The Countess


                                            I'll be adding to this story until complete.

                                            Updated: 05 Nov. 2023


                                            In a sleeper car, on a train, on its way to Cartpathia:

                                            >Anon closed his book and placed it on the table. He picked up his tea and sipped it while he gazed out the window into the rainstorm.

                                            “Hmmm”. It was pine needle tea, the favored type in these parts of Equestria, and very different from what was typical at Canterlot Palace.

                                            >The countryside flew by past the window as the train clattered on. A day ago it has had been charming little farms and hamlets; they looked very foreign and mysterious to his eye indeed.

                                            >Now, as the train proceeded on its journey through the Trottersvania Range and onward to Cartpathia, the scenery had become mountainous and rocky. As the altitude increased, the mountains and murky forests were often shrouded in mist and clouds that hung remarkably close to the ground. Only an occasional lonely cottage signaled any presence other than wildlife.

                                            >Dusk was eminent and flames now filled the gas powered lampposts along the tracks. They periodical whizzed past the windows like wayward will-o-the-wisps dashing through the miasma of rain and mist in search of travelers to bamboozle..

                                            Anon reached into his pocket and extracted two folded papers. He read from the first: “To Her Most Esteemed Highness, Princess Luna. On behalf of the entirety of Murkoz, the City Council cordially and humbly invites you to attend our Nightmare Night festival. Our festival is steeped in depth, uniqueness, and tradition from centuries past. We are certain you will enjoy it and that the grace of your presence will bring joy and excitement to our residents. Many of our residents are anxious to meet you and celebrate your return as Princess of The Night. We await your gracious response. -Servant of the Two Crowns and Mayor of Murkoz, Sturdy Branch.

                                            >Anon shifted the other paper into view and read it over; instructions from Princess Luna, written herself in her elegant calligraphy. She had accepted the invitation and sent her response, but she decided to send him a few days earlier to prepare everything for her arrival.

                                            >It was fine. He was her assistant, after all. However, he was entirely unfamiliar with this part of Equestria. The book he had been reading, “Eastern Equestria and its Ponies”, had been a suggestion from Princess Luna to help him know what to expect.

                                            >Laying his reading glasses atop the book, Anon examined the cabin once more. It had a distinctly eastern flair. Dark wood with ornate scrollwork, painted with gold highlights, was ubiquitous. Carved panels of the same wood, depicting scenes from forests and villages, lined the walls at the floor and ceiling. Red wallpaper with golden floral designs covered the wall between the panels and a few small paintings of what seemed to be historical figures in curious uniforms and dramatic poses finished it off. It was cozy, and fascinating to look at.

                                            >Anon looked over at the bat pony family that was sharing the sleeper car with him. He imagined he would see more bat ponies now since Cartpathia was a locus of their population. The parents were asleep on the sofa, which doubled as a bed], while their filly played with little figurines of knights, wizards, and members of the Royal Court. He noticed her pick up a figurine of Luna.

                                            “You know, I work for her.” said Anon with a proud smile.

                                            >The filly gasped. “REALLY?! You work for Princess Luna?”

                                            “Yep! Look, here’s her letter of instructions to me.” Anon showed her the letter, feeling prideful in the opportunity to show off Luna’s beautiful penmanship. Plus, the paper had an ethereal silver sparkle to it, probably imparted by a touch of Luna’s magic.

                                            >”Wow! Pretty! What’dya need instructions for, mister?”

                                            “Well, I’m on my way to Murkoz to get everything ready for her to visit during Nightmare Night. So, she gave me a To Do list, of sorts.”

                                            >The filly gasped again. “Princess Luna is gonna visit Murkoz?! That’s where we live! Will I get to meet her?!”

                                            “Oh, sure! Princess Luna loves meeting her subjects. She’ll probably play games with everypony at the festival too!”

                                            >After a moment of wide-eyed, astonishment, the filly broke into giggles before addressing Anon again. “Hey mister, what’s she like?…Princess Luna I mean.”

                                            Anon spoke in a whisper and gestured dramatically as he explained. “Well, she’s as gorgeous as the moon and night sky themselves, and as mysterious as the shadows in the forest. She’s kind, and gentle, and generous. And do you know what else?”

                                            >”What?!” asked the excited filly.

                                            “She’s got the ENTIRE universe in her mane and tail! And that’s not all! She can visit the dream world whenever she wants!”

                                            >The filly responded in a reverent whisper. “Woah! The WHOLE cosmos? Even the planets? Even the galaxies? Could she even visit my dreams?”

                                            “Yes, yes, yes, and yes!”

                                            >”Wow!”

                                            Anon smiled at the effect this produced on the filly. He got up with his tea cup and spoke as he refilled his cup at the installed silver samovar near the entrance to the cabin. “You’ll get to meet her soon. Promise!”

                                            >”Can’t wait!” replied the filly.

                                            Anon sat back down and watched as the filly now arranged an entourage of knight and wizard figurines to accompany the Princess Luna figurine to Murkoz. He smiled and turned to the window as he enjoyed the tea. “Hmm. I should bring some of this back with me.”

                                            >Night had fallen, the rainstorm had passed, and the window now revealed scenes of moonlit forest, mountains, mist, and periodically passing lamp posts. Presently, he finished his tea and dozed off to the relaxing vibrations of the train.


                                            The Murkoz Train Station:

                                            >”Ehem! Sir?...Sir?” The earth pony attendant asked in vain, for Anon was fast asleep. Rolling his eyes in annoyance, the attendant reached out a hoof and shook the strange non-pony from its slumber. “Sir! Please wake up.”

                                            Anon drew in a deep breath as he awoke. Blurry-eyed at first, the cabin slowly came back into focus in the dim light lantern light. The bat pony family had gone and the only other creature there was the attendant, a handsome stallion in a dark blue and silver uniform and gold chained pocket watch.

                                            >This watch he now took out to show Anon. “Murkoz station, Sir. Is it not your stop? You only have a few minutes to disembark before the train leaves this station behind.”

                                            Anon, still groggy, was dumbfounded for a moment. Then realization shook him. “Oh! Yes, right! Thank you ever so much! Foolish of me to oversleep like that.” Anon leapt to his feet and gathered up his things; a rucksack and two medium sized duffle bags. He snatched a mechanical alarm clock, the one he had forgotten to wind and set, from the table and tossed it with abandon into one of the duffle bags.

                                            >The attendant observed this activity with stoic patience. When Anon’s preparations seemed complete, the attendant smiled. “Ready? Follow me, if you please.”

                                            Anon began to follow but paused momentarily when something caught his eye. It was the little figurine of Princess Luna the bat pony filly had been playing with, wedged between two sofa cushions. “Hmm? She must have forgotten it.” Anon plucked it from its predicament and turned it over in his hand, admiring the craftsmanship.

                                            >”Coming, sir?” the attendant asked.

                                            Stuffing the figurine into his pocket, Anon replied. “Yeah!”

                                            >In a moment, and in the swirl of confusion that goes with jumping directly into activity after waking up, Anon found himself on the platform.

                                            >Steam from the locomotive filled the air; it swirled about the flickering lamp posts. A conductor was walking the platform from the locomotive to the caboose. “All aboard! Next stop, Capra Mica! All aboard!”

                                            >His cry was made the more urgent by the ringing of the locomotive’s bell. “Ding-ding…ding-ding.”

                                            >In short order, the train pulled away in a din mechanical noise and swirling steam. A few seconds later all was still in the light of the crescent moon and the lamp posts, save an intermittent wind that rustled the trees nearby. Anon found himself alone.

                                            Looking about, Anon found the platform was not in the middle of a city as he had supposed, but in the midst of the forest. “Wonderful. Not expected at all. Which way is the right way?” I little searching revealed a sign with some direction arrows. “Let’s see here…Murkoz…That way.”

                                            >Anon looked down the path that his finger, in parallel with the arrow of the sign, pointed. It was cloaked in a foreboding darkness and mist. Anon, took a look at his own pocket watch.

                                            “Half-past eight. Plenty of time to make it to the city, I think.” Anon put on his rucksack, shouldered one of the duffle bags, picked up the other by the handle, and took a look down the valley. He could see the city dimly in the distance. “Yep, I’ll be there in no time!” Then he was off, walking down the path.


                                            On the path to Murkoz:

                                            >Luckily for Anon, the path to Murkoz was lighted by similar lamp posts that lined the tracks. It made the travel easy and provided enough light for him to admire the deep evergreen forest along the way. The smell of damp earth, pine, granite, and moss that hung in the air made it the more pleasing.

                                            >Unluckily for Anon, after an hour, or so, of walking, clouds began to gather once more. The little light that beamed from the crescent moon was gradually shut out. A fog came up as well, which grew thicker and thicker until Anon was forced to travel the path by following the light from the lamp posts. The breeze ceased, the air stilled, and all was silent except the crickets and owls.

                                            >Still, it was pleasantly mysterious in a way. And the fog was had a peculiar warmth to it. So, Anon trudged on.

                                            >He rounded a turn in the path that brought him to the next lamp. Stepping up to it, he peered into the mist and saw…nothing at all. No warm orange glow in the distance that would indicate the next lamp.

                                            >Anon stood for a moment. Accustomed to the lighted path, he now wondered. He turned and looked the way he had come. To his surprise, there were no indications of lighted lamps that way either. He stood on his little patch of earth, with his single glowing lamp post, isolated from the rest of the universe by the shroud of mist.

                                            Speaking to himself, as he sometimes did, Anon processed the situation. “Hmmm. What now? Where to?” He put a finger to his chin and thought a moment. “I suppose the fog will pass in a moment.” He reasoned that the cloud passing through must be at least halfway through given the density of the mist.

                                            >Anon, resolved to wait a moment. Finding a patch of moss, he sat down and took out a bag of nuts to snake on.

                                            >Anon hadn’t been sitting long when he noticed the darkness increasing. He looked up at the only source of light he had. The flame ha grown weaker and was diminishing as he watched.

                                            Anon implored the flame. “No. No, don’t do that. Come on, please stay lit. Please stay lit.” But, his pleading was in vain an the flame departed his presence, plunging him into darkness. “Perfect! Well, that’s just perfect!’ said in frustration.

                                            >Anon rummaged through his rucksack, certain that he had packed some candles. And his old lighter from when he still smoked on Earth might still be deep in one of the pockets.

                                            >The owls and crickets that seemed to be so pleasant before now seemed to be mocking his misfortune. And the fear of the unknown began to get under Anon’s skin.

                                            >He found no candles, but he did find the sheathed knife he had packed. This he fastened to his belt.

                                            >He continued rummaging, but gradually became aware of a growing light.

                                            “Great!, they must have relit the lamps.” He looked up at his particular lamp post. It was indeed lit. But, Anon was puzzled. Rather than the warm orange glow. The lantern exhibited a strange blue-green light.

                                            “Hmm? Why would they change the gas used for the lamps like that?” he mused.

                                            >Anon shrugged, gathered up his things and made his way to the next lamp post. As he stepped up to it he admired the workmanship. A black, fluted, iron column, with wrought iron cross-bars near the top in a swirly pattern. It was covered in golden floral designs and from the two loops of the cross-bars hung wind chimes that tinkled gently in a breeze that was now picking up.

                                            Anon examined his pocket watch. “Better get going. Already pretty late”. With that, Anon walked on, following the string of lamp posts that lined the trail.


                                            End of the Trail:

                                            >Anon continued following the lamp posts and gradually the mist became less dense. Yet, the forest became more murky and thick. He could see the silver outline of the moon above, but looking into the forest, it rapidly vanished into secretive darkness.

                                            >In truth, Anon was becoming worried. He had been on the trail for longer than expected. The eerie light of the lamp posts, the quiet fog, the darkness, and the sound of owls was beginning to get to him. He kicked himself for not thinking ahead to bring a map of the area.

                                            >As he came to yet another lamp post, a form began to emerge out of the fog. Coming closer he could see that it was a large wrought iron gate between two ornately carved granite columns. To either side, the fencing extended deep into the forest. The gate’s exquisite decoration spoke of untold wealth of the pony that owned it.

                                            >With no other option, and supposing it was perhaps the outer gate to the city, Anon pushed it open. Surprisingly, it made almost no sound.

                                            >Onward through the gate Anon walked, a little faster now as the city must surely be near.

                                            >Following the lamps, Anon came to a set of polished granite steps flanked by two lamps. Beyond that a the forest cleared away and Anon found himself on a terrace made up of tiles of the same polished stone. Inlay in the tiles formed beautifully repeating geometric patterns across the across the terrace.

                                            >Moving on to the next set of lamp posts and up more stairs, Anon found himself on another terrace. Clearing fog lent resolution to the scene. He could see that neatly manicured flower bushes lined the periphery along a low wall about thigh high. Oddly for the season the flowers were vibrantly in bloom in deep red hues. Fountains bubbled nearby on the terrace and trees grew, leafless in the Autumn season, from openings in the ground for that purpose.

                                            >Anon ascended another stair case, which seemed to also be the end point of the lamps. It wound up and switched backed as it snaked up the height.

                                            >The stairs disgorged him upon another terrace above the fog, where Anon stood transfixed at the scene before him. An enormous castle loomed, intriguing, imposing, and gorgeous in its own way.

                                            Now utterly confused, Anon looked around for signs of a city, but nothing. No city streets, nor lights, nor ponies out on evening strolls, nothing but stillness in the scant moonlight. Except that ravens now took over the task of breaking the silence. “What?!” Was all Anon could muster.

                                            >A few windows in the castle were lit.

                                            “Somebody must be home. I’ll just have to ask directions.” Anon reasoned with himself. He walked across the terrace, a labyrinth of gardens and granite stone pathways interspersed with statues and fountains. Here, the flowers bloomed deep red, as below.

                                            >Coming to the front staircase, Anon ascended to the two great oaken doors. As everything in this part of Equestria, these too were ornately carved and gilded with gold.

                                            >As Anon reached for the great iron door knocker, the nearly continuous raspy calls of the ravens in the garden fell deathly silent. Having just passed through a sense-sharpening forest, Anon took notice immediately and glanced over his shoulder. The ravens in the trees at the foot of the stairs were quietly watching him with their clever eyes. It was unnerving.

                                            “Wish I knew what was on their minds. Hmm, Princess Luna would know.” Anon whispered to himself; this seemed an occasion where whispering was appropriate and it calmed him a bit.

                                            >Anon, drew up the knocker and let it fall against the door thrice. The din it made could be heard echoing aimlessly through the room beyond, but it was ultimately consumed by the victorious silence.

                                            >An uncomfortable waiting followed. Anon glanced once more at the ravens, who yet watched intently. Nothing stirred.

                                            >In this emptiness, Anon debated whether to knock again. Presently, he made up his mind to try a second time. Yet, as he reached for the the knocker, he heard the lock shift to the open position.

                                            >Expecting the door to open, Anon waited, trying to look presentable. But no such courtesy was extended; the doors remained stubbornly shut, the night remained still as a crypt, and the ravens remained silent and watchful.

                                            >Curiosity and exasperation gave way to action as Anon decided to act.

                                            “Perhaps it is the custom that the guest opens the door? Anyway, it must have been unlocked with the intent to let me in.”

                                            >He readied to push the door open. A raven emitted a call, startling Anon for a moment, but it ended in a shill cry as the next raven on the branch gave him a severe peck. Anon furrowed his brow, steeled his nerves, pushed the door open, and timorously stepped inside. The ravens went back to discussing amongst themselves once he closed the door behind him.

                                            >The great room that presented itself to Anon was lit by a number of enormous, black, wrought-iron candelabras. Silently their candles burned and flickered away, with stalactites of wax hanging down. A grand fire place contained a substantial fire, which held the room at a very comfortable temperature. The candles and fireplace cast dancing, mischievous shadows about the room.

                                            >Looking around, Anon felt that it reminded him in some way of the Palace of Versailles, which he had toured in his youth. Only, this was smaller and the theme here was very definitely red. Paintings, tapestries, statues, displays of armor and weaponry adorned the walls; heavy dark oak furniture and exquisite rugs filled out the floor.

                                            Placing his bags neatly on a wooden bench by the door, Anon called out into the dancing shadows. “Hello? Is anypony there? I hope you don’t mind that I let myself in…Hello? I don’t mean to disturb you. I got a little turned around on the path through the forest and was looking for some directions to Murkoz” The shadows danced on, but gave no utterance in reply. “Curious.” he whispered, again to himself.

                                            >Anon stepped further into the room, looking to see perhaps if somepony was occupying any of the furniture. Nothing. Off the main room a number of dark passageways branched off. Into these he peered and called out timidly, likewise with no response. Not knowing what else to do, Anon sat on a sofa by the fire, thinking to await the appearance of his mysterious host.

                                            >It was at this moment that Anon began to hear music from somewhere above. The haunting, lilting tune, punctuated with heart wrenching dissonance and minor tones, filled the air and grew in volume until it was clearly discernible; each note somber, deep, and thick with emotion.

                                            >The kind of music Anon heard: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YlmPe335L2M

                                            >The contemplative mood impressed upon Anon by the music became irresistible, and a powerful desire took hold to follow it to its origin. The feeling welled up until it was overwhelming; the music called him, bade him follow the notes to their doleful maker.

                                            >Unable to stop himself, Anon obeyed. He stood and slowly followed the music up the nearby stairs, his mind awash in fear, apprehension, and something undefinable that overcame them both to pull him inexorably onward.

                                            >He pressed forward across the balcony above the stairs and through hallways lined with richly framed mirrors, and pillars which carried dimly flickering candles upon ornate holders. The mirrors reflected the candle flames and Anon into infinity. An occasional open window let in the moonlight through red curtains that fluttered in the night breeze.

                                            >Heart pounding and sweating, a part of Anon’s mind screamed to return the way he came, but the closer he came to the player, the more strongly he was compelled to continue.

                                            >Finally, at the end of a hallway he came to a set of double doors from which the music seemed to emanate. He dared not knock and disturb the music, but regardless, no resolve remained to prevent him from placing a hand on the door handle, gently opening it and entering.


                                            Meeting The Countess:

                                            >The room into which Anon stepped, lavish and resplendent as the others, was filled with the reverberations of the eerie music which had drawn him there. Across the room, a pegasus mare of a pure white coat and mane played the accompaniment on a piano. She glanced sidelong, and only for a fraction of a moment, at Anon with a pair of blood red eyes. Anon perceived her obviously restrained curiosity.

                                            >In spite of this fascinating pony, Anon’s eye was drawn, as by magnetism, to a figure seated upon a red, velvet-cushioned chair near the piano. She was a gray earth pony mare with deep purple eyes, and jet black mane and tail. Her heavy gaze was upon Anon while she continued to play a gorgeous cello.

                                            >Anon felt the weight of that gaze. He knew he had indeed arrived at the place to which he was destined, only to find that, perhaps, it was a place he ought not to be. He stood at the entrance, not knowing what do, daring to do nothing to disturb the scene. He was a child waiting to receive direction.

                                            >The mare’s intense gaze persisted, along with her stoic expression, for but a moment longer before her eyes shut as her playing intensified. Dissonance, emotional pain, and all that would conjure gloom was twisted into each melodic line in a heart-piercing crescendoed finale that then died off sorrowfully.

                                            >Anon gulped, the music was not heard by him so much as it was felt, and it left him trembling.

                                            >With the last note struck, the mare opened her eyes and turned to look over her shoulder at the ghostly mare, giving her an order in the form of a nod. In turn, the white mare nodded back and folded the wooden cover over the keys ever so gently. She got up and proceeded to exit through a different door.

                                            >WIth interest, Anon watched her go, aware still that he was being watched by that mysterious figure at the cello. He noted the air grow charged as that mare lingered in the doorway, watching him, no doubt out of curiosity.

                                            >”Tsch!!!” came the gray mare’s vicious reprimand. She had said it without turning her eyes away from Anon, and seemingly not knowing what the other mare was doing in the doorway.

                                            >The white mare, jolted by the terseness the command, immediately left and shut the door gently behind her.

                                            >Alone together, they gazed upon each other. Or rather, Anon looked, but the gray mare gazed. Anon felt as though he desperately need to squirm out of his own skin.

                                            >After a few uncomfortable moments the mare raised her bow and pointed to a matching sofa across from her.

                                            >Taking it to mean he was to take a seat, Anon moved in that direction. Still trembling, he clumsily bumped into various pieces of furniture along the way. As he sat down on the sofa, he felt his blood running cold.

                                            >The mare leaned back a bit and drew the bow across the strings. A new melody in a minor key followed, expressive, elegant, and dramatic. It was well connected and flowed together, as a waltz. Yet, her gaze still remained upon Anon.

                                            >Anon could only sit, watch, and feel the music. Meanwhile, he perceived her gaze as if it was boring a conduit into the fiber of his being. Soon, he felt as though this strange mare had passed through that conduit and was rummaging around his very soul, defiling or violating him.

                                            >Finally, her eyes closed as she become one with the music. To Anon’s great astonishment other instruments around the room began to join in of their own volition. A violin sprung off its stand to fulfill the melody of the waltz. The wooden cover over the piano keys opened itself and the piano added to the harmony and melody. Other instruments did likewise, until there was a small chamber ensemble playing.

                                            >There was no magical aura that Anon could see, and this mare was not a unicorn. Yet, the disembodied ensemble played on.

                                            >Suddenly, the mare stood and released her bow. The cello continued to play itself as she began to dance with her instrument in time to the waltz. Spinning and whirling she moved with the cello about the room. Her mane flew through the air dramatically as she spun and turned; she dipped her cello, drew close to it as though it was a lover, caused it to turn beneath her hoof. All this done with scarcely a sound coming from her hoof-falls upon the wooden floor.

                                            >Coming to a wall, she placed a hoof upon it and proceeded to dance upward, around and avoiding paintings, tapestries, and other decorations. Then, she and the cello arrived at the ceiling. Soon the grant painting on the ceiling became the mare’s ballroom floor as she and the cello waltzed around the chandelier in grotesque elegance.

                                            >By and by, she and the cello danced down the other wall. Anon was aghast, unnerved, fearful, and trembling at this scene. Nevertheless, he was strangely delighted, honored even to see this. He twice thought to run, to go barreling out the door that he entered through. But, instinct alone told him of horrific consequences for such an action. Doubtless, it would be considered a grave disrespect and insult.

                                            >The mare waltzed across the floor back to her starting point. The bow of the cello passed back to her hoof and she played the final notes as she gracefully sat down in the sofa opposite Anon. The other instruments gently laid themselves down to slumber and the piano once again covered its keys. Once the silence took hold, the mare laid her cello against the end table and laid back for comfort.


                                            A unique discussion:

                                            >In the intervening quiet, Anon studied her. She wore a black overcoat with gold trim and buttons, and a frilly lace cravat. Beneath, she wore a white, button-up shirt whose sleeves ended with flared lace, which protruded out of her coat sleeves and over her fore-hooves. Gold loop earrings, and a ruby broach on the upper left lapel of her coat finished this image of nobility.

                                            >Her countenance now seemed to communicate to Anon ‘You are permitted to speak.’

                                            Compelled by this, and the discomfort of the silence, Anon attempted conversation. “I-I, uh, well, I d-didn’t mean to intrude. Um, I-I hope I didn’t offend.”

                                            >”There was no offense. Visitors seldom come, and I am pleased at the opportunity to be your gracious host.” said the mare in formal tone with a slight bow. “You may refer to me as Countess Octavia, or simply Countess.” She looked him over, dwelling intently on the physical differences that made him so different from a pony. “If you please, who and WHAT, exactly, are you?”

                                            Anon marked the silky allure of her voice. It was calming, but also cold and penetrating, like a knife.“

                                            Somewhat calmed in this strange manner, Anon replied, “My n-name is Anon. I’m a human, originally from a place called earth. Um, a-as far as I know, I am the only one of my kind in Equestria.”

                                            >Countess smiled and laughed dryly. “Human? Truly a rare species then! You must take care of yourself, lest you become extinct.” Then she leaned forward and whispered, “And imagine, I seemed to have captured the only one of your kind. How fortunate…for me!” She laughed slightly again, and continued her line of questions “And what is such a singular and delicate species doing here, in the Cartpathian mountains?”

                                            Her off-key laughter sent a shiver down Anon’s spine and he shifted in his seat. “I was sent by Princess Luna, to assist with making things ready for her visit to Murkoz, for their Nightmare Night festival. But, on the way to Murkoz from the train station I got lost in the woods and ended up at your door.”

                                            >At the mention of Luna her eyes brightened in a wild manner, but her face scowled. Her voice grew thin and terse “Princess Luna. Yes, I know her. Her throne has been vacant for ages. And so, she has returned? She sits upon her throne in Canterlot once more?!” Then she muttered under her breath. “How could I not have known?”

                                            Taken aback, Anon simply nodded.

                                            >Gradually, composure returned to her face, and she adopted stately eloquence once more. “Pardon my manners. Would you like some pine tea?”

                                            “Tea? Y-yes?” stammered Anon.

                                            >The Countess rang a bell that sat on an end table, and in a moment the same white mare from before came in pushing a little tea cart. Once the kettle and cups were placed on the coffee table she promptly turned and left, apparently having learned her lesson from earlier.

                                            >The tea poured itself into the cups, and one moved into Anon’s hand.

                                            >The Countess then picked up the conversation. “The mist and the forest at night are treacherous, Anon. One easily loses his way.” She took a sip of tea. Then added with an unpleasant smirk. “And many swear to the gods that both are full of the disturbed spirts of the departed. They lurk about, looking for wayward ponies to ensnare.” She put her teacup down. “The locals know better than to wander my forests at night! But you were ignorant of these matters…and may be forgiven.”

                                            Anon swirled his tea, not quite knowing how to respond. He tried to change the subject. “I-I must also apologize about something else. I had knocked at your door. Um, nopony let me in, but I heard the lock turn and I decided to enter. Well, um, I was only looking for directions to Murkoz you see…”

                                            >”Yes. It was I that unlocked the door, Anon. I left it to you to decide whether or not to enter.”

                                            Confusion swept him, but he continued, “…and then, I heard the music and…I simply had to follow it, here.”

                                            >Countess smiled wryly. “Naturally. What else could you have done?” She paused, seeming to enjoy Anon’s perplexity at the answer. “Did you enjoy the music, by the way?”

                                            No hesitation was necessary for Anon to answer this question. “It was exquisite! And the dancing, amazing…in ways I can’t describe.” A smile from the pleased Countess invited him to continue. “But, um, how…how did you do that? I don’t mean to be rude, but you aren’t a unicorn, and I’ve only seen unicorns do such things, but not so many things at once…the instruments…all playing at once while you waltzed on the ceiling…”

                                            >A cunning smile graced her face as she contemplated her response. Peering into his eyes, she finally gave it. “Like much of non-living corporeal matter, the instruments here know better than to disobey me. It is the living that do not know.”

                                            He did not like the look in her eyes at her response. Something unsavory lurked behind their cool veneer. Moreover, the enigma of this mare was becoming too much for Anon. Her smile, the way she moved, her strange laughter, and her opaque responses made the hair on his arms and back of his neck stand on end. He felt, ever more desperately, the need to escape this place and distance himself from the Countess.

                                            >Anon formulated a strategy. He gave his answer in stately language.

                                            “Well, I am genuinely grateful for your time, the unique opportunity to hear you play, and for our discussion. You have been a wonderful host, but I feel that I have overstayed my welcome somewhat. I do not wish to be any more of a burden on you. If you provide me with directions to Murkoz, I can be on my way and relieve you of that burden.”

                                            >Countess shook her head gravely. “Oh, Anon. You cannot go now. You will stay the night, for there are far worse things that lurk in the woods after certain hours.” Then she frowned. “And, would I be gracious if I turned out a servant of Princess Luna?”

                                            “But, really…” Anon started.

                                            >Countess cut him off with a severe, almost snarling, response. “You wandered MY forest at night, you followed the invitation of the green-flame lamps, passed MY gates, walked through MY gardens, under the watchful eyes of MY owls and ravens,…and you chose of your own free will to enter MY abode! And now you will simply leave?!” Her stern glare persisted upon Anon in silence for an uncomfortable eternity. “No, you WILL stay, Anon.”

                                            >With that, the Countess rang the bell again and got up to leave. As she approached the double doors, they swung open for her, daring not to disobey her. Before she passed through them she looked over her shoulder at Anon to utter more enigmas. “Visitors seldom come, Anon. Only those with a true reason to do so actually decide to pass through my door. Perhaps you should consider what your reason truly is.” She walked through the doors and they closed behind her.

                                            Anon was left alone with the icy grip of real fear clutching at his heart. He concluded that beneath the Countess’s exterior, some unmentionable primal force lurked; something he could scarcely understand, save it was terribly dangerous. For now, he must go along with the current.

                                            >In a moment, the white mare entered. She bowed to Anon. “Your room is ready and we’ve brought up your luggage. Follow me, if you please.”

                                            ‘We’, Anon thought. How many of them were there? He let himself be led to his room by the strange mare.


                                            Night visitation:

                                            >Anon sat at a beautifully carved desk in a room dimly lit by starlight through the window and a few flickering candles. He sat in stillness and wondered what to do.

                                            >When the mare had brought him to the chambers, dinner and his bags had been there waiting for him. However, as she left, the heavy oak door had been locked. Anon’s attempts to open it were to no avail and no other convenient means of escape availed themselves. Even the window was a poor choice as his room seemed to overlook a cliff.

                                            >For the time being, he was a prisoner. He had eaten dinner, which to his astonishment included lamb, and he had rummaged through the desk, finding nothing useful.

                                            >Besides his bags and dinner, there was another item waiting for him, a small scroll bound with gold ribbon in a neat bow. Curiosity had compelled him to examine this first. In it he found a small map of the area with a path, outlined in thick red ink, from the northern garden to Murkoz.

                                            >It also contained a note from his gracious host, and captor, expressing her her happiness to have him as a guest and her hopes that he would feel himself comfortable in her abode. She also explained the map and landmarks to follow on the, path to Murkoz.

                                            >These two papers now lay on the desk along with his empty dinner plate.

                                            >Anon took a deep breath, let it out and got up from his chair to examine the books in a nearby bookcase. Most were histories of the surrounding regions, some on magic, others on mythology, still others addressed celestial phenomena. Almost all were bound with leather, a strange material for ponies to use. Anon, had seen its use only very infrequently in his time in Equestria. Ponies generally regarded it with disgust.

                                            >Anon pulled a book on the history of Cartpathian nobility. Opening the cover, Anon was surprised at the publication date. It had originated from just after the commencement of the reign of the two sisters, several hundred years earlier. Yet, it was in remarkably good condition. Flipping through a few pages, Anon wondered at this.

                                            >”Are you an avid reader, Master Anon?” a voice called out from the darkness, followed by an unsettling giggle.

                                            Terribly startled, Anon dropped the book and spun around. “Who’s there?” He did not recognize the voice as belonging to the Countess.

                                            >“We have a huge library. You should see it. We can take you.” said another slithery voice, seeming to come from a dark area near the door.

                                            “Show yourself!” demanded Anon, his heart beating harder. He then heard a sinister giggle above. Turning and looking up to the top of the bookcase he found its origin.

                                            >”Hear I am, Master Anon!”

                                            Anon saw that it was the strange white mare that had brought him to the room; she now sat atop the bookcase. The mare stared at him from the darkness with her sharp, blood red eyes. “It’s you. W-what are you doing in my room?”

                                            >She smirked in a rather unsavory manner and replied. “WE, came to visit you." Looking up and across the room into the darkness, she added, "Didn’t we.”

                                            Anon’s heart skipped another beat as he glanced over his shoulder in time to see two other mares, white as bleached bone like the first, emerging from the shadows of the room. The way they moved made his skin crawl. “Wha…!?

                                            >The first, a pegasus, replied in a silky, whispery tone. “Oh yes! We simply could not pass an opportunity to meet a guest.” She smiled and licked her lips as she continued stepping forward.

                                            Casting his eyes to the left, he saw the third mare. This one was a unicorn with a braided mane. He heard her voice cut into him next.

                                            >”AND, we were curious…very curious…VERY!” The unicorn mare looked Anon up and down, dwelling on his unique physiology, as the Countess had.

                                            Behind him, Anon heard a soft thump on the wooden floor. Turning back he saw that the earth pony mare had jumped down from the bookcase. Her landing had been unusually soft for a hoofed creature of her weight; which reinforced Anon’s conclusion that nothing here was natural. “H-how’d you all get into my room? The door was locked…You locked me in!”

                                            >The earth pony mare responded with a short laugh. “We, have other doors. You don’t know them, and only we can use them.” She playfully, or perhaps sickly, stuck out her tongue at the end.

                                            Finding himself surrounded on three sides by these bizarre mares, and not liking it in the least, Anon moved off to the side and behind a high-backed gilded chair. He watched them watching him as he did so. “When will you let me go?!”

                                            >The pegasus gave him a sidelong glance. “The Countess decides that, not us. THE COUNTESS!” Then she smiled mysteriously. “Maybe she will keep you FOREVER, with USSSSSS!” She sustained the final ’S’ like a snake.

                                            >In the short stillness that followed, the mares giggled and looked at each other before advancing toward him.

                                            Their advance was slow and predatory. Anon, feeling a critical moment approaching, began to step back while carefully trying to keep an eye on all three. He felt like a prey animal in a lion’s den. “I, uh, rather think that i-it’s time I turn in. You all had better go please.”

                                            >”Turn in? Turn into what? A rabbit? Cute little cotton tail? Hmmm? Mmmm!” mocked the earth pony.

                                            >Meanwhile, the unicorn was narrating his movements. “Step…step…pause…step…”.

                                            Anon looked to the pegasus. She had switched her sidelong gaze to the other eye and was still licking her lips with that maniacal smile. He continued moving back.

                                            >”…pause…step…step…glances about…hmm?…what?…where’d she go?!…she was just there!…” grinned the unicorn.

                                            She was right. As Anon had watched, the earth pony passed into a shadow and was gone. He frantically scanned the room. “Impossible…”

                                            >The pegasus chimed in. “INDEED, Master Anon. But where is she? Where, OH where?” A sinister laugh escaped her as she mockingly looked about the room before coming back to Anon, shifting as she did so to the other eye. “She could be ANYWHERE! Or even, EVERYWHERE!”

                                            >They continued to move forward and Anon continued to retreat.

                                            >”…step…Step…STep…STEp…STEP…SSSTTTEEEPPP…and trip!…” crescendoed the unicorn, before ending on a sweet, tonic note.

                                            A confused Anon took his final backward step only to feel his left leg blocked by something. The surprise unbalanced him and he fell backward, managing as he did to see that it had been the earth pony. She had somehow reappeared behind his legs and tripped him with her body. Anon hit the floor with a heavy thud. “Argh!”

                                            >”…and fall!…ouchie!…” said the unicorn triumphantly.

                                            >The earth pony mare wriggled out from under Anon’s legs, blowing a raspberry while the others laughed hysterically.

                                            >They fixed their gaze once more on Anon, and the pegasus flipped a coin internally to decide which eye to look sidelong at Anon with in that moment. They pushed forward still.

                                            Anon crawled back, crab style, until his back hit a dresser and he was cornered. As they drew closer, he held up his hands. “Whoa! Whoa!”

                                            >The pegasus and the earth pony looked at each other in confusion at the unknown gesture and guessed at its meaning.

                                            >On the other hoof, the unicorn was fascinated. Her eyes darted from fingertip to fingertip of Anon’s left hand. “One…two…three…four…FIVE!…” She glanced to his right hand, then his sock covered feet. “…THAT, means ten…THAT, means twenty!…they look like little sausages!…”

                                            >The earth mare gently pushed a fore hoof into the side of the unicorn. “You forgot one.” Turning to Anon, she added, “Didn’t she, Master Anon. A more precioussssss sausage.” She proceeded to giggle quietly, but uncontrollably to herself; sometimes snorting in a bizarrely cute fashion.

                                            Anon raised an eyebrow in surprise at the sudden sexual overtone.

                                            >The unicorn was confused for a moment, but then it dawned on her. “…right!…twenty ONE!” She declared with finality. She turned to the pegasus. “Do you suppose…it’s the same size as the others?”

                                            >The pegasus stuck her tongue out, curved it upward against the corner of her mouth and left it there. With a smirk, she slowly and cooly craned her neck and took a prolonged glance between Anon’s legs before answering her counterpart. “Oh, certainly bigger. Maybe, MAYBE, even MUCH bigger.”

                                            >This made the unicorn smile with satisfaction. “Twenty ONE!…three sevens!…seven three…primes all…holy numbers…three for stability…seven for the celestial spheresssssss…”

                                            >”Not holy enough for the likes of us! Besides, if you add the other two bits you get 23; even more prime-y!” joked the earth pony.

                                            >They all giggled in response, and Anon instinctively brought his knees together.

                                            Anon took all this in, not knowing how to respond, not knowing if it would even make any difference whatever he said. While they laughed, he tried a sudden movement toward the door. Perhaps he could break it open and dash out. But, the pegasus was too quick and blocked him even before her could get to his feet. She had moved like lightning and hissed as she did so.

                                            >The giggling then stopped abruptly and they all stared at him, all six blood-red eyes. Even the pegasus had decided to focus both of her eyes on Anon. Silence weighed down violently for a terrible few seconds.

                                            Looking from one to another, Anon quickly examined them, his heart thumping and his mind warning him of the extreme danger he was in.

                                            >The pegasus continually liked her lips with a smirk that could curdle milk. Her glare could only be described as murderous and calculating.

                                            >The unicorn wore a blank expression, but her eyes were overactive in their scanning of his body. They seemed disembodied such that they and her body were separate entities.

                                            >Finally, the earth pony wore a grin from ear to ear. Anon had never seen such a chilling and enthusiastic smile. Noticing Anon looking at her, the earth pony’s eyes opened as wide as they could go. Still maintaining the insane grin, she chomped her teeth together a few times. She seemed to be enjoying the moment, and the effect this had on Anon.

                                            Anon recoiled in horror. Not equine teeth, but rows of razor sharp daggers presented themselves. They glistened, pearly and moist, in the starlight; particularly the long the fangs. Terror took hold and he glanced at the others. They now wore the same grin and bore mouths full of lethal danger. “By the gods…what are you?” was all he could manage in his shock.

                                            >The mares ignored this question and closed in slowly.

                                            Closing his eyes in fear, Anon could now feel the breath of each mare on his face. He felt the tongue of the pegasus flick out and glide up his neck. She offered a final profane utterance.

                                            >”I WOULD wager that your taste is as exquisite as your smell.”

                                            >However, despite his impending demise, it was not to be. At that moment, the locking bolt on the door operated with a clank and the door flew open.

                                            >The mares turned rapidly in surprise. As it turned out, their turn was rapid enough that the unicorn’s braided mane swung into the air and slapped Anon square in the head; it slide down his body and cam to rest in his lap.

                                            >In trotted the Countess, who surveyed the scene with dreadful sternness.

                                            >The mares, in spite of themselves, now trembled.


                                            A Countess and a vampire:

                                            >The Countess’s eyes darted from mare to mare in the tense silence. The mares shook and bowed, as if weighed down by the force of her presence. “What are you doing with Master Anon?” came the Countess’s menacing hiss.

                                            Anon now felt more at ease regarding the mares, but unsettled with regard to the absolute fury that burned in the amethyst eyes of the Countess. Though the wolves no longer bore their fangs at him, the alpha had arrived and danger had not diminished in the slightest.

                                            >The pegasus dared speak first, offering a groveling excuse. “Countess, we…we were playing…just playing. Nothing intended, no disrespect.”

                                            >The earth mare rode the coat tails of the pegasus to try and seal the explanation and avert whatever punishment they feared. “Yes, honest.”

                                            >To this, the unicorn added a rather pitiful, “Meant no harm…just a little…sip…sip…a little…”

                                            >”Silence! All of you! You know better than to interfere with what is MINE!” boomed the Countess. She took a breath and looked them over once more. “Your punishment will be severe,” she said in restrained anger.

                                            >The mares winced together and their trembling increased. “Yes, Countess!” they said in unison.

                                            Being an observer to this, Anon felt awkward and despite the terror inflicted upon him by these mares, he began to feel pangs of sympathy for them. Imagination could scarcely conjure up in his mind what their punishment would be. He looked up and caught the Countess’s eye.

                                            >Her features softened somewhat as she addressed Anon directly. “Please forgive them, Anon. They are young, they have much to learn…and they lack DISCIPLINE!” She had launched the last word into the trio like a harpoon, causing the mares to lower nearly to their bellies.

                                            Simply nodding to this, Anon could do little more than watch the scene unfold.

                                            >The Countess continued her admonition of the mares. “You are not ready for this yet, and you shall be ready only when I deign for it to be so! Until then it shall be the MILK before the MEAT!” she snarled.

                                            >The mares winced again and cowered.

                                            Now Anon became aware of the coil of rope that levitated by the side of the Countess, its lank free end snaked its way across the floor and out the door. Anon watched as she cast the coil to the floor in front of the mares.

                                            >The sound of the rope striking the ground caused the mares to snap their eyes open. They looked up at the Countess expectantly.

                                            >The Countess motioned toward the door with a nod of her head. “Now go! I shall deal with you three later.”

                                            >The unicorn picked up the end of the rope in her mouth and the three slunk out of the room, their heads hung in humility. The eyes of the Countess, shooting daggers, monitored their progress.

                                            As they passed out of the door and down the hall, Anon saw the free end of the rope grow taut as whatever was on the other end resisted being pulled by the mares. A sharp angry yank, presumably by the unicorn, caused the beast to step forth down the hallway and past the door. Anon could not make out exactly what it was. However, judging by its shadowy form, it was larger than a pony and it wore a collared bell, for it tinkled as it went.

                                            >The Countess turned to Anon with a smile as the door swiftly closed itself. “We all become irritable when we become hungry, do we not?”

                                            Her civil tone calmed Anon somewhat and he felt at ease to stand. Nevertheless he remained on guard, knowing now the kind of creatures he was amongst. Slowly coming to his feat, Anon hesitated before answering the Countess. “I suppose. However, that was an unholy sort of hunger your servants had. I was certain I’d be eaten alive. Am I a prisoner here? Why was I locked in? When will I be released?” Anon asked his questions calmly, not knowing how the Countess would respond if he showed the anger he fostered at his situation.

                                            >The Countess replied cooly, “You are certainly not a prisoner, Anon. Locking you in was a precaution. It was clear earlier that you intended to continue on to Murkoz in the night. Had you done so, you surely would have been ripped apart by the dire wolves that lurk at this time of night.” The Countess continued with a smirk, “You may leave when it is safe to do so…when I decide it is so.”

                                            Anon thought he caught a glint of excitement in her eyes and voice as she described the action of the dire wolves, that made him uneasy. Yet, he pressed on with questions, as well as inching his way along the wall toward the door. “And what are those mares…they are certainly not ponies, rather something else entirely, something not exactly wholesome. And you for that matter, what exactly are you?”

                                            >The Countess watched Anon inch along the wall with apparent amusement, buoyed no doubt, on supreme confidence that the situation was entirely in her hoof. She replied with a laugh, “Foals of the night, kindreds of the darkness, you might say” — The Countess stepped to block Anon’s path, her voice fell to an aggressive whisper, and her eyes narrowed — “Denizens of the underworld’s depts.”

                                            Stopping in his tracks at being blocked and contemplating her cryptic answer, Anon looked to the door. “Devils, demons, goblins?”

                                            >The Countess caught Anon’s line of sight and glanced over her back to the door. Turning to face Anon again the lock shut with a loud clank. “Nothing so uncouth as that Anon. I am far more refined and sophisticated than those. And the mares you met, well, they are merely young and yet unformed.”

                                            Apprehension growing, Anon started inching toward the window. “T-they looked like full grown mares to me.”

                                            >”Yes, but they are young for the creatures that they are,” said the Countess as she again watched Anon with amusement.

                                            “And I suppose that is to protect me again from whatever lurks outside?” said Anon, nodding at locked door.

                                            >”Oh no! Now it is to keep you in here…with me,” she teased with a laugh.

                                            >The Countess walked over to the sofa and took a seat. She glanced over to the desk where Anon’s empty dinner plate sat. “Did you enjoy dinner? Working in Canterlot, it must have been ages since you’ve had meat. And do tell, what is your line of work there for Princess Luna?”

                                            Continuing to inch along, and now sweating from his brow, Anon stammered out a response in a flood of fear. “I-it was d-delicious. Um, as to m-my work, well, I-I’m a direct aide to Her Highness.”

                                            >A disdainful sneer worked its way over the Countess’s face. “Fascinating. And what sort of ‘services’ do you provide to her Highness?”

                                            Anon was too fearful to attempt a counter to the implied slur, which seemed laden with a jealous fury. He was almost to the window. “M-mostly clerical work. P-papers and things,” Anon replied. Curiosity getting the better of him, he asked a question whose answer her feared. “And have you had dinner yet?”

                                            >The sneer vanished and in its place a clever smile appeared. “Not yet,” cooed the Countess, shaking her head.

                                            Anon turned from the Countess to the window, just in time to see it slam shut and the latch engage. Deprived of light from the moon and stars, the room plunged into darkness and shadow.

                                            >The flickering candles sent the shadows quietly dancing about the room as if they were consumed by a happy madness. Filaments of light moved across the Countess, seemingly animating her motionless form. In the gloom, the vibrant purple of her irises emitted an unwholesome glow.

                                            Adjusting to the sudden increase in darkness, Anon squinted. The Countess lay on the sofa before him. He blinked and she was instantaneously gone from that position and was now standing near the coffee table with a smile.

                                            >Inability to understand the dark magic at work here caused beads of sweat to roll down from Anon’s brow into his eyes.

                                            He blinked again, involuntarily, from the drop of sweat. Again she vanished from her position by the table, instantaneously reappearing, as Anon opened his eyes, at the high-backed chair a pace and half from him. His heart raced, his eyes locked to hers, and he dared not speak out of terror. He observed her grin now grow wider. As she did, glints of light reflected off her now revealed fangs.

                                            >Now a slow pursuit began. Anon stepped back and the Countess forward. Step by step they moved across the room, one hunting the other. One subsumed by fear, the other brimming with  dominance and power. This creeping dance continued, until Anon reached the limit of his travel.

                                            Stepping back, his leg pressed against something wooden. Placing his hand back to feel what it was, and casting a quick glance over his shoulder, he could see that it was the bed. Just as quickly, he brought his gaze back to the Countess.

                                            >The Countess smirked, licked a fang, and cocked her head to one side. Softly, in whispery tones she said, “What now, Anon? What will you do? Perhaps, perhaps, acceptance of fate is an appropriate course of action. Is it not?”

                                            Out of the corner of his eye, Anon could see the door. By the strength that shear terror induced in a man, he could surely tear it open. He grabbed the bed post closest the door, in order to propel himself as he bolted.

                                            >There was a standoff. Anon watched the Countess, and the Countess watched Anon. He tightened his grip on the post. He took a slow breath. He readied his muscles to jolt him to the door.

                                            >The Countess maintained her grin while her eyes moved slowly in the direction of the door, as if to dare Anon. “You think so?”

                                            Anon frowned with resolve. He let out a small bit of breath and caught it suddenly. Just as suddenly, and with all the agility he could muster, he turned to spring toward the door.

                                            >But there, suddenly in the path he intended to dash through, was the Countess smiling and menacing as before.

                                            Anon caught himself with the bedpost before he fell over. Standing once more, his eyes fell upon hers. He felt drawn in to those violet pools; captivated completely and lost in their poison.

                                            >”Yes, Anon. Unfortunately, it was inevitable,” said the Countess sweetly, “And now the game is coming to an end.”

                                            The purple of her eyes grew in his vision until he felt it submerge his consciousness. His body relaxed of its own volition and grew lethargic; his grip on the bed post loosened against his will and his arm dropped to his side.

                                            >Under the poison of the Countess’s dark force, Anon now moved according to her will. He stepped backwards, passed the footboard and up the side of the bed, eyes still locked on the Countess’s eyes. “As I explained earlier, things know better than to disobey me, even your own body,” she cooly explained.

                                            Feeling like an observer in his own mind, Anon felt himself climb onto the bed and lay on his back.

                                            >In another moment, there was vibration in the mattress as the Countess stepped on to the bed. She stepped over and straddled Anon, looking down at him face to face.

                                            As poisoned by darkness as he consciousness was, nothing could terrify Anon more than the vision of the Countess that was now only a short space away from his face. Long razor sharp fangs dripping with saliva were paired with a devilish grin. Her pupils, once round, were now slits like a predator about to kill its victim. The hair in her coat bristled and stood on end. Most unnerving of all, strands of her mane whipped wildly in different directions as if propelled by unseen currents of black intent. He guessed her intent. Anon focused his mind, and with all his might he managed to bring his hands up to cover his neck. Lacking strength, it was accomplished with the speed of molasses.

                                            >The Countess watched with amusement and let out a wild laugh. After this, she shook her head and simply asked, “No?”

                                            Anon could only glare back at her and see how she would respond.

                                            >The Countess smirked as a cunning look twisted its way on to her face. She moved her left hind hoof between Anon’s legs and ran it up, gently and slowly, along the inside of his thigh. Raising her chin a bit as her hoof reached its destination, she pressed it firmly into Anon’s groin. “I will drink from you tonight, Anon. But there are other places I can draw from besides your neck!”

                                            The statement was made with the sharpness of a threat and Anon felt it enter his soul, through his ears as well as his groin. Mustering as much focus as before, he lowered his hands from his neck; complete capitulation.

                                            >The Countess let out a small, throaty chuckle and glanced momentarily between her legs toward his groin. “Mmmm! As exotic a creature as you are, it seems you keep your genitals in about the same place as a stallion.”

                                            Internally, Anon was horrified and desired nothing more than to escape. However, under her power his face remained blank.

                                            >Nevertheless, it seemed the Countess knew what he was thinking, for her expression grew sympathetic. “Come, come, Anon. Is it not exhilarating to be hunted,” — She licked her fangs again — “to be caught…to be consumed?” She paused before continuing. “You can enjoy this, Anon. Or, you can resist,” — She nodded her head — “Or, you can experience it in terror!”

                                            >The countess removed her hoof from Anon’s groin and replaced it along his side. Then she lowered her weight on to Anon’s chest.

                                            >”The taste varies. Savory with fear. Spicy with resistance. Sweet when willing,” she again whispered.

                                            >Seeming to feel Anon’s thoughts in response, the Countess wasted no further time. Her mouth opened and she craned her neck towards his.

                                            Anon felt the needles plunge slowly into his neck, followed by the Countess’s lips forming a seal on his skin. The blood begin to leave his body, and life force with it. After a moment, he felt his arms lifted by her dark power and brought over her withers in a tight embrace. As by a drug, his consciousness slipped into ethereal depths, the warmth of her body on his the last of his observations.


                                            The Castle at Night:

                                            >Anon had lost consciousness — by the Countess’s own design to spare him the additional terror — but she continued to savor his blood. Thick and resplendent with flavors and tones unknown to her, as well as the silvery coolness of bits of soul, she drank it slowly down. Drinking slowly was as much to savor it as it was to avoid drinking too much. The Countess was judicious, and desired just enough for herself while leaving Anon enough to live and recover.

                                            >As she drank, she became more satiated and relaxed. Moreover, the weight of Anon’s arms upon her, though forced there by her dark arts, and his warmth was calming. She closed her eyes in ecstasy. The serenity of the feeling tore down her guard and she let out a satisfied, “Mmmmm.”

                                            >All the previous indications of ferocity were now gone. Her coat no longer bristled. Her true-black mane fell lank and beautiful over her withers, shoulder, and forelegs. Beneath her eyelids, her pupils were again circular and normal.

                                            >Coming to the final desired gulp, the Countess cautiously pulled away, severing her connection to his life force, his thoughts, and, his feelings. Her lips were the last to leave as they sopped up remaining blood, but her tongue did the rest to clean up the remainder until blood stopped flowing from the two needle holes.

                                            >She now looked down on Anon’s face, free of terror and submerged in deep sleep.

                                            >”Now sleep well, Anon,” she said with a smile, “dream well, and awake rested.” It was as much a true sentiment as an order that carried with it the force of her dark power.

                                            >The Countess levitated Anon’s arms to the bed, stood up, and moved to the edge of the bed. Before hoping down she looked back over her withers and levitated a blanket over him.

                                            >As she traversed the room, the candle holders replenished themselves with new candles, logs in the fireplace arranged themselves before roaring to life with flames, and a pitcher of water and cup placed themselves upon the nightstand by the bed for Anon. Finally, the shutters obeyed their master by unlatching and opening to let the starlight in through the window.

                                            >Quietly as shadow, the Countess opened the door and left, closing it behind her but leaving it unlocked.

                                            >Setting out to find the trio of mares, the Countess roamed the hallways of her castle. The same opposed mirrors that had reflected Anon into infinity, reflected nothing at all as she passed in the dimness of candle and moon light. The paintings of the previous holders of her station looked down upon her from their perches with approval as she passed by.

                                            >Many thoughts now passed through her mind regarding the strange creature that had wandered fearlessly into her web. Where had he truely come from and why? Why hadn’t she come across him sooner or felt his presence in Equestria?