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Gothic

by Wanderer D

Chapter 1: Chapter 1: Magna Anima Nocte

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The night was still. No sound came from the nocturnal denizens of the woods, nor from a breeze shaking the dry leaves and branches of dead trees.

Under the moonlight, rocks started to move. They rolled back into their former places, gravel becoming brick and bricks stacking to become walls. Shards of glass, scattered for centuries, merged together into seamless panes; wooden beams reconstructed themselves; stone arcs reformed and floor tiles mended.

In the garden, weeds died and made way for roses, poinsettias and other wintery flowers. The maze grew back, and the broken statues became whole once more.

Dirt and weeds parted, revealing clean pavement underneath as an invisible wind cleared it of any residue along its snaking length until it reached the bridge in time with the old trees regaining their vitality. The stone anchors for the bridge became sturdy once more; the rusted metal rings from which it hung cleared of rust as the rotting ropes braided into sturdy, oiled hemp and the planks returned to their old solid and reliable state.

And in one of the castle's regrown towers, a ghostly light moved up towards one of the rooms, until it settled next to the window.

The candlelight flickered in the darkness, making the shadows on the wall oscillate like shimmering waves of inky darkness as the candle settled onto a solid oak desk that occupied most of the room, empty save for some scrolls, an inkwell and a raven's feather quill, all waiting to be used.

The quill levitated slowly upward and dipped itself in the inkwell.

Outside, the pale moon's bluish-white light illuminated the wild forest at the base of the castle. As if time had returned, the timber wolves howled their calls into the sky from the shadows where they hid from sight. The wind whipped against the walls, seeping in through the cracks and making the candle flicker even more.

But the feather remained in the magical hold, untouched and unperturbed by nature. Careful of any spills, the feather lightly tapped the edge of the inkwell and levitated over an open scroll.

Slowly it lowered until the tip was just scratching its surface. The feather started moving as the magic commanded it. Wispy golden energy flowed after the careful, flourishing lines and curly ends of each letter only to fade into black ink with silvery tinges.

The letter was slowly composed, the author considering each word carefully, making sure each sentence was laden with meaning. She intended it for the right ones. And only the right ones.

The raven's feather hovered over the letter, as if pondering. Then, with an almost casual stroke, its master's will etched her signature onto the scroll.

o.0.o Gothic o.0.o

[ACT 1]

Chapter 1: Magna Anima Nocte

Dear Diary,

I have neglected you for a while, haven't I? I've read a few of the previous pages and, my, how much have I changed! And yet, how little.

It's been seven years since I last perused your pages to pen down my thoughts. Seven years! Things have really moved forward in the direction I so-not-naively thought they would. My career has gone well and my music is a constant evolution of strings and beauty.

If ever anypony reads these words, they will recall due to the date that this is the third day since Princess Luna fell ill. Her majesty's sudden illness threw the Gala off-kilter. While Princess Luna insisted it should take place, Princess Celestia could not be swayed. The Grand Galloping Gala was canceled, and with that my last job for the year.

Although what exactly it is that ails our beloved Princess of the Night is unknown, we all hope for her hasty recovery, even if it is too late to save the Gala. I heard from one of the Castle's orderlies that Luna is beset by fever and dark visions, that few guards dare stand vigil outside her chambers because of magics invoked in her delirious dreams. They say that when she is awake, she barely recognizes anypony at all, other than her sister and her sister's student, Twilight Sparkle.

Oh, I forget, my dear friend, I never wrote about that incident with Princess Luna returning and Nightmare Moon being defeated by Celestia's student, did I? I think I have a piece of newspaper I saved to commemorate that there was a morning, the following morning.

But, dear diary, the happenings at Court are really not my concern. Especially if I am not to play at all for the noble stallions and mares of Canterlot.

Truth be told, I am a bit glad the Gala was canceled. Yes, my dear friend, I am glad I am not attending. And it has nothing to do with the horror it became last year, not at all. I have been restless. And as much as I like to say that the beauty of my music keeps evolving, the truth is that I can't concentrate at all.

For little over a week, I have been having nightmares dreams. Strange dreams with a sense of foreboding. I toss and turn, and when I finally succumb to tiredness, I wake up with barely-remembered visions of, well, I can't clearly recall. But they are disturbing.

Not horrible, mind you, as nightmares would be, but certainly disturbing.

It has affected my music. I have been unable to write a single note. I stare at the empty lines begging for me to ink a melody into them, and it eludes me.

My latest piece, “Darkness”, is mired in hiatus as a result. But that is not the worst thing.

Today in the mail, I received a scroll. I didn't expect much of it, but upon opening it, I found an invitation to participate as a competitor in the “Magna Anima Nocte”, a tradition that has been lost for almost a thousand years!

I could not ignore it. I can't now, much later in the day. Even if I have nothing but my old pieces to compete with, and even if my dreams haunt me all through the event, I cannot—in honor of my struggles and career and dreams—deny myself such an opportunity. Which is why, tired and weary, I depart in a few hours for Ponyville. I will be picked up by coach there the day after, and be taken to the Castle of the Two Sisters, where the event is to take place.

I managed, after scurrying about begging favors of friends and acquaintances, to secure the services of Miss Rarity, who is famous for many reasons, most importantly to me, her skills as a designer and seamstress. Our mutual acquaintance assured me that Rarity would be more than happy to help.

I am very grateful for this is an event that demands my wardrobe live up to it unlike the Grand Galloping Gala where I would simply look smart as a performer.

I should go for now, my dear friend. I have much to pack.

Our hostess, Winter Charm, has assured me in her invitation that I will be expected and that a room will be already prepared for me with all the commodities befitting my status as participant.

With such a generous invitation and with such an opportunity, I would be remiss to decline, wouldn't I?

I hope, dear friend, you will not mind me relying on you to clear my mind as you helped me so many years ago.

~Octavia

Canterlot's train station was a hub of activity; trains would depart at specific times, but it never stopped ponies from arriving almost too late and having to dash around in hopes of catching them, nor did the speakers ever truly quiet.

It seemed to Octavia that every time one announcement was made, it would just be dying away as the next began: Star Spangles, report to the police station, your parents are looking for you! Last call to Fillydephia! Train thirty-nine, departing to Manehattan to be boarded at platform eight. And so on and so forth.

It gave her a headache. The acoustics of the place just made everything louder than necessary, and the constant din of ponies conversing, all trying to be heard over one another made the whole experience akin to smashing her head against a wall. Repeatedly.

She sighed and looked at her teacup, still hot. She had about half an hour before she even needed to get to the platform and board and from her vantage point, at the cafe, she had a clear view of it. The train to Ponyville could be easily distinguished from the others.

Where the trains to Manehattan and Fillydelphia were painted dull colors and their cars designed in a uniform, conservative style, Ponyville's train was just the opposite. One car was painted bright pink and had a curved ceiling, followed by a cyan-blue car that had plants growing just outside the windows. The other cars followed the same motif of not having anything to do with each other, and the train's locomotive was smaller than its peers in the station, making it look decidedly cute.

Octavia shook her head. She knew Ponyville to be a quaint little town, but to have that extend to their train seemed a bit much.

“Her Royal Highness Princess Luna has taken a turn for the worse!” a unicorn colt with newspapers piling precariously out of his saddlebags announced loudly, slowly making his way along the platform as his magic waved one such newspaper in the air for all to see. “Doctors wonder if she will live past the month!” He paused to sell a copy to a passerby. “Princess Celestia refuses to receive any visitors!”

The station's noise reduced as ponies stopped their conversations, ears and eyes lowering as the news were bellowed in the station.

Octavia bought a copy and glanced at the picture of Luna, smiling as she talked to Twilight Sparkle. The picture, however, had nothing to do with the contents of the article, which described Luna's worsening health. Her fever had incremented, and she remained unable to awaken at all but for brief moments, in which her eyes would open and she would try to say something before plunging back into unconsciousness and dark dreams.

Princess Celestia had sequestered herself in the Royal Library, along with Twilight Sparkle to pore over books and try to find a plausible cause for this ailment.

Darker rumors had arisen that this was Luna's punishment for giving in to Nightmare Moon, notwithstanding her one thousand year imprisonment in the Moon, while other, more ludicrous ones claimed that Luna was about to transform again into her evil alter ego.

Regardless of the reason, Luna's suffering affected everypony. There wasn't a single soul in Canterlot, and most likely all of Equestria, who wasn't worried about their princesses.

It was hard for everypony to see their beloved Celestia so distraught, and Princess Luna had made such a huge effort to be recognized and loved that she had finally just started to reap the rewards of her efforts. If anything were to happen to the Princess of the Night, all of ponydom would be devastated.

Octavia put down the paper and took a sip of her tea, grimacing. The tea had no flavor at all. Shaking her head, she finished the lukewarm water and stood up, putting her saddlebags back on, and making sure her cello's case was secure before crossing the station to the platform where her train sat.

There was no point in waiting. Maybe inside the train she would get rid of her headache. It would at least be less loud in there than in the station.

She boarded without a problem, and soon had placed her saddlebags right next to her and her cello. Octavia sighed and rested on the comfortable seat. Her headache receded almost as soon as the windows muffled the noise.

Running a weary hoof through her mane, she sank back into the seat and stared at the ponies bustling outside. Slowly her eyelids became heavier, the ponies, donkeys and the occasional gryphon outside becoming a blur. Her eyelids came down for a moment of perfect darkness, before she forced them open again.

Octavia felt herself nodding off. Releasing a slow, deep breath, she leaned her head against the pillowed back of her seat.

The house was a mess. She couldn't remember how it had happened, but she had gone into a rage. She had smashed the windows and thrown her pots and pans across from the kitchen into her studio. Her beloved cello rested on the floor, dented and with all but one of the strings snapped.

A whisper made her turn, as if somepony was talking to her, but she was alone. The light from outside barely chased away the shadows, which withered and crawled around her the moment she looked away.

A deep feeling of unease started to settle on her. There was something terribly wrong with what was happening. Somepony, some... thing, was observing her. She could feel it.

She saw the moon rise. A blood-red orb pulsating with dark energy. She felt trapped. The feeling of unease increased until she was sure she was about to be attacked by something... one of the shadows, or was it coming from outside?

She took a nervous step back, looking around wildly, and she felt it watching her take a step of its own in her direction. She started to breathe faster and turned around, running towards the door, but it seemed like it was so far away! Octavia jumped through the door to her bedroom and closed it.

It was quiet. The room felt old… much older than it was. The bedsheets were still a mess, but dust covered them, as if nopony had lived there in a long, long time.

And then she heard it.

Water. She could hear waves, and for some reason that scared her so much. The sound became louder and louder. The sea would come for her. A sea full of stars, crashing around her home. Her only escape was the closet, but the darkness also awaited her there.

She could either drown or throw herself into something worse.

She swallowed and looked around, wildly searching for another exit. Her eyes settled on her window, and she ran towards it, opening it quickly, she looked outside for a way out, but something stopped her.

Canterlot was disappearing. One by one the buildings, as far as she could see were being consumed by a dark wave of night.

Octavia screamed as the wave crashed on her home, the roar of water drowning all sound.

She jumped in her seat, wildly holding on to the window as the train made its way out of Canterlot. Breathing heavily, Octavia tried to remember what she had dreamed, but other than being watched... there was nothing to remember.

She looked out the window and noticed that they were already out of the city. Looking at the passing scenery, she concluded that she had been asleep for about an hour then.

Trying to take deep breaths to slow down her hammering heart, she slowly pulled out an envelope from her saddlebags and pulled out a carefully folded piece of paper.

Octavia stared at the letter in her hooves. Around her the train heaved and shuddered on its way to Ponyville. The setting sun's light would be interrupted from time to time, breaking the hypnotic quality of the penmanship in the letter for a fraction of a second before her eyes would settle on it again.

She still didn't know what she was doing on a train. She hated trains, even if this one was nice with its curving designs and the warm colors... it was not her type of setting. The constant rumbling; the rattling of the damnable machine... it was a cacophony of distraction, and she valued the little time she had for quiet reflection.

The company left something to be desired as well. Her eyes strayed up from the beautifully penned letter to glare at the white unicorn across from her. She knew who it was, of course. Vinyl Scratch, aka DJ Pon3. Purveyor of chaos and producer of noise that had enough of a repetitiveness that ponies would spasm to it and call it dancing.

Apparently Miss Scratch had decided to sit across from her, of all possible places, while Octavia slept.

The DJ glanced at her, before looking out of the window, nodding and humming to herself in the world her enormous headphones had created for her. Despite their sound-containing design, Octavia could still hear the drums and electronic sounds emanating from it, and mixed with that damnable humming it was almost driving her up the wall.

She briefly considered moving to another seat, but as long as the DJ kept to herself, she could suffer her proximity.

Octavia's eyes settled down on the words once more. It was incredible that something like this would be held near Ponyville rather than in Canterlot. Usually, she would have cast the letter right out of her apartment and considered it a prank rather than a formal invitation. And yet... she felt a shiver run up her spine. There was a quality to it. A certain edge to the lines, that wouldn't let her ignore it. She knew it to be genuine.

Octavia closed her eyes and took a deep, shuddering breath.

The invitation. A chance to be part of a millennia-old event almost mythical in nature. The words called to her heart... her soul tugged at her conscience, and her mind spun into daydreams of... she looked back at the letter.

“The Magna Anima Nocte,” she whispered in reverence.

A legend.

She felt as if a cold wind had made its way into the cabin. Across from her, still lost in her music, Vinyl Scratch shivered and pulled her forelegs closer around her.

Octavia finally leaned down to slip the invitation back into her saddlebags. She groaned in irritation when she had to push Vinyl's saddlebags to the side, but once the invitation was secure in its container, she was able to pull out her history book and lean into her seat.

She scanned the pages, wanting to reassure herself.

She finally found the entry and glossed over it again, having already read the its contents several times over.

The Magna Anima Nocte. Held once every five hundred years for an untold period of time, old enough for its origins to be lost to recorded history. A tradition started in the honor of her royal highness, Princess Luna.

It had been skipped twice: once with the rise of Nightmare Moon, and the second due to Luna's exile. But the Night Princess was back, and apparently so was the tradition.

Octavia allowed her smile to show. She was invited. She would be one of the few who were to be allowed this honor to prove themselves the greatest. At her young age, that was an amazing feat, not to mention opportunity.

All the great families would be there. The affair was incredibly private, and only those of a clear lineage would be allowed to even contemplate attending.

The thought of the crème de la crème surrendering themselves to her music, stepping in perfect, practiced motions of pure, elegant dancing flooded her imagination with its delicious appeal.

She was midway through the third imagining when the train lurched into a stop. Octavia started, shaking her head and dropping her book between her seat and the cabin's wall.

“Dammit,” she muttered, wrenching herself out of the pleasantness of her daydream to try and dig the book out.

Across from her, Vinyl Scratch stretched and picked up her saddlebags, barely sparing anypony a glance as she made her way out of the train. Octavia didn't even acknowledge her, concentrating instead in the vexing process of trying to fish her book out. Her hoof barely fit in between the space, so trying to grab it with her mouth was completely out of the question.

After trying different angles, she was finally able to push it all the way down, where it slid under the seat. It was a simple matter to pull it out after that.

“Just my luck,” she sighed as she opened her bags, moved some of the records out of the way and slid the book inside. She donned her saddlebags and, after slinging her cello's case over her back and securing it, stepped onto the platform with a smile. She blinked.

She didn't own that many records, other than the classics and a single copy of her own, and furthermore, she would never bring them with—

Looking around in a panic, she quickly spotted a conveniently vacated bench. Galloping up to it, she carefully leaned her cello's container against it, and then opened the saddlebags, confirming her fears.

These were not her saddlebags! She face-hoofed. “Vinyl Scratch! That idiot mare didn't even look at what she was taking with her!”

She looked up and towards the town. The cold wind was already raising a slight mist, and the locals were beginning to light up the streetlamps. Ponyville was not a terribly big town, thankfully, or she would have despaired more. She still had tonight to search around.

All her work and ideas for the Magna Anima Nocte were in her bag! Sure, she had practiced but... what about last-minute revisions?! No, this would not do.

Gathering her thoughts, Octavia took a deep breath and released it, clearly visible in the cold air. She closed her eyes and breathed again. She would have to find Vinyl Scratch. There was no other option… except she had an appointment to attend first. But then… then she would hunt down Vinyl Scratch, and that mare would learn once and for all to stay away.

Her purple eyes focused on the street just outside the station. With a sigh and a resolute nod, she took the saddlebags and cello and set out.

“Trust me, Miss Philarmonica, the dress will be be fabulous,” Rarity assured her. “So please stop fidgeting!”

Octavia sighed and tried her best to remain still. “I'm sorry, Miss Rarity, I happened upon a bit of an issue earlier tonight and my mind is still on it.”

“Oh, I am sorry,” Rarity said, pausing for a moment. “It must be an important event for you to be so nervous.”

“It is a very important event, Miss Rarity, which is why I came to you,” she smiled a bit as she spoke. “I heard good things about your designs at one of Mr. Fancy Pant's events, and since I was on my way... I figured I might as well make an appointment. I am sorry that it's on such short notice. I was not aware that I would be invited until... well, last night.”

Rarity nodded. “Well dear, at least you had the presence of mind to book ahead, even if it was just a day.” She used her magic to simultaneously take several measurements. “And to think that my designs are still being talked about in Canterlot!” She giggled.

Octavia merely nodded, her mind adrift, worrying about what mischief Vinyl Scratch would be perpetrating on her missing saddlebags. When she noticed Rarity looking expectantly at her, she shook her head. “I am terribly sorry, Miss Rarity, I'm afraid I missed your question.”

“It's quite alright,” Rarity assured her. “I was just wondering what problem might ail you. It's normal to be nervous for an important event, but you are used to performing in front of crowds!”

Octavia smiled a little. “Well, yes, but the nature of my predicament is a bit more immediate and vexing than the opinion of my audience...” She bit her lower lip. “The mare that sat across from me in the train accidentally took my saddlebags instead of her own. My invitation to the event was there, and I've no means of contacting the host.”

“Oh my,” Rarity gasped. “But worry not, Miss Philharmonica, if it's anypony from Ponyville, I most definitely know where they live! Do you know the name of the mare by any chance? Or perhaps her cutie mark?”

“Oh, I know her alright,” Octavia growled. “Vinyl Scratch. But I don't think she lives in—”

“Ah, but of course!” Rarity spoke up with a grin. “Vinyl Scratch! Why, if she hadn't introduced me to the pleasure of listening to your music I'm afraid I would—”

“Wait, what? How did she introduce you to my music?” Octavia interrupted, her eyes widening.

Rarity blinked. “Oh. Do you mean to tell me you don't know?”

Octavia sighed. “Miss Rarity, I am barely an acquaintance of Miss Scratch; I have no idea what it is that I am supposed to know.”

“I'm sorry,” Rarity said. “I am just surprised. Vinyl Scratch has an extremely popular piece which starts with one of your own... 'Air.'” Rarity's horn flashed, and an LP floated out of its place on a shelf.

Octavia recognized it instantly. It was one of the few records she had published.

“What?!” Octavia almost shouted, reining herself in at the last moment. “But! How could she-I never let her! She... oh, Celestia, she is going to get it!”

Rarity made soothing motions with her hooves. “Calm down! Calm down! I assure you it's done nothing but good! Why, more half the ponies in Ponyville know who you are because Vinyl tells everypony it's an arrangement in honor of your piece!” Rarity pulled out a magazine and showed it to Octavia. She could see Vinyl Scratch on a picture in it and under it an interview, where she, Octavia, came up as an inspiration for the DJ.

“I-I don't know what to say,” Octavia sat down hard, eyes staring blankly. “I-I always thought that Vinyl—”

“She's performing in an hour or so at Sugarcube Corner,” Rarity said. “And she'll be staying there the night; she's good friends with Pinkie Pie. After we are done here, you can head straight there and find her.”

Octavia was again speechless. She had thought it would have taken her some time to find Vinyl Scratch, but it never occurred to her that in a small town like Ponyville, everypony would know each other. She became aware of Rarity having said something. “Oh, I-I'm sorry, Miss Rarity. As you can see, my mind is all over the place. What was it that you asked?”

“Don't worry,” Rarity smiled. “I simply asked what the occasion is! Not much happens around Ponyville that requires my expertise in formalwear.”

Octavia sighed. “Only the most important moment of my career,” she whispered, then spoke louder. “It's a... secret event, a celebration of the night, but one that carries incredible weight with it. I am... competing.”

Rarity's eyes widened. “Well then,” her magic flashed and suddenly several more fabrics floated out, along with blank scrolls where several designs started taking shape.

Octavia gasped at what she was seeing. The materials alone...

“I-no, Miss Rarity, I must insist that you keep within my budget! I cannot afford this!”

“Nonsense, this won't cost you a single bit extra,” Rarity said, waving a hoof dismissively.

“But.. the gold threads—”

“Ah, yes.” Rarity sniffed in annoyance. “Whatever was I thinking? That does not go with your coat and mane! And you said this is a celebration of the night? Then we must play to it! My original design will not bring out that sense of unity with it! No, we must play with everything we have, your eye color, your mane, your coat! Even your cutie mark!”

“But, Miss Rarity, I cannot possibly afford this!” Octavia begged as purple velvet spiraled out of the fabrics along with black silk.

“I'm sorry, Octavia, but I cannot let you present yourself for such a monumental social task wearing what we had agreed earlier.” Rarity shrugged. “and like I said, this won't cost you an extra bit.”

Octavia quieted down as the unicorn fussed around her, comparing materials and colors. Getting sudden inspirations and discarding them just as quickly. After a few minutes she sighed.

“Why?”

“Mmh?” Rarity hummed distractedly.

“Why are you doing this?”

Rarity actually paused. “Because,” her voice was soft, and yearning. “Because the one chance in a lifetime should never be ignored, and we should never have to face it except at our best.” She raised her eyes to meet Octavia's. “Win. And look fabulous while doing it.” She smiled a bit more. “And if you insist on payment, consider this a repayment for the beautiful music you brought into my life.”

She resumed working, refusing to meet Octavia's eyes.

“I will,” the musician said after a moment of silence. “And... thank you for your generosity.”

Next Chapter: Chapter 2: Trixie's Warning Estimated time remaining: 1 Hour, 20 Minutes
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