Feathery sat up from her work and wiped her forehead. Sweetie Belle watched as she stood and very carefully started an ancient-looking phonograph at its lowest RPM and clumsily set the needle. This phonograph, though the twin of the one in Sweetie Belle’s room, had not aged well. It had been used continuously for many years, and it had been damaged and dented while its sibling remained unnaturally perfect.

The record began to play. It was a waltz in a style that had not been popular in decades, and it was apparent that the record had been badly damaged by many seasons of frost and heat in the uncontrolled environment of the castle’s old section. It was scratchy and distorted, and made even more strange by the odd slowness of the record.

“We have about thirty minutes,” said Feathery as she checked the wires leading away from the phonograph. She then picked up a crossbow from below her and set a bolt. Sweetie Belle took a step back.

“I’m not going to hurt you, idiot,” said Snipper. “If I wanted to do that, you would be dead by now.”

“But then why are you doing this?” said Sweetie Belle.

Snipper seemed to glare at her, and then pointed at the large corkboard not far from her, the one covered in notes written in an indecipherable language. “Do you know what that is?” she asked.

“No.”

“Of course not. Because you never bothered to learn other languages, did you? They’re names.”

Sweetie Belle looked at the board. “Names?”

“Servants. Sometimes guests. All of them white ponies, none of them unicorns. They’re all gone now. All of them…”

Sweetie Belle shivered. “Where?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t want to. I didn’t ask. But…” She paused, and then looked at Sweetie Belle with far more fearful eyes than she had shown before, “there are bones. In the garden. I’ve found so many skeletons. Hundreds. Thousands, even, going back centuries I think. Some were children. They were all dead.” She shook her head and hefted her crossbow, and then began walking toward the door. Sweetie Belle- -although she was not sure why- -began to follow.

“And I still didn’t ask,” muttered Feathery. “I just wanted to do my job, and not get involved. So I kept quiet and let it continue. But now she took him…”

“Then we have to save him!” cried Sweetie Belle. “We have to save all of them! Silver, Muguet, my sister- -”

Feathery turned suddenly. “It’s too late,” she said. “She took them to the Tower. I don’t know what she does up there, but no pony who has gone up there has ever come back.”

Sweetie Belle’s eyes widened. “N- -no!” she protested, “my sister, Muguet- -”

“I couldn’t save them. I’m sorry. But I can save you.”

Sweetie Belle paused. “But why me? You hate me?”

Feathery seemed to think for a moment. Not about her response, but if she wanted to reveal her motivation. “Because you look like him,” she said at last. She turned toward the exit, holding her crossbow under one wing. “Maybe if you survive this, I won’t see his face in my dreams. Then I’ll be able to finally rest in peace.”

Slowly, Rarity descended the wide spiraling stone staircase, walking in step with Fleur. She was in a strange daze, as though none of this was real. Logically, she knew that this was real, but somehow she still felt as though it were a dream. The world seemed to have the same sense that she was not really there, but somehow watching herself from elsewhere.

In this state of confusion, Rarity directed her attention toward the walls. The staircase descended around between two walls, and the faceted inner column was decorated by a number of paintings. Each one showed images of Fleur and her mother, although they were different and far more disturbing than the images that Fleur maintained in the newer part of her home.

In these paintings and photographs, Fleur and her mother were often locked in close embraces that no mother and daughter should ever share, posing as though they were lovers in strange scenes of nature and of noble splendor. In each one, their perfect white bodies were displayed- -sometimes quite intimately- -and Rarity could not help but feel her heart beat faster when she saw them. Two perfect, ageless mares. She thought that they were both so beautiful.

“You like them, I see,” said Fleur, smiling. She paused too, looking at a painting of her as a young mare holding her mother in the most suggestive possible way while they seemed to be sitting in water in an otherwise dark scene. She sighed. “I loved my mother. More dearly than any pony, save for Fancy Pants and, eventually, you. Had she been a stallion, I would have borne our heirs as a child. But that is not the way these things worth. It only passes from mare to mare, as does our secret. From my mother from me, from me to you, and from us to our children in time.”

“Our children…” Rarity stared at the painting for a moment longer, then turned to Fleur, feeling as though she was moving in slow motion. “But…where is she? The blood, it keeps you young forever. Why is she not still with us?”

Fleur frowned, but did not look away from the painting. “The blood makes us ageless, but it comes at a high price. We are not undying. The moment we first perform the ritual, we seal our fate.” She turned toward Rarity. “But your sister will set us free. My mother was young for two hundred years, but died. You and I never will.”

They started walking again, and Rarity began to feel a pang of some sort of deeply negative but also profoundly distant emotion.

“So,” she said, “we just need to take some of her blood? Just a little? It won’t be any different from going to the doctor, then. I’m sure she’ll be happy to help us.”

“No,” said Fleur. “It does not work like that. It has to be vital blood, that which escapes a pony in her last moments before death. Lifeblood. Anything else is worthless.”

“You mean…”

Fleur, still looking only ahead, nodded. “The process is by definition fatal. Sweetie Belle will not survive. She can’t.”

“I…I can’t do that,” said Rarity, stopping. “Fleur, I can’t! She’s my sister!”

Fleur stopped as well, and then put her hoof around Rarity’s shoulder. She leaned forward and kissed Rarity softly. “I know it will be hard,” she said. “And if there was another way...if only it were possible for us to simply trade ours, and live forever that way…but it’s not. This is the only way for us to survive, and be beautiful and young forever.”

“Forever,” repeated Rarity, her mind still struggling to grasp the concept of never having to age. Somehow, she felt herself start walking again, being pulled by her intense admiration and infatuation for Fleur. She followed, and tried her best not to question what was going on.

“Slow down!” cried Sweetie Belle, trying to keep up with Feathery but doing extremely poorly. Feathery was in her fifties, but somehow more physically fit than Sweetie Belle had been in her entire life. Sweetie Belle supposed it was a Pegasus thing, as she had empirically observed that Scootaloo was quite firm.

“Seventeen minutes,” said Feathery, refusing to aquiese to Sweetie Belle’s demand. “That’s how much time we have. Do you want to be in her when time runs out?”

“Well- -there has to be a shorter way!”

“There is. We can jump five stories out the windows. You can fly, right?”

“No, but you can!”

“I’d have to leave you behind. I’m not strong enough to carry you down.”

“Why the hay not?!”

“Because unicorn guards like to target spells on your wings, if they can, and those wounds don’t heal properly ever. The only way to get you out of here is the long way.”

“But why does it have to be so- -long?!”

“It’s why I tried to keep you out of the old-section. Half of it is collapsing, and the rest is purposefully designed like a maze!”

“Why would anypony purposefully make a MAZE?!”

“For contingencies like this,” said a perfect, aristocratically accented voice.

Sweetie Belle froze, and, luckily, Feathery stopped as well. Sweetie Belle did not think she could have run if she had tried. Something about the way that voice sounded had trapped her by fear. She did not know why, but she understood that something very bad was about to happen.

Fleur rounded the corner of the long, curving hallway, and her eyes immediately shot to Sweetie Belle. Sweetie Belle felt her breath catch; she had never before seen eyes so hungry, and so cold.

What Sweetie Belle noticed more than Fleur’s eyes, though, was that Rarity was beside her.

“Rarity!” cried Sweetie Belle, rushing forward. Rarity, though, did not turn her head to look at Sweetie Belle. She just kept looking away, a pained expression on her face.

Feathery reached out and stopped Sweetie Belle, holding her back. She also drew the crossbow and pointed it at Fleur’s chest. Fleur immediately stopped walking, but seemed far more amused than afraid. “Feathery,” she said, calmly. “Step out of my way.”

“No,” said Feathery. She turned her head toward Sweetie Belle, but did not take her eyes off Fleur. “Sweetie Belle! Run!”

“I…I can’t…I can’t leave Rarity! She’s still alive!”

“Why would I hurt Rarity?” asked Fleur, sounding offended. “I love Rarity dearly. And I intend to give her the greatest gift I can bestow. But to do that I need you, Sweetie Belle.” She looked down at Feathery, and taking her eyes off of Sweetie Belle seemed to be almost painful. “Now. Feathery. I will not repeat myself. Step. ASIDE.”

“Silver,” she said, her crossbow suddenly shaking. “You…you…”

“Killed him, yes,” sighed Fleur, sounding board. “As I had intended to since the moment I hired him.”

Feathery had already known, but the confirmation was almost too much for her. Her face contorted in rage, but tears fell down her face and onto her weapon. “You monster!”

“Monster? How dare you, Feathery. After everything I have done for you? Look at me. I am so very beautiful. Could this be the face of a monster? What cost is too great to maintain this?” Her expression changed to a more sinister smile. “Besides. He’s far better off this way. Now he won’t have to gag every time he has to lay a hoof on a hideous hag like yourself.” She paused, as if pretending to consider. “My only regret is that I did not take him when I had the chance, like I did your brother.” She shrugged. “But I am due to be married soon, so that would be inappropriate. You would not understand.”

For a moment, Sweetie Belle thought that Feathery was going to pull the trigger, but Feathery hesitated. She instead turned to Rarity. “Traitor!” she cried. “She’s your own sister! Don’t let this monster do this to her! Don’t listen!”

Rarity looked as though she was about to cry, and almost looked at Sweetie Belle. “Eternal beauty,” she said, softly. “Sweetie Belle, I’m sorry…I’m sorry…”

“Rarity is in agreement with me,” said Fleur. “As I’m sure you would be, and Sweetie Belle would be too, had I time to explain this to her. But I don’t. She’s just so beautiful. So young, so innocent. I need her. I need her NOW.”

“If you want her, you have to go through me.”

Fleur raised one pink eyebrow. “Really? Of all the times to grow a spine, you do it now? Feathery, don’t do this. Put down the bow. Step away. Go tend your garden. I do not want to fight you.”

“Because you know you would lose.”

“No. Because in my absence you have become far too overripe. Your blood would give me at best minutes of youth. I have no need for it.”

“And if I shoot? You’re an inbred abomination. Mothers and sons, brothers and sisters…one blow, and you will bleed to death.”

Fleur smiled. “Bleeding is what I do.”

Feathery was done hesitating. She pulled the trigger of the crossbow. The bolt shot forward- -but stopped after just an inch as the entire assembly was frozen in a plume of blue-red light that matched the glow that had appeared around Fleur’s horn.

“You will find,” said Fleur, suddenly frowning, “that I am much more difficult to slay than a wounded, outbred child.”

Sweetie Belle felt the air suddenly ionize, and she saw a thin thread of red magic emerge from Fleur’s horn. It was almost imperceptible, but Sweetie Belle instantly understood the nature of the spell. Before she could warn Feathery, though, the thread swept across the room. Feathery screamed in agony, and the crossbow dropped to the floor- -along with her forelegs.

Arterial blood sprayed out from the wound, drenching both Fleur and Rarity. Rarity screamed in disgust, but Fleur tilted her head back, moaning in pleasure as her white coat was stained red. “I suppose it is for the best,” she said, the thread suddenly hardening into a long red spike. “You are so old, and you disgust me.”

Before Feathery could react, the magical spike shot forward, penetrating through her chest and out her back. Feathery’s eyes widened in shock and pain as her aorta ruptured, and then she slowly closed her eyes. “Silver,” she said.

Fleur shifted her horn and jerked the spell out, bringing it up through Feathery’s neck and skull, slicing them in half. A torrent of blood rushed out, and what was left of Feathery slumped forward into the rapidly growing pool

Rarity was now moaning and shaking in horror, but Fleur seemed barely to have noticed that she had just murdered a mare. In fact, she looked rather disappointed.

“Just as I suspected,” she sighed. “She was too old. Perhaps if I had bought her a stallion earlier, I could have bred her. Children work so much better.” She shrugged. “Not that it matters now. I won’t need inferior ponies like her anymore.”

She leaned forward, and Sweetie Belle tried to take a step back, only to find herself paralyzed with fear. Fleur’s magic surrounded herself and Rarity, driving away the stains of blood and returning both of their coats to brilliant white.

“It won’t hurt,” said Fleur, speaking as calmly and gently as she had when Sweetie Belle and Rarity had first arrived in her home. “Some of us hold the ancient belief that suffering improves the quality of the blood, but I have never bothered. And to inflict that on such a beautiful little girl…it would not do. You will just feel a little cut, and then you will start to get sleepy.” Fleur paused. “Perhaps I will have paintings commissioned of you? Yes. You will be given a place of honor, I think. Through your death, the De’Lis will reign eternal.”

Sweetie Belle looked up at Fleur, and realized that there was no escape. Her end had come. Instead, she leaned to one side, looking past Fleur and toward her sister. For the first time, Rarity looked back and their eyes met.

“Rarity,” said Sweetie Belle. She did not say anything else. From the look on Rarity’s face, the tone and emotion of that one word had conveyed exactly what Sweetie Belle needed it to. It had been meant as a goodbye to the pony she loved most in the world.

Fleur lowered her horn, charging it with light that had now become almost entirely red. Her yellow eyes glistened, and she smiled a toothy grin as a thread of magic descended from the tip of her horn, writing in the air as it moved.

Then there was a mechanical thud, and Fleur was knocked to the side, her spell failing in the process. She let out a ladylike cry, and then looked down. When she saw the crossbow bolt imbedded in her shoulder, her eyes widened in horror and betrayal. She then looked up at the crossbow, which was hovering in Rarity’s blue-colored magic.

“Rarity,” she gasped. “W…why?”

“I can’t let you hurt my Sweetie Belle,” said Rarity. “I’m sorry Fleur. I love you too…but I just can’t.”

Rarity threw the crossbow down in disgust and then stood, running and jumping over Feathery Snipper’s body. She grabbed Sweetie Bell and started pushing her. Sweetie Belle began to feel the trance of fear breaking, and she felt her legs finally moving.

“We have to go,” said Rarity. “Sweetie Belle, we have to- -”

“Rarity!” called Fleur, causing the two smaller unicorns to suddenly stop. Rarity turned toward Fleur, who appeared to barely notice the bolt in her leg or the silver that was beginning to trickle from the wound. “If you do this, you are killing the entire De’Lis bloodline. Their blood keeps me young externally, but I’m still seventy years old inside. I waited too long. Without Sweetie Belle’s blood, I will not be able to bear foals. The De’Lis bloodline will end with me. Please, Rarity, please! Don’t let me be the last!”

“Fleur,” said Rarity, suddenly regretting her decision.

“Don’t listen!” said Sweetie Belle, pulling on Rarity with her magic. Fleur’s expression of pleading suddenly turned to one of absolute hatred, and she struck out at Sweetie Belle. Sweetie Belle barely managed to summon a shield spell in time, and it shattered audibly in response to the attack. This snapped Rarity out of her indecision, and she pushed Sweetie Belle forward. Within seconds, they were both fleeing.

Fleur watched them go, and then attempted to take a step forward. Her front leg locked; the crossbow bolt had penetrated her shoulder joint. She ignited her magic and tore out the bolt, causing a torrent of silver fluid to follow it. Then she started walking.

It would not be hard to track them. Every bit of food that Rarity had eaten and every drop of pony wine she had been given had been laced with anticoagulants. All Fleur had to do was follow the ever-expanding trail of silver fluid that was still dripping uncontrollably from the cut in Rarity’s front leg.

Sweetie Belle tried to run, but without Feathery Snipper, it was impossible to navigate the old section of the castle. The structure really was like a maze, and she got lost quickly, finding herself going in circles, all the while thinking that she could hear Fleur’s slow, evenly paced hoofsteps behind her. Except that was impossible. Fleur moved in complete silence- -and she knew every inch of this place. As the minutes began to tick down and as Sweetie Belle still found herself only getting deeper and deeper into the convoluted structure, she started to panic, wondering if she would find her way out in time.

As it turned out, she was not able to. After several minutes of running, she found herself back in Feathery’s museum. Not knowing what else to do, she threw the doors open in a panic and nearly threw Rarity in. She then tried to barricade the door with whatever she could reach quickly, which was not much at all.

The phonograph was still playing, if slowly. The sound quality had not improved, but the song had begun to accelerate. The tune was nearing its end, and Sweetie Belle knew that if she and Rarity did not get out before it did, they would both end up like Feathery Snipper had- -if not worse.

Rarity almost immediately collapsed onto the floor, gasping. She looked extremely pale, and to Sweetie Belle’s horror she realized that her sister’s hoof had been sliced. Normally, it would have been a wound requiring immediate attention, but now it was bleeding profusely. Running through the dark corridors, Sweetie Belle had not noticed the trail of silver that Rarity was leaving behind, the same one that now led to the door of the old ballroom.

“Oh crap, oh crap,” she said, trying to turn her sister over. “Rarity, you’re bleeding!”

“They’re dead,” said Rarity, hurriedly but in a seemingly delirious state. “Oh Celestia, they’re all dead! She killed them! The blood…the blood!” She lifted her bleeding hoof to Sweetie Belle’s face. “I’m- -I’m sorry! Please forgive me, I- -I’m sorry…” Rarity then collapsed back to the dirty floor, getting her coat dusty and stained in a way that she never would if she had been healthy. She was still conscious, but Sweetie Belle could tell that she had lost a great deal of blood.

“Hold on,” said Sweetie Belle, trying to stay calm even though she was on the verge of panicking. “Rarity, I’m going to try something, but it’s going to hurt a lot. Okay?”

Rarity did not respond, and Sweetie Belle took that as a ‘yes’. She charged her horn, concentrating all of her magic into it and then into a single point. She then lifted Rarity’s hoof and, with all of her strength, directed a beam at the wound.

The spell was not unlike the one that Fleur had used to murder Feathery, but unlike Fleur, Sweetie Belle was barely above a novice at using magic. Instead of a complicated cutting spell, she got one that only produced extreme heat. The blood on Rarity’s skin hissed and popped as Sweetie Belle cauterized the wound.

Rarity moaned and weakly tried to pull her hoof away. That was a bad sign. Sweetie Belle had just burned her with an injury that would leave her with a permanent scar. It should have at least sent her into screams of pain- -much weaker versions of the spell often had that effect on Scootaloo- -and then caused her to fret about the potential effect on her physical perfection. Instead, she could barely manage more than a mutter.

“There,” said Sweetie Belle, breathing hard from the exertion of the spell. “That should work for now, but we have to get out of here! Can you stand?”

Rarity looked up at Sweetie Belle and nodded weakly. She stood, wobbling as she did, and Sweetie Belle supported her.

“But where,” said Rarity. “Where do we go?”

Sweetie Belle did not know. She looked back at the door, knowing that Fleur would not be far behind, and that she had neither the advantage of time nor of understanding the castle’s layout. They could not go that way.

Then Sweetie Belle’s heart felt as though it nearly stopped. Her head darted to one side, where she had thought she had seen a tall white shape. Instead of Fleur, though, she saw an empty corner of the room that seemed to have been under construction many decades ago. A rickety scaffold had been left behind, leading up to high ledge and the unfinished carvings that somepony had been assembling there. Sweetie Belle suddenly broke into nervous laughter as she realized what she was seeing: it was the ledge that Muguet had flown her two when they had been pursued by Feathery Snipper. It was not obvious from the lower floor, but there was a small passage out up there.

Sweetie Belle and Rarity immediately began to make their way toward the scaffold. Rarity could not move quickly, and this only made Sweetie Belle more apprehensive. For a moment, she considered stopping the phonograph, and taking the needle off, but now she knew what Feathery had always understood. It needed to play. If they had any hope of making it out, the song had to reach its completion.

Fleur was not capable of moving quickly. Her shoulder joint had been destroyed. Worse, she could not stop the bleeding. A substantial part of it was spilling out of the wound and dripping down her leg, joining the pools and smears of Rarity’s blood on the floor as she followed it toward its owner.

The only thing that kept Fleur standing was the aftereffects of the blood ritual, and pure willpower. The former was beginning to fail, but the latter was growing stronger as she felt herself growing closer and closer to her ultimate goal. The scent of Rarity’s blood mixing with her own was intoxicating, but there was another smell beneath it. It was the smell of Sweetie Belle. The scent of her and her pure, innocent white-unicorn blood was almost maddening. Fleur wanted to cut her so badly, to take what rightfully should belong to her. She was the most beautiful pony in Equestria, after all, and it was her right to maintain that state for all eternity.

“Sweetie Belle,” she called, feeling shocked at how weak her voice sounded. “Rarity? Please, come out. I can’t run. I’m bleeding, Rarity. I’m hurt. Badly. I need your help. Please help me?”

There was no response, and Fleur felt an odd pang of sadness. She had truly thought that her best friend would understand, and the betrayal of being abandoned in her time of need was cutting. As much as it hurt, though, she knew that she would forgive Rarity. She had to; she had not been lying when she had proclaimed her love to the younger pony.

In a way, she supposed it made sense. All of her own sisters had been stillborn, but having to harvest another pony close to her- -like her mother, or Fancy Pants- -would be so difficult to her. Rarity just needed help to understand. It would be so much easier for her to take the blood once Sweetie Belle’s head had been removed. She would understand when Sweetie Belle was dead.

The blood-trail led to a closed door. Fleur did not even bother to open it. She just tore through it with her magic. This process was violent, but not without elegance. There was no sound as the pieces were torn free of their hinges with ease, and although they were thrown backward Fleur was careful to set them down gracefully. This was still her house, after all, and she did expect to renovate this section for her children’s sake.

“Rarity? Sweetie Belle?” Fleur stepped in, following the blood only to find that it suddenly stopped. There was a slight smell in the air as well: burned pony hair and cooked blood. Fleur frowned. “Clever girl,” she said, knowing fully well that she could not attempt the same spell without risking a hideous permanent scar.

It was then that Fleur noticed a strange tune wafting through the air. The music was slow and earie, but she did recall the tune. She had danced to it many times at various functions and parties just after the Great War, back when her youth was still true instead of maintained by bloodshed. The song was by no means fashionable anymore, of course, and the record had clearly decayed in fifty years, but Fleur still had strong feelings for that song. It had been to that song so long ago that she had first danced with Fancy Pants, although at the time she had not at all known that their meeting would lead to marriage half a century later.

Curious, Fleur walked through the various junk that she had allowed Feathery Snipper to accumulate. Some of it was useful, and some of it carried strong memories, but all of it made Fleur feel terrible. She had remembered when most of these things were still new, and seeing them so old and decrepit reminded her of her advanced age.

The phonograph had been set up beside a large, unfinished portrait. Fleur looked at it, for a moment not recalling why she was in it, but then smiled. She remembered when it had been started, and she remembered the son she had given birth to so long ago, even if she could not recall his name. It did not matter, though. He had been born the correct color, but the wrong race.

Fleur then turned to the phonograph itself. The song was coming to its conclusion, and Fleur looked down at the machine, momentarily confused as to why it had been connected to so many wires and to a pair of old batteries. Her eyes slowly followed the wires, and then widened as she realized what they led to: they led into an open panel into the hull of a decayed eighty-pound Pegasus-borne incendiary bomb, the same time that had nearly destroyed this castle and the surrounding villages when Fleur had just been a little filly.

The final notes of the song came, and it suddenly ended. The music stopped, and there was only the sudden scratch of the needle sliding across the record. Fleur watched it as it passed over the edge of the record, falling against a metal plate that had been haphazardly placed to the side of the turntable. There was a spark from the needle as it struck the plate and completed the circuit.

Fleur’s horn immediately ignited with crimson light as she put all of her remaining magical energy into a shield spell, encasing herself in scarlet bubble as the bomb detonated mere feet away from her.

The blast was intense, to the point where Sweetie Belle was knocked to her knees even at a considerable distance. Feathery Snipper’s device had worked, and if Sweetie Belle and Rarity were lucky, Fleur had been killed in the blast, as Feathery had likely intended. What Feathery had not anticipated, though, was the sudden secondary blast that rumbled low through the castle.

From the end of one of the halls, Sweetie Belle suddenly saw a flash of orange light, and as the house shook she smelled something unpleasant that she quickly realized was gas. The bomb itself had been powerful enough to devastate the old section, but it had also had the alternative effect of damaging the largely unmaintained gas lines that ran throughout both sections of the castle to provide light.

“Rarity, we have to go,” said Sweetie Belle, pulling her sister forward.

“What was that explosion?” said Rarity. Her eyes widened. “Fleur? Where- -where is Fleur?”

“She’s gone,” said Sweetie Belle.

“And the others…”

“We can’t go back for them.” Sweetie Belle felt her eyes watering. In all the fear and panic, she had not had a chance to think about what had happened to Muguet. She did not know exactly what had occurred, but inside, she was sure that she would never see her friend again. Now, it was only her and Rarity.

They rushed forward, only to be interrupted as the weak ceaing in front of them gave way. There was a blast of heat as burning debris fell through, and Sweetie Belle barely managed to avoid a sudden plume of ignited gas from a broken line above.

Rarity screamed and pulled her sister back, saving her from being burned alive. Sweetie Belle, though singed, immediately turned the other way. “This way!” she cried. “I think I know a way around!”

“You THINK?!”

Sweetie Belle ignored her sister’s protest- -and her own doubts- -and forged ahead. The area around them was beginning to feel extremely warm, and now instead of gas Sweetie Belle could smell smoke. A few side pathways were already burning, and several floors had given way, knocked free from their decaying attachment points by the blast.

Even then, though, Sweetie Belle quickly begame lost. She stopped at an intersection, choking on smoke. One side of the hall was completely engulfed in flames, and Sweetie Belle had no idea where she was or if she was even going in the right direction.

“Which way?!” cried Rarity.

“I don’t- -I don’t- -”

“This way,” said a voice. Sweetie Belle turned sharply toward a smaller side-hall. The voice had been clear, and as she stared she found herself looking into a pair of gray, dead eyes belonging to a tall and gaunt unicorn. He only returned her stare for a moment before continuing down the path ahead of them.

Sweetie Belle paused for a moment, not sure about the correct course of action. There was no other choice, though. “This way!” she said, pulling Rarity along with her.

They quickly reached the end of the hall, but the unicorn was not there. Sweetie Belle did, however, see his flank as he passed down an almost unnoticeable stone intersection nearly forty feet away. Sweetie Belle pulled Rarity forward, with both of them choking on the smoke as they went.

Sweetie Belle suddenly stopped, and found that the white stallion had gone down a set of stairs. She descended, finding that the air was clearer.

“Sweetie Belle, this isn’t the way!” said Rarity. “It’s a dead end!”

“No it isn’t!”

Sweetie Belle immediately doubted herself, though, when the staircase did indeed lead to nothing more than a stone wall.

“To your left,” said the white unicorn, suddenly appearing beside Rarity. Sweetie Belle looked up at him, and saw the look on Rarity’s face, not at his presence but at her behavior. She could not see him.

Sweetie Belle did turn to her left, and suddenly realized that he was correct. A door had been placed there, and it had been built with a façade of stone that made it difficult to see in the low light.

“Help me push this!” said Sweetie Belle, throwing herself against the door.

“Sweetie Belle…I can’t…” Rarity suddenly dropped to her knees.

“Rarity!”

“I’m just so…tired. I need to sleep. Just…just for a few minutes. The air is clear…here…”

She suddenly collapsed, unconscious.

“No! Rarity, not now!”

With a sudden surge of adrenaline, Sweetie Belle was able to push open the door. Smoky, hot air rushed in, but the path was clear, and Sweetie Belle recognized it as one of the ones that led back to the new section of the castle.

Summoning all her strength, the pushed herself under Rarity and picked her sister up. It was not easy; her body had become floppy and limp, and she was much heavier than Sweetie Belle had expected.

“Sweet Celestia, Rarity,” swore Sweetie Belle. “No wonder none of your dresses fit!”

With great difficulty, she pushed forward. The distance to safety was far, though, and she was not sure she could make it.

By the time Sweetie Belle had reached the new section, it had already ignited. Much of it was burning as well, and a great deal of it seemed to have been badly damaged in the gas explosion as the pipes had ruptured. A great deal of the area was impasible, but Sweetie Belle knew the layout a little better.

Unfortunately, she was beginning to weaken. A combination of the smoke inhalation and her anticoagulant poisoning was driving her ever closer to unconsciousness. She tried to fight it, knowing that if she passed out, both her and her sister would die, but her vision began to fade, and her legs began to grow weak. Eventually, she just collapsed.

The floor felt cold, and it really did feel comfortable. Sweetie Belle understood why Rarity had wanted to sleep, because she did too. It would not be hard to, and she only needed to close her eyes for a few minutes.

“No,” said a voice. Sweetie Belle looked up into the flames before her. The white unicorn was standing within them, but he did not burn. In fact, they only seemed to make his white coat glow brighter. “It is not your destiny to die here, Sweetie Belle. Not here, and not now.”

“But I can’t,” she said. “Why won’t you help me!”

He did not answer, but his dead eyes drifted to Rarity. “Leave her,” he said.

“Leave her- -NO! I can’t do that!”

“If you take her through this building, you will be killed. This element of fate is not in dispute.”

“I don’t care!” Sweetie Belle stood up, and put Rarity on her back. Her legs were shaking, and blood was now pouring from her mouth and nose. “She’s my sister, I’m not going to leave her!”

The pale horse stared at her for a moment. “So be it,” he said.

He stepped backward into the flames and seemed to vanish, as though he were consumed by them. His smell lingered, though. Even though the smoke and fire, Sweetie Belle could smell the scent of lilies.

The house suddenly shifted, and part of it collapsed. As one floor fell into the lower, though, Sweetie Belle saw the path to a long set of windows as it cleared. That was the way out, and with a surge of hope, she pushed forward toward them.

The urge to sleep was strong, and Sweetie Belle felt her vision fading out long before she reached the windows. Still, she persisted, and somehow made it to them. They did not open, and she was forced to smash one with her magic. Then, with the last of her strength, she threw both herself and Rarity out the window, not caring how far the drop was to safety below.

Sweetie Belle did not even realize that she became unconscious, either as she fell or from the impact below. When she awoke, she was shivering and soaked and she did not know where she was.

“Sweetie Belle?” said Rarity, her face appearing against the black sky. Her tears had created long lines through the ash that covered her face, and her makup had been running as she cried. She immediately gasped as she saw Sweetie Belle moved, and wrapped her sister in a crushing hug. “Sweetie Belle!” she wept.

“Rarity!” gasped Sweetie Belle. She was unable to breathe, but she was so glad to see that her sister was alive.

When Rarity finally released her, Sweetie Belle looked around and realized that she had been moved. The castle now stood in the distance, consumed entirely by fire, with the upper portion of the old stone section collapsed and the mansion now mostly rubble. The gardens surrounding it were alight as well, the trees and flowers burning to death with no one to save them as they followed their castle and their master to the grave.

“Fleur,” said Sweetie Belle, looking up at Rarity.

Rarity shook her head. “I…I don’t think she made it out.”

Sweetie Belle sighed, not knowing if it was a sigh of relief or one of profound sadness. Rarity, she could tell, was on the verge of tears, and not just those of happiness that her sister was okay. She had just lost two friends, as had Sweetie Belle. The effect on Rarity was obvious as she stared at the castle: her eyes were blank, as though she was staring far beyond it.

The air was cold, and as Sweetie Belle watched the dark sky, what had been rain began to turn into snow. The night became silent, save for the cracking of the fire in the distance.

That was when Sweetie Belle saw them. They stood just outside of the dying garden: three white ponies. One was the white stallion, his body solid and real. The other two, though, were translucent and almost ghostly. Sweetie Belle rubbed her eyes, sure that she was hallucinating, but the vision did not fade. She saw the stallion look to her, and then slowly turn back to the castle. The shades that stood with him- -one an earth-pony, and one a thestral- -turned slowly as well. The thestral seemed to give one last look over her shoulder before the pair of them returned to the fire, vanishing within as they went.

“They’re all gone,” said Rarity. Sweetie Belle was not sure if she had seen the same vision or not, or if she even could. “All of them.”

“But we’re still here,” said Sweetie Belle. “We made it!”

Rarity turned toward her sister, staring at her with the same horrible distant expression she had while looking at the castle. “Yes,” she said, absently, putting her foreleg around Sweetie Belle and wrapping her in a tight hug against the cold of the snow and night. “We did.”