Twilight Souls

You died.

Again.

Really, Hunter? How could you be so careless?

The trap had sprung, and the Dragon Hunter had been too exausted to notice it until the bridge was already beyond collapsing. The wickedly grinning pegasus who had kicked out the last brick holding the treacherous architecture to the side of the mountain laughed, knowing that he would be growing that much stronger, that his memory would be safe that much longer.

The Hunter cried dry tears as he fell. He desperately tried to sort through his memories, seeking the ones that were most important. He was searching for someone... what was her name? Not, not searching for... trying to save. He needed to get something... who was she?

What do I do?

The Hunter's body broke as he crashed into the ramparts of a stone wall, his Hollowed bones exploding into ash. He clung futilely to life has his flame flickered and eyes grew dim.

Why!?

***

The Dragon Hunter woke slowly, taking stock of his surroundings. A ring of pillars, the courtyard of a hilltop watchtower, surrounded him. As usual, the gently-smoldering pile of bones next to him had caught his souls and put them back into his fragile, transient form. And as usual, it had come at a cost.

Ok... take stock. Limbs... He looked at himself. Literal hide and bone, barely able to stand, withered and ashy. Getting worse... Any stockpiles here... no. His ears drooped as he realized this Bonfire was nowhere he recognized, built in the courtyard of some village watchtower. Which leads us to... memory.

The Dragon Hunter stood still for a full minute, trying to rack his brain for anything important, then, failing that, anything useful at all.

Ponyfeathers. I'm pretty sure I forgot my name a few deaths ago, my title is Dragon Hunter. That inspires some confidence. I can use a forge... Something about alchemy? I was doing something important? He raised a hoof and scratched his head, brushing loose a clump of mane that withered as it fell to the ground. Well, let's do the usual. Weapon, Estus, souls... a Spark if I can find it... and then figure out what the flying feathers I was doing up the side of a mountain.

"H-hello?"

Smithy turned tiredly at the sound of the timid voice. He wasn't worried about dying again, this close to a Bonfire he would lose very little. So instead, he was heartened to see another pony peek her head around a pillar.

It was a unicorn filly, not quite large enough to be a mare, but not a foal either. She was badly hollowed, worse than he was, but her eyes burned brightly. She stepped fully around the corner, dragging the haft of a spear behind her. The Hunter slowly bowed so as not to be intimidating.

"Hello, little one. Is this your Bonfire?"

"Yes. Feel free to share It's warmth, the fog is coming." She curtsied politely. "I have nothing else, m'lord."

"It is plenty." The Hunter settled in beside the Bonfire. "Do you know your name, little one?"

"I remember being called Catarena. And you, yours, if I may pry?" Catarena lay down opposite him, shyly looking away.

"Only of title. I was known as the Dragon Hunter. I cannot say I still deserve it."

"But it is a strong name to be known as, Hunter." Catarena's face twitched in what might have been a wry smile. "With the curse, you always have a chance to earn it again."

"Perhaps."

The conversation died as the white fog thickened around them. The Bonfire's flame was feeble, but it held the cold at bay, just enough to keep the things that dwelt within at a distance. And so the Dragon Hunter and Catarena the Little One survived another dimming with their souls intact.

***

The fog retreated, as it always did, some hours later. Catarena had buried her head in her hooves to block out the screams - it seemed some creatures had not benefited from the protection of a bonfire - but the Hunter had kept alert, as he knew he always had. The curse denied them both sleep for many years, so it was a simple matter of honed patience until the ruddy light on the horizon was strong enough to see by again.

"I would go out to seek kindling for the flames, would I have a weapon." Hunter observed. Catarena raised her head.

"Would you? I-I can offer my spear, humble as it is."

Hunter considered the broken weapon. It had been snapped in two, and the filly had kept the upper part. The spearhead was the heavy iron diamond-shape of a issued Royal Canterlot Guardspony's pike, and looked none the worse for wear.

Bowing his thanks, Hunter accepted the weapon. Catarena gestured to the southernmost edge of the watchtower, where a narrow set of stairs wound their way down the slick hill, and Hunter went on his way.

The little unicorn had shown a foolhardy amount of trust in him, giving him her only meager means of defense. Unless she was a potent spellcaster, which he doubted judging from her condition, she was now well and truly helpless. Hunter reached the base of the stairs, eyeing the buildings of the small but close-packed village that surrounded the hill. He would have to repay her somehow.

Silly as that was. All undead would be enemies at some point. Hunter walked slowly down a street, scanning for anything useful, and meticulously searching through every house. A smooth, even layer of ash covered every unprotected, and Hunter made the effort to avoid leaving tracks as he stepped carefully across the exposed parts of the cobbles.

Lady Luck, it seemed, was on his side. The final house on the street he was on had a door, and it looked to have recently been kicked in. Shifting his grip on the broken spear to make it easer on his jaw, he stepped inside.

The still-fading corpse of an undead pony was slumped against the far wall, a large hole torn in its side. Hunter crept closer, noting that the victim's bags had been torn loose and lay open on the ground. He left it untouched and stepped around the body, searching the rest of the house until he was certain it was abandoned before returning the corpse.

Whatever had killed the pony had gone entirely through it's side, and left a deep mark in the wall. The corpse finally crumbled to ash save the bones as Hunter undid the knot on it's ragged cloak and threw it around himself, picking up the looted saddlebags as well. He slotted the spear through the straps, holding it to his side, and took a moment to regard the remains. With a kick, he scattered the last of the black bones to dust as a courtesy, free to fade away and re-form elsewhere. In doing so, he revealed something glittering under the dead pony's leg.

Hunter carefully picked up the small hoof-blade, sliding it over his right foreleg. The short blade looked used, but sharp, and the hinge moved between it's extended and folded state freely. He stomped at the air in front of himself experimentally. Useful. Perhaps I shall return the Little One's weapon tonight.

Feeling slightly cheered to have found clothing and a decent tool, Hunter made to trot outside. A single tap of a hoof on cobblestone street stopped him.

Dropping to his belly, he pulled himself closer to the splintered door and peered outside. An Earth Pony, bright and unHollowed, made her way past, a broadsword in her jaws, clearly what had run through the undead Hunter had just looted behind him. An ethereal reddish glow hung around her as she scanned the street.

A Nightmare. Worse, a strong, greedy Nightmare. Hunter slid himself backwards, out of sight. With the power of a Red Moon Tear surrounding her, not only would she absorb the souls of those who died by her hoof, but their Spark would be stripped away as well: brutally, efficiently, and all granted to the killer. The pony he had just looted and scattered to the wind would re-form, utterly mindless and likely too feeble to stand, trapped in place as an empty husk.

Worse, the aura was attracted to the presence of what little Spark the Dragon Hunter had left in him. As weak as he was, the Nightmare would have little to go on... but she knew he was there, and he would not be able to escape without her following.

So it was time to turn the tables. Hunter wanted that sword.

And he knew how to deal with Nightmares.

***