Arcane Shadow (Re-Written)

While the weather training was going on, Rainbow Dash and Matt took themselves on a little trip to the hallway with the prison cells. Dash frowned as she and her Fantasian escort reached the one holding the newest inmate. "I mean… I can get holding him here in the Iron Hold because his despair would kill changelings, but could we at least give him something to do other than ramble his plot off?" she asked.

Matt shook his head. "He'd probably find some way to off himself with a teddy bear, if push came to shove," he said gravely. "The gryphons watching him said that he wouldn't respond to them, other than begging for death… so that's why we're here—to see if we can get anything else from him before we have to put him on the chopping block…" He closed his eyes and sighed sadly. "Suicidal ponies like him, with that level of despair, we try to rehabilitate… but his signs aren't promising." He opened his eyes and turned to the door of the cell, and trotted over to insert his horn into the keyhole to unlock it.

Once the cell door swung open, the pair trotted inside to find the bound survivor of Redpine's ill-fated attack, huddled up in the corner. A faint stench of feces and urine hung in the air, but no trace of it was to be seen—perhaps it had been cleaned up recently. The poor bastard's ears were pinned back, and his head hung low as he sobbed in his corner. Matt trotted over slowly, and put his hoof on the alicorn's shoulder, and he looked up hesitantly, eyes wide and pupils shrunken in fear and despair. Gingerly, Matt removed his muzzling contraption, and once that clattered to the floor, he gave the sorry alicorn a hug that he could not reciprocate due to being bound.

"Hey… I know you're extremely sorry for everything," Matt said gently, willing forth a single, clawed shadow to softly put a finger on the alicorn's lips to silence his protestations. "And if you're willing to be forgiven, then Godcat will forgive you…"

The alicorn's eyes shone with a frail, dangerously fragile hope. A tear fell from one of his eyes as he sat there in the embrace, fully quiet in its descent. And yet, a part of him struggled to comprehend the notion, and forced the rest of him to speak. "Even if…"

"Yes, even if you were controlled by someone else," Matt answered gently, keeping his expression neutral. "Your half-brother felt the same way when we freed him from the geas, too."

"But… what if death is the only…" Again, Matt shushed the alicorn with a shadowy claw to his lips.

"Death isn't a way out—it only prolongs suffering in the end," Matt answered. "If you had died now… you'd have become a wraith, unable to move on until your despair and hatred was sorted out. We had to tell this to your half-brother, and to another pony when we found her in Lankyroot." He shook his head, and tightened his embrace slightly. "It won't solve anything, and… and it saddens Godcat when we take the easy way out."

Matt looked the alicorn in the eyes, sorrow shining within his blue pools as his head softly shook. "I know… you've been left a bad legacy—a legacy no sane pony wants anything to do with. But you don't have to be part of it anymore—you're free to be your own pony now. And we'll help you become your own pony by giving you a name." He noted the confusion shining in the alicorn's eyes, equally as frail as the hope he dared allow into his despairing heart. He looked at the alicorn's features; his coat was a murky brown, with a streaked mane of scarlet and orange, and eyes similar to Lance's in color.

"How about… Scorch?" Matt proposed. The alicorn mulled it over, looking away briefly, before turning back to him and shakily nodding. "Scorch it is. Now then… are you good at casting spells?" When Scorch shook his head, Matt nodded. "It's okay, not everypony's cut out for it. I assume you don't know any spells, either?" Another headshake answered him. "Trust me, I used to not know any spells myself. I can teach you, if you want."

Scorch's eyes began to shine, for perhaps the first time in his life. "I… I can become my own pony that way?" he asked, his voice fraught with hope. Matt nodded.

"Yeah, you can. But if you want to be a stunt flier, then nobody's stopping you." Matt lifted one hoof out and swept it towards the closest wall, and his horn lit up to cast a spell that turned that wall into an open horizon, the sun setting down on the mountain ranges the Aerie called home. "As far as you're concerned… you've got the whole of Fantasia in your hooves. The sister worlds… they're your oyster now."

"But, you will have to train, regardless of what path you take," Matt added. "And we will need to teach you how to read, write, and all that—you've got a long road ahead of you, but once you get off the ground, you're free as a bird."

Scorch's eyes widened further, taking in the full scope of the possibilities that now lay at his hooves. A sea of infinite worth, infinite paths, infinite skies was before him—begging him to take the first initiative that would see him grow as he should have done during his foalhood years. A gentle, feminine, and unfamiliar voice echoed in his head, purring as he felt an invisible paw rest itself on his heart. "You can forge your own legacy, free from the constraints that those of Redpine have placed on your withers. You… are now your own stallion," the voice said in a soothing tone. "Though your road to recovery is long, and fraught with danger… you have my Chosen by your side, to help see you through adversity."

Matt lit his horn, and gently undid the bindings holding Scorch's wings and front legs closed. "We have to make sure you don't have any magic surges that could cause damage," he said, using his clawed shadows to indicate Scorch's horn. "Truthfully, I'm not sure if you had them while under the geas, and I'd rather you not explode your own horn from the strain."

"... I've never heard of ponies exploding their own horns before," Rainbow said, a mite tartly. "Have… you seen that happen?"

Matt nodded. "Undead alicorn with long golden mane," he replied. "His horn went first, before the rest of him, and his horn was… already damaged enough to cause it." He returned his attention to Scorch. "That being said, once we have ruled out the magic surge possibility, we'll start training you properly. Is that fair?" When Scorch nodded, he stood up, indicating the alicorn to follow him up. He turned to Rainbow. "Think you can help keep him steady, in case his wings decide to have themselves a magic surge?"

Rainbow nodded. "I can do that," she affirmed. Her stomach rumbled a bit. "Oh yeah, that reminds me… we almost skimped out on dinner."

Matt nodded. "The mess hall might be a bit much for him, though…" Still, he was smiling, even as his horn dimmed. "That being said, we could have a few soldiers deliver food to his new room."

"A new room?" Scorch asked, frowning slightly. "Like… with a bed and everything?"

"More than a bed and everything," Matt answered cheerfully. "If you want, we can show it to you now." Scorch's eyes beamed, and his face lit up as he eagerly nodded. "Then let's leave this dingy cell." With that, the three trotted out, making sure to close the door behind them as they went. Trotting out of the Iron Hold afterwards was a bit of a tedious affair, more due to its length than anything, and during the sojourn the three were talking their heads off to dispel the silence.

"So… are you able to eat greens?" Rainbow asked.

Scorch shook his head. "I… never could keep them down," he muttered apologetically. "They always tasted like… eugh…"

Matt didn't want to envision what comparison sulfur-infused plant life would inevitably dredge up. "Well, we have substitutes for greens, but they're a bit chewier than what you're probably used to," he said. "You might have an easier time keeping that down, and if you don't, we have medicines that can help with that."

"You guys have medicines for that?" Rainbow asked, frowning. "Did Lance have to take them after he got his flank kicked?"

"On the daily, when we discovered his little issue," Matt answered with a nod. "He stopped taking them, when we introduced him to tortoise soup. Though every now and again, he eats more greens than he can handle, so he has to pop the lid, down some stomach-easing drugs, and sleep with a fair amount of gurgling."

"And what's the medicine made from?" Rainbow asked, ruffling her wings as she envisioned a pony popping pills to help with the tummy aches.

"We have a plant called the star-shaped salvation," Matt answered, lighting his horn to conjure up a green plant that had a collection of five-point leaves, adorned with a golden fruit and star-shaped flowers dangling at the end. "We use it for all sorts of things, mostly healing and recreation. We mix one part leaves, two parts flower, one fifth fruit, and a sprinkle of sea salt to trigger the healing effects. Dead useful; it can heal poisons, stomach problems, aches and pains. We cultivate a lot of this in our slime ranch."

Rainbow whistled. "And how is it used recreationally?" she asked.

"Well, if we want a buzz… we mix one part flower, two parts leaves, the seeds of the fruit that we know can't be grown into new plants, and some rainbow-colored mushrooms together into a paste, then we dry that paste until we can light it on fire. Once it hits that extra-dry sweet spot, we roll it up in more leaves and smoke it," Matt answered with a shrug. "On days where the paperwork becomes too much, or if we become too stressed, we make a few, pass it around, and hallucinate vividly for a few hours." He conjured a mushroom from the ether, about hoof-height with a rainbow-colored cap that shimmered iridescently in the scant light he produced.

"That sounds a lot like a recreational herb back in Equestria… too bad it's stupidly expensive," Rainbow muttered, frowning. "You think you could let me have one, once Redpine's sorted out?"

Matt mulled it over, then nodded. "Though, if the hallucinations are too much, we do have a quick fix for that," he said, sending the plants back to the ether for now. He turned to Scorch and added, "Also, you might cough your lungs out on the first hit, so we'll have to be sure you're fully ready for the blunt when you put a little more meat on those bones. Until then, you're staying sober."

Scorch nodded. His stomach rumbled. "Do you have… any snacks on standby?" he asked, blushing meekly.

Matt grinned. "I always have snacks on standby," he chirped, and halted to summon a skewer of cooked bird legs that he gave to the famished alicorn. He plucked them off of the skewer, and held one with his hoof. "You bite it until you reach bone, but do not eat the bone," he advised, watching as Scorch moved to hold one in his hoof.

Scorch bit into it, and his eyes widened at the explosion of seared, lightly seasoned flavor in his mouth. He chewed, finding the texture was not one he was familiar with, with a crispy cooked skin and tender, juicy flesh beneath it, cooked to perfection. After a few moments, he swallowed, and made to polish the meat from the drumstick with a bit of haste. In moments, he polished it off down to the bone, and was given another drumstick to munch on. As with its fellow, in moments he cleaned that down to pearly white bone too, followed in short order by the third and last drumstick of the skewer.

Once cleaned, the bones and skewer were sent back to the ether, and Matt watched his charge carefully. "Any tummy aches?" he asked.

Scorch shook his head. "I feel a bit more full now," he said, grinning for the first time in his life. "And no tummy pains."

Matt grinned. "Alright; just lemme know if you need to use the toilet," he said, and with that, the trek throughout the Iron Hold resumed. There was a noticeable spring in Matt's step, Dash noticed, but she chose to not comment about it.

Scorch turned to her and spread one of his wings to nudge her own. "You… you still have your wings?" he asked, as though he were genuinely disbelieving of the concept. His feathers touching hers, however, confirmed to him that they were the real deal. "Where are you from?"

"I'm from Mythos," Rainbow answered with a shrug. "Not everypony's as nutty as the great big palookas of Redpine."

Scorch nodded. "I'd like to visit Mythos someday…" he muttered, thoughts briefly drifting as he considered what the sister world was like.

"I… wouldn't do that right yet; all the nations are still scrambling to figure out what to do about the broken barrier, and… not many would take a Fantasian walking about their nations very well at the moment," Rainbow replied, shuddering as a dismal newspaper entered her thoughts for the briefest of moments.

"Some nations are run by racists…" Matt muttered, shaking his head.

"How bad is it?" Scorch asked.

"Well, ponies throw things at you, send you to bad places to try and start wars, and their actually decent leaders are forced to pull additional public relations stunts and bend over backwards just to keep war from happening," Matt said drolly. "Plus, if you went with the 'show yourself as you are' approach, wings and horn on display? You'll probably get lobbed with all sorts of questions, regarding where you came from, if you were born an alicorn, and so forth. It's just not worth the hassle right now. But once things calm down over there, me and the others will take you there—and we'll protect you from the asshats." His smile widened. "Good food, though—and good leaders who are actually sane."

Rainbow's ears perked up. "Speaking of food… you think we should have Pinkie make a few cupcakes for Scorch?" she asked.

Matt nodded. "Oh, yeah, buddy—you're missing out until you try those cupcakes." He turned to Scorch and flashed him a smile. He lit his horn and conjured a vanilla cupcake with chocolate frosting, adorned with sprinkles and a smattering of miniature marshmallows, still in its wrapper, seamlessly from the ether. He halted before undoing the wrapping, indicating his charge to sit down and hold his front hooves up, and plopping the treat in his hooves. "Try it; it's delicious."

Scorch nodded, bit into the cupcake, and his eyes almost bugged out at the explosion of sweetness and condensed diabetes in his mouth. It took him mere seconds to shove the rest of the cupcake in, downing it with just enough chewing to make it go down the hatch. As a result, he ended up with a frosting mustache for the trouble, and Matt indicated to his upper lip with a hoof. "You should probably lick off the frosting, or wipe it with a hoof," he said. "If you don't, it might crust over and stick, and we'll have to wash it off your face."

Scorch wiped the frosting off with a pastern, and then licked it off his leg like a cat afterwards. He grinned, eyes beaming. "Where can I get some more?" he asked, a small smattering of childlike wonder returning to his eyes with the question.

Matt beamed. "Well, there's lots of places where you can get more cupcakes. In fact, the medical wing gives out sweets to those who are super-duper good during their checkups," he said. "Of course, I will need to explain the situation when we get there, but trust me, it'll be worth it."

Rainbow looked at Matt, tilting her head. "Do they do that for adults…?" she asked.

Matt nodded. "Did it for Katie, when we got her autopsy report done," he confirmed. "Hell, that's how we got her out of bed that morning—we enticed her with wasps, and candy. She did not want to get up otherwise."

Rainbow rolled her eyes. At least that enticing with candy had a good reasoning behind it. "Lemme guess: heavy sleeper."

Matt nodded. "Though, sound-sensitive, in that any loud noise will generally knock some dust from those sockets," he affirmed.

Rainbow sighed. If anyone would be a heavy sleeper, logic would tell her, it would be the undead, and only then for a whole host of reasons. She was surprised they could still dream, all things considered, but then again, that was probably not counting the geased horde that made up Redpine's air force now. "And how much did you give her before breakfast that day?"

"Just two items: a cupcake, and half of a wasp sandwich, and that was after we stitched her back shut," Matt answered. "We found out, no thanks to Natalie cramming biscuits into her gob, that her stomach… well, it only gets going once food is in it. And yes, we have confirmed… she does need a few breaks on the clock, as it were. So we're gonna have to set up a bathroom schedule on top of food portioning."

Rainbow turned a bit green at the mention. Only Godcat and Faust knew what horrid smells a wraith could produce during those appointed times. It was fortunate that the Aerie was taking steps to mitigate the collateral that would have probably resulted otherwise. A part of her imagined that the older the wraith was, the more horrible the stench—she was silently glad she could not smell such at the moment.

"But… I was taught that wraiths don't need to use the bathroom…" Scorch muttered, crossing his hooves over his chest and tilting his head. "And that they were basically flesh-eaters who were only good for target practice…"

"Most don't, because most don't eat," Matt affirmed with a nod. "However, the one we have here does, and only because she has a favorite food from her childhood. Also, the leaders of Redpine are full of horseshit, and whatever excuses they pull out of their asses will probably go down in history as a warning to future wannabe tin-pot tyrants on how not to bullshit their way out of trouble." He turned around again, and began trotting, with Scorch and Rainbow falling into step behind him after a moment. "Besides, we gotta find a soldier that can teleport, once we get out of the Iron Hold; it'll be quicker than marching on hoof."

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Alexander was bemused as he gave Scorch a few check-ups, scanning his horn, his wings, his ribs, and everything else. Scorch shrank a little, feeling vulnerable and naked as every aspect of him was placed under more scrutiny than he had ever received during his tenure as one of Redpine's unwilling soldiers. Matt had to explain the downsides of the checkup to him before he waltzed into the examination room, but… truth be told, the scrawny alicorn didn't know half a clue of what he was warned about until halfway through the examination.

As he was scrutinized, Alexander paused every now and again to consult a clipboard and write onto the paper attached to it. Various medical terminology that Scorch couldn't hope to translate left the doctor's beak in soft mutters as he jotted them down. Terms like 'rickets,' 'preenus oblivio,' and confusingly, 'latent syphilis' were only three such items of Scorch's apparently many woes, which were dutifully documented and noted with extreme care. Quicksilver hovered nearby, operating a medicine cabinet as he extracted the things that would be needed to treat their newest, and unusual patient.

"What's… what's latent syphilis?" Scorch asked.

Alexander sighed. That one, he had been dreading the moment he documented the condition. "Sexually transmitted disease—you get it from a pony, who in turn got it from another," he explained. "And you get it through…" He gestured at Scorch's loins for emphasis. "As for the latent part, you've had it for years, untreated… and if we don't treat it now, it'll progress to the tertiary stage—which brings insanity, organ failure, and other symptoms of other diseases, because syphilis likes to assume a masquerade and pretend it's something else, especially in the latent stage."

Quicksilver winced. He hissed between teeth that Scorch didn't know gryphons could possess. "Yeah… Lance had that, too… and he did not like taking his medicine for it," he muttered, shaking his head. "Honestly, as close to tertiary syphilis as you are, I'm glad we still caught it while it's in the latent stage. That means we can still treat it."

"Very good thing is that we found that changelings can grow the needed microbes to treat it…" Alexander muttered, consulting the clipboard once more. "But for you, you're gonna need a good three doses to fully cure the latent syphilis. One dose per week should do the trick." He turned to Quicksilver. "Do we have to make more?"

Quicksilver turned back with a grin. "We still have plenty to go around," he reported, scooping up three vials in his claw and a needle that would penetrate the chilled lids. "And it's the long-acting stuff, too."

"It's not gonna hurt, is it?" Scorch asked, as Alexander put the clipboard down to feel along his forearm for the prime spot for the first dose. When he tried bunching up a bit of muscle, he had some difficulty, but managed it in the end.

"Only a little. Frankly, after everything you've been through, I'm surprised you still have meat on your bones," Alexander replied, nodding to Quicksilver. Quicksilver put two of the vials back where he found them, in a little chilled magitek box that sported a sheen of ice on its surface. He came back with the last vial and the needle, and filled up the shot with every single drop of fluid he could get away with. "Any less meat, and we'd have struck bone—which is not ideal at all."

Quicksilver nodded. "Yeah, we had to vaccinate our wraith—not because she could get sick through any changeling diseases, but because she could spread them to others somehow. I'm surprised her body took the shots so easily, even if we had to go at a parallel angle to administer them for her."

"Even more surprising, was the fact she showed no symptoms of the illnesses we vaccinated her for—despite the fact that we found she was carrying the microbes needed to do any accidental transfers. She had really old, unevolved strains too—the vaccines made quick work of them, by turning her weak immune system on them," Alexander added, watching as the needle was lined up with the bunched muscle at something of a perpendicular angle. Then the angle was turned, just slightly to the bottom, and the muscle was wiggled by the claw holding it as the needle went in. "It was a miracle she didn't infect anyling with those old strains at all."

Scorch winced, feeling a tiny prick, and then a flare of pain from the procedure. But the shot was administered without fuss, and the needle withdrew once it was spent. Alexander released the muscle and patted it gently a few times, to both distribute the shot better through Scorch's bloodstream, and to dissolve the pain a little. "Welp, that's your first shot. You certainly took that far better than your half-brother did," he chirped, grinning.

"And once the syphilis is sorted out, you'll start feeling better in more ways than one," Quicksilver piped up, even as he moved to discard the used needle. "But you still gotta put on some weight in the meantime, for the shots to really be effective. Otherwise, you could be having some problems in the future."

"Like what?" Scorch asked.

"Rickets—calcium deficiency in your bones, making your bones weak," Alexander replied. "And truth be told… you were never going to get any vitamins from the plants of Redpine, because the sulfur would have killed off any nutrients you could have gotten otherwise." He shook his head sadly, a look of pity in his eyes. "Basically, you have a severe vitamin deficiency… pretty much everywhere. You're probably going to be stunted in physical growth for the rest of your life, unless you can catch up to where you should be in one year, and make up for the early years of your childhood in the meantime."

"But, we can start on that, here and now—we're gonna put you on a bit of a diet, to make sure your needs are met," Quicksilver added with a grin. "We can sort out the preenus oblivio too, while we're at it."

"Ah yes, preenus oblivio…" Alexander looked at Scorch evenly. "It's when your feathers go a long time without preening, and loose, broken and dead feathers keep piling up and piling up, and before you know it, you're shedding the damn things everywhere with every flap. It can also happen when you spend an extended time staying in extremely hot or cold areas… like a volcano, for instance, but either way, you're not keeping good track of those wings." He sighed and shook his head. "That reminds me, I need to get on Lieutenant-General Starcovert's ass for that…"

"You and I both know we can't get her to preen her wings to save our hides," Quicksilver said, frowning. "Unless we somehow give her the ability to regenerate the lost portions of them, or get her to stop having adventures—which is never going to happen, let's face it—we're never going to get that sorted out regardless. We would need literal divine intervention from both Faust and Godcat, after they've regained Their full abilities."

"And speaking of that, the cure for that condition is simple: we teach you how to properly preen your wings, and in time… oh, about a few months, it should clear up with regular preening. I'd say start once a day, before bed—after we teach the obligatory basics." Alexander grasped a wing and gently spread it with his talons, being careful not to pierce the tender flesh of the limb. Scorch looked at it; it was a tangle of hopelessly broken, loose, dead feathers with roughly a third of the good ones, including the damaged primaries, in any position to function at all.

"Hrm… larger wings…" Alexander spread the wing fully, and Quicksilver brought out a measuring tape to see its length in full. He had Alexander hold one end, while he dragged a good portion of the tape to Scorch's shoulder to pull it taut. Fortunately, the outermost primary had escaped unscathed, allowing them to gauge the full length. "Twenty-nine inches, and a third of the way there to a full thirty. Not quite as big as Lance's, but more difficult to manage if you try flying. You're not going to have as much trouble as your half-brother by getting into the air and turning sharply, but you will still need training to fully compensate for that annoying shortcoming."

"So… how do I preen these things?" Scorch asked, frowning as Quicksilver retracted the measuring tape.

"Simple: you feel with your mouth, and pluck with your teeth," Alexander answered, before demonstrating that with his beak. Deftly, quickly, as painlessly as possible, he set to work carefully extracting Scorch's useless feathers from his wings, noting each wince the wing in his grasp sent through his claws and beak and shifting his approach accordingly. In no time, a collection of feathers that were worthless for flight were falling to the floor.

Quicksilver spread Scorch's other wing, and joined in, as careful as his compatriot. Scorch watched, utterly transfixed, despite the prickles of pain shooting through his wings every time a feather was plucked out. Five minutes in, and a good portion of the insides of his wings were looking more presentable than they had ever been before. And if this was all it took for them to be in good shape…

Then who was he to turn this down? He wanted to join in, but was hesitant to do so; as far as this went, he was nowhere near as experienced as the two gryphons handling him, so he figured he should just kick back and enjoy the view. It helped that the little needles of pain were brief, and passed quickly, even if they were still piling up throughout the coordinated cleaning.

It took an hour to fully preen his mess of a pair of wings, but eventually, the two gryphons pulled through and gently yanked the last few feathers out, front and back. They let go, and watched Scorch as he flapped his wings a few times. No loose feathers fell out, and each remaining one felt as ready as ever, despite the bald spots in his wings. "Anything odd?" Quicksilver asked.

Scorch shook his head. "I feel… ready to fly," he said after a moment.

Alexander grinned. "But not yet, you still have feathers to regrow. I also noticed, you only have a singular finger in your wings each, compared to the rare mutation your half-brother and Lieutenant-General Windwood's sister possess—compared to them, you have relatively less wing issues to worry about, besides the vitamin deficiency and the bald spots." He gestured to a wing. "So you will have an easier time turning on a dime, at the cost of flexibility. Which would make stunt flying a hare more difficult for you."

Quicksilver grinned and gestured for Scorch to hop off of the exam table. "I think that covers everything," he said. "Now we just have to put you into a room for the night, give you some dinner, and let you go to sleep. What would you like to eat?"

Scorch smiled. "Do you have any more meat on bones, rounded top?" Scorch asked.

Alexander's grin widened. "I see you've got a craving for drumsticks. Alright, I'll put in the order for that, and the nurses should give you a few drumsticks and a smattering of other meats for dinner." He patted Scorch's shoulder. "But, you're showing promising signs for your recovery, which is fortunate for your particular situation. In a few months, you'll be healthier than you've ever been!"

Quicksilver chuckled. "Not many ponies can say that once they get into the medical ward. You're one of the lucky ones," he chirped. "Now, let's take you to your room for the night. I think you'll like your temporary quarters better than that stuffy cell."

Scorch grinned, hope shining in his eyes. His stomach rumbled, not that he needed it to remind him of dinnertime. He let the gryphons lead him out of the examination room, eager to get something to take his mind off of his sins. Food and bed sounded as good an excuse as any to get the gears of his brain working on other matters.

Still, he had a niggling feeling… he had a niggling feeling that the rest of Redpine's forces wouldn't see the issue the same way. However, he realized that he had better leave that to ponies who knew what they were doing—he had his ass kicked after all, and he was in no condition to fight. Better let the experts handle that kerfuffle, he reasoned.