Sworn to Moonlight

Chapters

Necessary evil
Paves the path
For others
To claim the praise

Necessary evil

I so hoped this would be a peaceful day, and it looked quite promising in the morning. Our artificial pony project entered the next stage few days ago. We found out long ago that growing various parts separately allows us to make more improvements on every segment of pony anatomy, rather than growing the body as a whole and trying to modify the whole code at once. Sadly this approach has its downside too. It is much more time consuming than direct growth, but at last the tissue, skeleton and organs were finished. Now the time for testing had come.

To have a hope to be incorporated into final product the components needed to prove certain endurance. We wanted to expose them to microbes, poisons and mechanical wear to see what to improve. We had painstakingly drawn up an exact plan, we knew the boundaries. At least most of us did. One overeager idiot of a pony, young trainee called Vial Glass, applied aqua regia to some of the internal organs. I mean, it is still just tissue, not diamond, for Discord’s sake! If I didn’t know better, I would accuse him of intentional sabotage, but I don’t blame evil for what stupidity caused. Still now we needed to regrow a digestive system and a few other things. Charming, really.

Those are the moments when murder sounds like a good idea. But what good would the fool be as a corpse? If we had been closer to the border, I would have sold him into slavery to the Diamond Dogs in order to get refunded for the damage he caused. Alas, the slavers live too far away, so Vial Glass will stay with us. He will have to earn the money himself, although it will probably take him a whole lifetime…

Unfortunately, we can’t afford to wait until Vial makes enough money, so the hunt for a new client to drain the money from began. I’m not happy, the assingments usually mean dirty work, but for a greater good I will do anything.

“The project is saved!” shouts one of my lieutenants the he opens my door with such enthusiasm that it slams harshly into the wall.

Now, I don’t require any salutations or other such ridiculous signs of discipline. We use military rankings for their clear hierarchical structure - not the character of our organization - but a polite greeting and some respect for possessions are a must!

“Maybe you should leave the same way you came, Fire Caller. Perhaps take some etiquette lessons and try your entrance one more time, or is there a crime my door committed against your family?”

I question him standing up behind my carved mahogany desk. We may not have enough funding to continue our research, but that doesn’t mean we sacrifice all luxury at once. One can better mourn the cruelty of the world in a palace than in a shack.

“My apologies, Chant Circle, sir,” his cheeriness doesn’t drop a single bit, this must be really important. “…but I thought you would want to hear this at once.”

“Well, of course I would want to know that the project is saved, but knowing the chain of thoughts leading to that conclusion would bring me even bigger pleasure.” I answer with a raised eyebrow. I don’t want to be rude to Fire but the newly made dent in the wall next to my door didn’t exactly spur me to wash him in friendship.

He seems to finally pick up on my mood and calms a bit. “A courier arrived a few minutes ago. Apparently there is a pony asking around for unorthodox magical services. It must be something big, otherwise our contacts wouldn’t bother to let us know!” The longer he speaks, the more excited he sounds.

His emotions prove to be contagious as the full meaning of the news sets in. Unorthodox means illegal, illegal means dangerous, and dangerous means expensive! Of course we do all kinds of magical odd jobs to support our main cause, but this could solve our current problems at once! Yet I can’t allow myself to show any of my growing mirth. If the mere news made my subordinates run around like fire crackers, I fear to imagine what my approval would start.

“It might be a trap. Send the message to our contacts to observe him. If he doesn’t do anything suspicious during next two weeks, let them approach him and set a meeting. While they are on it, they should check his solvency as well.” I order as calmly as I can. I debate forbidding him to tell others about this news, but they probably already know by now, so what is the point?

“I’m right on it, sir.” He turns to leave but stops when he finally spots the damage he caused. “And I’m sorry about the door…” he trails off.

“What’s done is done. I understand your excitement. But try to be more considerate in the future. What if it wasn’t the door but focus crystal? You would be condemned to the same life as Vial Glass.”

Fire just shuddered and left in haste. Nopony wished to end up like Vial. He is to earn back the money lost in his dimwitted actions by cleaning the biological waste (read failed experiments). When he so loves aqua regia, he can work with it till the end of his days.

I sat back behind my table and placed my forehooves behind me head. Unorthodox magical service… Well if it is what it takes to bring our pony to life, we can be very unorthodox indeed.

Black magic. That’s what they call our research. How can they fail to understand that magic doesn’t have colors? The only difference between their petty spells and our rituals is the object of attention. The mechanics and rules are the same.

They think that changing living beings and bending the will of creatures to our needs go against the laws of nature? But do stones naturally fly in the air? Does anything simply vanish to appear the next instant miles away? No, if they want to call our way unnatural, they need to stop using unicorn magic as a whole. Hypocrites.

We can’t really complain about our current situation. From what is written in ancient tomes, our life used to be much harder. We can’t perform any 'black magic' spells during the day because Celestia’s sun burns our delicate spells down. Not to mention that through the traitorous Sun’s rays, she can see everything. We would end up just like our spells, burned to ash.

Moonlight on the other hand, that’s a whole different story. It’s not only gentle enough not to harm our work, it tends to tends to magnify and smoothen it. And since the Princess of the Night looks down on us from the Moon itself, we are completely safe from her wrath. Celestia can rise the Moon all she wants, but no way in Tartarus will it talk to her.

See? Here is another reason why we are shunned. Ponies fear the night and despise it so anything associated with it must definitely be evil. No wonder Luna succumbed to madness and turned against those ungrateful ignorants. But regardless of the justifiability of her actions, we are quite happy about them.

To be sincere, there is one thing that troubles us. It is hard to raise funds for our research. Why should we get money? Well, any scientist doing something positive for society gets money. Or do you think that understanding genetic material, curing diseases, and making a pony’s body stronger is wrong?

Let me tell you something. Every piece of knowledge can be used for good and for evil alike. The fact that they don’t allow us to focus on the good means that we need to get the money somehow. Thus anypony who pays can buy our services.

For once it seems that things are going our way. From the report we got, that pony really is looking for 'black magic' performers on his own, instead of being a mere bait offer from the Royal Guard. His purse isn’t the smallest in Equestria either - our contacts made sure about that. They get paid 5 percent of the money we earn so it is in their own interest to verify all information. It also seems he demands genetic alterations.

I gave them permission to set the meeting according to the needs of the customer. I don’t have much to do, since the research is suspended, and can therefore bend my schedule as needed. Besides, our contacts can be trusted to steer our client in the right direction. This isn’t the first time they set the meeting for me. Shady bars and abandoned quarries are perhaps romantic, and they look good in adventure stories, but they are also highly suspicious. Discussing business in Michefillyn-star-awarded restaurant is not only much more pleasant, but also much safer since the personnel makes sure that nopony disturbs the guests.

After months in a lab coat or ritual cape, I enjoy every second wearing my stylish, dark-green suit of an extravagant cut and complementing beige scarf.

“Soaring Profit, I have a shared reservation for 7 o’clock” I announce with as much disdain in my voice as possible to the maitre d’. Behaving any other way towards the staff would raise suspicion. Oh how pathetic high society is nowadays…

“Of course, sir. This way, sir.” If his anatomical structure allowed so, this colt would bow even lower. Once we are finished with our current project, perhaps we could design a race of waiters without backbones. If successful, the same concept could actually be applied to models for many other professions. The possibilities are endless!

The attendant leads me into a secluded section of the establishment. The privacy doors of the booth are closed, which means our future business partner already arrived. He is obviously eager. I should take advantage of it and aid as many bits to change pockets as possible.

“Finally! What took you so long? Do you vermins always let customers wait so long?” The pony snaps the moment the waiter closed the doors. I see he already downed half of glass of… beer. Sweet Celestia, who am I doing business with?!

“And good evening to you too, sir. I believe it would be impolite to arrive before my host does.” I reply with a smile. He is not the first yokel pretending to be of nobility that I have dealt with, nor will he be the last one.

“You think you are witty? I should just leave your rude mouth here and go to other providers! What’s your name anyway?” How easily some ponies boil… He obviously isn’t used to the fact that somepony doesn’t tremble in front of him.

“My name is of little consequence and so is yours. And what providers are we talking about? As far as I know, my “company” is the only one currently providing the services you demand. By the way, you should learn some subtlety. It’s a wonder we contacted you before the Royal Guard did.” A smile never leaves my face in these situations.

Our waiter chooses this moment to knock on the door and enter with our starters. All the food was pre-ordered by our contacts, and prepaid by our client. Having a monopoly brings these little pleasantries. This also provides time for my statement to settle in the customer’s head which becomes apparent when immediately after the waiter leaves.

I must say, the look on his face is priceless.

“R-royal Guard? What have they to do with this?”

“Much, I would say, since what you want isn’t exactly smiled upon by Celestia.” Now is the time to start being serious, and my voice follows this notion. Before continuing, I take a moment to savor the assortment of masterfully prepared appetizers in front of me. “Now, we know the general kind of operation you desire, but we lack the details. Care to elaborate your wish? That is, if you are still interested.”

His cockiness disperses like a fog in front of pegasi wings.

“Y-yes, I… I’m still interested. Even if it is illegal.” His resolve returns to his tone. “It concerns my son. You see, his coloration isn’t exactly fitting representation and a gentlepony in my position cannot allow anything to muddle his image.”

A few years ago something like this would ruin my appetite. There is a reason we don’t experiment on living ponies and instead create artificial constructs. Any genetic change is extremely painful and dangerous. Going through something like this just for a visage wasn’t unheard of, but it spoke volumes about that pony’s mental state. Putting one’s own foal through this for one’s for appearances sake would, by typical pony standards, result in banishment, possibly to the Moon (if it weren’t already occupied).

We don’t follow typical pony morals. Everything has a price.

“This isn’t exactly a simple ritual. It includes several steps demanding high strain from the casters. The cost might be above your resources,” I inform him. It’s not, of course. We made sure. But playing his ego ensures he won’t back out.

“My resources are my problem. Name the price,” he claims, haughtily inflating like a turkey.

“80,000 bits.” I watch as his bravado deflates. “And before you try to haggle, this is our final offer.”

The battle of passions raging inside his head is clearly visible on his face. Greed and pride, both sporting the intellects of a five-year-old, trying to dominate one another in a conflict rivaling the one between the princesses and Discord. And just like then, the result is known from the beginning.

“OK you greedy bastard. But I choose the place.” I will let him have that little victory. It is a small price for asking 30,000 more than usual.

“As you wish. It is a pleasure to do business with you.”

I throw a smug smile his way. The deal is secured, project is saved, and most of a delicious dinner is still waiting for me. Yes, things are definitely going our way now.

Our customer had enough sense in his high-in-the-clouds head to give us enough time to prepare for the ritual. Those assigned to perform the spell spent most of the time travelling around Equestria, acquiring necessary reagents. They are mostly standard alchemical materials, but the amounts needed would draw unwanted attention. Buying from various places diminishes the risks. We also chose not to tell any others the exact date of the operation.

Sadly, the nervousness in our headquarters has been rising recently. We didn’t keep the contract secret from our own ponies, and some of the lower-ranking ones (that means those who have been with us for a relatively short time) started to question our morality. This happens from time to time, so we always have a backup plan.

There is always a chance that somepony loses their head and run to the authorities confessing his 'crimes' and the location of our hideout. When you encounter open discussion about whether our deeds are righteous or not, you can almost be sure there will soon be such a pony. That’s why we adopted the policy of keeping a secondary hideout on standby. The new location is kept secret from most of our members but is ready and operational at all times.

Thanks to that policy, the moving could start immediately. The rank of a member and the importance of the project have been the deciding factors for the order of moving. Everything had to be kept in secrecy from those staying in place for now.

As we make our way to the place of the ritual, all the lieutenants and the most important scientists are safely in the new hideout. That knowledge brings me some calmness. For tasks like the one today, we always bring most of our available bodyguards, while the headquarters remain relatively unguarded.

To my surprise the customer chose a good place. The clearing is properly secluded and big enough for us to draw the circle and runes. All casters present are well versed in magical arts and have attended enough rituals to go through preparations on their own in their sleep. For a whole waking group, the setting poses ten-minute-long opportunity for amicable chat, including double checking the whole setting. We even have enough time to double-check our looks. Marketing is important even, in our branch.

The night fell many hours ago and the moon is high. Mare in the Moon looks down on the land that resents her. Sometimes I have a feeling she glares at me.

Mare in the Moon on me blinks,

How I don’t care what she thinks.

I sing to myself to the melody of “Twinkle, Twinkle.” The noises of two ponies making their way through the bushes are now drawing closer. It is time to take our positions. As they enter the clearing, I study their faces.

The colt is definitely scared, and I can’t hold it against him. Seeing the ritual circle and twelve hooded ponies in threatening masks is much to take in. His father tries to hide his anxiety under indifference, but he too is visibly trembling. Good, that fear at least suggests he won’t try to cheat us with the payment.

Two of my coworkers bind the colt in shackles in the centre of the circle. We can’t have him run into the forest during the ritual. Not only would it break the spell, but he would likely set the forest on fire.

As the casters trot past me to their designated positions around the circle, I overhear a few hushed remarks about that jerk of a father and the ritual they pass among themselves. It is all right; they know we need the money from this job, but it doesn’t make them heartless.

To my, and mostly his, displeasure, that’s exactly what I have to do to him. His father wants to change his coat and mane color, so the coat and mane must disappear first. We rear up and flare up our horns. In precise synchronization we slam our front-hooves into the ground. Flames spring from the spots of impact and race along the lines of the casting circle to the unlucky colt. He cries out in utter terror as the fire touches his coat and set it ablaze at once. The spectacular fire-show loses its luster when compared to the beautiful play of leylines we orchestrate. They swirl and dance like a cobra under the spell of flute.

This part requires attention only from two of the casters - one to continue providing the flames and one to keep the vitals of the colt in check. Soon he will stop his cries.

I remember that after the first time I partook in a ritual, I had nightmares for weeks. Oh long lost days of innocence.

Finally all the fur is gone. It doesn’t make much of a difference to the colt that the firestorm ceased, but for the others, the relief is immediate. Burning fur smells really horrible. Thankfully, the next step only assaults the esthetic sense, which will be spared by the darkness.

I channel more magic toward the colt and force it into his veins. We need to rid his body of all blood before we start the DNA change. Blood contains white blood cells, which would kill him from the inside, and his father wouldn’t be pleased by presenting his son’s new coloration on the colt’s funeral.

Studying alchemy and poisons helps with such tasks. All I have to do is to simulate boomslang snake poison, and the blood leaves the colt’s body on its own. As anticipated, he is silent now; you would be too with your blood flooding your lungs and mouth. The lymphatic system is at the same time taken care of by the stallion standing opposite me. Therefore no immunity remains in colt’s body.

Time for the rest of the circle to get to work. We use the lines drawn on the ground to aim fractions of our own life energy into the colt, otherwise he would never see the end of the ritual. You can’t just continue living without blood.

We need to hurry now, so what little blood is left will be dealt with later via potions. Changing DNA is no easy matter, not to mention keeping the colt alive. But we will manage.

Magical flow from all casters ceases, and any unspent energy remaining in the air is left to slowly even out. The charcoal-black, collapsed form of the colt is lying in the middle of the circle, with movement only apparent from his mild breathing. The same pony who was overseeing the burning phase checks the colt’s vitals with a spell and signals me our success with a nod.

On that cue, I leave my post on the rim of the circle and walk across the clearing to our customer. From what I can tell, he didn’t move from that spot throughout the entire ritual. Actually, he didn’t consciously move at all. Watching black magic in action can prove to be quite hypnotic. One can’t tell whether it is caused by dread or fascination.

“The work is done, your wish is granted.” I claim calmly. My voice draws his attention and he snaps from his rigid state.

“You sick monsters! You should all be hanged! You abomination! Tartarus spawn! You...you…” I never learn what else me and my casters are in his opinion because my hoof striking his muzzle cuts his tirade off. Now I am not usually one for physical violence, and a rant from this pony couldn’t possibly insult me, but his hypocrisy called for punishment.

“Monsters? Abominations? Tell me who is worse, the pony who performs a ritual which causes suffering or the pony who buys this suffering for his own son?” I ask him in an even tone - using rage on this excuse for a pony would be a waste - as he scrambles back on his legs, his face showing utter shock. “Next time you want to insult somepony, just use your name. Now for the payment.”

He wisely keeps his mouth shut and reaches into his saddleback for a purse. I grip it in my magic aura, open it and quickly count the contents. 80,000 bits as agreed, good for him. I signal one of our pegasi guards, and he brings me a neatly wrapped package. I hand it to our customer.

“Since your son’s body wasn’t strong enough, we didn’t manage to get rid of all his original blood without endangering his life… unnecessarily. Thankfully we accounted for this possibility and prepared a sufficient amount of serum for forcing alien DNA to leave his body. Feed him one vial daily for two weeks.” With that I turn around and pay the still-shocked pony no more mind.

During my small chat, my coworkers took care of tidying the clearing. The symbols were erased and any burn marks washed away by rain delivered by our pegasi guards. Without further delay we get on our way.

We approach our headquarters, but something doesn’t feel right. As we get even closer, we start to hear many voices shouting military orders, and we smell the same thing as earlier in the evening – burning fur.

Our situation is pretty clear – the HQ has been found by Royal Guard. Actually… that probably isn’t accurate. The HQ has been shown to Royal Guard.

The whispering spreads among our group. Some can’t believe what happened, some are just sad about those still inside, others debate the escape routes. Yet they quickly regain composure as I utter three words in a hushed voice, “Form pairs, disperse!”

We trained for similar situations and how to react. Every caster is immediately flanked by a bodyguard, and then they silently vanish in different directions. All that are left are Fire Caller, my personal bodyguard, and I.

We still wear the masks, but I can easily guess he has the same look of curiosity and determination on his face. We will find out who betrayed us. Not that it really matters, we didn’t lose much in this little escapade, but revenge is always a nice thing.

Thankfully the Royal Guard has never been a silently working organization. A stampede of buffalos could run in circles in the forest around them and they wouldn’t notice. So it is really easy to slither into the proximity of the main entrance. The whole place is burning. They probably didn’t even bother to search through it first and decided to destroy the evil as quickly as possible.

“Typical Royal Guard. ‘Purge it with fire’ they yell and not once did they invite me.” Fire Caller mentions to me, “Tell you what, next time we stuff the headquarters with explosives.” His joking somehow complements the scene in front of us. Guards are currently trying to stop the forest blaze they have managed to set. Ah, when one doesn’t think ahead…

But as a good leader, I have to scold him a little.

“You know our friends were inside. We escaped this, but even the lives of rookies have their cost. Don’t act like what they say we are.” He turns his eyes to the ground, realizing what he was joking about. But now isn’t the time for brooding. We need to find the culprit.

They bring the informer along. They always do to ensure he dies if his information leads them to a trap. Mercy only to a degree. In the overall commotion, there are two static figures in the light of the fire. One of them wears a golden helmet marking him as the Captain of the Royal Guard. Oh well, nothing unexpected here. The second one… nothing unexpected here either. Vial Glass was, after all, one of the complainers.

He probably thinks that he is out of trouble now. Well, not really. Even if they give him amnesty, there are much worse fates than cleaning our messes, and we deliver them so effectively, though it will take time. Just to eliminate him, however painfully, would be too little for this traitorous worm. We will let him know we are there. That we know where he lives and that one day we will come. And then ...

Author's Note

This chapter draws inspiration from chapter "Memories good, bad and ugly" from Waking eyes

Paves the path

Creeping away from Royal Guard’s bonfire didn’t turn out to be a bigger challenge than getting close to it. I have no doubt Vial Glass would have told them that not everypony of our group was present in the headquarters this evening - that is if he had had that knowledge.

Of course he would have noticed the absence of my little task group, had he been present earlier that day. Yet the duty of acquiring food and other merchandise needed for day-to-day life fell to him on this fine day, so he had left in the morning.

Thanks to that, we are all now believed to be dead or quickly getting there in the smoldering heart of the building. The guards don’t pay any attention to their surroundings other than to extinguish any sparks carried by wind into the forest.

Thus the same trip that allowed that little whelp to betray us to authorities also prevented bigger damage to our organization. In retrospect, to send rookies unsupervised into the cities wasn’t my brightest idea.

Well, the future newcomers, and there will have to be many since we lost our current trainees in this attack, will most certainly get a set of chores excluding leaving the headquarters. Our long-term members (those with so many “crimes against nature” to their names that Princess wouldn’t pardon them) won’t be happy about their new responsibility, yet it will be necessary.

Caring primarily about logistical difficulties in such a situation may seem cold hearted, but as far as I am concerned it makes much more sense than falling to the ground stricken by an unbearable sadness of loss. Our brethren will be mourned and will be avenged, but there is a better time for that than now.

Problems at hand always gain priority over irreparable problems. After two hours of sneaking through the bushes at the best possible speed, I stopped. “We need to get rid of these capes before dawn.” I whisper in the direction I think Fire Caller is. We are far enough now, so there isn’t any need to be stealthy anymore, yet being sure of something usually means being wrong.

“What’s the big deal, just throw them into the garbage in the next town.” Fire obviously doesn’t follow my sentiment of not tempting fate. I swear to... whomever I’m supposed to swear to when my deities hate me, that he doesn’t follow the thought patterns known as 'reasonable' either.

“And sending the guard an invitation to our new housewarming party would be a nice finishing touch.” I retort snidely yet still quietly. “Those capes aren’t exactly a widespread fashion hit. If somepony finds them, guards will be after us quicker than Celestia after cake!”

“No need to be so mean about it. I’m just tired.” His voice betrays a slight hurt. After all, it was a really long night. “But you are right, we have to destroy them. Do you have any acid?” I look at him incredulously. “Alright, just making sure. Then burn them.”

I’m too tired, otherwise I would thank him for stating the obvious.

“Do you see any place shielded from view? If somepony saw fire, they might get suspicious.”

“You know, you were always paranoid when exhausted. It’s 6 in the morning. Ponies are still fast asleep at this time. And in the rare case somepony saw it, they would think it’s just a campfire, for pony’s sake!” Fire grows more aggravated as he continues his speech and ends it with his hooves thrown above his head.

I don’t enjoy admitting mistakes. Nopony does. But… he has a point.

“Sorry. It’s just getting to me. We could have avoided this mess, and I don’t want to bring more trouble by overlooking something.”

“Just do it already. The sun will rise soon.” He tries to sound angry, but he doesn’t have strength to anymore. Thankfully conjuring fire is a basic spell not requiring much energy. It also doesn’t take much time, so we were back on our way momentarily.

The moment of dispersion is also the moment in which the “everypony-for-himself” rule takes effect. Getting to the new hideout is their responsibility, and I am certain they will manage. And so will we. The journey can be made use of too.

As the leader, I take care of receiving the payment from our customers. Without written contracts, we have to handle the transactions in cash. Creating a veritable cover story for the bank would swallow precious resources and time and could backfire badly when proved false. That means I currently have 79,000 bits in 1,000 bit notes (thanks Celestia and her finance minister for discovering nominal value) and 1,000 bits in coins. Having some change makes us look natural in these situations.

We couldn’t very well take a pegasus-drawn carriage. Their records keeping is too meticulous. Trains are slower but provide much more privacy. A pony feels most alone while in a crowd, as the saying goes. Besides, the speed and directional journey were the last things we desired. We made as many direction shifts as possible to confuse possible pursuers. And the long train ride provided us with enough time to catch up on last night’s loss of sleep.

Somewhat refreshed, we disembark in Manehattan. As I said, when we have to travel, let’s make the best of it. This beautiful city hides many ponies who wouldn’t exactly be smiled upon if the subject of their undertaking were to be uncovered. And one of these will soon be graced with our visit.

“You know how I hate 'shopping.' Can’t somepony else do it instead?” Fire’s whining is starting to get repetitive. I would have expected him to develop some resistance to seeing corpses and viscera after so many years guarding our rituals, but I guess I can’t hold it against him so long as he doesn’t vomit onto our experiments.

“We are here, and somepony else isn’t. We can’t afford to waste more time.” I really should try to work on my irritation control. Now is as good a time as ever. “I would go there alone, but you know what sort he is.” His face says clearly that fulfilling his duty means more to him than keeping his stomach at peace. “When we finish the business, we can have a better lunch.” I try to use bribing to finish convincing him.

“No, we have lunch before we go there. I would rather lose that food after enjoying it than not manage to force it down my throat at all.” Fire bargains with a smirk on his face. We did rub on him after all.

“Fair enough, if it keeps you quiet…” A minor delay is little price for alleviating a bit of his discomfort. And when I think about it, I am hungry as well. We deserve a good lunch for the trouble of last night anyway.

I have to admit that calling the lunch detour “a minor delay” was a rather blatant understatement. The places serving actually edible food are of course located in more prosperous districts of the city, which do everything in their might to put a distance between themselves and the slums. The only reason the railway station wasn’t moved to a richer location was that poor ponies use trains too, and the elite of the society had no intention to look at them striding their streets.

Thus our itinerary grew in its length significantly - from the station to luxurious downtown, back through the neutral territory and into the filth of the slums. And since the lunch itself wasn’t a short affair either, I was quite certain that the night would catch us in this Celestia-forgotten Tartarus gate.

Not that spending time here during daytime brings any pleasantries. You are for example forced to look at all the shacks, half torn down houses and dirty, ugly foals running around among rats and debris, but when the sun is in the sky, the worst thing that can come your way are some insults thrown at you by creatures barely deserving the name “ponies.” Night, on the other hoof, poses an enormous threat to most outsiders.

Outsiders (although not endangered) we are. You don’t need to be a genius to say so much from our appearance. Just consider our races. A unicorn and a pegasus in an earth pony slum are approximately as inconspicuous as a griffin at a vegetarian buffet, and although I despise assuming anything from the coloration, my way of thinking represents insignificant minority of modern Equestrian society. As was with our last customer, and what that ritual could bring to him in terms of recognition. My charcoal black coat, long midnight blue mane and golden eyes don’t exactly yell “commoner” and Fire’s orange and crimson hues work for him the same way they do for poisonous tropical frogs. The only difference is those amphibians tend to be tiny and Fire is anything but. Really, he could probably march through Everfree and timberwolfs would run away from his path.

I don’t like “shopping” any more than Fire does, but I have vastly different reasons. While the biggest issue for him are the goods alone, I would rather change the merchants. Everything would be so much better, if Celestia saw further than on the tip of her muzzle…

Our research needs vast amounts of biological material. We can grow and improve any part of the pony body, but we need the most basic components - proteins, saccharides, lipids and so on - which are unique for ponies. We could, of course, simulate the metabolic processes, but when you need a paper, do you grow a forest, or just visit a stationary shop?

Ponies die everyday. If they have family, their relatives take care of the funeral and burial or cremation. If they were alone in the world or they didn’t die naturally (strange expression, what’s so unnatural on a knife in the heart causing death?), their body is brought into a morgue for the authorities to worry about. It works the same way everywhere, yet in the slums the bodies aren’t identified or counted.

One such morgue without proper records is administered by Peaceful Rest, our “friendly shopkeeper.” He is an earth pony of more than one profession yet not a single legal one. If there were a contest for most ironical name of Equestria, he would be one of the finalists. The corpses he gets his hooves on seldomly rest in peace. We, the black magic performers, aren’t the only ones with interest in dead bodies, and if the stench of Rest’s coat is to be trusted, he is his own most regular customer.

“Ahh, mr. Soaring Profit. I didn’t expect you today,” he says in a sickly sweet tone as we enter his ‘office’ if you can call this mess so. The amount of mold covering the walls, number of bugs running around the floor which hasn’t been swept once throughout the entire existence of the building and the odor in the air strongly hint that the potted plant in the corner is the only thing not alive in this room.

Peaceful Rest alone sits behind his writing desk. I’m not entirely sure what he needs one for since he doesn’t fill any paperwork ever. Well everypony needs a surface to place their cup of coffee on. He lifts his dark green hoof and tries to flatten his messy gray mane betraying his discomfort in the process. There were some stumbles in our business relationships in the past neither of us was happy about. Nopony tries to make fools of us and walks away unpunished. To top it off he looks tired and more unkempt than usual. He stinks worse too.

“I am all surprises from the beginning to the end, mr. Rest, you should know that by now.” My voice overflows with goodheartedness. The game of compliments can be played by two. He disgusts me to no end, but we need him. And this is his world, not ours, so violence isn’t viable option either.

“Yet If you had let me know, I could have prepared something special,” Rest complains, disappointment painted over his face.

For example a group of mercenaries. The thought completing Rest’s musing flashes through my mind, but I keep myself from voicing it. The conversation would turn into a monologue by now since Fire and I would lay on the ground with our heads cracked open and our possessions stolen. I wouldn’t even hold such action against you, I would probably act the same, were I in your place.

“You know that your standard deals are quite alright with us. No need to waste resources,” I smile maliciously. We both know the other pony understands. “Speaking of deals, let’s get to proper business.”

He turns around and takes a key from a hook on the wall behind his desk.

“Follow me. The normal composition of your orders, I suppose?” I am always amazed by his professional emotionless tone he uses when he talks about business affairs. We follow him through a dimly lit corridor to the morgue proper. The temperature is dropping constantly. Modern facilities cool only the coffins, yet here the whole place is freezing. On the bright side, the mold can’t withstand these conditions, so the environment becomes more healthy with each step we take.

“Yes, but there will be more. We need an extra liver and stomach. We will also need two bodies as a whole, a male and a female. Preferably with as little extraneous damage as possible, and in minimal state of decay.” At this point Fire’s face decides that exotic fauna isn’t sufficient and imitating local frogs might be a nice change. I only hope his statement about losing lunch won’t become reality. Peaceful Rest’s policy ‘you throw up on it, you buy it’ could make this visit really expensive.

A hungry grin appears on Rest’s face. After spending years doing the same transactions on daily basis, he could calculate the price on a whim, and he obviously liked the cipher he got. “Let me search my stock, I have so many wonderful choices for you to decide. This week has been very fruitful.” He and I have one thing in common. We both do a job we love from the heart…

Rest wasn’t exaggerating in the slightest. The amount of… material we could choose from turned out to be abundant. To be honest, I felt like a foal in a sweet shop.

To my surprise, Fire helped me immeasurably with choosing best corpses. His has kept the memories of training undisturbed by later experience with experiments (yes, even those without magical abilities are trained) so it turns out he understands what would be most practical for explaining anatomy. And once we don’t need the educational aids anymore, everything can be used as a raw material.

Fire… he took it rather well in the end, although the saying regarding the sweet shop would fit for him, only if he were a foal with tummy ache. I would have spared him of the “shopping” itself, but there was no telling what would Rest do.

Courtesy of Rest, we were escorted back to the middle class district by some of his ruffians. We don’t have to worry about carrying anything, our purchases will be delivered to our contact and transported with high level of secrecy to us later. Cooling spells allow such machinations. And he wouldn’t dare to cheat us. He isn’t the only one with a ‘mercenaries’ club card.’

“Do we have to travel right away?” Fire asks as we approach the station. “The limit after the dispersion is three days, we have a lot of time to spare.”

“Yes, we have to.” I reply simply. He doesn’t seem satisfied with my answer, so I elaborate: “We aren’t in a hurry to get to HQ, you are right in that. But we need to get away from Manehattan as fast as possible. Slums are big, but not that big, and if somepony saw us leaving that place, we should better get lost.”

“Right,” he grumbles. “The whole of Equestria is after us.”

“More than you would think. Just yesterday one of our own members betrayed us. What do you expect from others? I might be going overboard with safety, but we aren’t exactly the most loved group. I refuse to rely on luck.”

He sighs, but doesn’t protest anymore. “How many transfers do you have planned?” The resignation in his voice doesn’t exactly lighten the mood.

“Two. But we will buy first class compartment with food included for every journey.” He visibly perks up after my statement. Little things really make life more bearable, and he definitely remembers to enjoy some of them.

Fire didn’t fail my expectations regarding his epicureanism which in his case translates to gluttony. Every time I see him eat, I thank the stars Fire wasn’t chosen as a model for our design of artificial pony’s digestive system. But I suppose Fire’s physical constitution makes this nutritional income understandable.

Apart from Fire’s feast our journey carried out without any significant events, and when the noon of the next day came, we disembarked our final train in Colton. We chose the city as our next seat for its multiracial population and snobbish lifestyle. In places like this you have to pay extreme attention to your public appearance because gossip of any mishap spreads like a wildfire, but nopony questions how you get your money or what happens inside the walls of your mansion.

That is another advantage of this place - big mansions aren’t suspicious in the least and are obtainable from any real estate agency. Wide and deep cellars are built in every single one too. We purchased one a few years ago to create a backup plan for situations similar to the one we are in now, and chose one of our members to play the role of an estate owner and noblepony.

During the preparations and moving itself we assigned everypony with a role to play in Colton. I, as the head of the group, get to be the noble’s brother who decided to pay his relative a long-term visit, yet often needs to supervise his actives in other cities in person. That leaves me with absolute freedom of movement. The rest is to be found in the columns “Staff” and “Security” on the paycheck. Nobleponies are known to keep extensive households after all.

We took the coach from the station. Walking a mile to our “brother’s” home would be considered uncouth in the eyes of high society. This is the first time I see our new home in person - showing up here before the actual move could damage our cover story. I use this as an excuse for being deeply impressed by the estate’s looks. The pristine white, two-storeys-high stone building with columns at the entrance and with a blue tile roof is located among the trees and flower beds of a big, well-kept garden. The pompous iron-rod gate opens in front of us on its own accord, and we tread a wide road made of white gravel leading to the door. Our noblepony is already waiting for us at the doorstep.

“Brother! What a pleasure that you finally arrived. My friends were constantly asking me why you hadn’t shown up yet. Why, oh why did you make us all wait?” he shouts out jovially once we get within 30 feet from him. We didn’t choose our actor randomly, he knows his craft well, and his silver mane and dark purple coat complement his role perfectly.

“You wouldn’t believe, dear Nightwind, how some of my business partners stall even the most basic of transactions. I swear to Celestia there should be a law against such behavior. It only keeps us from important things in life,” I reply in a feigned bored and frustrated tone. Fire only rolls his eyes at our charade. He has always been more straightforward.

“I couldn’t agree with you more, dear Midnight. But let’s get inside. One can always talk better in a comfortable seat and with brandy in the hoof.” New place, new name. He beckons us inside and we gladly accept his invitation.

The moment the door close behind us we drop the pretending. “Gather everypony for a briefing in an hour. We need to discuss next course of action, but not before Fire and I get some time to refresh ourselves,” I command simply.

“I will bring my report there. Everything will be taken care of, sir,” he assures as he shows us our rooms. “I will send you some drinks to your rooms. I have to go to the kitchen anyway, the cook needs to be told there are two more to be catered for from now on.” With that NIghtwind leaves. I applaud the way he takes host’s duties to his heart. Hopefully others do well too.

The conference room rebuilt from one of the cellars breathed with style and luxury. Two crystal chandeliers illuminate a dark-blue long-fiber carpet and heavy velvet curtains of slightly lighter hue which muffle the echo of the underground hall. The paintings hanging on the white walls between the curtains reinforce the calm feeling of the place. Members of our group are seated on cushions around a round eben table. Some of the places are empty. Too many. Three pairs from dispersion haven’t arrived yet, but those have still time before the limit expires and they are presumed dead. The other ten places hurt much more. Nine of us had stayed behind and perished in the fire. The tenth one would host Vial. He will soon see the horrors of Tartarus in retaliation for those nine empty places.

“As you all heard from your friends or saw for yourself, we were betrayed, and our brothers paid for it with their lives,” I begin the meeting with what troubles all of us the most. ”Fire Caller and I managed to sneak close enough to identify the culprit. Lieutenant Storm Gust, contact our pony in Royal Guard and ensure we know about the place of residence and all movements of Vial Glass.” Some of my anger is imminent in my voice. The faces of those present don’t show much of a surprise. They probably expected to hear this name.

“Now to our current situation. Frost Blossom, would you please report the state of our main project and equipment?” I ask in a calmer tone.

The addressed snow white unicorn mare with a sky blue mane gets up and walks to where I stand. She is the leading scientist of our group and spends most of her time in our laboratory. Although she believes in our cause, she refuses to take part in the rituals we use to raise money. I can understand that, and it doesn’t really hinder us. After all, the more important the pony is, the more conditions they can have.

“Most of our devices were thankfully moved in time, as were the notes and biological samples. All the parts of main project that weren’t destroyed by Vial’s ignorance are in pristine and ready state. The heavier and built-in parts of our laboratorium were of course destroyed, but replacing and rebuilding them shouldn’t be hard. The real problem is the lack of supplies, but this problem wasn’t caused by the fire, as you know,” she professionally recites.

I smile at her and nod. “That won’t be a problem anymore. On the way here we made a detour to Manehattan to see one of our friends. Our last contract brought us 80,000 bits, so we took the liberty to order necessary materials as well as new anatomical aids for future trainees.”

“So you plan to bring new recruits?” one of the lieutenants, earth pony called Saber Sharp, asks. Even though the security department didn’t lose anypony, his trainer nature senses an opportunity to get something to do.

“Yes, guards, scientists and casters alike. We will need them more than ever now that we are getting close to fulfilling our goal,” I smile and the expression is mimicked by most of the others.

“When will the supplies arrive?” Frost reminds us of technical aspects again.

“They should be delivered in six days. The work will start immediately after that. Once the remaining pairs appear, send them directly to me. For now please return to your tasks. I will come to each of you during the afternoon to discuss the new policy of duty distribution.”

With that the assembled ponies start to get up and leave the room. I decide to stay for a little while longer. The room really calms my mind, a trait that will be very important in the days to come. We are back on track, which means much more stress. But it will be worth it.

For others

Few years later

Regrowing the organs of our golem pony lost in the Vial Glass incident went as expected - it was a monotonous, uninteresting, and time consuming activity. Meticulously kept documentation regarding them along with the step-by-step instructions of the production process stole any excitement of novelty from the task. Thus boredom became defining sign of these years for scientists and casters alike.

That doesn’t mean the organs didn’t get proper care and attention. Those assigned to supervise the regrowth remained as vigilant as when we did this first time around. Only the required number decreased. Although the rest of the team busied themselves with planned durability tests of the remaining golem pony parts, the scientists still had to deal with more free time than they were used to. Which also brought me into my current predicament.

“Please tell me you are only joking in really inappropriate way. Please, Frost, do this for me,” I say in tired and slightly desperate tone. Had it been anypony else than Frost Blossom who requested this, they would have flown out of my office with my magic as propulsion by now. Who knows, maybe some speed record would have been broken. But that white unicorn has her privileges.

“You know I wouldn’t joke about this. We need more time to utilize the brain modifications I added as my free time project. I need you to delay the assembling ritual,” Frost crashes my hopes while keeping her voice calm but filled with urgency.

“But the last report the team delivered stated that all tests were finished! What does that brain need time for now?” I exclaim in the last attempt to avert inevitable.

“Oh, the tests are finished, as is the brain. It is you who we need the time for.” She points her hoof at me and smiles victoriously.

Confusion suddenly drowns all my other feeling.

“Me? What does this have to do with me?”

“The improvements I made will show, only if our artificial pony gets an actual mind. They have a strong connection to magic abilities, so I need a unicorn mind, and you are the only pony who wouldn’t reject me, so I already tuned the brain to host you.”

I open my mouth few times in an attempt to force some words out. She notices my state, walk to the cabinet to my left and pulls a bottle of whiskey out of it. Apart from me, she is the only pony who knows about that bottle, and at the moment I am very happy she does. The drink snaps me from my shock and opens the way for a rant.

“And you tell me this just like that?! You expect me to switch bodies, and you don’t even tell me about it beforehand! Not to mention, actually asking if I’m even willing to do so?!” I shout now standing, with my front hooves pushing into the wood of my desk so hard it causes indentations.

She shrinks into herself a bit, and with a sheepish smile says: “It… might have slipped my mind? Sorry about that…”

It is extremely hard to stay angry seeing her like this. I sit back down and lay my head on my hooves.

“I don’t suppose you could reverse the tuning?” She only shakes her head looking apologetically, allowing me to continue. “How much time do I have and what is the preparation procedure?”

“Three months. Then the neurons collapse due to the absence of activity. So you will go through with it?” she asks, sounding slightly incredulously.

“I don’t have a choice. We would be losing time again,” I let my resignation creep into my voice. “Once more, what do you want me to do now?”

She visibly perks up at my acquiescence.

“The first phase consists of meditations and learning to separate the mind from the physical part of your being. In the second phase we will withdraw your presence from every limb of yours, and then in the third one we relocate your mind into a crystal.” Her enthusiasm annoys me to no end.

“Charming. So you want me to stop moving, then you slowly cut my body to pieces and turn me into an intelligent stone? I can’t wait to start...” I recapitulate while glaring at her.

“Basically, yes,” she beams, completely oblivious of my sarcasm. “I will prepare everything, and we will begin right after lunch. Oh, and I need to alter the skull to grow a horn. And set the coloration! Got to go, see you soon!” And with that she runs out of the door.

I lean back closing my eyes and massage my temples. Why did it have to be Frost who brought this mess? She has a point, I can’t say no to her. Frost and I, as well as Fire Caller, joined the organisation almost at the same time and have been close friends ever since. If somepony has the right to claim they know me, it is her, and vice versa.

We helped each other climb the hierarchy. Ever since I became the leader, she has had completely free hand with her research, and I must say there were some very crazy projects she came up with. But roping me into mind transfer without asking me first tops them all.

Our original intention was to create an actual golem. It would perform actions based on magical commands and lack any initiative or creativity. We didn’t even consider giving it a free will, even though it is a well known praxis. The timberwolves are shining, although messy, amateurish and out-of-control example of that. Mind transfer, on the other hand, is still sparsely visited territory, and the success rate of these attempts is about fifty percent.

But I trust Frost. I have to. My hasty consent to participating in her project leaves me with no other chance. I refuse to lose face and disappoint her by revoking my decision.

I slowly wake from the state of deep meditation. The mind separation procedure consists mostly of convincing myself on the most subconscious level that I have no body. Which sounds much easier than it turns out to be.

Unlike during the first few sessions, I need neither medication numbing my limbs, nor Frost’s guidance to perform the separation. At first I thought that putting me into an artificial body was a spur-of-the-moment idea, but from the vast amount of knowledge Frost has on meditation techniques and everything even slightly related to mind transfer I suspect she has planned this from the first stages of our project.

Even though she doesn’t actively participate in my mental exercises anymore, Frost insists on being present to every meditation I undergo. Vast number of things can go wrong; the body can fall into a shock or a sudden disturbance in magical laylines disrupts the balance of my mind, and my life would be gravely endangered. So I’m not surprised in the slightest that upon opening my eyes I see her in the same spot where she was when I started.

“Hello again. Still enraptured by my unconscious form, I see. I wonder if there is a scientific name for that fascination,” I tease her while sitting up on the plain bed I was meditating on.

“Yes, concern for a friend,” she shoots back, annoyance clear in her voice.

She gets up from her chair, the only other piece of furniture in this underground plain white room, and walks to me. I immediately wipe the smirk from my face. Sitting there and watching my unmoving body for any sign of trouble must be one of the most boring chores imaginable, and she still doesn’t allow anypony else to take it over for a single session.

“Sorry, I just wanted to lighten up the mood. I know you care, and I appreciate it.” I turn my eyes to the ground.

She puts a hoof under her chin and seems lost in her thoughts.

“Now that I think about it, I do prefer your unconscious self. You at least keep your mouth shut when you are out,” she states after few seconds, smiling slyly.

“I get that alot. So was there anything interesting today?” I decide to turn our conversation to important things rather than defend my qualities of a charming conversationalist.

“The results of my measuring show that when you were in the strongest part of meditation, the connection between your mind and body shrank to five percent of a normal volume. Congratulations, you passed the first phase of your preparation one whole week sooner than I thought possible.” She claps her hooves, smiles proudly at me, and makes her way to the door. “We can start the second phase right away, I will get the supplies we need!”

“Frost, wait!” I get up and follow her out of the room. “I wanted to finish the phase early so I would have some time for myself. I need to do something before the ritual in case the transfer…”

She stops in the middle of the hallway and places a hoof on my shoulder. “You know that I will make sure to minimize the risks. You will be fine.” She smiles but I have to wonder who she tries to reassure more - me or herself.

“I trust you,” If I didn’t, I would find a quicker way to commit suicide I think, a smile on my lips, “but when we succeed, it will take weeks, maybe even months before I gain full control of the body and its perks.”

I lead Frost into one of the labs. “And I would hate to let Vial wait any longer anyway.”

At the first glance the lab looks deserted; all the equipment lays inactive on the tables. But the first impressions often are deceiving. We manage to make only few steps inside before a light green ball of nervous energy flies into our faces.

“Good afternoon, Chant Circle, sir! I was just thinking about going to find you,” the green blur says. Then it takes a step back, and we see it is a unicorn with a gold mane. As he waits for us to speak, he is constantly shifting weight from one hoof to the other.

Before I can say a word, Frost quips from behind me: “So much for manners, I see.”

All of the sudden the unicorn calms down and shrinks into himself. “I’m sorry, ma’am, I didn’t see you.”

A genuine smile appears on my face, a rare sight as of lately. Forest Twist is one of the trainees who joined us after Vial’s betrayal. Since his first day he has been known among our group for his boundless enthusiastic approach to our research and generally to anything scientific. That’s why I gave him a special assignment few weeks ago. Sadly, his other important trait is a catastrophic deficit of attention toward the everyday world surrounding him. He exhibits both proclivities every minute of his waking time in equal measure.

“You won’t make that mistake again, I’m sure. And I take it you finished the project I asked you to prepare.” He nods fervently. “Good. Be so kind and follow me now, I would like to explain the rules of outside actions to you. You just earned the right to partake in our next ritual, so you need to know the routines.”

“You mean it, sir?” He asks incredulously, with great amount of hope in his voice.

“Of course. After all, who else should lead the incantation than its architect?” Till the end of my days I will never see happier face than Forest wears at this moment.

“So once we finish this, Frost will start cutting your limbs off?” Fire asks while we are waiting crouched behind some old boxes in a dark alleyway.

“Not literally at first, but yes. I will enter second phase of the preparation and slowly withdraw my presence from my body.” and thanks for reminding me. I add in my head.

“So this is kind of your bachelor’s party, right?” I look at him thoroughly confused. “I mean, after today, you will lose all your freedom, and you will be at the mercy of a mare.” He hardly contains laughter at this point. I facehoof at his thought processes, but I decide play along.

“If you see it that way, you are doing a poor job at being my best stallion. I haven’t seen a dance or a single bottle of cider here yet,” I retort with a grin, although its effect is diminished by the mask I’m wearing.

“How would I pay for that with the salary I get?” he asks pointing his hoof at me accusingly. “But don’t worry, I heard there will be fireworks later toni…” He trails of, and his ears perk up. He gestures for me to stay silent, and peaks over the top of the box. When he turns back to me, I can sense his evil smile as he says “Our guest of honor has arrived.”

I move slightly to the side to get Fire out of my line of sight, and watch a pony shape move down the road. As the light from one of the lampposts meets the shape, a light orange mane and a magenta coat became recognisable. It is Vial Glass, there is no doubt in my mind. Underneath the mask I bare my teeth in a predatory grin.

After burning down our old hideout, the Royal Guard prepared a trial with Vial in which he was found guilty of crimes against nature, harmony and ponykind, but they pardoned him from punishment for his help in the supposed destruction of our group. To prevent any possible attempts of our families to get revenge, he was given new identity and moved to secret location. Yet very few things remain secret when there is an informant among the Royal Guard. We’ve kept an eye on Vial during all the years since his betrayal.

He created a new life for himself. In a sense I felt proud of him when I learned he had graduated Celestia’s Academy of Medicine with flying colors. At least he stayed true to helping ponies, even though he rejected our ways. However, his past affected his new life too. He could have gained a place in any major hospital across Equestria, but the Royal Guard stepped in and forced him to hide in a clinic of a backwater town. He soon fell into a routine, his time schedule never changing, just like his route from home to work and back. Up until today. There is a nice walk ready for him.

I give Fire a sign to wait. Vial walks past our alleyway and seems to be deep in thought; that will make our first step much easier. We give him ten seconds start and then leave our hiding spot. He hasn’t gone too far yet, there is obviously nothing he desires to get home to quickly.

The streets of every small town like this one are completely abandoned at this late hour. Ponies working during the day are already home, most of them probably asleep, and those doing the night shift got to their workplaces hours ago. Vial is an exception; from the reports about his life we learned he tends to work overtime.

Of course, there is a chance of a lone wanderer or a pair of lovebirds, but I believe anypony in their right mind will stay at home tonight. The weather pegasi obviously forgot it is the end of April, not November. A cold wind carries a few stray papers past us as it tries to freeze anything in its way, and the clouds above mask the moon behind their black shapes.

We are keeping a steady distance while following him on the dark side of the street. It is not the time to reveal our presence. Vial is trudging along the houses on the other side, glancing at the shop windows and occasionally stopping to get a better look at something. From what I recall about my own stroll down this street during the afternoon - I was bored out of my mind from the waiting - there is nothing that could catch his interest in those windows. He must know that as well, he walks this route every day after all. If I didn’t know better, I would say he is prolonging his journey just to spite us.

Finally, he arrives at the point where the street divides; the way on the left leads to his house, the right one is the shortest way out of town. He turns to his usual path, but freezes on the spot. Two hooded figures emerge from shadows and are walking toward him. He shudders and turns around. Fire and I have stopped under a lamppost so he can’t miss our presence or our attire. We haven’t changed the design of our robes since the days of Vial’s membership, so he has no trouble recognising them right away.

Vial looks shocked, and even though he doesn’t panic yet, he chooses to go down the road not leading directly to his house rather than to meet the ponies reminding him of his past. In reaction to his decision we start moving again as well, now reinforced by those two. After about fifteen seconds he turns around to see if anypony is following him. Our quartet is there for him to behold, of course. We are walking spread across the entire width of the street. He picks up his speed. Every few seconds he looks over his shoulder and his pace is quickening with every reprise of that exercise.

At last, he reaches a left turn that would take him in the direction of his house. Even from this distance the relieve in his stance is apparent. He makes his way to the corner, and stops in his tracks once again. I can’t see them from here, but according to our plan another two hooded figures are currently facing towards now hyperventilating Vial.

He turns his head back to where he came from and once again sees the four of us standing fifty feet from him. He swallows and shakily says: “Ok, that was enough.” A single muscle doesn’t move in our bodies.

“Look, I don’t know how you learned about the coven thing, and you seriously scared me, but this joke is running old!” he continues and chuckles nervously. We don’t react to him now either.

“Punch Pear, stop it! This isn’t funny!” he is almost pleading, looking straight at Fire Caller. I have no idea who this Punch Pear is, probably just some prankster friend of Vial who has a similar build like Fire.

Small look of hope runs across Vial’s face as we are approaching him once again. It disappears the moment Fire answers him in an amused tone, “You got the name wrong. Otherwise, I agree, this is rather boring. But don’t worry, the funny part will come soon.”

Vial’s eyes widen in terror. He rears on his hindlegs and gallops away from us. We are pursuing him, matching his speed. Every now and then we pass alleyways and streets crossing the one we are running down. A hooded figure emerges from every single one. They position themselves all around and even above Vial. He is now heightening the tempo constantly. We are leaving the town limits. The intensity of the wind grows because no houses or other buildings are impeding its blasts anymore.

The forest, our destination, towers just behind a grassy field. At this point Vial probably doesn’t even realize where he is heading. The panic stricken pony is just madly dashing forward. He isn’t slowing down, even though the undergrowth is thickening with every step. Then we break free from the trees and enter a well-hidden clearing. Vial brakes to the halt immediately, his eyes getting even wider at the sight before him. He is visibly trembling from exertion and deadly fear and soon collapses to the ground, sobbing.

“No, no, please no. This is just a dream. No, you aren’t here, you are dead!” he is muttering between sobs. His body is convulsing so badly that it seems he is close to vomiting.

One of the hooded figures who has been waiting for my group in the clearing levitates a glass of water to every participant of the chase, except, of course, Vial Glass. It was truly a tiring run, and we underestimated Vial’s physical capabilities. Or more exactly the power of his dread. While I recover from the chase, I take a closer look at the scene that brought Vial to a break down.

The setting was prepared under Forest’s direct lead without my assistance or advice. The magic diagram drawn on the ground is one of the most complicated I have ever seen. Four concentric circles filled with runes are connected by twelve lines running from the center to points on the outermost ring. The resulting sections are equal in size. Eleven casters are already standing at their positions, the place opposite to Forest, the leader of the ritual, who is standing on the apex of the diagram is reserved for me.

Between the casters are stands with blue crystals on top. These will block any energy escaping the circle and return it into the sway and soundproof the place. In the middle of the whole setting is a neatly stacked truncated-pyramid-shaped pile of wood about six feet high and with enough space on top of it to fit a pony. Four shackles lay on it, the chains firmly rooted in the ground.

All but two of my fellow chasers are already forming an outer ring of ponies, joining the others who have been in the clearing from the beginning. The two remaining are flanking the shaking body lying on the ground in the fetal position.

Only our guards were supposed to chase Vial to this place at first, but I couldn’t pass the opportunity to see his face in the moment of his epiphany. I wanted to witness our revenge from the beginning to the end.

I walk to Vial, kneel down to him and say only: “Today you pay,” and stand back again. Some of our members with more theatrical tastes petitioned to me to lead a trial with Vial, and condemn him in the manner that the Princess would. I had to remind them that the punishment for treason and assistance in murder - which are basically the crimes Vial committed from our perspective - is a lifetime imprisonment which differs from our plan drastically and that we aren’t seeking justice, but revenge.

The pegasi lift him into the air, and I walk to my designated place. As they carry him to the platform, he turns his face to me and in pleading tone says: “Please, don’t hurt my friends.”

I nod. So he has some character after all. Or at least understands that begging us to stop would be futile.

“They didn’t do anything to us, we have no reason to harm them. You have my word that we will leave them alone.”

The pegasi shackle Vial in place. He doesn’t even resist, mentally preparing to burn. Soon he will find out how wrong he is in his assumption. Forest raises his head and adjusts his stance. This is his show, and he wants it to be grand.

“My honored brethren, today our dead friends finally achieve peace, as we avenge them.” He turns directly to Vial and points a hoof at him “Glass always has to go through fire for its true character to be revealed. After today, everypony will see what you truly are. Traitor, Coward. Tartarus spawn.”

I wonder just how many books about ancient mages Forest read that he pulls off such speech. But after how complicated ritual he orchestrated for today, I am willing to let him act all high and mighty here.

Vial is hyperventilating again. One of the things we teach our trainees is that there are much worse fates than death. He remembers this lesson well now and realizes that one of these fates is awaiting him.

Forest brings his raised hoof to the ground with a great force. At the impact, flames burst out at the base of the wooden pile. Twelve horns simultaneously light up. In place of the various colors of our standard magic auras only one appears, the ruby red of the black magic. The light is crawling along the lines on the ground. It reaches the crystals, and they start to emanate. Then all the symbols on the ground shine with our magical energy, and the fire in the centre turns red as well.

The time for the actual casting comes. Forest’s magic streaming from his twelve o’clock position delivers orders to the rest of us, and we follow without question. Vial’s skin is separating from the flesh, and all the fur goes with it. As soon as it falls of, the skin turns to dust which is then consumed in flames. Blood is running from thousands of places all over Vials exposed muscles.

The bestial scream coming from his mouth never ceases and he is fighting with all his strength to break the chains. Even the biggest enemy of euthanasia would release him from the cares of the world by now. Under normal circumstances Vial would be long since unconscious, but the ponies standing on two, six and ten o’clock positions - that includes myself too - make sure that this mercy never comes. Because of him our friends burned to death, so it is only fair that he will find out how it feels to have one’s body destroyed.

Forest works on DNA changes while the others reduce the body mass and reform the bones. The ribs crack and force the air from Vial’s lungs. Useless flesh is rotting on the body and falling off in huge chunks. The teeth are pushed out of the gums by the new set. They clatter against the wood and fall into the fire.

The flames are licking the rims of the platform, and the color of our magic shifts to bright purple. New parts are forming on Vial’s body sporting about half of his original size by now. Hooves are broken to pieces and each shard is turning into a finger with a claw. The tail thickens and spikes form on the upper side of it as well as along his spine and head.

We are almost done. The final transformation is up to Forest. He hesitates for a moment, admiring the work done so far. Then he rears up and slams his hooves into the ground once more. A violent wave of magic rushes to the fire. The flames surge thirty feet into the sky and rob the view on Vial from us. Dark roar is flooding the air. It’s not just the fire. Behind its curtain the powers of Tartarus brought forth by Forest finish what we started, and let us know about their presence loudly.

Sudden silence fills the clearing, as if all sounds left the world at once. The fire is mostly quenched and the lines on the ground vanished, consumed by the spell. Amidst the searing cinders a bizarrely shaped body is lying, unmoving. Forest and I step forward at the same time and cast a light spell. The rays from our horns are falling on a small reptile form. Magenta scales and orange spikes reflect the light. I look into the yellow eyes of the creature. The stare of vertical, snake-like pupils speaks of fear and pain.

“You brought flames upon us. Through flames you were born. And flames are your fate forever more. Because from this day on, Vial Glass, you will live your live as a salamander,” I state calmly and turn away. I know there will be no response to my words. Salamanders don’t speak.

Although turning Vial into salamander was my idea, it took Forest’s genius to perfect it. Black magic would be sufficient for shapeshifting of Vial’s body and even granting him correct characteristics, but his mind wouldn’t change and a skillful unicorn would be able to communicate with Vial or reverse our work entirely. Bringing the taint of Tartarus into the spell ensured that the realm of the damned accepted this creature as its spawn. There isn’t a pony in Vial’s new body.

“You did a fine job, Forest Twist. You deserve the rank of caster. From now on I expect you to partake in all of our rituals,” I praise and extend my hoof. Forest takes it and bows his head.

“Thank you, sir, it is an honor.”

Nopony else says another word. We collect our equipment, destroy all traces of our presence and leave Vial and the clearing to their fate.

Logistics of escaping the scene of the ritual turned out to be very simple. We still tried to be as inconspicuous as possible, but when there is nopony looking for you, the chance you get caught is very thin.

We formed pairs just like the night of Vial’s betrayal, and chose different paths and means of travel to get back to our headquarters. We even made sure to arrive at different times. Everything for safety.

Fire and I enter the mansion, and the memory of our first arrival returns to me. This time, however, it is Frost who welcomes us.

“Finally you are here. I hope you enjoyed your little outing. You know what I think about such irresponsible actions,” she castigates me.

Fire continues walking. He is humming Mendelpony’s ‘Wedding March’, reviving his ‘bachelor party’ analogy from last night. I see his point now and shake my head.

“It had to be done, If nothing else, Forest Twist got his chance to prove himself. And he did so extremely well,” I turn my eyes to the top of the staircase to make sure Fire is listening. He is, and I force myself into a sincere and serious tone.

“But now my body and soul belong only to you, Frost, in good and bad, in health and in illness, until I get better body or the death claims me.”

A loud thud and guffaws are heard from the stairs. Fire obviously lost it. His merriness is infectious because soon I join in the full blown laughter. Frost’s look of confusion turns into one of irritation. She throws her forelegs over her head with a huff and strides away mumbling something about immature archmages and silly guards.

To claim the praise

I always appreciated how organized our coven is. When ponies need to work together, the success doesn’t depend only on their ability to help each other, but also on how well they stay out of each other’s ways. The members of the coven form three specialized units, each of them following their specific duties and demanding the other two to do so as well.

The first unit is formed of guards. As expected, they ensure our safety, while we perform the rituals, and keep nosy ponies away from our headquarters. Apart from few veterans, they were all hoofpicked by their current lieutenant, Fire Caller. Of forty-five current members of the guard twenty-four are earth ponies with the rest being pegasi. We know that unicorns can hold their ground in battle too, but they can serve us better in other units.

Before anypony joins the active duty of our guard, they have to pass both physically and mentally straining training lead by Sabre Sharp, veteran of Royal Guard. I tend to think that those resolved enough to pass all tests he has prepared believe in our thing so firmly they would protect us till their last breath.

Sabre Sharp’s decision to join our coven meant much good for us at the time because not only were he already well versed in fight, he also lectured us on the workings of the Royal Guard investigations. As a trainer he is entitled to carry the rank of lieutenant, but his orders are obligatory only for trainees, and he still answers to unit lieutenant.

Scientists belong to the second unit. Their goal is easy to state but hard to fulfill - they examine genetic code of ponies, manipulate it to erase imperfections, and design spells allowing us to implement these changes into living body via rituals. Right after her promotion, Frost Blossom, the lieutenant of scientists, assured me that she is capable enough to train her recruits alone. The scientists learn permanently with their work progressing and theories changing daily, even more so with twenty dedicated members of the team, so it is understandable that formal training would actually hinder any newcomer.

The last but not least unit is the one of casters. Counting twenty-five unicorns, they bring scientists’ ideas to life and suggest new projects to initiate. In fact, the casters often offer their direct help to the scientists when these struggle with creating of new spells. Knowledge of magical theory is valuable, but expertise gained in years everyday use of particular kind of magic is priceless.

The trainer-lieutenant of casters unit doesn’t get to enjoy the luxury of our headquarters too often, yet I have never heard her complain. Whisper Charm is dedicated to locating promising young unicorns and bringing them to us before official organisations can claim those prodigies for themselves. We don’t take foals from their parents, and I wonder how this nasty rumor even appeared. Some inattentive parents probably let their foals play in dangerous places, and when the inevitable harm befell them, the parents chose to fabricate a tale about kidnappers rather than accept rightful punishment. Of course, the old saying that a rule without exceptions isn't a rule at all applies on my statements too. We have taken some foals against their will, only if they are already lost to normal life.

The rest of the potential trainees have the capacity to choose their path. I admit, Charm can be very persuasive and seductive, so most of the candidates actually join our ranks willingly. For the others there are memory spells.

The post of caster lieutenant doesn’t mean just leading the casters, it comes with the title of Grandmaster, leader of the whole coven. He coordinates the actions of all three units and leads the negotiations with our customers. For the last ten years these titles have belonged to me, and I believe I have done well so far.

There is one task in which the members of all three units participate: acquiring supplies. After we relocated our headquarters to Colton, we decided to change the routines. Only the trustworthy members take turns in shopping and supplying now. Nightwind Song proved to be skillful organiser, so there were no objections to promoting him to the position of lieutenant for supplying.

I always appreciated our system, but in the last two weeks my feelings intensified to the point of adoration. If the Grandmaster were to order everypony directly, the coven would collapse now. But since the units operate on their own, my current complete indisposition doesn’t pose the slightest threat. The casters don’t need their lieutenant now anyway, there are no rituals for them to perform until the time for mind transfer comes.

As I am slowly drifting back to consciousness, I can’t stop myself from shuddering in dread. My presence has been already retracted from my limbs, and step by step I lose feeling in my torso. What’s worse, Frost forbid me from using magic. She said it would reverse the retraction. No matter how hard I trained the meditational separation of body and mind, I can’t get used to being crippled in this way. I lie here completely defenseless, reliant on others.

Frost prepared this room shortly before our revenge mission. It is located next to the laboratories, so she doesn’t have to carry needed reagents too far away. She was never one for unnecessary decorations, but her practical self outdid itself here. Everything in this room is pure white. The walls, the floor, the table with medical supplies in the left corner, bed sheets and my metal-frame bed, simply everything. I didn’t mind it at first, but during my third waking time here - thanks to the lack of windows, I can’t say whether it is day or night - I decided I would send Frost Blossom into polar regions for a holiday, once this ordeal would be over.

Waking up means only one thing - Frost is coming. She will either help me cut myself from another part of my body, or order some more mental exercises. More pain and exertion is waiting for me in either case. Again. The door open noiselessly, but the small gust of wind ruins the moment of surprise. The senses really sharpen when you are cut from distracting feelings from inside of your body.

The sound of her steps is getting closer and then vanishes. I can feel her hoof stroking my cheek - under normal circumstances she wouldn’t do something so personal, even though we are close friends, but patting my foreleg has no effect since that memorable moment few weeks ago when I lost all sense in my appendages.

“Are you awake, Chant?” she asks softly. I open my eyes to humor her. “Good morning, have you slept well?” she continues with a smile.

“How would I know? Your potion-induced sleep doesn’t bring dreams, and there isn’t much of me in need of rest left. So I think it’s me who should ask, if I slept well.” I would cross my forelegs on my chest, but alas.

“Grumpy again, I see,” Frost says in a colder tone and frowns slightly.

“Wouldn’t you be in my situation? In my state I have no reason to be in a good mood. Stripped of the body and magic, I’m confined in this Celestia damned white room. And the prospect that I might die in few weeks isn’t exactly exhilarating!” I retort, releasing all the pent up anger originating from losing control of my life.

Frost is obviously taken aback by the sudden outburst. She sits down next to the bed and hesitantly raises her right foreleg before saying “But at least I keep you sleeping most of the time…”

“You know, I don’t think the “they will behead me, but they could have chosen incineration instead, so I shouldn’t complain” kind of arguments hold any water.” She dejectedly rests her chin on her chest, and I catch few sparks of light reflecting from the quickly moistening fur right under her eyes..

If I could move, I would slap myself. Of course, my situation is entirely Frost’s fault, but she means well, and I agreed to go through with this. She is the last pony I would want to make cry. What in Tartarus got into me!? She tries hard, and all I do is yell at her. Fix it, quick! I order myself.

I sigh and muster my best apologetic face. “I’m sorry, Frost. I.. I didn’t mean to shout at you, I just snapped. I’m constantly on the edge. It’s just so much for me to take…” She lifts her head. I chuckle at my self-pity but it is a hollow sound, so I choose to continue speaking to drown it: “You have it just as bad with all the preparations you have to do, and I’m such a nuisance that I think only about myself.”

She smiles at me kindly and strokes my cheek. Now that I think about it, she has been doing that more often during last few sessions.

“It’s alright. I am rather snappy lately myself, so I understand where that came from. Others try to avoid me whenever possible. Good thing that Fire can’t be deterred by something so petty like a harsh word. He’s sending his regards by the way. He asked me to tell you that everything is going well, he makes sure everypony does their job, and you are to enjoy your beauty sleep.” Now she is giggling like a schoolfilly. I swear she is bipolar.

I smirk “Next time you see him, tell him that in his case the beauty sleep wouldn’t be enough. Not even black magic can make his face look pretty.”

“Don’t be mean. I had to silence all of my compassion before I made myself to force your looks on our artificial pony,” she says, tilting her head to the right, and with few more giggles she gets up. She walks around the bed to the medical intravenous stand and unplugs me from it.

“Anyway,” she continues, “today we are going to withdraw your presence from your neck. Do you want me to give you the medication, or are you confident enough to pass into meditation on your own?”

“I’ll do it without the potion this time. To my eternal grief I still have taste buds…” She glares at me, but I can tell she is feigning it this time.

“Very well then, let me know when you finish separating,” she says with mock disdain and trots to the cushion next to the medical table.

Entering the state of separation doesn’t pose challenge for me anymore. If I couldn’t do it on my own, we wouldn’t enter this phase of mind transfer preparation at all. It doesn’t take as much time as it used to either because now I have to withdraw from much smaller portion of my body. Frost offers me the medication smoothing the process and removing the disturbing feeling of vulnerability while separated every time we perform this, but knowing the side-effects from experience I always refuse. The medication would cloud my mind slightly, and therefore the return to my body could contain complications. I swear that the horrible taste is really only secondary reason for my decision.

I calm myself down completely and mimic the techniques used to self-induce sleep, but unlike with those I keep my mind fully focused. This would normally lead to lucid dreaming, but I refuse to enter the realm of dreams. I stay somehow on the half-way. My senses are gone, but the magic flows directly through me, allowing me to contact Frost with pulling on the leylines which I also promptly do.

Through them I can also view the world in its immaterial form. I sense magical traces and all things connected to the leylines and the bounds between them, gaining deeper understanding of the events for a short while. It used to fascinate me, but everything fades into mundanity when it repeats frequently.

I “see” Frost getting up from her cushion. She walks toward where my body should be. It is now devoid of life in the metaphysical sense, so it remains invisible for me. Frost draws magic in and releases it in small amounts, which means she started filling another part of my body with inert imitation of mind presence. It will keep my mind from reentering that part.

As the pulses of Frost’s magic vanish, she nudges me through the leylines signaling me to end the separation. Returning to the body really resembles waking up. Once I feel that substance surrounds my mind, I extend myself to regain control.

Something is wrong. I try to open my eyes, but I can’t. Muscles in my face don’t react either. What’s going on!? Did I mess up? I panic more and more. I feel like hyperventilating, but there is neither the air to draw in, nor any organ capable of doing so! I’m dying! To Tartarus with it, not like this, not now...!

“Calm down! You aren’t dying, you just need to calm down!” Frost’s voice comes from all sides at once. It resonates through me and breaks me out of my hysteric outburst.

Frost? So at least I can hear. If I could at least talk as well...

“You can’t hear. Only way to communicate is telepathy now. Just think, and I will respond directly in your mind.”

What went wrong? Why can’t I connect with my senses? The remnants of shock slowly drift away. If I’m not dying, the mess I am in can be undone.

“That’s simple. You don’t have any senses anymore. During your separation I removed your body and replaced it with a flawless diamond. It is shiny and about the size of your head.” The amusement drips from her words. I consider dropping myself on her head now.

But you said I would just withdraw from my neck today!

“I had to lie. If you knew what was coming, your mind would subconsciously lock up, and you would return to your body no matter where it would be. Sorry I tricked you, but it was the only way.” she explains, but she doesn’t sound the least bit apologetic.

That phrase fits on everything related to these preparations… I grumble. Or try to. Articulating all emotions without my voice will require lots of attempts.

“Look at the bright side of this. You can now telepathically contact anypony here. And I will take you up to the manson. How does it sound?”

Well at least some change. Let’s go then I give up with a sigh.

“That’s the good jewel. If you behave, I’ll get you a nice holder.” she chirps sweetly.

How do I block telepathy?! Frost obviously decided to provide me enough opportunities to train expressing despair and anger via thoughts.

I would never imagine that there could be a situation in which I would yearn the days of second phase of the preparation, but the life proved me wrong. Existing as a mind in a crystal is proving to be far worse. Only now I appreciate, how merciful it was from Frost to keep me asleep before. She can’t do that anymore - crystals can’t drink potions.

If the legend tells the truth and that statue in the Royal Palace garden is in fact the petrified Discord, the god of chaos gained the first pony to mourn him in me. Being stuck like this for longer than a few weeks would inevitably lead to complete madness for me. Being able to “talk” to others, the luxury he lacks, wouldn’t save me for long either. I started to doubt the value of this blessing very soon.

I sense Fire entering the room. It is probably time for my final relocation.

“So, your big day has finally come. It must have been really hard being a diamond for over a month,” he says instead of a greeting. Fire is actually the reason for my apprehension toward telepathy - this was one of his milder puns.

Nice to see you too. Is everything ready? I choose not to react to his joke. He would only come up with another one, even more mind-damaging than the first one was.

“Yes, they are waiting in the garden. It feels strange that we are going to do this right in the headquarters. It could give us away,” Fire complains, his voice betraying real worries.

Moving all those body parts and material into the forest and then bringing me back here would be much more dangerous. We could encounter any amount of ponies, and you can’t very well justify carrying chopped pony into the forest, you know that. Our hiding spells are powerful enough, and the town folk will be in the fields celebrating Solstice anyway. I reassure him, although the worries plague me as well.

The location isn’t that much of a problem, our garden is large and the wall around it provides enough privacy. Only pegasi can see past the six-foot-tall barrier. The chance somepony finds out about our activities here is actually smaller than in the forest clearings we normally use. It’s the Solstice that weights my mind; the shortest night of the year and we have no other option than to perform extremely time-consuming spell.

Lifting the crystal, Fire is walking out of the room and through the corridors. I refuse to accept the crystal as my physical manifestation - when filled with apple juice the barrel doesn’t become physical manifestation of apples either - so I never identify it with my being.

I watch the magical traces in the building until they pale in comparison to the streams emanating from the direction we are moving in. It seems that entire coven gathered in the garden to witness our greatest achievement. Or greatest failure, but I shouldn’t think like that. As we get closer, I realize that the magic comes from two different places. Soon the sources are clear.

All the members really are present but they keep a good distance from a circle drawn on the ground. From the pulsation of its lines I can tell that whoever created it made absolutely no mistake. The circle is so powerful that even without casters it could change ponies. And the pulses intensify the closer to the centre I focus my attention.

There are three ponies around the circle. Only three are needed because the spell requires precision instead of brutal force. By the magical signatures of these ponies I recognize them as Frost Blossom, Whisper Charm and Forest Twist. Whisper’s presence is no surprise, she is a lieutenant for a reason, and Frost’s might is indisputable, even though she never attends the rituals. But I can’t but wonder how Forest managed to impress Frost enough to gain the third spot. Not that I doubt him, the salamander spell showed me just how much potential that pony has.

I perceive more than see the ring of shielding crystals. We seldom use ones that hide themselves so well, but the circumstances force us to seek the best protection there is.

As Fire deposits me in the centre of the circle, the daytime leyline configuration shifts into the night one. Frost has everything planned to the last second, it seems. As Fire leaves the circle and the space protected by the crystals, the casters are taking their positions and start the ritual without delay.

No action is expected from me, I am only another component in the puzzle of our artificial pony, so I occupy my mind with watching the leylines and deciphering the time flow from them.

It is around midnight. Everything has gone smoothly up to this point. It doesn’t anymore - the leylines are getting crazy now. They are writhing and constantly changing their intensity. What’s even more alarming, there seems to be some foreign magical nexus dragging the energy toward it. Casters are struggling to maintain the ritual, but the fight is slowing down the progress and the ritual is trying to tear out of control!

I can sense the pain this fight is causing to the three casters. Instead of constant peaceful flow of magic powered by moonlight, they experience slams and shocks of enraged magical surges. The smallest lapse in concentration could kill them with ease. And if something doesn’t happen soon, that development is inevitable.

Nopony can face this onslaught alone. They need help from outside, but nopony seems to consider providing it. The confusion and horror of the casters’ unit pulses in the leylines like a malicious fog. Certainly they won’t act on their own. I try to contact them telepathically, but they are too frightened to notice. Only one way remains, the way I hoped I would never use. I brace my soul, kill my morals and dominate the minds of my friends. For the greater good! And for my own survival...

I reach into the chaos that has become of the leylines and draw as much magical energy as I can. Then I send it crashing against the confused minds. The results are ranging from immediate, complete submission to fierce subconscious defense. But being withdrawn from my body and imbuing myself with raw magic I quickly erase any defense. The reality of what I am currently doing to them sickens me. The pain I cause by entering their minds and the despair of helplessness are something I would never wish upon them. Once this is over, I will apologize to them all profusely, but I’m afraid they won’t forgive me. I can live with that as long as I survive this moment!

Thirty-one unicorns march as one pony toward the ring of crystals and spread around it. Magical leashes leading from their heads meet in the crystal housing my mind. On my command they all start casting and create forcefield dome above the circle. Leylines entering the dome are immediately straightening and the rage inside of the circle subsides.

It probably won’t matter anyway, the damage is done. The three main casters spent too much power just to stay conscious, and the ritual lapsed far behind the schedule. But at least they are alive and can try to salvage our efforts. It is up to me to ensure them this chance. My hold of the unicorns’ minds mustn’t drop.

The hour of dawn is approaching, but we aren’t done yet. We are all weary, our progress is slowing with every passing minute. Frost and the others are still trying with all their might, but I think they know it is in vain. Since the beginning of the ritual my mind is connected with the spell. Once the sun rises, the circle will be destroyed and my mind with it. At least I’m dying with style - who else can say that they controlled thirty-one unicorns and forced them to cast for several hours?

The tremor of the leylines readying to shift becomes a prominent feeling of the moment. Well, goodbye everypony, I really enjoyed working with you. And Frost, please plan your experiments for winter next time, thank you. I send my final thought to the three casters as the tremor turns into buzzing. It is coming. I prepare for pain of burning in the sunlight…

But it never comes. The sun doesn’t rise! I feel the confusion of the casters. They even stop the ritual from the shock!

Cast now, ask later! I yell in their heads. I don’t care what happened with the sun. If some beast from Tartarus ate it, I will personally go and thank it as long as I survive this ritual!

Frost and the others snap back to attention quickly enough and resume their work at heightened tempo. The pulsing of the circle quickens its pace, and soon I feel myself being hauled down by magical tentacles wrapped around my mind.

The familiar sensation of waking up from separation is soothing me into sense of safety for a short while. But as the moment when I would open my eyes strikes, millions of nerve cells come to life. The agony! The first act of my throat is to scream itself into oblivion. The vision of ardent blades ripping me apart is all that fills my tortured thoughts. Then out of nowhere a black cloud of strong magic encases my horn and muffles everything.

“Go get some rest. You have been sitting here since we brought him in!”

“No! I want to be here when he wakes up! If something went wrong, the sooner I find out about it, the better.”

I groan weakly. The hushed voices pierce my eardrums like a roar of a manticore. I think that even the sound of a pin dropped on the ground would torture me now.

“You won’t fix anything, if you collapse on him. Besides, with that ritual behind you, you don’t have much power left.”

“You have no idea how much power I have left!”

It doesn’t seem they are going to stop their bickering anytime soon, so I have to act to preserve whatever part of my mind doesn’t hurt. “Whoever you are, just shut up!” I grumble as loudly as I dare, so i don’t make things worse for myself. Which isn’t too loud.

“He is awake!” both voices simultaneously cry out, and the throbbing in my head intensifies tenfold. I obviously decided for a wrong course of action. But my next one is well chosen. I contort my face and howl like a wolf. This gets the message through. I feel a spell enter my body and the pain subsides rapidly.

“Thank you. You have my eternal gratitude for that spell,” I say slightly louder than before, sighing in relief.

“I told you I am still strong enough to help!” one of the voices proclaims with pride and satisfaction imminent in the tone. Now that I can actually concentrate on something else than staying conscious through the pain, I recognise it immediately. I open my eyes and see Frost standing next to the left side of my bed, smiling smugly at Fire standing on the opposite side, facehoofing and sighing. They both look like they could use a good-night sleep, but Frost is definitely worse to wear. The bags under her eyes and disheveled mane are rare occurrences for this perfectionist mare.

“If you have so much energy felt, would you levitate that glass of water to me?” Fire asks mischievously.

“No. Fetch it yourself,” she retorts and points her muzzle up.

“You can’t, admit it!” he demands, his irritation clear..

I cough to get their attention.

“Sorry to interrupt, but I feel rather neglected…” Good, they finally remember that I’m actually here.

“I’m so sorry, Chant, I got carried away. Fire just won’t stop putting his nose into things that aren’t his business, and I grow tired of that,” Frost smiles sheepishly.

“He is right, you know. You should have rested instead of fretting over me,” I answer with concern. “It was one difficult ritual, and that mess around midnight must have taken its toll on you as well.”

“Don’t worry about me, I have been through worse. Besides, that spell you conducted helped immensely,” Frost says and waves her hoof dismissively.

I shudder at being reminded of my actions from last night. “I hope they don’t hate me too fiercely…”

“No,” Fire butts in, “when they learned what actually happened, they were quite shocked but more by the fact you managed to pull this off. Few are a bit angry, but they understand. And then there is a small group currently plotting how to perform such synchronized casting again. They say it was a great experience.

“I need to apologize anyway., I react dejectedly. “By the way, do we know what actually happened? I mean, what threw the leylines off balance like this and why didn’t the sun rise?”

“From the ponies who arrived today by train we know that it happened all over Equestria. But that’s all.” answers Frost worriedly. “The sun rose about two hours after we finished, but the strange nexus is still there. It feels similar to Celestia, but the energy differs. We will know soon enough, something like this can’t go unnoticed. The news just travel slowly.”

She rests her face in hooves tiredly. She is probably fighting a headache of her own. After a moment she continues.

“But let’s concentrate on more pressing matter. How do you feel?”

“The pain went away after your spell. I think I can use my magic and I have rule over my head and neck, but the rest of the body doesn’t respond.”

She opens her mouth, but I glare at her before she gets a single word out.

“And I refuse any rehabilitation until you get at least ten hours of sleep.” She wants to protest but I continue, “Fire, assign two of the guards to Frost’s room. She is forbidden to leave it until tomorrow morning.”

“Yessir!” Fire salutes with a grin, walks over to Frost, drops one wing over her back and leads her out. She is so sleepy at the moment that she doesn’t even protest.