Author's Note Part I

This is where the proverbial fecal matter hits the equally proverbial rotational blade. If you can handle the material in this chapter, you can probably handle the rest of the story.

The Artisan Room was a flurry of activity. Actresses hastily flipped through their scripts, practiced expressions in the mirror or tried not to freak out, all while seamstresses and makeup artists darted to and fro trying to get costumes fixed. The second act would begin shortly and not a single pony thought there was enough time.

Except for one.

Coco Pommel sewed with the speed of experience, her tongue sticking out the side of her mouth as she fixed the small rip in the cloth. She knew every seam and crease in these costumes. She’d designed them, after all.

“Try to keep steady, Mr. Right.”

The actor, a teal earth pony named Play Right, barely managed to nod his head and keep his hind leg up for her at the same time. “R-right you are, Ms. Pommel. J-just… stand still.”

She kept her giggle beneath her breath, having become well accustomed to the stage fright of rookie actors. “Relax. It’s just a little rip, nothing unusual. Your performance was great, and the next one will be just as good.” She wasn’t going to mention that she didn’t even get to see it, having been backstage preparing her crew for the intermission.

“O-of course it will be.” His attempt at a grin wouldn’t have fooled a blind mare. “I’m going to do j-just fine.”

Coco nodded with a bright smile. Biting off the excess string, she smoothed the fold in the pants leg and stepped back to admire her work. Just as she’d anticipated, only those looking very closely would be able to see the repair job. “All done!”

“Really?” He examined the leg, then heaved a short sigh. “Wow. I can see why you’re the leader here.”

She set aside her thread and needle and inspected his naval costume, keeping the time in her head. She moved a little closer, prompting the stallion to blush and glance away. After a few seconds, she located and, with one easy click of teeth, dealt with a loose thread. She stepped back, looked him up and down once more, then nodded. “Alright, you’re ready to go back on stage.”

His eyes widened. “What? Oh, right, I better—”

Laughing, she threw up a hoof to stop him before he could leave the room. “Not now, silly, wait for the announcement.”

He promptly fell to his haunches and nodded, face redder than ever. “R-right. Sorry.”

Coco turned to examine the work of the other ponies. Though it may have appeared a chaotic scene to the casual bystander, she knew better. Her ponies were working like a well-oiled machine, dancing around one another for supplies, chatting with the actors to keep them calm and prepped, and generally doing exactly what they were meant to. The sight filled her with no small amount of pride; three years of work and they were all finally in tip-top shape. For the first time ever, she didn’t see a single pony in need of her guidance.

She turned to one of the trainees, there tonight largely to watch and learn. “Swift Stitch? Would you check on the progress with Mr. Class Act’s costume?”

The mare, who had been watching another apply makeup with intense focus, jumped upon hearing her name. “You want m-me to see Mr. Class Act?”

Coco offered an encouraging smile. “Just tell the girls to report on the costume change and come back. Nothing to it.”

“O-of course, yes ma’am.” Swift Stitch left the room at a fast trot, barely avoiding slamming into a stallion carrying a few costumes to the dress racks.

That task done, and guessing she had a few minutes yet before the call came for places, she turned back to Play Right. He jerked his face away from her, too late for the motion to go unnoticed. “Is something wrong, Mr. Right?”

“Not at all,” he replied swiftly. She wondered if his cheeks would ever go back to their original color. “I was just… ah… admiring how much control you have over the crew.”

She tilted her head to one side, trying to get a look at his face. “But?”

“What but?” His eyes darted to her for a split second. “There’s no but.”

Coco smiled. Sitting down, she set a hoof to his shoulder; the contact made him flinch. “Mr. Right, this is the third night of the play. You did just fine in the last two shows. Why do you think things will be any different now?”

He glanced at her hoof. Shifting from side to side, he licked his lips. He still couldn’t meet her gaze. “I don’t think… I mean, th-that’s not what’s…” He groaned and set a fetlock over his muzzle. “I must look like a foal to you.”

“Nonsense.” She moved in front of him and began fixing his sash. “You’re a bright, skilled and dashing actor with a bit of stage fright. Honestly, you’re better than I was at my first show.” She took note of his ever burning cheeks as she smoothed the last crease from his shirt. “Although I don’t think I had as much rouge on my face.”

He blinked and reached up to rub his cheek, then examined at his hoof. Finding nothing, he gave her a quizzical look… then facehooved. “I can’t believe I just did that.”

As Coco giggled, her ears perked to the call for actors. “That’s your cue. Don’t worry, you’ll be just as good tonight as you were yesterday.”

“Right.” He hesitated, eyes shifting and lips working. Whatever he intended to say, however, it never came; he hurried after the others and disappeared from the room.

With a satisfied sigh, Coco turned in a circle to survey the wreckage. It wasn’t nearly as bad as it might have been, but there was still one more intermission to prepare for.

“Sorry, Miss Pommel!” Swift Stitch came galloping up to her, out of breath. “I’m sorry, I tried to get back before the call for the actors, but—”

Coco waved a hoof before the pony with another of her disarming smiles. “It’s okay, Swift. Class Act doesn’t make his next appearance until the fifth scene, there’s more than enough time.”

“Oh, o-of course.” Swift Stitch sagged with relief… only to straighten up an instant later. “I knew that, though. I read the script and know it all like the back of my hoof, honest!”

With a giggle, Coco patted the pony’s shoulder. “Relax, Swift. I wasn’t testing you or anything.”

“Not a test. I knew that.” She nodded firmly, but her legs still wobbled.

Silence lingered between them. Coco, a knowing smile on her lips, leaned forward and tilted her head. “And Mr. Act’s costume change?”

“Oh! Yes, that.” Swift’s laugh was just a little too loud, her eyes darting about the room as if she expected all eyes to be upon her. None were, of course. “Fine Twine told me to tell you that everything’s ‘On time and looking fabulous.’ Direct quote.”

“Perfect!” Coco clapped her hooves, earning a relieved grin from the trainee. “Now, why don’t you help Millinery Mastery get the costumes ready for act three?”

With Swift having something to do, Coco found herself alone for the time being. She walked to the door of the room and turned to take in the sight of her crew. Pride swelled within her as she watched them all doing their absolute best in every regard. To think, these were her ponies. Three years ago, she’d have never imagined being in this position.

“What in Equestria are you still doing here?”

Coco turned to the voice to find a pink crystal pony smirking at her. “Naughty Notions, whatever do you mean?”

The mare rolled her eyes, her smirk not fading in the slightest. “I mean you being here when you should be going to watch the play.”

“Oh, I couldn’t.” Coco turned her watchful gaze back to her crew. “We have to be ready for the third act, after all.”

“Come on now.” Notions bumped her flank against Coco’s with a saucy grin. “You really think we can’t handle ourselves? You’ve earned a break, and some eye candy.”

It took a moment for the pony’s words to register in her ears. Coco turned to her with a small frown. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Notions’ smile faded. She stared at Coco as if she had never seen her before, then leaned forward and waved her hoof over Coco’s eyes. Coco merely tilted her head.

“You really mean it, don’t you?” Notions sighed and pressed a hoof to her forehead. “Coco, are you really that dense?”

Coco sat back and stared at the ceiling, lost for a moment in thought. At last she shrugged. “I guess so?”

Her second-in-command shook her by the shoulders hard enough to make her head flop. “How can you be so blind? Didn’t you see how nervous he was?”

“H-how n-nerv-vous who-o w-w-was-s-s?”

Much to Coco’s relief, Notions let her go and stepped back. She waited for Coco’s eyes to stop swirling before speaking up, her words much softer now. “It’s really hard to believe that Coco Pommel, one of the most sought after costume designers in Manehattan, is still such a naïve little filly. I’m talking about Play Right, you silly mare.”

Coco stared at the crystal pony, her lips slightly parted in a stupefied expression. “What about him?”

Notions bowed and shook her head. “Coco, I asked you to work on his costume for a reason. Do you really think all that blushing and fidgeting had anything to do with his coming performance?”

“Umm…” Coco cocked her head yet again. “Yes?”

One facehoof later, Notions was shoving her towards the door. “You’re going to go out there and watch the performance, and then you are going to go up to Mr. Right and tell him how good he was. You are going to lay it on thick, and if he doesn’t ask you out then you are going to ask him.”

“I’m going to what?” Coco’s legs locked, but that didn’t deter Notions from forcing her the rest of the way out the door. “W-wait a minute, Notions, you can’t be serious!”

“Like a changeling invasion.”

She spun around, putting her hoof through the door before it could be closed on her. “B-but why would I… I’ve never… Naughty, you’ve got it all wrong!”

The crystal pony grinned through the opening and pressed her hoof to Coco’s. “Bet you a free dinner at Liberty’s I don’t.” Then, with a light push, she freed the door’s path and closed it.

Coco gaped at the wood, cheeks blooming. “You… b-but I don’t know how to…” She reached up, worked the door handle. It didn’t budge. “Naughty! You… you…” She struggled to come up with the worst, most crippling insult she could possibly devise for an act this low. “You meanie!”

The anger disappeared as she realized exactly what she said. Goddess, was that really the best she could do? The heat returning to her cheeks, she hurried down the hall with the hope nopony saw that silly display.

Her hooves took her backstage, which may well have been the last place she wanted to be. Her ears perked to the voices of the actors going through the motions, and she looked up to see prop workers awaiting their cues. Ladders, ropes and set pieces littered the area, and above she could just make out ponies on the catwalks working the lights. Play Right was nowhere to be seen.

Coco didn’t know whether to be thrilled or disappointed. After all, she needed to talk to him and make sure he knew what Notions was scheming, lest the rumors catch him first. Then again – and this left Coco’s legs weak – what if that crazy crystal pony was right? She had no idea what she would say to him! She’d had a suitor or two before, but they’d always been direct in their intentions. Play Right…

She had no idea. Of anything; whether he liked her, whether she liked him, both were toss ups. She’d only known the stallion for a few short days. Relationships didn’t start that fast! Did they?

Sucking down her anxiety as best she could, Coco stumbled her way stage right, mumbling apologies to the actors and crew as she went. She had no idea where they were with the play, and she shouldn’t be here in the first place, but what else was she supposed to do? Sit outside the Artisan Room until Notions was finally forced to open it for the second intermission? She’d look like such a foal.

And if Play Right was interested…

With a sigh, she stepped into the light and turned to watch the play from the sidelines, making sure to stand in a place out of the way of the others. No matter how much she might want to run into some costume closet and hide for the rest of her days, Coco knew she couldn’t ignore this. Rarity had taught her not to avoid her problems, and she wasn’t about to start now.

Nodding to herself, she settled down to watch the play. It wasn’t anything special in terms of plot – typical revenge story where a young prince is betrayed by some old friend and has to save the day and the mare. What made this play special was that it had an all-star cast; big budget, big investors and big names equated to big crowds. It was easily the highest budget Coco had ever been allowed to play with.

Ah, and there was Play Right. That a rookie actor like him had landed as important a role as one of the prince’s confidants was impressive. At the moment he stood upstage left, listening as the prince had a conversation with a supposed beggar, actually a wise mare. Before long Play Right would step in and criticize her advice. Coco knew the lines by heart, and quietly whispered some of them to herself in tandem with the actors.

Play Right’s eyes drifted to land on her. His face instantly grew more red than a ripe apple. The sight had Coco locking her legs, alarm filling her; not three seconds ago he’d been steady as a rock, but now he wavered like an autumn leaf in a windstorm!

It proved an eye-opening moment, for she realized that Notions had been dead on in her accusations. Coco felt so stupid for having not noticed. How was she supposed to deal with this? What if he really did ask her out after the play? Or if not… how would she be able to work with him from now on? The show was going to be running for six months, and she’d be maintaining his costumes…

Oh. Oh. She pictured herself peering at him, studying him up close. Tweaking his outfit and touching his body as she did, blissfully unaware of exactly why his cheeks wouldn’t cool down.

Much like now.

Abruptly, Coco realized an entirely new problem: the poor stallion was so nervous with her watching that he could mess up his lines! The play might be ruined, and it would be her fault. She couldn’t just step away, that might make things worse! What if her walking off left him disappointed and he couldn’t say his lines right anyway? What to do, what to do?!

His first line was coming! She scoured her brain for something, anything that might help him…

She acted on the first thing that came to mind; she offered as encouraging a smile as she could and waved. Such a simple thing, but it got a reaction; Play Right stopped fidgeting and stared at her as if in a daze. Then, slowly, he returned her smile.

And missed his line. Coco waved frantically at the stage, and he came out of his cute little stupor an instant later. He stepped forward a little too quickly, but to his credit was able to reign in his speed before reaching his proper placement. He glanced at her, offering one more tiny smile, turned to the crowd, opened his mouth…

Nothing.

Coco stared. Some of the ponies on the stage cast glances at him, but everypony could see his lips moving. Coco rubbed her ears before tilting them forward, but not a sound emerged from Play Right. After a moment he paused, feeling at his throat and appearing as startled as everypony else.

It was then that Coco noticed it; the silence. It fell upon them like a blanket, damping out everything that might make a sound and leaving behind an eerie, fathomless vacuum. She looked to see the backstage crew paused in their work, all looking as startled as she felt. Noting how her hooves made no click or clop on the floorboards, she stepped forward and looked to find the ponies in the crowd trying to speak amongst themselves and clearly failing.

Her eyes met Play Right’s. She mouthed “What happened?” He responded by raising his forehooves in a shrug, a lost expression on his face.

Then the entire theatre rocked as some kind of white energy rose from the floor. It rolled over every surface and pony, a mass-less force that left a tingling sensation going up Coco’s spine. It flew upwards like a wave and disappeared through the ceiling within a couple of seconds. Coco’s eyes followed it, and when she looked down she found the world… different.

Everything was pale. It struck her as though the theater had been covered in fog, except there were no clouds, just a white haze that encompassed everything. Even the ponies had gained a sickly tint to their features, though none of them appeared to have been harmed as a result. Coco looked down and saw that her own cream coat had lightened so much she might as well consider herself white.

She rubbed at her leg, half expecting a powder or paint to come off. There was no change at all. Her coat hadn’t even lost its texture, feeling the same now as it always had.

An sound between a thump and a wingbeat hit her ears, and suddenly the world was alive again! Ponies were shouting and running about and trying to make sense of their new white world, but everypony went quiet when they realized that they could hear again. This lasted for only a heartbeat before the cacophony resumed just as loud as before.

“Coco! Are you alright?”

She looked up to find Play Right standing before her, worry plain on his face. His regular teal color had become several shades lighter and his yellow mane had a sickly tint. Even his eyes, once a bright green, seemed to have dimmed. His costume hadn’t fared any better. If she hadn’t known otherwise, she might have thought him a ghost.

“I’m alright,” she said, turning a circle in place as she tried to examine herself. “But this is… odd. How did we end up like this? Did some spell go off?”

“Maybe it’s some kind of prank?” he offered, though by his tone he found that questionable.

“I don’t know, but something tells me the show’s canceled for the night.”

They turned to stare at both the audience and the actors, all of whom were milling about and arguing amongst themselves. More than a few of the crowd were heading for the exits. Play Right wilted, his chin nearly touching the ground. “Yeah, I think you’re right.”

Coco examined the area, wondering if there was anything she might do to help. It didn’t take long for the theatre manager to take control of the situation, though. “I guess I’d better head back and let my ponies know what’s happened,” she grumbled, turning to go backstage.

“I’ll go with you.” Play Right trotted alongside her, averting his eyes when she gave him a questioning look. “J-just to make myself seem useful.”

She couldn’t help but smile. “Thank you, Mr. Right.”

The area backstage had the same whitewashed effect to it, appearing strangely bright compared to how it normally did. A few ponies stopped them to ask questions, but most just fumed over the ongoing situation.

Play Right turned his head to listen to one mare who was almost screaming at her two assistants. “Whoever had the gall to pull this off is going to have a lot of angry ponies on his tail.”

Coco pursed her lips, ears folded back against the shouting. “He’ll have it coming. The nerve of some ponies, to interrupt a play like this. I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

He pulled the door to the hall open for her. “I just hope they catch the guy.”

It suddenly dawned upon Coco that she was going back to the Artisan Room with the very pony she’d been kicked out to meet. Head drooping a little and face burning, Coco wondered if Notions would let them off under the circumstances. She could already see them banging on a locked door together.

Suddenly, Coco didn’t have any interest in going to the Artisan Room. Notions would take one look at them coming in together and… There had to be some way to get out of this embarrassment!

Her train of thought derailed when something tugged on her tail. She looked back to see Play Right staring past her. “What’s wrong? Is there—”

Then her head turned forward. She blinked, rubbed her eyes, looked again. The hallway… wasn’t the hallway. Or rather, it was a hallway, but not the right hallway. It stretched on for several hundred paces before stopping at a dead end, and had numerous doorways… none of which was true for where they were supposed to be.

She looked back to Play Right. “Did we go through the wrong door?”

“I guess?” He turned around and poked his head through the door. After a few seconds he looked to her with an expression as confused as she felt. “Nope, right door. I think.”

She stepped out and observed the backstage area. Sure enough, they were right where they were meant to be. Once more, she turned to examine the hallway. “Is this part of the spell?”

“Seems like a lot of powerful magic for a prank,” he muttered, following her in. “Now how do we get to the Artisan Room?”

Coco was more concerned about the possibility of getting lost. Chewing her lip, her eyes examined each of the doors. At last she moved for the closest one on the left.

“Hey, where are you going?”

“The Artisan Room should be right around here,” she replied, pausing before the door. She knocked, then sat to wait. Not a sound could be heard from behind the wood. Coco hesitated, then slowly reached for the handle. The door opened easily, and she nudged her way in.

It was a bedroom. Or, judging by the floor plan and the impeccable cleanliness, a hotel room. She stepped in and looked around at the pale furnishings. The white haze had covered everything here, too.

“What the hay?” Play Right followed her into the room, his eyes wide as he took in the sight. “Does this make any sense to you?”

Coco could only shake her head. The constant paleness was starting to unnerve her; she felt almost as though she were traversing a ghostly limbo. Slowly, she backed out of the room. “I think we should head back to the stage.” She turned for the door… and stared.

“Are you sure? Don’t you think we should—” He caught her gaze and looked back towards the stage… except the door to it was gone.

In its place was a tall wall of riveted iron plates. He stepped forward and felt at the metal with a lone hoof, eyes as big as saucers. “This can’t be just a prank.”

Coco went to stand by his side. Together they studied the new wall, seeped in their own thoughts. She examined the edges of the plates, looking for any clue about where they came from. She found none. At last, she turned to stare at the hallway.

“I… I guess we have no choice but to keep going,” she said.

“Yeah.”

The two stood side by side for a few seconds. Coco glanced at Play Right, half hoping that he would take the first step. The way that strange pallor touched everything, even the very air, made her feel dirty. She shivered and shifted a little closer to her companion. They shared a long look, and Coco could see the question in his eyes. They nodded in unison and, together, took the first step.

Their hooves clopped quietly on the floorboards yet, as the only sound available, they resounded in Coco’s ears. Seeking to hear anything else, she spoke, “I didn’t know magic like this was even possible.”

Somehow, Play Right managed to chuckle. “Clearly you’ve never been on the receiving end of a god of chaos.”

She jerked to a stop. “Y-you don’t think Discord is doing this, do you?”

He considered this before shaking his head. “Seems a little boring for him, don’t you think?”

Coco’s heart rate slowed to normal levels as she accepted that reply. “I wouldn’t know, I’ve never encountered his magic, but from what Rarity told me of him… yes, this does seem quiet.”

The actor paused mid-step, his ears perking. “Or maybe not. Listen.”

She did, turning her head and pointing one ear forward. A muffled banging could be heard somewhere ahead, along with what could only be shouts. The two immediately broke into a fast trot, Coco listening to the doors on the left while her companion checked the opposite side. The volume grew louder as they passed door after door.

“Let me out of here! If you know what’s good for you, you’ll fix this right now!”

“I know that voice,” Coco remarked as they stopped at a door just like all the others. The wood vibrated from repeated kicks, but held firm. She tried listening a little more closely—

“This isn’t funny anymore! I’m going to sue, do you hear me? Open the buck up! Let me out!”

“Oh yes,” Coco sighed, “I know that voice.” For the tiniest instance, she considered leaving the door closed.

Play Right, however, was already gripping the handle. He pulled just as another bang reverberated through the wood, resulting in the door flying open and a pony falling on top of him. Coco avoided the tangle with a simple sidestep.

Amidst her companion’s teal and yellow colors came a mess of pink coat and purple mane. Coco glowered at the rump raised high in the air before her, decorated with a cutie mark of three buttons. “Hello, Suri.”

Suri Polomare extracted her head from under Play Right’s leg, eyes wide. “Coco! What‘s the big…” Her head turned a slow arc, taking in her new surroundings. “…idea?”

“I was going to ask you the same question. How’d you wind up in…” She glanced through the door and blinked. “A broom closet?”

“I have no idea!” Suri managed to free herself from Play Right, helping him to stand. “I was heading for the auditorium's exit, and when I went through the doors I ended up in there. And now…” She turned a small circle. “Where am I?”

“We have no idea,” Play Right said, brushing himself off. “We’re lost, ourselves.”

Coco turned back to her former boss with eyebrows high and a frown adorning her face. “So you were watching the play?”

Suri winced and looked away with a blush. “Of course not. I was, um, just checking out the competition, m’kay?”

“Why does that not surprise me?” Coco considered accusing Suri of being responsible for this mess, but quickly dismissed the idea; Suri was many things, but a mage wasn’t one of them. “So… would you like to walk with us? We’re trying to get our bearings.”

Adjusting her scarf, Suri hesitated at the offer. Her lips pursed and she glared at Coco, but then her expression softened and she shook her head forcefully. After a few more seconds of hard thought, she finally nodded. “I suppose. B-but only because I want to keep an eye on you.”

Rolling her eyes, Coco nodded her acceptance. After taking a moment to introduce Suri and Play Right – and taking great strides to not paint Suri in entirely negative terms while doing so – she turned to lead the way. They continued through the hall, checking the doors that seemed to all be locked.

Frustration ate at Coco’s mind as she listened to the hoofsteps behind her. Why had Suri come to this play? ‘Checking out the competition’ did seem like something she would do. As much as Coco hated thinking the worst of ponies, she couldn’t stop herself from suspecting there was more to the pony’s attendance than that.

No. She didn’t trust Suri, but she wouldn’t make accusations or jump to conclusions. What would Rarity think? If anything, she should try to reconnect with Suri, catch up, maybe make amends. But to do that with Suri…

She’d always suspected that pony was watching her work. For three years, she’d been anticipating some act of revenge. To see Suri here at a time like this left little room for trust.

Suri’s voice broke the stillness. “So, um… Coco? Your designs. I wanted to—”

Coco’s head whipped around to level a glare at the pony. Suri stepped back, her body lowering a fraction. Neither of them said anything, and at last Coco resumed her walk.

Play Right had the good sense to keep his mouth shut.

A few more moments of silence, a few more doors checked. As they neared the end of the hallway, one door finally opened to them. Play Right entered first. “Hey, isn’t this where they store all the old costumes from past plays?”

Coco entered after him to find herself surrounded by rows upon rows of costumes ranging from simple shirts to elegant dresses. She noticed a set near the end of the row they were on and went to examine the outfits. As she suspected, they were her designs for a play last year, except pallid and bland.

Suri entered last, her head still low over the floor, but it came up quickly as she took in the large room. “This can’t be right. This room’s supposed to be two floors below the theatre.”

“And we didn’t go down any stairs,” Play Right added, walking amongst the costumes with a perplexed expression.

Burying her head in the fabric of a dress, Coco groaned. Why didn’t any of this make sense? “Why would anypony want to do something—”

The words stopped. Her mouth kept moving, but the words no longer reached her ears. Coco’s nostrils were abruptly assaulted by the smell of mildew and rot, and she jerked her head out of the dress with an unheard gag. She opened her eyes to determine the source and gaped as the dress in her hooves shriveled and deteriorated as if it were aging decades in the span of a few seconds.

Dropping the cloth, she stepped back and looked around. Alarm filled her as all the costumes mimicked the change. Bits of black, rotting cloth fell to the floor, seams snapped, the paint on buttons peeled. Every dress, every suit, every complicated creature piece fell to pieces before her eyes.

She turned to Suri, who appeared to be shouting at her. Steadily, the pale colors of the world faded into a dark gloom, and Suri’s once bright coat took on an unpleasant hue.

That was when Coco felt it; another wave of energy, but this not at all like the first. Unseen, this one knocked the air from her lungs and left her feeling weak. Something had a grip on her heart, from which it directly sucked away her energy. She saw Suri clutched at her chest and Play Right drop to his knees with a dazed expression.

And still the world grew darker, as if light itself were being drained from the room. Coco dropped to her haunches at the same time her stomach sank. Fearing she might vomit, she leaned forward and forced herself to breath slowly through her mouth. In doing so, she saw how the floorboards lost their veneer and began to rot like the costumes all around, filling her nostrils once again with the stench of mildew and decay.

She felt something on her mind, a ‘pressure’ as if her head had been set in a vice. It brought no pain, but she did grow dizzy. Worry filled her as a powerful sense of wrongness filled her mind, like something were staring into her very soul. Her skull felt as though it had been cracked open and a big, black dollop of vile was being been dropped inside, curling around the crevices of her brain and digging in with tiny, black hooks. Her lips opened to what might have been scream, only for her stomach to lurch and force her to refocus on not throwing up her lunch.

Creeping. Crawling. Chittering. Something moved through her like a swarm of insects!

Then, just as suddenly as it had come, the sensation vanished; no more pressure, no more hooks, no more skittering. She collapsed on her side and sobbed, realizing through her abrupt misery that she could hear again. The tears ceased quickly, but the questions flew through her mind at a mile a minute.

“I-is everypony alright?” Play Right’s voice was barely audible.

“What… the buck… was that?” Suri had tried to emphasize the last word, but didn’t seem to have the energy for even that.

Coco gradually righted herself, but had to pause as her stomach did another lurch. Taking slow, measured breaths, she looked up to see Suri lying stunned on her side, eyes wide and chest heaving. A slow survey found Play Right carefully standing on wobbly legs. He took a cautious step towards her, then his face turned green and he sat with a thump.

Gradually, moving in small motions to not upset her own insides, Coco pushed herself into a sitting position. “I really hope th-that doesn’t happen again.” She looked up to find that the rot and deterioration of the room remained. “What in Celestia’s name?”

Everypony kept quiet, each waiting to recover from the nausea and weakness. Coco found her legs growing stronger by the second. Her stomach, it seemed, was less durable. Just as Coco was at last able to stand without risk of making a mess, all three ponies jumped to the sound of a shriek.

“I’m getting tired of these surprises!” Suri cried over the noise.

Coco covered her ears and tried to identify the source. Her eyes settled on a decrepit looking door on the far side of the room. Play Right was already halfway there, moving at full gallop.

“Where are you going?” Suri shouted when Coco followed after him.

“To help, where do you think?” Coco winced as the screams shook the door. There was more than one pony behind it, and amidst the sounds she could also make out pleading. It grated at her ears and encouraged her to run faster, even as she questioned what she could possibly do to help.

Play Right smashed through the door, disappearing within. The shrieks only grew in volume, but Coco didn’t slow down. She flew through the door—

—and found herself in the private dressing room of Class Act. Or rather, what once was his dressing room; just like in the storage room, the walls and floor were rotting and moldy. The furniture had been shattered and lay strewn about the room without rhyme or reason.

And there, standing in the middle of the room, was a monster the likes of which Coco had never imagined in her most fevered nightmares. It stood on three legs, twice her height and probably five times her weight, appearing to be almost entirely muscle. The thing was covered in straps, belts and chains that held tight pieces of threadbare, black cloth. It had no head to speak of; only a massive, vertical mouth surrounded by folds of loose skin between the shoulders.

The source of the shrieking became apparent: Coco’s makeup specialist, a unicorn named Fine Twine, had her left hind leg completely within the thing’s mouth. She dangled upside down, forelegs flailing as she screeched. Blood ran down her body as the monstrosity suckled upon her with sounds that seemed almost vulgar.

Coco’s mind froze. She hardly registered Play Right standing stock still at her side, gawking in much the same fashion.

Suri’s words came in a shout. “What in the depths of Tartarus is that?!”

As if the cry were a trigger, Play Right jerked into motion, hurrying to grab Fine Twine’s forelegs. She clutched at him, tears streaming down her cheeks as she shrieked, “It hurts, it hurts!” The blood running down her body dripped off her muzzle as she screamed.

Coco’s horror kept her rooted to the spot. She tried to focus, to think clearly, but the screams pierced her eardrums and the blood consumed her attention. Her chest ached, her heart hammered, her legs shook.

Suri darted past her. “Don’t just stand there, help us!”

But Coco could do nothing. She took a step back, slowly shaking her head as the creature engaged in a disgusting tug of war with the two ponies over Fine Twine’s leg. The force of its pulls only led to the poor mare’s cries growing in volume.

Coco stepped in something. It almost didn’t register. Slowly, she looked down.

She’d stepped in a pool of blood. Her eyes traced it to its origin; in the corner lay a crumbled heap of what had once been a pegasus. The poor soul had no forelegs… or a head. The cutie mark of a wide-brimmed, feathered hat identified her as “Smooth Trim.”

Tears welled in Coco’s eyes. Her hind legs collapsed. Though she had no breath, she wanted to scream. Maybe she did. It was hard to tell.

There came a rip and the sound of something popping, even as Fine Twine’s screech indicated a new level of agony. Coco’s head jerked back to the scene just in time to see Play Right and Suri collapse to their backs with Fine Twine falling on top of them. Her leg was still in the monster’s mouth, ending in exposed muscle tissue, torn skin and a bone pulled directly from her hip socket. The object was sucked inside the lips an instant later. The pink mouth disappeared within the folds of skin, making nasty smacking noises as it did.

Suri and Play Right picked up the fallen unicorn and dragged her to the door, a trail of blood in their wake. Coco watched them approach in a daze, her eyes set upon Fine Twine’s sobbing, blood-and-tear streaked face.

The monster made a series of grunting and moaning sounds, its body shifting side to side. Then it reared up on its one back leg with a call somewhere between a groan and a mare’s scream, kicking its two forelegs wildly.

Coco’s slack face turned red as something long bobbed beneath the creature. Her presumption faded to a new horror as she realized it was a long, thick spike, which bent upwards at an angle about a third of the way from the tip. The ugly, rusted thing wobbled and waved at her, filling Coco with revulsion.

Then the monster hit the ground, shaking the floorboards beneath her. It was enough to remind her that she did indeed have legs, and they needed to be used right now.

Her friends were already almost to the door when she at last turned and scrambled for it. She could hear the beast’s hooves slamming the floor as it charged. The image of that hideous spike jamming through her back was enough to let her cover the distance quickly. She came alongside the others and fretted over their ponderous speed.

Play Right looked back. His face paled. “Take her.”

Coco balked as he let go of Fine Twine and rushed back to the door. “What are you doing?!”

The creature looked too big to get through the doorway. Even so, Coco watched with heart pounding as Play Right reached in to slam the door closed. He turned back to them, saw none of the mares moving. “What are you doing? Get out of—”

The door erupted in a shower of splinters, the frame failing with the snap of old wood. Coco and Suri screamed in unison, but not so loud as Play Right when the pike beneath the monster slammed into his hindquarters. The monster landed atop the pony and immediately began to thrust its hips, skewering the flailing pony even further.

For the second time, Coco was frozen. She stared, slack jawed, as the stallion flopped and squirmed under the creature’s sickening motions. Blood oozed from his mouth, which was opened in what should have been a scream. Beneath the beast’s grunting, huffing and moaning, Coco could only hear a feeble wheeze from Play Right.

Something struck Coco’s face. The sting snapped her into focus and she became aware of Suri shaking her by the shoulders.

“—of it! He’s gone! Help me!”

Coco shook her head slowly, then turned to find Suri lifting Fine Twine up by a foreleg over her shoulder. Though tears streamed down her cheeks and her mind was blank with fear, Coco forced her legs to move and took the mare's other side. The three fled the hideous sounds behind them, soon exiting the store room and returning to the long hallway. Suri went through the trouble of kicking the door closed, and the beast’s guttural, vulgar noises were stifled.

They stumbled through the hall, Fine Twine unable to do anything save hold on and weep. Coco’s mind slowly began to register what had just happened. When she looked behind them, she saw that her friend was still trailing blood. “We… We have to…” Her lips fumbled for the words. “The blood. S-Suri, the blood.”

“Yes, yes, I know.” Suri’s lips were pulled back, revealing gritted teeth. She had drops of blood across her face, which mixed with her tears. “Not here. Not yet. That thing might f-follow.”

Coco’s throat felt so dry. She swallowed, but the act didn’t help at all. She leaned her head down and whispered into Fine Twine’s ear. “It’s okay. We’ll stop the bleeding. Y-you’re going to be alright, Fine. I promise, you’ll be okay.”

Fine Twine said nothing, but she still managed to nod. Coco tried to take some relief in that.

They tried door after door. Coco focused on the work and encouraging her friend. She didn’t dare think about what they just saw, or how they’d just left Play Right to his fate. The terrible image of that creature on top of him was burned in her retina and made all the more clear whenever she closed her eyes.

But they had saved Fine Twine. They had to get her to safety, had to escape this horrible, hideous place. Play Right’s death would not be in vain.

At last, one of the doors opened.

The three mares were instantly bombarded by fresh screams.

It was the rotting remains of the Artisan Room, shrouded in gloom. Coco’s heart hit her throat at the sight of the bodies strewn about, all with hideous burns and half-melted body parts. A stallion bolted past them, screaming as he fled into the hallway.

Another monster stood in the center of the room, but this one was wholly different. It walked on four squat legs, its lower body like a round platform, atop which was a massive brown… bubble. There could be no other term for it; a wide, semi-transparent bubble containing some kind of sloshing fluid. At the top of this was the head and shoulders of something resembling a pony, but with the forelegs wrapped around the eyes in a sickening fusion of skin and muscle. The thing let out a wail, gnashing its flat teeth as it closed in on a pony trembling in the corner.

“Swift Stitch!” Coco forgot all about Fine Twine as she jumped into the room. “What are you doing? Run!”

“Coco, you can’t just—look out!”

Suri’s warning came just before something long and wet flew at Coco from the ground. She ducked as the black tentacle whipped over her head. A quick glance revealed that the thing was made of coiled hair; it was the monster’s mane.

The creature turned towards her, its teeth showing in a hideous, lipless grin. She took a step back, not knowing anything better to do.

“Oh, for buck’s sake!” Suri pushed her aside, the detached leg of a grimy ponequin in her hoof. “If you’re not going to fight back, hide somewhere!” She swung the leg up, knocking away the tentacle as it came for them again.

Coco watched as her old boss stood between her and the… thing. Just like before, her mind was struggling to catch up. Her words came out between sharp breaths, “W-what… do I… do?”

Movement caught her eye, and she turned to see Fine Twine, even with only three legs, shuffling along the wall towards Swift Stitch. Though her eyes were alight with fear, she still had another ponyquin leg floating before her. Her own hind leg continued to bleed profusely.

Seeing her friend trying to help, even with that hideous wound, kicked Coco into action. She dove behind an overturned desk and, with a few kicks to the ancient metal, managed to free one of the legs. A scream hit her ears, and she jumped from cover to see that the creature’s long, black appendage had wrapped itself around the flailing Swift Stitch.

The pony squealed as it raised her almost to the ceiling. “Coco! Please, don’t let it eat me!”

“Hey!” Suri approached with a stomp, waving her ponequin leg wildly. “Let her go, you ugly son of a—”

The fluid in the creature’s body made a gurgling sound, its head whipped back, and then it spat a large gob of ugly yellow material. Suri shouted and swatted at the stuff, knocking it away.

The ponequin leg quickly dissolved into a hissing, bubbly goop.

Suri dropped the leg with a startled cry. Coco, hearing the nasty sounds again, jumped in and jerked the pony back just as another glob flew across the room to splat against the wall. The two dived behind the overturned desk as a third wad of the acidic spit hit it. They watched as the metal melted before their very eyes.

Swift Stitch’s shrieks echoed in their heads. “No! Don’t! Help me, somepony, anypony!”

They looked up in time to see the poor mare shoved head-first into the creature’s gaping mouth. Her hind legs bucked wildly as a slimy tongue reached out to wrap around them. Her muffled screams grew desperate.

In the midst of her horror, Coco saw Fine Twine charge at the thing, screaming and banging at the bubble with all her makeshift weapon. The membrane rocked, it wobbled, it ripped.

Coco and Suri shared a wide-eyed glance, then took in the half-melted desk before them. Suri jumped out of cover. “No, don’t—”

The bubble ruptured with an ear-splitting rrrip. It’s contents splashed out, all over the attacking pony.

Fine Twine’s shriek ended in gurgling. Coco took two steps, only to be pulled back by Suri. They watched in mute terror as the squirming creature collapsed in a mess of acid and flesh, Swift Stitch still half-buried in its mouth. She kicked and emitted muffled wails upon landing in the vile stuff. Already, large patches of her hide were melting off, joining and merging with the sickly green ichor. Even the monster, its outsides not immune to its insides, thrashed in visible agony.

Coco’s legs shook, her chest heaved. She saw Fine Twine’s misshapen head turn to her, melted eyes unseeing, mouth hanging open in a piercing shriek. Her movements were sluggish, her legs mere mush. Coco heard somepony vomit. The world began to spin.

Somepony dragged her. She squirmed against the hold, panic and adrenaline combining as she screamed. Her head was so busy trying to make sense of what she’d just seen that she hardly registered her own actions. Her body grew hot. Acid. She was burning! Words slipped through her lips. She recognized just enough to realize she was begging to be woken up.

The world started to go dark.

Whack

And just like that, everything came into focus. Slowly, she reached up to touch her aching cheek. Her head turned slowly, revealing Suri nursing her own hoof. They were no longer in the Artisan Room, but somewhere else entirely; a small boiler room Coco didn’t recognize.

“I’m sorry,” Suri whispered through her gasps. “You were losing it. I… I had to snap you out of it somehow.”

Coco’s stare was blank. Then she shot to her hooves. “W-what was that? What happened? Why is this happening?!”

Suri grabbed her by the cheeks and pulled her back to the floor, shushing her. “Please, Coco, that beast is still out there!”

“Why is this happening, Suri?” Coco sobbed and wrapped her hooves around the pony, burying her head in Suri’s shoulder. “My friends, m-my crew, they’re… Celestia help us!”

“I know, I know.” Suri held her close, shaking in Coco’s embrace. “I’m sorry, Coco. I’m so sorry we c-couldn’t help them. B-but that one’s dead. It won’t hurt anypony anymore.”

They remained that way for some time, crying into each others’ shoulders and trying not to think about what they just saw. Coco couldn’t even say what it was, only that the memory kept her very close to vomiting. In time, she did, shoving herself from Suri and turning away just in time.

She kept low, knees wobbling and stomach recovering. She felt Suri rubbing her back. “It’s alright. You’ll be alright soon, m’kay?”

Coco knew they were hollow words. After what she’d just witnessed, nothing would ever be alright again. Even so, she held onto them, knowing they might be the only comfort she’d ever get. At last she felt strong enough to sit up properly. She turned to Suri and rubbed her eyes, though the tears still came.

Suri’s lips, stained in blood and flecks of vomit, twitched into a shaky smile. “Feeling better?”

No, not at all, but Coco nodded for her anyway.

Suri nodded back. “Good. We have to get out of here. Do you think you can move?”

“I c-can.” With a long intake of breath, Coco stood. Her legs didn’t shake quite so much this time. She took a look at their surroundings, pointedly avoiding looking at the mess she’d made on the floor. They were most certainly in a boiler room, the large, rusting appliance taking up an entire wall and belching little drafts of steam. Heat radiated from the thing.

Which explained why she’d felt so hot during her little episode. Feeling more than a little sheepish, she turned to apologize to Suri… and gasped. The pony still had blood speckled across her face, small bits of vomit on her chest, and acid burns in spots across her body. “Are you okay?”

Suri blinked, then looked down. With a grimace, she removed her scarf and tried rubbing away some of the mess. It worked a little, but her scarf was beyond salvation. With a sigh, she tossed it away. “Can we just go?”

Coco nodded and examined their surroundings once more. Just like every other room in this strange otherworld, the walls were falling apart from rot. The lead and iron pipes were caked with rust and the boiler rattled incessantly. There was a short stairwell on one side of the room leading to a simple metal door, but a second door was closer. With nothing to go by, Coco started for it.

“Not that one.” Suri pulled her back. “We just came through there. I don’t think either of us want to go back.”

Coco closed her eyes and shuddered at the memory of her friends being little more than a sloppy mess on the floor. The image almost made her throw up again. How much stuff did she have in her stomach?

Without a word, they made for the stairs. They were indeed short, only four steps. Neither mare was eager to open the door, so they both pressed their ears to the metal. They heard nothing. After a few seconds of consideration and mental preparation, they pushed it open. Coco’s hooves touched worn, stringy blue carpet. She walked out, jaw loose yet again as she found herself in the theatre’s front lobby.

“The floor plan of this place makes no sense at all,” Suri grumbled at her side.

“This isn’t the floor plan of the theatre,” Coco corrected. “It doesn’t even have a boiler room.”

She took in the sights, trying to understand how much had changed. For indeed, the place was different; the wallpaper was peeling, revealing moldy wood, the ticket counters were covered in dust, and the metal rails of the stairs leading to the balcony seats were bent and warped. Like every other room they’d encountered, it seemed as if the theatre had aged by centuries.

“Coco, let’s go.”

Suri was trotting for the exits. Coco’s eyes lit up at the dark sign that hung at an angle from the wall. “Yes, yes please!” She hurried to catch up, pressing her hooves to the fogged, yellow glass and pushing the door open. “I can’t wait to—”

Chaos. True, terrible, ugly chaos.

Coco and Suri stood atop the steps of the theatre, gaping as ponies fled to and fro in the streets. Monsters beyond description lumbered, rolled, screeched and generally gave chase to the citizens of Manehattan. Screams both near and distant filled the air and bodies littered the roads Coco turned her head just in time to see a driver, still attached to his wrecked carriage, sliced open by a tall, thin monster covered in scissor-like blades. She jerked her head another way to see a pair of screaming ponies being dragged through the pothole-riddled street by what could only be described as a chariot of flesh and bone.

“Get down!”

Suri tackled Coco just in time for them to avoid the grasping, thin fingers of an equine creature held aloft by dozens of fleshy, flapping… somethings and long strings of muscle. It moaned through lips sealed by blue and orange feathers piercing them like sewing needles.

Heart pounding, Coco grabbed the door to the theatre only to get dragged back by Suri. “We are not going back in there! Come on!”

Together they dashed down the steps and along the sidewalk, ignoring most of the creatures and screaming ponies around them. Coco jumped over a bloody mass – presumably once a pony – and didn’t dare look down. She looked back to see the hanging monstrosity giving chase, pulled along by the flapping folds of flesh. Its two forelegs had been tied together by what appeared to be barbed wire, the hooves fused into a single hideous claw of bone and sinew.

Coco tugged on Suri’s mane and they both fell to the ground in time to avoid the attack. She looked up to watch the thing go after some other poor pony and witnessed a sky covered in thick clouds colored a pale, greenish-yellow. “Good Goddess, is the whole of Manehattan like this?!”

Looking up proved her salvation; another monster appeared, this one falling from the overhang of the building it hung from. She jerked back just in time and watched as the teardrop-shaped thing reached for her with long, slender, multi-elbowed arms. By sheer good fortune, she’d stepped beyond its reach; it hit the cracked sidewalk with a sickening crunch and didn’t move.

“This way!” Suri pointed, and the two ran for an alleyway too thin for many of the monstrosities to follow. Once safely hidden behind a dumpster, they paused to collect themselves.

Coco dared to peer out, just in time to see another of those hideous chariots roll by in the street. Screams continued to fill the air. “W-what’s going on?”

“We’re in Tartarus,” Suri whispered. “We must be.”

“But why? What have we done to deserve this?” Coco leaned against the wall and rubbed her face with both hooves. They felt so heavy, and eyes drooped from exhaustion.

They were quiet for a short time. Suri, her head hanging low, finally spoke. “I don’t know about you, but I’m guilty of a lot.” She groaned and covered her face in her forelegs. “Oh, Celestia, please tell me I didn’t drag you down with me.”

The pain in her voice caught Coco’s attention. She took another look around to make sure nothing was coming for them before turning to her companion. “Suri, what do you mean?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Suri rested the back of her head against the dumpster, tears forming rivers on her face. “W-what if we really are dead? What if this really is Tartarus? Maybe that first spell killed us. Coco… why would you be here unless I’d dragged you down?”

Coco gaped at the pony for some time. “S-Suri… you haven’t done anything worthy of that.”

“Haven’t I?” Suri huffed a frail laugh. “I’m the worst kind of pony. You think how I treated you was the worst of it? You don’t have any idea what I’ve done in the past few years.”

“But surely it wasn’t enough to warrant this!” At her own outburst, Coco slapped a hoof across her muzzle and looked to the street. Nothing approached. In fact, she didn’t see anything at all. The screams had quieted down significantly.

“I don’t know. Maybe it is.” Suri groaned as she climbed to her hooves. “But for whatever reason, we’re here in this… this hell. But you won’t be, not for long.”

Coco tried to push her back down. “We need to rest. We can’t go back out there.”

“No.” Suri refused to go down, her expression scrunching up with her renewed determination. “I’m getting you out of here, Coco.”

As she walked to the edge of the dumpster to look around, Coco stared at the pony. She thought on her excuse for being here, of her words just now. The whole situation seemed… off, and that was without the nightmarish creatures.

“Suri… Why did you come to the theatre today?”

Suri tensed. Her tail swished a few times and she wouldn’t look back. “I told you, I was scoping out the competition.” Her gaze shifted to the street. “It’s gotten awfully quiet out there.”

Studying Suri, Coco stood. “I don’t believe you, Suri.”

Licking her lips and fidgeting, Suri flopped her ear towards the street. “No, really, just listen.”

“No, I mean I don’t think that’s why you came.”

The only reply she got was a single stomp before Suri turned and headed for the street. With a heavy sigh, Coco followed. She tried to think of what to say. After all, Suri had saved her life a few times already. If she were completely honest with herself, she’d admit that she never would have expected the mare to risk her own hide for anypony else’s, especially Coco’s.

They were almost to the street when Coco blurted out, “Where you trying to meet me, Suri?”

“No!” Just at the sidewalk, the mare turned on Coco with a growl. “No, I was absolutely not seeking your forgiveness! I didn’t come here after three years to rediscover my talent, I didn’t spend all that time struggling with no work and I don’t in any way feel guilty!” Fresh tears formed in her eyes as her words grew in volume. “It’s not my fault! I do blame you! So I was a mean-spirited wench, what of it? It’s not like I've been lying awake at night staring at the ceiling and thinking about the day you quit and ruined my career because I’m a talentless sham!”

A shadow formed over her. Coco barely noticed.

“I hate you, Coco! I hate everything about you! You weren’t right, do you hear me? You weren’t, weren’t, weren’t!” She stomped her hooves and snarled, the tears flowing freely now. “You and that high and mighty mare, Rarity! Just because both of you are successful, you think that makes you right? Hah! I don’t want to be your friend, I don’t want your forgiveness, and I don’t want your help!”

She sagged to the ground, sobbing and covering her face. “I don’t. I d-don’t. I can make it, I c-can. I just need one m-more chance…”

Coco gaped at the pony for some time, listening to her quiet weeping. She knew she needed to say something, but—

Cli-click, cli-click, cli-click.

Her breath caught in her throat as the thing came around the corner. It had the long body of a pony, but appeared to be made of hastily-stitched pieces of flesh that stretched taut around its muscles. Instead of pony legs, it had hundreds of short, thin blade-like protrusions, not unlike sewing needles, that clicked across the ground like the legs of a centipede. It possessed two short arms seemingly made of cotton thread wrapped about in thick cords, the fleshy carapace stretching out along the elbows. Thick twine connected the multi-hued flesh covering its body, and held in place a trio of long, scissor-blade fingers on each arm.

But what most caught Coco’s attention was the creature’s head. It rose high over the body on a ghastly, thin neck. Shaped like a pony, its head was covered in a single piece of pink skin that was stretched taut by the threads from the neck. This had the effect of making its eyes permanently wide open, staring down at them with familiar, light brown eyes.

“Suri!”

Suri looked up, saw Coco’s expression and turned around—

—just in time for a couple of those long blades to pierce her throat.

Coco could only watch, the shaking back in her legs, as the creature lifted Suri up by the claws in her throat. The pony hung limply, a quiet hissing and gurgling coming from her mouth as her legs spasmed. Coco barely noticed the fresh rip in the monster’s own neck, blood seeping down to its tortured chest. It offered no sound, other than the faint cli-clicks of its many legs.

Then the thing reared back, exposing its long belly. Nearly a dozen claws burst outwards from a long pocket in its belly. Coco felt blood splash across her face as her former enemy began to be sliced into literal ribbons. More cuts and gaps appeared in the monster’s body as it worked on the still wheezing pony. Its many appendages began sewing the strips onto itself, covering the new wounds as they appeared, adding her pink hide to its already hideously colored menagerie of outer flesh.

Coco felt her legs collapse from under her. She lay on the ground and struggled to breathe, but the air wouldn’t come. Deep in the recesses of her mind, she screamed at herself to flee.

She couldn’t. Her body wouldn’t respond. Another voice, far stronger, far more insistent, told her that running wouldn’t matter.

She was going to die no matter what she did.

Author's Notes:

This chapter subtly hints at a few things that are going on, but it will be impossible for readers to recognize those things at this point. Many of the monsters (hopefully all) we saw here will be revisited later, most likely in more detail. The monsters designs are part of the major shift from the Silent Hill franchise in terms of their meaning and purpose. They are a reflection of something, but what they are a reflection of will have to be revealed in-story.

Also, I forgot to mention last chapter that this story has a theme song: