//------------------------------// // Chapter 21: A Glimpse Of Arrival // Story: Heir To Darkness // by Leafdoggy //------------------------------// Pinkie stood in the eye of a dense storm of fog. All around her, walls of white too thick to see through rose up to the sky, and even arced overhead to blot out the stars above. Beyond the fog stood a dense, dark forest, but she only knew this from experience. From where she stood, her entire world was the rickety little platform that trains only stopped at if they were asked to. It was poorly maintained, made with rotting boards that had long since fallen through in several places. The railing around the edge of the platform existed only as a long-forgotten memory, just a few posts stuck haphazardly into the soft ground around the platform, and the little ticket booth had never once been occupied by a pony. At the moment it served only as a perch from which a group of crows watched Pinkie with curious eyes. Pinkie wasn’t shocked to find Bramble waiting when she stepped off the platform. She also wasn’t interested, though, and just walked past them towards the foggy depths. Moving through the fog was like stepping into a sauna, except it didn’t have the same heat. The air was just hard to move through, it gave just enough resistance that pushing through it felt like it should have come with a real, tangible pressure, even though it didn’t. It weighed down on Pinkie, pushed her ever deeper into the peat that her hooves sank into with every step, and it was so wet that she felt like she was sweating despite the nighttime chill in the air. As always, Bramble was there whenever she turned her head. “If you stay at the platform, I can alert The Driver of your arrival,” they said. “I don’t need him,” Pinkie replied. She’d long since abandoned pretending to keep eye contact with Bramble’s effigies, and instead kept her gaze glued to her hooves. “This area is dangerous at night,” Bramble argued. “Don’t care.” “You should. You could be seriously injured.” Pinkie huffed. “So?” “The risk is unnecessary. Just return to the platform, and—” “I’m not going back!” Pinkie snapped at them. “If you don’t like how I’m getting there, you can leave at any time.” “I would like you to stay safe, Pinkamena.” They thought for a moment. “I will attempt to keep you safe, but you should be prepared to flee.” “Mm,” Pinkie grumbled. They traveled in silence for some time. Nocturnal creatures made noise all around them, hidden safely in the fog. Pinkie’s hooves squelched in the wet ground, and the wind whistled ominously through the trees. All through the hike, the only other living creatures Pinkie saw were crows, which sat perched on most trees she passed with their gazes trained on her. Hours passed like that. Pinkie never stopped to rest, didn’t strike up conversation, and only at Bramble’s insistence did she stop once at a creek to take a drink of water. She ignored her stomach when it rumbled, disregarded her legs when they ached. She had only one goal, and nothing would keep her from it. It was deep into the night when she finally broke free of the everlasting fog. The town seemed oddly quiet to her. She didn’t hear the usual sounds of revelry and excitement that so often poured out onto the streets at night, and even the crier seemed to be speaking in hushed tones. Even the guards outside were standing silent at their posts, whereas normally they would have been grouped up and chatting. Everything looked normal, though. The long, sturdy cobblestone wall stood as strong and proud as ever, confidently sporting the patchy gray coloring that came with its location, along with the moss and vines that so readily climbed its sides. The massive wooden doors were shut tight, so carefully fit together that they looked like a solid, seamless mass of wood. It was the same Trotsylvania she’d always known. The door was flanked by two guards, although one of them had fallen asleep at their post. Pinkie walked up to the other wordlessly. “Well, hey Pinkie,” the guard said. He was a tall white stallion who would have looked more at home in Canterlot’s royal guard, but the polished sheen that his old, well-used armor had gave the impression that he was proud of his work. “You walk here?” “Mm-hm,” Pinkie hummed. The guard pursed his lips. “Hey, uh, you alright there, pal?” “Mm-hm.” “Well… If you say so.” He stepped over to the door and pushed it open for her. “Go ahead on in.” “Thanks…” Pinkie didn’t look up at him as she trudged on through the open door and into town. The streets were empty. The streetlights flickered down onto the dusty roads, but no hooves kicked that dust into the air. The crier was sitting calmly on the edge of his stage, having what seemed to be a normal conversation with the two ponies who were still there. Every so often the hints of life would sound from somewhere, a door would close or someone would speak just loudly enough to be heard for a brief moment, but those moments were few and far between. Pinkie ignored the crier. She walked straight down to the castle gate, which was being guarded militantly. “Evening, Pinkie,” one of the guards said. She gave Pinkie a kind smile. “I didn’t think you’d come through this way. I figured they’d fly you in around back.” Pinkie shrugged. “Well,” the guard continued, “I’m sure you’re pretty eager to see The Heiress, huh?” Pinkie gave her a strange look. “Is… Is that Fluttershy?” “Ohh, yeah, you wouldn’t know. Yeah, The Lady decided to give her a title.” “Oh.” Pinkie looked down and spoke under her breath. “How much did I miss?” The guard put a hoof on Pinkie’s shoulder reassuringly. “Hey, I bet she’s gonna be super happy to see you. She’s in the vampires’ guild right now.” Pinkie frowned. “They don’t let me in there, though.” “Oh, yeah…” The guard hummed softly, then stepped aside, and the other guard followed suit. “Well, why don’t you go on in and wait for her? They gave her The Architect’s old room, up at the top. Which, uh…” She looked pointedly at Pinkie’s lack of wings. “Maybe you could have someone carry you up?” “I can get up there,” Pinkie said, and without waiting for a response she walked through the gate and into the castle grounds. They were as empty as the town, although here it was normal. Some of the creatures that worked in the castle liked to go out at night, but they’d go into town, to the plaza or the tavern where they would meet their friends. There was no reason to stay holed up in the castle grounds when they weren’t working, so at night the large, well-kept fields became home to smaller critters and, occasionally, things that escaped from the gardens. Pinkie made her way quickly up to the castle and pushed through the heavy doors.  The first thing she noticed when she walked into the grand hall was the light. She knew Dracula usually kept the room dark at night, so being greeted with enough light to see by was odd, to say the least. The second thing she noticed was the sound of frantic, tiny wings flapping as hard as they could and a much larger creature grumbling in frustration. The scene that greeted her was a strange one. Dracula was standing in the middle of the room, her cloak ragged and stained with blood, holding a cockatrice awkwardly with one leg. “Um…” Pinkie couldn’t think of anything to say. Dracula’s glare shot towards Pinkie, and she gave a disgusted scoff. “Great. Who brought you here?” “I decided to come on my own,” Pinkie said. “I thought I was clear before,” Dracula said. “You are forbidden from entering this castle, this town, unless you’re giving The Heiress your blood. Tell me, Pinkamena, have you done that yet?” “I couldn’t get to her,” Pinkie said. “If she bites anypony, though, she’ll want me here so it can be me.” “And why should I give her what she wants if she’s not able to do what is necessary for it? I told her how to bring you here, and she said no.” “What if she changes her mind, though?” “Dracula cannot be indecisive. She lost her chance.” Pinkie frowned. “Well, I’m not leaving.” Dracula narrowed her eyes. “Please, by all means, give me an excuse to make you leave. I would relish the opportunity.” “I’ll just come back.” “I could tear you limb from limb with a thought, girl. Do not test me.” “I’m not scared of bullies,” Pinkie told her. “You should be.” Dracula huffed and turned away from her. “Fine. If you insist on being in my castle, at least make yourself useful.” She floated the cockatrice across the room. It stared up at Pinkie as she set it gently on the ground. “Take this thing into the depths and find its nest.” Pinkie looked down at the bird, then reached down and gently pet it. It nuzzled into her affectionately. When she looked back up, Dracula was gone. Pinkie knew the castle well. She’d spent enough time roaming its halls, meeting the creatures that lived there and playing games, that she didn’t even have to think about which way she was going anymore. Her hooves just set her on the right path, and before she knew it she’d be at her destination. The bird strutted alongside her the entire way. It squawked and flapped its wings noisily, which to Pinkie made it look excited. She knew it was probably just excited to be going home, but she found some solace in the idea that maybe it was enjoying being with her. It took only a few minutes to descend the dark, uneven steps into the dungeons. It was a strange place, cobbled together room by room from rough stone specifically to suit whoever the room was being made for, which meant that nothing was uniformly built. The ceiling would raise or lower on a whim, the walls could close in at any time, and in some places the floor would slope up or down into steep hills. The halls looped up and around themselves, giving the feeling that the layout shouldn’t have been possible, and aside from the dimensions it was all completely identical. Yellowed stone walls, rough to the touch, curved up and in to meet the ceiling. Dying torches lit the walls. The cold stone of the floor, which was mostly stomped flat by centuries of traffic, were covered in stones and pebbles kicked up by the less gentle denizens of this level. Altogether, the winding, twisting halls had the uncanny ability to make every new path feel familiar, just enough for whoever was traveling the halls to ask themselves if maybe they had gone that way already. Perhaps, they would think, they’d simply been walking in circles through shifting hallways that at any point could decide to end the charade and close in on them. Pinkie found it very difficult to be unsettled by any of it thanks to the unceasingly noisy bird walking with her. Once they were in the dungeons, the bird mostly took the lead. It seemed to know the way, but it still checked constantly to see if Pinkie was still there. If they drifted too far apart, it would stop and wait until she walked up to it before leading her further. If she hesitated, it would squawk angrily, making it perfectly clear it was unwilling to go on without her company. Pinkie didn’t mind, though. The dungeons were peaceful, and once she’d started thinking of them as homes for creatures of all sorts, they had endeared themselves to her. She was, on some level, glad to have the excuse to take a stroll through them. It was destined to end eventually, though, and Pinkie felt a pang of disappointment when the cockatrice brought her to a low alcove with a nest inside. The little nook had been dug straight into the wall, and the nest seemed to be made of the scraps of stone left over from that process piled up in a rough circle. It was sharp and jagged, but the bird seemed happy to crawl right into it and settle down. Pinkie watched it lie there for a few minutes. She knew she had to get back upstairs so that she could be there when Fluttershy got back, but it was so peaceful and calm that she didn’t want to leave. Part of her wanted to just lie down and take a nap right there. She pushed that part aside, though, and turned to head back upstairs. As she turned, though, she tripped on something, and barely caught herself before she fell to the ground. She tried to spin around so she could kick whatever had tripped her in frustration, but her legs didn’t seem to want to respond to her. Confused, she looked back to figure out what had happened. Slowly, but steadily and without stopping, her leg was beginning to turn to stone.