Duskby HeirApparent
Chapters
A Faded Moon
“The unique magic of Alicorns has long been a mystery to Ponykind. They are creatures of immense strength, capable of guiding celestial bodies with little more than a thought. Their power is unrivaled, even by the greatest Unicorn mages.
Where did all this power come from? Our two Princesses, Celestia of the Sun and Luna of the Night, refuse to speak of their youth, of the most developmental years of their existence. And as far as we know, there are no other Alicorns, or least there have not been any for the past millennia.
With no answers in sight, the studies of Alicorn magic have long been discarded…”
Luna sighed as the book thumped back onto her bed, her telekinetic grasp on it released. The tome’s binding snapped shut, revealing a beautifully engraved cover. Large, flowery script proudly proclaimed the title, Magical Mysteries and Arcane Ambiguities. The Princess had thought the book might make for an interesting read, but found that she simply could not continue.
“Ignorance is bliss,” she softly muttered to herself. Rising to her feet, she grimaced slightly as the muscles in her legs protested the movement, numb after resting under her body for the past few hours. Luna, however, welcomed the discomforting feeling. It was proof that she was back, that she was in control of her body. The Princess was back, the Nightmare was gone.
A few seconds later, the mattress adjusted itself as the Princess leapt off it, landing on the marble floor of her bedroom. Her hooves clacked lightly against the ground, the coolness exhilarating after lying on her warm bed for so long. Luna’s horn began to glow, and a glimmering shroud enveloped the book still resting on her bed. Lifting such a small object was nothing for the mistress of the moon; the volume soon rested on a bedside table, next to several other large manuscripts which Luna had selected for her nightly reading session. But, Luna knew that she wouldn’t find herself able to read for the rest of the night.
A short walk brought the Alicorn to a glass door. A light shove, and Luna was able to step out onto her balcony. Glancing down, the Princess was able to observe all of Canterlot, the illustrious capital of the nation she and her sister had helped create. A smile slowly spread across her face, as she examined her many subjects. Although most chose to rest during her night, there were a few ponies still wandering the streets. A group of adolescent stallions were raising a light ruckus a few miles away, their antics illuminated by the full moon. A pair of sweethearts nuzzled each other on a park bench, bathing in the starlight. Some Pegasus ponies on the night shift flew about, kicking or moving clouds, preparing for the next day’s weather forecast, sunny with a slight chance of rain. Luna’s night may have not held the crowds that gathered during her sister’s day, but the dark-blue Alicorn had decided that she preferred it this way.
Turning her gaze upward, Luna’s eyes searched the vast expanse of sky that was her canvas, her ever-shifting masterpiece. Stars twinkled brightly, far away planets slowly danced along their orbit, and the occasional comet flashed across the expanse of space. Most prominent by far, however, was the moon. Tonight, it was at its fullest and its brightest, shining its light all across Equestria. Smiling at the orb, Luna again wondered how she could ever have been jealous of her sister and her sun. Celestia may have the brighter sphere, but Luna’s was the more beautiful by far. Although the Princess knew its surface was ridden with craters and mountains, at this distance the celestial body seemed to be perfect, with nary a flaw to speak of.
Luna sighed, and slowly walked back into her bedroom. A slight flicker in the corner of her eye caused her to turn around with a start, head raised and wings outstretched. Another Alicorn looked back at her, equally startled, a navy coat and sky-blue mane perfectly accenting a cutie-mark of a crescent moon. Sighing with relief, Luna approached the mirror, examining her reflection. Although she’d never admit it, Luna knew that like her elder sister, she was quite beautiful. There were many stallions who would find themselves enchanted by her unearthly splendor, who would gladly fall in love with the newest Princess of Equestria. But, what did they know of beauty? What did they know of looking beyond the skin, of searching a pony’s heart?
All too well, Luna knew of the darkness that lurked inside her, the hatred and jealously that seethed and boiled beneath a layer of reason and love. Luna knew that she would never be free of these feelings, that the evil locked deep within her soul was just as timeless as she was. Even now, she could feel it gnawing at her, whispering in her ear…
“No!” Luna exclaimed forcefully, stamping her hoof against the cold floor. This was not going to happen again. Not now, not ever. She had walked down that path once, and found nothing but loneliness and despair. Shaking her head, Luna forced herself to turn away from the mirror, to ignore the whispers in her ears. She was stronger now, she had found something, no, somepony to stand by. Six ponies, to be precise.
A light smile again returned to Luna’s lips, as thoughts of her friends enveloped her mind. Twilight Sparkle, one of the brightest and most powerful unicorns in recorded history. Rainbow Dash, the fastest flyer to come out Cloudsdale for centuries, and the only pony in recorded history to perform a Sonic Rainboom. Applejack, the hardworking farm horse, known for her boundless strength and eternal loyalty. Fluttershy, the kindest mare a pony could ever hope to meet, but strong as a dragon when called upon. Rarity, the most elegant unicorn in all of Ponyville, possibly all of Equestria. And Pinkie Pie, the… who… and Pinkie Pie.
A dark glow lit the Alicorn’s horn, as Luna summoned a quill and book from a nearby desk. Maybe tonight would finally be the night she wrote the letter.
Taking a deep breath, Luna began speaking aloud as she wrote. “Dearest Twilight Sparkle, I cannot thank you and your friends enough… No, too personal.
Celestia’s prized pupil, Twilight Sparkle. The Princess Luna, of the Night and all its Beauties, would like to extend her immense gratitude… No, no, far too formal.
Dear Twilight, I believe that my thanks are long overdue to you and your friends. Without your brave actions a year ago, I shudder to think… No, no, no!”
Luna ground her teeth in frustration, dropping the quill and book to the floor. How could she possibly be suffering from writers block! She had written dozens of scientific journals, hundreds of political treaties, and two biographies! Why was she unable to finish a simple letter?
Sighing, the Princess lifted the book again, her horn alight with magic. A few moments later, and a page was ripped from the binding, before being crumpled up and tossed into a corner, where it joined several hundred others. Staring at the pile of papers dejectedly, Luna decided that she really should get that cleaned up. Eventually.
Turning her attention back to the book floating before her, Luna flipped back a few hundred pages all of them blank, except for a small crescent moon in the upper right-hoof corner of each page. Finally, she reached the title page, upon which were written three words, in a simple, but elegant script. Despite being written several thousand years ago, the words were still perfectly legible. Scrawled across the middle of the page, two large words proclaimed, “My Diary.” Slightly below, and a bit smaller in size, “Password?”
The quill floated into the air again, once more under the influence of Luna’s spell. Directly below the prompt, Luna wrote, “Moon.” After a few moments, the new addition to the page faded away, the ink seemingly drawn into the page.
Scratching emitted from the quill, as more and more entries were written and rejected. “Night. Star. Friends. Celestia. Alicorn. Equestria. Sun. Cloud. Twilight.” Nothing remained upon the page besides its original content. Bowing her head, Luna returned the book and quill to their places on the desk. That was enough for tonight.
Slinking back to her bed, Luna ungraciously flopped across the mattress, slowly sinking into its feathery embrace. It wouldn’t be time to lower the moon for a few hours, and some rest would surely do her good. Allowing her eyes to slowly close, Luna felt herself drift off to sleep. As her last bits of consciousness slipped away, she found herself praying for an empty, restful sleep. She didn’t want to dream again…
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A couple hours later, Luna’s slumbering form kicked sheets and pillows off the bed, as the Princess twisted and turned. Suddenly, her erratic movement stopped. Luna lay perfectly still for a couple minutes, before slowly opening her eyes. If anypony had been there to watch the Alicorn, they would have noticed an unfamiliar emotion in her eyes. Fear.
Slowly rising to her feet, Luna walked towards her balcony. Feelings of exhaustion and muscles protesting were ignored. Nudging the glass door open yet again, Luna searched the sky, looking for the source of her unease. Her eyes suddenly stopped moving, and she rushed to the edge of the balcony, gaze locked onto a single spot, upon a lone star. A star that soon faded from existence. Luna backed away slowly, her mouth forming words that she barely registered.
“No… that’s not possible… Celly! Celly!”
Turning around, Luna raced across her room, slamming her door open with a burst of magic, one that almost tore it off its hinges. The Princess ran on, shouting for her sister, as far above her, in the reaches of the night sky, another star slowly disappeared. And then another. And another.
Setting the Stage
Bong, bong, bong, bong. Startled by the sudden noise, a snow-white Pegasus garbed in golden armor suddenly stood at attention, his rapidly blinking eyes attempting to drive off the sleep that yearned to drag them shut. Glancing at a clock a few yards down the hall from him, the pony mentally groaned. “Only 4 o’clock? Well, I guess I can stand a couple more hours…” he muttered to himself.
Working the night shift at Canterlot’s palace was a duty that normally fell to the rookie Royal Guards, such as this less than exemplar colt. It was a boring, if easy job. Stand in the hallway, watch for anything suspicious, don’t fall asleep, blah blah blah. The pony sighed. Why did they even need a night guard? It wasn’t like anything ever happened around here anyway. Sure, there had been that whole issue with Nightmare Moon about a year ago, but now Princess Luna was back, and it wasn’t like there were any other enemies floating around out there. Hell, they could probably abolish the entire Royal Guard at this point.
Settling back into a more relaxed stance, the guard’s thoughts began to wander again. His shift ended at six; there might be some time to have some fun before he had to get to sleep. He could visit that donut shop downtown, according to some friends it was a favorite of Princess Celestia. Might be worth checking out.
Suddenly, the Pegasus pricked his ears up. Was that someone screamingOW MY RIBS. A navy-tinted blur had slammed into the colt, throwing him a few yards through the air. By the time the guard had picked himself up, the apparition had already vanished down the hallway, its echoes bouncing around the walls. The Pegasus stood in shock, staring in the direction the strange blur had disappeared in. After a moment, he glanced at his side, and mournfully noted the massive dents that now covered the right side of his armor. His captain was going to kill him…
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Luna wanted to stop and apologize to the confused (and likely unconscious) guard. It had been a long time since she had moved this fast, but the situation demanded it. Swerving around corners and dashing through hallways, Luna moved as fast as she could towards her sister’s quarters, shouting out Celestia’s name every few paces. This was a dire emergency; of this the Alicorn had no doubt.
After what felt like hours of travel, Luna finally skidded to a halt in front of her sister’s ornate bedroom door, panting and out of breath. The twin Pegasi guarding the room glanced at her with some worry. One of them began to ask what she wanted with Celestia, but was silenced by a flash from Luna’s horn.
Celestia’s door slammed open, jarring the taller Alicorn from her slumber. Bleary-eyed, she wearily turned her head towards her younger sister. “Luna? What are you…” Celestia’s question trailed off, as she noticed the terrified expression adorning her sister’s face. The bed sheet was quickly thrown off, and Celestia quickly embraced Luna, attempting to comfort the smaller pony.
“What is it? What’s wrong Luna?” The gentle whisper broke through Luna’s terror, and she wrapped her arms around her elder sister.
“Oh Celestia… I’m scared. I’m so scared.” Luna trembled in her sister’s embrace. Although she could not see the sky from her current vantage, she could still feel the strange presence spreading through it, obscuring her stars, stealing their light. It felt like her own life-force was slowly being drained away, slipping bit by bit. “Please, look outside. Something’s wrong.”
Gently releasing her sister, Celestia slowly walked towards a window on the far wall. Although she was not nearly as attached to the night as Luna, Celestia knew enough about the stars to realize that a few constellations were off. Orion’s hands were missing, and Ursa Minor was… Celestia stopped breathing as she saw a star vanish. Slowly at first, but then faster and faster, she began to tremble. Her eyes widened in horror as she saw more and more pricks of light vanish into nothingness. “No…”
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No one knew where the darkness had come from. If anypony had been awake at four that morning, they might have noticed a few oddly behaved stars. If they had been curious, and kept watching those stars, they would have eventually noticed them slowly peter out, as they faded into blackness. Then, they surely would have been able to trace a spread of darkness, as more and more of the celestial bodies disappeared from sight. They would have seen moon itself follow its smaller brethren, leaving the night sky lightless. Then at half past six, the moment the sun was meant to rise, the early riser would have been treated to a terrifying display: The darkness that had stolen the light, the presence that had taken away the beauty of the night sky, touched Equestria.
It spread faster than a wildfire in the dry season, more widespread than the largest fog in recorded history. Plains, roads, forests, lakes, rivers, towns, cities, anything and everything was swept up by the blackness.
As ponies began to rise from their slumber, they were at first merely confused by the strange conditions. Had they set their alarms too early? Was there a fog scheduled for today? However, these questions were laid to rest as they further examined the strange presence.
Every colt and filly is afraid of the dark at some point. It’s an unconscious fear, one of the unknown, the mysterious, the unfamiliar. When seen through a haze of darkness, friendly and familiar objects become perverted and twisted. An open closet is a gateway to another world, the shadows tell tales of strange and dangerous creatures. It’s a fear that every young pony must face and accept at some point in their lives. Most are able to adapt to the darkness, to learn to ignore this instinctive fear. They mature, and soon forget their adolescent fears.
This darkness brought it all back. Anypony who looked outside and saw their world through the veil of blackness could feel their sanity begin to slip away. Fears that had been laid to rest years ago were reawakened, long-forgotten nightmares were instantly recalled. Equestria began to go insane.
There had been panic. Cities like Manehatten and Fillydelphia were nearly destroyed by riots and looters, ponies who had been driven to the brink of madness in their terror. What few remnants of the Royal Guard who remained organized did what they could to maintain order, but found that they were outnumbered nearly a hundred to one by both civilians and their former comrades. Smaller towns, like Hoofington and Trottingham, were spared the riots, but suffered unbearable silence and isolation from all other areas. It seemed as though Equestria would fall apart.
Then, a miracle. The few who retained their sanity during the disaster in Canterlot would later talk of a great flash of light emitted from the highest tower of the Royal Palace. They found themselves blinded by the light, but thought it infinitely better than the darkness that had nearly stolen their vision. They swore that once they could see again, they saw the darkness sliding away, dispersed as though by some great wind. Waves of blackness faded away, leaving only small clouds, then wisps, then nothing. The sun was high in the sky. The light was back. It was 12 o’clock.
Across Equestria, things began to calm down. The few remaining rioters were quickly dispersed. Fires that had raged during the morning were quelled by the afternoon. Casualties were remarkably low, and by some miracle no deaths were recorded. It seemed that the nation had restored itself. One by one, settlements scattered across the land began to re-establish communication with each other, either via magical messages or simple mail-Pegasi. By that evening, everyone had been accounted for, every citizen of Equestria was known to be safe. All except for one small town, on the outskirts of the Everfree Forest. All except for Ponyville.
Unlike the rest of Equestria, Ponyville was still trapped beneath a sea of dark. The late afternoon son failed to pierce it, and nopony was willing to venture into the smog a second time. With bated breath, the nation waited for any news to emerge from the small town, for any contact or hope to emerge from the shroud.
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In a hollow tree, stuffed full of tables and books, a purple librarian and a baby dragon curled together underneath a hoof-stitched blanket. In an elegant dress shop, rolls of fabric and mannequins knocked aside in a panic, three snow-white forms, two sisters and a companion huddled next to one another in a storage room. In a sweet-encrusted bakery, two older ponies tightly hugged each other, their forms further entwined by a pair of pink legs impossibly stretched around both the couple and a small, toothless alligator. In a hidden cellar, built into a hillside covered with apple-trees, a family of four embraced each other, a loyal farmhand growling at the intruding presence. In a small cottage on the outskirts of town, dozens of terrified eyes could be seen in the darkness, their cream-colored caretaker hyperventilating in a corner, a small, white rabbit attempting to comfort her. In the darkness floating above the town, reaching high into the sky, a cyan blur raced back and forth, clearly disoriented, frantically searching for an escape where none was to be found.
The darkness persisted long after the sun began its descent. Most of Ponyville’s citizens, weary from a day full of nothing but horror and blackness, found themselves falling into a fitful sleep, plagued by dreams of evil and despair. Six of the town’s residents were not so lucky. As night fell over the land, they remained painfully awake, perfectly aware of the terror that pounded in their minds, the fear that crept through the deepest cracks of their psyches.
“Let’s begin…”
Side Story: The Magician
Bong.
If anypony had been paying attention, they would have noticed the seven notes that reverberated around the city square.
Bong.
Although six of the notes were rather routine, heard on a daily basis, they were by no means insignificant. The Manehatten clock tower was a marvelous feat of engineering, combining the arcane knowledge of Unicorn mathematicians with the solid craftsmanship of adroit Earth Pony mechanists. It was one of the city’s best known landmarks, proudly proclaiming the passage of time day after day, hour by hour.
Bong.
But today, nopony cared to listen to the sounds produced by the massive timepiece. Today, there was more to worry about then being late for an appointment, more to fear than a scolding by an irate boss, more to dread then the inevitable, unstoppable passage of time. Today, there was darkness in the air. Today, the city was plagued by madness and fear.
Bong.
The fog had appeared early in the morning, coating the landscape in its inky tendrils. It traveled through holes, it spread through cracks, it twisted throughout the entire city, leaving no corner untouched, casting the metropolis under an eerie twilight. But, the smog brought more than just an unnatural dusk. It brought madness.
Bong.
The citizens of Manehatten, normally so civilized, so dignified, forgot their extravagant mannerisms. They tossed aside their cultured nuances, preferring to wallow in fear and despair. To their terrified minds, around every corner lay a bloodthirsty shadow, behind every bin and crate crouched an unearthly assailant.
Bong.
When faced with such a primal terror, every pony reacts in their own way. Some cower in their beds. Some hide in the basement. Some are frightened to the point of rage, striking out at anything at moves. A few truly courageous ones attempt to withstand their fear, acting as bastions of reason and solace in a world gone mad.
And a few, a very select few, have the most unexpected reaction…
Bang.
They look for attention.
“Come one! Come all! Come witness the amazing magic of the Grrreat and Powerful Trrrixie!”
The Unicorn, stood atop a haphazard pile of refuse and debris, silhouetted from behind by the flames of a burning store, and lit from above by the fading light of a few sparkling fireworks. Clad in a star-covered hat and cloak, and with forehooves dramatically raised towards the heavens, the pony struck an imposing and inspiring figure. Her voice echoed around the area, just as it had in town centers and marketplaces all across Equestria. It was the voice of a show-pony, an entertainer, an artiste. Full of pride and aloofness, it spoke of an owner who had dedicated herself to her art. It told of a pony who had trained for years to reach her current standing. It was the voice of a pony from a league apart, greater by far than the lowly commoners that comprised her adoring audience.
And it was a voice that was ignored. The square, normally packed with carts and stands, stuffed with shoppers and travellers, bursting with colors and sounds, was empty. The storefronts that lined the plaza were devoid of life. A few small fires provided scant illumination, giving the surrounding fog the appearance of a thin smoke. It would have been appropriate, and comical, for a solitary tumbleweed to venture across the deserted arcade. However, the Unicorn, undiscouraged by the lack of an audience, continued her tirade.
“Watch in awe, as the Great and Powerful Trixie performs the most spectacular feats of magic every witnessed by pony eyes!” The ivory upon her head blazed with light, easily seen despite the hat enshrouding it, producing another round of flashes and bangs. A somewhat standard show routine followed; magically appearing flowers, fabricating doves from thin air, juggling a set of flaming staves. Panting slightly, the performer glanced out at the still empty square. Rising to her hind legs, she began bowing.
“Thank you, thank you! But, do not applaud just yet; there is much more to be seen!” Falling back to all four hooves, scrunching her eyes shut in concentration, the mare’s horn began to glow with an unearthly light. Slowly, sparks began to sprinkle from the appendage, falling to the ground in a shower of light. Once a small pile of the flickering specks had been created, they began to shift and float, softly floating through the air.
The sparks, now numbering in the hundreds, followed their creator’s unspoken directions. They twisted and twirled, casting a faint glow back onto the Unicorn. No longer cloaked in the shadows produced by the flames behind her, the disheveled nature of the show-pony was revealed. Her once pristine hat and cloak were tattered and mud-stained. A foreleg was covered in oozing red gashes, as though it had been slashed by the claws of some cruel creature, and the mare’s right eye was black and swollen. Her azure coat and grayish-blue mane and tail were stained and tangled, had obviously gone untended for days.
However, the Unicorn’s ragged condition did nothing to hamper her magical abilities. The sparks began settling, forming into a transparent shape. First, hooved legs appeared, followed by a torso, neck, a flowing tail. Soon, the azure mare was faced by a Unicorn comprised of pure light, a glimmering companion. A mane and tail made of shimmering starlight swished through the air as the figure slowly circled its architect, its gleaming horn casting light over the pony that had given it form. When it had circled the show-pony, the shining figure bent its knee, bowing to the azure Unicorn.
“Yes, that’s it! Bow before the Great and Powerful Trixie! Bask in the glory of the most magical Unicorn the world has ever known!” Daintily, the flesh and blood Unicorn extended her hoof, pausing a few inches from the muzzle of the ethereal one. In response, the apparition lifted its head slightly, pressing the area where its mouth should be against the hoof offered to it. For a long moment, the two figures remained motionless, lit by the magical glow. Slowly, almost silently, the mare moved her mouth. “Love me…”
The world suddenly exploded in a shower of sparks, as a snow-white Pegasus landed on the debris pile. Startled, the show-pony released her spell, her creation fading away, darkness engulfing her once again. The newcomer, clad in the golden armor of the Royal Guard, glanced curiously at the cascade of disappearing lights, before returning his focus to the shocked mare before him.
“Ma’am, I need you to come with me. We’ve got a shelter set up a few blocks from here; if you could justOOF.” A wooden plank suddenly slammed into the Pegasus’ side, ringing off his armamants and driving the air from his lungs. The magical aura that surrounded the timber swung it again and again, mercilessly beating the disoriented pony, slamming into him with enough force to drive him to his knees. With one final blow, the board shattered upon the guard’s helmet, leaving him dazed and disoriented. As he slowly shook his now-bloodied head, the Unicorn approached him, her voice lacking it usual bravado, replaced by undisguised loathing. “Heckling will not be tolerated. How dare you criticize Trixie? How dare you? HOW DARE YOU?” She exclaimed, her terrifying shout ringing around the square.
The mare’s horn began to glow again, as another chunk of wood lifted from the ground. With alarming speed, it raced towards the Pegasus, who had finally regained his footing. Hearing the projectile whistle through the air, the soldier’s battle-trained reflexes took over, flinging him to the side just as the plank embedded itself in the ground. As his hooves hit the ground, the armored pony twisted his body, using his wings to propel himself towards his attacker. The Unicorn, already reaching for another weapon, was caught off guard by the sudden attack, and knocked to her side.
The guard brought an iron-shod hoof to the mare’s neck, applying pressure to a certain point. The aura surrounding the Unicorn’s horn flickered, and then faded, leaving the ivory blank and lifeless. Still grasping for breath, the Pegasus took a moment to analyze his opponent. His steely resolve softened, as he noticed the tears leaking from her eyes. Her body was trembling, as though the temperature had dropped several degrees in a few moments. Her mouth was barely moving, but a few snippets of sound escaped her lips. “Come back… I can do better. I’ll be the best, I promise. Please don’t go…” She repeated her plea; eyes clearly not noticing the smashed windows of the building in front her.
Sighing, the guard looked at his hoof, still pushing down on the show-pony’s neck. It was shuddering almost as much as the pony held beneath it. His gaze shifted to his other leg, and the bloodstains that covered it. He vaguely recalled the other stallion, lashing out at the rest of his squad. He remembered how it felt, slamming his hoof into the Earth Pony’s… he pushed the memory away. He could worry about it later.
Removing his hoof from her neck, the Pegasus bent his knees, crouching next to the shivering mare. Warily, he eyed the area around them, looking for any sign of movement. None could be found. Slowly, wincing in pain, he extended a wing, gingerly laying it over the Unicorn twitching next to him, whispers still slipping from her lips. Although he knew her murmurs were not directed at him, the guard still answered her, as he protectively pulled her closer. “I’m not going to leave you. I promise.”
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Author's Note: For the life of me, I just cannot bring myself to care about Trixie. I've seen some fanon versions of her that are absolutely brilliant, but her character pisses me off to no end. And I think my annoyance with her carried over to this chapter to a certain extent, so sorry if this isn't high quality writing.
As you can probably tell, I've taken UnderstatedHyperbole's suggestion, and am writing a few short stories about various background ponies and their experiences with the darkness. This was the first of at least three, possibly more if I feel like it. Expect the next one in about a week, give or take a few days.
Side Story: The Musician
There are few more effective ways to shatter the dreaming realm than the piercing buzz of an alarm clock. An eternally repeating shriek, tearing through the haze and fog of a sleeping mind, wrenching its victim from fantastical lands, the likes of which may never be seen again. A destroyer of worlds, a crusher of imaginings. Such is the role of an alarm clock.
Then again, when its glowing numerals read 2 in the afternoon, it’s probably time to reenter the waking world.
An ivory-hued hoof and leg, enshrouded by cotton sheets, extended from an amorphous combination of bed and pony and began swiping at the plastic menace, seeking to silence its infernal cries. When the appendage fell short of its target, dropping into the gap between bed and nightstand, it was retracted, to be replaced by a bleary-eyed face. Spreading its lips in a cavernous yawn, the visage further extended itself, revealing a pair of ruby-red eyes, an elaborate spiral of bone, and a mane cast in shades of electric blue. For a moment, the newly awakened being simply sat there, eyes listlessly traveling around the room, taking in its surroundings.
A large room met her gaze; a chamber split into several sections by a series of chest-high walls and small staircases. A plethora of cans littered the floor of the large chamber, their aluminum casings bent and crumpled, faded labels boasting claims of energy and focus. The tops of counters and tables were strewn with old glow-sticks, their ambiguous contents still shining with hints of neon colors, providing slight lighting for the darkened room, as well as a few half empty bowls of stale potato chips, wilted flower petals, and liberally frosted cupcakes. Strands of tissue-thin paper hung from the rafters spanning the length of the room, intermixed with wires suspending iron lamps, trailing down to the floor far below. An alabaster board, hanging askew on one of the walls, was covered with scrawling words and notes, most of them various phrasings of, “Great Party Vinyl!” or, “Good luck cleaning up!” Sadly, most of these messages had spilled off the board as well, staining the white plaster with their cheery statements. The large windows that made up most of a wall were mostly unscathed, only despoiled by a series of salt encrusted hoofprints. The outside world was half-obscured by partially retracted blinds.
The only part of the room untouched by the clutter was a set of jet-black turntables, and the shelves of records stacked behind them. In stark contrast to the rest of the apartment, these items were set in perfect order, vinyl disks tucked gently within their sleeves, switches and dials free of dust and debris. The only thing out of place was a softly glowing red LED, providing scant illumination for the rest of the dim room.
Spin that record Vinyl Scratch and never stop the music.
Shaking her head, the Unicorn turned her attention to the plastic annoyance resting at her bedside, its attention-seeking shrieks tearing through her sleep-clouded thoughts. Face set in a glare of hatred, an alabaster aura emitted from the horn in the center of her forehead. The alarm clock was encased by a similarly-tinted glow, lifted into the air by some unseen force, flung across the room at a speed most Pegasi would envy, and embedded into the plaster of the far wall, next to several other clock-sized indentions. Its shrieks stopped.
Spin that record.
Wearily stumbling from her bed, the pony made her way towards the corner of the room, an area set with a small table, a few counters, several cabinets and drawers, a stove, and an icebox. Entering the kitchenette, the mare’s telekinetic magic grasped the refrigerator’s handle, yanking the metal door open. The light that accompanied this action was enough to momentarily blind the Unicorn, forcing her to rapidly blink her eyes, waiting for them to adjust to the sudden brightness before scanning the contents of the chilly shelves before her.
Spin that record tonight.
Bursts of magic, invisible to the naked eye, soared through the air, grabbing a pitcher from the icebox, a glass from the cabinet, a bowl and spoon from a nearby drawer. As she mentally snatched a cardboard box reading Tasty Oats!, the white Unicorn allowed her still-heavy eyelids to slowly slip close. Her mouth drooped open slightly, but, instead of a snore, a light humming buzzed from the mare’s lips. Accompanied by the sound of cereal being shaken into a bowl, her hoof began gently tapping against the tiled floor. As a glass of milk was carefully being poured, the pony’s head began to steadily dip and rise, nodding in time with some inaudible beat. By the time her meal was prepared, the Unicorn had thrown her entire body into the impromptu dance, obeying the sway of the music flowing through her thoughts and veins.
Spin that spin that record. Spin that record tonight.
Of course, behavior like this was hardly out of the ordinary for the ivory mare. Such was the life of a maestro of the electronic arts; her work never fully left her head. Inaudible beats and tempos accompanied her movements, unspoken lyrics dictated her actions, fantastical rhythms steered her thoughts. Some might call it the mark of a madmare, a condition to be treated by therapy and medication. Others, including most of Hoofington’s younger nightlife, called it the sign of a genius, a gift to praise and enjoy.
Spin that record Vinyl Scratch and never stop the music.
So, as Vinyl Scratch, disk jockey extraordinaire, sat down to enjoy her breakfast, the words pulsing through her mind did little to draw her attention. No, her focus was split and fractured, applying itself to a multitude of tasks. What was her schedule for tonight? Did she have enough food to last the rest of the week, or did she need to go shopping? Why was it so dark out? Who would be stopping by for the after… wait, what was that last one?
……………………
Granted, a pony who spends most of her nights being assaulted by flashes of strobe and neon blurs most likely wasn’t the best judge of how bright it should be at a given time, especially during the day. But, now that she thought about it, turning towards the wall of windows, wasn’t it awfully dark out for 2 in the afternoon? There was no telltale pitter-patter of rain against the windows, nor was it likely that Nightmare Moon had arisen again, bringing with her another nighttime eternal. So, what explanation could there be for the darkness outside her home?
……………………
The floor screeched in protest as Vinyl slowly slid her chair back, at the same time forcing her body to cease its habitual rhythmic movements. Gingerly rising to her hooves, she warily walked towards one of the large windows, pressing her muzzle against the oddly frigid glass. Crimson eyes flickered back and forth, scanning the view she’d seen a thousand times before. All the static features were still there, all the trees and buildings and lampposts and trashcans and sidewalks. However, there was an apparent lack of two things: first, there were no ponies wandering the streets, going about their daily business. The world outside the window was one barren, empty, devoid of life. However, Vinyl only dimly registered this particular absence. Her mind was confused, nonfunctional, stuck trying to explain the mysterious darkness. Unable to find an answer, Vinyl simply sat there, trying to rationalize the dearth of light.
…………………….Can you feel it?
It’s not that there wasn’t light at all; enough illumination fell from the sky for her to at least see. But this lack of brightness could only be considered normal on the cusp of nightfall, long after the sun had begun its daily descent. Something had to be blocking the sunlight, something that wasn’t storm clouds or vengeful goddesses or, or, or… that strange fog might do it.
OH AAHHH AAHHH AAHHH AAHHH!
Tendrils of the wispy material hung in the air, spreading their immaterial fingers across the horizon, tingeing the skyline black with their presence. Gazing at the abnormal mist, Vinyl felt a shudder tear cross her spine, sensed her heartbeat sporadically surge in its tempo.
OH AAHHH AAHHH AAHHH AAHHH!
The skin on Vinyl’s neck began to crawl, the hairs of her nape slowly rising up, accompanying her suddenly ragged breaths. For a moment, the polar-white Unicorn stood motionless, a haze of fear and paranoia slowly dripping through her mind, her thoughts becoming encased by their eldritch touch. Primal instincts, long-buried under layers of rationality and reason, screamed at her, pleaded with her, begged her to listen to them. There was danger, there was peril, there was something horribly, horribly wrong with the world.
Will you give it to me?
Vinyl’s mind quickly descended into a twisted lump of panicked impulses and hazardous thoughts. However, one concrete idea managed to rise above the turmoil, finally reaching what remained of the Unicorn’s rapidly degrading consciousness. A solitary notion, a single thought: What if that fog could come inside…
Will you give it to me?
There are few motivations stronger than life-threatening terror. Moving faster than she thought possible, Vinyl found herself sprinting across the room, hurtling past her kitchen, past her bed, desperately searching for the one thing that might provide some modicum of safety from the onslaught of darkness, some bastion of protection from the fear pounding through her skull. Slamming into the wall, she frantically brought up a trembling hoof, dashing it against the plaster until it finally connected with a nub of plastic. An audible click filled the room, accompanying the whir of electricity ripping through copper filaments. Light, blessed light, fell from the lamps hung from the ceiling, showering the panicked pony with their blinding rays, dispersing the waves of paranoia that consumed her thoughts. Gently laying her head against the wall, Vinyl felt her ragged breathing return to a more normal rhythm, her fluttering heart beginning to slow. She was safe now, nothing could touch her, the dark couldn’t break through the light. She was safe, she was fine, it was going to be okay…
When suddenly it changes!
Unable to speak, Vinyl stared in shock at the smoky tendril floating beneath her, a finger of dark mist gently tracing its way round her hooves. Ignoring the scratch her horn tore in the wall, she twisted her head, frantically gawking at the rest of the room. Her lungs stopped moving as she silently stared at the coils of fog wrapping their way around her apartment, encircling her bed, crawling into the kitchen, covering her turn tables. Her heart plummeted, descending into that unknown abyss between fear and sanity. Blindly rushing backwards, backpedaling away from the immaterial intruders, Vinyl fled from the fear, from the dark, from the madness. Her motion only faltered when she felt herself collide with something cold and unforgiving, a sharp crack tearing through her ears. Turning, Vinyl gazed into the splintered remains of the mirror behind her, fissures running through its previously flawless surface.
Violently it changes!
Crimson eyes were inexplicably drawn to the broken mirror, scanning the shattered reflection held within. Two blood-red eyes, each spread wide with fear. A single horn, unable to conjure a glow of magic in its time of need. A lone mouth, its corners twisted upwards in a smile… no. No, that wasn’t right. That was wrong. That was so, so wrong.
…In me!!!!!!!!!
Unable to move, unable to speak, unable to breathe, Vinyl stared at the pony in the mirror, its image split and fractured, its mouth spreading wider and wider, into some perverse facsimile of a grin. Splintered eyes flared wide, no longer clouded by fear, but filled with some unspeakable emotion, something like joy, something like anger, something like ecstasy, something like hatred. Incapable of blinking, of tearing her eyes away from the sight, Vinyl watched as the pony began bobbing her head, moving it in time with a hypnotic beat, her mouth tearing itself open, roaring something in a guttural, primal voice. Words that Vinyl had never heard before echoed through her ears, a harsh, grating chant.
GET UP, COME ON GET DOWN WITH THE SICKNESS!
It tore through her shroud of fear, resonating with something hidden deep within her soul.
GET UP, COME ON GET DOWN WITH THE SICKNESS!
Words that sounded so wrong, but that felt so good.
GET UP, COME ON GET DOWN WITH THE SICKNESS!
The pony in the mirror brought up her forehooves, reaching them towards the glass barrier between her and Vinyl. It barely registered to Vinyl that there was no way the appendages could have passed through the barrier, as they gently latched onto her shoulders. Her eyes were locked on those of the cracked and broken pony. They bobbed up and down in time with their master’s head, dancing with a forbidden light, shining with an unknowable energy.
Suddenly, their motion stopped. The pony in the mirror ceased her movements and closed her mouth, simply staring at Vinyl with those bloody, impossible eyes. For what might have been seconds, hours, or years, the two ponies stared at each other, neither moving a muscle, neither uttering a sound.
Finally, the pony in the mirror spoke again. The voice that wafted into Vinyl’s ears was not her own, nor some vile perversion of it. It was not some harsh cry, but an even, calculated tone. It was an ancient voice, one that spoke of millennia of life, that told a story of utter happiness and complete despair. It was a voice that Vinyl had never heard before, would never hear again, and would never, ever, forget.
“Take it.”
With a sudden jerk, the pony in the mirror yanked Vinyl towards her, pulling the Unicorn closer with hooves that should not have existed. As Vinyl slammed into the already cracked mirror, further shattering it, a burst of light erupted from her horn, tearing through the room, smashing windows and breaking lights. Suddenly released from her captor’s grip, Vinyl fell back, landing on her side as red streams ran down her ivory forehead, a few shards of glass stuck to her skin.
For a long moment, Vinyl lay there, a small puddle of crimson accruing between her cheek and the floor. Then, with an easy shifting of her limbs, the alabaster Unicorn rose to her hooves, staring once more at the irreparably damaged portal before her. A twisted shape looked back, a lopsided mouth set on a polar-white muzzle stained with drops of red, jagged holes where the eyes should have been. For a while, neither moved. Then, the pony in the mirror smiled, its mouth spreading into an impossibly wide grin.
Vinyl Scratch smiled back, words slipping from her mouth, tinged with a primal tone. “Madness is the gift that has been given to me.”
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A/N:
So, after writing this, it's become painfully clear that I need a pre-reader. Anyone interested? And, as always, comments, criticisms, and complaints are always welcome.
My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, and the character DJ Pon3 are the property of Hasbro, the Hub, and Lauren Faust.
Spin that Record Vinyl Scratch is the property of KeepOnRockingBrony.
Get Down With the Sickness is the property of Disturbed.
Side Story: The Madman
That wasn’t Mommy, that wasn’t Mommy, that wasn’t Mommy, that wasn’t Mommy…
The three words looped through the filly’s mind, endlessly repeating. She couldn’t escape their grasp, no matter how fast she ran, her hooves clattering against Trotingham’s cobblestones. The words followed her, sinking their claws into her head, unrelenting and terrible. What was far worse than the words, however, was the image that accompanied them. That horrifying creature, dressed in her mother’s rosy coat and golden mane. That terrifying apparition, looking at her with those dead, dancing eyes, smiling at her with those gleaming, wickedly sharp fangsDon’t think about it, don’t think about it, don’t think about it…
Her mind chanting this new mantra, the pink filly dashed on, struggling to blink away the tears that clouded her vision, ruby mane and tail flapping in the wind as her hooves slammed into the ground again and again. Thoughts consumed by terror, she cared little for where she ran, only that she left that thing in her house far, far behind. It was a twisted, rambling path she took, hurrying through streets and alleys, running, always running.
The fog made it hard to see, impairing her already tear-stained vision. It wisped about her, clutching at her with its immaterial grip, suffocating her with its overwhelming volume. But the fog was nothing, nothing, compared to what lay inside it. Shapes moving through the mist, looking, sounding, feeling just like ponies as they reached out for her, hooves tearing through the dark clouds that surrounded them.
But the filly knew better. There were no ponies in the streets today. There were only monsters, creatures like the one that wasn’t her mother. Today, she was alone. All alone.
On a sudden impulse, the foal turned into a particularly darkened alleyway, silently praying with every ragged breath that she would find safety, solitude in its embrace. He pleas went unanswered, however, as her hoof snagged on a loose stone, flying out from under her. The filly tumbled painfully to the street, legs and sides scrapping on the rough ground beneath her. As she finally slid to a stop, her exhaustion suddenly caught up to her, weighing down her limbs with its remorseless burden. Struggling against bonds of fatigue, the filly tried to rise to her feet, forcing herself halfway up before collapsing yet again, her meager strength abandoning her. So she lay there, in that dirty, dark alleyway, lost in her terror-filled world. Small rivulets of water ran down her cheeks as she struggled to hold back the sobs, her tiny body convulsing with shudders.
Tear-stained eyes are not the best tools for observing your surroundings, so the filly failed to notice the oddity that resided in the alleyway. Not the cluster of rubbish-bins, not the pile of half-rotted crates, nor the group of shattered bottles, but a large, deep-blue box. A box that, had the filly been looking at it, would have seemed to mysteriously repel the misty darkness, creating a small haven of air and light. A box, whose frosted windows, for a single, brief moment, glowed with a strange burst of golden light, before fading back to their off-white tint. A box that simply stood there, its scratched and worn surface seemingly beginning to repair itself. A box, whose doors suddenly slammed open, a dark silhouette emerging from within, haphazardly galloping towards the suddenly alert filly.
Panic forced the foal to find new strength; rising on legs that no longer screamed in protest, she prepared to resume her flight, to escape this new danger. But she was far, far too late. The shape had already reached her, grabbing at her with incredibly fast movements, catching her around the shoulders. A scream of terror tore from the filly’s lips as the monster wrapped its legs around her. Sobbing, she squeezed her eyes shut, expecting to feel razor fangs tearing through her flesh, serrated claws ripping her in two. She was not expecting, however, to feel an embrace of comfort, to hear gentle words whispered into her laid-back ears.
“Shh, shhhhhhhh. It’ll be alright, it’ll be alright. I promise.”
The filly found herself being pressed against a furry chest, felt a pair of legs protectively wrapped around her tiny body. Their grip was strong, but soft, the body tensed, but warm. As she slowly began to calm her struggles, the filly heard a gentle tone rumbling through her ears, a stallion’s whispering voice feeding her words of comfort. “I’ve got you, I’ve got you. It’s okay, no one’s going to hurt you. It’s going to be alright, I’ve got you.”
Trembling slightly, the filly opened her glistening eyes. Turning her gaze upward, she stared at the stallion that held her in his tight embrace. An amber form filled her vision, its touch warm and wholesome. A kind face smiled back at her, the visage ringed by a mane of chocolate hair. A pair of ice-blue orbs stared into her eyes, full of compassion and care. They were old eyes, eyes that spoke of peace, eyes that sang of hope, eyes that told a story both new and ancient. They were eyes that the filly trusted, eyes that she somehow knew would keep her safe. So, she buried her muzzle into the stallion’s shoulders, and let the tears fun free. She sobbed into her savior’s loving hold, gasping out words as she did.
“There w-was something wrong with Mo-Mommy when I woke up. And, and then, there were all these monsters, and they were all chasing me, and, and…”
“Hey, hey, shhhh. It’s okay, I won’t let the monsters get you. I’ve got you; you’re safe now.”
The freezing terror that still clawed at the filly’s heart told her that the stallion was lying, that he was tricking her, trying to trap her so he could get her. Horrible thoughts traipsed through her mind, images of her body broken and mangled, pictures of the stallion smiling at her with horrible fangs, just like her mommy. But, the words that the stallion spoke, the words that flowed through her ears woke something else within her, something warm, something strong, something bright. “Do you know what always helped me when I was scared? Stories. Would you like me to tell you one?”
Sniffing, the filly managed a small nod. The smile that crossed the stallion’s features seemed to glow brighter, a twinkle filling his ancient eyes. “Alright, here we go then. Now, a very, very long time ago, there was a, uh…” For a moment, the stallion seemed to lose his focus, glancing at both his own body and the filly still clutched in his hooves. Shrugging his shoulders, the stallion shook his head, and continued.
“There was a very clever, err, pony. Now, this pony was a special pony, because, you see, he had a very special box.” Glancing down at the filly, the stallion noted that her tears seemed to be slowing, her sobs growing less frequent. “Now, can you guess why it was so special?” The filly gave a small shake of her head, eliciting a chuckle from her chestnut guardian. “Well, you see, it was a magic box, with all kinds of amazing powers! It could jump across the land, soar through the sky, and, if the pony was really lucky, it would be able to carry a few friends as well. So, the clever pony and his magic box went on a grand adventure, dancing across the stars…”
The brown stallion told his story. He told of journeys to distant places, of battles lost and wars won, of friendships made and companions gained. He talked of impossible sights, of ferocious monsters and wicked creatures, of beautiful scenes and awe-inspiring voyages. For what felt like hours to the little filly, she listened as her guardian talked and talked, her imagination gorging itself on images of a handsome, heroic, clever stallion and his wonderful, impossible box. The terror that had ravaged her heart and mind, that had torn her away from her peaceful life, slowly began to fade away, gradually replaced by a sense of wonder and joy. For the most part, she was content to listen to her protector, to drink in his amazing tale. But, once, when the stallion had reached a particularly dramatic point (Involving several devious, ruthless enemies, a forsaken world, and a copy of the clever pony of all things), she asked a question in a trembling voice.
“B-but, wasn’t he scared? All those monsters, and it was only him and his friends, all alone. How did he stay brave?”
The stallion, poised to continue the story, was lost in thought for a moment. Then, his eyes brightened, and he gave the filly another small smile. “Tell me, do you know why the pony traveled with so many friends? Do you know why he didn’t just go by himself, on all those fantastic adventures?”
“Be-because he was lonely?”
An icy-blue eye winked at the filly, as the stallion continued. “Well, yes. Of course he was lonely. But, there was another reason he had all those friends. You see, everywhere the pony went, all of the ponies he met, all of the creatures he helped, they all trusted him. They all believed, with all their hearts, that he would save them, that he would stop the monster, fix the problem, rescue the little filly that needed saving,” he said as he lightly poked his audience on the tip of her nose. “But, that wasn’t enough for the pony. It wasn’t enough that everyone believed in him, he needed someone to believe in.
“And he found them. All his friends, all his companions and allies, he trusted them with every fiber of his being. They all believed in each other, helping each other, inspiring each other to reach higher and higher. They stuck together, and together they won.
“If there’s one lesson that the pony learned on all his travels, it was that friends make anything possible. You can fight against impossible odds, face ferocious foes, and always win. That’s what friends can do for you. That’s what the pony needed.”
As the stallion continued his story, the filly slowly felt her eyelids grow heavy. The exhaustion that had plagued her tiny body softly returned, lulling her into a gentle doze. As her eyes began to flutter shut, she asked the stallion a final question.
“Mister, will you be my friend?”
If the filly had possessed the energy to look up, she might have noticed the twinkling mist that filled the stallion’s eyes. Instead, she only heard his tender response, as she fell into sleep’s comfortable embrace. “Of course I will.” Arching his neck, the hazel colored stallion nuzzled the slumbering foal. “Dream well.”
And so, the filly dreamed. Not of sweetshops or dancing, not of games or playgrounds, not of dresses or crowns. She dreamed she was in an impossible box, dyed the most perfect shade of blue. She dreamed of a heroic stallion, leaping across the skies of a thousand worlds. She dreamed of herself, running alongside him, on a journey that lasted forever and a day.
The stallion, seeing that his charge was fast asleep, allowed his ever-present smile to fade away, replaced with a visage of grim resolve. His eyes, the orbs that had been so full of mirth and cheer, hardened, steeling themselves with untold measures of rage and fury. Determinedly, albeit somewhat unsteadily, he rose to his hooves, awkwardly locking his legs in place, leaning against the brick wall of the alleyway for support. His limbs finally positioned correctly, he glared at the dark fog that still flitted around the area, as though daring it to attack him. Harsh words fell from his lips, tinged with wrath and anger, in sharp contrast to his earlier tone.
“I know you’re there. I can feel you, trying to rip my mind apart. Let me tell you, that’s a very, VERY, bad idea. So, listen up. I have had an incredibly bad day. I’m tired, I’m lost, and for some strange reason, I’M A BLOODY PONY. So, come on, let’s get this over with. Where are you, and what do you want?”
Almost as though it were responding to his words, the fog shifted, flowing in strange patterns and arcane swirls. All the smog that had filled the alley smoothly folded itself into one incorporeal mass, a swirling pool of obsidian and ebony, blocking off the passage’s sole exit but leaving a small haven of clear air for the two ponies and the strange box. At least, it was clear until the cloud started moving forward, inching its way towards the equine figures.
Stumbling slightly, the stallion pushed off the wall, coming to an awkward stop directly in front of the slumbering filly. Hunching his shoulders, the stallion leaned forward protectively, as though preparing to charge the shifting cloud of darkness spread out before him, as it doggedly slid closer and closer.
“I swear by every star in the sky, if you touch her, I will make you pay. Now, you will tell me, what do you want.”
They simply stood there, the stallion and the cloud, neither one advancing or retreating, locked in a motionless dance. For what may have been hours or seconds, the two parties stayed their hooves, waiting for an unspoken signal, a sign of what to do. Then, the stallion heard the voice. The voice that did not travel through his ears, but that clearly resonated in his thoughts, ripping through his mind like a thunderbolt. It was a terrible voice, full of loathing and spite. It was a wonderful voice, full of beauty and strength. It was an ancient voice, one that spoke of eons of life.
Who are you?
The stallion’s hackles raised as the voice echoed within his head, its simple question digging through his thoughts, tearing through his memories, hurtling deep into his heart. Had he been a normal pony, there was no doubt the stallion would have suffered unknowable agony as the voice ripped through him, as he witnessed his soul being laid bare before the mental onslaught. However, by no means was he a normal pony. Closing his eyes, the stallion allowed a soft whisper to escape his lips, his words gently floating through the alley, full of immeasurable strength and power.
“To be honest, I’m not entirely sure about that yet; still working on figuring out who this one is. But,” he continued, glacier tinted orbs snapping open, burning with the rage of a thousand suns, “I do know this much. I like my friends. And anyone, anyone, that tries to hurt them will suffer.”
The slowly roiling mass of darkness paused for a moment, its movement halted. The stallion winced as the voice again resonated through him, ripping through his mind like a frozen blade, incredibly cold and brilliantly sharp.
A warrior? A monster? A god?
The stallion struggled to respond, his breathing becoming slow and ragged from strain. However, his voice still held that feeling of indomitable courage, utter recklessness, and just a hint of madness. “Those, and so many, many more. If you want me to list all my titles, we’ll be here for a very long time.”
For the third time, the voice rang through the stallion’s mind. However, the anguish that had accompanied it had faded away; no longer did the struggling pony feel his thoughts torn away, nor his soul being stung by countless blades.
Why do you fight?
For an instant, the stallion’s pain and exhaustion disappeared. Bracing his legs against the gritty cobblestones, he stretched his neck and head, rising to his full height. His chocolate mane clung to his sweaty flesh, his sepia coat ruffled and dirty, yet still glowing with life. But nothing shown brighter than his eyes, twin spheres of ageless majesty and compassion. When he spoke, gone were his tones of rage and hate, replaced by a feeling of truth and care.
“Because I don’t want anyone else to suffer.”
Again, silence overtook the alleyway, broken only by the steady, quiet breaths of the slumbering foal. For the final time, the voice spoke.
Go. Save her, and don’t look back.
The darkness began to draw back, leaving the alley clear of its presence. The sorrel pony took a step forward, a hoof extended towards the retreating cloud, his mouth opening to shout out. However, the rapid movement caused him to lose his balance; he fell onto the rough ground beneath him, body splayed out awkwardly. “Tch. Guess I’m not in any position to complain, eh?”
For what felt like ages, the stallion lay there, allowing the exhaustion to fade from his limbs. Again, he struggled to his feet, this time without the aid of a wall. Though his steps were maladroit and clumsy, he managed to wobble his way back towards the tiny form peacefully sleeping behind him. After a few trial and error sessions, the stallion managed to lift the filly onto his back, her small weight nearly toppling him over. Through a combination of gravitational force, a perfectly-timed breeze, and some well-placed trash cans, the amber coated stallion managed to walk to the box he had emerged from earlier, its windows now glowing with a hint of light.
A sharp tapping noise filled the alley as a hoof clattered against the stone beneath it. As though in response, a click echoed about the passage as the box’s doors swung inward, acting under some unseen force. “Oh, lovely. Now you’re working; I could have used some help earlier you know. Come on, we’ve got a guest.”
Stepping inside the blue box, the stallion and his passenger disappeared, the doors swinging shut as another tap resonated through the air. For a moment, the alley was still, devoid of sound or movement. Then, its silence was broken, for the final time, by the whirring of some strange engine, by a sound akin to the heartbeat of the universe. The box began to fade away, its once solid form becoming ethereal and transparent. With a final whir, the blue box disappeared from the alley.
After a moment, the darkness came back.
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My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, and the character "Doctor Whooves" are the property of Hasbro and the Hub.
Doctor Who is the property of the BBC.