring at a single cupboard whose door had been smashed in.

“What’s wrong?” Pinkie asked, walking over to her.

“This cupboard,” Fluttershy said, pointing to it. “It was locked.”

Pinkie looked back at it; with the door caved in it would easily swing open despite the state of its lock.

“Are you sure?” Pinkie asked, receiving a nod. “Maybe Chrysalis kicked it when she was smashing this place up.”

Fluttershy gave a noncommittal shrug before walking over to it, crouching down and gingerly pulling the door open. It immediately fell clean off its hinges causing Fluttershy to utter a little squeal. While Fluttershy was calming down, Pinkie angled her head, looking into the dark cupboard. It appeared completely empty bar a single object, a large brown folder.

Recovered, Fluttershy reached in and pulled it out, blowing the thin layer of dust from it. Pinkie couldn’t see the front of it from where she stood, but whatever it said caused Fluttershy to give a tiny gasp.

“What is it?” Pinkie asked quickly, trying to manoeuvre around the debris to get a look.

“Trixie,” Fluttershy stated.

“What?” Pinkie exclaimed.

Fluttershy turned the folder around so Pinkie could read the label.

Subject Name: Trixie

Psychological Assessment

“Why is that here?” Fluttershy asked warily.

“It shouldn’t be surprising, if this is indeed Canterlot,” Pinkie said, not nearly as surprised as Fluttershy, but still curious. “After the first game, during the investigation, we all had to undergo assessments to make sure we were… mentally stable. I only barely qualified for release, but Trixie…”

“I never did ask what happened to her,” Fluttershy said after Pinkie fell into silence. “Nurse Redheart I saw about Ponyville. You, Soarin and… well, not quite Fleur, were all here, but whatever happened to Trixie?”

“She… took the revelation of Twilight being the Mastermind really hard,” Pinkie informed her. “I barely saw her again after we were picked up and taken back to Canterlot, but from what I heard she didn’t cope well. She attempted to kill herself, failed but did a lot of damage. Shortly before Celestia told me about Twilight’s research, Trixie escaped from Canterlot, ran away. Guards were sent out to retrieve her, but I don’t think they ever did find her.”

“Where do you think she went?” Fluttershy asked, sounding slightly scared.

“I assume she succeeded at taking her own life,” Pinkie replied nonchalantly. “Probably in a way that would have made her body tough to find, like drowning in lake or something.”

“You really don’t think she’s still alive?” Fluttershy questioned.

“I don’t realistically believe that,” Pinkie stated flatly.

“Poor Trixie,” Fluttershy said, staring at the folder. “It’s weird, I barely knew her but I feel sad none the less.”

“Of course you do,” Pinkie said, taking the folder away from Fluttershy. “You’re a good pony.”

“If you want to read that I can work away here on my own,” Fluttershy offered again.

Pinkie was tempted to agree this time, curiosity gnawing at her as to the contents of the assessment. However her better nature overcame.

“It can wait,” she said firmly, setting the folder down on Fluttershy’s desk. “I’ll help you first.”

Day 11, 14:02

Pinkie was feeling impatient, eager to read the folder stored away in her saddlebags, but she needed to see to some things first. Turning the corner she quickly saw Fleetfoot’s makeshift barricade in front of the cellar door at the end of the hallway. It seemed she had dragged a large reading desk from the study, propping it up on its end and wedging it through the doorframe.

Satisfied it would send Shining Armour the right message, Pinkie nodded and continued towards the kitchen. The stress of the last couple days had effectively distracted her from her hunger, but now it was catching up to her, and she didn’t doubt the rest were feeling the same. Entering the still immaculate kitchen, she was surprised at finding Rarity and Maud already working away, apparently having had the same thought as her.

“Oh, hello darling,” Rarity said tersely, hearing Pinkie enter. “I hope you don’t mind, but we thought we’d get some lunch made for everypony.”

“Not at all, it’s actually why I’m here,” Pinkie informed her. “I also wanted to find you, Fluttershy and I found the right antibiotics.”

“Oh?” Rarity stated, stepping back from the cooker and walking over to a table where her saddlebags lay. “So the infirmary is all fixed up?”

“Pretty much,” Pinkie replied as Rarity set the lock box on the table between them. “When we ran inventory we found those pills you’d been given were just high dosage painkillers. Probably just have made us feel sick, but then Chrysalis was probably banking on somepony noticing the difference in order to cause more fighting.”

Inserting the key, Pinkie opened the lockbox where the incorrect medicine boxes lay. They quickly exchanged them for the single box Pinkie had brought with her.

“Only one box?” Rarity commented. “Could you not find any others or do you believe we won’t need any more?”

“Well, there aren’t many of us left,” Pinkie muttered. “We won’t need many.”

Rarity nodded solemnly.

“I’ll give out the first dose during lunch,” she assured Pinkie.

“Alright, I guess I’ll go find the others and tell them to come down,” Pinkie said, storing the painkillers in her bags before leaving the kitchen.

Day 11, 14:28

Pinkie eyed Shining as the pair walked together towards the banquet hall. He appeared completely zoned out, seeming to barely recognise her when she came to his room to collect him. He looked like a stallion who had given up on everything.

Better this than trying to kill me.

Pinkie briefly considered striking up a conversation, maybe even trying to get Shining to open up about his problems, but any attempt to was quickly thrown out the window. Entering the banquet hall, Pinkie found they were the last to arrive. Octavia sat surrounded by books and notes, eating away at her food almost subconsciously like she wasn’t aware she was doing it.

Maud was already finished her own food, patiently sitting in silence. Fluttershy was nervously glancing at everyone around her in between her own bites, as if she expected someone to object. Rarity was fiddling about with her hoof computer, her food forgotten. Fleetfoot had also finished her own food and now sat with her head hung, looking like she was about to doze off. Lastly Rainbow sat picking unenthusiastically through her meal, looking too lost in her own thoughts to actually eat anything.

Pinkie walked Shining over to one of the empty spaces where he collapsed heavily into his chair and proceeded to stare blankly at his food. Leaving him be, Pinkie crossed to the opposite side and took a seat beside Rarity. Glancing at what Rarity was doing, she saw she had the map brought up on her screen.

“I was just contemplating how much we’d seen,” Rarity explained, realising she was being observed. “There doesn’t seem to be many places left to go that aren’t locked.”

Pinkie nodded, the map of the castle had certainly grown rapidly since the first day, but then Pinkie hardly needed it anymore, finding her way around the castle quite easily at this point. A rapid movement in the corner of her eye caused her to look back up at Shining Armour. It appeared he had snapped out of his daze and quickly guzzled down his drink, now looking disappointed at finding it was only water in his glass.

Looking back at Rarity, Pinkie’s eyes were drawn to her dress. It still looked immaculate despite everything it must have endured since arriving here; no doubt Rarity had been taking rigorous care of it.

“Oh yeah, Rarity,” Pinkie began, suddenly remembering the crumpled heap on her bedroom floor. “I was meaning to ask you, would you be able to give my dress a bit of a clean-up?”

Rarity gave Pinkie a genuine smile, possibly her first in a while.

“Why I’d love to darling,” she replied beaming. “I’ll get right on it.”

Pinkie opened her mouth, but Rarity was already skipping from the room. Pinkie glanced down at Rarity’s unfinished lunch.

“I’ll store it away,” Maud said suddenly, following Pinkie’s gaze. “In case she wants it later.”

“I didn’t mean for her to do it right now,” Pinkie stated, frowning.

“She probably needs something to distract her from everything,” Maud suggested.

Pinkie nodded, starting into her own food, noticing Shining Armour had finally done the same.

Day 11, 15:13

Pinkie reclined in her usual armchair in the study, taking a moment to relax before addressing the contents of the folder on her lap. After lunch Fleetfoot and Rainbow Dash had escorted Shining Armour away, he seemed docile enough, but the pair agreed to keep an eye on him. Maud had left to check on Rarity while Fluttershy had offered to help Octavia transport her materials back to the library. This left Pinkie on her own, with only one thing on her mind.

Pinkie opened her eyes and looked down at the cover of the folder. Without hesitating she opened it up and scanned the first page. The beginning of the report was a printed page with Trixie’s personal details filled in, Pinkie skimmed through it, picking out random bits of information.

Self-employed…

No permanent residence…

No immediate relatives…

Even before, Pinkie had never stopped to consider the kind of life Trixie led, where she had come from, if she had a family or friends. Pinkie could feel a twinge of regret growing inside her, she had had plenty of time and opportunities to ask Trixie those questions, to learn more about who she really was, but the thought had never crossed her mind.

Turning the page reluctantly, Pinkie was now faced with another printed page detailing Trixie’s medical history. The information here was even scarcer, Trixie had apparently led a relatively healthy existence, however the doctor had occasionally jotted down a question mark next to some of the details, almost like he doubted their sincerity. Turning the page Pinkie finally found something more substantial.

The subject remains unresponsive, clearly still too traumatised by what has occurred to give a full report of her experiences to either myself or the investigating officers. Most of her personal information was provided by public records, and she has been unable to confirm any of it. Until we begin to see the barest improvements in the form of communication I must recommend keeping the subject under permanent watch.

Pinkie thought about this, while it had been difficult recounting her experiences, she hadn’t resisted. Glancing over the next few pages Pinkie found that Trixie had maintained her silence over a number of sessions. It was only by the fifth session that the doctor reported any change in her behaviour.

The subject finally spoke today, when asked if she needed anything to make her more comfortable she replied ‘no thank you’. While this is not overly significant, I believe it is an encouraging sign that she will be showing more improvement in the coming sessions.

Pinkie turned to the next page without stopping. The next report appeared to skip a number of sessions. Double checking, Pinkie was sure she hadn’t skipped any, either some reports were missing or they had never been filed.

Trixie has grown considerably more responsive over the last three days, however I still recommend holding off on her investigation interviews. As of the moment she is only casually discussing minor details about her life here in the castle, she says she appreciates the time she’s allowed to walk around the gardens. Until she begins to appear more stable, I believe any attempt at forcing her to acknowledge her experience will only have a negative effect on her.

Pinkie didn’t doubt her and Trixie had had very different experiences in those weeks. Pinkie had cooperated with the investigators and the princesses, so that in the rare times she wasn’t being hounded for information she was free to traverse the castle without supervision. She had seen Trixie briefly on one of her walks around the sculpture gardens, remembering how she was escorted by a nurse and flanked by two guards. Turning her attention back to the report, Pinkie continued to the next page.

The subject has taken a turn for the worse. I’m not sure what brought on this change; perhaps a careless mention of what happened by one of the guards. Whatever it was, Trixie is now displaying clear signs of imbalance. While lucid she appears terrified and distraught, crying and screaming all the time. Any attempts to calm or restrain her at these times are met with aggression. From what she’s said during these times she appears fully aware of what occurred at the manor. However, perhaps more concerning, are the other times when she appears to take on a state of delusion, an entirely different personality.

At these times she is friendly and talkative, helpful even. However she has no recollection of the incident at the manor, appearing genuinely oblivious when asked directly about it. This behaviour became particularly disturbing when she began asking ‘When can I see Twilight’. She would repeatedly ask variations on this, regardless of what answers she received before. When I asked her to elaborate on why she was here, she recounted a fanciful tale of how Twilight Sparkle agreed to take her under her wing, and Trixie was now living in the castle to receive tutelage from her.

Occasionally she would make enigmatic statements along the lines of ‘I live to carry out her will’ or ‘if it’s what Twilight wants, then I want it for her’. I would like to take a few more sessions with her, but at this point I think it’s safe to say I will be recommending her for more extensive psychological treatment.

Pinkie stared at the sheet in front of her, the quotes repeating in her mind.

Trixie became deluded over Twilight? To what extent I wonder?

Flicking to the next page Pinkie found that it had skipped another couple of sessions, this one occurring after an incident she was familiar with.

Subject has attempted to commit suicide. Medical staff inform me that she is lucky to still be alive after so much blood loss, she may have done herself permanent damage, but we won’t know for sure until the doctors are finished examining her. From what her nurse has reported, she appeared to be in her lucid state at the time leading up to it. The nurse had left briefly to find someone who could help calm Trixie down, she returned just in time. I doubt I will get another opportunity to speak with her even if she comes out of this physically well.

Pinkie had known this much before, at the time she had almost been thankful for it, receiving her first entire day of peace while everyone was busying themselves with Trixie. The next page did not skip sessions, but this one seemed to occur a few days after the suicide attempt.

Trixie claims to have no recollection of her attempt at taking her own life, whether it be in her lucid or delusional state. On that note her personality shifts have become far more rapid, switching numerous times in this one session, on one occasion while she was talking. Both personalities appear to have been altered by her near death. While delusional she now seems to recall bits and pieces regarding Twilight’s ‘game’, but doesn’t regard herself as a victim in it, or even that what Twilight did was wrong.

Pinkie raised an eyebrow before continuing.

The change to her lucid state is considerably more intriguing however. She appears calm and collected, still fully aware of what happened at the manor, but acts as if she is coping with it. She was able to give her first full account of what happened today, and for the most part it matches up perfectly with the other survivors. I still believe she will need to undergo further treatment after this, but she might be able to take her interview yet.

It appeared Trixie had been having quite the emotional rollercoaster. Pinkie would never say she had had it easy, but her own experience was starting to look like a picnic in comparison to Trixie’s. The next page continued to the very next day and session, and Pinkie made a note of the date across the top. It was the day before Trixie escaped.

Trixie’s behaviour was even more peculiar today. Very occasionally she would switch to her deluded persona, but the spells were quick, almost like she was consciously suppressing them. She said today was her last session with me, I’m unsure what she meant, I asked around afterwards and I am still scheduled to work with her for another week at least. However she stated on multiple occasions that there was nothing more for me to do, that I couldn’t help her, that it was something she had to confront on her own.

Her bandages were removed today, and despite everyone’s insistence her wounds are random, I can’t help but look at them and feel that they were deliberate, like there is some kind of pattern to them. Almost all of what she said today was coherent, but so much of it made little to no sense. I will be quite eager to see what behaviour she displays tomorrow at this rate.

Pinkie sat back in her armchair, there were a couple more pages but she knew this doctor would never speak to Trixie again. The next morning the alarms were raised and the guards were sent out, and that would be the last anypony ever saw of Trixie.

Still…

Pinkie looked back down at the report, and flicked the page, curious to see what more the doctor would have to say.

Trixie has escaped, nopony has any clue as to how she pulled it off, it’s almost as if she teleported. Were that not impossible inside the section of the castle she has been secluded to, I wouldn’t doubt that was the method used. I hope the guards catch up with her before she does anything too serious, in this time I’ve certainly become sympathetic towards her, and I’d hate to see anything bad happen to her after all she’s been through.

Pinkie flicked past the brief section, onto the final page, curious as to what more could be said.

They found her…

Pinkie snapped upright in her seat, staring in disbelief at the writing before her.

They found her, she’s alive. She would be in custody now, but somehow she managed to evade the guards yet again. She was located, hiding out in an abandoned farmhouse in the West side of Whitetail Woods. A search of the premise found an alarming number of dark magic materials in the basement. I am greatly worried, both for what Trixie has been doing, and what she will do. I can only hope the guards catch up with her again, and this time manage to bring her in. It’s for her own good.

Pinkie eyes flickered up to the date, it was written over a month after the last report, she would have been trying to re-establish her life in Ponyville at the time. She flipped the page over, desperate for some closure, some final words explaining how it ended. Instead, all she found were four words daubed on the back of the final page, not in ink, but some dark ichor like substance.

Back to the beginning.

Pinkie stared at the cryptic message, deflating when she realised this report would never tell her what happened to Trixie. Closing the folder over, she let it slid off her lap as she flopped back in her seat.

Delusions… Broken personalities… Dark Magic…

Pinkie felt a chill run up her spine as a dark thought began worming its way into her mind.

How much did you worship Twilight? To what extend would you go to be like her?

Day 11, 16:06

“You look stunning,” Rarity said, as Pinkie did a lit spin in her squeaky clean dress.

“Thanks Rarity,” Pinkie said. It sounded hollow, her thoughts elsewhere. “Honestly I don’t know why we’re still wearing these.”

“For a splash of style of course,” Rarity replied.

“Well now that my style no longer smells of death I won’t argue,” Pinkie joked morbidly.

The pair left the wash room and began walking down the corridor together, Pinkie barely registered where they were going, her thoughts still focused on what she had read.

“Is something the matter dear?” Rarity asked, noticing Pinkie’s expression.

“Huh? Oh, I was just thinking,” Pinkie replied, when she realised Rarity was waiting for her to continue she quickly told a half truth. “About who the Mastermind is supposed to be.”

“Fluttershy and I were discussing that earlier,” Rarity said nodding, “And then again with your sister while preparing lunch. We all agreed, that based on what you’ve told us, there might be something more to this horn.”

“Horn? You mean Sombra’s?” Pinkie asked, she had barely ever thought about that, despite its apparent relevance.

“Well yes, if what Celestia says is true,” Rarity continued. “Then Twilight… did what she did because she was exposed to it, maybe somepony else was.”

Pinkie rubbed her chin with a hoof; it was certainly a good idea.

“I don’t even know where the horn was being kept,” Pinkie said at last. “And even if I knew that, this castle is laid out nothing like the original Canterlot castle.”

“Well at least it will give us a place to start,” Rarity said encouragingly. “And if we cross reference possible ponies exposed with those attended the gala, we might actually get somewhere.”

“That’s actually a really good idea Rarity,” Pinkie replied, slightly embarrassed at not having thought of it herself.

“Well that latter part was your sister’s idea,” Rarity admitted, her cheeks reddening slightly.

Pinkie walked with a slight skip in her step after that, they had direction and an objective, that she could work with. However her sister's words from that morning resurfaced in her mind, she cringed and tried to look as unhappy as possible as they continued walking.

Day 11, 20:17

Pinkie entered the residence tower just in time to catch the tail end of a conversation Fleetfoot and Rainbow Dash were having.

“You sure you’re gonna be alright?” Fleetfoot asked, sounding concerned. “It’s alright to want some company after what you’ve been through, we won’t judge you.”

“No really, it’s alright,” Rainbow replied, her voice unsteady and her back turned to both Fleetfoot and Pinkie. “But thanks anyway Fleetfoot, really. You’re a lot nicer than I gave you credit for.”

With that she walked away, leaving Fleetfoot standing on her own. Pinkie began walking forward, the other Pegasus’s ear twitching slightly as she did.

“Oh, hey Pinkie,” Fleetfoot greeted, turning to face her.

“Hey Fleetfoot, is Rainbow alright?” Pinkie replied, stopping next to her.

“She says she is,” Fleetfoot stated, looking off in the direction Rainbow had left in. “I know she doesn’t mean it, I just hope she doesn’t do anything stupid.”

“You and me both,” Pinkie agreed, nodding sagely. “But going from what she said there, you two seem to be getting along well.”

“Yeah, it seems,” Fleetfoot replied, smiling awkwardly. “I guess everypony’s friendly nature is rubbing off on me, though I must say it’s nice to feel like I’m actually liked.”

“Why would you ever think otherwise?” Pinkie asked, curious.

“I don’t know, it’s just what I always knew I guess,” Fleetfoot muttered. “Everypony I knew growing up was an ass to me, so I was ass right back; it’s all I really knew.”

“What about your family?” Pinkie asked, regretting it immediately when Fleetfoot flinched, a look of pain on her face.

“I’d… rather not talk about them,” Fleetfoot said, her eyes clenched slightly.

“I’m sorry,” Pinkie replied awkwardly.

“No, it’s not your fault,” Fleetfoot insisted, starting to walk away. “I’ll see you tomorrow Pinkie.”

“Alright, I was just speaking with Octavia there, and there’s some stuff we’ve gotta do tomorrow,” Pinkie informed her as she continued walking.

“Sounds good,” Fleetfoot called over her shoulder. “Night Pinks.”

Pinkie raised an eyebrow.

Did she just call me Pinks?

Pinkie smirked as she walked over to her own bedroom door. As she turned the handle she noticed yellow out the corner of her eye.

“Oh, hi Fluttershy,” Pinkie greeted, looking over at the Pegasus who was watching her awkwardly from the end of the hall. “Is something the matter?”

“Oh, no. Everything’s fine,” Fluttershy said, lying badly. “I was just wondering, if maybe… you…”

Her voice trailed off into little more than a whisper.

“Do you want to repeat that?” Pinkie asked curiously.

“No, it doesn’t matter,” Fluttershy insisted, walking quickly past Pinkie, her head hanging so her mane covered her face.

“Fluttershy!” Pinkie called, making the Pegasus freeze. “What’s wrong?”

“I just wondered,” Fluttershy began again. “If maybe, you would like… do you have nightmares?”

Pinkie blinked, Fluttershy’s whole demeanour changed as she uttered that last question, her voice becoming loud and fast. Pinkie could tell Fluttershy had quickly changed what she was about to say.

“What do you mean nightmares?” Pinkie asked. “You mean the voices at night? The sounds?”

Fluttershy nodded.

“Yeah I get them,” Pinkie admitted.

“Well, if they bothered you,” Fluttershy continued, shifting awkwardly. “Maybe we should sleep in the same room, in case one of us gets scared.”

“Oh, I see what’s going on,” Pinkie said, the truth dawning on her.

“You do?!” Fluttershy exclaimed, her eyes wide.

“Fluttershy, if you’re scared at night you don’t have to hide it,” Pinkie assured her. “Of course you can sleep in my room, whatever I can do to help you with your nightmares.”

“Oh, yes,” Fluttershy said, her body sagging ever so slightly. “That’s exactly it. Thank you Pinkie.”

“Hey, what are friends for?” Pinkie stated, pulling Fluttershy into a comforting hug, receiving only a sigh in response.

Day 12, 00:00

Pinkie awoke, at first unsure why. It took a few seconds for her mind to focus and her sense to sharpen; when they did she registered the distinct absence of her companion in bed. Pinkie sat bolt upright, looking all around the room for Fluttershy.

“Fluttershy,” she called out in a low voice.

The dark room was completely empty besides herself. Confused, Pinkie slipped out from under the covers which had already been drawn back on the other side. Standing up she walked around the bed to the door, her heart stopping when her eyes fell on the latch.

The door was unlocked.

“Fluttershy,” Pinkie whispered to herself, confusion steadily being replaced by worry.

Pinkie hurried over to her desk, ignoring her dress completely she opened her saddlebags. Everything was still there, the knife, the gun, Trixie’s report…

No, not everything was there. The picture of Twilight was missing. Pinkie checked and double checked her saddlebags, opened all the drawers in her desk and bedside cabinet. She was faced with on undeniable fact, the picture was gone.

Priorities Pinkie!

Pinkie slapped herself in the face, it was just some picture, who cared about some picture, Fluttershy was gone. Pinkie looked back at the unlocked door, the faint sound of whispering coming from beyond.

If Fluttershy went out there… I have to go find her.

Pinkie threw on her saddlebags, leaving most of its contents on the desk surface. Only the knife and revolver were still inside. Walking over to the door, Pinkie checked the latch one last time, confirming it was indeed unlocked, then moved her hoof across to the door handle. She braced herself for what lay ahead, and as the whispering grew louder, she turned the handle.

Author's Notes:

This is where things get crazy!
Oh, and food for thought. Even though the murder hasn't occurred yet, there will still only be three parts in this chapter.