Chapters Worthless . . . worthless . . . worthless . . . worthless.
Like a skipping record, thoughts repeated in the young stallion’s head.
You’re no good. Your family hates you. You’re worthless . . . worthless . . . worthless . . . worthless.
He stumbled through the moonlit streets of Canterlot, not sure what he was doing or where he was going, just trying to get the thoughts out of his head. Curses erupted from well-dressed ponies as he crashed through a restaurant’s patio.
There’s nothing good about you. Your marefriend left you because you’re worthless . . . worthless . . . worthless . . . worthless.
“Shut up,” he said weakly. He tried to deny what he was hearing, but failed. Everything was true. Except . . .
Your life is a living nightmare.
It was if a switch in his head had been flipped, shutting down all thought. Staring blankly ahead, he trotted up to the edge of the bridge he’d found himself on. He watched helplessly as his body moved on its own and threw itself over the edge. Passersby screamed as his body fell, impacting the cobblestones with a sickening crunch.
Darkest Shadows
***
“This the one you’re looking for?” the morgue attendant asked as he slid the body out.
“That’s him all right,” Berry said as she compared the body to a picture of the stallion from when he had been living.
Gallant Fox: earth pony; male; age 21; employed as a maintenance worker for Hierophant Tower; the only pony who had been in said tower the night of the gargoyle attack – Deceased.
Beryl sighed as she closed the file and motioned for the body to be slid back into the cooler. Over a week had passed since she had met Shadowmere, and together they had stopped the gargoyle attacks on Canterlot. The Ministry had successfully restored the street to its previous condition and covered up what had happened, though they were certainly surprised to learn that gargoyles had returned. Beryl had kept Shadowmere’s identity a secret (he was the Black Briar—a wanted fugitive—after all) and had kept the case open, investigating into who had toppled that final gargoyle statue from the roof.
“Thanks for your help, Klaus,” Beryl said to the attendant as she left the mortuary.
Her investigation had eventually led her to Gallant Fox, who the building’s security spells had detected entering shortly before the gargoyle had fallen and leaving immediately after. There was no doubt that he had been the one responsible for releasing the gargoyle from its prison. Of course, there was no way to get any more information from him. You couldn’t interrogate a pony who’d jumped to his death the night before.
Berry emerged from the Canterlot Police Department Morgue into the bright midday light. Important ponies trotted up and down the sidewalks while carriages trundled down the streets. Once her eyes had adjusted, she took off in the opposite direction of the Ministry. She would return later to report the progress on the case, but first she wanted to speak to Shadowmere. With her last lead dead, it looked like the case would have to end unresolved, but she wanted to see if the immortal assassin had any tricks that would let her continue.
The orphans were playing in the yard when she arrived at Rosethorn Hall, and she had to walk around their games to reach the front door. A mare Berry hadn’t seen the last time she’d been here opened the door for her and led her down to the basement. Once the caretaker had gone back upstairs, Berry knocked on the rugged wooden door to Shadowmere’s quarters.
She was about to knock again when the door slowly swung open on its own. Berry trotted through the dark hallway to the second open door, the first slamming shut behind her. This time when she entered Shadowmere’s rooms, she was careful not to disturb the line of dust in front of the doorway.
“You have news,” Shadowmere stated from where he sat in a luxurious armchair, paging through a fragile-looking tome.
“Yes, I found the pony who released the gargoyle. Unfortunately-”, Berry said, pausing as Shadowmere made eye contact with her. She would have to get used to seeing those orbs of fire in a pony’s face. “Unfortunately, he’s dead.”
“Gallant Fox?” Shadowmere asked.
“How did you know?” Beryl asked indignantly. If he had known all along and hadn’t told her, she was going to be very angry. She could have gotten to him before he died and gotten information from him.
“Relax,” Shadowmere commanded in an even tone, “I only knew that he jumped to his death last night, until now.”
“Oh, all right,” Berry said, feeling foolish, “So, what do we do now?”
“Don’t you think this suicide was a little too convenient?” Shadowmere asked, “Just when you were closing in on him, he decides to jump off a bridge. Very suspicious.”
“Are you suggesting somepony or something else killed him?” Beryl asked, “Witnesses claim that there was nopony else around when he jumped.”
“Maybe not, but you should know that that doesn’t prove anything,” Shadowmere said, “As a mare of the Ministry, didn’t you consider that this could have been a possession?”
“Well, a powerful vampire could do it, but if one strong enough to do that showed up in Canterlot, we’d know about it,” Beryl said.
“Maybe, maybe not,” Shadowmere said, and he set his book down and stood, “In any case, there are plenty of other creatures more frightful than vampires that could have forced Gallant Fox to do what he did. It could have been a succubus, or a tantibus, or heaven-forbid it could even have been a Draconequus warping his mind.”
“How can we tell?” Beryl asked and followed as Shadowmere started to trot toward one of the many doors that led out of his parlor, “And how does it help us if we find out?”
“Whatever led Gallant Fox to kill himself probably also forced him to throw the gargoyle from the roof. If we find what’s behind his death, we’ll find what’s behind the gargoyles’ return,” Shadowmere said as he paused to open the door, “I’m going to investigate his apartment tonight. I need you to find out from his family and friends if he was acting unusual before his death.”
“I’m on it,” Beryl said.
***
“Can I help you?” a middle-aged mare asked as she cracked open the door to her apartment.
“Agent Beryl Fields. I have a few questions about your son,” Berry said as she flashed her badge.
“What for?” the mare asked suspiciously, closing the door a little, “The police were already here.”
“I’m from a separate government organization,” Berry said, “I know it must be hard for you, but I need to ask you some more questions.”
“You won’t take no for an answer, will you?” the mare asked, and she opened the door the rest of the way when Berry shook her head, “Come on in.”
The apartment was small and sparsely furnished. Boxes were scattered here and there, indicating that Red Fox had moved to this apartment recently. She led Beryl into a living room with a couch, a few chairs, and a record player. Before she sat down, Beryl got a good look at some of the pictures lined up on a shelf. Most of them featured the garnet-coated mare she was visiting with a sky blue pegasus and a younger version of Gallant Fox.
“Did you notice Gallant Fox acting strange recently?” Beryl asked as her first question.
“Of course I did,” his mother replied angrily, “Do you think perfectly sound judgment led him to kill himself? He was hurting, and I tried to help him, but he just pushed me away. He seemed to think I’d abandoned him, but I’d never do that. Eventually, he just stopped getting in touch with me all together.”
“When did you last hear from him?” Berry asked, writing down what Red Fox had said on a small pad.
“The police already asked me that,” she answered with suspicion.
“Please, for the record,” Berry said, holding up the pad.
“It was over a month ago, around the same time his marefriend broke up with him. She tried to get him help too, but he forced her away. When she left, things must have only gotten worse for him. I didn’t hear a single thing from him until the CPD showed up at my door this morning and asked me to identify his body.”
Beryl had already interviewed the mare Gallant Fox had been seeing until only recently and his coworkers at Hierophant Tower, and they had all told pretty much the same story. The problem was, none of them really knew what had really been going on in the janitor’s head.
“You said he was hurting,” Beryl said, “Do you know why?”
“He never talked about it, but it had to have been because of his father,” Red Fox confessed on the verge of tears, “My husband, Gallant Glider, died almost a year ago. We were both hit pretty hard by it, and I was no help to him. His friends helped him through that rough patch, and my friends helped me get by. I thought he was fine until just a couple months ago. I couldn’t help him; it’s my fault he’s dead.”
“It’s not your fault; there was nothing you could do,” Beryl tried to comfort the mare as she sobbed, ironically feeling very uncomfortable doing so.
“I-I-I should have taken him s-seriously when he told me about the nightmares,” she sniffled on.
Nightmares? That was new information and, more importantly, it seemed like something Berry could use to narrow down her search for whatever may have been possessing Gallant Fox.
“What did he tell you about his nightmares?” she asked.
“What does it matter?” Red Fox sniffed.
“I think it could be important,” Beryl answered.
“He never really told me exactly what they were about,” Red Fox said, “He just said that he was afraid to sleep because the nightmares would keep coming. I didn’t think much of it until the rest of his personality started changing too.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, before he was depressed, he seemed… paranoid, like something was after him.”
“Thank you for your time, and my condolences on your loss,” Beryl said as she mulled things over in her head and rose to leave.
***
Berry laid her head on her desk. Her search thus far for what had possessed Gallant Fox had been fruitless. The Ministry bestiary couldn’t find any documentation on any creature that fit the circumstances. She had found several monsters that caused nightmares, but none that could also control their victims’ actions. A powerful vampire could conceivably do both, but Red Fox had said that her son was paranoid without naming what he was afraid of. Anypony who was afraid of a vampire would be able to name the source of their fear, of that much Berry was certain. She’d even tried searching for the creatures Shadowmere had mention, but the Bestiary held no information on succubae, tantibae, or Draconequi.
The sound of lightning sizzling and a small flash of light caused Berry to look up. A small scroll was sitting on her desk, sealed with a circle of blue wax bearing the symbol of the Ministry. The blue wax meant that the letter had come directly from the Ministry’s director herself, so Beryl quickly tore it open.
Agent Beryl Fields,
Due to the nature of your ongoing investigations, I request your presence in my office as soon as possible.
Director Thistleback
“We are the shield that protects Equestria from the things in the darkness; we hold the key to Tartarus and wield the sword that sends them there.”
Thistleback’s letter was short and to the point. But that was what one expected from the unicorn who had worked to make the Ministry as efficient and effective as possible. Beryl had no other pressing matters at the moment (and it wouldn’t have mattered if she had), so she left her office and headed out to meet with the Ministry’s director.
Reaching the Director’s office required her to first head back to the Ministry’s entrance. As she passed through, she noted with concern that the number of incidents for the month was in the 130’s already. Since the windows of the Director’s office looked out on the entrance, Beryl was able to see it long before she could reach it. To meet with Thistleback, she had to first head down a long hallway, take two flights of stairs up, get magically scanned, and then take a teleporter pad up to her office’s level.
Thankfully, the Director wasn’t busy at the moment, and Beryl was let into her office immediately. The room was spotless, but also very empty. The only furniture in the room was a desk, a long table surrounded by chairs, and two filing cabinets containing the files of every current Ministry agent. The white tiles of the floor and the white walls and ceiling gave the room a very sterile feel, as if you had just stepped into an operating room with well-polished wooden furniture.
“I see you received my message, Agent Fields,” the Director said without turning around as she stared out the windows of her office down at the Ministry entrance below.
Thistleback had a warm golden-brown coat that fit well with her office’s furniture, and a mane and tail the exact same color as everything else in the room. Beryl wondered if maybe she had modeled the office after her own appearance. When she had been recruited as an agent, Thistleback had already been the Director for several years, so she had nothing to compare to. If she had modeled her office after herself, she had matched it to her personality as well. Thistleback had her warm touches, but as a whole she was as cold and ruthless as they came.
“Reporting for duty, ma’am,” Beryl said with a salute, “What did you need to speak with me about?”
“I have a question for you, Agent Fields,” Thistleback said as she turned and trotted over to her desk before resting her forehooves on its polished surface, “Can a hunter be effective without intimate knowledge of her prey?”
“No, ma’am, I don’t believe she can,” Beryl answered. She hoped she wasn’t about to be given the third degree about where she’d learned about gargoyles. She’d made an agreement with Shadowmere, but he was also the Black Briar, whom the Ministry was supposed to arrest on sight, and she was a loyal member of the Ministry. Hopefully, the Director wouldn’t force her to choose between the two.
“You did quite well in tracking down those gargoyles even without complete knowledge,” Thistleback said while Berry began to sweat, “It makes me wonder how effective you could have been were you completely informed.”
“Ma’am?” Berry asked, a bit confused.
“How long have you been an agent here?” the Director said as she dropped to all four hooves and began to trot around behind Berry.
“Nine years, ma’am,” Berry replied, and it came as a bit of a shock to her as well. Have I really been an agent that long?
“I remember back when you were our rising star. I thought at the time that you’d be head of a branch office by this point,” Thistleback said, reminding Beryl of a past she’d sooner forget, “But your rapid advancement all came to a halt with that incident four years ago. What happened to you?”
“I don’t know, ma’am,” Berry said, fighting to keep her face and voice neutral.
“Well, whatever happened, it looks like you’ve put it behind you, and you’re on the road to promotion again,” Thistleback said, and Berry let herself relax a bit, “If you’re going to be taking on threats at this new level, you’re going to need access to the Deep Archives.”
“The Deep Archives?” Beryl asked curiously as the Director made her way back around to stand behind her desk.
“The Deep Archives are where the Ministry keeps all of its classified and retired information, and as such knowledge of their existence is disseminated on a need-to-know basis,” Thistleback explained, “I’m granting you level-3 access for now; that should suffice for your current experience level. To get there, follow the hallway past the offices, and when the corridor turns left, step through the wall to the right. The spell will let you through now.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” Berry said, giving a slight bow to her boss.
“You’ve earned it, but I’m expecting big things from you now,” Thistleback said, letting a smile tug at the corners of her mouth, “Don’t disappoint me.”
***
Berry made use of her new privileges immediately. She’d had no luck in retrieving information on her target through the Ministry’s bestiary, so she’d have to hope that the Deep Archives weren’t as lacking in data. She followed Thistleback’s directions, passing her office door and heading to the end of the hall. Autopsy was off to the left, but she turned and faced the opposite direction, waiting until nopony was watching to step through the wall.
What had previously appeared to be solid stone now impeded Beryl’s progress no more than air would have. She felt the slight tingling of magic as she passed through, and found herself in an empty hallway. Following it to the end, she entered a large, circular room empty but for an elevator carriage suspended in the center. Stepping inside, she pulled the lever to “DOWN”, and the carriage began to descend.
Inky blackness surrounded her in her descent, all except for the small globe of illumination from the light on the carriage. Using her magic, she shone her own light out into the darkness, and saw that the walls were a fair distance from the suspended carriage and were covered in spell runes and traps designed to kill any trespassers. What exactly was stored in the deep archives that warranted this level of protection? Sadly, Beryl wasn’t likely to find out with only level-3 clearance.
The elevator carriage lurched as it passed through a particularly potent magical field before suddenly coming to a halt as it landed. Beryl stepped off and made her way over to the only visible door illuminated by a single light over it. Pushing the door open, she found herself facing a large, empty room with a single desk in front of a heavy vault door. Sitting behind the desk was an elderly griffin, who took his hindpaws off the desk and straightened his glasses as he saw Berry approaching.
“Hello, can I help you?” the griffin asked with a prominent accent.
“Yes, this is my first time in the Deep Archives, and I’m not sure how things are done down here,” Berry said as she looked around the empty room before focusing on the griffin.
“My name is Boris; I’m the caretaker down here,” the griffin said as he extended a claw to shake, “How can I help you, Miss…”
“Beryl Fields,” Berry answered as she shook Boris’s claw, “I need to research monsters that can produce nightmares in their victims and also control their actions. The Bestiary wasn’t very helpful.”
“Level-3 access, I presume?” Boris asked as he reached inside his uniform and produced a key.
“That’s right,” Berry answered as the elderly griffin padded over to the vault door and slid the key into a previously invisible slot.
Several runes on the door’s surface became visible as he did so, and he touched them with his claw in sequence. Finally, he turned the wheel in the center, fully unlocking the Deep Archives. Beryl got a good look as he pulled the heavy gate open and she was able to step inside. A column of bookshelves dominated the room, and a gently sloping ramp circled it. From where she was standing, it looked to Beryl like the ramp went on down forever, circling the same massive column of books and scrolls. Along the outer wall were evenly spaced alcoves with desks where one could sit and read from the treasure trove of knowledge down here.
“Level-3 access will allow you to look at any records retired because the Ministry considered them out-of-date or no longer needed,” Boris explained, “Those are all stored here in this room, arranged alphabetically by subject. I should warn you that if you attempt to remove any records from this room, the magical shield in the elevator shaft will turn you to ash.”
“Thanks,” Berry told Boris, “Is there any way to search the Deep Archives?”
“Unless you mean manually, no,” Boris replied with a laugh, “Good luck.”
Once he’d left the room and closed the door behind him, Beryl got to work searching through the Deep Archives. It would be tough to search without being able to specify what she needed to find, but it would have to be done. She started with the creatures Shadowmere had mentioned and the Bestiary hadn’t been able to find. Surprisingly, the Deep Archives didn’t have any information on Draconequi either, so she trotted deeper to look into succubae and tantibae.
The Deep Archives had plenty of information on succubae, all of it ancient and fragile. Most of it looked to have been retired 800 years earlier after the Ministry confirmed the death of the last living succubus. It wasn’t likely that somehow they’d managed to return, but the gargoyles had been unexpected too, so Beryl looked into the records anyway. It didn’t take long for her to conclude that it was not a succubus they were dealing with. They were known to be able to control their victims, but any dreams they sent would most definitely not be called nightmares.
That left tantibae, which Beryl turned to next. Like succubae, there was a lot of information in the Deep Archives on them, but most records were unfortunately incomplete or contradictory, so it took Berry a long time to sift through them and get a clear picture on what a tantibus really was. The more she read, the more promising this lead looked.
A tantibus was created when an oneiromancer turned to the dark arts and began to maliciously enter other ponies’ dreams. Upon their death, they would become detached from their body and take the form of a tantibus. The evil creature could then manipulate the dreams of everypony around them. They would send nightmares more and more frequently as they fed off a victim until they were able to invade their waking mind as well, culminating in complete control over another pony’s mind and body.
It was entirely possible that a tantibus was responsible for Gallant Fox’s death. Oneiromancy had been illegal in Equestria for hundreds of years, but if somepony had picked it up and gotten involved in the darker side, there could be a new tantibus roaming Canterlot. Tantibae also had trouble existing in the physical realm for long, so they would feed on as many victims as possible before finding a host to inhabit. While in the host’s body, they had to wait for death to release them again with renewed strength. The longer a tantibus inhabited a pony’s body, the stronger they would be when they emerged, so many tantibae went decades without feeding. Because of this, the tantibus Berry was hunting could very well be one that had maintained a low profile for centuries as well. To be sure, she’d have to confer with Shadowmere.
***
Beryl had been down in the Deep Archives far longer than she had thought. By the time she emerged from the Ministry, it was already well into the night. She knew that the most sensible course of action would be to return home and meet with Shadowmere in the morning, but what if the tantibus forced another pony to kill themselves before then? From his case file, Berry knew where Gallant Fox’s apartment was, and she headed off toward it, hoping to catch Shadowmere there.
“I’ve already been inside,” the deep, gravelly voice came from the shadow behind her as she was about to enter the apartment complex, “What did you learn?”
“I think we’re dealing with a tantibus,” Beryl said, turning around to face Shadowmere, “Gallant Fox was having nightmares and he was paranoid something was after him.”
“I think you’re right,” the stallion answered, “I detected a tantibus’s magic in the apartment.”
“So how do we track it down?” Berry asked expectantly.
“We can’t,” Shadowmere answered, disappointing her.
“What? There’s nothing we can do to track it down?” Berry asked incredulously.
“Not directly, no,” Shadowmere said, looking Berry in the eye through his sunglasses, “There’s obviously somepony working with this tantibus, though. It wouldn’t have used its food source to topple a gargoyle and then killed him off to hide information otherwise. We need to speak to the owner of Hierophant Tower.”
“I looked into it already; it’s a dead end,” Berry said, shaking her head, “Hierophant Tower is owned by the Nocte Corporation. It’s run by a board of trustees, and they keep their internal affairs private.”
“Through other channels, I’ve managed to secure the name of the pony responsible for the Hierophant Tower Project,” Shadowmere said evenly, so that not even Beryl could see his burning anger that the name of the Draconequus he’d once fought for was now the name of a multinational company, “His name’s Prestige, and he’s in Canterlot right now. I suggest we pay him a visit.”
“Wait,” Beryl said as Shadowmere began to march away, his duster flapping out behind him, “Is this Prestige the same pony as the grandson of Purple Prestige, the pegasus who modernized the Equestrian rail system?”
“Yes,” Shadowmere answered simply, without stopping, and Berry was forced to gallop up next to him to continue the conversation.
“He’s the owner of CMFH Rail-lines,” she said, “What was he doing working with Nocte Corp. to build a skyscraper?”
“Now you see why we must speak with him,” Shadowmere harrumphed as he plodded along, “His actions as of late have been most suspicious. It cannot be mere coincidence that he also was in charge of the building the gargoyles came from.”
“So, what, you’re just going to break into his mansion and interrogate him?” Beryl asked.
“No, we’re going to walk in through the front door and have a friendly chat,” Shadowmere said with a slight smile.
***
“Who did you say you were?” the guard posted at the gate to Prestige’s manor asked the duo.
“I am the Lord Briarheart,” Shadowmere introduced himself, “Please tell your master that I have an important business matter to discuss with him.”
They had stopped back at Rosethorn Hall on their way to the private estate built on Canterlot Mountain high above the city. Shadowmere now looked like a proper Canterlot noble, though his outfit was a few centuries behind. He now appeared very similar to the portrait Beryl had first seen him in, except that he was now wearing a hat along with his suit, waistcoat, and cravat.
“What about her?” the guard asked suspiciously, gesturing to Beryl, who was still wearing her Ministry uniform.
“She’s with me; a bodyguard,” Shadowmere explained.
“Quite,” the elderly stallion harrumphed before opening the gate, “Go on in, but you might be waiting for a while.”
Celestia’s sun hadn’t risen yet, but the path to Prestige’s mansion was well illuminated by ornate lampposts. Berry and Shadowmere stood in a small sitting room as they waited for their host. It was still technically night, so Berry wasn’t holding her breath for Prestige to wake up and greet them any time soon. She distracted herself by examining his manor, which was curiously built in a style that was popular across the North Luna Sea but had never become more than a novelty in Equestria.
They’d only been standing there a few minutes when Beryl was surprised by the door they’d trotted in through sliding open. A pegasus with a lavender coat and a purple striped mane stepped inside, sliding the door shut again behind him. He was sweating profusely and was wearing one of the suits popular with the Wonderbolts for training with a towel draped around his neck. Prestige flashed a grin as he wiped himself down.
“Lord Briarheart, it’s good to finally meet you,” he said as he extended a hoof for Shadowmere to shake, “I won’t lie to you, though. It would have been nice if you’d chosen to visit at a time that didn’t interrupt my morning exercise.”
“I apologize for that,” Shadowmere said smoothly, “It’s a pain, getting old.”
“Tell me about it,” Prestige laughed, “You’ve managed to keep yourself in fine shape, if I do say so myself. Perhaps you could tell me your secret sometime. Please, sit.”
“You’ve invested in my company quite a bit over the years, but you never once came to visit me personally,” Prestige said once the three ponies were comfortably seated on cushions, “To what do I owe this pleasure?”
“I keep investing in your company because I keep seeing a profit. My accountant informed me that recently you’ve been involved in quite a… different venture, and I wanted to speak to you personally about it before deciding if I should invest,” Shadowmere said, “I understand that you were involved with the Nocte Corporation in building Hierophant Tower.”
“Right, that,” Prestige said, rolling his eyes and giving a wave of his hoof, “I don’t know what possessed me to get involved in construction, but I guess I had to stretch my wings before turning back to managing CMFH.”
“I thought that Hierophant Tower was a success,” Shadowmere replied, fishing for more information.
“Financially, yes,” Prestige admitted, “But my vision for the building was lost in the construction process. When it was finished, Hierophant Tower wasn’t even close to as beautiful as I’d imagined it. And those gargoyles? Ugh! I’m glad some hooligans stole them.”
“The gargoyles weren’t part of your design?” Shadowmere asked after sharing a look with Berry.
“Heavens, no,” Prestige said with disgust, “No offense, since you obviously enjoy older styles, but those ugly statues were meant to adorn crumbling castles, not the skyscraper that was supposed to be a symbol of Canterlot moving into the modern age.”
“So, whose decision was it to add the gargoyles?” Shadowmere asked.
“That would be the architect. She was insistent—even bull-headed—on the point. No matter what I said, she insisted that the gargoyles stay. I think—uh—Shining Light was her name. I don’t know why I chose her over an architect from Canterlot; just a strong feeling, I suppose. She can stay in Hoofington forever, for all I care now.”
“Thank you for your time,” Shadowmere said as he rose and gave Berry a nod.
“I do have another investment opportunity for you, if you’re interested. If I can buy out Vanhoover-Central, then-” Prestige stopped talking as Beryl’s spell hit him the forehead.
He passed out for a moment, and by the time he awoke, Shadowmere and Beryl were gone and he had no memory of his conversation with them. The guard at the gate also forgot having ever seen them as they left Prestige’s property.
“We need to get to Hoofington now,” Shadowmere told Berry as they descended Canterlot Mountain.
“I’ll file a transit form, but it’ll be a few days before I’m able to leave Canterlot,” Berry replied with a nod.
“No, we need to leave right away, while the architect is still alive,” Shadowmere said.
“I can’t just take off without warning,” Beryl said indignantly.
“Why not?” Shadowmere asked, “You obviously wouldn’t have sought me out tonight if you didn’t think we were short on time.”
“I know, but this would require me to deliberately break Ministry rules,” Berry said, “I’ve been breaking rules to work with you, but nothing that would draw attention like this.”
“Tell me, is it more important to protect ponies, or to follow these restrictive and senseless rules?” Shadowmere asked with a frown.
“I’m sorry,” Beryl said as she trotted away, “I know what’s right, but I just can’t do it.”
***
The express train from Manehattan barreled down the tracks to Canterlot precisely on schedule. The locomotive’s engineer sat back and let the engine do its thing. Some of the tracks around Canterlot were hazardous and required complete concentration, but this stretch was perfectly straight and there was no danger. The engineer flipped through his early edition of the Manehattan Times , but looked up every couple minutes to see if they were nearing the last bend before Canterlot.
He folded his paper up and tucked it away when he saw the track begin to curve around the mountain in the distance. He checked the boiler and the train’s speed before he looked up and saw a figure ahead. The lavender pegasus had come out of nowhere, flapping onto the tracks before stumbling around. The engineer put on the brakes, but it was too late.
***
“Put him away, Klaus,” Berry said, and the morgue attendant slid the mangled body of Prestige back into the cooler.
This was terrible. Shadowmere had been right. Prestige had killed himself only a few hours after they’d met with him; how long did Shining Light have left? Even if Shining Light wasn’t the next target, who knew how long it would be until the tantibus killed again? Beryl hurried back to the Ministry as fast as she could.
She had worried that this would happen. Prestige had seemed a bit off during their conversation, especially with his talk about making decisions he would never have made in normal circumstances, so Beryl had looked into his recent history after submitting her transit request. In the time leading up to the beginning of Hierophant Tower’s construction, the owner of CMFH Rail-lines had been to several doctors and psychiatrists complaining about recurring nightmares. He had also become more of a recluse than normal, though he acted fine in public. Now, with him committing suicide by jumping in front of his own train, she was sure that Prestige had been another victim of the tantibus.
Rushing through security as fast as possible, Beryl went directly to Director Thistleback’s office. Unfortunately, there were ponies waiting to get in this time. She had to wait until everypony finished their business before she was finally let into the office. The pony that greeted her as she entered was not Director Thistleback, but her second-in-command, Deputy Director Siren’s Song.
“Director Thistleback is out at the moment; how may I assist you?” the beige unicorn stallion asked.
“I submitted a transit request this morning, and I really need for it to be approved today,” Beryl said quickly.
“It’s a bit presumptuous to walk into this office and demand something like that, don’t you think?” Siren’s Song said with a frown.
“Listen Deputy Director Song, lives could be lost if I don’t get to Hoofington as soon as possible,” Beryl explained, trying to convey the urgency of her request.
“I’m afraid the Hoofington team will have to handle it, then. I wish I could help you, but my hooves are tied,” Song said sincerely, “As you know, Director Thistleback has tried to eliminate all loopholes in the Ministry’s bureaucracy.”
So that was it, then. There was no way around having to wait for a transit request unless she flat-out disobeyed orders and left for Hoofington herself. Still, she knew now what she had to do. She’d known the answer to Shadowmere’s question that morning, but she’d been too scared to follow through. Protecting the lives of her fellow ponies was more important than following the Ministry’s rules.
“Sorry for wasting your time,” Berry said as she rose from her chair and turned her back on the Deputy Director.
“If you’re about to do what I think you’re about to do, then I have something to say to you,” Siren’s Song said, and Berry stopped and turned around to face him, “Good luck.”
“Excuse me?” Beryl said, a bit confused.
“Director Thistleback may have forgotten the purpose of the Ministry, but I haven’t,” the stallion said, “We were created by Celestia to protect ponies, and we were given the authority to do that no matter what stood in our way. As I see it, that includes the Ministry itself if it interferes with our mission.”
The Deputy Director gave Berry a smile and a nod, and she returned it before turning and leaving the office with purpose in her stride.
***
The next morning, Berry stepped off the train at the Hoofington station. She had booked the last train from Canterlot, and had slept all the way to this town on the frontier. It was liberating, in a way, to be able to do what she knew was right without having to rely on the Ministry to back her up. She still had to be careful; Hoofington wasn’t a large city by any means, but it was large enough to warrant its own Ministry branch office. Berry didn’t know if there would be other agents looking for her, but there was no reason to take chances.
She started her search the in the simplest way: by asking around town. Surprisingly, nopony she asked knew anything about Shining Light. Stumped, Berry headed to the town hall in search of records. The city clerk recognized her as a Ministry agent, but not as one from their office, and she had to talk to her awhile about being new in town. When the clerk was done telling her all about Hoofington, she led her to the records, and Berry was able to search for Shining Light. Once again, though, her search proved fruitless. No pony named Shining Light had ever lived in Hoofington. She was beginning to think that Prestige had lied to Shadowmere.
She had wasted most of her day by the time she finally found something. Looking through the newspaper records, Beryl found a copy of the Hoofington Bugle with a small article in the back about a “local architect chosen to design a skyscraper in Canterlot.” The article consisted of a small interview with Shining Light, where she talked about her (rather unimpressive) architectural experience and the trials she’d been going through since her husband had fallen into a coma several years earlier. There wasn’t even a picture.
It wasn’t much to go off of, but it was all Beryl had. The article said that Shining Light lived out to the west of town, outside the city limits, so that’s where the Ministry agent headed. It was heading towards evening, and the streets of Hoofington were largely deserted, but Berry had no fear. She was an agent of the Ministry, and she had fought and killed plenty of creatures more dangerous than common thugs. As such, she didn’t panic when she was attacked in a dark alleyway, not until she got a good look at her attacker.
The mare who’d tried to hit her with a bottle had dark circles around her eyes, but her eyes themselves were milky white, and she stared ahead blindly. Her face looked sad, but also scared and confused at the same time. She stumbled forward drunkenly as she tried to strike Berry again. Berry dodged her attack easily, but backed into a stallion that looked and acted the same way. More of the zombie-esque ponies quickly entered the alleyway.
“Get back!” Beryl yelled as she conjured up her magic sword and swung it around.
She had no idea what she was fighting, but given the chance that they were still ponies, she altered her magic as they advanced to stun them only. She slashed through them as they rushed her, letting out unearthly wails and moans. She tried to work her way around to the main street as the ponies she dropped got up after only a few seconds of being stunned.
“Daybreak, to me!” she heard Shadowmere yell as he galloped into the alley.
He swung his otherworldly greatsword around through the crowd, sending bodies of ponies flying. Beryl hesitated only a moment before changing her magical sword back to its deadly state and hacking through the ponies pressing in around her. Together, it took them less than a minute to clear the alleyway.
“Daybreak, be gone,” Shadowmere said before turning to Berry, “So you decided to come.”
“You were right,” she admitted, “Protecting ponies is more important than following the Ministry’s rules.”
“I’m glad to see you here,” Shadowmere said, and Berry thought that he sounded very sincere.
“What were those things?” Berry asked, looking at the scattered corpses around them and hoping they weren’t really ponies.
“Husks,” Shadowmere answered with contempt, “This is what happens to a pony when a tantibus drains them completely. The body can still move around, but the pony inside is long dead. This is a very bad sign. If the tantibus is turning its victims to husks, it must be getting ready to inhabit a new host. We have to stop it before that happens and it disappears into the crowd of ponies.”
“I found where Shining Light is,” Beryl said, “I was on my way there when I was ambushed.”
“No doubt that’s why you were ambushed,” Shadowmere said, “Let’s get there before something unfortunate happens to her.”
No more husks attacked them as they made their way to Shining Light’s home. The house was built next to a country road outside of Hoofington. It was a simple one-story home, and though it was already starting to get dark, there were no lights shining in the windows. Berry knocked on the door as they reached it.
“H-hello?” a mare’s voice came from inside as the she cracked open the door.
“Shining Light?” Berry asked, “We need to speak to you.”
“What about?” the mare asked quietly, cracking the door open a little more and letting Berry get a good look at her.
From the newspaper article, Berry knew that Shining Light was middle-aged, but the pony standing inside the house looked much older. All those extra years she seemed to have accumulated rather recently, though, through stress or terror. She had dark bags around her eyes, as if she hadn’t slept in a while, and her light gray coat and brown mane were a mess. Her eyes were filled with fear and suspicion, and they darted all around as Beryl watched her.
“Hierophant Tower,” Berry said, but she didn’t get to explain further as Shining Light slammed the door shut.
“Go away!” she shouted from inside the house, “I don’t want anything to do with you!”
In the Ministry, Beryl had been trained on how to force open a door, and she was able to easily kick open the one in front of her. It was pitch black inside the house, so she projected some light from her horn. Her hoof knocked against something soft as she entered, and when she looked down she saw the body of a husk lying on the floor with a kitchen knife impaled in its neck.
“We’re not here to hurt you,” Beryl tried to reassure Shining Light as she trotted slowly through the dark, “We just want to talk.” She drew her crossbow just in case the architect tried to jump her; she would shoot to wound only.
“What is there to talk about?” Shining Light called from somewhere in the house, “I did what you asked; I trusted you. Then you sent my neighbors to kill me! I had nothing to do with what happened to your statues; why did you take my Amber away?”
“Statues? Do you mean the gargoyles?” Beryl asked, trying to pinpoint where the voice was coming from.
“Yes! I did exactly what you told me to!” Shining Light screamed, “I fought with that business-pegasus until I was blue in the face about it! The gargoyles were completed. That was our deal!”
“Listen; whoever you made this deal with, I’m not with them,” Beryl tried to comfort Shining Light, “I’m trying to track them down.”
“Why?” the mare responded very suspiciously.
“Unless I stop them, they could hurt a lot of ponies,” Beryl said, giving up on finding Shining Light. The house wasn’t that big, but she obviously wasn’t going to be found unless she wanted to be.
“Amber,” Shining Light gasped breathlessly.
“I think you should tell me everything,” Beryl said, trying to coax information out of the mare.
“M-my husband, Amber Rain, has been in a coma for years. I tried everything to get him to wake, but nothing worked,” Shining Light confessed, “I’d almost given up hope until I got a message a year ago from some ponies who said they had a new procedure that could work, but they wanted something in return. They said I would get a call soon asking to work on Hierophant Tower, and I needed to take the job. After that, they sent me a set of detailed diagrams they insisted I include on top of the building; I was so desperate that I didn’t question them. I realize now how shady it was, and now they’ve got Amber and they tried to kill me and…”
“Do you know where the ponies who hired you are?” Beryl asked.
“No, I never met them, and any time I tried to find them I hit a dead end. I should never have trusted them!” Shining Light said angrily.
“Do you know where Amber Rain is?” Shadowmere asked, speaking up for the first time since they’d arrived.
“The doctors at Hoofington Memorial said they’d transferred him to Canterlot General this morning, sending him by train,” Shining Light sniffed, “But even if he made it to the hospital, they’ve got him now.”
“Don’t worry, Shining,” Beryl said, “We’ll get your husband back.”
“R-really?” she asked and showed herself, stepping into Beryl’s light before embracing her, “Oh, thank you!”
Shining Light’s body went limp as Shadowmere placed his hooves on either side of her head and murmured an incantation. Scooping her up, her carried her over to a couch and set her down gently.
“What was that?” Berry asked.
“She’ll sleep now,” he replied, “Probably for the first time in weeks. I’ve already warded the house against attacks, so she’ll be safe. We need to get to Canterlot.”
“How?” Berry asked as they left the house, “The next train to Canterlot doesn’t leave until morning.”
“We don’t have that long,” Shadowmere said as he trotted around examining the landscape, “The tantibus’s plans are clear to me now.”
“Could you enlighten me?” Berry asked as she curiously watched the stallion prance around.
“A tantibus can’t choose just any host to enter; it has to be somepony willing or somepony with a tranquil state of mind,” Shadowmere explained as he continued his odd zigzagging, “It’s going to use Amber Rain as its host. Luckily for us, the process of entering a host requires a complex ceremony that should be easy to locate. Unluckily, the ceremony must be completed at exactly midnight, which gives us about forty minutes to get to Canterlot and stop the tantibus.”
“So, what are we doing wandering around in the wilderness, then?”
“Do they teach you about passages at the Ministry?” Shadowmere asked as he looked over his shoulder.
“Only the theory,” Beryl replied, “Ley-lines and the like.”
“Ley-lines are bunk,” Shadowmere snorted, “Passages are real, and there’s got to be one around here that leads to Canterlot.”
“Found it!” he proclaimed as he tapped his hooves together, and a portal opened up in front of him. The sky grew suddenly overcast, and lighting streaked through the yellow-tinted air as the portal solidified, showing a crude path on the other side.
“You’ll want a weapon ready,” Shadowmere said as he looked back at Berry after drawing a rapier from under his duster, “Foul creatures inhabit the space between worlds. Stay close to me and don’t stop moving, whatever you do.”
“Got it,” Beryl said as she conjured up her magical sword.
“Let’s get to Canterlot,” Shadowmere said as he galloped through the portal.
Beryl followed, sticking close to the stallion as they entered a nightmare realm. The portal disappeared behind them as they galloped down the path before them. On either side of the rough trail, lifeless land sloped up, a dead tree leaning away from it here and there. Dark clouds swirled in the sky, and Berry could hear rumblings. Whether it was thunder from the lightning that coursed through the air or the growls of some beast, she didn’t know.
A high-pitched squeal came from her right, and she swung her sword around as she turned, slicing the attacking creature in two. Following Shadowmere’s instructions, she didn’t stop running, but she did crane her neck around to get a look at what she’d killed. It was like nothing she’d ever seen, though it vaguely resembled a hairless, six-limbed monkey if its face had been horribly deformed. She shuddered as she faced ahead, keeping a lookout for any more of the creatures.
A cloaked and hooded pony with unnaturally long legs appeared on a rise where the path split in two directions. Energy sizzled off the staff it was carrying, and flaming hail began to fall from the sky. Shadowmere pulled spikes from his gauntlets and dipped them in a jar of poison before throwing them at the figure. The hail stopped as the barbs sunk into the creature’s face and its head exploded, the rest of its body turning to mist.
The two ponies galloped down the rightmost path and all was quiet for a while, until a herd of the monkey-creatures jumped off the surrounding ridges and converged on Shadowmere. He expertly impaled them, but there were many clawing at him and trying to bite through his clothing. Beryl drew her crossbow to try to shoot them off of him.
A wail accompanied the beat of wings as another creature flew overhead. This one had a pony’s body, but gigantic, leathery bat wings extended from its back, and it had a long, scaly tail. Berry ducked low to the ground as it spit fire at her. Swapping the iron bolt in her crossbow for an explosive one, she fired at the beast, striking it directly in the chest. Its entire torso was blown apart, and the portion of the body with wings still attached glided down, passing close over Shadowmere and knocking the rest of the monkey-creatures off. While they tried to make their way out from under the corpse, Beryl finished them off with another explosive shot.
The two ponies continued on through the passage, slaying monsters in their wake. Beryl had no idea how Shadowmere knew where he was going, but she had to trust that he was leading them in the right direction. It was a long, perilous path to Canterlot.
***
“I’m sorry, but there’s no Amber Rain on the patient list,” the nurse at Canterlot General Hospital told Beryl, “It says here that he was supposed to arrive here today, but the ambulance we sent to pick him up from the train station never returned.”
“Thank you for your time,” Berry said as she turned and left.
Time was running out. Taking the passage to Canterlot had been quicker than any possible form of transportation other than teleporting (which over such a distance would be impossible for even the most skilled magic-user), but it still ate up time. Shadowmere and Berry had emerged from the passage near Canterlot Castle, so it had taken even more time to gallop over to Canterlot’s primary hospital. They had hoped that the tantibus would be holding the ceremony at the hospital, but it looked like that wasn’t the case.
“He’s not here,” Berry told Shadowmere as she exited the hospital and the stallion separated himself from the shadows, “The ambulance they sent out to get him never returned. Do you think it even made it to the train station?”
“Probably not; most likely, he was captured at the train station, and the ambulance was destroyed so the medics didn’t question why the pony they were sent to pick up wasn’t there,” Shadowmere said, “We don’t have time to search all of Canterlot for him, though.”
“The train Amber Rain came in on, it came to Canterlot from Hoofington,” Berry said, thinking aloud, “Technically, he would be considered cargo, not a passenger, so somepony would have to sign for him. That would mean that whoever took him would be in the Canterlot-Manehattan-Fillydelphia-Hoofington Rail-lines records, right?”
“I think you’re right,” Shadowmere said, “Of course, the CMFH Rail-lines office is in Manehattan, but I’m sure Prestige kept his own records here in Canterlot.”
“We just have to hope the report was sent to him before he died,” Berry said, looking up the mountain in the direction of Prestige’s estate.
***
“I don’t think we’re going to need those records,” Shadowmere said as they stood before the gate to Prestige’s mansion.
Past the wall surrounding the aristocrat’s complex, they could see dark clouds swirling over Prestige’s private gardens. The guard who’d been outside that morning was conspicuously absent, and the gate wasn’t locked. It swung open easily as Beryl and Shadowmere charged inside. The courtyard was empty except for an abandoned ambulance carriage, so they headed straight for the path leading up to the gardens.
“These should hurt the tantibus while it’s still in its pure form,” Shadowmere said as he passed Berry crossbow bolts of black iron and a few leather-covered grenades, “We’ve got to kill it before it enters Amber Rain.”
Beryl nodded and placed one of the bolts in her crossbow in preparation. When they reached the area of the gardens the dark clouds were hovering over, they saw that it was filled with husks. Many of them appeared to be Prestige’s servants, but there was plenty of variety in the others. It looked like this tantibus had chosen victims from all sections of Canterlot.
The tantibus itself hovered over the motionless body of Amber Rain, still lying on a gurney from the ambulance. This tantibus had once been a pony, and its appearance was still very much pony-like. Its form glowed with a sickly blue-green light, and its body past the waist turned to mist, but it was still clearly the form of a pony. Just like in the illustrations Beryl had seen in the Deep Archives, the tantibus had a flap of cloth hanging over its eyes and a ring of spiked metal around its forehead.
Not wasting a moment, Berry fired her crossbow at the tantibus, but one of the husks jumped in the way, and the bolt glanced off its skull.
“It’s a bit rude trying to kill me on my big night, don’t you think?” the tantibus hissed, its mouth only opening slightly. It was communicating primarily by thought, Berry realized. “Interrupting me right before the big finish, too. Poor form.”
Several husks were blown apart by green fire as they protected the tantibus from the grenades Shadowmere threw at it.
“It’ll be so nice to be in a stallion’s body, again,” the tantibus continued, “Last time, I must admit you forced me to change my plans. It was quite unpleasant for me, you know, to inhabit the body of a mare all the way through her long and wretched life.”
“I won’t let you escape this time,” Shadowmere vowed.
Berry produced her magical sword to slash through the husks, but paused when she heard Shadowmere’s response. If he’d hunted this tantibus before, why hadn’t he told her? Why hadn’t he tracked down the host and put the tantibus to death the last time? Was Shadowmere ultimately responsible for all the deaths this tantibus had recently inflicted?
“I want to know, Shadowmere, did you honestly lose track of me a century ago, or did you stop looking?” the tantibus asked, “I have a feeling it was the latter. You suspected I was in her all along, but you did nothing. Why? Because you couldn’t kill a newborn foal? See what your weakness has led to!”
The tantibus gestured to all the husks scattered around the garden.
“You’re right,” Shadowmere admitted, “I made the wrong choice back then, but this time I swear I will kill you no matter what happens.”
“We will see,” the tantibus said as it turned its head slightly toward Berry.
Shadowmere summoned Daybreak as the husks all attacked him and Berry at once. Whatever doubts she had, Berry decided they’d have to wait until after this business was over. She swung her sword around at the advancing husks, decapitating three of them. She kept an eye on the tantibus as she fought the empty ponies, looking for an opportunity to hit it with a shot from her crossbow or one of the grenades Shadowmere had given her.
The black stallion swung his greatsword around in wide arcs, carving the husks into pieces. When some tried to take him from behind, he kicked them in their faces with powerful hooves, crushing flesh and bone. With a whispered incantation, fire spread out from his body, incinerating all the nearby husks, but there were more on him in a moment.
With her sword, Berry killed the husks closest to her, and cleared those farther away with explosive shots from her crossbow as the tantibus began to wail a chilling incantation. A hole opened in the dark clouds above it, and the moon’s light shone down through it onto the tantibus and Amber Rain. Beryl desperately threw her grenades at the tantibus, but they all missed, exploding harmlessly outside the ring of ceremonial artifacts around Amber Rain’s bed.
Shadowmere forced the husks around him back with swings of his greatsword before drawing a complex sign in the air with his hooves. The ground around him opened up and swallowed the husks, pulling them into earth graves. While there was an opening, he grabbed a short lance tipped with black iron from under his duster. The husks grabbed onto him as he tried to throw it, but it still went flying through the air toward the tantibus. A bubble appeared around the tantibus as the lance struck and bounced off harmlessly.
“Too late,” the tantibus said, staring at Shadowmere.
The tantibus flowed into Amber Rain like water flowing down a drain. Mist swirled around the stallion for a moment, and a blue-green light glowed from his mouth and eyes before he was still again. The husks all collapsed to the ground lifelessly as the tantibus vanished completely. The night was silent but for the bells of Canterlot tolling midnight, until Amber Rain coughed and opened his eyes.
“What? What happened? Where am I?” he asked as he sat up.
Beryl raised her crossbow to point at the tantibus’s host.
“That won’t do any good now,” Shadowmere said wearily as he pushed the crossbow aside, “Only a silver stake to the heart can kill a tantibus when it is within a host.”
“Excuse me!” Amber Rain called as he waved at Beryl and Shadowmere, “Can you tell me where I am?”
“What does the tantibus think it’s playing at, acting innocent,” Berry said as she loaded a silver bolt into her crossbow.
“It’s not an act,” Shadowmere said glumly.
“What?”
“When a tantibus enters a host, it goes dormant. While its host is alive, it has no power, but when that host dies it emerges stronger than ever,” Shadowmere explained, “Amber Rain is awake and alive. He will live a life without sickness and he’ll die a natural death.”
“My wife, Shining Light, did she put you to this?” Amber Rain continued to talk.
“So, what the tantibus said about last time you were hunting it…” Berry asked Shadowmere.
“That was over a hundred years ago. I tracked the tantibus to Canterlot General Hospital, where it was going to enter another coma patient. It knew I was hunting it, though, so instead it decided to enter somepony else.” Shadowmere explained, “There was a foal who’d been born just days earlier with severe birth defects. Nopony expected her to live long; she was dying while I was there searching for the tantibus. After that night, she had perfect health. The doctors were baffled, but I knew what had happened. But, the tantibus had given a dying infant a chance at a normal life, and I couldn’t take that away. She died a year ago, surrounded by four generations of her descendants, and that’s when this tantibus reentered the world.”
“What’s with all this stuff?” Amber Rain asked as he jumped off the gurney and trotted past the relics around him, “Are we celebrating Nightmare Night early this year?”
“I made the wrong decision last time,” Shadowmere said with pain, “I’ve got to fix my mistake.”
“Shining Light,” Berry said, “What’ll become of her?”
“You saw the state we left her in,” Shadowmere said, “She won’t last long once she learns Amber is dead.”
“Wait,” Berry called to Shadowmere as he plodded off toward Amber, “This was my case. I’ll end it.”
“Are you sure?” the immortal asked as he looked back over his shoulder.
“I am,” Berry said solemnly, “The right decision usually isn’t the easiest, but it has to be made.”
“So, are you guys going to tell me what’s going on or not?” Amber asked as he descended the path through the garden to where Beryl and Shadowmere were standing.
He stopped as a silver bolt from Beryl’s crossbow pierced his heart. He remained upright, terror in his eyes for a moment, before falling to the cold stone. Blood so dark it appeared black seeped out of his mouth and chest as he lay still once again. Beryl turned to talk to Shadowmere, but he had already disappeared into the darkness.
***
The Moon Tower had two additional statues once again on this night. The nearby bell tower tolled three times before going silent. The larger of the bat-ponies shifted a bit, stretching his wings before speaking out into the darkness.
“You arrived swiftly tonight,” he said.
“Much has transpired this night and in the past days,” the second bat-pony answered.
“The tantibus is dead then.” It wasn’t really a question.
“Killed by an agent of the Ministry, though the Deathwalker was also there,” the answer came, “Prestige is also dead, and Shining Light is of no more use to us.”
“Prestige was a necessary loss,” the first bat-pony said, “He had outlived his usefulness, in any case. We have plenty of other pawns more highly placed than him.”
“What is to be done about Shining Light?” the other asked.
“Let her be; she knows nothing that could lead to us.”
“Very good,” the lesser bat-pony answered and paused before speaking again, “I received word that another of our brethren may still be alive. I would like to look into it.”
“Is your business here concluded?” the first figure asked.
“Yes; when he returns to his lair, the Deathwalker will suspect nothing is amiss.”
“Very well then; you have my leave to pursue this lead,” the first bat-pony said, flexing his wings again, “It is our duty to welcome Her children back into the fold, and when She returns, we must all be ready.”
Regal Script glanced anxiously at the clock in his office. Even in the summer, the sun would have set by now; Canterlot had just experienced its first snow of the winter that morning, so it was definitely dark outside. Today had also been his daughter’s birthday, and he desperately wanted to make it home before she was in bed. The stallion breathed a sigh of relief as he filed away the last form, his work finally done for the day.
As he left his office, Regal Script saw that the hallways and all the other offices were empty, typical for the time he usually got off work. The gas lamps set into the walls flickered as he walked past, lending an eerie quality to the hallway. They had recently been “upgraded,” but everypony at the Sunset Borough office of the Canterlot Police Department agreed that things had been better before. Sure, these new gas lamps were brighter, but they were far less steady than the ones that had lit the building previously.
At last, Regal Script had the office’s main entrance in sight. Sure enough, darkness had fallen outside, but at least it wasn’t snowing. There was even a taxi carriage waiting outside so that he wouldn’t have to walk all the way home. Perhaps he’d even make it back in time to see his daughter off to bed. All those thoughts were wiped away as he heard the sound of an opening door behind him.
“Ah, Reggie, glad I caught you before you left,” a stallion said, causing Regal Script to halt just in front of the door. Reluctantly, he turned around to face the peach-coated unicorn who’d just stepped out of the large corner office.
“Major Belle,” Regal Script addressed his superior coldly.
“I have a few documents I need you to file before you leave tonight,” Brass Belle said as he adjusted his overcoat, scarf, and hat to protect his copper mane and tail.
“Sir, can’t it wait until morning?” Regal Script asked as Major Belle dropped the case of documents at his hooves, “Or couldn’t you file them yourself? I need to get home.”
“You know I would do it myself,” Brass said, causing Regal to roll his eyes, “But I have an appointment with the mayor for the Canterlot Opera, and I can’t cancel. Remember to lock up before you leave.”
Before he realized what was happening, Regal Script was standing in the office alone, Brass Belle out the door and climbing into the taxi carriage. Angrily, he picked up the document case with his teeth and trudged back to his small, windowless office in the back of the station. He slammed the door as he entered, but the lock didn’t engage and it swung open a crack. Regal pulled the documents from the case and saw that they were not only not filled out—as usual—but they were also some of the most complex and confusing forms the CPD had.
“Just kill me now,” he grumbled in complaint as he spread out the forms and Brass Belle’s hastily written notes, and attempted to reconcile them.
Why did Brass Belle think he could get away with stuff like this? Most likely it was because he knew that he could. It wasn’t that Regal’s commander was an incompetent cop, but he wasn’t suited to head one of the CPD’s offices. It was common knowledge that Brass Belle had only received this post because of the political clout of the Belle family (and being a unicorn hadn’t hurt either). The noblestallion had respect for the field officers of the CPD (as he’d once been one himself, though the records Regal had seen didn’t indicate that he’d had many accomplishments), but he treated the other officers as you would expect a pony who’d been raised with a silver spoon in his mouth to treat those he considered his servants.
Engrossed in trying to hurriedly scratch down something on the forms before filing them away, Regal didn’t hear the door behind him slowly creak open, before swinging shut all the way. He squinted at Brass Belle’s messy notes, trying to decipher a word before giving up and reaching for the glasses in his desk. It would be the last action he ever took. He had no time to scream, but even if he had, the office was deserted and nopony would have heard him.
Darkest Shadows
***
“Disciplinary Hearing 1299-C538 will begin now,” Siren’s Song announced for the recorder’s sake, “Agent Fifth-Class Beryl Fields: please take your seat before the court.”
Beryl did as she was told and trotted down from the mostly empty stands of the Ministry’s disciplinary courtroom. A single seat waited directly facing the five elevated chairs of the disciplinary committee. As she sat down, Beryl saw that two of the seats were empty. On the far left sat Verdant Blades, the pegasus who was Chief of Operations. The green-coated mare had a reputation of showing no mercy in disciplinary hearings, so Beryl was glad to see that she seemed more interested in the papers on her desk than in the pony staring up at her. In the center, directly in front of Beryl, and on the highest perch, was Siren’s Song, who as Deputy Director was in charge of the disciplinary committee. Seated directly to the right was Director Thistleback herself. At the moment she was leaning back in her chair, but Beryl could see her eyes were as hard as flint. Not once since that day a month earlier had the Director summoned her to her office, and that a formal hearing was being held for such a trivial breach of rules was a good indicator that the Director had a personal hoof in the matter.
“The charges against the defendant are as follows,” Siren’s Song read, “Departure from area of operations without providing prior notice or adequate reason. Travel of greater than ten leagues outside of area of operations without an approved transit request. Failure to notify Ministry of adequate reason for transit request… I move that the defendant be absolved of all charges.”
The Deputy Director’s sudden and unexpected statement caused Thistleback to sit up quickly in her chair and Verdant Blades to turn and look at Siren’s Song.
“Absolutely not,” Thistleback said indignantly, “We will continue the hearing.”
“I know something like this must be unanimous to pass, but for what it’s worth, I second the motion,” Verdant Blades said evenly as she stared past Siren’s Song at Thistleback.
“Have you taken leave of your senses?” Director Thistleback asked the pegasus mare, “As Operations Chief, shouldn’t you be concerned when an agent disobeys orders?”
“Director, may I be frank with you?” Verdant Blades said after clearing her throat, and she steepled her forelegs in front of her on the desk, “You are, perhaps, the most qualified director the Ministry has had since Starburst the Radiant, back when she and the other six Knights of Dawn first founded it. However, the bureaucracy you inherited from Director Moonheart has only gotten worse during your time.”
“Excuse me?” Thistleback said icily as she narrowed her eyes.
“Your rules sometimes make it impossible for an agent to fulfill her job,” Verdant Blades went on, “Furthermore, this hearing is a waste of time. So far as I can tell, no actions were taken by Agent Fields that could be construed as endangering the Ministry and its mission.”
“I agree,” Siren’s Song spoke up, “This case centers around transit requests. While in theory they may be a good idea that lets us keep tabs on our Agents’ whereabouts, the approval process is so lengthy and cumbersome that the value is lost.”
“This hearing isn’t about the worth of existing rules, it’s about Agent Fields’s disregard of them,” Thistleback objected, “We will continue the hearing now, focusing on the facts of the case alone.”
“Very well,” Siren’s Song said, and he turned to look directly at Beryl for the first time since the hearing had begun, “As the first two charges are related—some might say redundant—I will ask you about them together. On the eighteenth day of Fading Light, did you travel greater than ten leagues outside of your area of operations without reason given before or after or with an approved transit request?”
“I did not,” Beryl said, glad that Thistleback hadn’t (yet) managed to get approval to use truth spells in cases as low as this. Still, she felt extraordinarily terrible about lying in court. The alternative, however, was to reveal how she had returned so quickly from Hoofington, which would also reveal Shadowmere to the Ministry.
“There is evidence to refute your claim,” Siren’s Song said as Thistleback stared at him, prompting him to bring up the evidence, “A ticket was purchased by you at Canterlot Grand Station at the date in question for a train traveling to Hoofington. This ticket was punched at departure from the station. Do you have a response?”
“Yes, I did purchase a ticket for Hoofington with the intention of traveling there without an approved transit request,” Beryl said, being careful to stick with her well-rehearsed cover story, “However, I ditched the train before it left Canterlot, realizing that I had not covered every possibility here.”
“It’s a good thing you did,” Siren’s Song said, “If you had traveled to Hoofington, you would have been unable to return in time to intervene at the Prestige estate that night.”
Beryl wasn’t sure, but it seemed the Deputy Director was giving her a look that communicated more than simple agreement with what should have been obvious facts.
“With this information in mind, I find the defendant innocent of the first two charges,” he continued, and went on before Director Thistleback could object, “On to the third accusation: failure to notify Ministry of adequate reason for transit request. Chief Blades, what are your thoughts on this?”
“As I see it, the definition of the charge is vague. The meaning of ‘adequate reason’ depends both on the opinion of the reviewer and the context of the situation, which can conflict. In sensitive or pressing investigations, it is prudent not to record the full details on a request shifted around past the eyes of many ponies. Given the nature of Agent Fields’s case, I believe the information she provided was adequate.”
Beryl looked up in amazement. Fire burned in Director Thistleback’s eyes as she glared at Verdant Blades. Everything was happening so perfectly to conspire against the Director that it couldn’t be coincidence. The Ministry’s Chief of Operations had anticipated every move and countermove of Thistleback and Siren’s Song, and she was prepared to assist the latter. Her apparent apathy at the beginning of the hearing had been merely an act; she had great interest in this case after all. Beryl didn’t know whether to feel relieved or more worried.
“I concur; the charge is struck down,” Siren’s Song said, “My verdict is this: Agent Fifth-Class Beryl Fields is found innocent of all charges against her. As is standard practice in such a case, a charge of one-hundred twenty-five bits will be deducted from her next paycheck for this court’s time.”
“This is unacceptable,” Thistleback said coldly as Siren’s Song rapped the gavel against his desk, though her eyes were still aflame.
“Director Thistleback, I am head of this committee,” the stallion addressed his boss, “The rest of the committee’s job is to advise me on the best course of action, and I have taken your and Chief Blades’s council into account. However, in the end it is the Deputy Director who decides how this committee will rule, and I have decided that Beryl Fields should not be punished, since she has done nothing to endanger the Ministry or its mission. That is the function of disciplinary hearings, isn’t it?”
“Of course,” Thistleback replied with steel in her voice. What else could she say? The Deputy Director had her trapped with the choice of yielding her point or claiming that disciplinary hearings were not for the Ministry’s benefit.
“Court is adjourned,” Siren’s Song announced as he rapped the gavel again.
The disciplinary committee disappeared from sight as they left. A few of the ponies in the seats departed as well, but the majority stayed, waiting for their turn on the stand. Beryl rose from the chair and trotted out of the courtroom, relieved that the ordeal was over. Surprisingly, she hadn’t had to say much, and didn’t know if that was a good or bad thing. If she had been questioned thoroughly, she didn’t know how long she could’ve held up the act and kept Shadowmere’s part in the events from being made known. That it had not occurred due to fighting between the high ranking officers in the Ministry worried her, though. She had never tried to get involved in such matters, but it seemed that now she was in the center of them. No; that wasn’t entirely true. She was less the center of the power struggle and more a pawn in their games.
She brushed this thought from her mind as she trotted down the hallway back to the atrium. This was no business of hers (or so she tried to convince herself). Maybe someday she would have aspirations to lead the Ministry, but for now she was content in her role as a field agent. That didn’t mean she didn’t have any ambition to become a better agent; working with Shadowmere forwarded that goal. Still, things weren’t back to the way they’d used to be.
“Agent Beryl Fields,” Siren’s Song said as he strode purposefully down the hall toward her, breaking her train of thought.
“Yes, Deputy Director Song?” she replied, standing to attention.
“Good job in there,” he told her before moving in closer and speaking conspiratorially, “I’m curious. How did you manage to get back from Hoofington so quickly?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Beryl replied as evenly as possible.
“Fine; keep your secrets… for now,” Siren’s Song said, “Let’s just make it clear that I know you were in Hoofington. I refuse to believe that it was a coincidence that Shining Light was nowhere to be found when our Hoofington agents inspected her home.”
That would be Shadowmere’s handiwork, she knew. When she’d attempted to visit him a few days after the incident at Prestige’s Estate, the caretakers had given her a letter from the immortal stallion. It didn’t say much, except that Shadowmere was going to find a place where Shining Light would be safe and undisturbed.
“Still, don’t think you’re out of the frying pan just yet,” Siren’s Song continued, “Director Thistleback was gunning for you back there, so I’d watch my back and stay out of her way in the near future if I were you.”
“Why was she so adamant about punishing me?” Berry asked, hoping the Deputy Director could provide some insight as to why Thistleback had pushed so hard to get her to trial and find her guilty.
“She’s taken your actions quite personally, I’m afraid,” Siren’s Song said as he rubbed his forehead with a hoof, “You disobeyed the rules so soon after she trusted you with access to the Deep Archives that she sees it as a betrayal. But enough about that; I have a new assignment for you, something that should keep you below Thistleback’s notice until she simmers down.”
A file floated in the air from Siren’s Song to Berry, and the color of the magic surrounding it shifted from ochre to purple as she accepted it.
“A clerk in the CPD was found dead this morning, torn to pieces. Head over to the Sunset Borough and track down what killed him.”
***
When Siren’s Song had said the victim had been torn to pieces, he hadn’t been exaggerating. Chunks of what had once been Regal Script were everywhere . On her way to the crime scene—a small office in the very back of the station—the looks on the faces of the police officers who’d peered inside told her that it would be bad. It took a lot to shake up the CPD so badly; thankfully, the Ministry was used to scenes far grislier than those the police were likely to encounter.
Nopony disturbed Beryl as she examined the room, a thin layer of magical energy over the floor keeping her from stepping on the bloody tiles or altering the evidence. As she circled around to stand beside the desk, she got a better view of what had happened. Regal Script had been sitting in his desk chair when he’d died, as evidenced by the pieces of his lower body plastered to the seat and lodged under the desk. Looking up, Beryl could see the marks and stains on the ceiling where parts of him had struck, many of which had later fallen back to the ground thanks to gravity. After considering the layout of the room, Beryl had to conclude there could only be one cause for this death. Something had managed to get inside of Regal Script and had torn him apart explosively.
“Well, Berry, what are you thinking?” a gruff stallion’s voice asked from the doorway.
“Grey Wind,” she greeted the investigator as she turned to face him, “I didn’t know you were here.”
“I was busy questioning the station commander when you arrived,” he explained, “Apparently, he was the last pony to see our victim here alive.”
“Brass Belle?” Berry asked as she looked at the bloodstained parchment on the nearby desk.
“Indeed; he said that he left Regal Script alone here last night around the tenth bell. Claims the clerk was filling out some late night forms for him.”
Paperwork. Bureaucracy , Berry thought, but didn’t say aloud. She recognized the half-finished form on the desk; the Ministry had similar documents. If it hadn’t been necessary, or the station commander had filled it out on his own, as he was supposed to, would Regal Script still be alive? She frowned as she pushed the thought from her head; Ministry agents weren’t supposed to think like that.
“So, any idea what killed him?” Grey Wind asked, seemingly oblivious to Beryl’s inner turmoil.
“It could have been a number of things,” Beryl said as she tried to search all her knowledge and training, “A powerful spirit could have done this, but so could some of the more barbaric breeds of vampire, or even a pony under a particularly nasty curse.”
“In other words, nothing that’s a walk in the park,” Grey Wind grunted.
“I’ll have to follow the magical signature to be sure,” Berry said, “I picked one up as I neared this room, but I wanted to have an idea of what to look for before I started following it.”
“Track it down; kill it,” Grey Wind said, echoing Siren’s Song’s words, “We can’t have any more cops dying inside their stations.”
Berry nodded her agreement as she stepped past the stallion and followed the magical trail down the hall. The magical residue was stronger than it rightfully should have been, but it was still faint, and Beryl had to lean down to get a better feel of it. Surprisingly, the trail didn’t follow the hall at an expected height, but was low to the ground and hugged the walls, never passing by doorways that must have been opened the night before.
Soon she was leaving the station, the officers at the front giving her odd looks as she followed the trail like a basset hound, except that she was sniffing it out with her horn instead of her nose. The magical residue led away from the station and across the sidewalk to the street. Any physical trail the monster might have left in the snow had been wiped out by the shuffling hooves of ponies on their ways to work and melted into slush by the sun. The trail led out to the street, sticking close to the curb, until Beryl eventually found its end at the nearest storm sewer drain. Whatever had escaped through it was definitely corporeal and larger than it thought it was, as the pavement was cracked. Wedged in the cracks were shiny green scales.
“A basilisk,” Berry said aloud as she made her conclusion.
It looked to be a fairly good sized one as well. It had to have been a member of a Zebrikaan breed; the Amarezonian and Coltsican breeds swallowed their prey whole. Still, she had never heard of even the most vicious Zebrikaan basilisks tearing their prey apart quite so violently. On top of that, she was almost certain that every piece of Regal Script was present in his office; why would the basilisk kill him and then leave without eating anything?
Beryl located the nearest ponyhole and pried the cover off with her magic. As she climbed down to investigate, she replaced the cover so that traffic could proceed unimpeded. The shallow layer of water from the melted snow splashed around Berry’s hooves as she touched down. She lit a light at the end of her horn and drew her crossbow before advancing down the sewer passage. The bolt nocked and drawn in her weapon not only had a piercing tip that would tear through the basilisk’s scaly hide, it would inject a poison into its bloodstream that would neutralize its petrifying gaze in seconds. Just to be safe though, she also put on her sunglasses, even though it made her feel a bit foolish to be wearing them in a dark passage underground.
Beryl’s ears twitched and swiveled as she tried to differentiate between the sounds coming from the sewers and the sounds from the street above. At least now the magical trail was strong enough that she no longer needed to dip her head down to the ground. The magical signature was growing stronger with every second, and Beryl was prepared when she spotted movement ahead.
The dark serpentine shape slithered its way through the sludge and runoff, darting back and forth from wall to wall. When it was still a good thirty paces from Beryl, it rose and tilted its wedge-shaped head to stare directly at her. It was a large basilisk, even larger than Beryl had expected it to be; squeezing through the storm drain had to have hurt it.
Wasting no time, Berry fired her crossbow. The bolt streaked through the air and struck the basilisk in the head. It had shifted a moment after she’d pulled the trigger, however, and instead of tearing through its nose and impaling its brain, the crossbow bolt entered the basilisk’s eye and tore out the side of its face. The monster hissed angrily and slithered as fast as it could toward Berry. Another bolt was already prepped in her crossbow, and she lined up a shot that couldn’t miss.
A whistling sound came from a side passage just as the basilisk moved in front of the opening. A moment later, a lance struck the giant snake a third of the way down its body and pinned it to the sewer wall. It tried to pull free, but the spear was made of silver and the barbed hooks halfway down the shaft kept the basilisk from sliding along its length. Three more lances entered the tunnel as the basilisk tried desperately to pull free. One struck it a hooflength ahead of the first, but it impaled it close to the skin and it easily pulled free, losing a good bit of scales and flesh in the process. The second lance missed entirely, bouncing off the sewer wall to land in the water at Beryl’s hooves. The third lance, however, struck the basilisk in the wound Beryl’s crossbow had made earlier. It easily skewered the monster’s brain before breaking through the tough flesh on the other side of the head and anchoring itself in the wall. The light in the basilisk’s eyes faded as its body grew limp.
Cautiously, Beryl approached the beast and got a better look at it. It was covered in the same shiny green scales she had seen up on the street, the scale type and pattern matching the norm for Zebrikaan basilisks exactly. However, it’s snout was more pointed than a Zebrikaan basilisk’s usually was and the ridges over the eyes were distinctly Coltsican. A cross-breed? It would explain several oddities with the case. Zebrikaan basilisks almost never actively hunted ponies, but members of the Coltsican breed were known to not only do just that, but to do it for sport if they were particularly nasty.
“Looks like I just saved your flank, Berry,” a dull blue pegasus said as he trotted out of the side corridor, the remaining lances on his back clattering together as he did so.
“Not hardly,” Beryl said, groaning inwardly as she recognized him, “And if you’re going to address me by name, it’s Senior Agent Beryl Fields.”
“Right, right,” Roaring Thunder said, waving a wing dismissively, “So, Senior Agent Beryl Fields , what brings you down into the Canterlot sewers?”
“I was following this basilisk’s trail,” Beryl replied coldly, having already checked to make sure the magical signatures matched, “Why are you here?”
“Looks like the Ministry accidently put us on the same case,” Roaring Thunder answered, oblivious to or unconcerned with Beryl’s attitude toward him, as usual, “We can rest easy knowing this monster’s dead. Did you see the victims?”
“One from last night; it was pretty gruesome. The body was all torn apart into little pieces, but the basilisk didn’t eat any.”
“Weird; all mine had at least some of the pieces eaten,” Roaring Thunder said, scratching his head with a wing, “It did just chow down on somepony the night before last though, so it may have been a sport kill.”
“Right,” Beryl said, trying to shake the feeling that she was missing something, before she turned away and headed back the way she’d come.
“See you at the Ministry!” Roaring Thunder called after her, but Beryl didn’t even pause in her canter.
A short time later she was back aboveground, trotting down the streets of Sunset Borough. Could the case really have been that simple? she mused. She’d nailed down all the details necessary to conclude that the hybrid basilisk had been behind the death of Regal Script; she even knew for a fact that it had been in his office the night before. Why then did she still have a nagging feeling that something was missing?
A startled scream was all that warned Beryl that something was amiss. She whirled around in time to see a carriage flying through the air at her with a very shocked pony strapped to the front. Berry ducked and slid across the sidewalk as the carriage flew overhead, landing on its wheels and coming to a stop as it collided with a lamppost. Seeing that the carriage puller was dazed but unharmed, Beryl looked the opposite direction to determine what had caused the carriage to go flying through the air in the first place. There was nothing; no nearby ponies, no cobbles out of place, no obstacles, no break in the curb; nothing. Beryl’s feeling of unease only got worse.
***
Berry hesitated before knocking on the door. It had been a month since she’d last seen Shadowmere, and that had been when he’d slipped away after the incident at Prestige’s estate. Beryl had shot an innocent pony that night. No—she had killed a tantibus and corrected a mistake Shadowmere had made decades earlier. No—she had killed a monster that would have caused untold suffering; that was what truly mattered. Still, why had Shadowmere left the way he had and remained out of touch for weeks? Beryl sensed that something had changed between them, but the last time she’d tried to speak to him, he’d been away. Now she couldn’t even knock on the door.
She sighed heavily and began to knock, but the moment her hoof touched the aged wood she heard the locks on the other side disengage. With a nudge, the door swung open onto the small room outside of Shadowmere’s main apartments. After Beryl stepped through and closed the door, the locks reengaged. The mare took a halting step forward before opening the inner door, whose locks also released at her touch.
Shadowmere was nowhere to be seen, but the lanterns on the walls were lit, so Beryl assumed he was somewhere nearby. Stepping through the doors had surely triggered some kind of magical alarm, so Beryl decided that rather than trying to search for the mysterious stallion, she would wait for him in the main room. As she waited, she trotted past the table with the model of Canterlot on it, admiring it with a new appreciation since it had proved so useful in the fight against the gargoyles. She wondered if Shadowmere had models of other cities stowed about in case of emergency. His ability to traverse Passages certainly made it seem likely that he acted on a national level.
Next to the chair Shadowmere commonly sat in, Beryl noticed an open book. It looked very old and she was gentle as she picked it up in her magic. She checked the title—A Complete History of the Ministry —before turning back to the page Shadowmere had left it on. The left page was dominated by an exquisitely drawn picture of a unicorn mare with a coat the color of cream and a fiery red mane that whipped through the air with its own will. She was dressed in full battle armor of silver-gold plate, a bright yellow seven-pointed star emblazoned on the front. In her magic she held two items: to her right a bronze staff with light blazing from the end, and to her left a legendary sword with a core of iron and edge of steel that Beryl recognized immediately as Eviscerator . On the right page, “Starburst the Radiant, Third Knight of Dawn and First Director of the Ministry” was boldly emblazoned in flowing and intricate script followed by her tale in much smaller writing.
“Hello, Beryl,” Shadowmere’s voice yanked Berry’s nose up from between the pages, “Enjoying the book?”
“A Complete History of the Ministry . This book was written to commemorate the Ministry’s bicentennial, almost eight hundred years ago,” Beryl replied, “Only ten copies were ever made. How did you manage to get ahold of one?”
“I told you; I helped found the Ministry,” Shadowmere replied, his gaze never leaving Beryl for an instant, “It wasn’t hard to obtain a copy.”
“Interesting subject,” Beryl said, looking back down at the book, “I thought you said the Knights of Dawn didn’t exist. What’s your interest in Starburst the Radiant?”
“A personal matter,” Shadowmere said simply, though Beryl almost thought she saw him wince slightly.
“I’m surprised you’re here,” he said after a few seconds of silence passed between them, “After what happened with the tantibus, I hadn’t expected to see you again.”
“Why would that be the case?” Berry asked, “It was regrettable that Amber Rain had to die, but it was the right decision, and—as you said—the right decision is rarely the easiest. If I wasn’t ready to make tough decisions, I wouldn’t have agreed to have you teach me.”
“That is… comforting to hear,” Shadowmere replied.
A long silence passed between the two ponies, thoughtful looks on both of their faces as they reevaluated their relationship.
“Speaking of teaching,” Beryl said, breaking the silence, “It’s been weeks since we met, and you’ve yet to formally teach me anything.”
“Never was much good at formal teaching,” Shadowmere grunted, “Usually I left that to others. Still, it couldn’t hurt to try to pass some of my knowledge on to you. When should we meet?”
“My last case was wrapped up much faster than I expected, and they’re not expecting me back at the Ministry until tonight, so I have some free time now,” Beryl said as she carefully put A Complete History of the Ministry back on the table next to Shadowmere’s chair.
“Very well, I suppose we can begin,” the stallion said, “Any thoughts on what to study first?”
“Well, we could start at the beginning: how the Ministry really was founded.”
“Another time, perhaps, and that’s far from the beginning, in any case,” Shadowmere said, “I think it would be best to begin by reviewing the material weaknesses of the different monster classes, so I can see what the Ministry taught you and I can expand upon or correct it.”
Was it Berry’s imagination, or had Shadowmere flinched again, even if just for a moment?
***
It was a grisly scene that greeted Beryl the next morning. Whatever had killed Regal Script had struck again, this time claiming two victims. She was sure now that the basilisk hadn’t been to blame. The couple who had lived in this apartment had had their bodies torn apart in the same way as the CPD officer and there was no trace of the basilisk’s magical aura. A trace of some other presence was nearby, but Beryl couldn’t quite pin it down.
It upset her that she had the same uneasy feeling she’d had the day before regarding this case, but there was nothing more she was going to get from the crime scene. Leaving the bloodstains and scattered scraps of flesh to the agents in charge of documentation and cleanup, Beryl left the apartment. Sitting outside in the hall was a silver-coated unicorn mare—the only witness to the scene inside. She trembled as she leaned against the wall, her eyes staring blankly ahead with shock. Her once-pristine purple mane was frazzled by the morning’s events, and tear-stains streaked her coat.
“Shining Crescent,” Beryl addressed her, “Are you able to talk with me now?”
“Y-yes, I think so,” the mare replied, her gaze swinging to meet Beryl’s.
“Can you tell me what you saw?” Beryl asked as she pulled a quill and notepad from her saddlebag.
“I was supposed to meet Dreamy Skies to go out for tea, like we do every week,” Shining Crescent told her story, “When I got here, the door was locked, and nopony answered when I knocked. That’s not odd; Flicker and Dreamy tend to sleep in the morning after a party, and last night’s was-was a good one. I have a key, so I let myself in, and-and-and… they were everywhere!”
“Flicker Frost and Dreamy Skies,” Beryl elaborated.
“It was awful! ” Shining Crescent exclaimed, “Dreamy was my best friend , and now she’s-she’s-she’s…”
Beryl waited for the sobbing fit to subside before asking her next question.
“Did you notice anything suspicious or out of ordinary at the party last night?”
“N-no… Basalt Grin—she lives next door and she doesn’t like it when Flicker and Dreamy throw parties—came over to complain, but Grace Belle told her to leave us be like she always does. You don’t think Basalt could have killed them, do you?” Shining Crescent said in horror.
“No; no pony could have done this,” Beryl said with a shake of her head, “Were there any flickering lights or cold spots?”
“Well, both actually, but that’s only to be expected since they just updated the gas lines for this building. The gas lamps flicker more than they ought to, but the building supervisor said that’s because they’re still tweaking the regulators. It was cold over by the windows, but that’s probably because the heating is being updated too,” Shining Crescent said as she wiped her eyes, “Why? Is that important?”
“Could be,” Beryl said before flipping shut her notebook, “Thank you for helping. You may go back home now.”
Beryl returned to the apartment, starting to piece together a theory. Flickering lights and cold spots were the common indicators of a powerful and malicious presence, but they could be easily explained away. It was hard to tell what indicators were real and which were false, unless you knew how to look. Stepping around the documentation crew, Beryl went to the large panoramic window that looked out to the west. The sensation she felt as she stood before the glass set her teeth on edge immediately. Without a doubt, something had been here the night before.
A monster was prowling this area, killing its victims in the most terrible way imaginable. This apartment building was on the edge of the Grey Warrens, right against the border with the Sunset Borough. Past the ledge outside that the apartment’s pegasus residents had used to quickly leave and arrive, Beryl could see the CPD station just a few blocks away. It was a straight shot there down the road that Beryl had been on the day before when the runaway carriage had nearly hit her.
Suddenly, everything snapped into place in Beryl’s mind. Whatever she was hunting had not only killed three innocent ponies, but it had tried to kill her in order to keep her from finding it. Nopony had seen what had caused the carriage to jump through the air, leading to the conclusion that the monster both had immense strength and could turn invisible. It couldn’t be a higher vampire; their magical signature would have been immediately apparent to Beryl. That left only a specter, a ghost of terrible anger and terrible power. The sensation Beryl felt while standing in this spot matched perfectly with the hole left by a ghost’s presence.
It was thrilling to finally come to a conclusion, but that conclusion was also frightening. Beryl knew that a powerful ghost was doing the killing, and she also knew that it was after her, intending to kill her before she could do the same to it. The killings always happened in the middle of the night, so she concluded that it was most “present” during those hours, making her chances of finding it before it found her slim while the sun was still up. She couldn’t stay here, but who knew how far this ghost could travel? The only safe places for her until dusk were the Ministry or Shadowmere’s hideout beneath Rosethorn Hall.
***
Berry pulled a heavy tome from her saddlebag as she sat down in the main room of Shadowmere’s apartments. The book Shadowmere had given her the day before was old—over a millennium at least—and the thick, leather-bound cover was pitch black, the pages within yellowed by age. Carved into the cover was the title: Munstra & Materia: A Studie of their Relaytionship . The content was written in a very old dialect of Equestrian that made it difficult to read, but not impossible.
“So, what did you think?” Shadowmere asked after he entered the room and set down a tray of tea and pastries of a kind Beryl was unfamiliar with.
“Orion Chaser certainly had a lot to say,” she commented on the author as she flipped to the page she’d last been on and grabbed a cup of tea with her magic.
“He certainly had some strange ideas as well, as you may have noticed,” Shadowmere said as he sat down, “It’s impossible to fully classify monsters based on the elements that do them harm—many have multiple weaknesses, and some elements overlap—but Orion Chaser sought to do it. His theory that monsters were born from a corresponding set of ‘anti-elements’ is also no more than theory. There’s nothing to suggest anything of the sort exists, and monsters are certainly not aligned to a particular power.”
“There’s certainly a lot of useful stuff in here, though,” Beryl said.
“Of course, otherwise I wouldn’t have kept the book,” Shadowmere snorted, “The weaknesses of monsters are all perfectly mapped, and this book contains information on four out of every five monsters in existence.”
“I see now why you have so many different kinds of weapons,” Beryl said, gesturing to the display cases and racks all around the room, “I try to keep an assortment of crossbow bolts on hoof, but it seems I’ve been missing out on many combinations. For example, I knew cockatrices were weak to silver, but I had no idea that pure iron plated in cobalt would have an even greater effect.”
“Indeed,” Shadowmere said, “Remember though, that with so many different opportunities, there’s no way to prepare for every scenario. A wise monster hunter picks the weapons she’ll have on hoof wisely.”
“There’s something I’ve been wondering,” Berry said as she turned to a page with a faded drawing of an all-too-familiar monster, “Tantibae are usually solo creatures; their ravenous hunger for pony life means that too many in one area would soon pick the area clean and draw attention to them. Assuming the tantibus at Prestige’s estate was working alone, why would it want to bring gargoyles back to this world? Furthermore, it knew you lived in Canterlot, so why would it have the Nocte Corporation build Hierophant Tower here?”
“I think we have to conclude that it wasn’t working alone,” Shadowmere said, shaking his head worriedly, “Some other power is involved here, but so far it’s eluded all my attempts to unmask it.”
“So, this isn’t over yet,” Beryl stated.
“No, I’m afraid not,” Shadowmere said, a frown creasing his brow, “The tantibus’s role is over though, and it seems whatever power it was working with is content with this state. A friend of mine in Maretonia is looking after Shining Light. He’s a mage at the duchess and duke’s court, so he would know if anything was still after her.”
“I see,” Beryl said, comforted that Shining Light would be protected, but also uneasy that whatever had started this whole mess and led her to Shadowmere was still out there, “It looks like we’re out of leads again.”
“Indeed,” Shadowmere replied, “I shall keep an eye out for any signs, and you should do the same. You said that you solved a case yesterday; has the Ministry issued you a new one yet?”
“No, I was wrong. I mistakenly thought a basilisk was to blame, but it turns out that a specter was responsible,” Berry said, “It’s a powerful one too, to be able to travel as far as it has. It knows I’m hunting it, too; yesterday, it sent a carriage careening out of control in an attempt to kill me. I’ll head out tonight after sunset and track it down.”
“It sounds like you’re dealing with a roamer, a powerful ghost not tied to a location or object like most are,” Shadowmere proclaimed, “Usually they still follow some pattern, thought. Did any of the areas it attacked have anything in common?”
“Not really,” Beryl said, scrunching up her nose, “The first attack was in a CPD branch office, the second on the top floor of an apartment building, and there was nothing special about the street where it threw the carriage at me.”
“Hmm, there’s probably some unseen connection,” Shadowmere mused, “In any case, kill that roamer before it claims any more victims. The way they kill—it’s gruesome.”
“I’ll say,” Berry snorted. “A pony blown apart from the inside out is something I hope I never have to see again.”
“Blown apart from the inside out, you say? That’s not normal for a roamer,” Shadowmere said with a frown, “Usually they chop off their victim’s limbs, turn their head around backwards, and carve their names into the body. Roamers’ weakness is their arrogance; by boasting they’ve returned from death, they make it easy to be tracked down. I’ve never heard of a roamer doing anything else, but there hasn’t been a roamer in Canterlot in years—centuries actually.”
“Just like gargoyles and tantibae,” Beryl said ominously.
“Precisely. It’s possible that whoever was behind those reappearances also had a hoof in this,” Shadowmere said, “Perhaps I should accompany you tonight and see if I can sense any linkage with the roamer.”
“I would welcome the company,” Beryl said simply.
“Good; it’s settled then,” Shadowmere said with finality, “Now, back to the lessons…”
***
Darkness gripped Canterlot as the two ponies made their way through the streets of the Grey Warrens. Beryl was prepared for the roamer, silver and iron bolts in easy reach to load into her crossbow and a magical ward placed around her body to protect it from harm. Shadowmere was dressed the same as she had first seen him all those weeks ago, his hood pulled lower over his face, hiding its features in shadow. He had two additional items tonight, brought along specially for the purpose of killing a roamer. On his back was sword in a sheath of dark black leather crosshatched with lines of silver. The V-shaped guard sticking out from the top looked oddly familiar, but Beryl couldn’t place it. The second item hung around the stallion’s neck. At first glance, it appeared to be a medallion, but on a closer inspection it proved to be a golden coin with a hole punched through it. Raised on one side was a unicorn stallion wearing a cloak with a fringe denoting royalty around his neck and full helmet on his head. On the other side was the head of a unicorn mare with the same fringe but a crown upon her head instead of a helmet. “Emperor Silver Cuirass and Queen Gilded Armor,” Shadowmere had said when Beryl asked who they were, but the names meant nothing to her. The coin was apparently attuned to sense ghosts, and they used its vibrations to close in on the roamer.
Beryl held up a hoof to alert Shadowmere that she sighted their quarry. In tracking the roamer down, they had traveled out of Grey Warrens and back into Sunset Borough, and were now standing on an empty street lined by townhouses. Parked outside one of them was a carriage with recent damage to the front end, the very same carriage that had nearly struck Beryl the day before. Hovering next to it was their ghost.
The specter floated at an odd angle, with her hindhooves just above the ground and her forelegs tucked close to her chest. In life she had been a unicorn mare, and her mane and tail had once been styled exquisitely. Now she was a translucent figure glowing a slight yellow, her mane and tail were disheveled, and her once-gorgeous dress was hanging in tatters around her. Some of the ghostly strands of fabric floated around her and swayed in unseen winds, lightning dancing along their ends.
“I recognize her,” Shadowmere growled.
“So do I,” Beryl said breathlessly, not believing her eyes, “That’s Lady Pewter Belle.”
Eight centuries earlier, Pewter Belle had been matron of the noble Belle family and a powerful member of the Royal Court. She had been so influential, in fact, that during her time the Royal Court was actually able to overturn some of Celestia’s laws and overrule her vetoes. Those who knew the truth about the noblemare often wondered if this was somehow linked to her other profession.
In addition to Canterlot politics, Pewter Belle had dabbled in black magic. Over a span of several decades, she’d overwhelmed the Ministry with monsters she summoned and enslaved. By the time they found out that Pewter Belle was a witch and put an end to her reign of terror, the Ministry’s numbers had dwindled significantly. The Ministry had arrested her, tried her, and ultimately executed her. Under Ministry supervision, Lady Pewter Belle had been hanged from a spruce tree of the same age as her with an unused straw rope. For good measure, a silver stake had been used to pierce her heart after she’d been hanged.
The Ministry’s actions should have been enough to keep the evil mare from ever returning in any form, yet here she was. Why, though, had it taken 800 years for her to manifest as a ghost? Had the Ministry’s attempts to lay her to rest permanently merely bought them a lengthy respite, or was something else at work here? Was this another act by whoever had unleased the gargoyles and the tantibus?
“Those fools ,” Shadowmere said through clenched teeth, “I told them hanging and impaling her wouldn’t be enough. ‘No remains,’ I said, ‘The body must be burned with hemlock.’ They didn’t dare, though, not with the whole city aware that she was missing. They had to let the family host an open-casket funeral for all of Canterlot to see, so burning the body was out of the question.”
“You were there eight hundred years ago,” Beryl said, “You really were part of the Ministry way back then.”
“I wasn’t part of the Ministry then; I’d already left,” Shadowmere said, “But there were some who knew me, and they asked me to place powerful binding seals on Pewter Belle’s casket. Those seals must have broken somehow, for now Pewter Belle is a roamer, just as I feared she would be.”
Beryl’s gaze swung back to where Pewter Belle hovered, staring straight at the carriage next to her, though her eyes seemed to be looking through it. Taking a few steps forward, Beryl got a better view of the carriage and the lettering printed on the side. “Belle Carriage Service,” it read boldly.
“Shadowmere, what do you know about the current Belle family?” Berry asked as she started to put things together.
“They’re a large family, even for nobility, with plenty of connections in court, industry, trade, and land across Equestria. There are three members able to claim the family title, all children of Sunspot Belle, who represented the family in Royal Court until she died a few years ago. Gale Belle is the head of the family now, and she’s the one who sits in Royal Court and handles all the trade and business deals. I don’t know much about the other two, but they’re Gale’s younger brother and sister: Brass Belle and Grace Belle.”
“We’ve got the pattern for our roamer, then,” Beryl said with assurance, “Brass Belle was the major of the police station where Regal Script was killed, and Grace Belle was at the party hosted by Dreamy Skies and Flicker Frost before they died. That carriage there is the one that almost hit me, and it’s owned by the Belles. Pewter Belle is sticking close to anything related to her family.”
“Whatever she’s doing, we need to burn her bones with hemlock,” Shadowmere grunted, “We can’t leave her here though; we’ll have to banish her back to her grave.”
Craning his head around, Shadowmere drew the sword on his back. Berry couldn’t believe what she saw as it slid out of its sheath. The blade was silver-edged with an iron core; she knew that guard looked familiar. The resemblance to the sword she’d seen painted in a book just the day before was uncanny.
“What are you doing with Eviscerator? ” Beryl asked, eyes wide and mouth hanging open.
“This is not Eviscerator ; this is its twin, Revenant ,” Shadowmere said firmly after he stabbed the point between the cobbles at their hooves so that he could speak more clearly, “The runes inscribed in the iron are in reverse. Eviscerator was made to dispel, Revenant to bind. One good connection with Pewter Belle, and she’ll be bound to her grave for the next few hours, more than long enough for us to burn her remains.”
A high-pitched wailing drifted through the air, drawing Shadowmere and Beryl’s attention back to where Pewter Belle hovered. The ghost had turned her attention from the carriage to the two ponies down the street. Shadowmere threw Revenant up into his mouth and Beryl pointed her crossbow at the specter as she slowly hovered nearer.
Berry recoiled in shock as the magical shield protecting her body shattered. From where she’d rolled, she could see Pewter Belle hovering behind where she’d been standing a moment earlier. As the ghost disintegrated, Beryl swung her head around to see that Pewter Belle was still advancing from the other direction. She recast the protective spell and cried out in warning as Pewter shimmered into existence next to Shadowmere. The ghost’s hoof struck his back, but instead of swinging through his body, it came to a stop and the specter recoiled. Pewter disappeared as the stallion swung Revenant around at her.
“She’s a duplicator as well,” Shadowmere warned with a deep frown, “We’re going to have to strike all of them.”
“Got it,” Beryl said as she fired her crossbow at the advancing ghost.
Pewter Belle collapsed into mist and the bolt passed her by harmlessly. The mist streaked through the air before reforming into the ghost less than a hoof’s-width from Beryl. The Ministry agent was already leaping backwards, another bolt loaded into her crossbow, which she quickly fired at the ghost. The iron quarrel sliced through Pewter’s reaching foreleg, causing it to vanish and the specter to hiss in anger.
Another Pewter Belle appeared behind Berry, but she was ready this time and spun around, not even bothering to load the next bolt as she jabbed it through the ghost’s eye. As she spun back around to face the other Pewter Belle, whose foreleg had regenerated, she caught a glimpse of Shadowmere battling another two ghosts, another appearing whenever his sword managed to connect with one and cause it to shrink in on itself. Can she produce copies forever? Beryl wondered. If she could, it was going to be a long night.
The Pewter that Beryl was facing lunged for her, but Beryl quickly conjured her sword of magic and sliced upward through the ghost, slicing her in two. The two halves separated and drifted apart slightly, before each grew back into a full version of Pewter. Beryl let her sword dissipate and grabbed at a pouch strapped to her uniform. The air was filled with salt as she flung it at the ghosts, causing them to vanish and giving her a quick breather.
As the ghosts reappeared on either side of her, Beryl grabbed at the falling salt with her magic and managed to compress it into a blade, before swinging it around and slicing both ghosts through their torsos. This time the halves didn’t reform, and the pieces disintegrated. The blade of salt disintegrated as well as Beryl released her magical hold on it, sweating from the effort it had taken to fashion and maintain it.
Specters were swarming around Shadowmere so thickly that it didn’t matter how he swung Revenant , it was sure to connect. Still, for every one he managed to strike, another just appeared to take its place. Beryl pulled a special bolt from her ammunition belt and slotted it into place in her crossbow before lining up the shot at the mass of ghosts.
“Shadowmere, get down!” she yelled before pulling the trigger.
The bolt shot swiftly through the air, the bulbous tip causing it to wobble only slightly. A blast of magic from Beryl’s horn struck it a second before it entered the crowd of Pewter Belles, and the bolt exploded. Slivers of iron spread out in a deadly cloud and sliced the ghosts to bits. The ghostly remains floated away into oblivion as Shadowmere pushed himself up from the ground, brushing the filings from his uniform.
Pewter Belle reappeared a few paces away, and she raised her forehooves into the air as she let out a ghastly wail. That wail quickly changed to an alarmed shriek of pain as the edges of her dress began to catch fire. Soon the ghost’s entire body was up in flames, the spectral body twisting around as it tried desperately to keep from being consumed. In a second it was over, and Pewter Belle no longer hovered before them.
“Somepony else burned her,” Beryl said flatly.
“Let’s hope they used hemlock and wolfsbane, otherwise it could prove very hard to kill her without being able to burn her remains again,” Shadowmere said as he sheathed Revenant .
“You know where she’s buried, right?” Beryl asked as she turned to face the stallion, sheathing her own weapon at the same time.
“The Belle mausoleum, where their mansion once stood in the Old Estate District,” he answered.
“We need to get there before whoever burned her bones leaves,” Beryl announced as she took off to the east.
***
Beryl took a deep breath before stepping out of the shadows and trotting up to the Belle mausoleum entrance. Through the gate and past scattered tombstones, she approached an all-too-familiar pony.
“Roaring Thunder, am I right in assuming you’ve just concluded burning the remains of Pewter Belle?”
“That’s right,” the stallion said proudly, before his expression shifted to one of puzzlement, “Did they accidently give us the same job again?”
“Looks that way,” Beryl said with a sigh, “Pewter Belle was a roamer and a duplicator. Please tell me you burned her remains with both hemlock and wolfsbane?”
“Hemlock, wolfsbane, horsedrake root, and holly too for good measure,” Roaring Thunder replied, “C’mon, when are you going to stop treating me like a rookie.”
“When you manage to genuinely impress me.”
“Pfft,” the pegasus snorted, “I know that’s a lie. There’s no way you haven’t been impressed by me already. Are you still sore about-”
“Yes!” Beryl cut him off, “And like always, I don’t care to speak about it. Now, if you would return to the Ministry, I have to check the grave.”
“To make sure I didn’t foul anything up?” Roaring Thunder asked as he crossed his forelegs, using his wings to keep him upright as he did so, “I assure you everything’s been taken care of.”
“That’s not it,” Beryl replied, though she wished that she really did have a legitimate reason to doubt he’d taken care of Pewter Belle’s remains properly, “I just need to check something.”
“Suit yourself,” Roaring Thunder said, rolling his eyes as he trotted away, “See you back at the Ministry.”
Beryl took a deep breath once the carefree agent had vanished. It had been four years, and nothing had changed. If anything, her disdain for the stallion had only gotten greater over time. Roaring Thunder was technically the same rank as Beryl now, but she would always think of him as her junior agent unless something dramatic managed to change her opinion. Fat chance of that , she snorted.
“Who was the agent you were speaking to?” Shadowmere asked, causing Beryl to nearly jump out of her skin in surprise that the voice came from right next to her.
“Where did you come from?” she asked.
“You’ve been standing here for some time, unmoving since that stallion left,” Shadowmere said, “So, who was he?”
“Roaring Thunder, another agent from the Ministry,” Berry said dismissively as she grabbed a torch and trotted down into the Belle family mausoleum.
“I couldn’t help but notice that things seem pretty icy between the two of you,” Shadowmere commented as he followed, “Did something happen?”
“Yes, but that’s all I’m willing to say,” Beryl said, trotting faster as she grew frustrated at the stallion’s questions.
“Perhaps one day you’d be willing to tell me,” he replied.
“Yes, and perhaps on that day you’ll also tell me how you founded the Ministry!” Beryl snapped as she spun around. He’d definitely flinched that time.
“I’m sorry; it’s a touchy subject for me,” Beryl apologized, “Let’s just examine Pewter Belle’s grave.”
They passed in silence to the lower level of the crypt, where a statue of a smiling Pewter Belle looked down on her stone sarcophagus. Roaring Thunder had replaced the lid, so they had to pry it off again to get a good look inside. Soot coated the inside of the casket, but strange runes could still be seen carved and painted around the edges. Each and every rune Beryl saw had been slashed through by a deep cut in the stone.
“Somepony nullified all my protective barriers,” Shadowmere grumbled, “It looks like it was done about a month ago.”
“When we were in Hoofington,” Beryl said.
“Exactly. I would have sensed the destruction of the sigils had I been in Canterlot at the time,” Shadowmere said, “I think we have a good idea who set Pewter Belle free.”
“Gargoyles, a tantibus, and now this?” Beryl said, “How many more monsters are going to be unleashed until we finally know who’s responsible?”
“I don’t know,” Shadowmere said, as he shook his head worriedly, “If there were any traces left by them when they destroyed the runes, they’re gone now, wiped out by the burning hemlock and wolfsbane.”
“In other words, we’re back to having no leads,” Berry said and Shadowmere nodded slowly, “Well, at least Regal Script, Flicker Frost, and Dreamy Skies’s killer won’t kill anymore.”
***
Pieces of the stallion were scattered and splattered all over the bedroom. Beryl felt she was going to be sick, and not just from the incredibly gory scene before her. For the second time she’d thought she’d solved the case, only to have to face another dead pony. How could this be? Was Pewter Belle not gone after all, or had she never been the creature responsible for these deaths? If she’d followed two false trails already, what was the chance she would do the same this time? These questions buzzed around inside Beryl’s head, irritating her.
She stepped out of the room and averted her eyes as she took a sip of coffee. Staying up so late was not being kind to her, and she already knew her sleep schedule for the next week was ruined. After examining the crypt, she’d gone straight home, but caught only two hours of sleep before she’d been awakened by an urgent report from the Ministry telling her to get over here as soon as possible.
The home the disaster had occurred in was quaint, and though a bit on the cheap side, was still nicer than the nearby tenements that dominated the eastern sections of Grey Warrens. The wife of the victim sat in the house’s living area, a blanket provided by the CPD draped around her for comfort. They had used a towel to wipe her husband’s blood off her as best they could, but Beryl couldn’t help noticing a few small pieces still stuck in her mane, though thankfully not where the mare could see them.
“It’s all my fault!” the mare yelled through her tears at the officer sitting on the couch next to her, trying to comfort the hysterical pony.
“No, you’re not responsible for this,” the officer told her firmly, though the widow shook her head in denial, “Listen, no pony could have done that to your husband.”
“You don’t understand; I am responsible for this. It’s my fault Sunny’s dead!” Crystal Well continued to sob as Berry took the officer’s place at the mare’s side.
“No. You didn’t kill him; it’s not your fault,” Beryl tried to get the point across, “I’m going to find what did, though, and I need your help. I need you to tell me exactly what happened before Sunny Days’s death.”
“It’s too horrible,” Crystal Well shook her head.
“I need you to try to tell me anyway, so I can stop this thing before any more ponies get hurt.”
“We… we were fighting, Sunny and I,” Crystal said, though it appeared to pain her greatly, “Fighting over something stupid . I can’t even remember what. Is that crazy? I was angry , so very angry, and I said things I didn’t mean. I… I even… I even said that I wished he was dead sometimes, even though I don’t! And then… then… he… he… exploded!”
“Did you notice anything else, anything out of the ordinary?” Beryl asked.
“You mean besides my husband exploding!” Crystal yelled.
“Yes, it could be important if I’m going to stop this from happening again,” Beryl tried to convey the importance, though the chances of logic getting through to a pony who’d just experienced what Crystal had were slim.
“The lights flickered, I guess,” Crystal Well sniffled, “But that hasn’t been unusual these past few weeks.”
“I promise I’ll get to the bottom of this,” Beryl vowed as she rose from the couch, “Nopony else is going to be killed.”
In truth, Beryl didn’t know whether she’d be able to keep such a promise, though she was determined not to rest until she’d resolved this case. The leads were as slim as ever, and she was worried she’d once again follow the wrong trail, so Beryl returned to the scene of Sunny Days’s death. Something had been different this time. There was a witness who thought she know how the victim had been killed, but were her words really responsible or was this just a grotesquely unfortunate coincidence? The same sense of unease that had plagued Beryl at the other crime scenes was back again, but now without the false trails of a basilisk or a ghost present, it was easier for her to focus in on it. She could sense something, or rather it was what she didn’t sense that gave it away. An emptiness seemed to hang in the air as if some being had occupied the room before leaving and taking all trace with it. The giveaway was that it had left nothing in its place but a magical vacuum. Faint as it was, it was something. Beryl decided to investigate Dreamy Skies and Flicker Frost’s apartment again to see if she could pick anything else up now that Pewter Belle’s essence was certain to have dissipated.
***
Sure enough, the unnatural emptiness was present there as well. Now that she knew what to search for, it was easy for Berry to track the lack of presence. The emptiness was most potent against the eastern wall of the apartment, not five paces from where the two residents had met their untimely ends. There was nothing remarkable about the wall; in fact, it was quite plain. Maybe there was some clue on the other side.
Beryl trotted out into the hallway and made her way over to the door of the neighboring apartment. Giving a sharp rap on the door, she waited for the pony within to respond. As she did, her mind began to wonder. If Crystal Well’s word had in some bizarre way led to the death of her husband, then who had said the words that had gotten the two ponies here killed? Had they also been in a fight and wished death on the other? Not likely.
Beryl knocked again and looked at the plaque outside the door. The apartment was home to a Ms. Basalt Grin, whose name sounded familiar to Berry. Shining Crescent had mentioned that Basalt Grin had come to the party the night before the attack to complain about the noise. Could she have said something that would explain the deaths? Beryl pulled the case file from the satchel at her side and flipped through it. Judging by the records, Basalt Grin hadn’t been interviewed or even talked to by the Ministry agents when they were here, which was not too unusual since it was official practice to notify as few ponies of the Ministry’s existence as possible. Still, they could have missed out on some important piece of information because of it.
“Basalt Grin, this is Agent Beryl Fields!” Berry announced as she knocked on the door again, more forcefully this time, “I need to speak with you. Please open the door!”
Beryl thought she heard something from inside the apartment, but it certainly wasn’t the sound of a pony coming to open the door. She conjured up her magic sword and sliced through the door’s lock before kicking it open. Beryl lowered her crossbow as she spotted Basalt Grin cowering on the other side of the room. The earth pony mare trying to become one with the wall had a gray coat befitting her name and a mane and tale colored a blue so dark it was nearly purple, both cropped short.
“Oh Celestia, you’ve come to take me away,” Basalt Grin said softly but frantically as she stared at Beryl was an expression of fear on her face. It occurred to Beryl as she looked at her that she may not have gotten any sleep the previous night either.
“Calm down. I’m not here to take you away. I just want to talk,” Beryl said as she put her crossbow away. It seemed safe enough to lower her guard; she was detecting nothing malicious coming from Basalt Grin or anywhere else in the apartment, though she did sense the emptiness emanating from the wall that bordered Dreamy Skies and Flicker Frost’s apartment.
“Talk, huh? And then what?” Basalt Grin asked as he eyes flicked around the room, always coming back to Beryl.
“That depends how the talk goes,” Berry said as she slowly made her way across the room toward the mare.
“Talk can be dangerous, don’t you know?” Basalt Grin said seriously, though she still seemed a bit jittery, “I didn’t; not until recently.”
“How about you tell me what happened,” Beryl said.
“Do you believe wishes can come true?” Basalt Grin asked, locking her gaze with Beryl’s.
Oh no. Beryl didn’t like the turn this conversation had taken. That is to say, she was disturbed by what Basalt Grin had said, but that didn’t mean she didn’t experience the feeling of triumph at the same time. There was a connection, perhaps one that could be key to this case. Crystal Well and now Basalt Grin had both mentioned wishes, and Beryl was almost unable to contain her anticipation for what else Basalt could tell her.
“What did you wish for?” Beryl asked.
“My gran, she always told me ‘Be careful what you wish for, because you just might get it,’” Basalt said, either ignoring the question or having not even heard it, “I always thought that was dumb. Why should you fear getting what you wish, because who would ever not want something they wished for? I understand now, though.”
“What did you wish for?” Beryl asked again, this time more forcefully.
“Does it really matter what I wished for?” Basalt Grin said, finally answering, “Because of it, two ponies are dead. That’s what matters.”
“You wished for Dreamy Skies and Flicker Frost to die,” Berry said, nodding her head to convey understanding.
“No!” Basalt Grin retorted, “I didn’t want them to die. All I asked was that I could have some peace and quiet, that there’d be no more parties.”
Beryl took a moment to get her thoughts together. These wishes, if they truly were involved in causing the death of ponies, which seemed more and more likely all the time, seemed to have few limits. Crystal Well had said precisely that she wished her husband would die, but Basalt Grin had said nothing about her neighbors’ deaths in her wish. Then again, Beryl now remembered that Crystal Well had only said she ‘sometimes wished’ which technically was not even a proper wish. It appeared these wishes had been pretty loosely interpreted to lead to killing ponies. What of Regal Script? Nopony had been nearby when he’d been killed, so had he uttered his own death wish? Not all that unlikely, come to think of it, considering that he’d just been saddled with a load of taxing paperwork. He’d probably just wanted to let out some steam and had instead signed his own death warrant.
If this truly was what was going on, it had frightening consequences. Were there any limits to these wishes besides that they could in some way be translated into a wish for death? All manner of curses or off-hoof comments could quickly become deadly, and all of Canterlot seemed to be under threat. It couldn’t be as expansive as that though, Beryl concluded, for there was some physical component to it as well. The empty magical signatures she had found were proof enough that the wish wouldn’t be carried out unless whatever had left them was present, and it couldn’t be everywhere at once.
“I got my wish though, didn’t I?” Basalt Grin asked as she hid her face behind her hooves, “But, by Celestia, the cost . Be careful what you wish for…”
***
After piecing things together, Beryl had decided that she would get nothing more from Basalt Grin’s apartment. Still, the mare was in no state to be left alone. She needed some serious therapy, and Beryl had taken her to the nearest CPD station, where she’d be safe until a Ministry representative came to retrieve her. Three ponies were dead, and three more were broken because of this monster. This had to stop immediately.
Obvious that whatever she was facing was too powerful or rare to be in the Ministry’s bestiary, Beryl headed directly to the Deep Archives where Boris once more ushered her into the retired documents section. She had very little to go on this time; not even names, so finding any information on this monster seemed next to impossible. To start, Berry headed to the records section and grabbed as many reports on attacks as she could carry, before sifting through them to find unusual and fantastical deaths. It was a mind-numbing task, but it had to be done, and it finally did bear some fruit.
Only in the oldest records, their yellowed pages five centuries or more old, was there any mention of ponies spontaneously exploding. The reports were brief, only a single line, and the cause listed was usually only one or two words. It wasn’t much, but eventually Beryl had it narrowed down to a list of causes. Five possibilities awaited Berry’s investigation: lupinworms, wxii, Namibian vampires, genies, and thought-forms. There were several other causes that had been blacked out, but Beryl didn’t know what to do if they were the true cause. She certainly couldn’t go asking Director Thistleback for level-2 access right now, so she desperately hoped the answer was already available to her.
One by one, Beryl researched the monsters in the short list she had found, and one by one eliminated them, drawing closer to a solution. There were a few books on lupinworms, though it took Beryl awhile to find them since they were filed in the werewolf section. Lupinworms, as she soon learned, were a bizarre species of parasite somehow related to lycanthropes. They would infest a host pony, eating them from the inside out and multiplying before bursting forth. Once they’d fed off a pony, they would then grow into werewolf-esque creatures whose skin would become infested with new lupinworms at the end of their life cycles that would then each seek out a new host. The fact that lupinworms in their larval state left no magical signature caught Beryl’s attention, but there were too many other inconsistencies for her to consider them a serious possibility. For example, though a full-grown lupinworm in its werewolf form could probably throw a carriage, it couldn’t under any circumstance turn invisible. Putting back the books, she moved on to the next possibility.
Wxii stumped her for a while, until she realized that it wasn’t a monster, but rather an abbreviation because of the limited space. It was hard to tell since everything for a few pages had been printed in all capital letters, but wxii was actually WXII, short for Witchcraft – Tier 12. Doing a little digging, Beryl found that witchcraft was simply the term for dark magic used at the time. Strangely, the rating system for whatever ponies had chosen to call it had not changed over time. To Beryl’s knowledge, there were only eight tiers of dark magic, but there were no records on tiers nine through eleven in the library, leading her to conclude that they had not been retired, but classified. Still, of all the tiers that Beryl knew, there was not one that didn’t leave an extremely potent magical trail, as well as a signature at the site the magic was targeting. She doubted things would change much as one moved up in that respect, so she placed that possibility to the side but kept it in mind just in case nothing else fit.
Namibian vampires were a frightening breed of the beasts Beryl had never heard of, and probably never would have had she not met Shadowmere or been granted access to the Deep Archives. Thankfully, only a Namibian vampire could infect a pony with the strain, and this sub breed was few and far between, hunted to extinction as far as the Ministry’s records were concerned. Once a pony was infected, instead of their body transforming into a vampiric one, the vampire grew within them before finally explosively bursting the flesh. Like dark magic, this transformation would leave a powerful magical trail, though, and those around the pony transforming would without a doubt notice signs months in advance. Crystal Well had also not mentioned anything bursting free of her husband when he exploded, so Beryl ruled out Namibian vampires and moved on.
On genies there was next to nothing in the Deep Archives. By a stroke of luck, she stumbled upon books describing djinn, an alternate name for the creatures. As she paged through the meager stack of books she’d compiled, she was filled with a sense of dread. Genies were creatures of nearly unlimited power that nopony seemed to truly understand. Contrary to tales, they were less likely to grant wishes and more likely to explode the pony who’d summoned them. That threw a stick in the spoke of Beryl’s mental wheels, but she kept reading to see what else she could find. It was difficult, since much of the information was either contradictory, mere speculation, or censored. She did learn that their preferred method of killing ponies was to tear them apart explosively, which was a count in favor of this theory. They couldn’t turn invisible, but their power was rumored to have an impressive reach, which could explain the carriage thrown at Beryl two days earlier. Where could a genie have been hiding though?
Like a flash of lighting, the answer struck Berry. Genies were said to be gaseous creatures, and what better place for such a creature than the new gas pipe system being put in throughout Canterlot. If she remembered correctly, every place that a pony had been killed had just recently had new gas pipes put in, including the street the carriage had been trundling down. It was beginning to look like she might have a winner, but the break from the pattern regarding wishes still bothered her. Beryl put the idea aside with dark magic in case she needed to come back to it later.
It didn’t take long for her to rule out thought-forms. There was only one entry in the records about an exploding pony due to a thought-form, and it was a very specific case. Thought-forms were a strange ethereal creature that was not quite a ghost, since it had never been a living pony. They drifted aimlessly, stealing thoughts from ponies’ minds and turning them into a reality. The only time a thought-form had caused a pony to explode was due to a nearby pony with a grudge and a very sadistic imagination. The literature was very clear: thought-forms could only create exactly what a pony had in their mind, and Beryl was sure none of the ponies who’d uttered wishes had literally meant what had come from their wishes.
After a whole day’s research, Beryl had narrowed down the possibilities from five to two, with different levels of doubt attached to each of them. She wasn’t really fully pleased with either of them, and there was also the issue that the true answer could be classified beyond her reach. She decided the best course of action now would be to take what she’d come up with to Shadowmere and see if he had any other suggestions. Perhaps in his library (which she had yet to see), there were even books that would clear up some of the difficulties with the remaining possibilities.
It was the middle of the night, or perhaps even a few hours past it, when Beryl trotted down the streets of Canterlot. She bemoaned not taking any coffee with her from the Ministry, for she desperately needed it now that a whole day had passed her by without rest. After a few raps with the knocker on the door to Rosethorn Hall, a caretaker in a nightgown opened it up for her. She frowned at Beryl as she trotted in, no doubt trying to convey her annoyance that Berry had woken her up at such a late hour, and perhaps had woken up some of the orphans as well with her knocking.
Beryl made her way down to Shadowmere’s quarters, whose doors once more opened easily before her. The immortal stallion was in the main room when she entered, sharpening and oiling Revenant . He sheathed the blade as she approached and told him what she had discovered. As he heard what she had to say, his expression grew more and more concerned.
“So, what do you think?” Beryl asked when she’d finished summarizing, “My best guess is a genie, but it doesn’t explain everything.”
“No, you’re right, but what you said reveals why you don’t believe so,” Shadowmere said, “The proper name for the creature you’re looking for is a djinn. What you’ve told me matches those desert spirits exactly , and the part about it using the gas pipes to get around was a spot-on deduction.”
“It’s the wishes that threw me off,” Beryl explained, “Djinn don’t really grant them, do they?”
“In a perverse way, yes. After all, those tales all came from somewhere,” Shadowmere replied, “A djinn is a creature of unimaginable power, able to realign reality itself. Some would even put them as equals to Draconequi, though such ponies are blissfully unaware just how much capacity for power a Draconequus truly has. For all their power, djinn have a weakness, a binding on their abilities that nopony knows the origin of. While in its weakest state, a djinn cannot directly kill a pony without the command of another pony. They take a very liberal view of exactly what constitutes a command, which is why you’ve seen the djinn killing only in response to some pony’s stated desire for something.”
“And the carriage that was thrown at me,” Beryl said, gaining a clearer picture of the past as Shadowmere explained, “The djinn wanted to stop my investigation, but couldn’t harm me directly, so it arranged an accident that could have killed me.”
“Just so,” Shadowmere said with a sharp nod.
“All right. How do we kill this djinn?”
“It’s impossible to kill a djinn,” Shadowmere said with a shake of his head as he rose from his chair, hanging Revenant over its back, “We can only hope to contain it.”
“So, what? We need a golden lamp?” Beryl asked, not entirely in jest.
“No, that’s something the tales got wrong. We need a pot made from the clay of the beast’s homeland imbued with spells while baked in a special kiln. I believe I still have a few around, though I hoped I’d never have to use them again,” Shadowmere said, “It’s a good thing you found it when you did, still in its weakened state. We still have a chance of capturing it without destroying the entire city in the process. Still, some urgency is required. Once a djinn kills nine ponies on command, the bindings are removed, and with a fast method of getting around, it might not take it long to reach that point.”
***
Beryl awoke to a gentle prodding of her shoulder by a hoof.
“The ritual’s nearly complete,” Shadowmere announced as he backed away.
After Beryl and Shadowmere had resolved to go after and capture the djinn, Shadowmere had begun preparations for a ritual that would lead them to the monster. It was complex and would take a long time to bear fruit, and though Beryl had wanted to see it through, she drifted off to sleep before it could be completed. Now, as she sat up on the couch in Shadowmere’s apartments, she got a good look at what the immortal stallion had built.
On a low table was a large and incredibly detailed map of Canterlot. Pins made of a strange reddish-gold metal were stuck in the map at the four points they knew for certain the djinn had been at. A hair from Shadowmere’s own tail was wrapped around the ends of each of these pins, forming a zig-zagging line that traced the djinn’s path. A circle was drawn in purple powder over the entire map, bizarre symbols traced with the same substance within it. At six equidistant points along the edge of the circle stood burning candles, the blue thread connecting them now covered in melted wax. Shadowmere had been busy while she’d been asleep.
“Ready?” Shadowmere asked.
Beryl nodded in reply, and Shadowmere plucked at the thread connecting the candles. The candles wobbled for a moment before falling inward as one and igniting the map. As the powder ignited, the flames burned a sorcerous blue and consumed the map unevenly. The regions the djinn had never been in were quickly burned up until the edge of the flame reached Sunset Borough’s CPD station. The pin there ignited, startling Beryl as it sent up a cloud of sparks. The end of the hair pulled free and drifted with the flames without catching on fire. Flames blazed till the pin where the carriage had nearly hit Beryl ignited, then the one at Dreamy Skies and Flicker Frost’s apartment, and finally Crystal Well and Sunny Days’s home. The map continued to burn in a southeastern direction, carrying the hair with it until only a small scrap remained unburnt and the flames died out. Shadowmere’s tail hair stretched out across the tabletop, tracing the djinn’s path from its last known location to its current one.
Both ponies leaned in close to get a better look at the scrap of map left, though it was unnecessary. The structure drawn on the parchment was recognizable to every pony in the city, but it seemed required of them to make sure they were not mistaken. It was impossible to claim they were after they’d read the text printed beneath the building’s outline: CANTERLOT CASTLE.
***
“Agent Beryl Fields; I need to enter the castle on Ministry business,” Beryl announced herself as she flashed her badge to the soldier posted next to the gleaming golden gate guarding the main entryway to Canterlot Castle.
It turned out that there had not been much night left when Beryl had arrived at Shadowmere’s, and after her rest and the ritual, it was now mid-morning. She hadn’t received any word from the Ministry alerting her of more deaths, so she was grateful for that. Still, the djinn could strike at any moment in the castle and kill any number of servants or nobles that happened to be around.
“Of course, agent,” the soldier said, standing rigidly at attention, “You’ll need to enter through the back way, though. I’ve orders not to let anypony through the front gate today for any reason.”
“Why is that?” Beryl asked. The Ministry was supposed to have unlimited access and power, but Princess Celestia was the technical head of the organization, which meant she alone could set a rule that barred the Ministry from doing something. She had rarely done so though, and never without a good reason.
“The League of Nations is gathered today in the castle,” the guard replied, and Beryl noticed for the first time all the strange carriages parked within the grounds leading up to the palace, armed guards patrolling around them, “Celestia does not wish to raise alarm among our international cohorts.”
“Thank you; you’ve been most helpful,” Beryl addressed the guard, “If it’s no trouble, I have one more question for you.”
“What is it, Agent Fields?” the guard asked, still standing at full attention.
“The gas system being added to the castle; do you know how much has progressed?”
“Only in the West Wing, ma’am. Celestia wanted it completed before the League’s visit so as not to seem out of date,” the guard answered, “Is the gas system somehow important?”
“Best you forget about it,” Beryl cautioned him before trotting away.
The League of Nations was an organization Celestia had put together just a few years earlier in the hope that all countries on Equus could meet to overcome their problems through diplomacy rather than war. All pony nations had signed the charter, though many had no love for Equestria and had joined simply to be able to sit at a table with Celestia wielding theoretically equal power. While the League was in session, the most powerful ponies in the world were gathered together and tension filled the air. If the djinn were to strike now, it could have disastrous consequences for Equus as a whole.
After flashing her badge to the guard at the back gate, Beryl was let through into the castle grounds. Before she left him, she asked the guard for directions to his commanding officer. It turned out that Captain Ironsides of the Royal Guard was not present on the castle grounds today, but he had left his lieutenant in charge. Beryl galloped as quickly as she could through the royal gardens and into the castle proper, searching for the officer.
She spotted the pony pacing outside of the large, locked doors to the room where the League of Nations was meeting. Beryl wasn’t as intimately familiar with the Royal Guard’s command structure as she was with that of the Ministry, but she was certain that he was young for a lieutenant, only a few years out of officer training at the most. His blue dress uniform accented with silver nicely complimented his snow-white coat and striped blue mane not cut to regulation length.
“Lieutenant Shining Armor,” Beryl addressed the young officer, “I need to speak with you alone.”
Shining Armor glanced at the two other Royal Guards standing at their posts to either side of the doors before trotting up to Berry. He looked nervous, clearly uncomfortable being in command. Was this the first time the captain had left him in charge of the Royal Guard? This piece of information could either make Beryl’s job much easier or much harder, depending on whether Shining Armor’s jitters drove him to stubbornness or submissiveness.
“I’m Agent Beryl Fields of the Ministry,” Beryl introduced herself once they were out of earshot of the guards at the door, “Are you familiar with the Ministry?”
“Yes. That is to say, I know who you are and what you do,” Shining Armor answered, his speech conveying uncertainty, “If you’re here, that can’t mean anything good, can it?”
“I’m afraid not,” Beryl said, shaking her head, “The West Wing needs to be evacuated immediately . Everypony here is in grave danger.”
“The League of Nations is meeting. I can’t just order them to all leave,” Shining Armor protested as the blood drained from his face, “I could cause an international incident.”
“It could cause a worse incident if one of the diplomats dies,” Beryl said tonelessly.
“Of course. Right,” Shining Armor said, his eyes widening, “I-I’ll let Celestia know personally.”
As the stallion took off toward a side door, to enter the League of Nations without causing an uproar, Beryl slipped off into an alcove. A few minutes later, the doors at the end of the hall swung slowly open and ponies trotted out in a procession. They came in small groups, their appearances setting them apart as coming from different nations. With each group trotted a standard-bearer, holding the nation’s flag high.
“Quite a procession,” Shadowmere commented from next to Beryl.
“Where did you come from?” Beryl asked in surprise. The last time she’d seen him was when she had approached the guard at the front gate. She assumed he’d found his own way into the castle, but wasn’t sure how, or how he had snuck up on her where she was.
“I was with you the whole time,” the stallion said as he watched the annoyed diplomats filing past, “Before we reached the castle, I cast a spell that would make anypony who saw me forget as soon as they looked away.”
Together Shadowmere and Beryl watched the procession, the gears in Beryl’s mind turning all the while.
“Shadowmere, djinn are native to Saddle Arabia, right?” she asked.
“Correct.”
“And to your knowledge, up until now, there were no djinn left in Equestria.”
“Also correct.”
“So, is it possible the Saddle Arabians brought it with them?” Beryl asked as she watched the Saddle Arabian delegation pass by. They seemed to all be wearing a permanent sneer on their muzzles, and kept looking with contempt at the delegates from Roan ahead of them.
“Possible, yes, but a connection like that’s not enough to convict, much less suspect,” Shadowmere said.
“An interesting possibility, though, isn’t it?” Beryl said, “The Saddle Arabians are itching for war, looking for any excuse. A death at the League of Nations would only prove it to be a trap engineered by Celestia, as they’ve cautioned ever since its inception. The djinn arriving here happens to suit their agenda perfectly.”
“I wouldn’t accuse the Saddle Arabians until we hear a confession from the djinn’s own mouth,” Shadowmere said with iron in his voice, “Come, now that everypony’s left, we should begin our search.”
They investigated the League of Nations meeting room first, but could find no trace of the djinn. They couldn’t, of course, track it by a magical signature, but Shadowmere had at some point in his extremely long life acquired a bell that would chime when a djinn was near. The bell was silent as they searched the room and remained silent as they trotted through the empty West Wing. Beryl was beginning to think that the djinn wasn’t in the castle anymore.
“An el nomine ai mi maestro Sithis, Ei provi de, djinn!” Shadowmere called out without warning.
No more than a few seconds later, the bell chimed for the first time. It began to ring more urgently as the gas lamps on the walls started to flicker. A table slid unexpectedly from the wall toward Berry. She jumped out of its way, landing as it smashed against the opposite wall of the hallway. She moved aside again as ceremonial swords hanging on the wall slipped free of their racks and plummeted toward her.
Before anything else could be thrown at her, Beryl cast a protective spell encasing her body to serve as a safety net. Next, she pulled a piece of chalk from her uniform pocket and swiftly drew a rune on the tiles of the floor as Shadowmere had taught her. Quickly, she drew two similar runes on either side of it, creating a supernatural barrier in the hallway that the djinn couldn’t cross.
As Shadowmere dodged the flying furniture now streaking down the hall with alarming frequency, he burned a set of runes into the wall before striking them with his hoof. Flames burst from the gas lamps up and down the hall from him as sorcerous fire spread through the gas pipes. A high-pitched warbling Beryl could only guess was a djinn’s scream cut through the air as the flames reached the wall where the hall split. From it a painting of Celestia in a heroic pose flew toward Beryl and Shadowmere, the edge of the elaborate golden frame nearly slicing their heads off.
They both rose from the floor as the djinn showed itself. A cloud of roiling bluish-gray smoke billowed from the gas lamp next to where Celestia’s portrait had once hung as the djinn tried to escape the fire. Bits of flame trailed here and there from its gaseous body, but any damage was quickly repaired by flashes of reddish-purple lightning from within. No truly distinguishing features could be identified on the djinn, though at times the cloud seemed inclined to form a hoof or a claw only to return to a chaotic state. Three bright yellow lights shone from deep within, and they swung to focus on Berry and Shadowmere before the djinn turned and fled down the hall to the left.
“Split up and make more barriers!” Shadowmere yelled before he took off after the djinn, vaulting over the ruined furniture and wall hangings lining the corridor.
Beryl took off after him, but dodged the opposite way when the passage split. Mentally, she tried to picture the layout of the West Wing and followed a path that would allow her to cut the djinn off from the rest of the castle. Every so far she would pause to trace another runic barrier on the floor. At times, she would hear clashes coming from elsewhere in the building as Shadowmere and the djinn met. So far, he had managed to turn it back from escaping every time, but that was about all that was accomplished.
Confident that she had placed enough barriers to keep the djinn from escaping the West Wing, Beryl began to slowly advance inward, seeking the monster out. Her crossbow remained strapped on her back; no quarrel would do much good against a djinn. A bandolier wrapped around her held four magicaelcum grenades, and she kept her magic ready to grab one and pull the pin in case the djinn came in sight.
It was only because she was using her magic that she felt an overwhelming pressure suddenly assailing her. Attuning her magic to make it bearable to track the origin of the pressure, she was led to a door just up the hall. From all outward appearances, the door was nothing special, except that the wood it was made of looked to have been there for an eternity. Further magical inspection (that caused Beryl’s eyes to water) revealed that the door was covered in magical wards of a type Berry had only seen in one other place. The wards were just as powerful and extensive, if not more so, as those guarding Shadowmere’s chambers. These felt distinctly different, though. While Shadowmere’s wards exuded coolness and dormant threat, the wards here seemed malicious, as if the power within them was champing at the bit to be freed and destroy.
What was something like this doing in Canterlot Castle? Every door in the castle had a plaque hanging above it to assist with navigation, and Beryl checked this door’s to see what it might say. “ Private rooms of Malthus, Advisor Imperium” the plaque read. She remembered seeing Malthus in the Royal Court, and something had definitely seemed “off” about him. Did Celestia know what her closest advisor was involved in? Just how had a pony like this manage to slip beneath the Ministry’s notice? Then again, Shadowmere had managed to do the same thing for centuries, so perhaps it wasn’t that uncommon of an occurrence. What a frightening thought!
Doors burst open down the corridor, and the djinn billowed out and toward Berry. She reached for a grenade only to be pummeled by the nearby wards, and she galloped toward the djinn, away from Malthus’s quarters, before launching the bomb at the monster. Tendrils of lightning reached from the djinn as the grenade neared, and it exploded. Shards of dull blue metal and slivers of bright blue crystal hit the djinn in a deadly cloud. Shreds of gas were torn from the djinn, and a blinding wave of lightning pulsated over its body as it screamed and fled down the corridor in the opposite direction.
Shadowmere dropped to the ground as the djinn flew over him, angling Daybreak so that it sliced through the monster’s underside. Surprisingly, the blade had a purple blood-like substance on it after the djinn had passed. Beryl noted this as she joined Shadowmere in galloping after the djinn, filing away everything she saw. The djinn’s path twisted and turned through the halls of the West Wing as it was forced to turn aside upon reaching the barriers the ponies had left. Beryl’s spirits rose as she realized where the djinn was headed.
As they turned one last corner, she hurried to scratch a barrier on the floor at their hooves. The djinn was now trapped; the corridor it had gone down ended in a dead end where a large painting of the charge of the Royal Greys in Equestria’s war on the Neighpoleonic Empire was mounted. In front of the painting, the djinn roiled, turning this way and that as it searched for a way out. At last it stopped, and turned slowly to face Beryl and Shadowmere where they stood less than twenty paces away. The yellow lights within the djinn shone brighter as they moved out from the center, and became eyes in the monstrous face congealing on the surface. The djinn’s head looked a bit like that of a bulldog from the Grittish Isles, but with the scaly flaps of ears belonging to a dragon. As it opened its mouth slightly, Beryl could see that it had two rows of teeth, the outer set that of a pony and the inner set a row of needles. The tongue was triangular, and the end was split like a snake’s, both halves moving separately as it stuck the tongue slightly out of its mouth.
Beryl pulled the pin of another magical grenade and threw it at the djiin. In such close quarters, it was impossible for it to dodge, and the splinters of metal and crystal sliced through its gaseous body. As lightning crackled over it, a many-jointed arm ending in a six-fingered hand sprouted from the djinn’s sides and reached up. Cracks spread through the plaster of the ceiling and the decorative chandeliers shook alarmingly. One crashed to the floor, sending metal and glass everywhere, landing where Beryl had been standing a moment earlier. She was now ten paces from the djinn, frantically scrawling runes on the floor as Shadowmere shielded her from the showering plaster with his duster.
“Daybreak, to me!” Shadowmere yelled as the djinn ceased its shaking of the hall momentarily.
The blade burst back into being from thin air, and Shadowmere caught it with his forehooves instead of his mouth. He swung the greatsword up and rested it on his shoulder as he trotted forward, over the barrier Berry had just finished forming. He set down the pack he’d been carrying on his back gently next to Beryl before trotting on and coming to a stop halfway between her and the djinn. He looked with concern at the cracks in the windows to either side of the djinn before looking the monster’s eyes.
“An el nomine ai mi maestro Sithis, Ei provi de, djinn!” Shadowmere announced again before swinging Daybreak’s handle into his mouth.
“What are you doing?” Beryl asked.
“Challenging it to a duel,” the stallion replied swiftly, not taking his eyes from the djinn, “Continue with the plan.”
The immortal pony and immortal spirit remained still for what seemed like an eternity, staring into each other’s eyes, sizing each other up. When they finally moved, it was so swift that no pony’s eye could have hoped to comprehend it. Daybreak flashed and lighting crackled as Shadowmere and the djinn spun around each other, swinging, parrying, dodging, and counterattacking. The gas pipes in the walls were torn free, a hail of plaster striking Shadowmere’s back and warning him of the oncoming metal. He mumbled incantations and swung his hooves to make symbols in the air, heating the pipes with sorcerous fire before thrusting them into the djinn. The djinn replied by snapping the pipes into pieces and shooting them back at Shadowmere. His hood had flown back and away from his head during the fight, and one of the pipe fragments managed to catch his mane on fire. Daybreak left his mouth and danced around his forelegs as he directed it in a spinning arc around his head, cutting the flaming hair free. So that the djinn could not take advantage of his distraction, he pulled a magicaelcum grenade from his bandolier and tossed it at the monster.
The djinn reeled and soared up as high as possible before plummeting down at Shadowmere. As he jumped to the side, he left a second grenade on the floor for the djinn to find. The bomb tore the djinn to pieces, but it swiftly reformed in a storm of crackling lightning and launched itself at Shadowmere, six arms protruding from its gaseous body. He jumped away at the last moment, as a claw scratched against the edge of his duster but found no purchase. The djinn crashed into the corner Shadowmere had been standing in, and was engulfed in a wall of green energy as it touched the rune-bearing cards Shadowmere had pinned to the wall. Billowing up and letting out howls of anger that caused the cracks in the windows, walls, and ceiling to become more alarming, the djinn spun on Shadowmere and flew in a rage at him, its mouth fully open and its eyes blazing like bonfires.
“Now, Berry!” Shadowmere yelled as he jumped aside and rolled into a ball.
With a spare bolt, Berry scratched a groove in the floor across the runes she’d made a few minutes earlier. The magical barrier ceased to exist and the djinn sailed across it after Shadowmere. Its gaseous body suddenly met an invisible wall on all sides and billowed upward. The windows shattered as it wailed in realization of what had befallen it. On the floor beneath it, Berry had drawn a magic binding circle in chalk while Shadowmere had fought the djinn. At a nod from Shadowmere, she opened the pack next to her and placed the antique pot within in the center of the circle.
Shadowmere began to recite words in a language Beryl had no knowledge of. As he did so, the djinn struggled to break free, wailing as the effort proved futile. A yellow light began to shine from the small opening of the pot, and ethereal chains snaked out and upward from it. The circle of ceiling above the djinn crashed in, but the chains knocked the falling beams and floorboards aside, protecting the pot. The djinn tried to flee upwards, but the chains sunk deep into its body and latched onto something, dragging it down writhing and screaming. Once the djinn’s body touched the pot, it was only a moment before it was entirely contained within. Heating some wax with magic, Shadowmere placed a seal over the opening and carved a rune into it with one of his throwing blades.
“So, what now?” Beryl asked, looking at the ruined corridor around them.
“I’ll take the djinn back to Rosethorn Hall, where it can be safely contained,” Shadowmere said as he carefully placed the pot back in the pack it had come from, “Once it’s been weakened enough, I’ll ask it some questions, but it will likely be months before that’s possible.”
“What can I do?”
“For now? I’m afraid the Black Briar can’t be seen,” Shadowmere said as he looked at the devastation around them, before turning to look Berry in the eye, “So I guess it’s up to you to explain this mess to Celestia.”
His words had been stated so tonelessly, but Berry swore she saw a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth at the end.
***
“A phantom?” Siren’s Song asked as he glanced at the report on his desk.
“That’s right,” Beryl answered, standing at attention before the Deputy Director, “I suspect it to have once been a necromancer of the Tail’renn Cabal, one of the ones we were never able to identify.”
“The Ministry’s raid on the Tail’renn Cabal was nine hundred years ago,” Siren’s Song said as he looked up from the report, “Why would one of their phantoms choose to appear now?”
“It may be linked to Pewter Belle’s reawakening,” Beryl replied, and Siren’s Song arched an eyebrow, “The Tail’renn Cabal was ultimately tracked down and eliminated thanks to their betrayal at the hooves of Ludovic Belle, a member of their circle who came to Celestia with inside information. Pewter Belle was his descendent, and her black magic knowledge all came from books looted by Ludovic in his betrayal.”
“Well, I see you’ve done your research,” Siren’s Song said as he crossed his hooves over her report, “Do you think Pewter Belle’s reawakening could trigger the rise of other members of the Cabal?”
“It’s a possibility I wouldn’t discount,” Beryl stated.
“Good work,” the Deputy Director commended her, “I apologize for giving you a case that turned out to be more high-profile than we’d thought, but you proved yourself splendidly. I’ll try to make sure you get some cases that really will keep Director Thistelback’s attention off of you in the near future.”
“Thank you, sir,” Beryl said as she gave a slight bow, “But, may I be allowed a question?”
“Fire away.”
“Ponies exploding, that’s only happened in extreme cases in the past, and very rarely,” Beryl said, “You knew it wasn’t going to be an ordinary, low-profile case, didn’t you?”
“That’ll be all for today, Beryl. Go home; get some sleep. You earned it,” Siren’s Song said as he smiled sideways at her.
***
“A promotion?!” the lieutenant asked incredulously.
“That’s right,” Celestia said, “So, what do you say?”
Shining Armor looked around Canterlot Castle’s throne room nervously. As a colt, he’d always dreamed about this day, but now that it was staring him in the muzzle, he wasn’t ready. Or, maybe he just thought he wasn’t ready. After all, his trainers in officer school had praised him for his skills, and not just because he was the brother of Celestia’s protégé (if anything, they had tempered their praise because of it). He’d also shot through the officer ranks of the Royal Guard and made lieutenant in under two years, a feat few before him had accomplished. Still, he was younger than every other officer in the Guard. It was just too soon!
“It’s so sudden,” Shining Armor said, stalling for time, “Why now?”
“Well, two reasons really,” the Princess said, tilting her head to the side as she did so, “Captain Ironsides, though a good officer, is getting a bit old for his post, and his tactics are a bit… oh… old-fashioned. It’s time for somepony new to take his place.”
“And you think that somepony ought to be me?” Shining Armor asked.
“Well, I wasn’t certain until earlier at the League of Nations summit,” Celestia admitted, “Your decisive action and cool-headedness under pressure certainly kept things in order, and quite possibly saved the lives of many diplomats, not to mention the threat of an international incident. I said there was a second reason, didn’t I? It’s that you convinced me on that day that you were ready for command.”
“I don’t know what to say,” Shining Armor admitted, though the more he thought about it, the more he felt that he was ready for the position.
“If it makes you feel that you’re pushing Captain Ironsides out, we’ll wait until the new year to announce your promotion. Ironsides will be celebrating his twentieth year as Captain of the Royal Guard, so it will be the perfect opportunity to push for his retirement,” Celestia explained.
“Yes. That is, I accept,” Shining Armor said, trying to remain eloquent as he bowed before the Princess, “Thank you, your Grace.” Just wait until Twily and Cadence hear the news!
***
Shadowmere closely examined the ornate djinn-containing pot sitting on the shelf before him. He touched his hooves to the service and opened up his abilities, but felt nothing in response. With a swipe, he threw the pot to the ground and it shattered into shards of pottery. Absolutely nothing was within it.
Djinn were creatures whose being was difficult to understand for most ponies, but Shadowmere wasn’t like most ponies. He could tell that each djinn was unique, and though their forms tended to shift erratically, they always had some unique feature one could use to identify them. The djinn that had been killing Canterlot citizens for the last few days was the very same one he’d captured seven and a half centuries earlier outside the trading post that would later become Griffonstone. This revelation was deeply disturbing; it meant that somepony had managed to infiltrate his hideout without his knowledge, most likely taking advantage of the time he was in Hoofington.
This knowledge just raised questions. How had somepony managed to get past his wards and locks? Were they connected to the gargoyles, the tantibus, and Pewter Belle’s ghost? Perhaps, most importantly, was the djinn the only thing they had taken or disturbed?
Shadowmere looked around at the shelves stretching in every direction piled high with magical lockboxes, globes, jars, pots, and other supernatural prisons containing beasts even more fearsome that the djinn. It was going to be a long night.
The stallion’s breath misted in the air as he trotted down the abandoned road. He really should have just taken the train to Canterlot, but was too stubborn. It was tradition to hike the trip to the city every winter, and he wasn’t going to let anything stop him from following that tradition. Inclement weather had delayed him, and with nowhere to camp when dusk fell, he’d been forced to trudge on ahead in the darkness. Now it was nearly midnight, and he was still traversing a path that straddled a cliff edge.
He picked up the pace as he spotted a flickering light ahead that indicated a campfire. The sheer wall to his right moved back from the edge and gave way to a small patch of grass and trees. Among the trees, a group of ponies with three wagons had made camp. A few were seated around the fire, but most were still involved in setting up the campsite. On the far side of the fire was a large figure covered in a cloak with a hood, and it beckoned for the stallion to come nearer as he approached.
“Hello there, traveler,” the figure greeted him with a silky stallion’s voice with an accent he couldn’t place, “What brings you out on the road to Canterlot so late at night?”
“I’m on the way to city to visit my family for the holidays. The snow threw a bit of a kink into my plans, though,” the stallion explained, “I hope it’s not too forward of me, but would it be alright if I camped with your group tonight and shared your fire? I’m too beat to start one myself.”
“But of course!” the strange stallion crooned, “Please, take a seat.”
“I’m Snapdragon Whip,” the traveler introduced himself as he sat down on a log across the fire from the pony he was talking to, “My friends call me Snappy.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Snappy,” the hooded figure said as he gave a slight bow, “You may call me Grigore.”
“Oh, are you a griffin?” Snappy asked as he set his heavy saddlebags down beside himself.
“No, I have hooves just like you,” Grigore said, “Ioan, Mihaela, get our guest some soup. I’m sure you’re famished.”
“To be honest, I am,” Snappy replied as the two ponies other than Grigore at the fire trotted away to get him food.
“We don’t have much, but what we have we will share,” Grigore said, “A band of travelling performers doesn’t make much money, as you can imagine, though we have plenty of tales to tell. Would you like to hear one?”
“That actually sounds quite pleasant, thank you,” Snappy replied.
“Well, then. Our tale begins long ago, in a land far from here, when a seven-headed dragon held a kingdom in a grip of terror. There are many versions to this tale, but on this night you shall hear the true one …”
Grigore went on, weaving the story as only a true wordsmith could, and soon Snappy was enraptured in the saga. It was a tale of hardship and tough choices, but also of triumph, and it was filled with interesting characters for one to root for or against. Ioan or Mihaela brought Snappy some bean soup at one point, but he barely touched it, he was so involved in Grigore’s story.
“…in the end, the beast was slain and the kingdom restored, but the slayer received no credit for his acts. It would be unseemly to say that a nearly-silent stranger wearing a cloak and strange armor had killed the beast; instead, tales spread that the king’s youngest son had been the one to perform the deed. So it is with many epics of this land, that the hero disappears and another stands in his place, claiming the fame. One may wonder why this black stallion of the legends never speaks up to claim his deeds. Perhaps he prefers the shadows, but now we shall never know, for he is surely long dead,” Grigore concluded the tale.
Snappy said nothing as he stared straight ahead, his eyes glazed over.
“Well now, that was easier than I expected,” Grigore said as he reached up with legs strangely thin for the size of his body and pulled his hood back.
The head that appeared was monstrous; it resembled a pony’s if it had been elongated, but in no other way. The ears were floppy like a donkey’s, and horns curved down over them from the top of Grigore’s head. The creature unhinged his jaw, revealing several rows of teeth, and inhaled deeply. If somepony attuned to magic had been nearby, they might have seen the thin wisps that trailed from Snappy’s body to Grigore’s mouth, but there was nopony there at the moment to witness the monster consuming the pony’s soul. Snappy twitched slightly, then slumped over when the process was complete.
“Well, that ought to tide me over until we get to Canterlot,” Grigore said as he moved his jaw back into place, “The rest of you, eat up while he’s still warm.”
The other ponies in the camp trotted out of the shadows, their eyes glowing as they approached Snappy’s lifeless body. Their cheeks tore to accommodate extra-wide grins filled with sharp, pointed teeth. As one, they fell upon the corpse, and the sound of tearing flesh and snapping bones soon filled the night. The creature calling itself Grigore sat back and closed his eyes as he listened, and thought about the feast soon to be had in Equestria’s capital.
Darkest Shadows
***
“I know you’re here!” Beryl shouted into the shadowy room, “You can’t hide, and you can’t escape either!”
The room Beryl was trotting through was one of the suites at the top of Manehattan’s many skyscrapers, but it looked more like an ancient cathedral. Several floors had been knocked out to make room for soaring stone columns, and the windows were in the process of being swapped out for stained glass. Candlesticks stood around the room, providing just enough light to cast shadows in all directions. The pony living here seemed to have an obsession with the past; it was understandable, since he was over three hundred years old.
“We’ve killed all your thralls and servants, there’s no more hope for you!” Beryl called, keeping her crossbow ready as she scanned the many hiding places in the room, “Come out and finish this already, vampire lord!”
At the sound of claws scraping on stone, Beryl spun and fired her crossbow. The bolt struck the wall and glowing blue sparks exploded from it, lighting up the corner and revealing the vampire lord as it flapped away from the light. The creature that had once been a pony circled around a column as Beryl reloaded her weapon. As it emerged from the darkness, plummeting toward her, she fired. The wooden stake struck true in the vampire’s heart, and it fell to the floor with a thump.
The vampire lord was like any other vampire, but more powerful. Extra talons on this one’s wings, the shape of its eyes, and its elongated fangs spoke to its power. Another feature, this one particularly troubling to the Ministry, was that powerful vampire lords often attracted other lesser vampires to follow them, and built up a kingdom of organized bloodsuckers. An increase in vampire attacks in Manehattan had led the Ministry to conclude that a vampire lord had set himself up somewhere in the city, and the search for that monster had led Beryl here.
She trotted up to the beast, who was still moving, though blood oozed from the wound in its chest. Beryl jumped to the side as it snapped its head up and spat blood at her that would have done serious damage. Drawing a silver blade, the Ministry agent closed the distance with the vampire lord and sliced its head off. As the body started to crumble and decompose, Beryl trotted away. Another job completed, she could return to Canterlot.
***
Snow fell upon the morning train as it chugged up the tracks to Canterlot, but Beryl was nice and cozy in a heated compartment as she read an early copy of the Manehattan Times . The headline for today read “Sixty dead after gas leak in Manehattan theater!”, which was a tragedy, but at least there was no news about vampire attacks. The Manehattan branch of the Ministry’s Information Containment Bureau was doing its job.
The head of the Ministry’s Manehattan branch office had thanked Beryl personally for leading the investigation of their vampire problem before seeing her off at the train station. It was odd that a Canterlot agent without Inspector status had been sent to Manehattan, but Beryl assumed it was a sign of faith in her from the Ministry’s leadership. Several changes had happened recently that she wasn’t going to complain about, among them being a raise in pay. Things had really taken off for Agent Beryl Fields since she’d met Shadowmere less than half a year ago. Her time studying with the stallion had really paid off as she began to be noticed at the Ministry again. More important and high-profile cases kept coming her way, which had kept her busy since the djinn’s attack.
Speaking of the djinn, there was still no new information on that front. Whoever had begun the chain of events that caused Beryl and Shadowmere to meet had yet to reveal themselves. In a way, it was frustrating that they had no way to track down those behind the monster attacks, but it was also fortunate that no other big monster attacks had come since the djinn. She didn’t know what she preferred: frequent life-or-death scenarios, or the threat of them constantly looming. Neither was a good choice.
Beryl folded her paper as the train pulled into Canterlot Central Station, and disembarked with the rest of the passengers. Many of them carried parcels and suitcases, only in town for the holidays. As they waited for the rest of their luggage to be unloaded, Beryl brushed past them and made her way down the icy streets of Canterlot until she reached the Ministry.
“Nice work on taking out that vampire lord and his entire circle. That should give the bloodsuckers in the area pause for a few decades,” Siren’s Song commented as he looked through the report Beryl had written up on the train, “Very good, indeed. I’d insist on you taking this vacation even if it wasn’t your year.”
“Thank you, sir,” Beryl replied, “Am I … free to go, then?”
“Indeed,” the deputy director said with a smile and a nod, “Do you have plans? Maybe attending the pageant? I heard Celestia herself might attend this year.”
“Are you kidding? Those tickets have been sold out for weeks,” Beryl answered.
“Fair enough; just staying at home then, I take it,” Siren’s Song said, “Try to get some rest.”
“Thank you,” Beryl said as she left his office.
She had already cleaned up her own office and put everything away, so there was nothing stopping Berry from leaving the Ministry. She passed several groups of ponies knotted together, talking about their Hearth’s Warming Eve plans, as she headed for the exit. In the entry hall, everything was business as usual, except for the Hearth’s Warming Tree erected beneath the status boards, whose alarming numbers were overshadowed by the decorations.
“Hey Berry, off for Hearth’s Warming leave?” Roaring Thunder asked as he flapped down and landed next to her.
“That’s right. The one week of the year I don’t have to see your face,” Beryl retorted, half kidding.
“Oh, you joker,” the stallion said as he trotted next to her, “Well, my turn was last year, so I have to work this week. You enjoy yourself, though, and happy Hearth’s Warming!”
“Happy Hearth’s Warming,” Beryl responded as Roaring Thunder flew off toward another group of agents. It was hard to be too resentful around Hearth’s Warming Eve.
Once she was outside the Ministry, she was officially a civilian for a full week. She loved the work she did at the Ministry, but she was still glad to have some time off. Upon reflection, the training she would be doing during her break might not have been considered taking time off, but she was free to do what she wanted during this week, and who said she couldn’t at least spend some time learning how to be a better agent?
First, she headed back to her apartment and dropped off her uniform and equipment. As she pulled on a coat and boots and threw her saddlebags over her back, she considered that if she was going to visit Shadowmere it might be prudent to have a weapon handy. She slipped the crossbow into her saddlebags, along with a few quarrels just in case.
The orphans of Rosethorn Hall were outside building snow-ponies when Beryl arrived, and they greeted her by throwing snowballs her way. They were easily deflected with her magic, but she let a few hit the unexposed areas of her body anyway. Once inside the manor house, Berry quickly made her way down to the basement and into Shadowmere’s quarters. After taking off her winter clothing, she joined the immortal stallion where he was seated in the sitting area.
“Another one finished,” the mare announced as she took the book 1008 Creatures of Romanean Folklore out her saddlebags and passed it to Shadowmere, “Are all those fairy tale monsters real?”
“Most of them,” he answered, “At least, they were real. Many of them are now believed to be extinct.”
“After what we’ve encountered, I wouldn’t count on it,” Berry opinioned.
“Indeed,” Shadowmere harrumphed, “Always know what you’re up against, even if naysayers tell you it’s pointless because what you’re up against doesn’t exist.”
Silence stretched on for a few seconds as the two ponies sitting across from each other didn’t know what else to say.
“Have you found out anything new about the djinn?” Berry finally broke the silence.
“Come with me,” Shadowmere said as he rose from his seat and set 1008 Creatures of Romanean Folklore on the table.
Puzzled, Berry got up and followed him. Up to this point, the only rooms of Shadowmere’s hideout she had seen were the sitting room and the passage to the outside. The door Shadowmere led her through was not the one that led out; rather, it led to a long hallway with unevenly spaced doors on either side. The passage curved slightly to the left, until it suddenly turned right at a 90-degree angle. At the end was an iron door reinforced with several other metals, and Shadowmere unlocked it and stepped through. On the other side was a wide room with shelves that ran off into the distance, all stacked with strange chests and containers.
“This is the djinn we captured,” Shadowmere announced as he stopped at a familiar clay pot.
“Have you been able to get any information from it?” Berry asked as she stared at the seemingly harmless piece of pottery before her.
“The djinn is currently being weakened, but it’s nowhere near weak enough to question yet. That’ll take years, maybe even decades,” Shadowmere answered, “I was able to glean one useful piece of information, though. This djinn is the same one that I captured and imprisoned here over seven hundred years ago.”
“So somepony was able to break in here?” Berry asked, connecting the pieces.
“Troubling thought, isn’t it,” Shadowmere said solemnly, “I’m not aware of anypony powerful enough to get past my seals, locks, and traps, and then replace the djinn’s container with a fake without me noticing.”
“Do you think that whoever stole the djinn was the same one behind the gargoyles and the tantibus?” Berry asked as she looked at the endless rows of magical traps and containers. What kind of terrifying beasts were ensnared within them?
“I would bet on it,” Shadowmere answered, “The only time it could have happened was while we were in Hoofington. At least in part, the tantibus may have been meant to draw me away from here so that the djinn could be retrieved.”
“In other words, we almost certainly know that the ones orchestrating these attacks were here, but there’s no way we can find out who they are, and we’re no closer to finding them than we were months ago.”
“You paint a bleak picture, but it’s not inaccurate,” Shadowmere admitted, “However, I think we may have one chance to find out the identity of our attacker. I know a pony who keeps a close eye on Canterlot. It’s not a certainty, but if anyone noticed something out of the ordinary, it would be him.”
“Well, what are we waiting for; let’s get going!” Berry said enthusiastically.
“You’ll need a coat,” Shadowmere replied, “We’re leaving Canterlot.”
***
In a dense evergreen forest in Equestria’s north, a rent suddenly tore open, and the stale air of a ruin rushed into the bitter winter cold. Two ponies stumbled out of the hole, both bundled in warm winter clothes. As their hooves touched the ground, the rent snapped closed and the forest was still again. Beryl and Shadowmere had traveled a hundred leagues in a matter of minutes, courtesy of the immortal monster hunter’s personal passage. Unlike the one they had travelled to reach Canterlot from Hoofington, this passage had been free of monsters, or at least the visible sort, and instead of a wasteland, it was a twisting tunnel of broken buildings and crumbling heaps of stone. The upside was that their trip was free of attacks, but the downside was that the tunnel aspect meant one couldn’t always reach their destination directly. Hence, the duo had emerged in the forest outside the city they were headed to, not within the city itself.
“How far to Stalliongrad?” Berry asked as blowing snow replaced the dusty stillness of the passage.
“The city wall is just over that ridge,” Shadowmere said as he pointed through the trees at a landform nopony but the immortal stallion could see through the dense forest.
He knew what he was talking about, though. Once the trees came to an end, the land sloped upward before plummeting back down toward the high stone wall that surrounded their destination. Stalliongrad had been around for several decades, but only recently had it joined Equestria. Becoming an Equestrian city had drastically changed the settlement, as it had become a center of industry. The city quickly swelled to fill the wall that had once surrounded farmland, and three of the city’s four gates were now places that railway lines converged on their way into the metropolis. This drastic change had made Stalliongrad a strange city where modern factories and ancient fortresses stood side by side.
As they entered Stalliongrad, Shadowmere pulled a pair of tinted goggles over his eyes. Sunglasses would look out of place in the north during winter, and none of the city’s citizens could be allowed to see his eyes; besides, they made him look more like a native. Beryl’s coat, though not too nice, was still less coarse and thinner than those worn by Stalliongraders. The two visitors still didn’t stick out, though, since strange ponies were not an uncommon sight in any city around Hearth’s Warming Eve.
“So, where does this friend of yours live?” Berry asked as they trotted down the mostly-deserted city streets.
“I’m not sure; it’s been a long time since I’ve seen him,” Shadowmere said, “We’ll have to wait until one of his agents finds us.”
“He has agents? What, is he in charge of some monster hunting organization?” Beryl asked, “How are they supposed to find us?”
“Don’t worry; even in this outfit, they’ll recognize me,” Shadowmere answered as they moved to make way for a pony leaving a nearby shop, “They were probably dispatched to search me out the moment we left my passage.”
“I’ve been meaning to ask you since we fought the tantibus, and I’m even more curious now,” Berry said as they turned down an alley formed by a monastery and a warehouse for sofas, “What exactly are passages?”
“In short, the remains of other worlds,” Shadowmere said.
“Remains? Other worlds?”
“Mm-hmm, our world used to be one of three realms,” Shadowmere answered her confusion, “Other than the mortal realm, there was also the Beyond—inhabited by the Draconequi—and Aetherius—home of the Equines, alicorns so powerful that ponies worshipped them as gods. Eventually both realms apart from our own crumbled into ruin, but not everything just faded away. Pieces of these worlds remain loosely linked to ours, and form the passages. Once ponies discovered a way to enter and exit them, they became the fastest method of travel—apart from teleportation—for those with the skill to use them. That art has long since disappeared, though. I doubt anypony but me makes use of passages any longer.”
“I see,” Berry said as they exited the alley and crossed the mostly empty street, “So, what’s with your personal passage?”
“I was fortunate enough to stumble upon a fairly uninhabited passage, centuries ago, and found that it can always be accessed from the yard where I built Rosethorn Hall. It’s not perfect, as you know, but at least I don’t have to worry about being attacked during my journey like in most other passages.”
Beryl nodded her understanding, but she was also amazed by just how much she didn’t know. Nothing in her Ministry training had even suggested that passages existed, much less that they were all that remained of two separate worlds. Was all this knowledge truly lost, or like the existence of gargoyles, tantibae, and djinn, was it simply hidden away as unnecessary or classified? The Ministry’s existence and operation revolved around keeping secrets, that was how they had always done things, but was it really right to keep secrets from themselves?
As Beryl pondered this, the two ponies trotted into an alley bordered by a large factory on one side and a low row of shops on the other. They were a third of the way through when a whistle mounted on the factory wall blew a long note. Seconds later, the doors along the factory wall opened and the workers swarmed out. As a wave, the crowd of ponies swept over Berry and Shadowmere, buffeting them around as they passed. Once the workers had dispersed, a soft laugh came from one of the shops’ stairwell.
“First time in Stalliongrad?” a mare’s voice came from the stairwell, “Come on down here and out of da snow.”
Shadowmere led the way over to the stairwell and paused before trotting down the steps. A canopy overhead kept the enclosure free of snow, and a mare dressed in warm Stalliongrader clothing, including a set of earmuffs, stood at its bottom. She seemed utterly unremarkable, just another Stalliongrader, yet Shadowmere seemed to think they ought to speak to her, so Beryl followed his lead.
“I am Quartz Rose, and you must be Shadowmere,” the mare said, before looking past the stallion at Beryl, “And you; Dietrep was very interested when two ponies emerged from dat passage. So, who is dis dat da great Shadowmere sees fit to take on as a companion?”
“I’m Beryl Fields,” Berry introduced herself as she stepped forward to stand beside Shadowmere, and she thought about it before adding, “Agent of the Ministry.”
“An interesting choice for one so hunted by da Ministry, eh Black Briar?” Quartz Rose commented.
Something wasn’t sitting right with Berry about this mare, and at once everything came together. It was freezing out, yet when Quartz Rose talked, no mist formed from her breath, and the scarf wrapped around her muzzle was completely free of frost. At first she had thought the extra tufts of hair at the end of her ears to be a peculiarity of the northern breeds of ponies, but now it was apparent that they were there for another reason, and the shape of her ears wasn’t quite right. Though her eyes had a soft quality to them, they seemed unsettling thanks to the blood-red irises, and Berry realized that her pupils weren’t quite circular. As quickly as she could, Beryl drew her crossbow from her saddlebags and pointed it at Quartz Rose, a wooden bolt sliding into place.
“Stop,” Shadowmere said as he moved faster than her eyes could follow and pushed her crossbow to point harmlessly upwards.
“She’s a vampire!” Berry protested as she pointed her weapon back down.
“You think I don’t know that? I can smell it on her.”
“Dat is kind of creepy,” Quartz Rose said, and she shuffled to the side to get out of the line of Beryl’s crossbow.
“Do you trust me, Beryl?” Shadowmere asked.
“I do,” she said with a sigh as she lowered her crossbow, “That doesn’t mean I trust her , or why we’re dealing with a vampire in the first place.”
“It will all be clear soon,” Shadowmere promised, “In the meantime, know that if you trust me, you can trust Dietrep, and to a lesser extent you can trust Quartz Rose.”
“Oh, dat hurt!” Quartz Rose said jokingly as her scarf slid down to reveal her fangs, “You don’t trust me, Shadowmere?”
“It’s nothing personal, but recent events have shown that even Dietrep’s higher vassals may not be as under control as he wishes,” Shadowmere said.
“Vassals?” Beryl asked, “So Dietrep is a vampire lord?”
“He is so much more dan a simple vampire lord,” Quartz Rose objected, “Dietrep is knyaz of all north-central Equestria. Every notable vampire lord, baron, and graf from Vanhoover to Manehattan swears loyalty to him.”
“When can he meet with us?” Shadowmere asked when she finished.
“Ah, of course!” Quartz Rose said as she struck her forehead with a hoof, “Here I am, gabbing with you, when I should have been leading you to him. Dietrep is very eager to see you. Come; follow me!”
***
“Please, sit down,” Dietrep said as he motioned toward a pair of chairs placed opposite his throne.
Quartz Rose had led them through Stalliongrad’s streets to another stairwell similar to the one they had met her in. This one led to a private residence that the vampire had the key for, and the residence also just so happened to link up with an abandoned set of tunnels beneath Stalliongrad. Well, the tunnels weren’t entirely abandoned. There was evidence that the vampires beneath Dietrep used them often to get around and even out of the city. A tunnel that seemed exactly the same as all the rest eventually terminated in a set of stairs that led the ponies up into an old castle.
This castle was Dietrep’s home, and it was fully staffed and stocked for the vampire lord’s convenience. When they reached the throne room—which was really more in the style of a large sitting room, with a fireplace on each end and wide and towering set of windows in the center—Beryl was shocked to see that it was outside of Stalliongrad’s walls, and looked out over the forest she and Shadowmere had appeared in earlier. The castle was hidden, that much was certain, and Shadowmere’s statement about not knowing where to find Dietrep made her think that it wasn’t always in the same place either. Powerful magic was at work here.
The throne and chairs were set up with the window to one side and the entrance to the room on the other, so until she got closer, all Beryl could see of Dietrep was his profile. Once she and Shadowmere were seated, she got a much better look at the vampire knyaz. Usually with a vampire, one could at least guess what they had once looked like as a pony, but with Dietrep it was hard to tell. His coat was thick and colored the gray of a sky just before a storm breaks, and his mane and tail were black as pitch with just a hint of crimson to them. His mane was swept slickly back and his tail was tied into braids; both had an exotic luster to them that one usually didn’t see. There were several distinguishing features that Beryl had learned to distinguish a vampire lord from a lower vampire, and Dietrep’s appearance took these to the extreme. His ears were unmistakably those of a bat, and they dominated the sides of his face, and even his nose had taken on the shape of a bat’s. Dietrep’s eyes were crystal clear, and she could feel his piercing sight bore into her. His irises, a bright red that seemed almost aflame, dominated the eyes, and the pupils were the most peculiar shapes, as if a vertical and horizontal slitted pupils coexisted. He was dressed in a finely tailored suit of black fabric, with a crimson cravat serving as the only splash of color to his outfit. As he sipped a goblet of what Beryl hoped was (but was almost certain wasn’t) wine, she got a good look at the multiple rows of wickedly long and sharp fangs within his mouth. Large leathery wings were folded behind his back with fully articulate claws clasped together behind his head.
“It’s been a long time, Shadowmere,” Dietrep spoke smoothly, finally breaking the lengthy silence.
“I’ve been busy,” he answered slowly, “As have you; I don’t even recognize Stalliongrad.”
“Surely you don’t think that I have the influence necessary to bring about an industrial revolution in this town,” Dietrep said as he bared his teeth in a smile, “Maybe I had some of my agents push the important ponies in the right direction when they were deciding whether to join Equestria or not, but no more.”
From where Beryl was sitting, it was strange to witness this conversation between two immortals. How long had the two known each other? Centuries? Millennia? Stalliongrad had only joined Equestria in the last fifty years, but how long before that had Shadowmere and Dietrep last visited? They had been apart a long time, perhaps even centuries, but they were talking like friends who had been separated for a short number of years.
“But enough about me; obviously something interesting has transpired in your life. I must say, I was quite perplexed when I sensed two ponies emerging from your passage. So, tell me, who is this that the solitary Shadowmere has chosen to accompany him?” Dietrep continued, and he turned to face Berry with the last question.
“I’m Agent Beryl Fields of the Ministry,” she introduced herself as she held eye contact with the vampire lord, “I’ve been training with Shadowmere over the past few months.”
“What an interesting combination,” Dietrep practically purred, “A mortal and a monster both claiming to be hunters of monsters. And now you’re within the monster’s lair. I would like to think I know Shadowmere’s thoughts, but what will you do, agent of the Ministry? Will you blindly follow a stallion you know next to nothing about and place your trust in me, or will you stake and decapitate me as you did to another vampire lord in the wee hours of this past night?”
How did he know that? Was Dietrep’s information network so good that it could even access Ministry secrets, or had Manehattan’s Information Containment Bureau let something slip? Shadowmere had said that Dietrep kept a close eye on Canterlot; was it possible that he had agents within the Ministry? Far more likely was the possibility that the vampire lord Beryl had killed was one of Dietrep’s vassals. After all, Quartz Rose had said that he ruled vampires from Vanhoover to Manehattan, so it would make perfect sense.
Something was out of place, though. Shadowmere was too earnest in their time together to make her suspect he had simply been using her for his own purposes, or the purposes of this vampire lord. Add to that the fact that they were guests here, and Dietrep and Shadowmere seemed cordial enough. Why was Dietrep goading her, then? Obviously there would be bad history between the Ministry and a vampire lord, but that couldn’t be all there was to it. Was this some kind of test?
“I am a guest in your castle, Dietrep, and though I may be wrong, I choose to believe that you would not harm somepony you invited here to speak with you,” Beryl said as she stared him down, “As for trust, I choose to trust you to a certain extent, and I trust that Shadowmere’s faith in you is not misplaced. After meeting Shadowmere, I’ve experienced things I never thought possible before. Maybe having a conversation with a powerful vampire lord that doesn’t end in his death won’t be my strangest experience.”
“I can tell that you’re no fool. I am knyaz over all north-central Equestria, including Manehattan. I would assume that by now you have figured out that the vampire lord you killed last night was, in fact, one of my vassals.”
“I have,” Beryl answered, “I also know that a subordinate is not their master; their views and even actions don’t necessarily reflect the views of the one they are serving.”
“They taught you this at the Ministry?” Dietrep asked as he sank back into his throne.
“You could say that,” she replied, thinking about Director Thistleback and Siren’s Song.
“How intriguing; you simply must tell me more later,” Dietrep said, just the corners of his mouth jerking up in a smile, “For now, though, I only ask that you accept my gratitude for your actions.”
“Your … gratitude?”
“Indeed; you saved me the trouble of killing Iron Gloom myself and dealing with a potentially messy scene to wrap up before the Ministry caught wind,” Dietrep answered, “What he did in Manehattan was unacceptable, not even counting exposing our community to mortals. Forgive me for the lecture, but like your Ministry, vampires must stay hidden. Non-vampires will never accept us into their society, even if we’ve changed our ways, and that will never change. It’s best for us to remain in the shadows, but we can’t do that if one of our number goes on a rampage killing mortals. So, once again, my thanks for taking care of the problem.”
“Um … you’re welcome, I guess,” Beryl said, taken off guard by Dietrep’s sudden change in mood, “What was that you said about changing your ways?”
“Surely you know that vampire activity in Equestria has decreased in the last few centuries. Why do you think that is?” Dietrep said, “No, don’t bother answering; you know. I’ve found that many vampire lords, as they grow in power, become more bitter and vengeful towards mortals for the slights they’ve encountered over the years; not me. Thankfully, I learned that violence begets violence, and that the only way to live at peace with non-vampires is to remain hidden from them and to not affect their lives any more than necessary. You keep looking at the goblet beside me. What do you think is in it?”
“Wine?” Beryl guessed as he held it toward her, even though the consistency seemed wrong for that to be true.
“Be honest,” the vampire lord commanded.
“Blood,” she said as she looked him straight in his eyes with an emotionless face.
“You would be wrong on both counts,” Dietrep replied, “This is an elixir of my own creation that can sustain a vampire indefinitely without the need to feed on other ponies. By drinking this potion, we can survive without needing to feed, and without any of the effects such acts have on ourselves and others. I created the ‘Aqua Vitae’ elixir nearly thirteen centuries ago, and I was still an idealist. I didn’t realize that just because I had formed a way for vampires to live without harming others, that didn’t mean they would take that option.
“So, I began to play the political game, to carve out a nation of vampires that would coexist with mortals by leaving them be. Eleven centuries ago, I became a baron and built this castle. Six and a half centuries ago I became vampire graf of Vanhoover. That was a difficult fight, and I spent a good fifty years putting down rebellions of vassals who wanted the old ways to go on. Eventually, though, I was successful and my power continued to grow. For the past hundred twenty years I’ve been knyaz of a growing swath of Equestria that is now mostly free of vampires that reject my ideology.”
“And nopony noticed this going on?” Beryl asked.
“Like I’ve said, I know the importance of remaining hidden,” Dietrep said, “Can you imagine what the Ministry would do if they found out a vampire lord was consolidating a power base of the size I have, regardless of my intentions? The takeover in Vanhoover was messy, with many vampires killed on both sides, and I know the Ministry discovered some of them, but the reason I’m still here today is that they didn’t manage to put the pieces together.”
“I see,” Beryl said. She truly wanted to believe him, but something inside kept her from trusting a vampire lord completely, regardless of whether he seemed to have good intentions and of Shadowmere’s assurances.
“Well, I know you didn’t come here for a social call or to hear history you already know, so what brought you here?” Dietrep asked as he turned to face Shadowmere.
“I know you keep a close eye on Canterlot,” Shadowmere said.
“Two, as often as I can spare them,” Dietrep said with a chuckle.
“Here’s what’s going on; I know that somepony broke into my hideout in Canterlot on the Eighteenth of Fading Light,” Shadowmere explained, “Did you notice anything out of the ordinary on that day?”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t say that I did,” Dietrep said as he shook his head, “Canterlot has been troublesome lately. So much darkness is coalescing there that it’s hard to pick out individual points. I’ve been wanting to warn you for some time, Shadowmere. Something evil is lurking at the center of Equestria, some darkness hidden within the very core, close to Celestia herself. I can sense it, but so far whoever or whatever it is has managed to throw me off. Be wary; strong magic is at work here, and I shudder to think what will happen when it achieves its purpose.”
“Could this possibly be the force behind the monster attacks?” Beryl asked Shadowmere, before facing an intrigued Dietrep, “Do you know anything more about the reappearance of gargoyles, a tantibus, and a djinn in Canterlot?”
“I’m afraid I don’t, at least not consciously,” Dietrep said, “However …”
“No, you can’t,” Shadowmere cut in as the vampire lord moved to rise from his seat.
“This is a serious matter, and I insist,” Dietrep said obstinately.
“And if you die, what then? All your work will be undone.”
“All Equestria will be undone if this darkness at its heart is not cut out soon,” Dietrep said as he rose and trotted away, a cape swirling behind him.
“What’s he going to do?” Beryl asked, seeing the concern on Shadowmere’s face.
“He’s going to go into a trance to create a dreamscape,” he replied as Dietrep returned with a crystal ball, “This is a dangerous venture for any vampire, but especially for him. You remember what happened last time.”
“You didn’t let me die then; I’m confident you won’t now,” Dietrep huffed, “Now, if I could begin …”
The vampire lord shifted around in his throne until he reached a comfortable position, and then placed a hoof on the crystal ball sitting on the table next to him. His breathing deepened (or more accurately, it finally became noticeable) and his eyes slid shut. It seemed at first like nothing was happening, but then Dietrep went rigid in his throne. His body began to spasm around, and when his eyes momentarily cracked open, Beryl could see that they were rolling wildly. Through it all, his hoof remained firmly pressed against the crystal ball, and every time she looked back at it, Beryl saw more sparkling mist congealing within.
After several minutes of jerking around like a madpony, Dietrep went limp and his hoof disconnected from the crystal ball. Shadowmere jumped from his chair, knocking it over in the process, as he rushed to the vampire’s aid. All the blood seemed to have been drained from Dietrep’s body, and Beryl could see some of it trailing from his nostrils.
“Don’t die on me,” Shadowmere commanded as he grabbed the goblet of Aqua Vitae and poured some down Dietrep’s throat.
With his hooves, Shadowmere quickly drew runes in the air around Dietrep’s body, some of them becoming visible and sinking into his flesh. At last, the vampire lord began to move again, and shakily pushed Shadowmere away as he coughed. Carefully, he propped himself upright in his throne, and Shadowmere gave him another drink of Aqua Vitae.
“You fool. That better have been worth it,” Shadowmere scolded Dietrep as he returned to his chair.
“It will be, I’m sure of it,” Dietrep said, “I couldn’t make out much, but I did manage to gather that whoever it is you are hunting is nearly ready to make their next move. Something is coming to Canterlot soon, within the next two or three days at the latest.”
“Is there anything else you can tell us?” Beryl asked, feeling a little bad to be pushing him after what he’d just gone through, but knowing that it was necessary.
“No; the rest is up to you,” Dietrep replied as he shook his head.
“Up to … us?” Beryl asked, pointing to herself and Shadowmere, “How?”
“Within this crystal ball is a dreamscape generated by my trance,” the vampire lord said as he picked up the ball and held it out, “By traversing it, you will hopefully be able to learn more than I did. I wouldn’t wait to do so, though. Once I saw that something was near, I tried to focus my attention, so most of what you learn should be immediately helpful in dealing with the trouble coming to Canterlot.”
“Thank you, Dietrep,” Shadowmere said as he took the crystal ball, “We’ll let you rest now.”
The moment the two non-vampires left the room, Dietrep’s subjects rushed in to tend to their master. Beryl looked back until the door slammed shut, cutting off view of the peculiar vampire lord.
***
“What do you mean I don’t have access?” Beryl asked the crystal on her desk.
After leaving Dietrep’s castle, Beryl and Shadowmere had returned to Canterlot via his personal passage immediately. Given the vampire lord’s warning, Beryl wanted to examine the dreamscape right away, but Shadowmere had explained that some preparation was involved, and they wouldn’t be able to do so for several hours at least. So, Berry had returned home and gotten a good night’s sleep. In the morning, she’d figured she still had some time before they could undertake their task for the day, so she headed to the Ministry to do some research. She wanted to trust Dietrep, but the feeling that he was hiding something wouldn’t go away. She searched for the history of vampires killing other vampires in Vanhoover he had spoken of, but when she did so, her desk locked her out of the Ministry records.
“Agent Beryl Fields is currently denied access to Ministry records for the following reasons,” the crystal said in a magically prerecorded voice, “Agent is currently on holiday. To prevent misuse of Ministry resources, access permissions are temporarily disabled.”
Beryl groaned and leaned back in her chair. The sensible thing to do would be to leave and forget about the issue until next week, but she had already come to the Ministry on her vacation with a specific purpose, and she didn’t plan on leaving until she’d accomplished it. Rising from her seat, she trotted over to the door and opened it, looking out into the hallway. Two offices down, she saw an open door; she knew the pony inside, so she closed her office back up and trotted down to it.
“Hey Smoky, can I ask you a favor?” Berry asked as she stepped into the office after making sure only one other pony was inside.
Smoky Dale looked up from her work, levitating her reading glasses away from her face as she did so. The creamy yellow mare had been Berry’s friend since the beginning of her time at the Ministry, but over the last four years they’d rarely seen each other, each going their separate ways. Still, that past relationship remained, and Berry hoped it would insure she wouldn’t be treated like a complete stranger when asking something of the other mare.
“Berry? I thought you had Hearth’s Warming Eve off this year,” she said as she brushed a long strand of smoky gray hair away from her face.
“I do have it off; that’s why I need to ask a favor,” Berry explained, “There’s something on my mind that I need to check out, but I don’t have access to the Ministry records until my vacation is over. Could you look it up for me?”
“Sure, what do you need to know?” Smoky said after a moment’s pause.
“The decrease in vampire activity in Equestria over the last few centuries; it started in Vanhoover, didn’t it?” Berry asked.
“I think so, if I remember correctly,” Smoky said, “Why?”
“Could you check when that was, and if there were any reports of vampires killing each other in the same time period?” Berry requested.
“Um, I guess so. Give me a second,” Smoky replied.
While she accessed the Ministry’s records with her voice, Berry’s eyes looked around the office. Just like hers, it was pretty bare, with no decorations to speak of. Perhaps that had been one of the reasons the two ponies had become friends in the first place. Neither saw any need for frivolities, preferring to remain focused on their work, and that still hadn’t changed.
Berry’s eyes wandered to the report Smoky had been reading when she’d walked in. Apparently the day before, somepony had discovered an abandoned wagon at a clearing on the path to Canterlot. When they’d tried to pull it away, they discovered the sparse remains of a pony underneath that had either been brutally murdered or devoured. The torn and bloody clothing and teeth marks on the splinters of bone left behind seemed to point to the latter. That was a cheery case to be working on Hearth’s Warming Eve.
“Looks like 650 years ago, the Vanhoover branch started reporting finding the bodies of vampires killed by other vampires,” Smoky said as she looked through the reports returned by her search, “This went on for about fifty years, until vampire attacks in the region stopped almost overnight. After that, it looks like only three major vampire incidents occurred in Vanhoover to this day.”
“Thanks, Smoky; that’s all I needed to check,” Berry said, and she turned to leave the room.
“Hey, Berry,” Smoky said and she turned back, “Don’t spend tonight by yourself. Nopony should be alone on Hearth’s Warming Eve.”
“Don’t worry; I’ll be fine,” Berry said, “Happy Hearth’s Warming.”
“Happy Hearth’s Warming to you too,” Smoky said as Berry left the office.
She wouldn’t be alone for Hearth’s Warming Eve. She probably wouldn’t be celebrating, but she would be doing something more important. Soon she and Shadowmere would be preparing to face whatever terror was coming to Canterlot.
***
By the time Shadowmere and Berry were seated before Dietrep’s crystal ball, the mist within had thickened to the point that it now resembled a roiling storm cloud, albeit one filled with twinkling stars. The sphere itself rested at the center of a circle of thread laid out on the table, two seven-pointed stars within. One was pointed toward Berry and the other toward Shadowmere.
“Are you ready?” the stallion asked from across the shining globe.
“What can we expect?” Berry asked.
“The dreamscape is a kind of pocket world created from Dietrep’s vision, so it should tie into what he saw,” Shadowmere explained, “That said, we could encounter anything. It’s not called a dreamscape for nothing; the rules of this world aren’t often followed, and anything could happen, no matter how implausible. A benefit we have is that we’ll know we’re dreaming, which will give us a small measure of control and the dream more stability. The drawback is that our own minds will be tied to the dreamscape in order to traverse it, and sensations can flow both ways.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Berry asked with concern.
“Our own thoughts and memories can spill into the dreamscape. In fact, it’s likely that they will, to a small degree, shape what we see. It’s important, though, that we keep tight control of our minds so that they don’t flood the dreamscape and overwhelm us. If it seems at any point that you are experiencing more of your own thoughts than the dreamscape, immediately clear your mind, or think about a sequence of unrelated things to keep from being overwhelmed. Understand?”
“Yes, I think so,” Berry answered.
“Good, now get in a comfortable position and we’ll begin.”
Berry stretched herself out on the sofa, but kept her head turned toward the crystal ball. Shadowmere was settling into the chair on the other side, and began to recite something in a language unfamiliar to her. Berry had no idea when she stopped perceiving the real world, and when she was fast asleep and within the dreamscape. Just like a natural dream, she found herself in the middle of it with no idea how or when she had arrived.
The dreamscape was extremely disorienting at first, and Berry struggled to gain her bearings. She appeared to be within some kind of maze, though it was unclear whether the walls were hedges or planks of wood. Perhaps they were both, for they were constantly shifting, making it impossible to focus on one for any extended length of time. Through some unseen light source, the maze was lit up like daylight, but a deep darkness loomed overhead. Though she couldn’t see it, Berry had the feeling that there was a ceiling somewhere far above; maybe it was the lack of stars that convinced her she wasn’t looking up at the night sky. When she’d arrived, the maze had seemed silent, but now she could hear clattering wood elsewhere in the maze, as well as what sounded like wind blowing through scattered cables. She could also make out a slow flapping in the distance, as if made by some massive pair of wings. They sounded leathery, definitely not made by a pegasus, bird, or any other creature with feathers.
“Berry, there you are,” Shadowmere called as he darted out of a place where the maze split up ahead.
Though Shadowmere had been wearing only his suit back in his hideout, he was now decked out in his full uniform, along with some extra weapons slung here and there on his person, floating strangely, as if gravity didn’t have a firm hold on them. Examining herself, Berry saw she was still wearing the civilian clothes she’d had on in the real world. Shadowmere had said they would have a small measure of control in the dreamscape, so she gave it a shot. Instantaneously, she was wearing her Ministry uniform along with a belt of hoofmade grenades and her crossbow.
“You have the basics down, I see,” Shadowmere commented.
“Thanks; what now?” Berry asked as she looked around the maze.
“Now we traverse the dreamscape,” Shadowmere said as he led the way, “There’s some piece of information here we have to obtain if we want to move on.”
“Move on?” Berry asked, but after voicing her question, she immediately realized there was something behind her and getting closer.
Drawing her crossbow, Berry spun around and fired a bolt off. The thunk of metal on wood reached her ears before she realized what her stalker was. Down the passage, moving undeterred toward her, was a pony-sized puppet. It was crudely made, but clearly a pony, and its movements were nightmarish as it was tugged this way and that by silvery threads leading up into the darkness. The wooden mouth clacked open and closed, and its glassy eyes spun around toward Berry as it drew closer. Berry fitted another bolt into her crossbow, this time an explosive one, and fired it at the marionette. Splinters of wood flew everywhere as it was blown to bits. The sound of more clattering wood came from past it as other puppets were drawn to the sound of their comrade’s destruction.
“We should move,” Shadowmere stated the obvious, and Berry followed him.
They wove through the maze, turning this way and that, encountering a puppet from time to time and annihilating it before it could do them any harm. As they reached a point where the maze split, Shadowmere turned left and Berry right. Instantly she came to a halt, and her body fell to the ground as it was dragged backwards. Shocked, Berry looked around and tried to figure out what had happened. In a moment, it all became clear. Leading from the joints of her legs, as well as her back, neck, and head, were silvery strands that trailed upwards without end.
“I’m a puppet!” she exclaimed hysterically, which was true except for the fact that she was still flesh and blood.
“Don’t panic,” Shadowmere said, and Berry turned to face him, only to see that he also had cables attached to him.
“You’re a puppet as well!” she said, which somehow made things seem better, though she had no idea why.
The immortal stallion drew a sword and tried to slice through the strands tied to him. Berry, beginning to recover now from the jolt of being pulled back, also came to her senses and conjured a blade of magic to cut the strings. Except, they wouldn’t snap. Even when she increased her sword’s strength well past what she’d be able to manage in the real world, the strands remained completely untouched. Shadowmere wasn’t having much more luck; even Daybreak had no effect on the cables. Frustrated, Berry fired her crossbow up toward where her strings converged, but the unseen explosion of her bolt only caused them to sway slightly.
“You know, this could be a good thing,” Shadowmere commented after they’d both given up trying to free themselves of their tethers.
“Just how is that?” Berry asked skeptically.
“With any luck, we’ll be guided down the path out of here as long as we follow where our tethers lead us. This could actually work out quite well.”
Berry hated to admit it, but he did have a point. The sound of clattering wood reminded her why they’d been running in the first place.
“Well, I guess we have to hope for the best. Let’s move!” Berry said as the first of the puppets appeared down the path she had almost taken.
Thankfully, the puppets were still vulnerable to the duo’s weapons, and Beryl blasted them to pieces in an explosion of bluish fire from a special quarrel. Shadowmere led the way, slicing through the puppets with a sword to clear a path as Berry guarded their rear, turning any pursuing puppets into splinters or slicing them with her magical sword if they got too close. As Shadowmere had predicted, the tethers seemed to be leading them somewhere, as every now and then they’d take a wrong turn and be yanked back violently. Berry hoped that whatever was leading them along truly was guiding them to some destination, and not just pulling them around aimlessly. The maze walls all looked identical, and there was no way of telling if they hadn’t just looped back around to their original position. If only they could fly, but neither pony was a pegasus, and so were earthbound.
After what seemed like an eternity of running, they stumbled into a large open area with doorways around the edge leading back into the maze. At the very center of the open space was a rough podium that looked simultaneously like a stump and a pony-constructed piece of furniture. Embedded in it was a crystalline sword, the hilt pointed straight up. Shadowmere sheathed the sword he was carrying as they approached it.
“Do you think that will cut the strings?” Berry asked as she stared at the gleaming weapon.
“One way to find out,” Shadowmere said, and he grabbed the sword in his mouth and pulled it from the podium.
Instantly the floor panels beneath them fell away, and Berry and Shadowmere found themselves suspended over a bottomless pit, dangling from their puppet strings. The puppets that had begun to enter the open area were now also hanging out over the abyss, but they were still moving toward the duo, albeit at a slower pace than before. Shadowmere motioned to Berry before throwing the sword to her, and she caught it with her magic. Giving it a swing, she sliced easily through the strings holding Shadowmere in place. A few more swipes, and the immortal stallion fell into the darkness below. The puppets were closing in now, and Berry quickly cut her own strings, swiftly falling out of their wooden reach.
Only moments after she’d begun to fall, the sword slipped from her magical grasp and disappeared into the darkness. Berry tried to see what she was falling toward, but there was nothing to see, and the drop was making her eyes water, anyway, so she looked up instead. The maze’s mysterious light swiftly shrunk until there was nothing left but a pinprick of illumination. Slowly, more lights appeared above her until it resembled a night’s sky. Out of the corner of her eye, Berry even spotted the moon, though it didn’t have its distinctive pony head pattern for some reason. She looked down just seconds before the ground rushed up and met her.
Instinctively, she closed her eyes, but when she opened them she found that she had arrived on the ground completely intact, with none of the injuries one would expect from falling from such a great height; she was even standing upright. Berry had landed on a rough dirt road bordered on one side by a low stone wall and on the other by a rickety fence. Fields stretched out into the distance on either side of the road, and mountains ringed the horizon. To the left the path seemed to lead to a distant castle, but there was a small circle of light in the middle distance that seemed to be coming from a lantern.
“We should get moving that way,” Shadowmere said from right beside Berry, startling her.
“Will you ever stop doing that?” she asked with annoyance as she stepped to the side and made sure she could keep him in sight.
“Probably not. I’m old and set in my ways,” he said before trotting off toward the castle.
Berry sighed and followed Shadowmere down the path. She couldn’t tell if he was joking or not. Probably a little of both, she decided. Sometimes it seemed like he was just another pony, but many times she was reminded just how different he really was. An immortal, and that was just about the extent of her knowledge. She had no idea how he’d become immortal, what his immortality really meant, or really anything about him besides the few scraps of information he’d chosen to disclose to her. She acted like she knew him well, but in reality Berry knew very little about her companion.
She ceased her musings as they reached the nearby light source. It turned out to be a lantern mounted on a post at a crossroads. Directly beneath the lamp was set up a wooden table, and standing behind it was a stallion in clothing taken right out of a history book on the founding of Equestria. He was swiftly shuffling a deck of cards between his hooves, and he stared at Shadowmere and Berry as they approached.
“Care for a game?” the pony said smoothly, “It’s high risk, but the rewards are unimaginable . Oh, the tales I could tell you.”
“We’ll pass, thanks,” Shadowmere said gruffly as he trotted past.
“It’s your loss, Ghost of Cluj Naponi,” the pony said as he tipped his cap toward Shadowmere and narrowed his eyes.
The only reaction he got was that Shadowmere stopped in his walk for a moment before continuing. Berry trotted to catch up, ignoring the card-pony as she did so.
“What was that about?” Berry asked.
“I would think you’d realize never to make a deal at a crossroads,” Shadowmere said, not letting up the pace a bit, “I can imagine the tales he has to tell. All of them end with his opponent forfeiting their eternal soul.”
“Not what I meant. Why did he call you the Ghost of Cluj Naponi?”
“This area of the dreamscape, it reminds of a place I visited a long time ago,” Shadowmere said as he gestured around, “The residents gave me that name. That the pony back there knew it is just because the dreamscape is shaped by our memories as well as Dietrep’s.”
“I see,” Berry said.
It didn’t explain why he hadn’t just brushed it off and moved on, though. Was this another thing about his past he didn’t want to talk about, like founding the Ministry? What secrets was he hiding?
“There’s nothing else around, so I’d wager that castle is where we’re supposed to go next,” Shadowmere said, pointing at the towering structure in the distance, “Let’s concentrate on reaching it.”
***
The hinges squealed in protest as Berry swung the door open. Upon entering the castle, it had seemed very familiar. Now that Berry had opened this door, she realized why. The room she trotted into looked nearly identical to the room they had met Dietrep in, including the large set of windows looking out in the direction she and Shadowmere had come from. The throne was rotated so that it faced the window, though. The only light in the room was coming from the moon outside, so all she could see of the throne was a silhouette, but as she got closer she realized that something was wrong.
She galloped forward when she spotted the sword hilt sticking out of the back of the throne. The rest of the sword had been plunged through the throne and the pony on the other side, and a pool of blood had formed on the ground. The pony slumped over in the throne looked strikingly like Dietrep, except for the vampiric aspects. So far as she could tell, the king (his crown had rolled across the floor) was just a regular pony. Still, brushing anything off in the dreamscape as coincidence could be dangerous.
“Does this mean what I think it means?” she asked Shadowmere after the two of them stood silently for several minutes.
“I certainly hope not,” he said solemnly, “Come on, we’d better keep moving.
Berry gave one last look back at the slain king before trotting over to the door Shadowmere had gone through. As she passed through, she immediately found herself in an earthen tunnel with flames surrounding her. She quickly cast a spell to protect her from the fire, and looked for some indication of which way was out.
“This is my memory; I know the way out,” Shadowmere announced as he ran up the passage at Berry.
The flames seemed to jump out of his way as he galloped down the tunnels, and even when they did hit him, they were deflected off the cloak he was suddenly wearing for some reason. In fact, his whole outfit had changed, perhaps to fit the time period of his memory, and though he still looked terrifyingly immortal, he somehow seemed younger. How far in the past was this memory from?
Pieces of the ceiling began to fall as they continued through the passages, Shadowmere never faltering for a second. He seemed to know the layout of this place intimately, and Berry wondered what it had once been to him. They’d passed through several dining and sleeping areas, so he obviously hadn’t lived here alone. Had an order of monster hunters once dwelled here?
The two ponies finally made it to a set of stairs that led into a large cavern with a waterfall and pond. Shadowmere pointed the way to a tunnel on the far side that would lead out, and urged Beryl to run for it. Shadowmere himself stood still for a minute, looking back at a side passage, and Berry followed his gaze. In a nearby room was a large metal coffin leaning against the wall, covered in strange runes.
“Not this time, either,” Shadowmere whispered barely audibly before breaking his stare at the coffin and taking off for the exit.
Berry managed to get outside first through the skull-shaped door, and she found herself in the middle of the woods. Running back and forth through the trees were earth ponies with torches and pitchforks. Many of them were calling for Shadowmere’s head, and some were calling for his head again . In all the confusion, the two ponies were able to slip past them and into the forest.
“That went better than in reality,” Shadowmere commented once the sounds of angry villagers faded into the distance.
“Did they execute you?” Beryl asked.
“No; they did catch me, though, and I had to fight my way through,” Shadowmere said with a frown, “I’ve been many things in my life, but always a killer. I’m glad the time is past that the things I kill are ponies.”
“So, that was the past. Is there any way to tell if what we’re seeing is the past, the present, or the future?” Beryl asked as she looked around at the trees, which seemed to be closing in and forming a corridor.
“The nature of the dreamscape makes it difficult,” Shadowmere admitted, “It could be any or all three at once. Even something that you’re certain is just a memory could tell you something new if some feature is different from what actually transpired.”
“I see,” Berry said as the trees firmed up into an actual corridor.
In a transition that the mind couldn’t comprehend, the forest became a hallway with shops on both sides. Ponies in warm clothing spilled out into the hall, and soon Berry and Shadowmere were walking through a crowd. Cheery tunes were blasted out of speakers in the ceiling, nearly drowned out by the multitude of pony voices.
“This is the Mall of Equestria in Whinnyapolis,” Berry realized.
Just like in the real world, it also appeared to be Hearth’s Warming Eve here. The mall and stores were packed with ponies trying to get last minute deals on gifts. None of them seemed to pay any mind to the heavily armed duo standing in their midst, for some reason.
They hadn’t been there too long when the crowd surged forward, carrying Berry and Shadowmere with them. The excited shouting became louder as everypony converged on a bookshop. Berry and Shadowmere tried to break free from the flow of ponies, but no matter what they did, they were still propelled along and funneled into the shop. The door swung shut and a little bell tinkled as the crowd finally came to a stop, packed into the bookstore so tightly that one could hardly move.
Everypony’s attention was fixed on a blue-coated unicorn in a suit seated behind a folding table. She was signing and distributing copies of a book to the members of the crowd, and Berry realized that a sign to her right was advertising just that. It read:
Book Signing and Sale Hearth’s Warming Eve Only!
1008 Tales and Legends of Romanean Folklore
Only 1 soul to purchase!
The last line made her do a double-take. The cost for a book was one soul ? They were in a dream, but even so … Could this be something important to be learned from the dreamscape? Souls, tales, and a title suspiciously similar to the book she’d returned to Shadowmere the day before. What parts were from Dietrep, from her, and from Shadowmere? Was there any way to tell?
“Hey, you! Miss Night!” Beryl called to the author as she pushed her way through the crowd, choosing a direct approach, “What’s the meaning of all this?”
“Oh, do you want a book?” she asked, holding a copy out toward Beryl.
“No, I don’t!” she said as she knocked it to the floor, “You can’t go around taking ponies’ souls as payment for your books!”
“I didn’t think there’d be a problem,” D.K. Night said as she cowered away, “I was assured everything would be alright.”
“What seems to be the issue here?” a stallion asked as he emerged from the shadows behind the author.
His coat was an even darker shade of blue than D.K. Night’s, and he too wore a suit. His mane was tied back into a ponytail, and he also wore a hat and dark glasses on his head. A shawl over his back covered his wings.
“Who are you supposed to be?” Beryl asked the newcomer.
“Why, I’m Miss Night’s manager, of course, but who I am will soon be the least of your worries,” the stallion said as he flashed a smile, and Beryl spotted a sharper than normal tooth in his mouth.
The pegasus stallion clapped his hooves together and the store vanished. Bookshelves and Hearth’s Warming Eve shoppers transitioned into an amorphous state for a moment before solidifying into a new scene. Flames were all around and at first Berry thought that they’d been transported back to the burning tunnels, but then she looked up at the blazing building in front of her. Canterlot Castle was on fire, and as Berry looked around she saw that the whole city was burning. When was this? The past? The present? The future? Where was Shadowmere at?
A roar drew Beryl’s attention upward, and she froze in horror at what she saw. A wyvern flew past Canterlot Castle, dousing it in flames, before spinning around and hovering in place. She couldn’t look away, and the dreamscape began to warp and twist around her as her breathing quickly reached an alarming rate. She heard familiar screams, and spears flew past her as she began to shake. Nearby, Shadowmere broke through the door of a burning building and galloped toward the mare as fast as he could without being sucked into the tumultuous region surrounding her.
“Berry, think about something else! Break free! Snap out of it!” he shouted, but she could barely hear his voice.
Flaming pieces of ceiling fell around Beryl as she screamed and darted away, squeezing under a bed, covering her head with her hooves. Magic crackled around her as protective spells broke apart and the wyvern’s roar shook everything. Blood flew through the air and Beryl ran, only to come face to face with the monstrous lizard. Its jaws opened wide and its throat glowed as it prepared to roast everything in its path.
Then, everything in the chaos was swept away by an even more chaotic storm. The scene around Beryl changed so quickly that she was only able to catch snapshots. A burning building, a sleeping pony, a seven-headed dragon, Celestia seated on a throne, a cream-coated pony with sword and staff, a moonlit grotto. The scenes continued to flash by faster than Beryl could fully comprehend, and quickly became more disturbing. Blood flowed and monsters perished, or succeeded in tearing apart helpless victims. There were so many victims, so many ponies that died in exchange for those saved. Beryl could feel it: the sadness, the helplessness, the weariness. Then she experienced death, not once, but over and over. Decapitation, incineration, mutilation, death by beast and pony, death by overexposure and drowning, death by choice. It was terrible, and she couldn’t bear it. A scream she didn’t hear erupted from her throat and darkness and silence replaced everything.
***
When Berry’s eyes cracked open, she saw only darkness. She was lying on something soft, and realized after a moment that she was in a bed, with the covers pulled over her. She sat up quickly, not trusting anything. Was she still in the dreamscape, or back in reality? As her eyes became accustomed to the darkness, she saw that she was wearing her civilian clothes once again. That was no guarantee, though, so she tried to use her imagination to change them into her Ministry uniform. When nothing happened, she decided that the better odds were for her being in reality again.
Berry climbed out of bed once she’d taken a minute to gain her bearings, and trotted over to the door. On the other side was a hallway of the same style as the one Shadowmere had led her down the day before, with dim gas lamps leading past unevenly spaced doors. It didn’t take her long to realize that it was not the same passage as before, which begged the question: how large was Shadowmere’s hideout? Certainly it had to be larger than Rosethorn Hall at this point.
Since Berry was completely unfamiliar with this area and had no idea how to get back to the sitting room, and because the passage didn’t seem to be coming to an end, she started trying doors. Most were sealed with various locks, and Berry passed those by, but she was able to access a few. One led to a rainforest-like room filled with exotic plants. Another had a crystalline chamber on the other side. Other rooms were more recognizable, like an armory filled with weapons, and the place Shadowmere did his laundry (which Beryl subconsciously knew had to exist, but it was still strange to see it).
She had opened quite a few doors and was still completely lost, when she spotted a large, ornate set of doors ahead that were propped open. Curious, she trotted up to them and saw that they led into a library. It wasn’t an unimpressive library either; this collection of books easily rivaled the size of the Canterlot Archives. Shelves soared to a second level, where railed walkways were suspended. The way the ceiling extended past the last shelf of books suggested that there was more to the upper level than could be seen from down below, so Berry trotted up a spiral staircase to the second floor to take a look around.
Past the bookshelves was a small sitting area with a table and chairs (and more bookshelves, these with locked gates in front of them). Seated at the table was Shadowmere, a pile of open books before him, along with a journal in which he was writing with a quill. When he noticed Berry, he finished what he was writing before setting down the quill, closing the journal, and tying it shut.
“Feeling better?” he asked as he began to consolidate the tomes before him.
“What happened in the dreamscape?”
“Your mind was beginning to take over the dream, and it would soon have overwhelmed it,” Shadowmere explained, “Something you saw caused a strong reaction from your memories, and they began to flood in.”
“But what about your memories?” Berry asked, “You said that the burning tunnels and the forest were part of your memories, and that the land with the castle and the card-dealer were familiar to you. What was the difference?”
“Those scenes were part of the dreamscape, constructed from my mind, not by it,” Shadowmere said as he finished stacking the books and pushed them to the side, “When I experienced my memories, I kept a tight hold on my mind, but you are unexperienced in traversing dreamscapes and were unable to do so. I assume you saw something familiar that triggered the collapse, something constructed from your mind, an unpleasant memory most likely.”
Berry nodded with a frown and she stared at the floor.
“Don’t feel like this was your fault,” Shadowmere continued, “What I saw … I can’t imagine anypony traversing a dreamscape for their first time and facing something from their past like that without the same result.”
“At the end, it was different though, wasn’t it?” Berry asked, “At least, what I saw certainly weren’t my memories.”
“Correct; they were mine,” Shadowmere said, “I saw that you wouldn’t be able to break out of it on your own, so I released my own memories in order to shock you out of the dream.”
“So, everything I saw?” Berry asked, recalling how terrible the things were she’d seen.
“Yes; they were my memories,” Shadowmere said, “now we’ve both seen a bit of each other’s minds.”
Berry let that sink in. It was hard to remember exactly what she’d seen, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to. Also, what had Shadowmere seen of her past? As a Ministry agent, Berry had very powerful spells protecting her memories from being read, but apparently that didn’t apply to the dreamscape.
“So,” Berry said, clearing her throat, “What did you learn from the dreamscape?”
“Not much, yet,” Shadowmere said, gesturing to the stack of books, “We still have to finish traversing it, after all.”
“You mean you didn’t continue after I … woke up?” Berry said, for lack of a better phrase.
“Impossible,” Shadowmere said, “Once two begin traversing the dreamscape, they must be the ones to finish traversing it. After all, it can’t exist without our contributions to it, now can it?”
“I suppose not,” Berry said.
“Well then, shall we try again?” Shadowmere asked, “I should warn you that we’ll reenter the dreamscape exactly where we left it, so prepare yourself so that your mind doesn’t begin to flood in again.”
“Let’s do it,” Berry said, resolving not to let that happen.
They didn’t have the time to afford another mistake. With every second that ticked by, the likelihood that what Dietrep had seen coming to Canterlot would arrive increase, and Berry saw on a nearby clock that their first jaunt in the dreamscape and her time spent sleeping downstairs had already cost them several hours of the day.
Berry finally knew exactly where she was when Shadowmere opened the door out of the library’s sitting area and she saw that the other side was his hideout’s main sitting room. Dietrep’s crystal ball was still sitting on the table, and Berry and Shadowmere returned to their previous positions on either side of it. Berry closed her eyes and steeled herself for what was coming while Shadowmere repeated his chant.
When she opened her eyes, she was standing in the burning Canterlot once again. She squeezed her eyes shut again when she heard the wyvern’s roar. Against her better judgement, she slowly opened her eyes again and looked back up at it. She could feel her memories begin to tug at her, and it was hard to fight from being pulled back into them again, but this time she was more prepared. She forced herself to look away from the wyvern, and instead looked at the moon behind it. It was then that she realized that daylight was fading, and that the glow around the moon was the sun hidden behind it. She recognized the eclipse, though neither she nor anypony she knew (except maybe Shadowmere) had ever experienced one. The last eclipse had occurred … well, a few centuries ago at least.
“Berry!” she heard Shadowmere call, and turned to see that he was down the street, pointing at a hooded elderly mare beckoning for them to come to her, “This way!”
Blocking out the rampaging wyvern as best she could, Berry ran down the street to Shadowmere and the crone. She stopped beckoning when they reached her and led them into a burning house. The smell of smoke disappeared as soon as they stepped through the door, and as it slammed shut they could see that they were in a different building entirely.
They were within a theater, and the crone led them through the aisle between the stage and the first row of seats. A cold silence seemed to fill the place, and Berry felt that it would somehow be wrong to talk here, even about the things she was seeing, for there was much to see. The seats of the theater were filled with pony skeletons, the bones so clean of flesh that it looked like something had eaten every last morsel. Strangely, each and every one of the skeletons were poised on the edge of their seats, as if they were entranced with some unseen show on stage. On stage there was nothing much remarkable, except for piles of clothes that Berry soon realized were discarded costumes. At least, if this theater was supposed to exist in the modern day, they were. Clothes like that hadn’t been worn since the first Hearth’s Warming Eve.
The crone continued to lead them on to a door on the far side of the theater and out into an underground cave. Looking back, Berry saw that there was no door behind her anymore, but a large cave entrance that looked out on a setting sun. A path had been carved into the cave floor, and the crone led them down it to a small ferry boat. She climbed aboard and beckoned for Shadowmere and Berry to follow her, so they complied. Still in silence, they rowed out into a subterranean river.
They had been floating along for several minutes when Berry saw a pale hoof reach over the edge of the ferry. As the pony it belonged to attempted to pull itself up, she saw that the flesh was peeling off the foreleg, or perhaps rotting would be a more astute description. The crone gave the hoof a sharp whack with the pole she was using to steer the ferry and the hoof let go, making a small splash as it descended beneath the water. Curious, Berry moved over to the edge and peered into the river, only to recoil. Just beneath the surface were thousands of the living corpses, all reaching up for an escape from their watery grave.
“What is this place?” Berry asked, more to herself than directed at anypony.
“A river of the dead,” Shadowmere answered anyway, “Some pegasus legends spoke of such a place, though the rest of the design is reminiscent of Tartarus’s entrance.”
“Indeed,” the crone said in a deep and menacing voice, and Berry turned to see with surprise that the crone was a crone no longer.
The hood and cloak were still there, but the form beneath it was no longer that of a pony. The lower half resembled the torso of a stocky pony, but where the neck should have been was a torso like the upper half of a minotaur. Berry remembered reading about these creatures before, but centaurs were truly an extinct race. Perhaps that’s why this centaur was a skeleton; it gripped the pole in a pair of bony hands and gave the duo a fiendish lipless grin.
Shadowmere appeared to be far more shocked that Berry thought he should have been, and he staggered backwards, away from the centaur, with a look of dread on his face, before falling from the boat. Berry ran over to the side as the centaur used its pole to bring the ferry to a halt. Shadowmere was sinking away, the masses of the dead dragging him deeper under. Seeing no other option at the moment, Berry dove in after him.
The water was freezing, and Berry could quite literally feel the cold, bony hoof of death reaching out for her as she swam after Shadowmere. Her horn glowed every few seconds as she sent out a bubble of magic that forced the corpses away from her. When she at last reached Shadowmere, she conjured her magic sword and used it to drive the dead away, before grabbing hold of the stallion and rocketing toward the surface.
The two ponies emerged from the water in a spray of foam and landed heavily in the ferry. The centaur paid them no mind as Berry greedily sucked in air and Shadowmere coughed up water. Berry stood, lamenting that she’d be dripping wet for hours, until she realized that she could easily imagine herself dry and it would be over. As soon as she had dried herself, Shadowmere promptly splashed her with water as he tried to wring out his dripping mane, which had pulled free of the strand keeping it tied behind his head.
“What was that about?” Berry asked after drying herself again.
“I was reminded of someone, that’s all,” Shadowmere said.
“The centaur?” Berry asked as she turned to look at their guide, only to see that he was no longer standing in the front of the boat.
“It appears our guide wishes to guide us no longer,” Shadowmere said as he picked up the pole dropped on the floor of the ferry, “Looks like it’s up to us to find our way to the end of the river.”
***
Berry froze when she stepped through the door, though what she saw was exactly what she’d expected to see. At the end of the river was a castle just like the one where she’d found the dead almost-Dietrep. And just like then, upon reaching the throne room, the sight that greeted her was a throne with a sword sticking out of the back. As she trotted around with a heavy heart, she realized that something was different. The pony sitting in this throne was a mare, and an alicorn like Celestia. Her coat was more of a cream than white and her mane was spark-filled and golden, but the resemblance to Equestria’s monarch was uncanny. When Berry saw the blood dripping from the dead pony’s mouth, she had to look away.
Outside the window, looming huge in the sky, was the eclipse again. Berry looked around for the wyvern, and breathed a small sigh of relief when it didn’t appear. What could all this mean? In both the burning Canterlot and here, an eclipse dominated the sky, and in both places tragedy had befallen Equestria’s capital. Was it symbolic of a great threat to come, or did it have a more literal meaning?
Shadowmere beckoned for Berry to follow him, and the two of them left the throne room again, this time ending up in a moonlit grotto. Thankfully, the moon here was normal, and it cast a cool and reassuring light on the cavern. As the duo trotted forward, the light glinted off a massive sword planted in the ground at the center of the grotto. Their steps halted when a deafening howl went up in the distance.
A gigantic wolf vaulted over the edge of the grotto and bounded to the sword, grabbing it in its teeth and yanking it from the ground. Berry and Shadowmere ducked as a blade the length of a train car whistled over their heads. Looking around frantically, Berry realized that there was no way out of the grotto, including the now non-existent door they had come through. Her thoughts on the strangeness of traversing a landscape that constantly changed were jolted from her head as the wolf brought down the sword between her and Shadowmere, sending chips of stone and the two ponies flying.
Berry drew her crossbow, but after firing a few shots—including explosive ones—at the wolf and seeing it brush them off, she gave up on hurting it. The beast seemed more concerned with keeping Berry and Shadowmere apart than killing them, as it had many chances to strike them and instead chose to separate them with a swing of its sword or a swipe from its massive paws. Only when they were apart did it try to kill them, and always with its gigantic weapon.
Trying to break free of this perpetual dance on the edge of death, Shadowmere began to gallop as fast as he could along the edge of the grotto, and, suspecting his intent, Beryl followed his lead and galloped the other way. When they met, the wolf brought its sword down and the blade sank through the grotto wall, halting as it became stuck. When it tried to pull it free, it shifted the rock and a crevasse was formed; a way out.
Giving up on the sword, the wolf took a position in front of the escape route and snapped with its massive teeth at Beryl and Shadowmere as they galloped for the crevasse. Beryl conjured her magic sword into existence and swung it fluidly as they reached the wolf’s head, slicing through its left eye. Howling in pain, the wolf stumbled out of the way and pawed at its wounded eye, which now somehow had an eyepatch over it. Shadowmere seemed like he wanted to pause for a moment, but then carried on galloping, and he and Berry left the grotto side by side.
Berry came to a halt as she found herself standing on the streets of Canterlot under a dark, storm-cloud filled sky. There was nopony around to be seen, and the feeling that the city was deserted hung heavily in the air. She was standing on Monument Lane, Canterlot’s main road from the city’s entrance to the castle, but there were no carriages clogging it as there normally would be. The massive statues that lined the road were not surrounded by tourists snapping photos, and the food carts at the bases that catered to them were nonexistent.
Around Berry were the six largest (and some said oldest) statues that lined Monument Lane: sculptures of the Six Founders of Equestria. Princess Platinum, Commander Hurricane, Chancellor Puddinghead, Clover the Clever, Private Pansy, and Smart Cookie all looked down at the road. Then they turned to look at Berry.
The statues of the Founders were all alive, though their hooves appeared to be rooted in place and their movements were slow and ponderous, as one would expect from statues of such great size. As lightning flashed across the sky, Berry got a better look at their faces and realized that each and every one was actually a porcelain mask sculpted to match their appearances perfectly. From behind the mask, Beryl could see blood dripping down over the statues’ jaws, though whether it was their blood or if the blood was dripping from their mouths, she couldn’t tell.
Darkness descended over the street as the Founders loomed closer, and Berry was worried what was coming next. Nothing came next, though, as Beryl found herself lying on the sofa in Shadowmere’s sitting room. Her eyes fluttered open, and she sat upright, a bit dazed from being returned to reality so quickly from the dreamscape. The crystal ball on the table between them was now clear, the last residue of smoke fading away.
“How are we supposed to learn anything from that madness?” Berry said after a long silence.
“Indeed, traversing the dreamscape is merely the first step,” Shadowmere replied, “We may never understand everything we encountered there, but we can begin by piecing things together that we can understand to get a better view of what’s coming. Dietrep tried to focus the trance, and thus also the dreamscape on the most urgent and immediate threat, so we’re more likely to figure that out than anything else because we’ll have more pieces to work with.”
“I think that the danger is going to occur today,” Berry said thoughtfully, “At least, the Hearth’s Warming Eve sale and the Founders at the end seem to suggest so.”
“Good; we can work with this,” Shadowmere said, “I think I know what we’re up against: a crossroads lobgoblin.”
“Explain,” Berry said as she tried to determine how he’d come to such a conclusion. Thanks to 1008 Creatures of Romanean Folklore , she wasn’t entirely in the dark as to what a lobgoblin was.
“I first suspected it might be a possibility in the Mall of Equestria, when the price for a book of tales was one soul. The theater of very attentive skeletons confirmed it, and the card-dealing pony suggests that it’s a crossroads lobgoblin we’re dealing with.”
It was probably the sturdiest argument they were going to get, and it made sense. Lobgoblins were known for luring ponies in with fantastical stories and entrancing them before stealing their souls. Crossroads lobgoblins were simply a subset that tended to also materialize at crossroads and offer ponies deals where they would grant them anything they wanted in return for their eternal soul. Their gifts were almost always tainted, and when the ponies they’d dealt with came to complain, the lobgoblin would offer to tell them a tale, then collect their souls early.
“I think I know where the lobgoblin is going to be!” Beryl said with a start as she came to a realization, “The Hearth’s Warming Eve references weren’t just about the date. In the Mall of Equestria, ponies were frantic to buy something only offered today, the Six Founders of Equestria were the only things featured on Monument Lane, and then we have the empty theater. The lobgoblin is going to strike at the Hearth’s Warming Eve pageant.” And Celestia might be there.
“It makes sense, but is that it?” Shadowmere said contemplatively.
“What do you mean?”
“Lobgoblins don’t touch their victims’ bodies, but the audience was picked clean.”
“Maybe they don’t eat their victims, but it could have companions that do,” Berry said as her mind began to race, putting things together, “In fact, I’m almost sure that it does, and that it’s done this before. Two nights ago in Manehattan, a ‘gas leak’ in a theater killed 60 ponies, but I don’t think it was a gas leak at all. I think that the lobgoblin stole their souls, and the Ministry was covering up the truth. Yesterday, the remains of a pony were found on the road from Manehattan to Canterlot, devoured and hidden beneath a wagon belonging to a Manehattan acting troupe. I’d be willing to bet that same acting troupe was performing at that Manehattan theater, and is now preparing to perform the Hearth’s Warming Eve pageant at the Canterlot Royal Theatre.”
“Performing already,” Shadowmere said as he stared ahead intensely.
“What?”
“Look at the time,” the stallion said as he sprang to his hooves, “The pageant’s started by now.”
Berry jumped up as well and saw that he was telling the truth. While they were in the dreamscape it hadn’t seemed like that much time had passed, but it was now surely after sundown, and the Canterlot Royal Theatre had been packed for almost an hour. When would the lobgoblin choose to strike? Were they too late already? They couldn’t worry about these unknowns as they quickly grabbed their things and left Shadowmere’s apartments. Whether they were late or not, they still had a duty to catch the lobgoblin before it could get away again. Berry just hoped they weren’t too late for Celestia’s sake.
***
It was quiet in the Canterlot Royal Theatre, but just in case it was a low part of the play, Beryl slowly opened the door. It was a Ministry agent’s job to cause no disturbances whenever possible, and if she could defeat the lobgoblin without the audience knowing anything was amiss, all the better. At the moment, she didn’t look much like a Ministry agent, the situation being too urgent for her to retrieve her uniform, but hopefully ponies would respect a mare with a loaded crossbow and ammunition for it slung across her chest.
Within the theater, the seats were filled with ponies transfixed by the play, or by something anyway. Their blank stares and glazed eyes told Beryl all she needed to know, and she sprung through the door without a moment’s hesitation, pointing her crossbow at the stage. Onstage were six ponies dressed as the Six Founders, only halfheartedly acting out the story of the first Hearth’s Warming Eve now that the audience was completely docile. In the middle of them was a cloaked lobgoblin that had thrown its hood back to reveal its face. Faintly, here and there, Beryl could see trails leading from ponies in the audience to the lobgoblin’s gaping mouth as it siphoned away their souls. Beryl leveled her crossbow at the center of the stage and fired.
The lobgoblin’s eyes twitched as it spotted Beryl, and it somersaulted backwards as crossbow bolt sped toward him. The quarrel struck the stage right where the lobgoblin had been standing a second earlier and exploded, sending splinters of the stage flying in all directions and a blue-tinted fireball billowing upwards. One of the lobgoblin’s companions (the actor playing Clover the Clever) was struck by the fireball and didn’t rise from where it had fallen on the stage. A few moments later, the pony transformed; its coat changed color, its hooves turned to clawed paws, and its jaw widened to accommodate a multitude of pointed teeth. It was a brownie, without a doubt, which Beryl also knew from 1008 Creatures of Romanean Folklore.
As Shadowmere and Beryl advanced toward the stage down separate aisles, the rest of the actors shed their disguises and transformed into brownies. The masked and bloodied Founders from the dreamscape now seemed to make far more sense as brownies dressed as the Six Founders began to clamber down from the stage. Beryl fired her crossbow as one dressed as Chancellor Puddinghead scampered toward her. The bolt went through the creature’s eye, but it continued on, until it pounced at Beryl and she sliced its head clean off with her magic sword.
“Daybreak, to me!” she heard Shadowmere call as he summoned a sword of his own.
Beryl skewered another brownie with her sword before yanking the blade up and through its shoulder, and it flopped to the ground. Shadowmere had dispatched one brownie with Daybreak, but two more were closing in on him. Beryl pointed her crossbow at the pair and fired off an explosive bolt, praying that it would strike the brownies and not the audience. The explosion was smaller than the first one (she was taking as few chances as possible with the safety of Equestrian citizens), but one of the brownies was completely consumed. The other jumped nimbly out of the way and began to run across the backs of the theater’s seats toward Beryl.
The wingless Commander Hurricane dodged two shots from her crossbow, then sidestepped her sword when it came in melee range. Beryl tried to get a hit in with her sword, but kept failing, and she was no more successful in trying to strike with sword and crossbow at the same time. She jumped back as the brownie’s paw raked her side, easily tearing through her unenchanted civilian clothing and slicing four deep trails in her flesh. Beryl gritted her teeth as she went on the defensive, trying to keep the brownie away from her as she backstepped and tried to fashion a makeshift bandage for her wounds with her scarf.
There was no gaining back the initiative once she was finished, though; the brownie had the upper hoof now and wasn’t going to return it unless it slipped up. She continued to fend off its attacks until it sank its claws into her other side. Moving swiftly, she managed to pin its foreleg against her (and the claws in her flesh) and swung her magic sword up. The brownie swiped at her head with its free paw, but she ducked out of the way and all it got was her stocking cap. The brownie had missed its chance to kill her, and it would never get another one, as her sword sliced upwards and cut the creature nearly in half.
Beryl groaned as the halves of its body fell to the ground and the claws pulled out of her side. Before she could bleed out too much, she grabbed pieces of the brownie’s costume and wrapped them over her injury. Wincing as she did so, she turned to face the stage where Shadowmere was facing off against the lobgoblin. The monster’s agility was its strength, and Shadowmere deprived it of that strength by hacking off the ends of its long, spindly legs, bringing it down to his height. The lobgoblin appeared to increase its efforts to steal the audience’s souls in its last moments, and Shadowmere thrust Daybreak through its open mouth and out the back of its head. A greasy stain was left on the blade as the lobgoblin slid off and fell to the stage with a thud.
Beryl looked around frantically at the audience, which was no longer staring at the stage. Each and every pony was slumped over motionless in their seats. When she examined them, though, she saw with relief that they were still breathing. She looked up through the audience, but saw no sign of Celestia. It appeared Equestria’s princess had chosen to skip the Hearth’s Warming Eve pageant this year, for which Beryl was grateful.
“Berry, get up here,” Shadowmere called from the stage, and she turned around and trotted up to him, holding a hoof to her most wounded side.
“Do you know what this is?” he asked as he held up a silver amulet that had been around the lobgoblin’s neck.
Beryl took it from him and examined it more closely. It was old, and the design on it was intricately detailed. The amulet turned out to also be a locket, and Beryl carefully opened it up to take a look inside. Within was a small scrap of parchment covered in writing she couldn’t decipher and a tiny bundle of dried grass.
“This is the lobgoblin’s home talisman,” Beryl said as she passed it back to Shadowmere, “This is meant to guide it back to the land it was born in, and to prove it belonged to a clan.”
“It’s also enchanted,” Shadowmere said, and Beryl immediately understood the implications, “The spell is hard to detect, but far from impossible. A lobgoblin’s home talisman is tied deeply to them in more than just a physical way; it’s a link to their soul. This enchantment has allowed somepony to take possession of this lobgoblin and use it for their own purposes.”
“Our mutual friends who sent the gargoyles, tantibus, and djinn our way?” Beryl asked.
“I aim to find out,” Shadowmere said solemnly, “I’ll need to do some research, and also travel to this lobgoblin’s homeland. I don’t know how long I’ll be gone, but it will probably be months at least. While I’m away, I want you to have access to my chambers beneath Rosethorn Hall for anything you need.”
He passed Beryl a very old and rusted key, and she accepted it, tucking it into her ruined coat’s pocket.
“I don’t need to explain how important it is that we find whoever’s responsible for these attacks as soon as possible,” Shadowmere said before looking out at the slumbering audience, “I trust you have everything handled here, Ministry agent. Stay safe.”
***
Beryl waited nervously outside Canterlot Castle’s throne room. The wounds hidden beneath her Ministry uniform were still bothering her, but now it was more of an itch than pain. The Ministry had responded swiftly once Beryl notified them of what had happened at the Canterlot Royal Theatre (though she’d of course left out the details regarding Shadowmere), and all members of the audience were examined and found to be in perfect physical condition, with no memory of the incident except that “the last half of the play sucked.” Even after saving the lives of over a hundred ponies, though, the Ministry still refused to extend her vacation, and she returned to work one week later as planned. Her first assignment: report directly to Celestia.
“Celestia is ready to see you now,” the princess’s assistant—Raven according to the nameplate on her desk—announced.
Beryl rose and approached the towering golden doors, which swung upon easily with a push (obviously enchanted). It was a long walk from the throne room’s entrance to the throne, a journey past towering columns and beautiful stained-glass windows. Surprisingly, Celestia was not seated in her throne. Instead, the monarch stood just a few paces within the room. Beryl paused as the doors slammed shut behind her.
“You wanted to speak with me, your Highness?” Beryl asked, giving a slight bow.
“Yes, I wanted to personally thank you for saving all those ponies on Hearth’s Warming Eve,” Celestia said, exuding all the regality one would expect from an immortal monarch that moved the heavenly bodies with her magic.
“It was my honor, your Highness. I’m just glad that I was in the right place at the right time to step in,” Beryl said, at a bit of a loss for words. Celestia is taking the time to thank me personally!
“You went above and beyond the call of duty, acting while you were technically not on duty. I admire that, and I’m also glad that you were there at that time. I shudder to think of what might have happened had things transpired differently,” Celestia said, “Did you know that I was seriously considering attending the Hearth’s Warming Eve pageant this year?”
“I had heard rumors,” Beryl admitted.
“I assure you that they were quite true,” Celestia said as she trotted over to face a stained-glass window, and Beryl followed her, “My two closest advisors both had very strong opinions on the subject—opposing opinions—but I ultimately chose to go with whom I trusted more.”
Two closest advisors? One of them was certainly Director Thistleback, but who was the second? Malthus? Could Malthus have known about the lobgoblin and attempted to assassinate Celestia? No, these were crazy questions, and Beryl knew she was jumping to too many conclusions. There was no proof that Malthus was involved, much less plotting something. Still, the seed was planted in her mind, and the thought refused to go away.
***
“You fool! What were you thinking?” one of the statues atop the Moon Tower berated another while a third watched on in silence.
“I was merely attempting to forward our plan,” the second figure replied as it stretched its bat-wings, “I was under the impression that our goal was to kill Celestia.”
“None of that matters if we’re caught before Her return!” the first—the leader of the trio—said, “We have a flawless plan to execute, and we’ve ensured that nothing will be able to interfere with it. With these actions you’ve taken, you’ve endangered the whole operation. It was sloppy and irresponsible.”
“I’m sorry if I’m eager to take my revenge-”
“That’s not the issue here,” the leader cut him off, “We will have our revenge when the time is right. When Nightfall recruited you to our cause, it was to assist in the execution of a predetermined plan. Now will you follow the plan or not?”
“I will, and I apologize for my actions,” the new bat-pony said, yielding to the leader’s will.
“Thank you. And be patient; we will have our revenge,” the leader replied, “We’ve waited nine hundred ninety-nine and a half years; what’s six months more?”
The hour was late – closer to morning than evening – so there were no ponies able to witness the massive wolf stalking the streets of Canterlot. The colossal paw prints left in the thin layer of snow that coated the cobblestones would disappear as the snow turned to slush and melted into the gutters with the light of the coming day. None would be aware of the momentous event that had occurred while they were sound asleep in their beds. For the first time in a century, a werewolf roamed the streets of Canterlot.
For this particular werewolf, it had been over three hundred years since the last time he had been in this city. Things had certainly changed since then. Most of the buildings that he remembered were gone, torn down to make way for more modern structures. The factories and mills were gone, those jobs moved to Stalliongrad in the goal of making Canterlot a cleaner city. Crime was on the decline, to the point that constables no longer stalked the streets at night in pairs with a lantern and crossbow between them. This bothered the werewolf none; it made it easier for him to move unseen. This city would soon cease to exist, anyway. It would all be torn down, and a new city rooted in the old ways would take its place.
After traversing paths known only to a few, the werewolf found a more familiar setting. Here, the homes were placed irregularly and streets meandered. The buildings were sagging and decrepit, but still held some of the old dignity inherent in their architecture. Three centuries earlier, this place had mirrored Canterlot, but while the equine city had moved on, this city had been left to rot. The werewolf ran his claws lovingly along the walls as he moved down the streets; this was his city, and it would not be taken from him again.
He had traveled all the way from the mountains beyond Saddle Arabia on the feeling that now was his time. Even if he failed, he knew that he had to return to Canterlot and begin again what he’d been forced to leave undone three hundred years ago. He had expected his chance of success to be slim, but fortune appeared to be in his favor. When he’d slunk past Rosethorn Hall earlier, he had sensed nothing of its resident, only foals and old mares. Now was the time; it had to be.
As the clouds over Canterlot drifted away, a nearly full moon shone down on the pool in the center of his city, bathing everything in cool moonlight. The werewolf basked in it, a smile gracing his muzzle. He removed the satchel from over his shoulder and let the massive sword strapped to his back fall to the ground. From the satchel, he removed a worn book and stepped out into the pool. Once he reached its center, he removed the eyepatch from over his left eye and began to recite the rhythmic growling recorded in the tome he held. At its conclusion, the werewolf threw his head back and let out a howl loud enough to wake the dead.
All across Canterlot, ponies were awakened by a howl that had ended by the time they were fully conscious. Yet, that would not be the last of it. Werewolves all across Equestria would hear that howl and recognize its significance. The werewolf in the pool snapped the book in his claws closed. Let it begin.
Darkest Shadows
***
Across Canterlot, Beryl Fields was engaged in battle with an amphiptere. Over the past few nights, Beryl had tracked the winged serpent as it moved from cemetery to cemetery, feasting on corpses, and had finally cornered it in this alley. It was unable to escape now; a magical chain from Shadowmere’s stash of weapons secured it to the ground. Beryl followed the beast with her crossbow as it yanked at the end of the chain and flapped from wall to wall in an attempt to escape.
Beryl was taken off guard as the werewolf’s howl sounded across the city. It was like nothing she’d ever heard before, and her instinctive response was to turn her head in an attempt to locate its source. The amphiptere took advantage of that moment of distraction and darted toward the Ministry agent, the blade at the end of its tail slicing through her uniform and her shoulder. The intense pain from the gash brought her instantly back to the moment, and her magical sword blazed into existence before chopping off the amphiptere’s head.
As the monster’s body twitched on the ground, Beryl dropped her crossbow and tried to staunch the bleeding. Her saddlebags were resting nearby, and she withdrew some bandages from them to rapidly bind her wound. After moving the amphiptere’s corpse behind some trash cans and putting the chain trap back into her saddlebags, Beryl departed the scene; her makeshift bandaging job wouldn’t last forever.
A wave of dizziness hit her as she reached Rosethorn Hall, and she realized that she’d been poisoned. She had antidotes in her saddlebags for amphiptere venom, but she stumbled down the stairs to Shadowmere’s apartments before she could get to them. The vials spilled from her saddlebags and rolled across the floor as she landed at the foot of the stairs. She tried to retrieve them, but her magic fizzled out, disabled by the poison. Beryl dragged her body to the closest vial and pulled it open with her teeth, slurping as much of the antidote into her mouth as possible. After a few minutes, she could move again, and righted herself before entering Shadowmere’s hideout.
It had been nearly two months since Shadowmere had left to investigate the lobgoblin’s talisman, but his apartments had not been going unused. Beryl had spent more time here than at her own home, looking through resources Shadowmere owned, but not the Ministry. She had solved several cases in that time that the Ministry hadn’t assigned her, and in several others that they had, she had been greatly helped by Shadowmere’s books and tools.
Beryl threw her saddlebags onto the sofa as she trotted through the sitting room and picked up a stack of books, adding some bandages to them before leaving the room. Her fall down the stairs had caused her bandages to come loose which needed to be retied, but first she wanted to reach her destination. She followed the passageways to a room with walls of crystal and sat down with her stack of books. Within this room, the healing process was accelerated. Beryl rewrapped her wound and cracked open a book to where she’d left off before the business with the amphiptere drew her attention. A few minutes later, she was asleep, and with any luck would be fully healed by the time she woke up.
***
“Hey, Berry!” Roaring Thunder’s voice cut out across the Ministry’s foyer, causing Beryl to flinch.
After sleeping off her injury in the healing room, Beryl returned to the Ministry to notify the cleanup crews that the amphiptere’s body needed to be removed from the alley where she’d stashed it. Next, she had written up her report on the case and submitted it for approval. Having just finished a case, she decided to take the rest of the day off to recover from her sleep deprivation from previous nights and do some more research. However, it seemed that Roaring Thunder wasn’t going to let her leave in silence. Why does he insist on always talking to me? He knows I can’t stand him, so why does he continue to follow me around?
“Did you hear that howl last night?” the pegasus asked as he did a flip and landed next to Beryl.
“I was in the middle of a fight and it nearly cost me my life,” Beryl replied as she increased her pace toward the Ministry’s exit.
“What do you think it came from?” Roaring Thunder asked as he cantered along, “I’ve never heard anything like it before.”
“I don’t know, but I’m sure somepony is looking into it,” Beryl replied, desperate to escape and begin looking into the matter herself.
“Agent Beryl Fields,” Siren’s Song drew her attention away as she neared the Ministry’s exit, “May I have a word with you?”
Beryl had no idea why the Deputy Director would need to speak with her, but at least it would provide her with an excuse to leave Roaring Thunder behind. The pegasus seemed to take the hint without her saying anything, and glided over to another group of agents to gossip about the howl everypony had heard. Siren’s Song trotted over to meet Beryl, her latest report in his magical grip.
“What’s this I see about you leaving a monster’s corpse on the streets of Canterlot for nearly four hours?” he asked as he flipped through the report, “I thought you knew protocol better than this.”
“Yes, sir,” Beryl said apologetically, “I had more pressing matters at the time and felt that the amphiptere’s corpse wouldn’t be discovered where I had hidden it. I was badly injured, you see-”
“Injured!” Siren’s Song exclaimed, “Why didn’t you mention this in your report?”
“I didn’t think it was worth mentioning, sir,” Beryl explained, “I patched myself up and used a robust regenerative potion to heal my wound. The injury won’t interfere with my duty.”
She hoped that this would be enough of an explanation. Shadowmere’s healing room repaired flesh far better than any healing potion the Ministry had at its disposal. She didn’t even have a scar, just a part in her coat that would quickly disappear. Thankfully, Beryl had had the foresight to anticipate a situation like this arising and had checked out several robust regenerative potions from the Ministry’s supply stores to use as an excuse. As long as they didn’t examine her body, her secret was safe.
“You of all ponies can’t afford any slip-ups like this,” Siren’s Song sighed, “Director Thistleback still holds a grudge against you, and she’ll use this omission as an excuse to deny you the elevated privileges I know you deserve. Please promise me that you’ll be more careful in following protocol until the Director moves on, at least when it comes to filling out reports.”
“Sorry, sir; it won’t happen again,” Beryl promised, and the Deputy Director nodded and walked away.
***
After leaving the Ministry, Beryl returned to Shadowmere’s rooms beneath Rosethorn Hall. Though months had passed, it was still odd not seeing the stallion here, seated in his chair reading an ancient tome or emerging from one of the doors which led to places Beryl still didn't know about. The immortal stallion’s library was a mess, books about amphipteres covering the tables, and Beryl put them all back in their places before beginning her next search for knowledge.
“Howl,” she said aloud, using a spell she’d learned from a Ministry agent who worked in the records department, and books throughout the library began to glow.
As usual when searching something so general, there were far too many books to go through them all, so Berry moved up and down the stacks, selecting the ones that looked to be the most helpful. By the time she was done, she still had a large pile to sift through, so she began to eliminate possibilities. First to go were monsters that were definitely extinct, followed by those presumed extinct. These books didn’t go straight back to the shelves, instead ending up in a separate pile in case Berry needed to come back to them. She still remembered the first case that had led her to Shadowmere, and gargoyles weren’t the only extinct creature that could conceivably return. Likewise, monsters that avoided cities were also discarded only tentatively, for the ponies that had brought the country-dwelling lobgoblin to Canterlot could try the same trick a second time.
“Amarok,” Berry used the spell again to divide up the remaining books based on the three monsters she’d narrowed it down to, “Heart o’ the Mountain, werewolf.”
Book by book, Berry worked her way through the stacks of ancient tomes, searching for some mention of a howl like the one she’d heard the night before. It didn’t take her too long before she convinced herself that it hadn’t come from an amarok. These wolves were so large that it would have been impossible for somepony not to have seen them, and they only howled after a kill. If somepony (or more likely some ponies) had been murdered the night before, the news would have reached the Ministry quickly. Amaroks also were natives of extremely snowy areas, and though some suitably frigid locations could probably be found in the mountains around Canterlot, this year’s early thaw would make such a creature uncomfortable, at the very least.
A Heart o’ the Mountain didn’t seem any more likely a suspect after digging through the books on the monster. These wolves of molten rock dwelt at the heart of active volcanoes and surrounding lava plains, and would find Canterlot’s current weather as unsuitable as an amarok would. That alone couldn’t rule them out, though. Their howl was nothing spectacular aside from shooting out sparks and occasionally flaming flint, and was noted as being surprisingly quiet given the beasts’ size. There was also the matter that Hearts o’ the Mountain always hunted in packs and howled in packs, one author making the point that “a Heart o’ the Mountain never howls alone.” It was possible that a Heart o’ the Mountain in Canterlot was the last of its pack, but it was a stretch, given the other indicators against it.
Finally, Berry turned to the option she’d originally wanted to reject because it was so . . . pedestrian. Werewolves and other lycanthropes were nothing special for Ministry agents, and the fact that no werewolves had been seen in Canterlot in centuries didn’t change the fact that they were a mandatory subject during training. Werewolves were as well understood as vampires, but that thought gave Berry pause. Just recently she’d learned something new about vampires that she’d never gotten a hint of in her Ministry training, so maybe werewolves weren’t as well-known as she thought either. Thinking back, the howl the night before had sounded similar to a werewolf’s, except that it was far too loud and had a strange resonating quality that was hard to describe.
The stack of books on werewolves was taller than the other two, most likely because there was so much on them, unlike the usual too little. Bravely, Berry plowed ahead, paging through the many tomes looking for something to explain the howl she’d heard. She picked up a few new things about werewolves in her reading, mainly small things like ways to injure, trap, or kill them. She began moving more quickly as she searched fruitlessly, sometimes skipping over entire chapters before forcing herself to go back and look through them lest she miss some vital clue by accident.
When she finally found what she was searching for, she didn’t even realize it at first, and had to flip back a few pages to find where she had seen the word "howl" written “Howl.” The book was Werewolf Culture , and Berry had found information on the Howl in the section on lore and legends werewolves had about themselves. Flipping back and reading more closely, Berry learned about the legendary Spitze Wolf that some werewolves believed would one day come and unite all werewolves into one kingdom. Werewolves were usually solitary creatures, and Berry found it odd that she had never heard anything about them attempting to unite in a society. Then again, the Ministry was more concerned with killing them than learning their history and prophecy.
The Howl was a special ability only extremely powerful werewolves could do. When a werewolf believed they were the destined Spitze Wolf, they would use the Howl to announce it to all werewolves and summon them to crown him their king. According to Werewolf Culture , several attempts had been made by werewolves in history to name themselves Spitze Wolf, but all had failed. The Howl had been used less and less often over time as werewolves became discouraged by the prospect of ever finding the true Spitze Wolf with the power to unite them. In the author’s opinion, they’d lost all stomach for even attempting it after a Howl nearly three millennia ago when the werewolves had gathered only to be slaughtered by the Paladins of Order, who used Argol’s Treachery to track down the meeting. Of course, the book was itself two and a half millennia old; it was possible that potential Spitze Wolves had appeared since then, but there was no record of them.
The story of Argol’s Treachery was also included in Werewolf Culture , and it didn’t take Berry long to locate it. Apparently Argol was a werewolf unable to hear the Howl emitted by his brethren, and so he created an artifact that would guide him to the werewolf who performed the Howl. The other werewolves, however, saw this as a betrayal, that Argol was attempting to expose the Spitze Wolf to attacks by non-lycans, and tried to hunt him down. Hounded by his own kind for trying to overcome his disability and participate in the creation of a werewolf kingdom, Argol eventually did turn traitor. The artifact, which came to be called Argol’s Treachery , was passed from pony to pony over time until eventually coming into the possession of the Paladins of Order.
Berry examined a sketch of Argol’s Treachery in the book. It appeared to be a simple amulet carved in an angular representation of a wolf’s head, the fur formed by intertwining runes. Taking the book with her, Berry left the library and made her way to the many rooms Shadowmere used to store artifacts. She was only slightly surprised when she located an amulet identical to the sketch in the book sitting on a shelf in one of the rooms. She had difficulty determining exactly what material Argol’s Treachery was made of, but it appeared to be some kind of wood, though it was denser and tougher than any kind of wood she’d ever seen; in fact, it was denser and tougher than most metals she’d seen. There was a peg jutting from the wall where it was presumably supposed to hang, but Berry draped it around her neck instead. If it really worked like in the book, perhaps it would be helpful to track down the werewolf if he performed the Howl again.
Beryl was returning to her table of books when she noticed that one tome on the bookshelves was glowing faintly. It was tucked in the back corner near the floor, and she had to give it a good tug to pull it free of the other books crushing it. It hadn’t been glowing earlier when she’d walked through looking for books, that was for certain. The glow seemed just a bit brighter after she released her magic on it and set the book down.
“Howl,” she tried repeating her earlier spell, but there was no change in the tome’s glow.
“Werewolf,” she tried then, after seeing that the title etched into the book’s black leather cover was The Lycanthrope Kingdom .
The book practically blazed with light then, and she had to look away for a few seconds before it died down. Berry’s magic had clearly triggered the glow, but the aura coming from the book was its own. Tentatively, she opened herself up to sense magic, and was met with roiling waves of energy gradually dying down as the glow faded. At the center of this moving energy was a very dense magical core, as if the book itself was nothing more than a super condensed block of pure magic. Steeling herself for what she might find, Berry opened the cover of the book.
It was blank. So was the next page, and the next. Every single page in The Lycanthrope Kingdom was nothing more than a plain sheet of aged parchment. Yet, clearly the book had some significance, and nopony would ever enchant a book so thoroughly without using it to record anything, would they? If the book’s intended purpose wasn’t a repository of knowledge, then why had Shadowmere kept it in the library and not in some other room?
A slight tingling in her teeth was the only warning Berry had before the amulet around her neck suddenly jerked forward, levitating in midair. A second later, the barely audible sound of the Howl reached her through Rosethorn Hall and the packed earth around Shadowmere’s apartments. Given how Argol’s Treachery was reacting, there was no more room for doubt that the monster she was dealing with was a werewolf. The Ministry agent grabbed her gear, including plenty of silver crossbow bolts, on her way out, following the pull of Argol’s Treachery .
***
Beryl moved slowly ahead, but with a sense of urgency. The levitating amulet had led her down into Canterlot’s sewers, where there wasn’t much room to maneuver, compelling her to advance cautiously. Argol’s Treachery was also beginning to dip, however, suggesting that the effect would soon wear off, urging her to hurry before that happened. A globe of light at the end of her horn illuminated the area around her, but not much farther. Werewolves could see perfectly well in low-light conditions, meaning that the Ministry agent would be at a disadvantage. To compensate, she had her crossbow out in front of her, already loaded and ready to fire at a moment’s notice. So long as she could react faster than a werewolf could attack, all would be well.
As she was passing a ladder to the surface, Argol’s Treachery twitched a few times, began to swing to the left, then fell limp. Now Beryl had to be extra careful. Before, the amulet told her exactly which direction her prey was in, but no longer. The werewolf could come from any direction without notice. It was also likely that the beast was close, assuming the shift in direction at the end had occurred separately from the amulet losing its effect.
Beryl thought she heard growls and snorts echoing through the sewers, but couldn’t be sure of the direction or authenticity of the noises. Shuffling and splashing water came from somewhere, but was impossible to pinpoint. Beryl swung back and forth with her light and her crossbow, checking up and down the sewer passage. The faint sound of claws scraping against stone was the only warning she received.
The werewolf launched himself from behind and above, having closed in on Beryl by propping his legs and arms against the sewer walls and scurrying along. A low growl escaped the beast’s throat as he slashed at the mare with wickedly sharp claws. Beryl spun quickly and released her crossbow bolt as she rolled away, sewer water splashing around her. The bolt missed its mark, speeding through the hair on the werewolf’s shoulder instead of through his heart.
The lycanthrope landed heavily in the water as Beryl put some distance between them. Slowly it rose into that awkward stance unique to werewolves. Both wild wolves and the pony it had been before being bitten walked on four legs, but the unnaturally wide torso and long forearms made that pose uncomfortable to werewolves, and it stood on two feet, its body slightly hunched over. As it opened its maw to reveal prominent canines, Beryl noticed the eyepatch over its left eye and the scar that crossed it.
Swiftly, Beryl loaded another silver bolt into her crossbow and fired it at the werewolf. The creature dodged to the side while it drew a sword from its back nearly as long as its body. Her next bolt was batted away with the flat of the blade, as were the next two silver bolts that she fired. Beryl summoned a magic blade as the werewolf charged her, and used it to block his initial swing.
“A Ministry agent; now this will be fun,” the werewolf laughed as he leaned in toward Beryl, his blade pressing hers back.
A silver knife flew from Beryl’s side as she levitated its point toward the werewolf. Seeing the deadly silver approaching, the beast jumped back, but not before the blade cut a shallow gash in his shoulder. The werewolf jumped back in, greatsword in both claws brought down in a heavy swipe at Beryl’s head. Her magical blade absorbed the blow, but flickered and sputtered, indicating that this was no ordinary sword that had struck it. As Beryl tried to strike the werewolf again with her knife, he removed one of his claws from the sword’s hilt and snatched the blade out of the air. Blood gushed from where the silver had impaled his palm, but he showed no sign of pain and threw the knife behind him, far down the sewer tunnel and out of Beryl’s telekinetic reach.
As the werewolf’s bloody claw shot out toward her, she jumped back and reconsidered her options. In her rush to get to the werewolf before Argol’s Treachery became inactive, she hadn’t thought to bring more than one silver knife. She still had plenty of silver crossbow bolts, but they wouldn’t be able to pierce the werewolf’s flesh without the force of a crossbow behind them, and she was too close to attempt to use her ranged weapon without the risk of losing it.
She had no more time to reconsider a plan as the werewolf launched himself at her, using the sewer wall to catapult in from the side. Beryl ducked down and rolled beneath the werewolf as he somersaulted over her, and she was barely able to dodge the swing of his greatsword as he spun it around behind his back with one arm. As the werewolf spun around to face her, he brought his greatsword up at Beryl, and she deflected the blow with her magic blade, pouring extra energy into it so that it could withstand the assault from the beast’s weapon.
The two circled each other, making jabs with sword and claw whenever they detected an opening. Each time, they were blocked or forced to withdraw to avoid overextending themselves. As the fight dragged on, the werewolf grew more and more irate, until with a snarl he charged in toward Beryl. Spinning his sword around, he used it as a shield for his forearm and as a barrier to smash into the mare. Beryl ducked down and began to swing her magic blade up at the exposed underside of the werewolf’s arm until she saw his other, bloody claw darting out toward her throat.
Quickly, she withdrew her blade and jumped backward, and the werewolf grabbed not her neck, but Argol’s Treachery as it flailed out away from her body. The werewolf paused as it felt the amulet and didn’t pursue while Beryl was vulnerable. She began to steel herself for his next attack, and was entirely unprepared when he dropped his guard, the tip of his greatsword dipping into the sewer water. Holding onto the string, he let Argol’s Treachery drop and dangle from his right claw. His eyes were unreadable as he stared at the bloody wolf’s head.
“Where did you get this?” the werewolf said icily, all the fiery passion in his voice earlier extinguished.
Beryl didn’t respond, but didn’t let her guard down either. This werewolf knew about the Ministry; did he know about Shadowmere, too? Was he merely surprised to find Argol’s Treachery , or did his tone suggest a deeper meaning? Or, could this be merely a trap to lure her into relaxing?
“I know what pony this belonged to last, and you are not he,” the werewolf said as he fixed Beryl with a stare that would have fixed her in place had she not already resolved to stay firmly planted until the werewolf made a move that announced his intentions.
She had put some significant distance between herself and the werewolf, so it would probably be safe to use her crossbow at this range, at least to get a single shot off. In the state the werewolf was in, a single shot might even be enough to kill. Yet, something stopped Beryl from drawing her weapon and firing. It seemed that this werewolf might know something about the enigmatic stallion she was working with. Could it hurt to wait and see what he had to say?
“Very well; go on and protect him then, like a fool,” the werewolf said, taking on a haughty tone as he stood straighter and hunched his shoulders back, “If I see you again, I’ll kill you, but for now I’ll leave you with this warning. Don’t trust Shadowmere. I did, and this is how he repaid that trust.”
With a single digit, the werewolf pointed at his eyepatch. Something clicked then in Beryl’s mind. A wolf; Shadowmere swinging a sword; an eyepatch. The werewolf was telling the truth, a truth that had been partially revealed in the dreamscape Beryl and Shadowmere had traversed together. He’d said that it was a mix of their memories, an intersection of past, present, and future. So, this was the wolf he had slashed through the eye. It made sense for Shadowmere, a professional monster hunter, to attack a werewolf, so why did the werewolf consider this to be a betrayal? Could it be? Had Shadowmere been an accomplice to him?
The werewolf wrapped Argol’s Treachery to his sword’s hilt before sheathing it and bounding off on all fours into the darkness. Beryl broke herself from her daze and pulled out her crossbow before he was out of sight. Galloping after the werewolf, she fired two shots at him, both missing. Soon he had disappeared beyond the range of what Beryl could see. She tried to track him using his magical trail, but this werewolf had been trained in how to obscure his aura, and the trail swiftly faded away. She would never find him in the maze that was the Canterlot sewer system, but she tried anyway, following the faintest sounds echoing off the walls.
She was prepared to give up, when a shadowy figure charged out of a side tunnel just ahead of her. Instinctively, Beryl brought her crossbow up, and the figure whirled at the sound of the bolt sliding back. An instant later, Beryl found the tip of a rapier positioned a hair’s breadth away from her neck. Frozen in place, Beryl was able to examine the stranger, and realized that (at least by outward appearances) it was a fellow pony. A long, black cloak covered most of the mare’s body, and the golden glow around the rapier meant that there was a horn beneath the tricorn perched on her head. It was difficult to make out features in the artificial light from Beryl’s horn, but the stranger’s chalky yellow coat and orange mane pulled back and tucked into her cloak stuck out to her. There was more surprise than malice in the mare’s eyes, so Beryl decided it was safe enough to venture a question.
“Have I seen you before?” she asked.
The strange mare’s eyes grew wider at that question, and she quickly withdrew her rapier before teleporting away. A flash down the tunnel revealed that she hadn’t gone far, and Beryl ran after her until she saw her teleport away again, jumping rapidly down the tunnel and out of sight. The mare seemed very familiar, and Beryl was sure she’s seen her before. Not just that, but she was sure she’d seen her before at the Ministry . But what was a Ministry agent doing running around the Canterlot sewers dressed like that? Could she be doing the same thing Beryl was; working outside the Ministry to take on her own case? With the werewolf vanished and Beryl alone in the sewers (as far as she knew), there was nothing left to do but look for her at the Ministry in the morning.
***
The next day, Beryl returned to the Ministry and began searching for the mystery mare. At the same time, she had to make it look like she was also searching for a new case. Unlike the day before, she would have no excuse for taking off early with no assigned case. There was a stack of potential cases on her desk next to the Ministry’s agent registry; Berry intensely flipped through the latter while completely ignoring the former. Until she located the mare she’d seen in the sewers, there was no way she could focus on tracking down some monster other than the werewolf who’d taken Argol’s Treachery and given her a warning about Shadowmere.
After poring through the collected information on all agents of the Ministry, she finally located her quarry. Adamant was an Agent Third-Class in the Equestrian Defense Department, the group assigned to deal with threats that could topple the nation itself. Did the Ministry realize the significance of the Howl? Is that why Adamant had been in the sewers the previous night?
The only way to know for sure would be to ask her, so Berry got up from her desk and headed toward Adamant’s office. There couldn’t be any harm in asking, since they had definitely identified each other the night before. Of course, if Amaranth had been on a legitimate mission for the Ministry, then it would make things difficult for Berry to explain what she’d been doing. Still, she had been seen, so this would happen eventually anyway. With what she felt was a stroke of luck, she spotted Adamant as she was walking through the Ministry’s foyer, headed toward the hallway to the EDD offices.
“Agent Beryl Fields,” Deputy Director Siren’s Song’s voice caught her attention before she could call out to Adamant.
“What is it, Deputy Director?” Beryl asked as she turned to face the unicorn, trying to keep Adamant in her field of vision at the same time.
“I’m investigating something in the Skyway and I need you to accompany me,” he announced as he cantered swiftly past Beryl toward the Ministry’s entrance, adjusting his equipment as he went.
“What’s going on?” Beryl asked with concern as she regretfully turned away from Adamant and walked alongside the Deputy Director.
“I can answer all your questions when we arrive,” Siren’s Song said brusquely, “Right now, we need to hurry.”
***
Once they’d exited the Ministry, the two ponies took a carriage together to the Skyway, riding in silence the whole way. Siren’s Song had given the taxi-puller strict instructions to stay off Canterlot’s major streets to avoid traffic, so whatever was going on in the Skyway must really have been urgent. After getting out of the carriage at the lower part of the district, he didn’t let up pace at all in leading the way. While the Skyway started as part of the main city of Canterlot, the large majority of the district wrapped around the mountain the city was built out from, ascending as it went. Most of the buildings were homes to pegasi, who had no problem with their houses being suspended out over the abyss or being unreachable except by climbing stairs and ramps too steep for a carriage to traverse. Because Canterlot’s main dirigible port was also in the Skyway, there was one way to move things larger than a pony, through a massive cargo funicular, but this was off limits to passengers other than those moving goods to and from the city below.
Near the highest point of the Skyway, Siren’s Song and Berry made their way to the station for the aerial tram that connected the city to the luxury dirigible marina that floated on clouds out away from the mountain. Flashing his badge to the confused tram attendant, Siren’s Song secured immediate passage on a tram exclusively for himself and Beryl. While rich ponies looking forward to taking their airships out for a cruise on a day with such fine weather watched irately, the tram pulled away from the Skyway with only two passengers aboard.
“Okay, I know this is urgent, but surely you can tell me what’s going on here,” Beryl said after tram had pulled a fair distance away from the station.
In reply, Siren’s Song raised a hoof to say “wait” and pulled a crystal from a pocket of his uniform, setting it down between them. A spark flew from his horn to the crystal and it began to glow. Simultaneously, sound seemed to shift and a faint hum appeared to be coming from all directions at once.
“I apologize for all the caution, but now that nopony outside of this tram can overhear our conversation, I can tell you the truth,” Siren’s Song said as he fixed Beryl with a serious expression, “There is no mission in the Skyway.”
“Then why did you bring me out here?” asked a very confused (and somewhat worried) Beryl.
“To ascertain why you were in the Canterlot sewers last night,” Siren’s Song said, clearing up her confusion but confirming her worries. So Adamant was on a mission for the Ministry last night after all, and she reported me to the Deputy Director. This was inevitable, sooner or later, but now I need some way to explain myself that doesn’t implicate Shadowmere. He is, after all, the Ministry’s most wanted.
“I was tracking down a werewolf,” Beryl replied honestly, feeling there was no need to obscure that particular fact.
“Yes, that’s what I thought, and since you have yet to take on another case since dealing with that amphiptere, I assume that you were acting outside of the Ministry’s authority?”
“Well, yes, but-” Beryl started to say, but was cut off as Siren’s Song raised a hoof to silence her.
“There’s no need for you to explain your actions to me. I’m not a pony who will discipline another for taking initiative just because they didn’t stay within the rules,” the Deputy Director said in an obvious jab at his superior, “I’ve been watching things, and it seems you’ve been acting on your own for some time. That’s why I have an offer for you.”
“An offer?” Beryl asked.
“Yes; as you have no doubt surmised from your run-in with Agent Adamant last night, you are not the only Ministry agent to hunt monsters outside the Ministry. However, it is dangerous to take on such tasks without any backup available. The Ministry’s agents are too valuable to risk losing them on personal hunts,” Siren’s Song said before leaning closer to Berry, “There is a group of us working outside of the Ministry that rely on each other. I would like you to join us.”
“I don’t know if I could do that,” Beryl said slowly as she watched the tram approach the dirigible marina, “I need some time to think.”
“I understand, but you should know that you would not lose any autonomy in your hunts if you choose to join us, merely gain resources and backup you would not have on your own,” Siren’s Song said swiftly as he also watched the marina approach, “Before you make your decision, you will need to meet with the other members. Meet me at sunset at this location.”
“And if I choose not join after meeting them?” Beryl asked as she took the slip of paper the Deputy Director passed to her, “I’ll know all your identities and could put you at risk of being discovered by Director Thistleback.”
“No, you won’t,” Siren’s Song said coolly, “If you choose not to join, we’ll wipe your memory of the meeting and this conversation, and you can go on fighting on your own.”
As he finished speaking, the tram came to a halt at the Skyway dirigible marina. Before any passengers could get on, Siren’s Song snatched up the crystal, and the hum disappeared as its glow ceased.
“I’ll find my own way back to the Ministry,” he said as he stepped off the tram, “Tonight. Sunset. Be there.”
***
As the sun sank beneath the western horizon, bathing Canterlot’s buildings in a crimson glow, Berry came to a halt outside the location Siren’s Song had specified for their meeting. It turned out that the address corresponded to a swanky five-star restaurant. Out front, Canterlot’s elite were lined up down the sidewalk, chatting amicably behind the velvet rope that separated them from those not wealthy or important enough to be admitted. Was she supposed to enter? The Deputy Director’s note only specified the location, with no other instructions. The question also remained if she would even be allowed in. Certainly not as a guest, not dressed as she was in her Ministry uniform, though it might get her in if she flashed her badge.
The confusion was cleared up as she spotted Siren’s Song gesturing to her from the corner of the building. She almost hadn’t recognized him, dressed as he was in civilian clothes: a fine-tailored suit with a heavy overcoat and a wide-brimmed top hat on his head. The clothes seemed out of style by several decades at least, but that seemed to be a theme when it came to monster-hunting vigilantes. Beryl had assumed Shadowmere dressed that way because he had lived through those time periods, but maybe his outfit really was the current style for his profession. Or maybe these outside-the-Ministry monster hunters were just copying the Black Briar’s style. Perhaps she’d never know the truth.
“Here, put this on,” Siren’s Song said after Berry trotted over to him, and he passed her a pin.
Beryl examined the pin as she fastened it to her uniform; it was nearly identical to the sun on Equestria’s flag (and Celestia’s hindquarters), except that it had been bisected, with only the top half remaining. A sunrise or a sunset perhaps?
She had no more time for musings on the pin’s meaning as Siren’s Song gestured for her to follow him as he headed toward the nearby narrow alley. About three-quarters of the way down, he stopped and turned abruptly to the left, stepping through the wall. Trotting up to where he had been a moment before, Beryl did the same.
The wall of the restaurant was definitely there, but she passed through it like it hadn’t even existed. On the other side was a small landing (where Siren’s Song was waiting for her to make it through) and a stone staircase leading down. Dim gaslights flickered at uneven intervals from the wall, bringing to mind her fight with the djinn. As Siren’s Song led the way, the two ponies descended into the earth, and the air grew cold and moist.
At the bottom of the stairs was an expansive room filled with pillars and walls that formed a convoluted maze. Beryl figured that the pin fixed to her uniform had been enchanted to allow her passage through the wall up above, but even if somepony had found some other way through, it would take them some time to find their way through the maze. Odd runes were carved into many of the walls, though Beryl couldn’t tell if they served some purpose or were just decorative.
A short passage after the maze brought the two ponies to a large cathedral-like space at the end of the journey. Within were gathered five other ponies, some of which Beryl recognized. Adamant was there, dressed the same way she had been the night before. Operations Chief Verdant Blades was also here, as well as Orion Star, head of the cleanup crews, both dressed in strange outfits instead of their Ministry uniforms. There was another pony she’d definitely seen around the Ministry before but didn’t recognize. The last pony took her completely by surprise; it was Shadowmere!
How could he be here? Shadowmere was supposed to be far away, looking into the lobgoblin’s origins, so what was he doing here? Maybe it wasn’t really Shadowmere; this stallion was wearing his outfit exactly except for the mask completely concealing his face. Or maybe it really was Shadowmere, and he didn’t trust the others enough to reveal his true identity. Still, that wouldn’t answer why he was here but hadn’t returned to Rosethorn Hall.
As Beryl and Siren’s Song entered the chamber, the ponies that had been chatting ceased their speech. None of them seemed unfriendly per se, just serious, and justly so. The mission these ponies had taken on was nothing to take lightly. It was harder to tell with the Shadowmere-not-Shadowmere; the exquisitely crafted mask covering his face had no slots for eyes to peer out of, just globes of glass that were opaque from the outside.
“As you all know, I have invited Agent Beryl Fields to join us tonight,” Siren’s Song announced to the room before addressing Beryl directly, “You already know Operations Chief Verdant Blades and Site Reclamation Chief Orion Star, and you met Agent Adamant last night. This is Agent Immaculate Cut, and our leader: the Black Briar.”
“A pleasure to make your acquaintance,” a voice that was assuredly not Shadowmere’s came from behind the mask as the Black Briar gave a slight nod. The voice was similar, but sounded more like somepony who knew what Shadowmere sounded like trying to impersonate him (a difficult task) than Shadowmere’s actual voice.
“I know it must be an odd concept to you, to think that you’ll be working with the Black Briar, given that the Ministry has been hunting him forever, but you’ll grow accustomed to it,” Siren’s Song said, completely unaware that Beryl had already done so, just not in the way he thought, “I assure you, the Black Briar is a useful ally to have. He’s immortal – that’s why records of him stretch back centuries – and as such has hunted monsters far longer than any other living pony. It was only natural that when we met, we named him to be the leader of the Knights of Dawn.”
“The Knights of Dawn?” Beryl asked, taken aback by the sudden mention of the Ministry’s (supposed) founders.
“Yes, it seemed a fitting name for a small group of ponies united in the purpose of hunting monsters,” the Black Briar cut in, “And now that there are seven of us, the similarities are even greater. I knew the original Knights of Dawn back when they founded the Ministry, and I must say that we are the most worthy successors to their legacy.”
Siren’s Song practically beamed while Beryl tried to hide the turmoil going on in her mind. This Black Briar was definitely not Shadowmere. He had told her himself, on multiple occasions, that the Knights of Dawn had never really existed. He had been very adamant on that point, so there was no way he would have talked about knowing them. Who was this stallion, really?
“Introductions are fine, but hadn’t we better move on to more pressing matters?” Adamant asked as she stepped forward, “There’s a werewolf somewhere in Canterlot using the Howl. Other werewolves have begun to appear on the outskirts of the city, then mysteriously vanish from our notice. Assuming they didn’t just turn away and this pattern continues, there will soon be enough lycans present to crown a Spitze Wolf, and we’ll have no idea where they’ll do it. Black Briar, did you turn up anything in your investigations?”
“I’ve consulted my resources, and though I don’t know where this werewolf is yet, I have a strong suspicion of who he is. He’s the only werewolf who would be bold enough to try to be crowned within Canterlot, surrounded by the eyes and swords of the Ministry,” the Black Briar explained, “He goes by the name Rholharrak, and this is not the first time he’s tried to be crowned Spitze Wolf. The most recent time was apparently a colossal failure, as he was seen afterwards missing an eye, assumedly from an internal dispute.”
“It’s him,” Beryl said without thinking, and the other ponies turned to look at her, “I saw him last night in the sewers, and he had a patch over one eye.”
“Rholharrak,” Orion Star repeated the name thoughtfully, “It’s not much, but it might be enough to determine his location. We should hurry; there will be a full moon out tomorrow night, and I’m sure that’s when he’ll want to be crowned.”
“It won’t just be a full moon,” Immaculate Cut added, “Tomorrow night will be the one hundred thousandth full moon since Iona was first cursed with lycanthropy.”
“We should have seen this coming,” Siren’s Song said morosely.
“Surely it would happen, but it could have happened anywhere,” the Black Briar said, “We’re lucky that it happened somewhere where we’ll be able to respond quickly. I propose that we go our separate ways for the moment and all meet back up here tomorrow at sundown to compare discoveries and begin our hunt.”
“Wait,” Verdant Blades said as the Knights of Dawn began to disband, “Before we depart, we still need to decide the matter of Agent Beryl Fields here. Will she stay with us and assist in this hunt, or go her own way?”
“I’ll join the Knights of Dawn,” Beryl said after thinking for a few seconds. So long as she was careful not to reveal any of Shadowmere’s secrets, no harm would come of it. She would also retain her memories about Rholharrak and the Black Briar. That was perhaps the most compelling reason; she needed to find out who this pony was who pretended to be Shadowmere. First, though, she had to find Rholharrak.
***
Beryl spent the next day poring through Shadowmere’s collection of books searching for records on Rholharrak. She learned little about this werewolf that she hadn’t already known, but she did learn more about werewolf history and lore, which had been covered in her Ministry training but largely glossed over in order to spend more time on how to kill werewolves. The Iona Immaculate Cut had mentioned was the first werewolf, and was revered as a mother figure by most werewolves. She had been cursed over eight thousand years ago, and had spread that curse through her bite and the bites of her offspring (referred to as “bitten” in the lore) to the entire population of werewolves living today.
Eventually, Shadowmere’s resources dried up, giving Beryl no new information. The Lycanthrope Kingdom remained on the table, taunting her, but no matter what she tried, she couldn’t get the volume to reveal its secrets to her. Not even knowing exactly what to search for, she was unable to turn up anything else in Shadowmere’s library that could tell her what to do with the book.
Not wanting to waste time, Beryl made her way back to the Ministry and entered the Deep Archives. She still had only level-3 clearance, so only retired records were available to her, and there wasn’t much there on werewolves that she hadn’t already been able to find elsewhere. She did manage to find something else that caught her attention, though. One of the books she’d pulled off the shelf was completely blank and exuded a strange aura, just like The Lycanthrope Kingdom . A tag was attached which read: “Crusade of 426; Paladin Izzin Oranthros; 6:31:18; see Curator for details.” The title of the book was Crusade of 426 , that much was clear, and Paladin Izzin Oranthros was probably the author, but the numbers following them held no meaning for Beryl. She followed the fourth part, taking the book to the Boris, who she assumed was the Curator referenced.
“Ah, an inkworld. I haven’t been asked about one of these in a while,” Boris said after Beryl asked him about Crusade of 426 .
“An inkworld, you say?”
“Well, that’s what I call them,” the aged griffin said, waving a claw, “Technically they’re worlds of living ink embodying memories, but that’s too much of a mouthful.”
“I assume there’s some way to access them?” Beryl asked.
“Yes, if you open the book and place your claws—er, hooves—on opposite pages and speak the author’s name aloud, you’ll enter the inkworld,” Boris explained, “You’ll experience the memories that the author stored within the book. However, once you’ve begun experiencing the memories, there’s no way to escape except by living through them, so make sure you have enough time. That’s what this part of the tag means; the memories stored in this book add up to six hours, thirty-one minutes, and eighteen seconds.”
“You’ll experience everything that happened to the author during that time?” Beryl asked.
“Yes, it’s a great way to store knowledge that could otherwise be misinterpreted,” Boris said, “They say a picture’s worth a thousand words, and I don’t want to wager how many words a vivid memory is worth.”
“Thank you, Boris,” Beryl said, and she carried [i[Crusade of 426 back into the Deep Archives. She had no interest in spending six-and-a-half hours experiencing a crusade by the Paladins of Order, but there was another book with memories she did want to experience.
***
Berry sat down back in Shadowmere’s hideout with The Lycanthrope Kingdom in front of her and checked the time. She still had four hours until sunset, when she was supposed to meet up with the Knights of Dawn, so she hoped that the memories didn’t last any longer than that. Unlike the books in the Deep Archives, this tome didn’t have a helpful tag telling how long of a memory to expect. Shadowmere probably knew it by heart and felt no need to record it.
Well, the sooner I start, the sooner I’ll finish. Beryl flipped the book open, once again taken aback by how much magic was contained within the pages. She flattened out the pages and placed a hoof on each side of the book. Nothing happened, and she realized that she had no idea whose name to speak to enter the book.
“Rholharrak?” she tried, figuring she might get lucky, then repeated herself in case a question instead of a statement interfered, “Rholharrak.”
Still nothing happened. It had seemed like such a sound plan, but this book wasn’t very useful if she couldn’t access it. Whose name could it be? The cover held only the title, without citing an author, and all the pages were blank. Shadowmere would know, but he wasn’t here.
“Shadowmere,” Berry said, and the book blazed with light.
Everything around her slowly faded away into an off-white. After a moment, she realized that the whiteness surrounding her was the same shade as The Lycanthrope Kingdom ’s pages. Lines and swirls of ink flitted across her vision, and gradually began to form into shapes. After a few seconds of waiting, everything came together.
She was on the streets of Canterlot, though not as it appeared today. The spires of Canterlot Castle could be seen in the distance, but no skyscrapers crowded out the view. Short, dingy homes and factories, separated by narrow, winding cobblestone streets surrounded her. If she had to guess, Berry would say that this memory took place about three centuries in the past.
Everything she saw took a bit of imagination to comprehend. Her surroundings were wrought in exquisite detail, but there was no color, and every line looked as if it had been drawn with a quill and ink. Distance was difficult to gauge at first, but she quickly got the hang of it. Sound was different; no matter how long she observed, it always seemed to exist only within her head, with no direction associated with noises. Perhaps that was just a part of the inkworld that she’d need to get accustomed to.
She had spoken Shadowmere’s name to enter the inkworld, so what she was experiencing was all from his perspective. Berry was seeing Canterlot through his eyes, and her perspective moved as he moved, stalking the streets and keeping to the shadows. Yet, even though she was experiencing his memories, there was a disconnect. Visuals and sound where there, but not sensations. It was as if she were a ghost who moved as he moved, but could not feel the movement. This was just something else she’d have to become accustomed to if she wished to gain information from these memories.
So far, nothing remarkable had happened, but surely Shadowmere hadn’t recorded these memories in The Lycanthrope Kingdom for nothing. The immortal monster hunter was nearing a crossroads where two constables stood—one with a lantern, the other with a crossbow—when a howl rang out across the night. As the two constables looked for the source of the noise, Shadowmere slipped past them. It hadn’t been a Howl, but it had definitely come from a werewolf and had gotten Shadowmere’s attention, causing him to quicken his pace.
He wove through the streets like a phantom, never hesitating in his choice of direction. It was as if he had Canterlot’s entire layout memorized, which he probably did. Galloping down a narrow alley, he spotted a tall wrought-iron fence overgrown with ivy in his way and made a leap. His hooves collided with the wall to the left only for a moment before propelling him toward the wall on the right. Shadowmere’s body twisted, and his hooves struck the wall again, propelling him back to the left. Now he was high enough that he struck a makeshift awning before hitting the wall, and used it to launch himself over the fence, landing on his hooves and continuing his gallop.
He had landed within a neglected cemetery, whose headstones were clustered far closer than modern gravesite regulations allowed and were chipped and covered in moss. In leaps and bounds, Shadowmere crossed through the cemetery without stepping on any graves (marked ones at least). His destination came into focus as he approached: the collapsing entrance to an underground mausoleum whose iron gate looked to have been torn open by force.
Shadowmere’s breakneck pace shifted to slow and cautious as he reached the top of the stairs. He drew a long knife as he descended as silently as a ghost. Once he reached the bottom, he followed a dim glow coming from one of the crypts. Low, growling voices could be heard as he approached.
Abruptly, Shadowmere burst into the crypt, knife flashing in the torchlight. Against the far wall cowered three werewolves, two ponies, and a werewolf in the process of transforming back into a pony. Standing between the group and Shadowmere was a werewolf Beryl recognized. Rholharrak stood ready for a fight with his sword held in front of him in one claw and his other stretched out to shield the others. The only difference from what she’d seen the night before in the sewers was that this Rholharrak still had both eyes.
“I told you this was a bad idea!” one of the ponies berated the other, “It would be better to be caught on the hunt than get rounded up just when we’re giving it up! I knew all of us gathered together would attract hunters!”
Shadowmere’s body was tensed and ready to attack, but the werewolf’s words seemed to give him pause. Berry recognized what had gotten his attention, too. Were these werewolves truly prepared to give up on hunting ponies? It was difficult to think of werewolves ever doing such a thing, but Berry had seen just recently that vampires could live without drinking blood.
“Well, come at me!” Rholharrak demanded of Shadowmere, “I guarantee you will have a difficult time of it, but you won’t harm them without killing me first!”
“Is it true?” Shadowmere asked through his knife, and Rholharrak gave him a quizzical look without dropping his guard, “Is it true that these werewolves have come to you because they no longer crave equine flesh?”
“Why does that matter?” Rholharrak asked defensively.
“Because it appears that maybe you are not my foe,” Shadowmere said, “I would speak with you, alone, to know for sure.”
Rholharrak seemed unsure, though he was definitely considering Shadowmere’s offer. It was evident that a part of him did not want to abandon the werewolves under his protection, but also that he saw the benefit of getting Shadowmere away from them. After he finished his consideration, he gave a nod and motioned with his sword for Shadowmere to lead. Shadowmere sheathed his knife and trotted out of the crypt, glancing behind to make sure that Rholharrak was following, and led him into an adjacent crypt. The werewolf took a seat on a sarcophagus, his greatsword across his lap and ready for immediate use if Shadowmere turned on him.
“Will you answer my questions now?” Shadowmere asked after he had settled in, “Do those werewolves truly not crave equine flesh?”
“No, they surely crave it still, but giving it up is a requirement for those who will join me,” Rholharrak said with a shake of his head.
“Why?”
“Werewolves have been hunted for millennia—I’ve been hunted for millennia—but there’s no reason to it!” Rholharrak spoke passionately, “If we take life, retaliation is only fair, but if we don’t, then what reason is there for ponies to hunt us?”
“Do you think that would work?” Shadowmere asked skeptically.
“Of course not! There’s too much bad blood between your kind and mine!” Rholharrak spat out, “But we have to start somewhere. The vampires organize themselves with minimal societal interference, so why can’t we do the same? To avoid being hunted down, though, we need to take the even more drastic step of making no interference. To live in peace, we must disappear and exist where nopony can find us.”
“You picked a poor city to do so,” Shadowmere grunted, “The Ministry is based here, and they issue a bounty for werewolf pelts.”
“They will not find us,” Rholharrak said confidently.
“Are you really so sure?”
“Yes; this plan was not hastily conceived,” Rholharrak defended himself, “Every step that can be taken to preserve this society has been taken. I will not fail.”
Shadowmere sat in silence for a minute before rising.
“Very well, I have made my decision: you are not my enemy,” he said, “You and your friends will live tonight. I will be keeping an eye on things, and if you step out of line, I will not hesitate to slaughter you all.”
“You may try, but it won’t come to that,” Rholharrak said as he ran his claws along his sword, “We will be successful at achieving my dream.”
“I hope that you are,” Shadowmere said as he left, “Perhaps we could even be allies. I hope to see you again, under happy circumstances.”
As Shadowmere stepped out of the crypt, the scenery melted, as if somepony had spilled water on the page and caused the ink to run. After blurring into nothingness, the ink began to take on recognizable shapes again, forming new scenery. Berry was experiencing another memory, this one taking place sometime after the first. Shadowmere was trotting through a familiar branch of the Canterlot sewers, and Rholharrak was padding along next to him. Neither seemed to bear any ill will toward the others.
“I think you will be pleased with what we have built,” Rholharrak said as they moved down the tunnel, “Everything is coming together just as I’d hoped.”
“No problems along the way?” Shadowmere asked as they took three turns in rapid succession.
“Of course there were some who opposed my ideology, but they were all made to submit. I can’t have anyone ruining the project, not at this point,” Rholharrak said, “Besides, they all see now that I am the prophesied Spitze Wolf. Out of all living werewolves, my blood is the most potent. It’s only natural, given that I am the first-bitten of Fire-frost, first-bitten of Horrus, first-bitten of Glyder, first-bitten of Torevald, first-bitten of Amethyst, first-bitten of Iona herself!”
Rholharrak came to a halt at a nondescript wall, and Berry tried to place its exact location. After removing three loose bricks, the werewolf gave the wall a shove, and it slid back before sliding off to the side, revealing a passage. The tunnel was of moderate size for a pony, but would be narrow for a werewolf, and Shadowmere could barely see past Rholharrak as he led the way. The tunnel had been carved out of the earth, and it meandered and dipped as they followed it, eventually reaching a wooden door.
As Rholharrak pushed the door open, he and Shadowmere stepped out onto a ledge overlooking a huge cavern. Crystals sparkled in the expanse, and moonlight shone down from a single hole in the grotto’s ceiling. Laid out on the cavern’s floor was a city mirroring Canterlot above. Twisting streets and tilting homes of stone and timber stretched off into the distance. Small trails of smoke rose from a few chimneys.
Eagerly, Rholharrak led Shadowmere down a stone pathway and onto the city’s streets. The denizens of the city were all werewolves, and all in their lupine forms. Many of them waved or gave some other sign of respect to Rholharrak as they passed, and he returned the courtesies to them. Shadowmere (and through him, Berry) marveled at the surrounding sights. This was a fully functional city, perhaps even more functional than the pony city above. Shops and homes all owned by werewolves made this a place where they could live without the worry of being found out by their neighbors as monsters.
“Well, what do you think of the Nocturnal City?” Rholharrak asked as he approached a large pool of water in the center of the town.
“It’s breathtaking; this is far beyond anything I thought you had planned,” Shadowmere said as he observed, “If I may ask, though, why a city? You could just as easily live above and only take your lupine forms when with your own kind.”
“Why should we be ashamed of who we are?” Rholharrak asked, showing some teeth, “Werewolfism is often presented as a duality: you are both a pony and a wolf. I reject that. I am a werewolf, nothing else, so why should I hide that? We were all ponies once, but no more. In the Nocturnal City, we can shed that identity and embrace our true selves. We are werewolves, only werewolves, and we are proud of it.”
“Looking at this, you ought to be,” Shadowmere said, nodding, “I’ll ask you again what I’ve asked you numerous times, though: aren’t you worried about being discovered?”
“I’ll give the same answer I always have: not at all,” Rholharrak replied with a slight laugh, “We rarely leave the city, and this cavern is completely undetectable. No spell can penetrate, so nopony can locate us or even know that we exist. The window above that lets in the moonlight is disguised as a well, and an illusion directly beneath is enough to fool anypony who looks into it. We are quite safe here, I assure you. You are the only pony to have ever set hoof here, and that was at my invitation.”
“You have confided this in me, so I feel I ought to confide in you as well, especially if we are to continue working together in the future,” Shadowmere said as he gestured around himself, “I am not a pony.”
“Oh, really?” Rholharrak said, raising an eyebrow.
Berry didn’t get to hear the rest of the conversation, as the memory stopped there. Once again, everything melting away before coming back together. Shadowmere was still in the Nocturnal City, but once again, time had passed. He stood near the pool in the center of town, and Rholharrak was nearby, speaking to a knot of werewolves. All around the pool and up and down the streets werewolves were crowded in, speaking to each other expectantly. As Rholharrak finished speaking to the other werewolves, he walked over to Shadowmere.
“Sorry about that, last minute preparations for the ceremony,” he said.
“Many have gathered,” Shadowmere commented as he looked at the crowd, “But are you sure this is the right time?”
“Tonight is the ninety-six thousandth moon since Iona received the Blessing. There will not be a better night than tonight,” Rholharrak said, also looking at the crowd, “I am ready to be crowned Spitze Wolf.”
“You’ve come so far, and your dream is nearly a reality,” Shadowmere said as he turned to face the werewolf, “The Spitze Wolf has always been a feared prophecy by non-werewolves, but with you taking the position, I know this could be a bright new future for your race.”
“Of course,” Rholharrak said, “Once all werewolves are united behind me, it won’t just be the Nocturnal City anymore. Werewolf civilization will finally be a reality, a lycanthrope kingdom with Canterlot as its capital.”
“You intend to rule your new nation from down here?” Shadowmere asked.
“No, from above,” Rholharrak said as he turned to face Shadowmere, “Now that we have the forces, we’ll declare war on the surface. Canterlot is our true home, and we will take it for ourselves.”
“Has madness taken you?” Shadowmere asked, shocked, “Have you forgotten that your society was built on the idea of not interfering with pony society?”
“Of course not!” Rholharrak said derisively, “But things have changed. Yes, we will be separate from pony society, but we’ve become too large to do so in the same way as before. I’ve begun to lose subjects to those who don’t wish us to exist even in the shadows. The future is a werewolf nation that proclaims to the world that it exists, but will not interfere in others’ affairs. For this, we must have a visible nation, and so we must take Canterlot. This is all to further lasting peace; so what if a thousand or ten thousand ponies must die in the process? They’ve certainly never shed a tear over the millions of my people they’ve slaughtered for being different!”
“Come to your senses!” Shadowmere demanded, “This war can only bring more death and suffering!”
“Shadowmere,” Rholharrak said, slowly and icily, “I would think you’d understand this better than anyone. You’ve been hunted for millennia just like me. Why do you have such love for ponykind? They’ve never had any love for you. I was hoping you would join me in this, but if not, then just stay out of my way.”
“Daybreak, to me!” Shadowmere called, and his sword appeared out of thin air.
Rholharrak was quicker. As Shadowmere’s teeth bit down on the hilt of the greatsword, the werewolf’s own sword sliced through Shadowmere’s neck, and his head lolled back, held on only by a flap of skin.
“You forget, Shadowmere, I know you, and I know all your tricks,” Rholharrak said contemptuously as he shook the blood from his sword.
“Not all of them,” Shadowmere said as he used a hoof to snap his head back into place.
The flesh sealed with a disgustingly wet sound as Berry’s view of the situation was righted. Rholharrak was so stunned that Shadowmere was not dead that he was barely able to avoid Daybreak swinging up at him. The tip of the blade gouged through his face, slicing his left eye, and the werewolf recoiled with a howl of pain.
“Stay back!” Shadowmere ordered to the crowd of werewolves, who were angrily growling at him after striking their leader, “Stay back, I say! The Nocturnal City doesn’t have to end! All I’m doing is putting a stop to Rholharrak’s madness!”
The werewolves didn’t seem to care, and charged toward Shadowmere.
“Daybreak, be gone!” Shadowmere shouted, dispelling his sword before speaking words that echoed with power, “I am the Reaper of Arnheim. May my judgement be swift and just.”
A massive scythe appeared in the air above Shadowmere, levitating without the use of unicorn magic.
“Forgive me,” Shadowmere said quietly as he closed his eyes before bringing his focus back to the crowd of werewolves.
The scythe swung around, cutting dozens in half and splattering their blood all across the scenery. The inkstain grew and covered everything, and then began to melt away until only the blank parchment remained. Gradually, the glow faded, and Berry was back in Shadowmere’s apartments, her hooves pressed down on the pages of The Lycanthrope Kingdom . Removing them and shutting the book, she sat back and analyzed what she’d just experienced.
The Lycanthrope Kingdom contained three memories, charting the progression of Shadowmere’s involvement with Rholharrak, yet there was much in between left unanswered. Berry figured it would be best if she just ignored what she didn’t know and focused on what she did. The werewolf was confirmed to be Rholharrak, and now she knew exactly how Shadowmere had betrayed him and how he’d lost his eye. She also knew now that Shadowmere and Rholharrak had worked together, so his claim of a betrayal was not entirely unwarranted. It seemed that neither had originally intended to betray the other, and even trusted each other, until Rholharrak decided to take drastic actions to found his kingdom. In the end, it seemed his dream of a peaceful lycanthrope kingdoms had fallen apart because of his own actions. He had probably fled in the madness, and the other werewolves present had been killed by Shadowmere or had fled as well.
Clearly Shadowmere had had to make a difficult decision in the end. The Nocturnal City, as an idea, was sound, and had no doubt prevented many pony deaths at the claws of werewolves while it had been in existence. With its disbandment, the werewolves of the project had presumably returned to their previous ways and begun killing ponies again. That would explain the decline in werewolf killings the Ministry had recorded three centuries earlier, and the sudden jump immediately after the last werewolf sighting in Canterlot elsewhere. The conquest of Canterlot and the wars destined to follow would have taken perhaps a hundred thousand lives at most; had less than that died since due to killings by werewolves who wouldn’t have done so had the Nocturnal City remained? Berry suspected the answer could go either way, and it was a difficult subject to consider.
More immediately relevant, she now knew how to get to the Nocturnal City, where Rholharrak was almost definitely hiding out and preparing to be crowned Spitze Wolf. She needed to get there, but the place would be swarming with werewolves by now, and she didn’t have the abilities Shadowmere had that let him mow down whole rows in a single swing. She would need help, and that meant calling on the Knights of Dawn. It was almost time to meet up, so she left Shadowmere’s apartments, taking all the equipment she thought she’d need with her. Hopefully she could lead the Knights to the Nocturnal City without giving up the secret of a book that would most definitely compromise Shadowmere.
***
The Knights of Dawn advanced cautiously through the sewers, searching for signs of werewolves. Beryl hadn’t had to tell them anything about the Nocturnal City to get them down here. Orion Star’s search for Rholharrak’s location had been sketchy, only detecting him sometimes, and always in the Canterlot sewers. It made sense, given what the werewolf had said in The Lycanthrope Kingdom about the Nocturnal City being impervious to spells. Now, Beryl just had to lead them to the entrance. Every so often, she would feign hearing a sound in the direction they needed to go, and the group would turn that way. Sometimes the sounds were even genuine, suggesting that there was something else down here making its way to the Nocturnal City.
As they turned the last corner and Beryl tried to think of some way to explain why she was removing bricks from the wall, the group spotted a werewolf up ahead. It wasn’t Rholharrak, but it was most definitely here to crown him Spitze Wolf, and took off as soon as it saw the Knights, ducking through the hole in the wall it had opened. The Knights of Dawn drew their weapons and followed the werewolf, passing through the tunnel Berry had earlier entered through Shadowmere’s memories. As the group exited the tunnel, they all halted to take in the sight of the Nocturnal City.
“How long has this been here?” Siren’s Song asked in awe.
“Centuries at least. Look at the architecture,” Orion Star commented, also taken aback.
“The werewolf is down there!” Verdant Blades called as she spotted the one they’d been following and flapped off after it.
“More over here!” Adamant called out from the opposite direction.
“Go, I’ve got this one!” Verdant Blades yelled as she swooped down through the narrow streets.
The six Knights descended the path to the Nocturnal City’s streets and pursued the other werewolves. The lycanthropes kept breaking off in different directions, forcing the Knights to split up themselves. First, Immaculate Cut charged after one, then Siren’s Song after another, and the Black Briar tracked down a group of three. As they were nearing the pool in center of the town, werewolves let out howls from the left and the right. Orion Star charged left and Adamant went right, leaving Beryl alone in the center. She spotted another werewolf ahead of her and pursued, firing her crossbow and striking it through the heart with her second bolt.
Beryl came to a halt as she entered the empty courtyard surrounding the pool of water. Rholharrak stood in the center of the pool, his sword at his side, and he turned to face her as he pulled his eyepatch back over his ruined eye.
“So, you failed to heed my warning,” he said contemptuously as he approached.
“I know what you tried to do here,” Beryl replied as she drew a silver sword, “I know you were going to slaughter all of Canterlot, and Shadowmere wouldn’t go along with it.”
“Yet he had no problem slaughtering the defenseless werewolves who had come here to join my kingdom,” Rholharrak retorted, “But what does it matter now? He won. I may be the Spitze Wolf, but I will never be crowned as such. My own kind doesn’t trust me anymore. All in Equestria heard my Howl, but only a clawful showed up for my coronation. I hope he’s happy with how things turned out, my people once more reduced to beasts, feeding on the flesh of others to survive.”
Beryl’s reply was to fire her crossbow at him, and he dodged the bolt easily. He hadn’t counted on the quarrel exploding as it passed him, showering him with slivers of silver that he couldn’t dodge. Small wounds appeared all over his body as the metal reacted violently to his flesh. To remove the slivers entangled in his coat, he immersed himself in the pool and rolled around vigorously.
Taking advantage of the situation, Beryl charged in and brought her sword down at his body. Steel rang against silver as Rholharrak brought his own sword up to block the blow. Beryl was forced to jump back as he rose and swung his sword around. Advancing from the pool, the two of them engaged in a duel, swords clashing as they each pressed for an advantage, though Beryl was clearly struggling more.
With her magic, she drew a silver long knife from its sheath and jabbed it in toward the werewolf as his sword was tied up blocking her other blade. Like before in the sewers, Rholharrak shot out his other claw and grabbed the knife before it could strike vital flesh, but Beryl had come prepared for this tonight. A second silver long knife leapt from its sheath and shot into Rholharrak’s stomach while he was throwing its twin away.
Rholharrak stumbled back and pulled the blade free with his injured claw, giving Beryl an opportunity to press her advantage. Her crossbow came back out and she fired as quickly as she could, each bolt exploding into silver confetti as it neared Rholharrak’s body. He was repeatedly peppered with silver and soon was covered in wounds that seriously impeded his ability to fight.
His body was practically immobile as Beryl charged in for another attack with her sword. Even so, the werewolf could wield his greatsword in one claw like a master, and she even had to retreat a few times to avoid being struck. Seeing an opportunity to go in for the kill, Beryl swung at Rholharrak’s head, but he anticipated her attack. His jaws snapped down on her sword while his sword swiftly changed direction, and the pommel struck Beryl on the skull. Blood ran into her eyes as she fired her crossbow once more at the werewolf, striking his sword claw the hardest and causing his greatsword to fall from his grip.
Beryl stumbled back, fighting dizziness. Rholharrak was at this moment completely helpless, and she didn’t want to waste any time letting him recover. She removed a silver stake from her back and staggered up to the severely injured werewolf. The stake came down like a bolt of lightning, piercing his heart and emerging through his back before becoming embedded in the ground.
Rholharrak’s eyes went wide as he coughed up blood. Beryl kicked his sword away from his spasming claws before stepping out of his reach, then sat down to catch her breath and examine her head wound. After she confirmed there would be no permanent damage, she wrapped the injury and wiped up her blood. Rholharrak made dying noises as he tried to speak, and Beryl stepped closer to hear them better.
“Don’t … trust … Shadow … m-mere,” he struggled out, his right eye pleading with Beryl, “You don’t … know … everything … His … secrets … are … deadly. I’m not the … first … St-stay a-away if … you value y- … your life!”
With his final warning out, Rholharrak’s head lolled to the side. He was finally dead. Beryl would have to cut off his head to make sure no one could ever resurrect him, but that could wait for a bit. She was still cleaning up the scene when the Knights of Dawn wandered into the area.
“That’s Rholharrak all right,” Orion Star said as he examined the body.
“Did you have much trouble?” Verdant Blades asked, seeing Beryl’s head.
“Some, but not nearly as bad as I thought it’d turn out,” Beryl admitted.
“Well done,” the Black Briar said, “I see that Siren’s Song was not wrong to recruit you.”
“Yes, fantastic job, Beryl,” the Deputy Director said as he stepped forward to congratulate her personally, “However, if I could make one suggestion, don’t wear your Ministry uniform next time. Though few ponies would recognize its significance, there are plenty of other creatures who would that could cause us problems. You are also probably aware how hard it is to explain damage to the uniform to the Ministry taken when not on a mission.”
“You got it,” Beryl said with a smile.
In keeping in line with the theme the Knights of Dawn seemed to be using, she could probably find something in Shadowmere’s apartments to wear. Her gaze settled on the Black Briar. If for no other reason, she had to stay in the Knights of Dawn in order to discover who this pony was, and why he’d chosen to steal Shadowmere’s identity.
***
Back in Shadowmere’s hideout, Berry put all the books from her research back where she’d found them, including The Lycanthrope Kingdom . Out of curiosity, she used her magic to look for more inkworld books. There were four more in the library that she’d never found before, probably because of how large it was. None of them had any more information than just the title, so she resolved to ask Shadowmere about them when he returned. They could really come in handy if she only knew how to enter them.
To her surprise, there was one inkworld book not in the library. She only knew of its existence because its aura was so strong that she could detect it through all the walls and floors of the hideout. Following the energy radiating from the book led her to a locked room which she had the key for, but had never had any reason to open before. The walls were lined with bookcases where the books were protected by metal gates whose keys she didn't possess. The book from which the aura was radiating had its own shelf and a second locked gate, as well as an additional locked cage around the book itself. No title was visible, so it was impossible to tell what was within the tome. Up next to it, the aura was terrifying. It was a thousand times stronger than any of the other inkworld books she’d found and radiated a dark, somber presence. Even if she could get to it, Beryl doubted she’d have the courage to actually open it.
A slight sound from above caught Berry’s attention. It had definitely come from within the apartments, so logically it could only be one pony. However, on the off chance that somepony other than Shadowmere had entered (it had happened before, with the djinn), Beryl drew her crossbow before ascending the steps. She lowered it as she entered the sitting room and saw the pitch-black stallion dropping off his travel things.
“Welcome back,” she said as he turned to face her with the glowing red eyes she’d nearly forgotten.
“Did anything exciting happen while I was away?” Shadowmere asked.
“Nothing much; just Rholharrak trying to set himself up as Spitze Wolf,” Berry replied nonchalantly.
“Yes, him,” Shadowmere said sadly as his head shot up, “You will have to tell me all about it later.”
“So, what did you learn?” Berry asked eagerly.
“My investigation turned up many troubling things, but at least we now have a solid lead to follow,” Shadowmere said as he motioned for Berry to sit on the sofa, “I visited the lobgoblin’s homeland. It turns out that that particular parcel of land was purchased recently by the Nocte Corporation.”
“The same company that built Hierophant Tower?” Berry asked. It had been so long, but the events with the gargoyles were still fresh in her mind.
“The very same, and that’s not all,” Shadowmere went on, “I turned up proof that the Nocte Corporation is in control of many enterprises that make their operations look suspicious. Their subsidiaries include the theatre company booked for the Hearth’s Warming Eve Pageant, the groundskeeping company that was recently given the job of tending the cemetery where Pewter Belle was buried, and the company responsible for installing the new gas lines.”
“It seems like they had a role in every connected monster attack we’ve experienced,” Berry said.
“Precisely; it’s too much to be a coincidence,” Shadowmere said with narrowed eyes.
“So, what’s the plan?” Berry asked.
“We take down the Nocte Corporation, of course,” Shadowmere said as a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth and his eyes blazed.
Author's Note
Another chapter at last!
This one took me longer to get out than I expected, but I think that the story is better for me taking the time to flesh out the story and world more. Hope everyone following this story enjoys this next entry. I could also mention that this is the halfway point in the first arc, and I hope to wrap up a few of the threads I've left dangling in the next chapter or two.
Until then, happy reading!
FireOfTheNorth
Lightning crackled across the horizon, multicolored bolts striking the ruined city below. The entire landscape was dominated by the city, husks of buildings crumbling beneath the dark and soggy shadow of a sky that never brightened. Here and there, incredibly malformed trees sprouted amongst the broken buildings, allowed to take root in the streets, forests, great halls, and libraries abandoned long ago. A sea of pitch roiled in the distance, noxious fumes rising from it as the waves sluggishly crashed against the crumbling shore.
And Yx waited.
To say that the ruined city was abandoned would not be entirely true. Perhaps it would be better to say that it was abandoned by anything distinguishable as a civilized inhabitant, at least from a pony’s perspective. Creatures great and small crawled, flew, and slid through the ruins, emitting noises no pony of Equestria had ever heard, and which would likely drive them mad if they ever did. The smell of death and putrescence emanated from the city, along with that of decay as rotten tomes festered in the damp.
And Yx waited.
Yx the Oncoming, Yx the All-Knowing, Yx the Cleanser. Not that Yx would have chosen any of these titles. Yx was Yx was Yx. If this realm had a castle filled with courtiers, Yx would be king. If the great temples still stood, tall and free of infestation, Yx would be god. But the courtiers and priests of this realm were long gone. Yet, Yx remained.
And Yx waited.
Near the great, many-tiered palace, a burst of flame shot into the heavens. As the flame subsided, a pony appeared, screaming and clutching his burning flesh. His eyes were wide with shock as he realized that his flesh was no longer burning, but wholly restored. A minor amusement? thought Yx.
“From whence have you come to my realm?” Yx asked in a thousand tongues simultaneously, bombarding the pony’s mind.
The pony had appeared staring out over the city, but turned to face the haunting voice. When he beheld Yx in its true form, his mind snapped and he screamed in terror. Oh well, perhaps next time. As Yx inclined itself toward the pony, he was able to break free of his terror long enough to gallop toward the nearest precipice and hurl himself over the edge. A tentacle quickly snapped him up before he splattered upon the next terrace and brought him to be torn apart by claws and pincers and teeth. More lightning crackled across the sky, the sea continued to churn, and unholy creatures scuttled across a toppling building.
And Yx waited.
Darkest Shadows
***
Matriarch Tower soared above most of Canterlot’s spires, the modern skyscraper clashing with many of the historic buildings, but fitting in quite well with some of the other nearby buildings, including Hierophant Tower. Both buildings had been constructed by the Nocte Corporation, but Matriarch Tower was their home. It was here on the highest floors, overlooking Canterlot and all Equestria, that the Nocte Corporation was headquartered. In a conference room with a stunning picture window and a long, polished mahogany table, the members of the corporation’s board of directors sat and waited.
It had been a disastrous past month for the company. Failures in every area of business and unexpected refusal to cooperate from other companies had caused the Nocte Corporation’s stock price to drop dramatically. The traders of the Manehattan Stock Exchange advised their investors to stay in at first, but when the company continued to fail, they changed their tune and would no longer buy Nocte stock. The dire straits the company was in had necessitated this very important meeting, as well as dealings with a new board member.
“Pardon my lateness,” the stallion apologized as he entered the board room, his aide in tow.
In the midst of all the madness of failure from a company that hadn’t failed in a hundred years, a new investor had bought up a sizable chunk of stock. This mystery investor was apparently a member of the old nobility, the reclusive Lord Briarheart. So far, he had done all his business through his accountant, Silver Shimmer. He was a pony with substantial means, and in exchange for a seat on the board, he had agreed to invest a portion of his personal fortune into the company to help keep it afloat and continue its ongoing projects. Today, the board would see just who this pony was for the first time.
All in all, he appeared very standard at first glance. Yet, something seemed decidedly off about him. For one thing, he kept his sunglasses on at all times, but that wasn’t what threw the board off; besides, nopony was going to tell the pony who’d saved the company to remove his glasses if he didn’t want to. His suit was about a decade out of fashion, but that also wasn’t the cause for alarm and wasn’t all that unnatural, considering he was a reclusive lord. No, there was something about him that made each of the board members itch under their expensive collars, but they couldn’t quite place their hooves on what it was.
His aide seemed normal, at least. The wine-coated unicorn stood back against the wall with the other assistants, a pad of paper and pencil floating in front of her to jot down notes on behalf of her executive. Berry tried her hardest to be inconspicuous, and so far, she was doing a pretty good job. The chances of anypony recognizing her were miniscule. Shadowmere, on the other hoof, always seemed to give off an aura of otherworldliness, which could be quite incriminating, given the situation.
The Nocte Corporation had had a part to play in most of the large monster attacks since she and Shadowmere had met, which had to be more than mere coincidence. Some evil force was at play here, either within the corporation or controlling it, and Shadowmere wanted to go right to the top. Using his unfathomable wealth, he’d been able to chip away at the Nocte Corporation’s income and eventually cause its near collapse before swooping in to save it at the last minute and worming his way onto the board.
As the board talked about measures to avert the catastrophe they were facing, Shadowmere and Berry carefully observed their surroundings. As Berry carefully probed the executives with her magic (almost all were unicorns), she took note of which had defenses in place to ward off probing spells (which was most of them). It could simply be to prevent corporate espionage, but given the reason she and Shadowmere had come here, there was likely a more sinister reason.
The conference room had also undergone alterations recently. Fresh paint covered part of a wall, and a new section had been inserted into the table. Most curious of all was the wall facing the window, which had a section with several holes for mounting art, but had nothing hanging from it. The shadow of unbleached wood was evidence that some metal symbol had once hung there, though it was unlike any symbol Berry had ever seen. It was most certainly not the icon of the Nocte Corporation, and the Ministry agent made a detailed sketch of it in her notepad.
As the meeting came to an end, the board members rose from the table and filed out of the conference room. Most of them headed to their internal offices; they would meet up again later, informally, to discuss this newcomer. Lord Briarheart and his aide saw themselves to the elevator and out of the building. It wasn’t until they were far away and sure that nopony was around to hear them that they finally spoke to each other.
“They all reek of black magic,” Shadowmere said as he blew his nose, “There’s a dark power over that whole building.”
“Many of them were magically warded,” Berry added, “Are they all witches and warlocks?”
“It’s likely,” Shadowmere answered as they passed through the wall behind Rosethorn Hall, “But it doesn’t make any sense.”
“How do you mean?” Berry asked as they trotted across the lawn, hoping the orphans playing out front wouldn’t come around back and see them.
“I could see their reasoning behind releasing Pewter Belle, but what reason would a witch coven have to summon gargoyles, release a djinn, and bring a lobgoblin here? I don’t understand their motives, and that worries me.”
“So, you’re saying we need more information before we act,” Berry said as they trotted through Shadowmere’s hideout.
“Precisely,” the ancient stallion replied, “At least we have something to go on. It appears that before today, they used to conduct rituals in that conference room. I trust you noticed all the alterations.”
“Yes, though they failed to hide everything,” Berry said as she showed Shadowmere the symbol in her notepad.
“Nothing I recognize,” he said with a frown, “I’ll look into it. Meanwhile, you should return to the Ministry and see what you can dig up there.”
***
As usual, the Ministry was extremely busy, but it had gotten worse now that the number of monster attacks continued to rise with no sign of slowing. Agents were needed everywhere, and were beginning to miss things. Several monster attacks had managed to become common knowledge, and the Ministry was taking drastic action to ensure that the ponies of Equestria remained blissfully unaware of the things that went bump in the night. A special task force had been formed to curtail attacks from the Everfree Forest in particular, with the goal of getting the situation fully under control before the upcoming summer sun celebration in Ponyville. There could be no slip-ups, as all eyes would be on the small town for the historic one thousandth summer sun celebration.
Ignoring the crowds in the Ministry’s lobby as she usually did, Beryl made her way to her office and got to work. She began searching for anything she could find about the symbol in her notepad, but it proved to be a difficult task. How could you search for a symbol? She summoned every record she could find on witch covens and their symbology, but still turned up empty-hooves. She was preparing to head to the Deep Archives to continue her research, when her door opened.
“I have some good news for you, Beryl,” Deputy Director Siren’s Song announced as he stepped into the room.
“Really?” Beryl asked, surprised that he had come directly to her office instead of summoning her to his own or ambushing her in the hallway, as he usually tended to do.
“Yes, your hard work has paid off, and the Director has agreed to grant you level-2 clearance to the Deep Archives,” Siren’s Song said as he closed the door after himself.
“What exactly does that mean?” Beryl asked. Level-3 clearance allowed her to look at retired records, what would level-2 open up?
“Level-2 records are those restricted from even regular Ministry Agent eyes,” Siren’s Song explained, “The most dangerous creatures and the most terrible secrets, known only to a few privileged souls. Level-2 records were deemed unsafe for all but the most skilled and senior agents of the Ministry to handle. I do believe you will be up to it.”
“Thank you,” Beryl said, taking the compliment, “This should be helpful with a case I’m working on.”
“Outside your Ministry duties, I presume. What is it?” Siren’s Song asked curiously, and Beryl wished she’d kept her mouth shut about the matter.
“Tracking down a coven of witches,” Beryl said, seeing no need to keep that a secret now that the cat was out of the bag.
“Well, if you need any help, you know where to find it,” Siren’s Song reminded her, referring of course to the Knights of Dawn, which she hadn’t seen since the matter with Rholharrak, “I’ll let you get back to work.”
After the deputy director left her office, Beryl headed down to the Deep Archives. Unlike when she’d first received access to the Deep Archives, there was no tangible indication of her change in security clearance. The wall gave way, and the guarding spells didn’t attack her as they'd previously done as she descended. Also like usual, Boris was waiting at the bottom of the shaft.
“Ah, Beryl Fields,” the elderly griffin said as he rose from behind his desk and produced a key, “I’ll open up the level-3 archives for you.”
“Actually, I’d like level-2 this time,” Beryl replied.
“Oh, really? Moving up in the world, are we?” Boris chuckled.
He produced a different key from before, inserted it into a different point in the massive door, and made different motions to unlock it. When he was finished, it opened onto a new room, different from what Beryl had seen before. This room was also circular, but the bookcases were all on the exterior walls, with a spiral staircase wrapping around a rickety old elevator in the center. She was also at the lowest point of the archive instead of the highest, and the archive appeared at the moment to be completely empty of ponies.
Thanking Boris, Beryl stepped into level-2 of the Deep Archives. She quickly discovered that the organizational scheme here was also different from the upper archives. The records and books were still organized by topic, but the topics were no longer alphabetical. Rather, they were scattered helter-skelter with no discernable system for determining what topic went where. Finding the records on witch covens was a process that involved trotting around the wall, looking at the books, and trying to determine what topic they were a part of before going up to the next floor and repeating the process.
Eventually, she did find some relevant records, and sat down to read. All kinds of covens had existed, and some still did exist, in Equestria, but none of them had any connection to the symbol sketched in Beryl’s notepad. She had thought that witches were no longer a problem in Equestria, and that the only ones found now were poor excuses for their extremely dangerous predecessors; however, these records proved her wrong. Apparently, as recently as fourteen years ago, a powerful witch coven had been discovered attempting to sink the city of Baltimare beneath the waves. The record also disturbingly suggested that they were capable of such a thing. Perhaps it was for the best that these records stay hidden from most eyes, lest they expose how close Equestria really was to falling to dark forces at any moment.
Many more of the records Beryl dove into were just as unnerving, but none had the symbol she was looking for. Considering the importance of symbols to rituals, Beryl decided that she ought to also look into cults that practiced black magic, and was able to find the associated section of the archives after some more searching. Beryl learned far more than she ever wanted to about the dark cults lurking beneath the surface of Equestrian society, as well as the prominent figures who were part of such cults, but was still unable to find a matching symbol.
She was considering going back up to the level-3 archives in case what she was looking for was not as terrible as she’d expected and had just been retired, but first she wanted to make sure she looked through everything on this level. She continued her search through the archives, and came across many interesting topics, but felt she was getting farther away from what she was looking for. That is, until she found a second section on cults.
Puzzled as to why they’d been sorted separately from the other records, she pulled a few of the books down and looked through them. Immediately she knew that she had stumbled across something that fit what she was looking for. The cults recorded in these books were a special kind of cult that crossed the boundaries of witches and the other cults. All the cults recorded in these books were devoted to something the authors called only the Old Gods. Curious as to what exactly these Old Gods were supposed to be, Beryl dug through more books, looking for a description, but it proved elusive. It appeared the only thing the Ministry knew about the Old Gods was that they were extremely powerful entities that usually had nothing to do with the mortal world, but it would be a catastrophic event if one of them ever managed to come in contact with it.
Almost by chance, Beryl spotted the symbol she’d been looking for this whole time emblazoned on one of the pages. It wasn’t any symbol used for rituals, but the symbol for the Old God Yx, an entity that had many titles all suggesting great power and the intent to destroy the mortal world. This cult had once existed in Canterlot, according to the record, until it was stamped out entirely centuries earlier. Of course, Beryl had read plenty of times about the demise of monsters and groups that she had later had contact with, so it meant absolutely nothing that the cult was supposedly dead.
Unfortunately, there wasn’t much other information on the Yx cult, but Beryl absorbed whatever she could. Armed with this information, hopefully either Shadowmere would know more about it, or he would have the info somewhere in his archives. After returning the books to their spots on the shelves, Beryl left the Deep Archives and headed to Rosethorn Hall.
***
As she approached Rosethorn Hall, Berry noticed that there was somepony spying on Lord Briarheart’s estate. Berry quickly ducked out of sight before she was seen, and peeked around the corner of a hat store. She couldn’t be sure, but it looked like the spy was one of the aides from the board meeting. So, even they were in on this. Berry had come straight from the Ministry, and she couldn’t be seen here in her uniform if there was a spy for the Yx cult about. She took a long detour to her apartment, changing into the formal wear she’d bought for the board meeting before returning to Rosethorn Hall. The spy was still there when she knocked on the door and one of the caretakers let her in.
“Do you realize you’re being watched?” Berry asked Shadowmere as she entered his apartments and he looked quizzically at her outfit.
“Yes, it’s quite annoying, but nothing I haven’t dealt with before,” Shadowmere said as he shut the book he’d been looking through, “I’ve been unable to find any connection between our new friends and the increasing monster attacks. How about you?”
“I believe this witch coven is part of the Yx cult,” Berry said, and laid out her reasoning before the immortal monster slayer.
“Yes, I see,” Shadowmere said when she’d finished, “Well, that’s another dead end, then. Yx-worshippers have no reason to summon monsters to Canterlot; some other entity must be controlling them.”
“We can’t just let them get away with this, though,” Berry protested, worried that obsession with finding the entity responsible for the gargoyles, djinn, and other monsters would cloud the big picture.
“Of course not, especially if they intend to summon Yx. An Old God here would be worse than anything we’ve faced yet,” Shadowmere said with what seemed to be a shudder.
“The Ministry records mention the Old Gods, but not much about them,” Berry said, “What are they?”
“Remnants of a world that no longer is, like myself,” Shadowmere said as he beckoned for Berry to take a seat, “They were draconequi once, each powerful rulers of a realm in the Beyond, attended to by their Changeling servants. Then, Discord—a fellow draconequus—betrayed them. The Beyond was destroyed in exchange for added time for Aetherius, which eventually fell as well.”
“Forming the passages,” Berry said, remembering what he had told her outside Stalliongrad.
“Precisely, and just like the passages, the draconequi did not, for the most part, simply disappear. Several of them lived on in a twisted and broken way, just like their former realms. Yx was formed by the catastrophic melding of three draconequi: Hermaehorse Mora, Clopicus Vile, and Nocte.”
“The Nocte Corporation,” Berry said with a nod, fitting the pieces together.
“Little of these draconequi’s former personalities and minds remain,” Shadowmere said sadly, “The Old Gods are gods of madness, a crawling, creeping madness that seeks to eradicate all else. If one of them were to reach our world, all would perish and the world would begin to break apart.”
“We’d better stop this coven before they try something like that,” Berry said, rising, “How do we do that, though? An assault on Matriarch Tower seems like a bad idea.”
“I was not involved in the extermination of the initial Yx cult, but I did know about it,” Shadowmere said thoughtfully, “I may know where they have gone.”
“Great, let’s get going,” Berry said, before looking down at her attire, “After I change.”
***
The spy was gone when the two ponies emerged from the lawn of Rosethorn Hall, but in case an accomplice was still hiding somewhere, they crept through the wall and down the abandoned nighttime alleys of Canterlot. Shadowmere led the way, and eventually they arrived at an entrance to the Canterlot sewers. After traveling through the twisting stone passageways, they arrived at a secret passage into less disgusting tunnels.
Apparently, the Nocturnal City wasn’t the only secret world beneath Canterlot. Shadowmere explained that a whole system of secret tunnels and structures had been carved out under Canterlot centuries ago. They had been used in turn by thieves, cultists, revolutionaries, the poor, the rich, serial killers, the city government, the national government, and secret societies. The system was massive, so it was largely abandoned at any given time. Even today, there were probably some groups still using them besides the Yx cultists. Berry thought of where she’d met with the Knights of Dawn for the first time, and suspected that it was connected to this system of tunnels.
The maze of passages was laid out in a bafflingly confusing way, and Berry was soon unsure of where beneath Canterlot they were. Shadowmere seemed to be familiar enough with the underground city, so she continued to follow his lead. Occasionally, they would stop at a crossroads, or pause on a bridge overlooking a cavern filled with aging structures, but then they would be off again.
Shadowmere motioned for silence as torchlight appeared dimly ahead. Stealthily, they crept ahead and passed the torches, which lit the way to a long staircase leading up to the surface. Voices registered as they continued down the passage to where another dim light glowed. They emerged into the upper aisle of a large underground cathedral. It was very much like the space where Berry had met the Knights of Dawn, except larger and grander and more twisted. Columns soared gracefully up from the floor, wrapped in creeping stonework of vines and beasts. The upper levels bent inward menacingly, as if the whole structure was preparing to devour its inhabitants. On one wall was a massive rendition of the symbol of Yx, candles flickering behind it casting the shadow across the cathedral.
“Help! Let me go! Let me go!” a voice screamed piteously from down below, carrying over rhythmic chanting.
The voice was coming from a stallion tied securely with ropes to a long metal spike protruding from a soot-stained altar. He was dripping with oil, and it pooled beneath his hooves on the altar, sparks from the nearby braziers threatening to light him aflame at any moment. Around the altar were two concentric circles of ponies, hooded and cloaked and reciting the awful chant. The air crackled with magic, and Berry could sense the auras of several of the ponies she’d been near in the conference room earlier that day.
Shadowmere and Berry crept to the nearest staircase, keeping an eye on the cultists, and readied themselves for a fight. As Berry slid a crossbow bolt into place, the click echoed through the air unexpectedly, and the cultists turned their heads her way. They rapidly stumbled through the final words of their chant as she appeared over the railing and aimed her crossbow at the group. One used her magic to tip the braziers at the corners of the pentagon-shaped altar onto the oil, and flame swiftly spread. Berry let loose the crossbow bolt, which missed every cultist and struck the altar instead. The flames were quickly doused as ice spread over the surface of the altar and partway up the gibbering sacrifice’s hindhooves.
“Daybreak, to me!” Shadowmere yelled as he reached the bottom of the stairs, and the massive sword materialized before him.
As the black stallion charged the cultists, Berry fired another ice-enchanted bolt down toward the group in an attempt to immobilize some of them, and took off down the stairs. Four of the cultists had fallen, torn apart by Daybreak, by the time Berry reached the base of the cathedral. She spun swiftly as a blast of magic came from her left, and projected a shield in time to deflect it.
Her opponent’s hood had been swept back, and she recognized one of the aides who’d stood beside her that morning. He seemed to recognize her as well, though her attire was very different. She had taken Siren’s Song’s advice, and no longer wore her Ministry uniform except when on an official Ministry job. Instead, she now wore an eclectic mix of pieces from eras of swashbuckling and industrializations. About her person were also more places to store talismans, potions, and, of course, crossbow bolts.
Levitating her weapon, she pointed it at the cultist. His eyes and horn blazed with a smoky power, and she felt a vise grip her heart. Dark magic. Berry kneeled as the grip grew tighter, and her crossbow wavered in her magical hold. Somehow, she managed to pull the crossbow’s trigger before dropping the weapon, and the bolt flew true, shooting through the cultist’s forehead. Immediately, the dark grip on her heart ceased as the stallion tumbled to the ground.
Berry searched through the pouch of talismans at her side until she found the one that was still warm. It was impossible to know going in what kind of dark magic these cultists would be wielding, and wearing too many protective talismans was a recipe for disaster. However, she knew that this one would protect her, assuming these cultists were all using the same kind of witchcraft. She looped it around her neck before emerging from behind a pillar.
During her encounter with the aide, Shadowmere had killed two more of the cultists, and now only three remained. One had drawn a circle of oil around themselves and lit it afire, creating a magical barrier to protect them while they chanted an evil incantation. Shadowy tendrils began to rise around the cultist, a mare who that morning had gone on at length about protecting the families of the Nocte Corporation’s workers. Berry drew a crossbow bolt from her side and used a spell to burn the symbol on it matching the talisman around her neck. The bolt's impact caused the magical shield to collapse, and the flames rushed in towards the cultist. Whatever dark spell she’d been working on dispersed as she tried to put out her flaming robes, and she had no time to summon it up again before Berry’s magical sword cut into her.
Shadowmere decapitated another cultist, Daybreak slicing through her wards as if they didn’t exist, and the remaining member tried to make a run for it. Berry threw a bolas at him, entangling his hooves before he could get far. Desperate, the cultist began a chant, but that ended as Shadowmere looped a talisman identical to the one around Berry’s neck around the cultist’s throat, and he was forced to end his dark spell lest it burn him up.
“Where are the others?” Shadowmere demanded, yanking the stallion upright roughly.
“The Devotees of Yx are myriad and all-knowing, just like the great Yx the Oncoming, who will cleanse this world,” the cultist babbled.
“Don’t give me that,” Shadowmere replied testily, “If you were truly as myriad as you claim, then you would have already opened the Gate to let Yx in. Instead, you are still preparing these sacrifices. I know you’ve been doing this for quite some time, so there must not be very many of you. The Nocte Corporation’s board of directors, and maybe a few more – am I right?”
“It’s too late for you to stop us,” the cultist laughed, “All who doubted Yx will become part of the field of bones covering this world. Only we faithful shall be spared to live with Yx!”
“I don’t think we’re going to get much from him,” Berry said.
“Regrettably, I think you’re right,” Shadowmere said, and the cultist looked terrified for a moment before he was impaled, “Daybreak, be gone.”
“Now what do we do?” Berry asked as she eyed the corpses around the room with disgust. Her duty was to slay monsters, but when those monsters turned out to be ponies, it was never pleasant.
“There were ten here, half executives and half aides. If the board of directors is all we’re dealing with, then that means only ten more with their aides. The trick will be finding them before they make a sacrifice to make up for this one,” Shadowmere answered, “We know their names, but those will surely be protected, so we’ll need some other way to locate them. Matriarch Tower may have something for us. I sensed more than just these witches’ foul stench there.”
“Matriarch Tower it is, then,” Berry said with a nod, “Though I don’t suppose we can just walk in again.”
“E-excuse me,” the sacrificial pony called out and the duo turned to face him, “Could somepony please cut me down and tell me exactly what’s going on?”
***
After cutting the young stallion down, Berry and Shadowmere led him to the surface and wiped his memory of the events before letting him go. Not only was it for the best that he no longer remember the tragic experience and the fact that a secret city existed beneath Canterlot, but he had also seen Shadowmere’s and Berry’s faces, which could prove problematic if he told anypony about the events. He would probably still wonder why he smelled like ceremonial oil, but that was less of a problem than the truth.
Darkness was still over Canterlot as they sneaked into Matriarch Tower, which they’d so blatantly trotted into and out of when the sun was up. No time could be wasted, though. Shadowmere had known of young stallions disappearing for years, but hadn’t connected it to sacrifices by the Yx cult in preparation for opening a Gate until now. The number of sacrificed ponies combined with the cultist’s crazed warning that they were too late increased his worry that the Gate was about to be open. Considering what had happened since Berry and Shadowmere had met, it was par for the course to expect they’d only discovered this threat just as it was about to become most dire.
The elevators weren’t working, and even if they had been, it would have been too risky to travel up in a metal box with the possibility of the other cultists being nearby. Instead, they had to climb all forty-two flights of stairs to reach the floor with the conference room. The view was no less impressive now, but they hadn’t come here to look out at the slumbering city of Canterlot and the distant lights of Equestria’s cities. The architectural plans of this building did not fit its actual layout, and the reason was revealed as Shadowmere kicked down a section of one of the conference room walls.
The conference room had been used for clandestine meetings of the cult and perhaps even a few minor ceremonies, but it was too exposed to ponies bursting in to be safe to do much else. Because of this, the cult had needed some place to do their other deeds during work hours, and nopony would question the board if they spent long hours in the conference room. Shadowmere had opened up a narrow passage between the conference room and the neighboring chamber, housing a staircase leading down to the building’s core. Following the staircase down with weapons at the ready, the ponies discovered the cultists’ den of evil.
For every floor of the Nocte Corporation’s offices, there was a floor here between the elevators assumed empty. However, it was far from empty. Potions and poisons, forbidden grimoires, and frightening statues occupied every corner of the rooms. Magical traps also abounded, and Berry and Shadowmere carefully disarmed them before further examining the witches’ hideout.
While Shadowmere sniffed around for something to help locate the rest of the coven, Berry looked at the different magical utensils scattered about the place. A polished mirror drew her attention the most. It displayed a darkened room, and it seemed that the image was motionless, probably because it was linked to some other magical object. This was not an uncommon trick; if two mirrors were enchanted properly, then the ponies on either end could see and speak to each other. With a start, Berry recognized from the architecture of the other room that it was somewhere within Canterlot Castle. She tried to place it, but it was nowhere she’d been before. What did this mean? Was one of the cultists from Canterlot Castle itself, or could this be how the coven communicated with whoever was directing them to engineer monster attacks? She tried with all her might to recognize the room, but she had truly never seen it before. For some reason, the door, with all its magical and mundane locks, seemed familiar, but she still couldn’t place her hoof on why it should be so.
In a bookcase filled with ancient and evil manuscripts that were falling apart, Berry spotted a thick stack of notes on fresh parchment. Out of curiosity, she pulled them down and paged through them. It was as if she’d hit the jackpot; the coven, made up of business-minded ponies, had meticulously written down and dated all of their activities. As Shadowmere had expected, they’d been behind the disappearances of ponies for years. The tone of the writings grew more fantastic as Berry approached the current date, and her heart raced. She read the latest entry, and dropped the pile of papers onto the nearby desk.
“I found something that will help us track them down,” Shadowmere announced as he trotted into the room with a small wooden box, “It seems they all added clippings of their hooves into this box when they joined.”
“How long will it take to track them down?” Berry asked, and didn’t wait for an answer before continuing solemnly, “They’re going to open a Gate for Yx tonight.”
“Tonight. Of course,” Shadowmere said as he set the box down, “Why must it always be last minute? You know, sometimes I think that our lives are dictated by somepony who finds it terribly exciting to make us race the clock.”
“Will we be able to stop them in time?” Berry asked.
“We interrupted their final sacrifice, so that will delay them. They must find a new sacrifice before they can proceed with opening the Gate,” Shadowmere said, “We do have some time, but there’s no point in delaying.”
With that, the immortal assassin grabbed the box of hoof-clippings and dashed up and out of the coven’s hideout. Berry followed him up and then back down to the floor of the Nocte Corporation’s lobby (which was still on the thirty-seventh floor). Just past the elevators was a large wall with a map of Equestria, important cities and Nocte Corporation sites marked. Where they had built skyscrapers, there was even a little building poking out of the map, with Matriarch and Hierarch Towers covering Canterlot.
Shadowmere said a few words over the box of hoof-clippings before tossing them into the air. As if a magnet had grabbed them, ten of the clippings shot toward the map, while the others (belonging to dead ponies), fell to the ground. All ten of the clipping clung to the Nocte Corporation’s skyscraper in Fillydelphia.
“Well, now we know where they are. We just need to get there,” Berry said.
A soft whirr and a ding sounded from behind them as the elevators became active. Though they’d tried to be stealthy in breaking into the building, time had been more important, and they apparently hadn’t managed to keep their presence here completely secret. Either the police or internal security were on their way, and Berry and Shadowmere had no desire to tangle with them. They had bigger fish to fry.
“We’ll have to go by passage,” Shadowmere said, and Berry nodded.
Shadowmere trotted around the lobby a bit before he located an optimal point and clapped his hooves together. The building went gray and wobbled alarmingly as the portal solidified, revealing the dark tunnel of Shadowmere’s personal passage. The two ponies stepped through, and the Nocte Corporation offices had returned to normality by the time the elevator doors opened and the police stepped through.
***
Berry had traveled through Shadowmere’s passage once before, from Canterlot to Stalliongrad, but it was still an eerie experience. It was nowhere near as alarming as the first passage she’d traveled through, an empty wasteland with nothing but monsters, but it was strange in other ways. The whole realm appeared to be series of interconnected tunnels through haphazardly piled stones. It looked like they could collapse at any moment and bury whoever was inside them. It was also incredibly silent, and apart from scattered patches of phosphorescent mushrooms and the light of Berry’s electric torch, it was pitch black.
Shadowmere was leading the way through the passage, and stopped momentarily as he heard a noise other than pony hooves. After a moment, Berry heard it too. At first, it was just a low hum, but it progressively grew louder and began to sound more like an oncoming wave. Just what it was a wave of, though, was unclear. It was far too sluggish to be water, but didn’t seem to be earth, either; perhaps mud?
“Run!” Shadowmere said before galloping off into the darkness.
As Berry chased after him, more odd sounds began to surface in the passage. The tunnel began to shake to the sound of crumbling, crackling stones. The wave grew louder, and seemed now to be coming distinctly from the right. Small rocks dislodged themselves from the tunnel walls and clattered to the ground. Large rocks came next, leaving gaps in the wall and revealing what laid beyond. Through a large hole, she looked out upon a cosmic vista, vast clouds of stardust spiderwebbed by rocky tunnels like the one she was in. In the other direction, where the sound was emanating from, the tunnels were being smashed to bits by an onrushing mountain of indescribable colors.
“What is that?” Berry yelled breathlessly as she put on extra speed.
“Something knows we’re here, and it wants us out of this passage,” Shadowmere replied as he took a sharp left turn.
“I thought you said this passage was abandoned!”
“That’s not from this passage!” he replied, taking a sharp right.
“Yx?” Berry asked, wondering if she’d just seen an Old God without realizing it.
“Possibly, though I can’t see why it would interfere with us,” Shadowmere said, “Unless it’s after me .”
“Why would Yx be after you?” Berry asked.
Instead of replying, Shadowmere summoned a long knife, and looked through the holes in the crumbling tunnel at the oncoming wave. It was dangerously close now, and he had no choice. Jabbing the knife into the opposite wall, he sliced through stone and air to create a gash in the fabric of the passage. The gash tore open and immediately air flowed into it in a rushing wind.
“Go through!” Shadowmere commanded, and Berry obeyed, jumping through the portal into another passage.
Shadowmere jumped through immediately after, and the gash sealed itself back up just before the wave of color and sound smashed apart what was left of the tunnel.
***
In an abandoned room with three walls and no furniture atop a crumbling skyscraper, a knife blade suddenly appeared in the air and slashed diagonally. A hole in the air appeared long enough for two ponies to stumble through, and then vanished. Shadowmere and Berry took a moment to observe their new surroundings and catch their breath.
“Do you hear that?” Berry asked, and Shadowmere cocked his head, hearing all kinds of things around them, “That wave isn’t here. Did we escape it?”
“I doubt it’s that easy,” Shadowmere said as he trotted up to the edge of the skyscraper and looked down, “That wave didn’t chase us through passage after passage just to give up now. More likely, it was trying to force us into this passage.”
“I thought at first it might be somewhere in our world, but I’m glad that it’s just a passage,” Berry said as she looked out on the ruined city and the distant sea of pitch.
“This is a large passage, and one filled with monsters,” Shadowmere said, backing away from the edge, “I sense places here that are close to the mortal world, though. We may be able to cut through before whatever we’ve been herded here for occurs.”
Shadowmere took out the knife he’d used to jump them from passage to passage and whispered a few words. The blade began to levitate beside him, and it spun to point the way to the nearest weak point in the passage. There was the crumbling ruin of a many-tiered palace not too distant, and the blade appeared to be pointing to its top; that was where they would go first.
Berry conjured up her magic sword and Shadowmere summoned Daybreak before they began to descend the skyscraper. Given the number of monsters that surrounded them, it was unwise to engage them, and yet it was difficult to hear the sound of evil things skittering around in other rooms and the exterior of the tower and choose not to do something. This world belonged to the monsters, though, and hunters of monsters were the hunted here.
At the bottom of the tower, they had no choice but to step out into the open. A long road led directly to the palace, but hideous beasts stalked all down its length. They would never be able to fight them all, or make a run for it, leaving only the option of creeping along and hoping to take each one out before the others noticed.
Berry drew out her crossbow, and lined up a shot on the nearest monster, a massive centipede with crab pincers and a noseless unicorn’s head at one end. Before she could fire, something scrambled down the outside of the building and a scaly tail hung down in the doorway, blocking the shot. Shadowmere approached the tail, stabbed Daybreak into it, and yanked the beast down, stabbing it again in its center mass. As he killed the miniature wyvern with no head and a belly covered in eyes, Berry fired at the centipede creature, and it combusted internally as the bolt found a chink in its chitinous armor.
She kept her crossbow pointed high as she backed out of the skyscraper, but nothing was clinging to the exterior nearby, and nothing farther away saw her. Shadowmere followed, brandishing Daybreak, and they continued together down the road. Twisted trees sprouted up through the cobblestones here and there and seemed to shift as the ponies passed them. One of them opened a seam in its trunk like a mouth, and Berry noted mentally not to stand near them. They weren’t mobile, and they couldn’t give off noise to give away the ponies' presence, but there was still a danger of being eaten by the trees, something that seemed absurd even to a Ministry agent.
Down the road, another beast approached Berry and Shadowmere, jumping over a pile of other monsters it had just killed. It was shaped roughly like a rhinoceros, except for the claws at the ends of its legs and the leathery bat wings on its back. As it spotted them, its face split in four places, unfolding to reveal rows of sharp teeth. It squealed as it jumped into the air and surged toward them. A bolt from Berry’s crossbow shot through one of its wings, and it turned unexpectedly, landing nearby. Another bolt to its head killed it, but its death hadn’t gone unnoticed.
More squeals came from above, and Berry and Shadowmere ducked into the nearest building. Another rhinoceros creature landed on the road, and prodded the dead one with its horn before stalking around, looking for what had killed it. Its mouth flaps quivered unnervingly as it circled the area, sniffing for unfamiliar smells. As it stopped in front of the building the ponies were hiding within and its breathing grew heavier, Shadowmere jumped up and stabbed Daybreak through its throat, the monster squealing and shuddering as it slid off his blade.
The first death had attracted some attention, and this one attracted more. Up and down the road, monsters moved in to see what had killed the rhinoceros-creatures. Some of them snapped each other up as they came, but it was still too many to fight face-on. As they began to congregate outside the building, Berry grabbed a flask of oil and threw it over the crowd of monsters. When it shattered, the oil spread out over the entire area, coating monsters and building alike. With a spell, Berry ignited the oil, and a massive blast of flame covered the area.
Every creature around saw the sudden burst of fire and was drawn to it, but by the time they arrived, Berry and Shadowmere had already fled to another building. With all the monsters in one place, they took care to avoid the gathering and made their way to the palace.
The palace was surprisingly empty. Only a few monsters lurked here, and never in groups of more than two, so they were easily handled. Yet, despite the decrease in monsters, the palace somehow felt more dangerous, as if a sinister presence was nearby. Even though Shadowmere was not a unicorn, he could sense it far more potently than Berry, and the overwhelming pressure only mounted as they neared the upper levels of the palace.
At last they reached the top of the palace and entered a vast plaza and dead garden. Shadowmere used the knife again to find the way back to Equestria, and they followed it until it pointed straight up. Yet, there was nothing above them and no way to get there. The knife quivered and fell as the sinister presence grew stronger.
“Shadowmere…” a voice whispered from the ruins of the palace.
Berry was frozen in place as the source of the voice made itself known. Rearing up before them was a vast, shapeless blob of tentacles, horns, pincers, and eyes. Although the passage itself was overwhelmingly gloomy, the light around this creature seemed to shift even more to draw shadows in. Voices buzzed within Berry’s head as the Old God reached out in thousands of tongues to communicate.
“Shadowmere, have you returned to me?” the Old God asked, inclining a part of the blob that seemed to have more eyes than the rest.
“I don’t know you,” Shadowmere replied with remarkable steadiness.
“Not know me?” the Old God said, and layers of tentacles, claws, and serrated beaks began to unfold like a grotesque flower to reveal the front half of a hooded pony, whose mouth moved when the creature spoke next, “I am hurt that you would forget me, your old master?”
“Nocte,” Shadowmere said, looking at the pony whose hood was part of her face, “You’re not her, not anymore. No, you’re Yx now.”
So, this was Yx: Yx the Oncoming, Yx the All-Knowing, Yx the Cleanser. Yx, who had been formed from destruction out of the draconequi Nocte, Hermaehorse Mora, and Clopicus Vile. And Shadowmere had once served this Nocte, apparently. Yet, he hadn’t known that she still existed within Yx, maybe even as the dominant personality. Though, his fear that Yx had been herding them here to get him certainly suggested he’d suspected it.
“I am Yx …” the Old God said as it reared up, the mare still visible with outstretched hooves, “And I am also Nocte … and Hermaehorse Mora … and Clopicus Vile. I am all and more.”
“And you would have me do what, fall down and worship you? Sacrifice ponies in your name?” Shadowmere challenged the entity with the power to destroy all around them, “I won’t. I no longer serve you.”
“Did you ever, really? You did my bidding, but you had another master, one who exists even now as he did at the beginning. He was not transformed by the destruction of the Beyond and Aetherius. He is still out there somewhere. But, where, Shadowmere? Will you return to him? You know I cannot allow that. Once I was his inferior, but now we are nearer to equals, and every piece in the game counts in a battle between gods.”
“You will lose if you play against him,” Shadowmere said boldly as the massive blob coiled and twisted, the pony part disappearing among the layers of grotesquerie, “I cannot aid you in this. Did you think I would join you in exchange for your holding off the destruction of the mortal world?”
“My, but you’re worried,” Yx thundered, and streaks of multicolored lightning tore across the sky, “If it’s the truth you want, I couldn’t care less when your world is destroyed. I watch and wait, like all Old Gods. My patience is boundless. One day, a Gate will open, and when it does, I will enter your world, but how soon that happens is none of my concern.”
“So, you really only chased us here because you wanted to speak to Shadowmere?” Berry spoke up. It doesn’t know about the cultists trying to summon it. So much for the All-Knowing.
“I did, but as he is uncooperative, his fate must be destruction in this realm.” Yx replied menacingly, “I know you not, but you shall share his fate.”
Without warning, braziers all around the dead garden burst to light, and pillars of flame shot into the heavens. A vast hole appeared in the sky, growing until it was ringed by the fire shooting up from the palace. Craning her neck, Berry looked down upon an Equestrian city still steeped in the darkness just before dawn.
“Shoot this through,” Shadowmere said quietly as Yx’s eyes turned to look up at the Gate to the mortal world.
He passed to her a small, smooth stone with a glowing rune inscribed upon in. Berry carefully attached it to one of her crossbow bolts and shot it upward. The bolt began to lose momentum as it neared the Gate, but then sped up again as it shifted from rising to falling. After several seconds, Shadowmere grabbed Berry, and the realm of Yx vanished, replaced by the rooftop of a skyscraper. Nearby lay the bolt and stone, which had allowed Shadowmere to perform a teleportation across realms with the aid of the fetish he had.
Now that everything was right-side-up, Berry was able to recognize their surroundings. As she’d already guessed, they were in Fillydelphia. The eastern sky over the ocean was just beginning to lighten, and most ponies were probably still asleep, unaware of the terror looming over their city. Through a great circle in the sky, Yx stared down, and as the Gate shifted in its realm, began to protrude through. Storm clouds gathered, and multicolored lighting flashed among them, drawn to the spire of the skyscraper directly beneath the Gate: Cardinal Tower, Fillydelphia headquarters of the Nocte Corporation.
“The Gate is opened,” Berry said as she looked out upon the menace over the city.
It had let them escape Yx’s passage (and Yx), but now it was about to let the Old God through. The crazed writings of the Yx cultists and Yx’s own words made it clear once it was here. All the world would be destroyed, “cleansed,” according to the cultists. Chaos and madness would consume the land until nothing was left.
“Yx isn’t through yet. It’s not over,” Shadowmere said as he retrieved the stone and crossbow bolt, “Can you teleport us to Cardinal Tower?”
“I can try,” Berry said, visualizing the skyscraper.
For success, the caster of a teleportation spell needed to have a clear image of their destination. It was possible to teleport to an area within sight without a precise image, but there tended to be variability in the destination. When teleporting to a skyscraper, that could either mean emerging in a different room than you’d planned, or outside with nothing beneath your hooves. Because of this, Berry purposefully focused on the exterior of the building and teleported herself and Shadowmere to a ledge.
One broken window later and they were inside of Cardinal Tower. The elevators were still a dangerous prospect, so they made their way up the remaining floors using the stairs. Shadowmere had been able to sense their evil back in Matriarch Tower, and now that they were engaged in a terrible ritual, Berry could sense it too.
One last flight of stairs took them up to the highest level of the building, the “Skyservatory,” according to the promotional signs. Cardinal Tower came to a point at its top, and the entire space from where it began to narrow was empty of floors. Instead, it was a tourist attraction, where ponies could come to look out over the city of Fillydelphia for a small fee. Although the exterior showed that the building continued, the interior sloping walls and ceiling were enchanted to display the view from the outside, so that you seemed to be standing atop the building itself with nothing between you and the sky. The sight was probably stunning on a pleasant day, but right now it looked as if Yx was directly overhead and growing closer.
The cultists were arranged in the center of the room in a circle with their left forehooves on each other’s backs, chanting in a tongue Berry had never heard before. To put an end to it, she threw a bomb into the center of the circle. Spikes shot out in all directions … and deflected off the cultists’ magical shields. Five of the cultists separated out while the others continued their chanting.
Shadowmere charged at one with Daybreak, but the magic greatsword could not penetrate the ward. The cultist grinned as he recited dread words, but Shadowmere produced a pouch of dust and blew it onto the ward. The magical shield solidified, and the cultist’s grin vanished as Shadowmere’s hoof shattered the brittle shield and struck his face. Clutching his broken nose, he tried to scramble out of the way, but was unable to escape Daybreak as it stabbed through his throat.
Berry had two in front of her, and took advantage of every moment she had before they realized their black magic wouldn’t work on her. Her magic sword grated against one of their shields, sparks of sorcery flying, while she fired her crossbow at the other. The crossbow was more successful, as an enchanted bolt was able to pierce the shield and explode behind the cultist. As Berry traded the positions of her weapons to finish the fallen cultist off with her sword, the other managed to grab her crossbow with her magic. Berry ducked as a bolt whizzed past her head, but quickly responded. The rapier at her side flew from its sheath and the pommel struck the cultist in the forehead, disorienting her long enough for Berry to spin the blade around and jam it under her chin.
An additional cultist had detached herself from the chanting circle to join another who was trading blows with Shadowmere, deflecting Daybreak with a conjured weapon. A crossbow bolt flew across the room and took the original opponent unawares, lighting him on fire. As he combusted, Shadowmere turned his attention to the newcomer, dodged a blade made out of shadow. Sketching a rune on the ground as he dodged, Shadowmere waited for the right moment before summoning a patch of thorns that tore upward through the cultist’s body and lifted her impaled corpse into the air.
Berry charged toward the remaining cultist not involved in the chant, who ignored her and drank down a vial of oddly colored blood. His shield vanished and he appeared to be in great pain as a transformation swept through his body. Claws sprouted from his forehooves and his tail fell out, replaced by a spiny whip-like tail. His jaw split down the middle and horns sprouted from the sides of his head. The monstrous beast galloped toward Berry, and she slid beneath him as she dodged, firing a bolt into his hindquarters. Claws scraping across the tiles, the creature spun around and charged again, rearing up onto its hindlegs instead of pouncing. Berry was forced to retreat haphazardly as the claws swung for her neck repeatedly. Two more crossbow bolts found their way into the creature before it gave up on attacking in this manner and leaped to the side. Using the invisible wall, it pounced at Berry from above, who fired one more bolt into the beast before rolling away.
Now that all four had pierced its hide, they began to take effect. From the site of each bolt, the monster’s flesh began to stiffen and turn to stone. Realizing what was happening, it tried to get to Berry, but flakes of stone and dust peeled off as it struggled to move. Eventually, the entire creature was solid rock, and it moved no longer.
Another cultist had had a similar idea, only it had transformed itself into a creature with wings, and it circled over Shadowmere, spitting acid at him whenever it got the chance. His duster was no ordinary article of clothing, however, and the acid rolled off his back to sizzle on the floor. From his belt, he drew a boomerang, and threw it at the flying cultist. The serrated edge sliced through one leathery wing, and as the beast fell ponderously to the floor, Shadowmere caught the spinning weapon and finished it off with it.
Three cultists were left, and two of them broke off to allow the third to continue the chant, her lips moving faster and faster as she rushed to complete the ritual that would fully bring Yx into this world. One came for Berry, and one for Shadowmere. The cultist headed for Berry summoned up and levitated a long, black staff that exuded cold. As he dragged it along the ground, the tiles froze and cracked.
Berry jumped back as he swung the staff at her head. She conjured up her magic sword, but the staff whistled right through the blade when she tried to use it to block. He also was able to deflect her crossbow bolts, and the mare was consistently on the defensive, backing toward a wall she couldn’t see. As she nearly stumbled over a fallen cultist, he brought the staff down at her and struck the corpse instead. Ice quickly spread, and a sizable frozen chunk of the pony came with the staff as he yanked it away. The idea came to Berry as she felt the wall against her flank. The cultist lunged in with his staff, and she teleported behind him. The staff struck the wall and stuck momentarily, and Berry bucked the cultist into it. Impaled by his own magical weapon, he froze solid, and the staff vanished with his death.
Meanwhile, Shadowmere was battling the CEO of the Nocte Corporation. With her magic, she summoned the blood of the fallen cultists into weapons to strike at Shadowmere. They gave way to Daybreak, but there were so many that he was in danger of being overwhelmed. Speaking an incantation, he summoned a temporary barrier around himself to hold off the blood weapons, and threw Daybreak at the cultist. As she dodged out of the way, the weapon was able to reach its true target, decapitating the only cultist left still engaged in the ritual.
“No!” the last living cultist screamed as their work was undone.
Multicolored lightning pulsed menacingly as Yx retreated back into the sky and the Gate closed up. The clouds dispersed, making way for a clear day lit by the sun peeking over the horizon now. With a shout of anger, the cultist shattered Shadowmere’s barrier and sliced him to pieces with her blood weapons. As his decapitated, dismembered body tumbled to the ground, Berry fired a crossbow bolt at the cultist. A pool of blood shot up and caught it before it reached her, containing it as it exploded. She slowly turned as all the blood in the room flowed to her across the ground and up to the corners of her mouth.
“You,” the cultist said heavily, with a visible blaze in her eyes as she stared at Berry, “You’re finished.”
“No, you are,” said Shadowmere’s voice.
“What?” the cultist said as she spun back around in shock.
“Believe me, my blood is the last thing you want inside you,” his decapitated head said.
Spikes of blood tore apart the cultist’s body from the inside, and she fell to the floor, disbelieving what had just occurred. Most of the blood that drained from her behaved normally, but some of it flowed back to Shadowmere’s body and into his veins before drawing together his parts into a whole pony once more. It was rather sickening to watch, and Berry turned away until he was completely reassembled and rose from the floor. She’d seen him die and come back once already, experienced it even, in The Lycanthrope Kingdom , but it was still disturbing that he could come back from something that would kill practically anything else. His undeath was far from just immortality; it was a literal inability to die. Sometimes she forgot just how different he was from a normal pony, especially as he looked up into the sky just like she did to confirm that Yx was truly gone.
***
Somewhere in the distance, a building crumbled to the ground, burying the hideous beasts dwelling within. Upon the great, many-tiered palace, Yx still ruled this passage. The chance to rule another realm had come, and gone, but it would surely come again, and Yx had a great deal of patience. Oh well. The multicolored lightning continued to crackle on the horizon. The great sea of pitch continued to crash against the shore. The monsters continued to kill each other as they scuttled among the ruins of an abandoned world.
And Yx waited.
***
Atop the Moon Tower, three bat-ponies blended in with the statues. Some time had passed since Yx’s near entry into the mortal realm, yet they knew what outcome to expect. Now it had simply come to pass, and there was not much to say.
“The Nocte Corporation is no more,” one of them spoke up, glaring at the newest member.
“It is to be expected,” the leader said, “It could serve our purposes no longer, anyway. The coven had grown out of control. If they had actually managed to summon their Old God, it would have been disastrous for us. The Deathwalker saved us a great deal of work in putting an end to them.”
“And now he controls the Nocte Corporation,” the third replied remorsefully, “Although he has broken it into hundreds of smaller companies, there is a chance he could deduce our plans from the records they kept. Forgive me. I should not have acted so rashly in bringing the lobgoblin here.”
“What’s done is done,” the leader said, putting his hoof down, “The Deathwalker will learn nothing he didn’t know already, or anything to compromise us, I can assure you. In the grand scheme of things, the plan continues on. We must move swiftly now to complete it. The time for Her return fast approaches.”
“Is somepony there?” the unicorn asked fearfully as she swept her flashlight across the graveyard.
Canterlot was a usually fairly safe city, but odd disappearances of many ponies without explanation over the past several months had made some suspect that everything was not as it seemed. The Ministry was busier than ever, spring bringing yet another spike in monster activity, yet this simple caretaker couldn’t know that. All she knew was that she’d heard a noise in the graveyard she was supposed to be watching over, and it was her job to investigate. She hoped that it was just some foals up to mischief that she could scare off with her presence; if it was anything else, then she’d run as fast as she could to the nearest police station.
The mare jumped in fright as a crash came from within the graveyard, and she swung the flashlight around to where it had come from. She slowly advanced toward where the sound had originated, the back of the morgue, while keeping an eye on her escape route. The graveyard was divided into several sections, with iron fences running between them. In each of these fences were several gates, and the mare became more uneasy when she saw that something had smashed the locks on one gate in each fence, creating a path toward where she’d heard the crash. At least now she didn’t need to fish out her keys, but she’d definitely be speaking to the Canterlot Police Department about this property damage once she tracked down the culprit.
It was easy enough to locate the source of the crash; the doors to the morgue had been smashed in. The uneasy feeling in the mare’s stomach continued to grow as she illuminated the damage with her flashlight, but she continued on. What was she going to tell the police, that something had smashed the locks and door to the morgue, but she didn’t know what? She followed the shuffling sounds to the room where bodies were kept as they awaited burial, and she spotted the culprit.
One body had been removed from its cooler, and a gangly figure was hunched over it, barely visible in the dim light provided by gas lamps on the walls. The creature stood on two legs, arms ending in claws extended over its prey, though it did not sink them into the dead body. A pale, bluish mist floated up from the corpse into the creature’s mouth as it drained the pony’s soul. The graveyard caretaker shook as she turned her flashlight on the monster, drawing its attention. Its form was feline, with a coat black as pitch but for a white diamond in the center of its chest. As it turned toward the caretaker, ethereal remnants dripped down from its mouth and whiskers.
The mare screamed and backpedaled as the creature lunged toward her, but it was too late. Her flashlight bounced off the ground as she fell with deep punctures in her neck and side. The monster waited for her to die before partaking of her soul as well. It didn’t have to wait long.
Darkest Shadows
***
Beryl looked with concern at the Ministry’s status board as she entered their secret base within Canterlot Mountain. The Ministry was facing an historic number of monster attacks, and they were stretching thin. Attacks were especially bad around Canterlot and within Equestria proper, and agents from the more distant Equestrian territories were being reshuffled to face the threat. Some of the Ministry’s bureaucrats had gone to the trouble of digging up the old records and confirmed that things hadn’t been this bad in five hundred years. The Ministry had been much smaller then, and Beryl tried to fathom how they’d been able to cope with so many monsters on a regular basis. Then again, ponies had been more used to monster attacks back then; the Ministry’s ceaseless efforts to eradicate all beastly threats to Equestria had made its citizens too comfortable. Even so, they couldn’t allow things to return to the way they’d been centuries prior; that would be disastrous, especially with the thousandth summer sun celebration coming up, and ponies calling it the beginning of a new Equestrian golden age. They couldn’t know how close the nation really was to slipping into chaos.
“Hey, Berry!” Rolling Thunder greeted the senior agent, practically dive-bombing her, and she rolled her eyes, “Better find an assignment before all the good ones are taken.”
“I don’t think there’s much chance of that,” Beryl replied, looking again at the threat board.
“That’s true, that’s true,” Rolling Thunder laughed, “Though I wouldn’t mind if things died down a bit . Well, I’m off to hunt down a cockatrice in the sewers, so I’ll see you around.”
“I’m sure I will,” Beryl replied begrudgingly, but the pegasus had already taken off.Why does he think I’m his friend?
Agents were running around all over the place frantically, many of them casting worried glances at the status board. Beryl made her way through the chaos, eventually reaching her office. She didn’t have a chance to sit down, though, for a note had been left on her desk requesting her presence in Siren’s Song’s office the moment she got in. Dropping off her saddlebags, she complied and headed straight to the deputy director’s office. She was let in immediately, and was surprisingly not the only pony who’d been summoned. Adamant was there as well, the first Knight of Dawn she’d met, causing Berry to wonder what Siren’s Song was up to. She got her answer soon enough, as Siren’s Song placed an anti-eavesdropping talisman on his desk the moment the door shut behind her.
“Sorry about the short notice, but I have an urgent job for the two of you,” the deputy director began, taking a seat behind his desk and magically closing the curtains over the windows overlooking the Ministry’s foyer, “Officially you’ll be on this job as agents of the Ministry, but unofficially you’ll also need to report what you find to the Knights of Dawn. The Black Briar contacted me this morning. Something very dangerous is in Canterlot, hidden beneath all the other monster attacks drawing our attention, and he’s given me enough information to pinpoint a case that will put the two of you in a position to investigate.”
“Are two of us necessary?” Adamant asked, giving voice to the question Beryl had but hadn’t wanted to say, “We’re both solo operators, usually.”
“The Black Briar insisted,” Siren’s Song said with authority, “He stressed that this was a threat that required the skills of multiple ponies. Unfortunately, with the heightened threat the Ministry is facing, Director Thistleback isn’t keen to allow the formation of teams, at least not until the threat is identified and she's giver her approval that multiple ponies are required, but I’ll try to keep things quiet. Good luck, you two. Given the importance of this, I’d come along too, but my absence wouldn’t go unnoticed. Make your fellow knights proud.”
***
As so often happened, the Canterlot Police Department had gotten to the scene of the attack first. As the number of monster attacks grew, this was also becoming more common, and the Ministry was investing nearly as much time keeping things hushed up within the CPD as they did actually tracking down monsters. There was no crowd here, at least; ponies would gather in hordes if part of a street were barricaded off, but nopony had the inclination to break into a graveyard to see why there was a police wagon parked outside. Beryl and Adamant flashed their badges to the officer waiting at the gate to the graveyard and made their way to the morgue, where a familiar grizzled stallion waited.
“Agent Berry, a pleasure to be working with you again,” Grey Wind greeted her as she and Adamant reached the scene of the attack.
“What can you tell us, Grey Wind?” Beryl asked as she examined the scene visually and Adamant trotted into it to get a better look.
“Not much, I’m afraid,” the police officer admitted, “We’ve got one new stiff with eight puncture wounds, but there’s none of the usual gnawing or mutilation you’d expect to see if it was really a case for you and your friend. If it weren’t for those wounds, I’d have considered it a normal murder and not gotten you involved.”
“She’s awfully cold, isn’t she,” Berry said as she bent over the body lying in the hallway.
“Is she? I suppose, but no more than usual for somepony who lost her life several hours ago,” Grey Wind said.
“Was there something on this table that your officers have moved?” Adamant asked.
The cold Beryl had sensed was a magical void that she hadn’t recognized as such, but her comments had reminded Adamant of the sensation she’d felt in her wandering investigation. As an earth pony, of course Grey Wind wouldn't have sensed anything, but unicorns like Beryl and Adamant could detect what he couldn’t.
“Yes, there was a body on the table, but he’d been dead for days,” Grey Wind said, “They returned him to his cooler without my permission.”
“Thank you, Grey Wind. I think we have enough at the moment for our investigation. If you’d excuse us,” Beryl said, and the police officer headed outside without question, “This mare was just a caretaker; she wouldn’t have been working on a body, especially not so late.”
“Indeed,” concurred Adamant, “Which means whatever fiend we’re looking for has an interest in bodies that are already dead, though not in eating them, apparently, unless it was scared off.”
“Odd that it would go to the trouble of breaking into the morgue instead of taking advantage of all the graves just outside,” Beryl commented.
“Something interested in reasonably fresh dead bodies, then,” Adamant thought out loud.
So, back to the Ministry, then?” Beryl asked.
“Yes, both of us may have chosen to operate outside of its bounds, but we’re still drawn back,” Adamant said with a snort, “Despite its flaws, it’s still the greatest repository of knowledge on monsters we have.”
***
That night saw Adamant and Beryl back at the graveyard, staking out the morgue. Their search for information at the Ministry had proven fruitless, even after accessing the Deep Archives. Director Thistleback had also taken notice of their unauthorized team-up despite Siren’s Song’s best efforts, and had given the case to another agent, so neither of them were here on legitimate business. As such, they'd both discarded their Ministry uniforms for their hodgepodge outfits as Knights of Dawn, which had turned out remarkably similar. Beryl had hoped to have a chance to get away to Rosethorn Hall and pore through Shadowmere’s books, but there hadn’t been an opportunity; she’d also have no explanation if she suddenly came back with new information, so they were in the dark about what they were facing.
She nudged Adamant to draw her attention as a non-pony figure appeared outside the graveyard. They were cloaked under several spells and hidden in the doorway of an overgrown mausoleum, so the two mares shouldn’t have been worried about being detected, yet even from here, it seemed the creature knew something was amiss and was hesitant to enter. Eventually, the biped overcame its hesitancy and attacked the chain holding the outer gate closed. It made its way through the graveyard, following the same path as before until it reached the morgue. Once more, it looked about suspiciously before tearing down the police canvas over the broken door and entering the morgue.
Adamant and Berry slowly emerged from their hiding place and advanced toward the morgue, weapons at the ready.
Adamant charged into the room, her rapier cloaked in magical fire. With a growl, the monster overturned the preparation table, launching it and the corpse at her. Her sword spun out of her magical grip, and she was thrown back as she was struck. Berry fired another crossbow bolt at the beast, but it managed to dodge it completely this time, and the bolt bounced off the far wall. Hissing, the monster charged Berry and knocked her to the ground with a swipe of its paw, its claws cutting her outfit but leaving her flesh unharmed.
Instead of finishing her off, the monster charged off down the hallway, though not in the direction of the morgue’s exit.
Taking up a position, she leveled her crossbow at the hallway the monster would come down, and fired a bolt when it appeared. It dodged it, but had second thoughts about continuing toward Berry, especially after she conjured up her magic sword. Adamant was close behind it, but it jumped into the air as she swung her rapier at it, and landed with one foot on her back, sinking its claws in. As the monster descended, it sank a foreclaw into the trunk of Adamant’s body, wounding her enough that she dropped her rapier entirely and tried to strike the beast with her hooves.
Berry charged toward the monster, determined to kill it before it could kill Adamant off, or at least distract it long enough for her to get free. Fear flashed in the beast’s slitted eyes, and it pressed its free paw against its chest before touching the wall next to it with that same paw. A portal the same shape as the diamond on its chest appeared on the wall, and it threw Adamant through. Berry swung her sword at the monster, but it was too quick, and her blade only sliced off the tip of its tail as it fled.
Berry pounded on the wall as the portal slammed shut. She could sense neither Adamant or the beast anywhere nearby.might be some way to track the beast’s whereabouts. First, she had to know what she was dealing with, though. It was time to see Shadowmere.
***
“A cat sith,” Shadowmere said after Berry finished explaining the creature, “They sneak into mortuaries to steal the souls of the dead before they are buried. It’s fortunate that there are so few of them.”
“So, have you faced them in the past, then?” Berry asked.
“Once or twice. I haven’t seen one in centuries, though that means nothing for them,” Shadowmere said with a snort.
“Why is that? Do they have incredibly long lifespans?”
“Quite the opposite, in fact,” Shadowmere explained as he pulled down a bestiary on obscure creatures from the bookshelf, “They only live for two decades or so, but they can travel through time, so it makes it difficult to trace them and know if they’ve really been eradicated.”
“Travel through time?” Berry asked, thinking about the portal it’d opened in the morgue.
“Yes, nine times in their life they can open a portal to another time and step through,” Shadowmere said, dropping the heavy bestiary onto a table, the pages settling on an illustration and description of the monster, “It makes hunting them extremely hard, since if they’re cornered, they’ll use the ability to escape.”
“Hmm, we may be in trouble, then,” Berry said with a frown.
“It went through a portal?” Shadowmere asked, already knowing the answer.
“Yes, and that’s not all,” Berry replied, “Before it jumped through, it sent a Knight of Dawn through with it.”
“Oh,” said Shadowmere.
That would make this a sticky situation. Shadowmere had been surprised to hear of the existence of the Knights of Dawn from Berry when he’d returned from investigating the lobgoblin and the Nocte Corporation, but he had nothing against them. As rogue Ministry agents, they weren’t amateurs more likely to get themselves hurt or make things worse than do good. The world could always use more monster hunters, especially with the recent catastrophic rise of monsters in Equestria. However, they were led by a pony who not only claimed to be him, but also looked almost exactly like him.
“Well, I suppose we must go after them, then,” Shadowmere said after a long and thoughtful silence, “It’s a good thing you managed to cut off some of the cat sith’s flesh. We may be able to determine its position in place and time.”
“And travel there?” Berry asked incredulously, “I thought time travel was impossible, except over short spans of time for a short duration.”
“Without a stabilizing element, like an Equine Scroll, yes, but we’re not going to find any of those. With unicorn magic, time travel is incredibly limited, but it’s not a unicorn that’s going to allow us to follow the cat sith,” Shadowmere said, and he flashed a wicked smile with too many teeth, “Pack your things, we’re going on a trip outside of our world.”
***
For all the time that Berry had spent with Shadowmere in the passages, she assumed that no supernatural realm could surprise her, but she was wrong. They had traveled to a realm far older than the passages, a realm that had stood unchanged while the Beyond and Aetherius had collapsed into the passages. This was the Soul Cairn, and it was unlike anything Berry had seen before.
Hills and mountains of ash stretched out in all directions, bones and crystalline formations poking out in places. The sky was a roiling mass of purple energy from which lighting strikes came down from time to time. Buildings of black stone sprouted from the ground in places, worn and weathered by ash blown about on the constant wind that howled through the realm, or lay tumbled in heaps like a giant’s discarded toy blocks.
It hadn’t been easy to get here, but time was of the essence; Adamant had been wounded, and even if she’d managed to escape the cat sith after being thrown through time, she was still in danger. They had traveled through several passages filled with horrors (Shadowmere’s relatively safe one no longer available) and popped in and out of Equestria before reaching a ruined shrine in the Frozen North. A complicated ritual was required to open the way to the Soul Cairn, Shadowmere had explained, before bypassing it with a far easier ritual that used his own blood. The portal had opened, and the two ponies had stepped down into another world.
The Ideal Masters were their goal, and they were the rulers of this realm, powerful and ancient. They’d also taken notice of Shadowmere’s unorthodox method of opening a way in and were waiting for them, as eagerly as beings that had lived thousands of years could. Berry had been warned about them, and yet they still took her breath away as they came into view when she and Shadowmere ascended an ancient obsidian podium to speak to them.
They were enormous , easily the size of any of the Soul Cairn’s mountains, and seemed lofty even from the height of the podium. The four Ideal Masters were seated in a semicircle facing the podium, looking like gigantic ponies taking up the posture of wise sphinxes. Though their bodies were pony-shaped, their flesh was not flesh at all. One was composed entirely of ice, another of stone, a third of fire, and the last of storm clouds and lightning. The elements of which they were made constantly shifted, even as the Ideal Masters themselves remained completely still and silent.
“I see you’ve changed your forms again!” Shadowmere was the first to speak.
“WHY SHOULDN’T WE?” the stone Master asked, boulders rolling off its face as its jaw moved, “THE TIME OF OUR PROPHESIED COMING DRAWS EVER NEARER. WE OUGHT TO LOOK THE PART WHEN WE FULFILL OUR ROLES.”
“You seem eager to get to it!” Shadowmere commented, “I’d be careful if I were you! Prophecies have a tendency to go awry!”
“ENOUGH OF THIS!” the flaming Master demanded, heat radiating from it and causing the obsidian structures nearby to glow, “SURELY YOU, SHADOWMERE, DID NOT COME HERE TO COMMENT ON OUR APPEARANCE OR PROPHECY! WHAT IS THE TRUE PURPOSE FOR YOUR VISIT?”
“My friend and I are tracking a cat sith that has jumped across time!” Shadowmere came to his point, “Knowing that you have certain powers across time, I need you to open a way for us to travel to that time and back!”
“YOUWOULDMAKEDEMANDSOFUS!” the storm Master said incredibly quickly as lightning pulsed, “YOUKNOWHOWTHINGSWORKINTHESOULCAIRN! EVERYTHINGHASIT’SPRICE!”
“I know that you all owe my master several favors!” Shadowmere said boldly, “And I know that you will become his servant as well before your prophesy can come true! You will give us a way to track this cat sith and return!”
Berry watched in awe as the Ideal Masters visibly recoiled from Shadowmere’s words, especially the one made of ice who he’d pointed out. For a moment, they seemed less amazing than before, but they returned to their majesty after a moment of recovery. It was a subdued power, though, as they all now seemed resigned to doing what Shadowmere had asked.
“VERY WELL, WE SHALL DO AS YOU ASK,” the ice Master said as a blizzard swirled around it, “SURELY YOU WERE NOT FOOLISH ENOUGH TO TRAVEL ALL THE WAY HERE TO ASK THE IMPOSSIBLE, SO LET US SEE WHAT YOU HAVE OF THIS CAT SITH.”
Berry produced the tip of the cat sith’s tail, and she felt a strange presence envelop her as it was snatched from her magic and floated out into the expanse between the ponies and the Ideal Masters. It dwindled as it passed into the distance and was consumed by the flames of the fire Master. Two disks of stone covered in strange runes hovered out from the stone Master after a moment, coming to rest on the podium in front of the ponies.
“THE CAT SITH HAS FLED TWENTY-NINE CENTURIES BACK FROM YOUR TIME!” the flame Master spoke, “WE WILL MAKE A WAY TO THIS TIME. WHEN YOU WISH TO RETURN TO YOUR OWN TIME, PLACE A FOREHOOF ON EACH SIDE OF THE DISK!”
“We need a third disk! There’s somepony else we need to bring back!” Berry spoke up, and the stone Master frowned, sending avalanches down its face, but a third disk was provided.
“NOW, BE GONE WITH YOU!” the ice Master demanded as a swirling portal opened up over the edge of the podium, “WE DO NOT WISH TO SEE YOU AGAIN!”
“Thank you for your help!I will be sure to tell my master of your hospitality!” Shadowmere said, and the Ideal Masters grumbled as he and Berry stepped over the podium’s edge and fell into the portal.
Lights flashed around them as they plummeted through the tunnel, traveling backwards in time nearly three millennia.
As Berry stood and brushed herself off, she realized that this place was strangely familiar to her. She had traveled back centuries in time, and everything looked very different, but the shape of the landscape was pretty much the same now as it would be in her time. She could see Canterlot Mountain above the trees, though there was no city perched on the edge of it yet. These forests were still untouched, and the valley below was filled with fields, though there was no Ponyville among them.
“Yes, strange, isn’t it, to see a place so different, and yet so the same from what you remember,” Shadowmere commented as he trotted up next to Berry.
“That would be a common occurrence for you, wouldn’t it,” Berry said, wondering again just how old the ancient stallion was, “Is there any chance we’ll run into you here?”
“No, I was on another continent at this time,” Shadowmere said as he rooted around in his saddlebags, “Here, drink this.”
“What is it?” Berry asked as she took the phial from him and examined it.
“A potion that will allow you to speak and hear the language of those from this time,” he explained as he produced a second phial for himself.
“Why do you need one? Don’t you speak the language?” Berry asked as he downed his potion.
“Yes, but the problem with languages is that they’re constantly changing, something you notice when you’ve been around as long as I have,” Shadowmere said, “The grammar and pronunciation of my Old Ponish would probably be several centuries too early or too late if I tried to speak it.”
Berry shrugged and drank her potion, feeling a tightness in her throat and ears as it took effect. Prepared now to communicate with the locals, she followed Shadowmere down the path. As they trotted along, she tried to place herself in time. Twenty-nine centuries back from her present would mean the current year was around 1600 BC (Before Celestia). It was the third century of the Equestrian Age, the era that had begun with Hearth’s Warming and the unification of the three pony tribes into a single nation. The history of the First Equestrian Nation hadn’t been terribly important to her studies, so she wasn’t sure exactly what the current affairs were. Hopefully this wasn’t a plague year, which hadn’t been uncommon in this age.
Shouts and the sound of a struggle came from up ahead, and Berry and Shadowmere rushed down the path, in case it was the cat sith. The source of the noise came into view as they emerged from the trees. A cockatrice squawked as it flapped around. The monster was pinned in by four ponies in armor with tall, pointed helms and flowing maroon capes. Two unicorn knights herded the cockatrice away from them with blasts of magic and the swing of a halberd. The monster was driven toward the other two knights—an earth pony who crushed a wing and pinned it with a warhammer, and a pegasus who impaled it with thrown lances.
“Hello, strangers!” the unicorn with the halberd called out to Berry and Shadowmere as the cockatrice’s movements ceased, “It is safe to approach now. What brings you here?”
“We are fellow monster hunters, like yourself,” Shadowmere answered without hesitation as he descended to where the knights were beginning to clean their weapons, “We are tracking a dangerous beast.”
“You must have traveled from across the sea; I’ve never seen attire quite like yours,” the pony with the warhammer commented.
Berry looked at her clothes.They were out-of-date in the Equestria she knew, but here they were centuries or millennia ahead. At least she wasn’t wearing her Ministry uniform, as that would really have stuck out.
“Yes, we have come quite a long way,” Shadowmere said tongue-in-cheek, “We’re tracking a cat sith. Perhaps you’ve seen signs of it around?”
“Cat sith?Never heard of it,” the other unicorn said.
“Keeper Candlelight might know more,” the pegasus said enthusiastically, and Berry went rigid as she recognized the voice, “We should take them to see her!”
It couldn’t be him; Roaring Thunder couldn’t be here . Yet, when he removed his helmet, there was no doubt. That dull blue coat and chestnut mane; that smug, self-assured expression; it was Roaring Thunder for sure. But, how could he have traveled back twenty-nine centuries? He’d said he was going to kill a cockatrice, but surely he didn’t mean this . There was no way for him to be here, and yet here he was.It had to be a coincidence. There was no way every pony throughout history looked unique; Berry could even swear she’d seen duplicates herself in her own time. That had to be it. There was no way that Roaring Thunder could have traveled back in time—it had to be a doppelganger.
“Forgive me, my lady, but why do you stare at Sir Roaring Thunder so?” the unicorn with the halberd asked. Even the same name!
“Sorry, I thought we’d met before, but I must be mistaken,” Berry apologized while looking uneasily at the confused pegasus.
“Surely so,” the unicorn agreed, “However, though our young upstart knight has yet to learn his place, his idea is a wise one.
“Yes, we would appreciate that,” Berry said, still trying to shake the weirdness of encountering another Roaring Thunder.
“Excellent. My knights and I are at your service,” the unicorn replied, “I am Paladin Radiant Dawn of the Knights of the Crimson Banner, and this is my cohort: Shining Diadem, Night Trail, and Roaring Thunder.”
“I am Beryl Fields,” Berry introduced herself, catching herself before prepending her name with “agent.”
“And you may address me as Nightshade,” Shadowmere said, and Berry gave him a look.
“A pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Radiant Dawn said as she shifted her halberd on her back, “The sun will set soon; we should get moving.”
***
The six ponies traveled together higher into the mountains. Berry tried to keep track of where they were, but while the major landscape features were the same as in the time she knew, the details were completely different, and she had to readjust her mental picture whenever she caught a glimpse of Canterlot Mountain and could reorient herself. She was also distracted by Roaring Thunder, who looked and acted almost exactly like the pony she knew, but was clearly a different pony. He belonged in this era, yet Berry couldn’t shake the feeling that it was the same pony from the Ministry. No matter how she tried to put the idea out of her mind, it continued to return.
The knights were greeted cheerfully by the townsponies as they reached Grinnsbruk. It was a small, poor settlement, that would be gone long before Celestia took the throne. The town was also surrounded by a palisade, a trait that had once been common, but was now rare across Equestria, thanks in no small part to the Ministry’s work at exterminating the monsters that ponies had built the walls to keep out.
After stopping for a few minutes to speak to the townsponies and give words of encouragement, the knights moved on, trotting down a well-worn path in the forest outside the town. They continued to ascend into the mountains until they reached the castle from which the Knights of the Crimson Banner hailed. Compared to Canterlot Castle, it was unimpressive, but it would do its job. The walls were crude undressed stone, but thick and high, able to keep out most fiends. Atop some of the towers were massive ballistae for taking down flying beasts, and its position in the mountains made approach from all but one direction impossible by land. A drawbridge creaked down over a pony-made chasm whose bottom was lined with spikes, and allowed them to enter the fortress.
Night was falling, and the knights wanted to change out of their armor, so some squires showed Shadowmere and Berry to their chambers for the night. The rooms were very plain and primitive, but Berry could at least appreciate the simplicity of how these knights lived. It was not so different from her life as a Ministry agent, except that she had running water and no townsponies praised her for the work she did. Still, she hadn’t forgotten her goal. The cat sith was here somewhere, and so was Adamant. They needed to locate it, and this era’s Roaring Thunder thought that Keeper Candlelight could help them with that. With no idea how to locate this Keeper, they had no choice but to wait for the knights to fetch them. In the meantime, Berry made her way to Shadowmere’s chamber.
“Oh, it’s just you,” Shadowmere said as she entered, and he ceased trying to hastily put his sunglasses over his blazing red eyes.
“Yes, it’s just me, Nightshade,” Berry said in reply, “How many names do you have ?”
“Truthfully, I fabricated that one on the spot,” the immortal stallion admitted as he more carefully covered up his supernatural eyes, “I could not use my true name, for there is a chance that in this time the name of Shadowmere is still known, and it is not a name that is spoken with any pleasure. Remember, I have not always been a monster hunter; I was once an assassin.”
“Right, of course,” Berry said, snippets of those shared memories from the dreamscape resurfacing momentarily, “You didn’t seem surprised to see Roaring Thunder here.”
“Yes, he’s also a Ministry agent in your time, isn’t he?” Shadowmere said thoughtfully, “The one that cleansed Pewter Belle’s remains before we arrived, right?”
“Yes, that’s the one.I’ve known him at the Ministry for years, and it’s so odd seeing a pony just like him here of all places,” Berry said.
“It’s not as uncommon as you might think,” Shadowmere said, “In fact, I’ve met two other Roaring Thunders than the ones you know.”
“What?” Berry said incredulously, “How? Why? He’s just a-a-”
“Cocky, self-assured fighter?” Shadowmere finished her sentence for her, “Yes, every Roaring Thunder I’ve known has been the same, no matter what era he was born in.”
“Doesn’t that make you at least a little curious as to what’s going on here?” Berry asked, shocked at how calm the stallion seemed.
“It used to, but I’ve been around for a long time, and I’ve seen many strange and unbelievable things. When you’ve been around as long as I have, sometimes you just take oddities as they are without looking for a deeper meaning. It’s either that, or make yourself mad searching for the answer, which may very well be out of reach. This is especially true about phenomena that span time, as it’s highly likely that the cause for this duplication of Roaring Thunder is the future, not the past, so the only way to discover the truth is to wait. I’ve gotten quite used to waiting, and it hasn’t failed me yet.”
“Would the Ideal Masters know?” Berry asked, unable to shake the matter from her mind despite Shadowmere’s stance on the subject.
“Possibly, but the question is, would they answer?” Shadowmere said.
Before Berry could reply that it was worth a shot, there was a knock on the chamber’s door. It was Radiant Dawn, here to take them to see Keeper Candlelight at last. As they followed the paladin down the halls of the castle, Berry finally managed to put her questions about Roaring Thunder out of her mind. The mission came first, but this would not be the end of the matter.
One would think that the room at the top of the castle’s highest tower would be the abode of the order’s grandmaster, but in reality, it was home to the order’s Keeper. Radiant Dawn explained the Keeper’s purpose to Shadowmere and Berry as they made their way up the tower’s many steps. Her job was to write down and maintain all records of the Knights of the Crimson Banner, so the room was filled with scrolls and books, as expected. She also oversaw the scribes who would replace her one day, who for now were given menial tasks like transcription and balancing budgets, but none of her jobs involving quill and parchment were her most important duty. The greatest task entrusted to her was to care for the Crimson Banner from which the Knights took their name. It was a massive tapestry that once had been carried into battle, but was now too long to be carried by any less than a dozen ponies. Woven into it were illustrations of the order’s history, victories and defeats, life and death, all displayed in carefully designed images. The banner wrapped around the room nearly three times, held up by posts knocked into the walls.
“Keeper Candlelight, these are the foreigners I spoke to you about,” Radiant Dawn introduced Berry and Shadowmere as they entered the Keeper’s room.
“Nightshade and Beryl Fields, you must be truly dedicated to chase a monster so far from home,” an elderly unicorn mare said as she turned away from her work on the end of the Crimson Banner, “What was the name of the beast you were tracking?”
“A cat sith,” Shadowmere answered.
“Yes, that was it,” Candlelight said as she pulled down a monstrously large bestiary from its shelf and flipped to a marked page, “Very tricky and dangerous creatures they are, feasting on the souls of the dead and jumping through time to escape.
“So, there is a cat sith around here?” Shadowmere asked as Berry took a satchel of glowing powder from the Keeper.
“Yes, using the methods in this bestiary, I was able to confirm the presence of a cat sith nearby,” Candlelight said, and Shadowmere examined the book, “However long you have traveled, your journey is nearly at an end. The cat sith is higher up in the mountains.”
“Well, let’s go then. We have no time to lose!” Berry said, thinking about Adamant.
“I would urge caution,” Candlelight said, “The cat sith is most alert and powerful in the dark. Judging by the strength of what I sensed, it is likely resting, perhaps from illness or wounds.It will still be there in the morning.”
“I agree,” Shadowmere said, surprising Berry that after they’d rushed across twenty-nine centuries, he was content to wait, “We will have a far better chance of besting the beast in the daylight, after some rest.”
“You shall not be alone in your task,” Radiant Dawn announced as she stepped forward, “My cohort shall accompany you to slay the cat sith. Greater numbers will give us a better chance. Sleep well, and we shall find victory on the morrow.”
***
The Knights of the Crimson Banner departed at dawn the following morning, Shadowmere and Berry in tow. As they made their way through the dense pine forest, Berry began to realize they were headed up the path to Canterlot. Was that where the cat sith was, in the location it had traveled back from? She knew that they could travel anywhere in space in time, but she hadn’t considered before why they were so close positionally to where they’d started. Had the cat sith been so desperate to escape her that it’d only jumped back in time without changing its position in space? If that was the case, it and Adamant would certainly be dead, splattered across the side of Canterlot Mountain. So, if it was still alive (and Keeper Candlelight seemed to think that it was), then it had likely changed position, but only by a short distance.
Berry kept her eyes peeled as they continued their trek, slowing as they continued to ascend. She was the first to spot the broken branches high above them. So, it had dropped them, but not from a fatal height. Following the broken limbs, she found claw marks near the base of one of the trees that were the right size and depth for the cat sith. The Knights of the Crimson Banner also spotted the claw marks, and began investigating the area. Roaring Thunder cried out when he discovered something not far off the path, and the others joined him.
“There was a struggle here,” Shining Diadem said as he probed the area with magic using a technique similar to the one Berry would learn at the Ministry centuries later, even though anypony could tell there’d been a struggle just by looking.
The undergrowth was trampled, and there were claw and hoof marks in the soil.Blood stained the leaves and ground in patches and drops. Magical aura from both a monster and a unicorn lingered in the air. Hope soared within Berry; Adamant had survived at least this far.
“It headed this way,” Shining Diadem announced, pointing farther up the mountain.
“Are you coming, Berie?” Roaring Thunder asked as the knights began to resume their trek and the mare hung back.
“You go on ahead, I want to do a bit more investigating,” Berry said as she tried to determine which direction Adamant had gone after the fight.
The knights seemed reluctant to leave her on her own, but returned to their path anyway. Shadowmere gave her a knowing look before going with them. Once she was alone, Berry returned to investigating the scene of the fight. She managed to sort out the hoof prints, and followed their trail away from the disturbed area, heading farther from the path and deeper into the woods. Eventually, the trail vanished, and the Ministry agent found herself standing alone among the trees.
“Adamant,” she called, not wanting to yell too loudly and catch the attention of the knights, “Adamant, are you here?”
“Beryl, is that you?” a voice came weakly from nearby.
Berry followed the voice to a tree growing on a slope whose roots had been dug out, making a small cave. Adamant revealed herself, lifting her spell of invisibility as Berry drew near. The mare was badly injured; in addition to the marks inflicted in the morgue, her fight with the cat sith had inflicted several new wounds. She’d bound them up as best she could, but losing a lot of blood and spending the previous night in the cold hiding under a tree hadn't left much life in her.
“Where-where are we?” Adamant asked in a daze while she shivered, “How did you find me?”
“That's not important right now; we need to get you home and healed up,” Berry said as she withdrew the spare disk from the Ideal Masters from her saddlebags, “Here, picture somewhere in Canterlot you can fix yourself up.”
Berry moved Adamant’s forelegs for her, and she disappeared the moment both her hooves were on the disk. Berry hoped that she hadn’t just sent Adamant to her death anyway. Ideally, she would have returned to the present with her and made sure her wounds were all treated, but she couldn’t take her with her—it would raise too many questions—and neither could she leave her here and come back later.Hopefully, she’d pictured somewhere another Knight of Dawn would be in case she didn’t feel capable enough to heal herself in her condition.
***
It didn’t take Berry long to catch up with the knights after returning Adamant to her own time. The higher they climbed, the less space there was between the mountain’s face and the sheer cliff, so it was less likely she’d miss them. They were climbing up the side of Canterlot Mountain itself now, and eventually their route took them to the ledge that the city of Canterlot would later be built upon. The cat sith’s trail led to triangular doorway in the mountain’s face, the entrance to a cave Berry knew all too well. It was this cave that would later be enlarged to form the Ministry; strange that the cat sith would choose it as its hiding place.
The plan had been to face it in the daylight, where it would have less of an advantage, but that wasn’t an option unless they could draw it out of the cave somehow. They couldn’t risk trying that unless they could guarantee it wouldn’t just flee to some other time. Radiant Dawn and Night Trail lit torches, and Shining Diadem and Berry used their magic to illuminate their surroundings as they delved into the cavern. After traveling down a long, twisting tunnel, the ponies came to a small cave from which emanated the sound of heavy breathing.
They had to move quickly the moment they were in; the cat sith would know they were there as soon as light appeared.
“No!” yelled Berry as it touched the wall, but no portal opened, and the cat sith stood bewildered.
It’s used up its nine teleportations!It cannot run! Dropping the powder, Berry drew her crossbow and fired at the cat sith. At the same time, Roaring Thunder threw a pair of lances at it, and Radiant Dawn and Night Trail charged in with their halberd and warhammer. Realizing that its normal exit strategy was unavailable, the cat sith went on the defensive. It dodged Berry’s bolt and one of Roaring Thunder’s lances, grabbing the other and using it to fend off Night Trail’s warhammer. As Radiant Dawn swung at the monster with her halberd, it jumped and landed on the shaft, using it to jump over the paladin.
Shining Diadem never saw it coming as the cat sith landed in front of him and sank its teeth into his neck. He had no time to switch from his illumination spell to a defensive one, and the cat sith tore out his throat. Shadowmere charged in with a sword he’d brought along, and the cat sith threw Shining Diadem’s limp body at him before jumping lithely away.
Shadowmere was between the monster and the cave’s exit, so it was forced to dodge around and deal with the other ponies in the chamber. It jumped over another lance from Roaring Thunder, and swiped at Night Trail with its claws.Swinging his warhammer around, Night Trail struck the beast’s hand with the shaft. One of the cat sith’s feet shot out toward the earth pony, and he released his weapon to avoid the talons in his chest. As the warhammer fell to the ground, the cat sith darted forward, but it wasn’t able to reach Night Trail before Shadowmere’s throwing knives buried themselves in its back.
As it spun to put Shadowmere back in its sight, Radiant Dawn charged with her halberd, and the cat sith barely managed to dodge her swing in time. It was not a move without sacrifice, for the blade sliced off most of the beast’s tail, this time not cauterizing the wound like Berry’s magic blade had. The cat sith somersaulted over Radiant Dawn, but the paladin quickly brought her blade back up, the tip scratching the monster’s ribs as it twisted through the air. It landed on Radiant Dawn’s back, its claws tearing her cape, but not punching through the armor underneath. It raised a claw to swipe her head off, but jumped away as Roaring Thunder threw a lance its way.
Berry rapidly fired crossbow bolts in the cat sith's direction, keeping it on the move, but there were other ponies in the way, causing her to reposition herself if she wanted to continue to be of use. Night Trail had retrieved his war hammer, and he closed in on the cat sith as Radiant Dawn and Shadowmere continued to force it back. He swung his weapon around, and the cat sith reached out with a foot to hold it back, only partially succeeding. That wasn’t its true goal, however, as it swung its good claw around and sliced one of Night Trail’s forelegs off while he was unable to dodge or block. He released his weapon and jumped back with a scream, clutching at the stump. Favoring the foot that had been struck by the war hammer, the cat sith moved in for a killing blow, but Radiant Dawn charged in to intercept.
The cat sith ran from the halberd slash toward Shadowmere, and used three limbs to launch itself over the immortal stallion. His sword cut into its side as it passed over him, but didn’t slow it down. The ceiling was low, and the monster launched itself off it and toward Berry, who was unprepared. Her crossbow twanged as she released the bolt already cocked, but it was only a half-aimed shot and tore through the cat sith’s teeth. Its claws were outstretched as it descended toward her, and there was no time to run or draw or conjure a sword.
“Look out!” Roaring Thunder yelled as he darted in front of her, propelled by his wings from across the cave.
The cat sith’s claws tore through armor and flesh alike, eviscerating the pegasus. Berry couldn’t believe her eyes; Roaring Thunder had just sacrificed himself to save her, a pony he barely knew. The cat sith was also bewildered by the pegasus’s actions, and wasn’t prepared to take any next steps. It was off balance, its claws were still covered in Roaring Thunder’s internal organs, and it was still falling toward Berry, though now over another pony. The Ministry agent drew her rapier as she backed away from the monster, and it crashed to the ground with Roaring Thunder’s body. As the cat sith looked up, she jammed the blade into its eye and out the back of its head, killing it instantly.
Radiant Dawn dropped her halberd and rushed to Night Trail’s aid, and Shadowmere sheathed his sword. The fight was over. Blood sprayed as Berry pulled her sword from the cat sith, and she dropped the rapier as soon as it was free. Using her magic and physical strength, she pushed the cat sith off of Roaring Thunder’s body. There was no doubt that he was dead, with the injuries he had sustained, but his face looked so peaceful. Had he known that Berry would be able to kill it if only she had another second to respond? He’d traded his life for hers, and possibly that of Radiant Dawn as well. He might even have thought his sacrifice would save Shadowmere, not knowing that he couldn’t be killed.
Why? Why did it have to be him ? Why did he, the identical image of the pony Berry so despised in her own time, have to sacrifice his life to save hers? Even in a completely different century, this stallion was able to put her in his debt. Why?
***
“Here, proof that the cat sith is dead,” Berry announced as she poured its head out of a sack onto a low stone table.
The Knights of Dawn, including a bandage-covered Adamant, nodded in approval. After returning to the present, she’d received a message from the Black Briar calling the Knights to meet in the tunnels beneath Canterlot, where Berry had first met them. It was the Black Briar who'd first noticed that the cat sith had been in Canterlot, and she’d had the foresight to bring the head back with her to prove that it was dead. She’d been meaning to present it to the Knights of Dawn anyway, so this worked out well for her.
“Well done,” Verdant Blades said approvingly, “Not just in killing this fiend, but in saving Adamant.”
Adamant inclined her head in appreciation. She apparently had a secret hideout somewhere in Canterlot she’d managed to reach and patched herself up in. Fortunately, she still had no idea that she'd been in the past, having only caught glimpses of the scenery in her fight with the cat sith and struggle to survive. Berry was glad, as this meant she didn’t need to explain how she’d been able to travel back in time.
“Cat siths normally jump through time,” the Black Briar said suspiciously, looking at the disembodied head before staring back at Berry with his immobile mask, “Why didn’t this one?”
“I don’t know. Maybe it was startled and mixed things up, or only jumped a few minutes,” Berry lied.
The Black Briar looked like he still didn’t believe her but wasn’t going to press the matter further. If he could sense the cat sith, had he been able to sense Berry suddenly vanishing from this time as well? If only she could see who was behind the mask, who this imposter was. It didn’t bother her as much as it bothered Shadowmere, but she still felt the dire need to know who was impersonating him, and why.
***
Something was wrong. Shadowmere could sense it the moment he entered his chambers beneath Rosethorn Hall. Given the vast number of powerful and dangerous magical artifacts stored here, he could put it off as the strangeness of returning to a place whose magical balance was always in flux. However, he had taken precautions before leaving, given the events of the past nine months. If something truly was amiss, he would know.
Various subtle runic traps had been placed around his apartments, and he found that several of them had been triggered.definitely not of his doing. Somepony had been in his hideout again. Last time this had happened, a djinn had been released on Canterlot.
Bat wings rustled atop the Moon Tower of Canterlot Castle. The three bat-ponies were less concerned now that they would be seen, but they’d become accustomed to their places among the statues. It was unlikely that anypony would look up at them, not when the castle staff was busy preparing for the summer sun celebration only hours away. This would be the one thousandth time the summer solstice was celebrated, and ponies all over Equestria were excited for the event. They had no idea what was in store for them.
“Everything is in place for Her return,” the leader of the bat-ponies announced, though they each already knew. It was comforting to hear that everything that could be done had been done to ensure their Lady would return without hindrance.
“Celestia’s advisor, Malthus?” the newest member of the trio asked, having not been privy to the intricacies of the plan for centuries like the other two.
“In position,” the leader said affirmatively, “The Usurper will be taken care of before She arrives.”
“And the Deathwalker will not intervene?” the third member asked.
“Both he and the Ministry agent he has been training are in no position to interfere,” the leader said smugly, “The coming of the cat sith was most fortuitous. No further acts need be taken against them at the moment. They will have no part in this.”
The bat-ponies sat in silence for another few minutes. Down below, ponies bustled around preparing things for the dawn that would never come. Up here atop the castle, things were still, as they had been in the night sky for centuries. The stars and constellations were dull, moving with mechanical precision and lacking the vibrancy and life that their Lady had always endowed them with. All that would soon change. They stared at the moon and its horsehead arrangement of craters, watching while the stars around it broke free from Celestia’s tyrannical ordering and flocked to their master.
“Rejoice, my brothers, for Her return is nigh!” the leader called out, “Rejoice at the coming of Nighttime Eternal!”
Darkest Shadows
“See ya, Berry! Have a good solstice!” the stallion behind the counter called out as Beryl Fields left the coffeeshop.
“Same to you, Roan,” Berry replied, levitating the cardboard carrier and its three cups of coffee over another patron entering the shop before she stepped through the door.
It was still dark out, but the streets of Canterlot were filled with ponies. They were all moving in the direction of Canterlot Castle, but at different rates. Fillies and colts rushed around the legs of the adults, ignoring the calls of their parents to stay in sight. Some ponies grouped into clusters of friends making their way to the castle together. Others were doing the same thing Berry had just completed, seeking out caffeine to give them a boost. The summer solstice was always an extremely profitable day for Canterlot’s coffee vendors.
The summer sun celebration would begin soon, and this year’s ceremony was one that couldn’t be missed. Banners bearing the number 1000 were hung everywhere, and some ponies wore glasses shaped like the number, peering through the first two zeroes. It was a momentous occasion, and Berry was glad to be in Canterlot for it. As she hurried through the city, she caught a glimpse of the aeroport and the zeppelins tied up there. One of them bore the name Inquisitiveness on its side, and she had come in on it the night before. She’d been worried she wouldn’t make it in time, but the airship’s captain had wanted to be here as badly as she had and had pushed the vessel to its limits.
“Berry! Over here!” a unicorn mare called out through the growing crowd as she neared the castle.
The mare was not alone; a stallion stood at her side and helped wave to get Berry’s attention. Deftly, she made her way through the crowd without spilling the coffee. Berry rolled her eyes when she saw that the mare was wearing a pair of the novelty glasses, but smiled as she approached the pair.
“Mum and dad,” she greeted them as she embraced them in turn and then passed out the coffees.
“We’re so glad you could make it back in time,” her father said as he directed the group toward Canterlot Castle, “Where did they send you off to this time again?”
“Beyond the Forbidden Jungle,” Berry replied, “There are deserts and cliffs like you’ve never seen. It was quite invigorating, but it’s good to be home.”
“I don’t see why they have to send you to the middle of nowhere all the time,” Berry’s mother commented, “Can’t they send you somewhere close by once in a while?”
“Mum, it’s the Royal Cartography Ministry. The only places that still need to be mapped are far away,” Berry laughed.
“Oh, I know, I just don’t like to think of you all alone out there,” her mother replied.
“I’m not alone, Mum,” Berry reassured her, “There are other surveyors with me, too.”
“Like Stargazer?” her father asked with a sideways glance and a grin.
“Was he on this latest trip?” her mother asked.
“Not that it’s any of your business, but yes, he was,” Berry said, sipping her coffee.
“You’ve been on quite a few trips with him lately, haven’t you?” her mother asked, trying and failing to appear innocent.
“I suppose so, but what’s so strange about that? We work well together. Stargazer is a … friend.”
“Mm-hmm,” was all her mother said in reply.
Berry’s protest was cut off by the blaring of trumpets, drawing everypony’s attention to the stage set up in front of the castle. The square erupted in applause as Princess Celestia appeared, regal as always, and took her position in the center of the stage. Her advisors trailed behind her, taking positions off to the side. Berry’s attention was drawn to one in particular, an earth pony stallion with a coat as black as night. His clothes were several centuries out of date and he was wearing sunglasses, odd at night, but not completely out of place at the summer sun ceremony. Something seemed familiar about him, but Berry couldn’t place her hoof on it.
“Who is that?” Berry whispered to her parents as a functionary droned on about the importance of the sun to pony life, “Did Celestia get a new advisor while I was away?”
“You know who that is,” her father said, perplexed, “That’s Lord Briarheart, he’s been Celestia’s confidant for years. Are you feeling okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” Berry said slowly, also confused.
She knew who Lord Briarheart was, or at least she thought she did. It was all coming back to her, memories of seeing him at events with Celestia, his name in the papers always praised even if nopony knew exactly what job he did for the princess. Something still seemed distinctly … off, though, even if nopony else seemed to notice it. Lord Briarheart. The name brought an itch to her mind as if there were memories that wanted to surface but remained out of reach. She remembered nothing more of this pony, but an unrelated thought came to her mind.
“What’s Celestia doing here?” Berry whispered to her parents, “Isn’t she supposed be in Ponyville this year?”
“Ponyville? For the thousandth summer sun celebration?” her mother laughed, “Why on earth would Celestia spend such an important event in a tiny town like that instead of Canterlot? Really, Berry, are you feeling okay? When was the last time you slept?”
“Just hours ago,” Berry replied, though she was less and less sure of everything around her, “I was sure that-”
Somepony in the crowd hushed her as the functionary finished her speech and Celestia stepped forward on the stage. While everypony else stared at the princess, Berry watched Lord Briarheart. Somehow, he seemed to be just as disoriented as she was at the moment. In his fidgeting, his sunglasses slipped down his nose, and Berry caught a glimpse, just for a moment, of a blazing red eye.
He wasn’t a pony! Lord Briarheart was something else! Suddenly, memories sprang unbidden to her mind. Tracking Lord Briarheart through the streets of Canterlot. She was an agent, not of the Royal Cartography Ministry, but of the Ministry. She’d followed him to his home, learned he was the Black Briar, and more. There were monsters out there, and they’d hunted them together.
Nopony in the crowd around her paid her any mind as she tried to grapple with these new memories. The gargoyles, the tantibus, the djinn, harmless vampires, and the lobgoblin. She and Shadowmere—yes, that was his true name—had hunted them down together. Rholharrak the werewolf, former friend of Shadowmere, and the Nocte Corporation’s witch coven, who’d tried to bring Yx to Equestria. The cat sith and the Knights of the Crimson Banner in the past and Roaring Thunder’s sacrifice to save her.
It all came rushing back in a torrent, memories incompatible with the world she was in. Celestia wasn’t supposed to be in Canterlot; Shadowmere stayed in the shadows; she was a Ministry agent, not a surveyor; and her parents … Her coffee fell from her magical grasp and splashed against the cobblestones.
“Dear, what’s going on?” Berry’s mother—not her mother—asked, but Beryl Fields was already pushing herself through the crowd.
“Shadowmere! Lord Briarheart! Shadowmere!” Berry called as she neared the stage.
She was momentarily blinded as the sun, bright and enormous, rose over the horizon, turning Celestia and the other ponies onstage to silhouettes. Celestia’s royal guard moved to block her as she approached, but she zapped aside their spears and jumped over them, using her magic to give her a boost onto the stage. Shadowmere was looking at her now, and though she couldn’t see through his heavily tinted glasses, she was sure there was realization dawning in his eyes.
“Shadowmere!” she called as he staggered backwards and Celestia’s other advisors gave him some distance.
“I’m fine. I’m fine,” he assured her as he steadied himself, “I just have more memories to reclaim than you.”
Berry looked around them. The guards weren’t coming to throw her off the stage. The crowd was completely silent. Everypony was motionless, as if frozen in time. Even Princess Celestia had paused mid-sun-raising, her horn still lit up from the action.
“What’s going on? Where are we?” Berry asked, “What happened?”
“Think. Try to remember how we arrived here,” Shadowmere ordered as he did the same.
“You … found what had been stolen from your hideout while we were tracking down the cat sith,” Berry recalled, “We traveled to the griffon lands, but … I don’t remember what happened once we got there.”
“No doubt our prey found us before we found it,” Shadowmere said, his voice low, “We were hunting a lor, one I’d locked away.”
With a faint prickling sensation, more memories were coming back to Beryl. Weeks had passed since their adventure with the cat sith by the time Shadowmere had discovered what had been stolen. Whoever kept stealing from the ancient monster hunter seemed to have an eye for creatures unable to be killed, only sealed away. Last time they’d stolen a djinn, this time it’d been a lor[LS2] [JS3] . Lor were elaborate maze builders, and not just in the physical sense. Their lairs were labyrinths, but their true talent was in constructing artificial mazes. Once they found a suitable victim, they would render them comatose and seal their minds within a world of their creation, designed as a nearly inescapable labyrinth.
“So, this is …?” Berry said, gesturing to the world around them.
“Indeed,” Shadowmere replied, before craning his neck to address the heavens, “Auzischell! Your ploy has failed! Show yourself!”
A cold breeze blew through the air and the morning suddenly became darker. A shadow passed over the bloated sun until it was eclipsed. It was incredibly eerie, given how large and close the sun seemed, and became even more so as the lor stepped through the eclipse as if it were a doorway and stood on nothing. The lor’s body was shaped like a pony’s, but that was where the resemblance ceased. Rather than hair, the creature was covered in scales, and its tail was that of a lizard’s. Its ears were mere holes in the scaly expanse beneath horns that started as ridges over the eyes and curved around behind the creature’s head. The lor bared a smile that was all pointed teeth as it stared down and Beryl and Shadowmere.
“Shadowmere, what is it about you that makes you so averse to living in contentment? I did the best I could to create a world you could be happy in, but your miserable outlook on the world stretches so far back that it’s beyond my power to rewrite that much of your history. At least you’ve found somepony else to share in your misery,” Auzischell said, turning his attention to Berry, “I really thought I’d constructed the perfect world for you, but I suppose Shadowmere does stick out, doesn’t he? I really ought to have used separate labyrinths.”
“But you can’t, can you? It’s beyond your powers!” Shadowmere shouted up at the lor, who nodded with a sour expression, “You know I’ll escape your maze, so why not make this easy and let us out right now?”
“You’re no fun,” Auzischell moaned, and a forked tongue escaped his mouth, “I thought to have some enjoyment from this alternate world, but it appears you long for a more conventional maze. So be it.”
The lor backed away into the eclipse and the dark circle shrunk into nonexistence, the sun once again bathing the world in dawn’s light. Ponies remained frozen in place, however, with only Berry and Shadowmere able to move around. In the distance, Berry could see mountains and clouds shift and bend. Soon that distortion grew very close. and Canterlot folded in on itself with baffling motions. All laws of reality seemed to break as the universe itself twisted, constricted, slid, and expanded all at the same time. Then, there was darkness.
At first, Berry wasn’t sure whether it was just so unimaginably dark that everything appeared the same with eyes open or shut, or if they truly were surrounded by nothingness. As she grew accustomed to the darkness around her, however, she felt a firm floor beneath her hooves, though it seemed to be radiating cold. There was still nothing visible, which meant there really was no light at all here. Berry cast a spell that gradually brightened a light at the tip of her horn until she and Shadowmere were bathed in the dim purple glow. They appeared to be in a large room with a high ceiling, all surfaces composed of a glassy black substance. She would’ve thought the room endless were it not for the reflection of her spell on the distant walls.
“Daybreak, to me!” Shadowmere called unexpectedly, his voice reverberating in the empty space, but his sword did not appear, “I had to try. Auzischell controls the laws of this world, so there is no telling what magic may or may not work. It seems he has seen fit to let you retain your unicorn powers.”
“So, you’re powerless?” Berry asked, worried that she’d be fighting without the aid of the immortal.
“Hardly,” Shadowmere snorted, “It will just be more difficult. Now that I fully realize who I am again, he cannot take that from me, and all my internal powers will function, including my regenerative abilities. My magic may be limited, however, or only appear to function.”
“So, what do we do now?” Berry asked, looking around at the empty room.
“We find the way out,” Shadowmere said as he struck out toward a random wall.
“Will there be a way out?” Berry asked uncertainly as she followed after Shadowmere while testing that all her spells still worked.
“I’ve never known a lor that didn’t provide one,” Shadowmere answered, “They like their prey to have a sporting chance; makes it more entertaining for them to see them fail if there’s a possibility of success.”
“And if he changes the maze again?” Berry asked, shining her light along the wall as Shadowmere started to feel along it with his hooves, even if she didn’t know if it was helping or not.
“If we’re quick, he won’t be able to. He must’ve already had a second maze prepared beneath his false reality, otherwise he wouldn’t have been able to transition so quickly,” Shadowmere explained as he continued to tap along the wall, “Though lor can construct mind-bendingly intricate and expansive labyrinths, it takes a great deal of time, energy, and concentration to do so. If he were to switch us right now, the best he would be able to come up with is perhaps a hedge maze, if the hedges were tessellated copies of a single hedge. No, we can trust that the maze will not change for a while.”
Without warning, Shadowmere was suddenly pulled into the wall and vanished. Beryl rushed up to the spot he’d been standing in and tentatively placed her own hooves against the wall. She sensed magic only an instant before she too was drawn into the cool, black stone. She could see nothing but her horn’s light reflecting and refracting through the crystalline structures around her as she passed through them, sucked through as if pulled by an ocean current. Abruptly, she broke through the stony substance and went flying through the air. She flipped over as she tried to slow herself with magic and absorbed the fact that she’d just come hurtling out of a cliff face and was now headed for the edge of a narrow, snow-covered ledge.
She skidded and bounced through the snow, coming to a halt before flying over. As she rose unsteadily to her hooves, Shadowmere appeared and hefted himself over the ledge, having not had the benefit of magic to slow his flight. Carefully, Berry wandered over to the edge and peered down, involuntarily leaning back as she saw the sheer drop to the narrow ribbon of a river far below. A shiver passed through her body as the cold cut into her, the clothes she was wearing more suited for the longest day of the year in Canterlot than the exposed snow-covered cliffs she was now on.
“This is a conventional maze?” Beryl asked Shadowmere as he sat down a moment and took in their surroundings.
“For an experienced lor, this is quite common,” he said, “Stringing together small, self-contained worlds with obstacles is one of their favorite methods for constructing a labyrinth.”
While Shadowmere was recovering from climbing up the cliff face, Berry examined the layout of their surroundings. The ledge they were on was narrow, only wide enough for five ponies to walk shoulder-to-shoulder, but it was more than just an outcropping of rock. It was remarkably level and stretched off with roughly the same width in both directions along the cliff face. Berry’s roll through the snow had revealed a path had been worn down the center, and a path had to lead somewhere , though maybe that was an unfair assumption in an artificially constructed world. Curiously, there was a wooden sign along the path, its post leaning slightly away from the abyss, and Berry approached and wiped the snow from it.
ANDVYRYK
“Do you think there’s actually a town that way?” Berry asked, suddenly conscious that her teeth were chattering.
“Or a trap. Or both. Either way, it’s worth the risk,” Shadowmere said, placing his cape over the shivering Berry, “The cold doesn’t affect me, but you won’t survive much longer unless we get you some suitable gear. I could also use a weapon if there are any to be had.”
The wind picked up as the two ponies followed the path, chilling Berry to the bone even through Shadowmere’s cape. He was right; she needed winter gear soon or she wasn’t going to survive. She wondered what would happen if she died in this artificial world, if her body would actually die or if she’d just remain comatose. The thought distracted her long enough for them to reach the village of Andvyryk.
It was a quaint little village, no more than a smattering of houses with steep, snow-covered roofs, and a large common house in the center of town. Fire and candlelight shone through the windows, so somepony had to be living here. Beryl and Shadowmere approached the common house’s ornately carved door and pushed it open. A large fire roared in the pit at the center of the building, illuminating the faces of the griffons sitting around tables drinking or playing games. Berry wanted to get closer to the fire, but Shadowmere steered them toward the bar at one end of the room where a griffon was wiping down the counter with a well-worn rag. Berry’s eyes lit upon the food and supplies behind the griffon, some of which would fit a pony of her stature.
“Vyatya vyante, stangaya?” the griffon asked and Shadowmere looked like he was trying to remember something.
“Vyo neegan vintya gyoro,” he answered the griffon after recalling the language she was speaking, “Kotor ayn byoten vyr hyar, ayn vyeporen eyf yi avye taem.”
“Kotor vyr da ponye,” the griffon said as she examined Berry, “Ya, ey avye. Yet vyel kozen yi dortye kopeken.”
“I was afraid of this,” Shadowmere said as he turned to Berry, “You wouldn’t happen to be carrying any gold on you, would you?”
Berry checked her coin purse, but it was gone. She had definitely had it in that false Canterlot for buying coffee, but now it was gone. Apparently, the lor had seen fit to deprive her of it when the city had collapsed. She shook her head.
“You may as well warm up by the fire,” Shadowmere sighed, “This is going to require some haggling.”
Berry was happy to do so, for the cold was still with her, and she had no idea what Shadowmere and the griffon were saying anyway. As she began to thaw, she considered the situation they were in. The lor had placed them in a position that wasn’t impossible but would certainly be difficult to bypass—obstacles in the maze. At least she was still able to use her magic, but that relied on her not dying from the cold first, in a land where she didn’t speak the language. Shadowmere seemed overly concerned with getting weapons, which meant he suspected something to block their way that could only be dealt with by killing it. To make sure everything was in working order, Berry tried out her combat spells, forming a blade from pure magic and shooting beams of energy into the fire. She stopped when she realized she was being stared at by griffons and the nearby table of earth ponies.
“No luck with the coat?” Berry asked as Shadowmere sat down next to her empty-hooved.
“Not exactly,” he snorted in annoyance, “No kopeks, no sale, but there’s another way.”
“Does it involve stealing it?” Berry asked uncomfortably.
“And killing the patrons?” Shadowmere asked with a raised eyebrow, “No, but that would probably be easier. Seems everyone is inside out of the lovely weather because there’s a monster in the town well.”
“And she wants us to kill it,” Berry said. It wasn’t a question.
“She’ll let us take anything we want if we do,” Shadowmere said, “Do you feel up to it? You might have to do most of the work, I’m afraid, since I don’t know how much of my magic will work.”
“The sooner we do this, the better, right?” Berry said, though she was only just beginning to feel healthily warm again, “Let’s get to it.”
The griffons watched as they headed back out into the cold, clutching their coats tighter against themselves. It seemed to have gotten even colder since they’d arrived in Andvyryk, snow now coming down steadily and the wind blowing as the first signs of a blizzard. Perhaps it was the lor’s intent to trap them in the town until their bodies in the real world wasted away. They had to find the way out soon.
Shadowmere approached the town’s well and peered inside. With his unnatural eyes, he could make out the water far below, which was miraculously unfrozen. Picking up a stone that had fallen out of the well’s wall, he whispered some words to it and was pleasantly surprised when it began to glow red-hot. He tossed it down the well and stepped back. A few moments later a muffled thud and a thin trail of steam emerged from the well.
Immediately thereafter, a head shot up from the well, a long sinuous neck trailing behind it. The beast looked like a river serpent, a dragon’s head with long, sinewy moustaches trailing from its upper lip, but it was composed entirely of ice. The crystalline structure shimmered in the light as it moved, making it difficult to know exactly where the ice serpent’s body ended and the blowing snow began.
Berry wished she had her incendiary-tipped crossbow bolts with her. And her crossbow. Without her primary weapon, she’d need to make do with her magic alone. The Ministry agent shot a blast of fire at the ice serpent’s snout, and the impact blew off one of its moustaches. Instantly, the beast retaliated and dove toward her, its body continuing to slide up the well. Berry dodged the snapping icicles, though she got herself covered in snow in the process.
An explosion rocked the beast as Shadowmere succeeded in casting a spell that blew a chunk out of its body near the well. The ice serpent whirled on the stallion, trailing ice crystals and a bluish mist that left a crust on the snow from its wound. As it pursued Shadowmere, Berry regained her hooves and poured her energy into conjuring up a magic sword long enough to span the ice serpent at its widest point. Angling the blade, she let the beast do most of the work. Spines snapped off its back as the sword cut through them, and then the blade was in the serpent’s icy flesh. The magic weapon cut deeper, until it was nearly halfway through.
The ice serpent had caught on to Berry’s ploy and would not be severed so easily. It whipped its head around at her, careful not to move the lower portion of its body and pull her sword farther. As it opened its mouth to snap her up, she let off a cascade of small magic fireworks. The embers embedded themselves in the ice serpent’s face and began to melt the ice from the inside. It tried to shake the burning coals free, but only succeeded with some.
Beryl spotted Shadowmere running up at the beast from behind, and she realized his plan as he looked purposefully at her sword before leaping. She drew the sword from the serpent’s flesh, the magic sizzling as blue mist drifted off of it. Shadowmere struck the serpent in the back of the head, driving it down with the impact. Berry’s blade was in just the right place that as its head fell to the ground, her magic sword severed it. The draconic head rolled to the side and began to disintegrate into snowflakes, as did the rest of the body.
Berry was breathing heavily, and nearly choked on the ice crystals she accidentally inhaled. All this for a coat that didn’t exist to protect her from weather that didn’t exist in a world that didn’t exist. It wasn’t the oddest thing she’d done since discovering Shadowmere.
***
“Over here!” Beryl called, gesturing for Shadowmere to follow her.
The stallion pressed through the crowd of ponies, and they moved aside to let him through, their crystalline coats sparkling as they moved. When they’d first arrived in this part of the labyrinth, Berry had been taken by surprise, both by the inhabitants and from Shadowmere's explanation that ponies like this had really existed. The city they were in wasn’t quite as real, though it was based on the crystal ponies’ home. Streets of crystal crisscrossed a city of crystal spires, skyscrapers, and tenements.
After defeating the ice serpent in Andvyryk, the griffon had kept her word and given Berry all the winter gear she’d needed to survive the winter conditions. She and Shadowmere had left the village immediately and headed farther up the cliffs until they’d found a door to another part of the labyrinth. The cliff face had been marked with the lor’s symbol: three crossed keys of gold, silver, and crystal. That same symbol was on a sign hanging next to the shop Berry was leading Shadowmere to.
The Three Keys Bookstore seemed unassuming enough until they opened the door and were hit with a blast of cold air. Berry put back on the winter gear she’d removed after leaving the cliffs of Andvyryk before stepping through. Through the bookstore’s window, one could see its interior and the shopkeeper snoring in a reading chair, but the door did not lead to that room. It was merely a portal to another constructed reality that formed the lor’s labyrinth.
This portion of the maze was just as snowy as Andvyryk, but no storm was raging here, and there was no precarious precipice to fall off. Pine forests stretched up the slopes of mountains in one direction, and the land descended to a chilled sea in the other. They were near a coast, perhaps of an island, given the proximity of sea and mountains.
Shadowmere looked uneasy as he glanced around, looking for the best way to the next area of the labyrinth. Berry noticed the small village at the base of the rocky hills they were standing upon just a moment before she heard screams coming from it. Many buildings were on fire and others were being set alight by marauders. The screams were those of dying ponies or those being forced onto the longboats haphazardly docked against the shore near the village. Berry started down the slope toward the village at a brisk pace, drawing the longbow she’d gotten from the griffon in Andvyryk.
“No, stop!” Shadowmere yelled, and she halted in surprise, snow and gravel flying beneath her hooves.
“What? Why?” she asked.
“It’s a trap; there’s nothing we can do,” Shadowmere proclaimed, appearing almost rooted in his spot at the top of the incline.
“How do you know?”
“I know ,” Shadowmere replied, still unmoving, “The next door is not in that direction, it is in the temple at the top of that mountain.”
Berry looked back at the village. The marauders were launching their boats and leaving, but the fire was spreading. The screams from the village had ended with the marauders’ departure, but one voice cried out from the burning buildings as its owners hiding place was found by the flames.
“There must be something we can do,” Berry said, watching the fire consume the village.
“This is not real,” Shadowmere insisted, though something in his tone suggested that she wasn’t the only pony he was trying to convince, “We have no time for this; we must get out of this labyrinth.”
He was right, of course. In Andvyryk, helping the inhabitants had been the path forward, but here it was an obstacle in the way of escape. Even knowing that nopony in this world was real apart from her and Shadowmere, it made Berry uncomfortable to abandon the village. Their job was to stop the lor, not whatever it conjured up unless it got in their way. They needed to keep moving and escape before the lor changed their maze.
“Okay,” Berry said reluctantly as she lowered her bow and headed back up the slope.
***
Trees were cut down in a flurry as Berry and Shadowmere galloped through the forest. They’d made it across the mountainous island and into its temple, which was inhabited by shambling undead. After fighting through that unpleasantness, they’d found the door to the next stage of the labyrinth, which turned out to be this forest. A traveling merchant who had a banner with the three keys on it hanging from his saddlebags helpfully directed them toward the next door, but they hadn’t gone far when a trap was sprung, and a three-headed dragon began pursuing them.
“Do you think we’ll find anything if we keep going, or is it better to stand and fight, search for the door after?” Berry asked, ducking down as the dragon’s lighting-breathing head expelled a crackling storm over her.
“That merchant didn’t lie to us, he just neglected to mention the dragon,” Shadowmere replied, sheathing the greatsword he’d taken from one of the zombies to talk, “We’re in no shape to fight this thing at the moment, so we’d better find a way out of here.”
Berry slung the longbow across her back and put on some extra speed. She was barely keeping pace with Shadowmere, but he wasn’t breaking a sweat and didn’t sound winded in the slightest. The Ministry agent hastily teleported herself as another of the dragon’s heads laid down a wall of ice in front of her.
The merchant had said to look for a watchtower, and Berry spotted it ahead, its crumbling top poking out over the treetops. Entire trees flew over her head, thrown by the dragon, and a few crashed into the watchtower. When she and Shadowmere arrived, the stones had ceased tumbling down from the broken tower, but the door was blocked by rubble. Shadowmere began to heave the stones away with his hooves, and Berry assisted with her levitation magic. The dragon’s fire breath rained down around them, and they squeezed past the remaining rubble to force open the door.
It was cooler on the other side, though not cold, for which Berry was grateful since she’d changed in and out of the winter gear from Andvyryk too many times already. They were in a dark tunnel without much room to maneuver. Berry cast her light spell and drew her bow as they trotted forward. It all seemed oddly familiar, and she nearly dropped her bow when she realized where she was. She had been here before.
The tunnel soon came to an end and opened onto a cave, in the middle of which crouched a wyvern. Its scales were a sandy brown, letting it blend into its surroundings were attention not drawn to the fresh blood on its claws. The wyvern turned its head to regard them as they entered the chamber, eyes shining with wicked intelligence. Even were this not a false reality, Beryl knew how such a large being had made it into the cave through the narrow tunnel; this was no ordinary wyvern, but a were-wyvern, able to hide among ponies in their form.
“It’s not real,” she told herself as she remained transfixed by the wyvern while it rose up and spread its wings, “It’s not real. He’s dead.”
“I’m far from dead,” the wyvern rumbled, breaking Beryl out of her paralysis as she jumped in shock, “You never killed me.”
Unconsciously, Beryl began to draw back her bow.
“We won’t be able to defeat it now,” Shadowmere said as he moved closer to her, “The door is just past it, see. We need to run for it as soon as we can.”
Her longbow twanged as the arrow was released and sailed into the wyvern’s eye. It roared in pain and belched fire at them, separating Berry from Shadowmere. Berry fired more arrows at the beast, but the first one had been a lucky shot and the rest bounced off its scaly hide. Somehow, the stones of the cave were catching fire, but Berry still stood in place, frozen there. The wyvern brought a claw down at her, but Shadowmere shoved her out of the way and slashed at the wyvern’s leg with his greatsword.
“Run!” he urged her as his weapon became stuck in the wyvern’s flesh.
Berry looked around for her weapon, but the longbow had fallen into the flames and the bowstring had snapped. She still had her magic, but Shadowmere was right. Her mind was beginning to take control again and allow her to cope with what she was experiencing. This wasn’t the same were-wyvern; of course not. She picked herself up and ran toward the far side of the cave, Shadowmere and the wyvern close behind.
There was the lor’s symbol etched on the wall, but no sign of a door. Skidding to a halt, Berry pressed her body against the wall and a section of it gave way, turning into a ramp. She slid in darkness for a bit before falling through rotted old boards and landing in a pile of rags. Hurriedly, she moved out of the way before Shadowmere could land on top of her.
When the stallion got up from the floor, eyes glowing, he looked around in recognition before rushing around in the dark. Light came to the room after he’d determined that they were safe for the moment and he lit a lamp. Berry looked around as he further illuminated the room by opening heavy shutters that stretched floor to ceiling. The room they were in was a workshop of sorts, or had been once. Weapons and traps in various states of construction were scattered around the room, and Berry recognized a few as being used against monsters. The workshop was circular and took up the entire floor near the top of a rickety tower. Through the shutters, one could see similar towers and ruined buildings surrounding it, an entire city with no lights. Shadowmere sat down in a padded wheelchair in the center of the room to think once he’d finished opening the shutters.
“What was that about?” Berry asked, gesturing upward, even though the were-wyvern’s cavern was there no more, “That was … it was …”
“Something from your memories,” Shadowmere finished for her, “Yes, I thought so given your reaction, the same as in Dietrep’s dreamscape when we encountered a similar beast. A lor can only build mazes from what they know, things they’ve experienced themselves or torn from the memories of their victims. It was no mistake that it’s used our pasts against us, for there’s no more effective an obstacle than to force you to relive something that frightened you in the past.”
“You recognize this place,” Berry said, before he could ask her what memories she had of the were-wyvern, “What unpleasant memories might attack us here?”
“Here? Nothing out of the ordinary. In fact, most of my memories here are pleasant, except …” Shadowmere said, and frowned thoughtfully before continuing, “The island we were on; that was from my memories. It was when I … became what I am. That’s why I knew there was nothing we could do.”
Berry sensed there was much more to the story than what Shadowmere was offering. However, she wasn’t willing to tell him about her past, so she wouldn’t press him. Maybe one day they would tell each other the stories they weren’t willing to now, but this was not the time. They had to find a way out of the lor’s labyrinth.
“The maze’s worlds are getting smaller,” Berry commented, “Does that mean we’re nearing the exit?”
“Maybe,” Shadowmere replied as he rose from the wheelchair, “We shouldn’t let the workshop’s gear go to waste, though, just in case there’s more waiting for us ahead, and I fully expect there will be.”
The two of them got to work stripping the workshop of useful things. It was clearly a monster hunters’ workshop, which didn’t surprise Beryl in the slightest, knowing that this place or something similar to it had once existed and Shadowmere had been a part of it. She managed to find a compact crossbow easily and plenty of bolts for it, which made her feel almost normal. Shadowmere procured for himself both a uniform like the one he normally wore and plenty of weapons and traps. The undead greatsword left behind with the wyvern, he now had a scythe at the end of a long chain on his back and a rapier at his side.
Outfitted like they would usually be to take down a monster, they headed to the rickety elevator set into one of the workshop’s walls. Shadowmere pressed a button with the faded symbol of three keys, and the elevator began to descend. Darkness soon engulfed the pair, nothing but the creaking of the elevator to keep them company. At last, it ground to a halt and the railing slid away. Berry cast an illumination spell, and they trotted down a rocky tunnel.
At the tunnel’s end, the stone swung open to let them through, and they found themselves hit full in the face by blowing snow. Berry pulled her winter gear tight around her, and they set out into the blizzard. They were on a cliff again, though the snow was piled deeper here than it had been outside of Andvyryk. The ledge to the right had crumbled away, so they headed left, keeping to the narrow ledge until they came to a snow-covered sign. Berry brushed away the snow out of curiosity of what awaited them this time.
ANDVYRYK
They’d gone in a circle and returned to where they’d started. They were no closer to leaving the labyrinth than when they’d first found themselves here. Just to be sure, they forged ahead to the mountain village. The broken well was still there, as were the griffon inhabitants who seemed not at all surprised to see them again, though they eyed their new weapons suspiciously. Hastily, Berry and Shadowmere said their goodbyes and continued on.
Higher into the mountains they went until they found the lor’s symbol in the same place and passed through into the crystal city. It was much quicker this time to navigate the city and find the Three Keys Bookstore, which this time led to the forest with the three-headed dragon. More concerned about finding a way out than fighting the creature (even though they now had the means), they hurried on to the watchtower and stepped through into the mountainous island. From there, the maze led to the workshop, then the crystal city, then Andvyryk, then the forest, then the workshop, then the island, then the crystal city, then the workshop again.
“This is no good. We aren’t making any progress,” Shadowmere announced, pacing the workshop.
“Is there no exit?” Berry asked, “If we’re going in circles, maybe the lor intends to keep us here forever.”
“No, like I said, lor always give their victims a way out, even if they don’t know it,” Shadowmere said, “I’ve seen them surprised by how their victims escape before, but never that they had the chance to. Something in them compels them to make the maze solvable, even if its done unconsciously.”
“If the lor doesn’t even know how they built a way out, how are we supposed to find it?” Berry asked.
“Maybe there’s a reason we keep ending up in this workshop,” Shadowmere said, looking around, “This lor—when I trapped it before, it was here . Perhaps we can trap it again.”
“Trap it within the labyrinth?” Berry asked, “Would that even work?”
“I don’t know,” Shadowmere replied, “But what other choice do we have?”
***
If the labyrinth hadn’t been set up with the intention of them trapping the lor, then there were certainly a large number of coincidences that made it seem so. Most of the equipment necessary for containing the lor was available in the workshop and the rest of the supplies were available elsewhere in the maze. In the crystal city, they were able to buy essence of crystal with some coins they’d found in the workshop. They still needed essence of fire, essence of ice, and essence of lightning, which would normally be difficult to find all in one place, but they knew a source.
Berry’s shield held as she pushed away the burning branches and advanced toward the three-headed dragon. As the ice-breathing head opened and mist drifted from its maw, she fired her crossbow. The explosive bolt struck the roof of the creature’s mouth and the explosion tore off its jaw. The ice-breathing head swayed uncertainly before going limp, the lightning-breathing head briefly trying to hold up the neck next to it.
The dragon spread its wings and pushed off the ground, trying to get out of range of Berry’s crossbow bolts. While it had been preoccupied with her, Shadowmere had circled around behind the beast and now struck. His scythe flew through the air, chain trailing behind it, and impaled the dragon just above its left hindleg. With supernatural strength, Shadowmere yanked on the chain, and the dragon was pulled from the sky. It crashed into the ground, broken tree trunks scraping off scales with the impact.
Berry was upon it before it could get back up, her magic sword burning through the scales on the back of the fire-breathing head’s neck. The conjured blade sank through flesh and bone and decapitated the dragon’s head, sending it tumbling across the charred forest floor. A cry from Shadowmere alerted her, and she turned around to see the lightning-breathing head coming for her.
She tried to teleport away but wasn’t quick enough. The dragon’s teeth closed around her and picked her up off the ground. Before it could fly from her magical grasp, which was weakening with both pain and erratic motion, Berry transferred the crossbow to her mouth, wielding it like a non-unicorn would. She still had to use her magic to reload it, which was difficult since some of the dragon’s teeth had pierced her saddlebags and bolts were tumbling into its maw. She fired off an incendiary bolt that struck the dragon’s eye and was rewarded with a geyser of flame. She continued to fire, even as lightning began to crackle around here, until at last the dragon’s head collapsed to the ground and she rolled out of it. Her body punctured in several places, she saw Shadowmere approaching her before she blacked out.
***
It wasn’t really her body. She knew that intellectually, but it was hard to square that with the pain one felt after being cut up by a dragon’s teeth. Shadowmere had healed and bandaged her up as best he could, but she still wasn’t long for this world. Hopefully, this world wouldn’t last much longer either.
Lor were inherently curious creatures. Their labyrinths were as much to drain energy from their victims as to study the actions of creatures other than themselves. They were also incredibly interested in memories. Their labyrinths were often built from them, after all. Shadowmere was counting on these two things for their plan to succeed. In the workshop, they would reenact the scene that had led to the lor being trapped in the first place. Berry would be playing the part of one of Shadowmere’s fellow monster hunters, named Eileen, and she held a hastily prepared script in front of her, reading it in the lamplight.
“That lor is a scourge to the city. Commoners believe that a demon or an incubus haunts the night, and the Scholars are no better,” Berry read confrontationally, “They know what it is, and they believe that these alternate worlds it creates are true pocket realities siphoned off from our own, which will inevitably lead to our own world becoming unstable!”
“Foolishness,” Shadowmere replied, “Since when have the Scholars ever said anything plausible?”
“Be that as it may,” Berry said, punctuating every word as it said to do in the script, “They want it gone just as bad as the commoners. They’re the ones who spread the rumors, and they’re the ones who riled up the commoners to light those fires the last three nights. They think they can burn it out, but all they’ll accomplish is burning down their own city. This has to stop! That lor must die!”
“It can’t be killed,” Shadowmere said.
“Everything can be killed,” Berry scoffed, “And if not, there’s always the option to contain it until we find a way to kill it.”
“It shouldn’t be killed,” Shadowmere said firmly, “Auzischell wants to learn, that’s all. He has hurt nopony.”
“And how do you know that?” Beryl demanded, “Because he told you? Eighteen ponies have gone missing in the last month, and they were all found dead yesterday, having wasted away in comas. Explain that! ”
“Am I interrupting something?” Auzischell asked, hovering near the ceiling.
It worked! They had drawn him in! He was still liable to vanish at any moment, so they had to continue the scene until the lor had been trapped in the past. The lor looked confused, though whether that was how he’d looked in the past and was just reliving the memory or if it was because of the odd situation, Berry didn’t know. She did know what she had to do next, and she didn’t relish the thought of it.
“There it is!” she yelled and fired her crossbow at the lor.
The bolt glanced off its scales, and it fixed her with a penetrating gaze.
“No!” Shadowmere yelled as her eyelids grew heavy and slammed shut.
In the past, Eileen had been dropped into a labyrinth by the lor, and Berry was experiencing the same thing. Because they were already within the labyrinth, though, there was nowhere else to go. Apparently the lor was incapable of fully using its powers within a constructed world, so Berry found herself surrounded by a vast expanse of nothingness. Now she had to wait for Shadowmere to trap it, so she could wake up.
Feeling and weight returned to her limbs, and she opened her eyes. The lor was nowhere to be seen and Shadowmere was standing over the container it was trapped in. It wasn’t truly trapped, however, just in this false reality. Without the lor to command it, the world began to break apart. Things began to shift much as they had in Canterlot, but this time the world didn’t withstand the shift. Reality itself began to shatter until nothing was left.
Slowly, Berry opened her eyes again. She was looking up at the roof of a cave, the mineral deposits identical to the ones in the place they’d been hunting for the lor. They were back in reality. She stretched the stiffness from her limbs as she got up and realized she was incredibly hungry and thirsty. There was no telling how long they’d been here.
Shadowmere was getting up next to her, and nearby stood the lor, slowly blinking its eyes as it too returned from the labyrinth it had constructed for them. All their equipment, including the trap to contain it, which resembled a diving helmet, was stacked against the wall behind the lor. Seeing the direction of Berry’s gaze, the lor made a break for a nearby tunnel entrance, hoping to disappear into the real maze it’d constructed. It had no reality-bending powers here, though, and she was easily able to grab it in her magic, keeping it from getting away.
Realizing that it wouldn’t be able to escape, the lor turned its gaze toward Berry. She threw up a foreleg to cover her eyes, even if that made it more difficult to keep the lor in place with her magic. She wasn’t going to be dropped into another false reality; she’d had quite enough of that for today. Shadowmere dashed to their supplies and retrieved the trap.
“Auzischell!” he called authoritatively, and the lor looked at him.
The top of the trap flipped open and four tendrils of energy reached out to grab the lor, restraining each of its limbs. It struggled, but it was no use, and it was drawn into the trap, converted into raw energy as it entered the device. Berry dropped her foreleg as the trap slammed shut and Shadowmere heaved it to the side.
“It’s over,” Shadowmere announced.
Both now and in the workshop, he seemed to regret having to contain the lor. He’d known its name, and from the scene they’d recreated, Berry suspected that was because they’d once been acquaintances, if not friends. But how? She wanted to ask, but maybe now wasn’t the time. She was beginning to worry about Shadowmere’s past acquaintances, though. Dietrep seemed fine, but first Rholharrak and now Auzischell had turned out to be problems. Would more of Shadowmere’s old friends resurface and cause trouble? If they did, she had more than enough reason to confront the ancient stallion about it.
She said nothing now, though, as the two of them retrieved their gear and navigated through the maze that Auzischell had bored in the mountainside. Compared to their jaunt through miniature worlds, it was a piece of cake to navigate this, and they were soon outside. From a ledge on the mountainside, they were able to look out over the griffon lands, the forests dark under the night sky. The moon hung huge in the sky, looking odd, though Berry couldn’t quite say why.
“How long were we out?” she asked, “What day is it?”
“It’s the summer solstice,” Shadowmere said with some concern after checking a device from his saddlebags, “Mid-morning.”
“Mid-morning? That can’t be right,” Berry said, “It’s still clearly night.”
“Yes, but it’s not supposed to be,” Shadowmere said, staring at the moon.
For one thousand years she had waited, biding her time imprisoned in the sun's softer celestial sister. She had loved the moon once, as her subjects never had, and while she still could not hate it as she despised the flaming sphere directed by her arrogant, treacherous sister, a millennium of imprisonment could not help but leave her with some resentment. Of course, the moon held no fault for her banishment here; that lay with Celestia, the pony she'd trusted the most. She'd reveled in the fawning praise and adoration of the ponies of Equestria, drawing them to her while snubbing her sister, encouraging them to embrace the day and shun the night… and shun the princess who ruled over it. Was it any wonder that Luna had sought out power in dark places when there was nowhere else she could go to escape the blinding, all-consuming light of a sister who claimed to love her, but had proved she loved only herself?
Nightmare Moon could not hate the moon, but she could hate the pony who had caused her to resent it so. Their confrontation would come soon, and she anticipated it as she sensed her loyal stars moving closer to aid in her escape, as she had bound them to long ago. The seals of her prison were broken one by one, and the long-confined alicorn steeled herself to once more face her sister, that accursed usurper. She had lost in their last duel, though only because Celestia had betrayed her by using the Elements of Harmony, weapons they'd once wielded together. In the past thousand years, surely the bond they had formed together with the Elements would be broken and Celestia would no longer be able to call upon them, but she would not put some other treachery beyond her untrustworthy sibling. The moment the seals were broken, the sun princess would strike.
As soon as she was free, Nightmare Moon cast up wards and prepared devilish traps to retaliate, but found to her shock that she was not under attack. Suspiciously, she reached out, searching for Celestia and found… nothing. Her sister was not coming to face her. How could this be? Using the dark powers at her disposal, she found that Celestia was gone, missing from the world. Had she perished in the intervening millennium? Surely not—even locked away, she would have sensed something like that—but then, where was she? What had become of her rival?
As Nightmare Moon pondered this, she felt a tickling in the back of her mind—a means of communication from long ago, used by a pony she'd once known. Though he was no alicorn, he was immortal, and had awaited this day as eagerly as she.
Welcome back, your Majesty. The usurper has been captured for you to deal with at your leisure. Praise be to Nighttime Eternal!
Nighttime Eternal. Nightmare Moon had promised to bring an end to the scorching tyranny of day and at last cloak the world in beautiful night. She had thought to accomplish such a feat, she would first need to defeat Celestia; but her followers had not been idle while she'd been imprisoned. Nightmare Moon cackled manically with none to hear her upon the abandoned, barren surface of her glorious moon. The sun would never rise on this, the longest day of the year, a day that would now never be. Down below, upon Equus, the ponies prepared to worship her sister; she could clearly feel the devotion directed toward the now-absent sun princess. This was particularly focused in one place, a seemingly insignificant town. Well, if that was where they wished to see Celestia, she would show them a true princess. It was time to have some fun. It was time they knew that everything had changed.
Darkest Shadows
“What do you mean by that?” Beryl asked with concern.
Shadowmere had just dropped on her the revelation that, though their timepieces read that it was mid-morning, the sky clearly showed that it was night, and it was the sky that was in the wrong.
“If night remains even after the sun should have arisen, on today of all days, then it can only mean that Nightmare Moon has returned,” Shadowmere said as he continued to stare at the star-speckled heavens.
“Nightmare Moon?” Berry questioned. “I thought she was banished a thousand years ago.”
“On the longest day of the thousandth year, the stars will aid in her escape, and she will bring about Nighttime Eternal,” Shadowmere quoted before turning his gaze on the Ministry agent. “They don’t teach you about the prophecy in the Ministry anymore?”
“I’ve never heard of it,” Berry replied. It was one more thing on the list of things the Ministry had failed to prepare her for, but this one was surprising. “The Ministry was founded because of Nightmare Moon, but as far as we’re concerned, that was all in the past.”
“It is shocking what the Ministry has become and how much it has forgotten, but I cannot be too surprised that this was not a pressing concern. The only one who could deal with Nightmare Moon last time was Celestia. Which raises the question of why she hasn’t dealt with her again.”
“You think something has happened to Celestia?”
“I’m almost certain of it,” replied Shadowmere. “Our ‘friend’ here,” he said, tapping the trap containing Auzischell, “Was trying to tell us something. We began at the summer sun celebration, after all. The lor, like the other creatures and persons we’ve encountered, was being used by a third party, intended to draw us away while they completed whatever it was they were going to do with Celestia. We need to return to Canterlot.”
“The summer sun celebration is in Ponyville this year,” Berry offered. “That was one of the things that keyed me in to the fact that something was amiss.”
“There are things we will need from my chambers beneath Rosethorn Hall,” Shadowmere said as he tucked the sphere containing Auzischell away in his saddlebags. “Are you prepared?”
After Berry gave a nod, Shadowmere parted the air, opening a doorway to another realm. Cold wind with the slight scent of peppermint emerged from the passage and persisted as the two ponies stepped through. Berry had asked Shadowmere once if the passages had names, and his answer had been unenlightening. Of course they had names, or at least ponies had likely given them names; but considering how obscure knowledge of them was, there was no consensus among the small circle of those who used them. Shadowmere had his names for the passages he knew, but the names meant nothing to Beryl, so she had (without realizing it) started attributing her own names to each passage. The one they were entering now she thought of as the ‘stairs passage’ because it seemed to be completely composed of staircases going every which way without regard for gravity or basic architectural principles.
Like most passages, this one was inhabited by all manner of horrific creatures, and it didn't take long for them to home in on the interlopers. They were only traversing their fourth flight of stairs when a massive centipede covered in silvery-blue scales wrapped itself around the stairs from below. Pincers with too many segments reached out to Shadowmere.
“Daybreak, to me!” he called, summoning his sword and slicing away the pincers before driving the blade through the centipede's head.
Clambering over the body as it slowly crystallized, they came face-to-face with a creature possessing the body of a pony and wings of a moth, but with a fox's head, the whole body covered in a fox's fur pattern. Beryl fired her crossbow into its face, the quarrel sprouting spikes as it went through. Its corpse fell upward as they passed and ducked through an archway. They next crossed to a stairway running horizontally, though this took them into an open space filled with more of the fox-moths. Shadowmere threw powder from a pouch on his bandolier and waited for it to expand out into the horde before lighting a flare and throwing it, igniting the cloud.
Down more stairs they went, coming to an incredibly long flight surrounded by concentric rings of staircases. Partway through, the stairs shifted from going down to going up, but they hardly noticed, given how busy they were fighting off the green-furred lemurs that flung themselves off the surrounding stairs. When the stairs finally came to an end, they ducked and wove around, running and jumping from one staircase to the next. Berry wasn’t sure how Shadowmere managed to navigate here—whether he had some way to sense the direction he wanted to go or had simply used the passage long enough that he remembered all of it—but she trusted him to inerrantly lead the way.
Beryl swung her magical sword through a ghostly miniature dragon, causing it to fade away completely, before coming to a halt. Shadowmere examined the stairs ahead of them, which quickly came to a drop, ending in crumbling stone. A low growl came from the distance ahead, causing the immortal to look up.
“Jump,” Shadowmere commanded before taking a step and leaping toward the stairs over their heads, which also terminated in a broken end.
Shadowmere’s hooves just caught the edge, and he dragged himself up (down). Beryl required a few more steps and made a running leap. Though her hooves caught the edge as well, stone crumbled off and she continued to fall (rise). Before she could go sailing off through the passage, Shadowmere grabbed her coat in his teeth and dragged her up. Together they stepped up a small hoofful of stairs, and Shadowmere opened the way out of the passage. Stealing a look back, Berry spotted the source of the growling: a massive whale-shaped blob of black goo that mostly oozed around the stairs as it passed, but caused some to break away. Quickly, she followed Shadowmere out and the passage closed behind them.
They had emerged in a dark space, and after the odd everywhere-and-nowhere illumination of the passage, it took a few moments for Berry’s eyes to adjust and register the minimal amount of light that existed. Shadowmere seemed to have no such hindrance and trotted up to the steps leading to a door tilted back at an angle. Whispering an incantation, the sound of chains releasing came from the other side, and Shadowmere pushed the cellar doors up and out. It was a back alley of Canterlot they stepped out into. Fortunately, there were no ponies around to witness them, but voices could be heard from the streets connected to the alley. When Berry and Shadowmere left the alley, no attention was paid to them. Everyone was too preoccupied standing around in the streets staring up at the night sky to remark on two strangely dressed ponies.
As quickly as they could, they made their way to Rosethorn Hall, still avoiding any crowds. Officers of the CPD were out trying to reassure the citizens, but looked mighty nervous themselves. Berry didn't spot any agents of the Ministry, but they were likely involved in other work, trying to address Nightmare Moon’s return directly. It was for the best that she didn’t run into any of them right now anyway, though they were probably calling all agents in. At Rosethorn Hall, the orphans were out on the lawn. Though they had anticipated watching the sunrise, they were now frightened by the darkness the longer it went on and needed comforting from their caregivers. The duo of monster hunters moved around silently to the entrance of Shadowmere’s hideout; the caregivers had things in hoof, and the best thing they could do to assuage the foals’ fears would be to find Celestia so she could restore the cycle of night and day.
Through both doors they went, Beryl mindful as she had been ever since her first time here to avoid disturbing the protective line of grit within the inner door. As the door swung shut behind her, lights suddenly winked into existence in the air all around, freezing her and Shadowmere in place. The lights erupted into violet flames that quickly expanded to fill the room. Thinking fast, Berry cast a shield over herself and Shadowmere, though they were forced closer together as the dome contracted, pressed by the magical flames. At points, the mystical fire spiked through the shield, and Shadowmere mumbled incantations, pressing his hoof against them wherever they threatened to break through. After what was only several seconds but felt far longer, the fire burned out and faded away, leaving the main sitting room completely charred apart from the small circle that Berry’s shield had protected. Not even a hint of the furniture was left, apart from slightly higher heaps of ash on the floor casting small shadows as Berry swept the light from her horn around, providing illumination now that the lamps on the walls had been likewise disintegrated.
“What happened?” Beryl asked once it seemed the fire had passed and wasn’t spreading or reigniting.
“A trap,” Shadowmere grumbled, his sunglasses having fallen away and his hellish eyes glowing fiercely in the darkened room. “Again, someone has managed to violate the sanctity of my home. This time they decided to do more than rob me of a creature they intend to release. It appears they no longer care if their interference is discovered.”
“The same one who led us away from Canterlot, then,” Beryl surmised, and Shadowmere nodded.
“After the last times, I set additional wards and marked the entrances, but they still managed to enter somehow. My mark here was still intact, so they didn’t enter through Rosethorn Hall, but we’ll need to check the other ways in and out to find how they breached my sanctum. Of course, there may be other traps lying in wait. We’ll have to clear out my lair.”
“Do we have time for that?” Beryl inquired, mindful of the chaos that was surely consuming Equestria in Celestia’s absence.
“We cannot risk not doing so,” Shadowmere said wearily. “Our enemies know this; not only do they threaten us with these traps, they delay us. Yet, there is no telling what they have lying in wait for us, so attempting to locate Celestia while leaving any trap intact could prove deadly.”
Despite the fact that Shadowmere was incapable of dying, at least permanently, Beryl saw his point. Death would still incapacitate and delay him, and Berry had no such immunity against fatal harm. This trap was limited to this room, but who could say if the others were the same? The unfortunate truth was that Shadowmere was right, and that if they were continue, they would need to make his home safe.
***
It was with mixed urgency and caution that they moved through the interconnected chambers and passages of Shadowmere’s hideout. Now that they knew there were traps in place, it was less often that they were taken unaware, the air filling with needles or everything crystalizing. Shadowmere or Beryl were able to defuse most of them before they went off. Through their scouring, Berry was also able to see more of the lair than she had before. Even with all the time she’d spent here, there was much she hadn’t seen until now, including Shadowmere’s incredibly spartan bedchamber. There were some places, however, that she still didn’t see, Shadowmere insisting on venturing in alone. Secrets.
“Tikrit,” the immortal whispered as they entered one of the final rooms, triggering the trap within.
Acid materialized above and cascaded down as a solid wave. Shimmering came from the cabinets that lined the walls and the shelves in between as wards previously placed by Shadowmere prevented the acid from affecting anything within the room. A shield projected by Berry protected the two living beings in the room, the acid flowing around them to sizzle on the floor with the rest. The floor of the room was left unevenly pitted and scorched as the acid did its work, but nothing else was damaged.
Once the danger had passed, Berry was able to take in the room. It was much longer than it was wide, the shelves and cabinets stretching off into the far distance and making it difficult to spy the opposite wall from the door. Each shelf and cabinet was filled with peculiar items, some clearly weapons and others appearing shockingly mundane. Many were caged or chained in place, indicating a threat they posed. Clearly this was where Shadowmere kept his relics, magical items gathered over millennia of life. Several of the windowed cabinet doors hung ajar, and Shadowmere looked at them and empty spots on the shelves with concern as he strode past. This concern was targeted on missing items, though he had exuded general concern since they had checked the last of the entrances into his hideout and found his seals there intact still. Just how had his sanctum been violated?
Contrary to appearance, the room did not go on forever, and there were doors both at the far end as well as set into the side walls, breaking up the lines of cabinets. Shadowmere chose one of these side doors and stepped through, Beryl following him into a rough-hewn chamber in the stone of Canterlot Mountain. At the center of the chamber stood a doorway, oddly tall and narrow and tipped slightly backwards. The two doors within the frame appeared to be metal, though they were paneled as though made of wood and painted a dark blue. Affixed over the doors’ surface were numerous wax seals holding ancient strips of parchment covered in words written in an indecipherable tongue. Many of the seals, even those that did not span both doors, appeared to have been broken down their centers.
Shadowmere strode up to the doors and, placing a hoof on each, thrust them open. Though they should have been swiftly halted by the floor of the chamber behind them, given the doorway’s angle, they instead swung open freely, looking out onto another world, one where dark ash fell like snow and covered the land in drifts. Shadowmere stepped through, looking at the opposite sides of the doors, before returning and pulling the doors shut before whatever it was emitting a keening howl on the other side could make itself seen.
“Is this how they got in?” Berry asked as Shadowmere’s face grew more perturbed, though the answer seemed apparent to her.
“It must be, though I can scarce believe it,” Shadowmere said as he stole a glance back at the doors. “Besides me, there is only one other who could have broken those seals. Malthus was once a … friend of mine. Though we have gone our separate ways, I never expected him to aid Nightmare Moon against Celestia.”
“Malthus?” Berry asked as she scoured her memory. “The same Malthus as Celestia’s chief advisor?”
“For the last two centuries, though I’ve known him far longer,” Shadowmere replied before returning to the main chamber.
Berry remained a bit with the mysterious doorway before following. By the time she emerged, Shadowmere had done a check of the other side chambers and was inspecting the shelves and cabinets from which relics had been stolen. For a while, he stood in front of a cabinet that held several small items, such as necklaces, earrings, and caps for unicorn horns. His fiery eyes were fixed on a tripod of thin metal rods holding up a small ring; judging from his expression, the tripod was not the relic supposed to be stored here, but meant to hold something missing.
“The Eye of Larghast is missing, as well as anything that would definitively allow us to locate Celestia,” Shadowmere announced as he finally turned away from the cabinet.
Despite that, Shadowmere grabbed a few items from the shelves on the way out, directing Beryl to grab some herself. With the main sitting room definitively torched, they took up position in the library. For most location spells, one would need something from the pony one was trying to locate. However, with somepony as prominent as Celestia, a centuries-old alicorn with the power to move the sun and moon, there were ways around that. Despite this, none of the methods they attempted were successful. Maps of Equestria or even the entirety of Equus were consumed wholly by magical flame, revealing nothing, pins fell helter-skelter, pointing in no direction, and an enchanted looking glass returned only a gray murk rather than an image of Celestia’s location. Even without relics, Shadowmere and Berry tried various spells, none of which gave any information on where Celestia was.
Someone like Celestia definitely would have herself carefully warded to protect her person, but even so, the methods they used should have bypassed anything she would be expected to have protecting her. Something else was hiding her, something powerful, if nothing they tried was successful. There were other methods that could find her, no matter what was obscuring her location from magical searches—but those would all require relics that had conveniently been removed from Shadowmere’s stores. They were successful in one instance in locating Nightmare Moon, though all the looking glass showed was that she was in the Everfree Forest, observing a random group of mares. Their intent was not to face her, however, but to find the missing monarch of Equestria, and Celestia remained beyond reach.
“What are we going to do now?” Beryl asked, frustrated and magically taxed by the rituals. “We need more information to act, clearly, unless we are to go after Nightmare Moon ourselves.”
“She is a foe Celestia must face,” Shadowmere said enigmatically, “And eliminating her would leave nopony controlling the sun and moon. No, we must try to get more information from Auzischell.”
“Will he be cooperative?” Beryl asked skeptically.
“Probably not, but it’s not as if we have other options,” Shadowmere admitted, and the Ministry agent nodded in response.
They had gone to a lot of trouble to reimprison the lor, and they weren’t about to release him again so soon. However, there was a way to let him out of his prison while keeping him tethered. The tools for this had fortunately not been stolen from Shadowmere’s home, and soon they had the temporary prison set up around Auzischell’s more permanent prison. A multicolored cord was wrapped around the lid of the sphere they had trapped him in, and a circle of black candles that smelled of rosemary burned around it. When Shadowmere was confident that Auzischell would not be able to escape, he opened the prison sphere.
The lor emerged from his prison, slowly expanding like an inflating balloon. His scaly equine form looked somewhat insubstantial and was only around forty percent of his true size, so the trap must have been successful in containing him. Tendrils of energy were wrapped around each of his ankles, leading back into the trap he had emerged from, and he shifted his hooves as he stood on nothing above his prison.
“Decided to let me go already, have you?” Auzischell asked snarkily, baring a grin filled with pointed teeth.
“There is no time for jokes, Auzischell, as you well know,” Shadowmere berated him, and the lor frowned with annoyance at the use of his name. “Someone freed you only to manipulate you into keeping us out of the picture. Tell us who so that we can deal with them.”
“There’s nothing I can say to you,” Auzischell replied, “You who manipulated me to trap me again.”
“Come now. You don’t want revenge on them? The labyrinths you trapped us in contained clues as to what was happening in the real world. Why else would you do something like that?”
“Perhaps I was simply using what I saw. Not even I could tell you why I would do such a thing,” Auzischell said, a frown still creasing his brow.
“Why protect them?” Shadowmere asked, his patience straining.
“This conversation is pointless,” the lor said with finality.
“Wait,” Beryl said. “Is it that you won’t tell us or can’t tell us?”
The lor said nothing, but directed a wide, unnerving smile at Berry.
“Why give us hints in the labyrinth, and then nothing now?” Berry asked as she directed her attention to Shadowmere. “Perhaps it’s because of a lor’s penchant for puzzles, or perhaps it’s because he’s prevented from sharing information with us. We know our foe, or foes, are crafty—they’ve managed to evade us all this time—so it’s not beyond the realm of possibility to think they would have covered their tracks and prevented Auzischell from sharing anything with us. But, they couldn’t completely stop him from incorporating obscure references in the labyrinth or control every word of his speech now.”
Shadowmere contemplated Beryl’s theory for a moment before leaning toward Auzischell and reaching out his hooves. When the lor shied away, Shadowmere sighed.
“Auzischell, may I inspect your mind for signs of interference?” the immortal asked.
Auzischell remained silent, but he closed his eyes and bowed his scaly head. Shadowmere hovered his hooves over the lor’s scalp, tracing patterns in the air as he closed his own eyes and concentrated. His face scrunched up in a visage of pain several times before he reopened his eyes and leaned back.
“There is a powerful enchantment over his mind,” Shadowmere reported. “However… I dare not remove it.”
“Why not?” Berry asked.
“It is beyond my ability to safely remove,” Shadowmere said. “The attempt would almost certainly destroy his mind.”
Auzischell hummed sadly, but didn’t seem surprised. “My crown is tighter than yours, after all,” he said.
“What does that mean?” Shadowmere inquired, but the lor shrugged.
“I can’t say.”
“Berry, may I?” Shadowmere asked as he rose from his seat and approached her.
“Inspect my mind?” she asked. When he nodded, she nodded in reply, giving her consent.
She wasn’t sure what she would feel as Shadowmere moved his hooves around her head. She’d never thought of her mind as having a physical form before, other than in training against psychic attacks, and she tried not to imagine it as a wall and so interfere with whatever Shadowmere was doing. She could feel something now, as if her mind had dimensions that she could barely quantify; it was being shifted around, moved, pushed, and reshaped as if it were a wineskin being inspected for leaks. Occasionally she would feel a twinge, as if a splinter were being pulled out, and with one final tug, she felt a spike of alarm.
Something had been interfering with her mind for some time now, clouding it, making things calm where they should have remained sharp. There was some danger she’d recognized in the moment, but never acted upon because it no longer seemed so important. Threats were never addressed, because they ceased to feel like threats. There was something missing, and she was beginning to remember. Wait, the lor is not the only lead we have for who might have taken Celestia!
“Wait,” Shadowmere commanded as Berry opened her mouth to speak her revelation.
Quickly and carefully, Shadowmere repeated what he’d done for the mare on himself, while he could still remember what he had found. He remained steady on his hooves, but didn’t hesitate to retake his seat the moment he’d completed removing the enchantment from his own mind.
“Malthus,” Berry said once he gestured for her to go on.
“Yes, it seems he has managed to make others discount him as a threat. It is likely that all of Canterlot is affected, to keep anyone from questioning his longevity and proximity to Celestia,” Shadowmere said. “Only he knew how to enter my chambers through the Perpendicularity Gate, he has long desired to reclaim the Eye of Larghast, and Celestia’s trust would allow him the opportunity to detain her, however he has done so.”
“When I first saw him in the Royal Court, I resolved to submit a report to the Ministry to investigate him, but now I realize I never did so,” Berry admitted, “And when I encountered his private chambers, I sensed a dark power coming from them, but once we’d dealt with the djinn, I again failed to act on my suspicions.”
“Was it Malthus who freed you to imprison us?” Shadowmere asked Auzischell.
“I cannot say,” the lor replied.
“Thank you, Auzischell. We will speak again,” Shadowmere said, and the lor’s expression softened slightly with a faint note of surprise, before Shadowmere tugged on the cord around the top of his trap and he was drawn back inside.
“Malthus’s chambers are in Canterlot Castle,” Beryl said once Auzischell was again contained.
“He is unlikely to be there,” Shadowmere said, “But there should be something that will allow us to find him, and with him, hopefully we will also find Celestia.”
***
Canterlot remained in confusion when Shadowmere and Beryl emerged from Rosethorn Hall, though there was less activity than when they’d arrived. The caretakers had managed to get the orphans back inside, so they were able to cross the lawn without interruption and return to the streets. Some ponies remained outside, gathered in groups or speaking to the CPD officers still trying to reassure the populace, but most had either retreated to their homes and drawn the shades, as if to block out the truth of the sky, or gone on to work to try to pretend that everything was normal.
The guards at Canterlot Castle were frantic, not surprising given the disappearance of the pony they were meant to be guarding. They didn’t do anything to halt Beryl from entering the castle once she flashed her Ministry badge, even if she wasn’t in uniform. Shadowmere found his own way to slip inside without being noticed, and soon they were at their destination. Malthus’s quarters were right where Berry (now) remembered them being. The door remained as she’d last encountered it, made of ancient wood and covered in wards exuding barely restrained fury.
“Malthus, what have you done?” Shadowmere asked as he examined the wards. “I won’t be able to enter, not without needing extensive time to dismantle some of these wards. Take this.”
Shadowmere produced a coin-sized dream catcher from his saddlebags, and Berry took it in her magic. The immortal then pulled a knife from his bandolier and used it to carefully scratch through several of the wards on the door, mindful not to nick any others that would react violently to such removal. Given the impression of these wards, Beryl wondered what could apply specifically to Shadowmere, though she still didn’t truly understand what he was. Pony? Monster? Something in between, or something else entirely? They were questions she’d managed to put off thinking about, but now that she knew Malthus had suppressed concern about him, she wondered if it had been entirely in her control to do so. It was something she would need to address, but right now there were more pressing matters to deal with.
Though it made her eyes water to do it so close to the overwhelming pressure of the remaining wards, Beryl cast a spell to disable the mundane locks on the door before pushing it open. The room beyond was abandoned, but Beryl remained on edge as she entered in case Malthus were to appear or had precautions aside from the excessive warding on the room’s entrance. The room itself appeared suspiciously normal, with nothing to suggest the pony who lived here had the means to place the wards on the door that led in. It was decorated plainly, like any functional room in the castle, with a small seating area off to one side and a coatrack next to the door. On the wall facing the door was a low dresser with several ordinary items on it, though the one that caught Beryl’s attention with a shock was a small looking glass. One might assume it was used purely for Malthus to check his mane and clothes before leaving, but Berry recalled another looking glass in Matriarch Tower used by the Yx cult that had looked out on this very scene. It all but proved that Malthus had been in league with the cultists who had attempted to summon the Old God to this world.
A door to the left led to Malthus’s bedroom, which contained more wards clustered around the dark four-poster bed, as well as his clothing (dark suits and ragged cloaks), but nothing too suspicious. Likewise, the bathroom off the entry was as normal as could be, as was the kitchen and dining area to the right. The back room wedged between kitchen and bathroom, however, was anything but normal. The door was securely locked, but Berry was able to undo these without too much arcane pressure on her as she cast the spell. Apparently these locks were more to keep out visitors that Malthus had already let in as opposed to interlopers stopped by the front-door wards. This room looked like a compressed version of Shadowmere’s hideout beneath Rosethorn Hall, with bizarre items, materials in jars, and many ancient-looking books. Beryl carefully paged through some of books left on a workbench, though many were in obscure languages she couldn’t read or made her eyes swim, as if the words were trying to pull themselves off the page. Those she could read were most alarming, as they almost universally dealt with how to bypass magical wards and overcome resistances, with the topic of how to kill immortals coming up consistently. Was Malthus searching for a way to kill Celestia, or was it Shadowmere he was concerned with? He’d broken into Rosethorn Hall repeatedly, after all, and must have expected he might run into the immortal monster slayer eventually.
“Whatever his intent, he hasn’t killed her yet or we’d know it,” Shadowmere said after Beryl completed her inspection and shared her concerns. “Now, however, we should have the means to track him.”
Taking the dreamcatcher from Berry, Shadowmere sought out a public washroom. Judging from how directly he went, he must have spent some of the time while the Ministry agent was investigating Malthus’s quarters locating it. That, or he was more familiar with the layout of Canterlot Castle than he let on. The washroom was small, with barely enough room for the two ponies to fit in between the toilet, sink, and cupboard for toiletries and linens. Immediately Shadowmere turned on the faucet and started plugging every drain in the room, including shoving towels into gaps between the door and doorframe.
“What are we doing?” Beryl asked as water began to pool around her hooves.
“Malthus could be anywhere and can move around incredibly quickly, more quickly even than we can follow by passage,” Shadowmere explained as the room slowly filled with water and he sorted through the contents of various pouches draped about his person. “We can also get much closer to where he is if we follow the last path he took, but to determine that, we’ll need to go to the Nexus. The totem you took into his quarters should be well-infused with his aura and will let us track him there. There are less … unpleasant ways to enter the Nexus, but they would require preparation that we don’t have time for. This is the ‘quick and dirty’ way to enter it.”
As the water continued to rise, Shadowmere ducked under the surface briefly to scratch a runic circle into the floor, whose lines burned even underwater. Berry was forced to paddle as the room filled in order to keep her head above the rising level of water. Shadowmere presently joined her after finishing his inscription.
“After I open the third vial,” he said, gesturing with a trio of glass tubes filled with dubious powders, “Count to three and then breathe in the water. Your lungs need to be filled.”
Beryl obviously had concerns but no time to voice them as the water completed filling the room and she and Shadowmere were both submerged. She kept her eyes on the stallion as he undid the three vials and allowed the powders to disperse into the water. After the three seconds had passed, Shadowmere opened his mouth to breathe in, and for a moment Beryl had a pang of fear. He was unable to die, but would she also survive this experience? How far was she willing to trust him? In the end, she followed his lead and breathed in the water, overriding her body and her instincts. It hurt fiercely, but she forced herself to fill her lungs with water.
Her vision tunneled as her body dealt with the lack of oxygen, and she thought that perhaps she’d made a terrible mistake. Everything seemed distant, as if she was swimming in an ocean of water rather than just a small room’s worth, though she could blurrily make out the walls of the washroom in the distance, distorted and stretched. Suddenly, she felt herself falling, pulled along by the water around her. A crash of noise coincided with the water impacting something solid, and Beryl’s body hit that same something soon after. Desperately, she tried to expel the water from her lungs and gasped for air as the water dispersed around her. After a few seconds of forcing her lungs to work properly, she realized the water was floating away as mist, and tendrils also ran from her mouth and nostrils, whatever remained in her lungs clearing itself away.
Once she confirmed that she wasn’t going to die, Beryl was able to collect herself and see just where she was now. Clearly, they were no longer in a washroom in Canterlot Castle. The surface beneath Beryl’s hooves, she was now able to perceive, was not one solid substance, but was composed of numerous glowing purple threads running in parallel. Looking around, everything was composed of the same threads, an innumerable number of them forming a structure around her that resembled Manehattan’s Grand Central Station, if it was expanded several hundred times. Where she could see outside the station, there was only a void, pitch black without even stars to light it.
“It’s a train station,” Beryl commented.
“If that is how you perceive it,” Shadowmere said as he finished straightening himself out.
“Malthus comes here?” Berry asked.
“Not exactly,” Shadowmere explained as he started walking. “The way Malthus travels, he steps through one door and emerges from another somewhere else as soon as he steps through. The experience is instantaneous, but in truth, his soul travels along these threads from door to door. We’re in the interstice, the space between spaces, and these connecting threads form the Nexus. His passage causes the thread he travels along to vibrate, and with this, we can match the resonance of his aura to find which thread he last traveled along.”
As Shadowmere produced the miniature dreamcatcher, Beryl could hear a faint chiming sound coming from it now, echoed from multiple places around them.
“Malthus has been traveling a lot in the past few hours,” Shadowmere observed as he looked around, his ears twitching and swiveling, trying to latch onto the most intense reply from the threads.
The two of them traveled through the Nexus, seeking out which thread resonated the loudest. The journey took them through multiple disembarking halls and across several platforms, at least from Beryl’s perspective. She had no idea how Shadowmere perceived the Nexus, but given his reaction and the fact that he’d been born long before trains had been conceived of, she had to assume it was something far different. At the moment, she didn’t want to interrupt him to ask, especially given that she was also carefully listening for the proper thread. When they located it, Shadowmere paused before snapping the dreamcatcher in half.
“Keep your hoof on the thread,” he commanded, doing so himself. “Malthus used this one not long ago. Be ready for anything.”
After Berry nodded, Shadowmere dragged the broken edge of the dreamcatcher across the thread they had identified. There was a sudden twanging sound, like the breaking of a guitar’s string, and Beryl found herself yanked off of her hooves. Her sense of self was muddled as she was dragged along at incredible speed. Her vision was a blur of purple as she was drawn through and out of the Nexus until the only thing in her sight was a single purple line twisting and winding through infinite darkness. Before she could even fully register it, a wooden door appeared ahead of her, suspended in the darkness, and she and Shadowmere both slammed into it. Hinges squealed as they were pulled out of their mountings and a crunch sounded as the lock splintered the nonexistent frame. A bright light flashed for an instant before resolving into a darkened but not lightless scene.
Shadowmere and Berry’s weight continued to propel the door as it was torn from its hinges, and it skidded off a rough wooden porch and stairs before impacting sand-covered ground and sending the two ponies flying. As Berry rose, shaking sand from her mane, tail, and clothing, she took in the beach they had landed on. Beneath the moonlight, the sand stretched out to where waves lapped lazily, rolling with foam further out in the ocean. A line of tropical trees stood opposite the water, and between them a line of vacation beach homes in a rustic style. The door they had torn free of its mounting had once been the front entrance of one of these homes. Now a damaged doorway looked in on the dark and abandoned interior.
She couldn’t spend too long staring at the scenery, however. Malthus could be anywhere around here, and perhaps Celestia would be as well. If not, they would need to obtain that information from him, and it was unlikely that he would offer it up willingly. After ensuring that her weapons and gear had survived the journey first through water and then through the tumble in the sand, she rejoined Shadowmere, who was making checks of his own.
They set off down the beach in search of Malthus. Shadowmere seemed to have a sense of where the traitor was located now that they were in close proximity, and it didn’t take them long to find him. Malthus advanced along the beach toward them, as though he could also sense their presence, a shadowy figure whose ragged cloak billowed around him in the ocean breeze. Locks of his blood-red mane flicked in and out of the hood he had pulled up over his head, providing the only flicker of color on his person.
“So, you’ve come for me?!” Malthus called out once they were within shouting distance, and his steps came to a stop.
“Did you believe I wouldn’t?!” Shadowmere called back as he and Beryl followed suit and temporarily ceased their advance.
“No, I should have known there was no escaping you, even after twelve centuries!” Malthus replied. “I should have known!”
“You know how this will end!”
“Do I?!” Malthus challenged him. “How it will go may be certain, but how it will end is not yet written!” Malthus turned his attention toward Beryl. “And who are you that Shadowmere has ensnared in his net?”
“Agent Beryl Fields of the Ministry!” Beryl called back, seeing no reason to withhold the information now.
“Of course!” Malthus replied with a harsh laugh. “Graveshard, heed my call!”
A teal crystalline sword materialized in the air in front of Malthus, and he seized it in his magic.
“Daybreak, to me!” Shadowmere called, summoning his own sword as Malthus charged at him, and he galloped across the sand to meet him.
The two ancient stallions met, their blades striking against each other and ringing out above the crashing waves. Their swords spun, thrusting, wheeling, striking, and pulling back as they tried to hit each other, sand thrown around by their hooves as they danced across the beach. Beryl advanced, but kept her distance to avoid being diced apart by the blades. She attempted to ensnare Malthus’s limbs with a spell, but her magic slipped away, repelled by wards he’d placed on his clothes or his body. Drawing her crossbow, she fired an explosive bolt behind him, throwing the unicorn off balance. He directed his attention temporarily toward the Ministry agent, and the sand around her rose up into a prison, solidifying into glass. Beryl easily smashed herself free with a spell, and Malthus’s distraction saw Shadowmere’s sword clip through his cloak’s hood, exposing his head as the cloth fell back to either side.
Beryl rolled through the sand as Malthus spoke arcane words and a sphere of pulsing purple energy appeared above his head and sent scattered blasts her way, scorching the sand wherever they struck. Berry conjured up a shield to block the blasts as she fired her crossbow through it, carefully aiming her shots and using her magic to guide the quarrels after they’d been launched into Malthus’s body. He stumbled with several embedded in his legs, and Shadowmere swung heavily for him. Malthus brought up his sword to block anyway, but it shattered as Shadowmere’s struck it. Graveshard reformed, however, and it was whole again by the time Malthus plunged it into Shadowmere’s chest. In the same instant, Daybreak swept through Malthus’s neck, separating his head from his body.
As both ponies collapsed, Berry ran up to Shadowmere. The sword had impaled his heart, and would have killed any other pony, but of course he was still alive. It must not have been a pleasant experience, though, as the stallion gritted his teeth. Beryl assisted in pulling Graveshard from his heart so that he could heal. No sooner had she removed the blade, however, than Shadowmere shoved her aside. Quickly regaining her hooves, she spotted a magical sword embedded in the sand where she had just been. Nearby, his horn glowing, stood Malthus, his head reattached to his body, the wound across his neck slowly knitting itself back together as tendrils of blood hovered around it. He was also unkillable?
“How will it end, Shadowmere?” Malthus taunted. “Will it end at all?”
Reattaching the hoof that Malthus’s magical blade had succeeded in shearing off, Shadowmere charged again at him. Malthus dodged back now, trying to stay out of range of his opponent’s blade. Shadowmere threw bombs to attempt to pin him in, and a glow matching that of his horn wrapped around his entire body and he lifted himself into the air to escape. Berry summoned a storm of blades around Malthus, surrounding him in whirling edges that sliced at his cloak and flesh.
“Graveshard, heed my call!” Malthus called, and the crystalline blade soared up from where it had been discarded in the sand.
Shadowmere sidestepped the sword as it flew past him up to the hovering Malthus. As Malthus used Graveshard to deflect and dispel the whirling blades around him, Shadowmere ran under him and quickly drew his hooves through the sand, drawing a magic circle. Beryl opened a portal above Malthus, and seawater cascaded over him, disorienting him. He plummeted like a stone as Shadowmere finished his magic circle and gravity increased dramatically in the cylinder the unicorn was hovering in.
The seawater was flash-boiled into a cloud of steam that puffed out from where Malthus had fallen, followed by a disc of energy at knee-level. So close, Shadowmere lost all his limbs, but Berry was far enough away to put a shield in place to block it in time. Shifting her portal so that the one in the sea was now in front of her, she threw a bomb down at Malthus. The explosion went off, too late as Malthus appeared outside of the cloud of steam, having teleported away.
A bolt of lightning shot from the traitorous unicorn’s horn, and Beryl struggled to deflect it up and away with her magic. Shadowmere managed to put himself back together and rushed Malthus, forcing him to cease his lightning. A flurry of sword swipes surrounded the two again, until Shadowmere managed to get through Malthus’s defense, his sword cleaving the stallion in two. His halves spun away from each other before teleporting away in twin flashes of light.
While he was in the midst of putting himself back together further down the beach, Beryl threw another bomb from her saddlebags. This one didn’t deal damage when it exploded over him, however, but it did rain slivers of metal down onto him. Instantly, Malthus’s magic ceased, though his unnatural healing didn’t, meaning that it must have been intrinsic to him, like with Shadowmere. Graveshard, which had come with him in his teleportation, ceased levitating, and he quickly grabbed it in his mouth as Shadowmere arrived.
Another swordfight commenced, this time with both ponies gripping their weapons between their teeth. Malthus shifted as they fought, bringing them closer to the shore, though it cost him several gashes and quarrel impacts to do so. As Shadowmere swung his sword down at Malthus, the unicorn threw out his cloak, entangling Shadowmere’s blade, before pulling himself free of the tattered cloth. His body clad only now in his armor, he threw himself into the water, rolling through the waves and damp sand in an attempt to wash off the remnants of Beryl’s bomb blocking his magic. Shadowmere flung away the cloak from his sword and swung Daybreak toward Malthus, who managed to meet the swing with Graveshard again levitated.
“Enjoying the darkness, Shadowmere?” Malthus taunted, as their duel continued, managing to parry Shadowmere’s strikes even with his wet hair hanging in strands in front of his singular eye. “Darkness was always your ally, wasn’t it?”
“I won’t hear talk of allies from a traitor,” Shadowmere grumbled through Daybreak’s hilt.
“And you who has nothing to betray!” Malthus cried. “Loyal only to yourself! Not a care for those around you except as useful tools!”
Berry was finding it increasingly difficult to keep track of the two immortals, as they fought through the surf, and find ways that she could strike at Malthus without also striking Shadowmere. Her crossbow remained an effective tool, though her quarrels were beginning to run low, as she’d not managed to recover all those that Malthus had pulled from his flesh and scattered across the beach. As she fired at an opportune moment, her quarrel managed to strike Malthus in the head, piercing his eyepatch and sinking into his skull. The unicorn gritted his teeth, and Shadowmere paused for a moment before resuming his assault.
“Like her! How long have you two been in league?! How long until it is too late for her?” Malthus shouted. “Death would be a mercy! I know full well there is no killing you, but there are other ways to make you pay for what you did to Celestia!”
“What he did to Celestia?” Beryl questioned, though she didn’t cease to let quarrels loose, one striking Malthus’s horn.
“And you!” Malthus yelled as he continued to swing his sword in a flurry. “You and your Ministry who was supposed to protect Equestria from the darkness, not betray the monarch who had charged you with this duty and plunge the world into Nighttime Eternal!”
“Where is the Eye of Larghast?” Shadowmere asked as he backed off from his assault, but still held Daybreak ready to fend off attack.
“How should I know?” Malthus growled as his eye narrowed. “It wasn’t something I could be trusted with, now was it?”
“And the Perpendicularity Gate?”
“I haven’t been to the Perpendicularity since we sealed it,” Malthus said warily, ceasing his attacks and glaring at Shadowmere suspiciously. “I’m no fool, Shadowmere.”
“Where is Celestia?” was his next question.
“Wherever you have taken her!” Malthus said, enraged. “If I cannot save her, then I will avenge her!”
“Malthus!” Berry cried before he could begin swinging at Shadowmere again, “Are you a loyal servant of Celestia?”
“Of course, traitor,” Malthus snarled.
“I believe we’ve all been deceived,” Berry postulated, coming to the same deduction as Shadowmere. “We were searching for you because everything pointed to you being the one to orchestrate Celestia’s disappearance. I would wager it was the same for you.”
“Only he could have imprisoned me during Nightmare Moon’s return,” Malthus said, his eye flicking toward Shadowmere.
“Only you could have entered my hideout through the Perpendicularity Gate, and the Eye of Larghast was missing,” Shadowmere countered.
“If I knew where your hideout was, do you think I would have spent every moment since I broke free searching for you?” Malthus asked.
“Someone pointed us at each other,” Berry continued, allowing her crossbow to fully drop now that it seemed violence was no longer imminent. “Who?”
“I thought you knew, though it seems the rot may not go as deep as I feared,” Malthus replied.
“What is that supposed to mean,” Beryl asked, growing slightly on edge again.
“There are two ponies who could convince Celestia to let her guard down enough to imprison her definitively. I am one,” Malthus said. “The other is Director Thistleback.”
To be continued…
The mare’s hoofsteps echoed off the walls of ancient stone, lending an eerie quality to her journey. Night had fallen many hours earlier, and now all but the most major streets were deserted of ponies. Not every pony had the luxury of getting off of work before sunset, however, and the mare was now making her way home through the twisting labyrinth of streets and alleys that snaked through the housing district. She wasn’t scared; after all, she’d made this trip many times before, and the streets of Canterlot were the safest in Equestria.
The street lamps flickered as she turned off the well-lit street into the dark alley she took as a shortcut to her home. She paused at the most dimly lit part of the passage as she thought she heard the sound of wings from behind. She looked around for a minute before concluding it was either the wind or some pegasus passing overhead.
As she turned back around, she found herself staring into cruel and burning eyes. She tried to run, but was hooked by a massive claw and dragged back. Her screams cut through the night as she was torn to shreds and her blood soaked into the cobblestones.
Darkest Shadows
***
The street was in chaos the next morning as the Canterlot Police tried to hold back inquisitive ponies. The nearby buildings had already been evacuated, the crime scene had been taped off, and a tent had been erected over the victim to hide her from prying eyes. As an added measure, one of the unicorn officers was holding a low level shield up over the area, discouraging any curious pegasi from trying to jump the lines.
A wine-colored mare waded through the crowd, flashing a badge whenever she encountered resistance. She wore a uniform, though not of the Canterlot Police Department. Whereas the CPD wore uniforms of black and white, a silhouette of Canterlot on the shoulders, this mare’s uniform was a deep navy. Instead of an image of the city, her shoulders bore a crest composed of a sword and key crossed over a shield. Words ringed it, proclaiming “To Protect Her Royal Majesty and Her Subjects from Nightmares Within and Without.”
“Stay back from the lines,” a police stallion warned her as she approached.
“Agent Beryl Fields,” she introduced herself as she flashed her badge at the officer long enough for him to take no more than a glance. Most ponies didn’t know her organization existed, and they didn’t need to. All they needed to know was that she was important enough to be allowed passage. Unfortunately, today wasn’t going to be an easy day.
“I’m sorry ma’am, but the scene is closed to every organization except the CPD. I suggest you speak to the Station Commander at the Palace about a joint effort,” the stallion replied.
Beryl sighed. “I’m from the Ministry,” she proclaimed.
“Which ministry?”
“The Ministry,” Beryl replied, though it seemed futile; apparently, nopony had told this officer even the most basic rules about the chain of command in Canterlot. The Ministry was above all.
“What’s going on here?” another officer asked as she trotted up to where Beryl and the police-stallion.
“This mare won’t back off,” the stallion got the first word in, “Claims she’s from some ministry or other.”
The police-mare’s eyes widened at that, and she glanced at Beryl’s uniform, spying the crest on her shoulder.
“My apologies,” she said as she motioned for a hole in the shield to be opened, “Go right through, Agent Fields.”
“Thank you,” Beryl said as she stepped toward the opening.
“Wait, what’s this all about?” the police-stallion asked, “What’s the Ministry.”
“Fine, I’ll tell you all you need to know,” Beryl sighed as she turned around to face him, “The Ministry is a secret organization under the command of Celestia herself. We wield absolute power and authority in Equestria; the power to make those who get in our way disappear. This time was an honest mistake, but if you even think about obstructing our efforts again, I promise you will not like the outcome.”
“Is that enough for you?” Beryl asked with a mocking smile.
“Y-yes,” the stallion replied. She had been deadly serious and he knew it.
Hoping for no further interruptions, Beryl turned and trotted through the shield, the magical barrier closing up behind her. Pushing the tent flap open, she stepped into the crime scene. Within a pool of blood lay the body of a mare, or rather the pieces of the body of a mare. Shreds of tattered flesh were scattered through the pool, but the majority of the body was equally divided in half, as if some creature had grabbed the pony and torn her in two. Of course, Beryl knew better than most that such a thing was entirely possible. Two more ponies were examining the body: a grizzled earth pony stallion and a pegasus with a camera, using her wings to get a shot from every angle.
“Agent Berry, glad you could come,” the stallion greeted her as he noticed her presence.
“I was hoping it would be you, Grey Wind,” Beryl admitted, “I had a bit of a fiasco outside. Didn’t you warn them I was coming?”
“What, and admit the Ministry exists?” he replied sarcastically, acting offended.
“Fine, be that way, you stubborn old fool,” Berry laughed, “So, what’ve we got here?”
“Well, we don’t know much more than what you see here,” Grey Wind replied, “Early in the morning, some of the nearby residents called us reporting screams. When we got here, there was nothing but the remains of the body, and no sign of whatever attacked this mare.”
“Any magical discharges in the area?” Beryl asked, staring at the mutilated corpse.
“None that our officers could pick up, I’m afraid,” Grey Wind said, shooing the photographer out of the tent before he continued speaking, “What do you think could have done this?”
“I don’t know; the damage is pretty severe,” Beryl said as she probed the corpse with her own magic.
“Do you think it could have been a werewolf?”
“No, I seriously doubt that,” Beryl said, shaking her head, “There hasn’t been a werewolf spotting in Canterlot in fifty years. And besides, the moon’s not at the proper phase for werewolf activity.”
“I can’t think of anything else that could’ve caused this much damage,” Grey Wind said, gesturing at the two halves of the dead mare.
“Oh, I can think of plenty of things, and none of them pleasant.” Beryl said with a grimace, “However, none of them make sense. The body was left in the open, practically untouched apart from being ripped in two, and there are no sinister magical signs in the area.”
“So what do we do now?” Grey asked.
“Collect the mare’s remains and have them sent to the Ministry for further inspection,” Beryl commanded, pulling out a pair of sunglasses before stepping out of the tent, “There’s nothing more your officers can do here.”
***
After Nightmare Moon’s rebellion, Celestia formed the EUP Guard to protect herself from threats. This is common history, taught in every school and found in every textbook in Equestria. What few ponies know, however, is that the EUP was not the only new organization that Celestia formed after Luna’s banishment. After the moon princess was expelled from the world, the evil creatures of the dark—the creatures Luna had held at bay for centuries—become suddenly more active. To combat these nightmares, Celestia formed a secret order known only as “The Ministry.” What began with a few knights pledged to destroy unholy threats to the realm soon became a massive organization. Hidden branch offices exist in every major city in Equestria, dispatching agents to combat the supernatural wherever it rears its ugly head. The head of the Ministry, however, is in Canterlot, built into the mountain itself during the construction of the city, the location of its well-concealed and magically warded entrance known only to a few. Beryl Fields is one of those few.
“You’re back soon, Berry,” one of the security mares called to her as she lowered the magical shield protecting the Ministry’s entrance. As she did so, the other security mare raised one up behind Beryl.
“There wasn’t much to be done in the field,” she admitted, “Whatever I’m looking for didn’t leave a trace.”
The shield behind her rose back up as she entered the Ministry’s massive foyer. Ministry agents were scattered throughout the hall, chatting with colleagues or preparing to be assigned. Armored agents stood at attention along the perimeter, appearing docile, but in reality they were actively scanning the room with invisible magic for any threat. The far wall was dominated by the Ministry’s symbol—the shield, sword, and key—and two magical notice boards neighbored it. The one on the left cycled through important announcements for incoming agents, and the one on the right held the total number of incidents for the month. Currently it read 83, unusually high for the time of year, especially considering only two weeks had passed in the current month.
“Hey Berry, you’re back quicker than I expected,” a dull blue pegasus said as he landed next to her.
“Roaring Thunder, how many times must I tell you to address me as Senior Agent Beryl Fields?” Beryl said, narrowing her eyes.
“Oh, c’mon, don’t put on that superior attitude,” Thunder said, matching pace with Beryl as she trotted down one of the Ministry’s hallways, “I’ve only been here a few years fewer than you.”
“That doesn’t change the fact that I’m senior to you,” Beryl said with a scowl, “Or that your experience doesn’t come near to mine. Can you even hit a moving target with your crossbow?”
“You know I prefer lances,” he said, gesturing with his wings to the assortment strapped to his back, “Not every agent has to be an expert marksmare like you.”
Beryl harrumphed in response and quickened her pace.
“Fine, be as bullheaded as always,” Thunder said, “I’m taking a team to investigate a disturbance in White Tail Wood. You should come along on a mission some time.”
“You know I work alone,” Beryl grumbled, but Thunder had already sped off.
During her conversation with the irksome pegasus, she had reached her office; just one nondescript door in a hallway of nondescript doors. The magical lock recognized her presence and let her pass through into the office. It wasn’t the largest in the Ministry, but it was good enough for Beryl’s needs. She hung her crossbow up on the wall before trotting over and sitting down behind her desk.
“Access Bestiary,” she spoke aloud as she focused her magic on a small gem set into the desk’s surface, “I need descriptions of all monsters known to tear victims apart without eating them and who leave no magical signature.”
After waiting for a moment, a stack of papers materialized on her desk in a burst of flame and smoke. The stack wasn’t very thick, but there were more pages than Beryl had expected. Setting to work, she searched through them for anything that could match what she’d seen in the alleyway. A few of the results proved hopeful, but appeared less so after the autopsy report came in later in the day. Still, Beryl continued to search for any possible lead, widening her search in hopes of stumbling upon something she’d missed before. By the end of the day, she was no closer to figuring out what had committed the attack, and resigned herself to searching through records by hoof. That, however, would have to wait until morning.
***
The police stallion let her through without a problem this time, no doubt remembering her lecture from the day before. Beryl was surprised to learn upon awakening that another identical attack had occurred in the night. Grey Wind was once again there as she stepped into the tent that covered another unfortunate mare’s mutilated corpse.
“I hoped we wouldn’t have to call you in again so soon,” Grey Wind said as he noticed Berry, “Do you think it’s the same thing that attacked yesterday?”
“I’m almost sure of it,” Beryl said as she examined the victim.
“Have you figured out what it could be?” Grey Wind asked hopefully.
“I’ll be honest with you; I have no idea. None of the monsters I suspected seem to fit the bill,” Berry said with a sigh, “I’m going to manually search through the old records today just in case I find something.”
Berry’s head jerked up as her magic sensed something. She hadn’t expected anything after the day before, but had decided to try just in case, and she had picked up a magical trail nearby.
“What is it?” Grey Wind asked.
“I’ve got something,” Beryl said as she stepped out of the tent, following her horn, “It’s faint—too faint for your officers to have picked up—but there’s definitely something.”
Beryl’s magic led her a short distance away from the crime scene, Grey Wind following. Curiously enough, she was detecting two magical trails, one extremely faint, and another only slightly stronger. They converged over a small pile of stone dust. Beryl waved her horn over the dust, but detected nothing from it. Looking around, she saw that she was standing next to a construction site, so it may have been mere coincidence that the trails met here. Being a mare of the Ministry, however, Beryl did not believe in coincidences, and scooped a bit of the dust up into a vial to take back to be tested.
“Have you found something?” Grey Wind inquired.
“I think so,” Beryl replied, “There are two magical trails here, and it looks like one follows the other, as if it was tracking whatever left the first one. I’m going to follow them and see where they lead. Have the victim’s remains sent to the Ministry, just like before.”
“Of course; good hunting,” Grey Wind wished Beryl as she took off following the magical trails.
Beryl worked her way through city, feeling with her magic for the trails as they grew fainter. It was lucky she’d showed up when she had. It wouldn’t be long before they faded completely. Several times she thought she’d lost the trail after entering busy areas filled with ponies. The business day was in full swing in Canterlot, and many ponies didn’t appreciate a unicorn pushing past them with her head in the air. Her intrusions earned her several curses, and she even lost the trail for a few minutes after crashing into a lavender unicorn with her nose buried in a book. Luckily, the other mare seemed more preoccupied with resuming her reading than berating Beryl, so she was able to recover the trail before it grew cold.
Her search led her deeper into Canterlot, and closer to Canterlot Mountain until, quite suddenly, she was forced to stop. A towering wall blocked her path, soaring up several stories at least. The paths diverged here anyway. The older (and fainter) trail continued through the wall, but the newer trail stopped at the wall and suddenly shot off in the opposite direction. Following it only led her back to the wall, then away, then back again, before it finally shot off into the sky, dispersing as it got further away.
Giving up on following that trail until she became an alicorn (not very likely) or got help from Roaring Thunder (even less likely), she turned her attention back to the trail that passed through the wall. As an agent of the Ministry, Beryl knew many powerful spells, and cast one on herself that would allow her to pass through solid matter. Taking a step forward, she pushed herself into the wall.
Without warning, she was suddenly thrown backwards, bouncing and rolling across the cobblestones. The remains of a magical discharge sizzled around her as she stood up. Rubbing her sore head, she contemplated the bizarre turn of events. Now the second trail made sense. Whatever had been following the first creature had been shoved back just as Beryl had. The wall obviously had some powerful enchantments cast upon it. But why would somepony have bothered to cast spells upon this particular wall? Beryl needed answers, and she intended to get them.
***
ROSETHORN HALL
So read the tarnished sign Beryl was staring at. After teleportation had also failed to get her through the wall, she traveled along it until she was able to pass through. Then she retraced her steps, following the wall back to where she’d begun. Canterlot’s streets soon began to push her away from the wall, and by the time she reached her destination there was a whole block between her and the barrier.
Bordering the portion of the wall she’d failed to pass through was a large grassy lot surrounded by a low brick wall topped with high wrought iron bars. Beryl followed the fence to a large iron gate that allowed access to a cobblestone road leading up to a large brick house overgrown with ivy; Rosethorn Hall if the sign on the fence was to be believed.
Pushing open the gate, Beryl made her way up to the front of the mansion. A few young foals ran in front of her as she neared the door, but they seemed to not even notice her, too caught up in whatever game they were playing. When she reached the door, she lifted the heavy knocker and allowed it to slam into the aged wood a few times.
“Sandra, if that’s you knocking with your magic again, I swear-” a robed mare yelled as she yanked open the door, before she saw Beryl standing there, “Oh, my apologies. Please come in.”
Before Beryl could tell the mare the purpose of her visit, she found herself being dragged inside. In no time at all she was sitting on a couch in a dark parlor, the mare seated in a chair across from her.
“I suppose I should begin by asking if you’re looking for a filly or a colt,” the mare said as she pulled a book off a nearby shelf.
“What?” Beryl asked, bewildered at the sudden turn of events, “What are you talking about?”
“You came to adopt, correct?” the mare asked, giving Beryl a concerned look, “Why else would you come here?”
“To be honest, I don’t even know what ‘here’ is,” Beryl admitted.
“Oh,” the mare said, her face falling as she put the book back where she’d gotten it, “My apologies. This is Rosethorn Hall Orphanage, and I’m Mistress Moonlight, one of the ponies tasked with taking care of these poor, parentless foals.”
An orphanage; that certainly explained the foals Beryl had seen playing outside. But it didn’t explain why the wall behind the house was so heavily warded, or why something had been able to pass through. Beryl had picked up no more magical trail leading away from this place, so whatever it was had come to the orphanage. But why?
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know this was an orphanage,” Beryl said when she realized she’d been silent for a few minutes, “From the appearance, I assumed this was some noble’s manor house.”
“Well, it is that too,” Moonlight replied, “Rosethorn Hall is property of the Briarheart family.”
“I’m not familiar with the Briarhearts,” Beryl said, scouring her memory for any mention of the house, “Where do they live if you’re here?”
“Lord Briarheart lives here in a secluded portion of the property, just as the Briarhearts have ever since their family donated it to our cause two centuries ago,” Moonlight explained.
“Wait, he lives here ?” Beryl asked, astounded that a high lord would live in the same house as dozens of foals.
“That’s right. We don’t really see him, as he doesn’t like to be disturbed, but he does leave notes outside his rooms from time to time,” Moonlight said, “We sometimes send food or other items that he requests down to him. In return, he allows us to use the property and grants us anything we ask for the foals.”
“I think I should speak to this Lord Briarheart,” Beryl said. If anypony knew why the home was so carefully guarded, it would be the owner. Besides, a high lord that lived a life hidden from everypony seemed suspicious.
“Oh, I don’t think so; like I said, he doesn’t like to be disturbed,” Moonlight said with a frown.
“He won’t have a choice,” Beryl said, pulling out her badge, “I’m on an investigation with the Ministry.”
“I’m sorry, but it doesn’t matter what organization you’re from,” Moonlight said, standing, “You’re not going to intrude upon Lord Briarheart’s privacy. I know my Celestia-given rights. Unless you have a warrant, I don’t want to see you here again. Now get out of here, this is private property!”
Just as quickly as Beryl had earlier found herself pulled into the building, she was now pushed out. The dazzling return of Celestia’s sun and the slamming of a door behind her were the only warnings that she was being evicted. She spun around to face Rosethorn Hall and angrily stormed up to the door, banging the knocker against the wood repeatedly. This time nopony showed up, however. She was about to knock the door down by force when she felt a tug on the sleeve of her uniform.
“Excuse me miss, what are you doing?” a tiny unicorn filly asked as Beryl turned to see a small crowd of the orphan foals had gathered around her.
“I need to see Lord Briarheart,” Beryl said disdainfully; then an idea came to her, “You wouldn’t happen to know where he is, would you?”
“I don’t think he’s here today,” a pegasus colt in the back spoke up, “The note outside his room said he’d gone to court.”
“Court?” Beryl asked, puzzled how a stallion who spent all his time alone could possibly have committed a misdemeanor requiring a summons to court, “Oh, you mean the Royal Court. I’d forgotten it was in session today. Thanks a lot, kid.”
Beryl made her way through the crowd of foals and off the property. It seemed that Lord Briarheart may not have been as solitary as Moonlight had led her to believe. Either that or the note was a lie. If so, Beryl could always come back after visiting the Royal Court and break the door down then.
***
Throughout Equestria, all ponies pledge allegiance to one ruler: Princess Celestia. To most, she is the government, the one pony who controls the entire land, as well as the Sun and Moon. In reality, however, things are far different. One pony, even an alicorn princess, is not even nearly adequate for controlling a nation as expansive as Equestria. Before Equestria was an empire ruled from Canterlot, it was a mish-mash of small nations, each with their own leader, usually a member of a noble family. As Equestria grew and absorbed these nations, the noble families did not simply disappear. Instead, they moved to the seat of power in Canterlot, where they could make sure their (and to a lesser extent, their subjects’) interests were protected by the imperial government. The Royal Court formed over time, a place where all the noble families in Equestria could meet and discuss (or bicker over) the issues of the day. Celestia’s advisors and the various heads of her governmental programs are for the most part selected by and from the Royal Court. Laws, before they are brought before Celestia, must first be approved in Royal Court. All small matters are also settled in Royal Court instead of being brought to the Princess directly. Royal Court is where the real power in Equestria resides, but it’s also a place where rarely anything is accomplished.
Beryl flattened her ears against her head in a futile attempt to block out some of the noise. She’d never been to Royal Court before, and had no idea it would be so loud! The circular room echoed with the shouts of arguing nobles. The stadium-like seating for the nobles was far below the public seating, but the din carried up to where Beryl and other curious Equestrian citizens watched.
She tried to follow the nobles’ argument, but was soon lost. It didn’t help that they were constantly shouting over each other, or that every noble seemed to be yelling at the same time. Instead, she surveyed the Royal Court, searching for Lord Briarheart. She spotted his assigned place, but it wouldn’t do to interrupt Royal Court (not that she could’ve if she’d tried), so she was forced to wait until they took a break.
In the meantime, she found a courier (indispensible to the Royal Court) and sent her with a message for the Ministry. Soon, a Ministry courier returned with a stack of files for Beryl to sort through: everything the Ministry had on the Briarheart family. There wasn’t much to go on; the entire family seemed to be just as secretive as the current Lord Briarheart.
Only one image was included of a member of the Briarheart family. A portrait made nearly 400 years ago depicted one of Lord Briarheart’s ancestors standing alongside other noble families that had contributed considerable resources to Equestria’s brand new (at the time) airship fleet. One of the airships floated in the background, recently christened as the very first of its kind. It was a momentous occasion that no noble, even the Briarhearts, could have afforded to be absent from, which explained this rare glimpse of the family’s head.
The Lord Briarheart in the portrait was an earth pony stallion with a coat and mane of pure black in a waistcoat and suit that had been popular at the time. Curiously enough, he also wore dark glasses, even though the portrait had been painted on an exceptionally cloudy day. Perhaps this Lord Briarheart had been blind. Then again, Beryl considered, maybe it was genetic and the entire family had visual impairment, which would explain somewhat why they rarely showed themselves in public.
The only way to be able to tell for sure would be to meet the current Lord Briarheart. Though she’d found his position in the Royal Court, Beryl was convinced she still hadn’t seen him. Behind the podium that bore the Briarheart name and sigil (a flaming heart wrapped in thorny vines) sat a pale blue unicorn stallion in a business suit. He seemed to be one of the very few members of the Royal Court not taking part in the argument; instead he scribbled absentmindedly on a pad of parchment.
When the Royal Court finally took a break, Beryl made her way out of the chamber and down to the hallway where the mysterious stallion would emerge. Pushing her way through the crowd of nobles was difficult, but she finally managed to find and follow him to the royal apartments, the complex in Canterlot Castle where nobles could stay when away from home. He’d made it into the Briarheart family quarters by the time Beryl caught up to him, and she knocked on the door, hoping for a quick response. The mysterious stallion didn’t disappoint.
“May I help you?” he asked as he opened the door for Beryl, eyeing her up and down.
“Yes, I’m looking for Lord Briarheart,” she stated, “I have some questions to ask him.”
“I’m afraid you’re out of luck; to my knowledge Lord Briarheart has never personally attended Royal Court. However, I may be able to answer any questions you have; feel free to come in,” the stallion said, motioning Beryl inside.
She obliged, stepping into the royal apartments of the Briarhearts. What she saw surprised her. Instead of lavish rooms stretching in all directions, there was only a single room set up like an office. It was a well-furnished office to be sure, but nothing like what Beryl would have expected for the temporary home of a noble.
“It’s not what you were expecting, I take it?” the stallion asked as he sat down behind an ornate desk, “Like I said, Lord Briarheart rarely, if ever, comes to Royal Court, so his apartments are mostly unused. Since I’m the only one who uses them, the Royal Court decided I only needed a single room, and had the rest added to the families who dwell up and down the hall.”
“Agent Beryl Fields,” she answered, flashing her badge as she took a seat, “And you would be?”
“Silver Shimmer,” the stallion replied, “In case you’re wondering what I’m doing here, I’m Lord Briarheart’s appointed representative in Royal Court.”
“So, are you a relative of the family or something?” Beryl asked.
“Hardly,” Silver Shimmer said, laughing, “No; I’m Lord Briarheart’s accountant.”
“His accountant?” Beryl asked disbelievingly.
“Yes, I handle the Briarheart family’s vast finances, and I also make sure the family is represented in Royal Court,” Silver Shimmer replied, “In fact, I’m the third in my family to do so; my mother and grandmother preceded me in this position.”
“I don’t mean to be rude,” Beryl said, “But I’m having a hard time believing Lord Briarheart would entrust his family’s fate to a clerk.”
“More nobles that you know prefer to have a stake in Royal Court, but don’t wish to be there themselves, so they appoint somepony to take their place,” Silver said, leaning back in his chair, “You’re correct that most choose somepony close to them, and in that Lord Briarheart is somewhat of an irregularity.”
“However, my family has taken good care of the Briarhearts’ wealth over the years, and represented them well in Royal Court. You may know that the Briarhearts are a very secretive family, and we respect that. I make sure that Lord Briarheart’s bank account is always balanced, and I don’t ask any questions. In return, I’ve always received a substantial bonus for Hearth’s Warming that ensures I don’t have to take any additional clients during the upcoming tax season to make ends meet.”
“So, you must know him pretty well,” Beryl said, her thoughts returning to her mission.
“I suppose so,” Silver said, scratching his chin, “He does communicate regularly with me; by letter, of course; I’ve never met him in person.”
“Wait,” Beryl said, waving a hoof in objection, “You’ve never even seen the pony you work for?”
“No; like I said, the Briarhearts are a very secretive family.”
“You’ve never met him, yet you still think you’re qualified to represent him in Royal Court?” Beryl asked.
“I do,” Silver said with conviction, “My main objective is to protect the Briarheart family’s property and title. It’s not hard to tell what threatens that in Royal Court. Have you ever been to Court?”
“Earlier today I was,” Beryl admitted, “Though I couldn’t quite follow the argument.”
“Well, the debate earlier was about the height of the new fences to be erected in Canterlot Southgate Park,” Silver explained, “Some say they should be six pasterns tall, others six-and-a-half.”
“That’s it? ” Beryl asked, he jaw dropping, “That huge shouting match was over the height of fences? ”
“Indeed,” Silver replied, “Not that it matters. When the debate ends, the issue will be sent to the Committee on Public Lands, which will refer it to the Subcommittee on Parks and Recreation, which will refer it to the Canterlot Parks Committee. Ultimately, three ponies will make the decision, and their minds were made up before the debate started.”
“Is every day in Royal Court like this?”
“More or less,” Silver said with a shrug, “Sometimes a more important issue is brought up, and then things get really heated.”
“How does the Royal Court get anything done?” Beryl asked, pressing a hoof against her forehead. The sheer ridiculousness of the situation was giving her a headache.
“Oh, it doesn’t,” Silver replied bluntly, “Just why do you think Celestia allows it to exist? Its power is greater than hers in theory, but in practice it has little to no power, since it has no ability to accomplish anything. Once, for fun, I calculated how long it would take for the Royal Court to plot a coup to overthrow Celestia. It would take forty years just for them to finish deliberations that would allow them to refer the matter to a committee to consider a coup. Of course, by then too many members of court would have retired or died of old age and the matter would have to be renewed from scratch. Of course, Celestia would hear about the coup long before then. She keeps a close eye on the Royal Court, you know.”
“Oh really?” Beryl asked. She knew that the Ministry was keeping watch on the Royal Court, and the Ministry did work directly for Celestia, but how could this pony know that?
“That’s right,” Silver said, not noticing Beryl’s suddenly guarded attitude, “Did you see a dark gray unicorn sitting in the public area? He’d be hard to miss with that blood-red mane of his.”
In fact, Beryl had taken note of the unicorn. He stood out from the ponies around him as he stared intently down at the nobles, a frown on his muzzle. Despite the shortage of seating in the public viewing area, there were no ponies seated around him. Instead, an aura of gloom seemed to hang around him; though maybe that was because of the way he was dressed. The stallion had been wearing a midnight black suit with a dark and ragged cloak draped over it, the hood over his head allowing only his face to be seen, along with the dark red locks of mane that spilled out of it. Or maybe it had to do with the eye patch over his right eye, a scar clearly visible above and below it.
“That would be Malthus,” Silver said after Beryl nodded, “He’s been Celestia’s closest advisor for—nopony knows how long—at least a hundred years.”
“How is that possible?” Beryl asked. What disturbed her the most, however, was that she’d never even heard of this pony before today. Was he unimportant to the Ministry, or had he somehow managed to escape their attention. Then again, perhaps he’d been overlooked due to his closeness to the princess.
“Nopony knows,” Silver answered, “Some say his family has unusual longevity. Others say he managed to perfect age magic and slowed his aging like Star-Swirl the Bearded did. Still there are others who say he’s a vampire.”
Now Beryl knew that wasn’t true. The Ministry kept very close tabs on all vampires, and there hadn’t been any in Canterlot in over a century. A bell chimed on Silver Shimmer’s desk, and he cast a quick spell on it to stop the noise.
“Looks like Royal Court is reconvening,” he said, rising from his place behind the desk, “I hope I was able to help you.”
“Yes, just one final thing,” Beryl said, rising as well, “Do you think you could arrange for me to meet with Lord Briarheart personally? It’s very important that I speak to him.”
“I’m afraid not,” Silver said, his face transitioning into a scowl, “Lord Briarheart doesn’t like to disturbed for any reason.”
“Of course; I understand,” Beryl said as she trotted out of the office alongside the stallion.
I’ll just have to make an appointment myself , she thought as Silver Shimmer walked away.
***
Beryl returned to the Ministry after that, returning the files that she’d had delivered earlier and passing on a message to look into Malthus. It couldn’t hurt, she decided, and if he was no threat, then her warning would be dismissed. She’d pored through the Briarheart files as much as she could, and had gotten nothing very useful out of them. She spent a few hours looking though the files the Ministry had on the Shimmer family, and also found nothing very interesting, other than that Silver’s sister had once been a personal protégé of Princess Celestia.
As the sun began to set, she departed the Ministry, armed and ready for the task ahead. She was going to get in and see Lord Briarheart even if it required breaking into Rosethorn Hall. Hopefully all the orphans would be in bed, so they wouldn’t alert any of their caretakers to Beryl’s presence, and she could get in and out with nopony but her target seeing her.
When she arrived at Rosethorn Hall, the moon had already risen above the spires of Canterlot, and the manor-house was dark save for a few windows. Beryl jumped the fence, using a spell to assist in her leap, and landed silently within the grounds. Stealthily, she crept around toward the back of the house, hoping to find another way into the mansion.
She jumped back in surprise and darted behind a tree as a shadowy figure unexpectedly rose from the grass. It was pony-shaped at least, but Beryl could think of hundreds of creatures that could mimic a pony’s form. Still, she held out hope that this was Lord Briarheart, and what she had just seen was him emerging from a secret passage out of the mansion (something known to be not uncommon for nobles to have.)
The figure took no notice of Beryl and trotted toward the high wall behind the house. At the exact point she had been thrown back, it stepped through the wall as if it didn’t even exist. After waiting a short amount of time to ensure she wouldn’t crash into her prey, Beryl ran forward to the exact point it had passed though. The wall was unyielding to her, however, and she hit solid stone. Fortunately, she had brought along the proper equipment tonight, and after dipping her hooves in a potion, she was able to easily the scale the wall.
The shadowy figure had gotten a decent lead on her by the time she made it over, and she had to hurry to keep it in sight. It wove through the city toward what seemed like nowhere in particular, and after a while Beryl was tempted to confront it. However, her curiosity at finding out where it was going won out, and she stayed in the shadows at a safe distance.
The creature also seemed to be keeping to the shadows, avoiding any major roads and acting extra cautious when passing by doors or windows. It was as if it didn’t want to be seen, and Beryl could think of plenty of reasons why. One of those reasons was that a certain noble was so secretive that he only went out at night. She was fairly sure in her mind by now that this creature—whatever it was—was Lord Briarheart. What was uncertain was where he was headed.
Beryl eventually found herself in the same part of town that the mangled bodies had been found the two previous nights. Was Lord Briarheart the culprit? Beryl double-checked her crossbow and its bolts, ready to use it to take him down if he turned out to be the killer.
She almost didn’t notice when the figure stopped, hiding behind a corner and peering around it. From her position, she could see down the alley in the direction the creature was looking. A young mare trotted through the dark, all on her own. Beryl drew her crossbow and prepared a bolt to fire; silver just in case Briarheart turned out to be something supernatural.
Out of the corner of her eye, Beryl caught movement. A dark and bulky figure swooped through the air, making a sudden turn and heading down the alleyway. As it dived for the oblivious mare, the figure Beryl had been following leapt into action. It produced a potion and tossed it at the mare. An orange cloud of smoke welled up around her, then constricted in on itself and disappeared. The monster that had been diving for her slammed into the ground, but quickly recovered, spinning around to face the potion’s source.
Now that it was still, Beryl got a better look at the beast. The creature was a bizarre shape, somewhat similar to a diamond dog if it were twisted into a demonic form. The entire creature seemed to be covered in leathery, gray skin, a long spiked tail protruded from its hindquarters, and two bat-like wings sprouted from its back. Its face was most disturbing, with a bat-like nose and ears, tusks growing from its jaw, and beady eyes burning with unholy fire. Long claws extended from its muscled arms and legs, and they whistled through the air as it swiped at the Briarheart-figure.
The pony easily dodged the attack, keeping out of range of the monster. He pulled spikes from straps around his hooves with his mouth, and threw them at the creature. Where they impacted, the flesh burned and smoke trailed up from the holes. The monster let out an ear-splitting squeal as it reeled back, and Beryl momentarily lost control of her magic, dropping her crossbow, but managing to recover it before it clattered against the cobblestones.
“Daybreak, to me!” the pony shouted in a deep voice.
A sword’s hilt materialized with a flash in the air in front of his muzzle, and as he grabbed hold of it in his teeth, the rest of the sword began to appear. It was a beast of a weapon, a greatsword with a blade as long as the body of the pony wielding it. It appeared to have been forged from two metals, with the edges a shining gold, and the spine of the weapon a black-silver. The pony swung the sword around toward the monster like it weighed nothing, skewering it through the heart. However, it seemed to have no effect other than to the make the creature mad.
“An el nomine ai mi maestro Sithis, Ei transposi de en a eterne justicium!” the pony incanted.
The monster began to glow around where the sword had skewered it, and soon its whole body was alight. Demonic screeches rose up from it as it was consumed and vanished. Stone dust rained down from where its body had been, forming a pile on the ground similar to the one Beryl had found at the crime scene the previous day.
“Daybreak, be gone,” the shadowy figure said, and the sword vanished into thin air.
“So, are you going to come out of the shadows now?” the figure said, turning to look directly at where Beryl was hiding.
“You first,” Beryl said, trying to sound assertive. How had he seen her? What was he?
The figure grunted, but complied, and stepped up to the edge of the circle of light cast by a nearby gas lamp. Now that he was in the light, Beryl could get a much better look at him. He was an earth pony stallion—or at least appeared to be one—with a black coat and mane. He wore several mismatched layers of clothing, the innermost one being a mid-Celestian era waistcoat and neck cravat. Over the waistcoat were looped bandoliers of leather pouches, and on top of that was a western duster. A Reneighssance-era assassin’s hood covered most of his head, but Beryl could still make out that he was wearing a set of reflective sunglasses popular with the Wonderbolts’ upper echelon. If he stripped some of his clothing off, he would look exactly like the Lord Briarheart from the 400-year old portrait.
“Now will you come out of the shadows?” the stallion asked impatiently.
“First, what did you do with that mare?” Beryl asked, raising her crossbow to point at the stallion.
“She’s safe,” he assured her in a gravelly voice, “I was able to get here in time tonight. I assume that’s why you were following me?”
“You killed one of those things last night,” Beryl said, looking at the fresh pile of stone dust on the street.
“That’s right,” the stallion confirmed, “Though by the time I reached it, it had already claimed a victim. Now, will you please step out of the shadows and show yourself! ”
Cautiously, Beryl stepped forward until she took was standing in the light of the gas lamp. She allowed her crossbow to drop just a little. The stallion didn’t appear to have any hostile intent toward her, but given how fast he’d killed the creature just a minute earlier she wouldn’t have much time if he turned against her.
“You’re Lord Briarheart?” Beryl asked.
“That’s one name I go by,” the stallion snorted, “I believe you at the Ministry call me the Black Briar.”
“How do you know about the Ministry?” Beryl demanded, suddenly on guard and pointing her crossbow squarely between his eyes.
“That’s not something you need to know right now,” he grumbled, “Maybe some other time, but not now. Tell me, do you know what that thing was I just killed?”
“No,” Beryl answered, not allowing her guard to drop this time.
“Typical. What has the Ministry become?” the Black Briar grumbled, “That was a gargoyle, as was the thing that killed the other two mares. I never expected to see them again, much less two at once. I get the feeling that there’s more out there, and I’ll need the Ministry’s help to track them down.”
“Hey, what makes you think I’ll help you?” Beryl asked, keeping her crossbow trained on the stallion as he started to walk away.
“You had no idea what a gargoyle truly is,” he spoke over his shoulder, “The nightmares you’ve been trained to fight are nothing compared to these terrors. You’re curious how I know, and how I know about the Ministry. Take your pick for the reason, the truth is, I just know you will. Come to Rosethorn Hall when you decide. I’ll let the caretakers know to let you in.”
Beryl lowered her crossbow as Black Briar trotted off, disappearing into the shadows. He’d let her follow him before, she realized. But why; because he needed her help? Who was this pony really?
***
No news of gargoyle attacks greeted Beryl when she returned to the Ministry the following morning. However, there had been a disturbance in the Capital Plaza when a mare had suddenly materialized in a cloud of orange smoke scared out of her wits. Her sleep during the rest of the night had been fitful as she struggled with what had happened. Upon arriving at the Ministry, she went straight to her office and got to work trying to sort things out.
Her searches in the Bestiary for gargoyles returned no results, until she forced it to return absolutely anything pertaining to the creatures. In the end, all she got was a short notice that gargoyles had been retired from the Bestiary after they had been completely destroyed in a Ministry raid over half a millennium ago. Any searches into the archives also returned nothing on gargoyles. It seemed any file about the assumedly extinct creatures had been deemed a waste of space and had been eliminated.
With her searches into gargoyles stuck at a dead end, Beryl looked into the Ministry’s files on the Black Briar. There was considerably more documentation on him. The Black Briar was a catchall term the Ministry used for any rogue monster hunter with unknown identity, and there had been many over the years. However, Beryl sensed from the descriptions that it was highly possible all were the same character, even though incidents were often decades apart. Records on the Black Briar stretched back almost 200 years, which meant that if it truly was one pony, he had incredible longevity like Malthus.
The descriptions also convinced her that the Lord Briarheart she had met the night before was indeed the same pony. The Black Briar was always said to be a figure cloaked in black—though just what uniform he was cloaked in changed subtly over the years—sometimes seen with an otherworldly sword, sometimes not. If Lord Briarheart was indeed the Black Briar, it meant he was extremely old, which also explained the striking similarity between the current Lord Briarheart and the one from the 400-year old portrait. They were the same pony.
The Black Briar seemed to know what was going on, and Beryl wanted to speak to him again about this gargoyle threat that the Ministry seemed to know nothing about. On the other hoof, the last thing she wanted to do was to confirm his prediction that she’d come to him. He’d said he needed the Ministry’s help, yet he hadn’t told her how. It seemed she had no choice but to pay him a visit. After she’d put it off as long as she could, she left the Ministry for Rosethorn Hall.
A different mare answered the door this time, and though she seemed suspicious, she did lead Beryl to Lord Briarheart’s quarters. He lived in the basement of the house, the entrance to his room a simple wooden door with a mailbox fastened to the wall next to it. Bits of paper still clung to nails pounded into the door to hold the noble’s messages for the orphanage caretakers. Giving a push, Beryl found the door swung in easily. As she stepped through the doorway, she saw that a multitude of locks both mundane and magical were fastened to the door’s back, though they’d all been disabled to allow her to pass.
The room was small and poorly lit, and Beryl used the light from her horn to navigate to the far end of the room, where another door awaited her. This door was far more ornate, with complex patterns carved into the frame. No doubt they served some magical protective purpose. Who was the Black Briar, that he knew magic so obscure and powerful? This door too swung open easily, and Beryl stepped through, her tail sweeping through the line of dust that had somehow managed to form just inside the door.
She found herself standing in a well furnished room. Furniture from all time periods was scattered about the chamber, gas lamps lined the walls above glass cases displaying ancient weapons, but the Black Briar was nowhere to be found. Several doors around the room led deeper into the lair, and the stallion was most likely to be found behind one of them, but Beryl wanted a few minutes to look around before speaking to him. Most likely she was the first pony besides Lord Briarheart to set hoof in these chambers in centuries. Her horn buzzed with the magical energy she detected all around her, somehow familiar and unfathomable at the same time. Upon a table in the center of the room sat a large crystal ball with an incredibly detailed model of Canterlot within. She trotted up to get a better look.
“Don’t touch that,” a gravelly voice commanded, causing Beryl to whip he head around at the sound’s source.
The Black Briar was standing near one of the doors that led out of the room, and he shut and locked it before trotting toward Beryl. He was wearing only his waistcoat, cravat, and aviator sunglasses today, and his mane was pulled back into a messy ponytail. Without his full getup, he looked even more incredibly like the Lord Briarheart from the portrait, further reinforcing Beryl’s suspicions that they were the same pony.
“I wasn’t going to touch it,” Beryl said defensively, “I’m not a foal.”
The stallion harrumphed in response and motioned for Beryl to take a seat. She complied; choosing a chair after the Black Briar had taken one himself. Beryl waited for the stallion to say something, but he simply sat patiently, waiting for Beryl to make the first move.
“So, you came,” he said at last when Beryl wasn’t forthcoming with anything.
“Yes, because I’ve got some questions for you,” she replied, “First off, who are you really?”
“I told you; I’m the Black Briar.”
“But how do you know about the Ministry?” Beryl asked, “Who told you?”
“Nopony told me,” the Black Briar grumbled, “I helped found it.”
“You what?” Beryl asked incredulously.
“You heard me. In the time after Nightmare Moon’s disappearance, Equestria experienced a sudden explosion of evil creatures, partially due to Princess Luna no longer holding them back, partially due to Celestia’s broken heart shattering the world’s harmony. In any case, the world became filled with monsters. I was already working to fight them when Celestia came to me with her idea of creating a Ministry to combat them on a larger scale,” the stallion narrated, “I went along with her plan, training the first few generations of recruits and working to hold evil at bay. I passed on all the knowledge I had on these supernatural threats to the Ministry in the time I worked there.”
“But that’s not possible,” Beryl objected, “The Ministry was founded by the Seven Knights of Dawn. Besides, that was nearly a millennium ago.”
“Do you really find it that hard to believe?” the Black Briar asked, cocking an eyebrow, “I saw from the first moment you trotted in here that you suspect I’m far older than I look. What’s a millennium to me? I’ve already lived through five of them.”
“So, the Briarheart family?” Beryl asked.
“That’s right. It was always only me,” he confirmed what Beryl had suspected, “Of course, sometimes ponies got suspicious, so I had to conjure up a wife or heir to maintain the legitimacy of my house.”
“And this mansion was just another way for you to create the impression that you were part of a noble family and not just one pony,” Beryl said, and the Black Briar nodded, “What I don’t understand is why it’s an orphanage now, though. Doesn’t that defeat the purpose?”
“Mortals are so short-sighted,” the pitch-black stallion grumbled, “This whole area of Canterlot used to be beautiful parks and manor-houses. Now it’s all shopping malls and restaurants and hotels. That’s why I donated this house to the cause of raising orphans two centuries ago. Convincing a noble to move into a larger estate is easy to do, tearing down an orphanage and throwing parentless foals out into the cold is not.”
It certainly made sense, as did everything the Black Briar had told her. He was obviously an expert in his field, but that didn’t mean she trusted him yet. Independent monster hunters were severely discouraged by the Ministry, mainly because they tended to do more harm than good, or to spread panic by speaking the truth about the nightmares waiting in the dark. This stallion seemed different though, and he claimed to have once been a member of the Ministry—though his story of being a founder certainly didn’t agree with official Ministry history or the Legend of the Seven Knights of Dawn.
“So, gargoyles,” Beryl began to pose the question that had led her to meet this stallion in the first place, “There was nothing in the Ministry’s Bestiary; every file had been removed. What are they?”
“Some of the nastier creatures in this universe,” the Black Briar answered, “A gargoyle is, in reality, an extremely powerful and malicious spirit. However, in this form they are unable to physically interact with the world. The only way they can achieve physical form is if a very specific vessel for them is crafted out of stone; a statue looking exactly like what you saw last night. A mortal creates the vessel, and then the gargoyle inhabits it and can bring it to life during the night, transforming it from dead stone to living flesh.”
“Gargoyles have an insatiable appetite for pony life. That is, the possibility that is an equine’s life. That is why each victim they claimed was a young adult. They have grown to an appropriate size that the gargoyle is able to harvest them, but they still have so much life ahead of them. The gargoyle, upon catching its prey, tears it open and sucks out the life of the victim; it is fed by all the years that could have been .”
“Okay,” Beryl said, “I think I understand now why you needed my help. You said you fear there are more gargoyles still out there. With the Ministry’s resources at my disposal, I can find the statues and destroy them.”
“No,” the Black Briar said, cutting Beryl off with a wave of his hoof, “You must not shatter a gargoyle’s statue. The only time they are vulnerable is when they take on physical form at night to hunt.”
“But how can they take physical form if their statue is destroyed?”
“A gargoyle’s statue allows it to pass into the physical realm,” the stallion explained, “If that statue is shattered, the gargoyle is freed from its vessel, and is able to manifest in its true form in this world. If that happens, it is nearly impossible to kill it. You would be facing a monster with nearly infinite power and the intent to drain the life of everypony in the world. Whatever you do, do not allow a gargoyle’s statue to be broken.”
“However, you were partially correct,” he continued, “Tracking down the gargoyles on my own isn’t impossible, but it would take time; time that I sadly don’t have. Who knows how many ponies would fall prey to these monsters before I can kill them. It’s not like gargoyle statues can be created easily, and they must be positioned in a prominent place before a gargoyle could enter them. Look for new buildings or statues that were recently added to buildings. That’s all the time I have to talk right now. Night will have fallen by now and . . .”
The Black Briar’s ears twitched and his nostrils flared as he stopped talking.
“No; it can’t be. Did you break the line across the doorway?” he asked Beryl frantically.
“What are you talking about?” she asked, worried what had caused the stallion such alarm.
“Do they not even teach you about protective barriers in the Ministry anymore?” he asked angrily as he hopped over a couch.
Beryl felt a sudden pressure in her head, and the room heated up rapidly. A burst of light flashed at the doorway she had earlier come in through, and the pressure and heat decreased. When she looked up, a gargoyle was standing at the door, baring its long pointed teeth. On instinct, she drew her crossbow and quickly slotted a bolt into place.
“Get back!” the Black Briar ordered as he smashed one of his display cases and pulled out the sword within, “Your crossbow won’t hurt it!”
Still, she had to try, and fired a bolt directly at its head. The gargoyle swatted it aside with a massive claw, but Beryl already had another ready, this time an incendiary. The gargoyle had no chance of blocking it, and the bolt struck it between the eyes, fire expanding out from where it impacted to engulf the monster’s head. It didn’t take long, however, before the fire went out, leaving only trails of smoke behind. The gargoyle appeared to be completely unharmed, and Beryl holstered her crossbow, conjuring up a sword of pure magic to take its place.
She took a few slashes at the beast, missing, but also managing to dodge its claws. Finally she got a swipe in and sliced through the tough flesh of its forearm. Steam boiled out from the wound and the gargoyle shrieked, the ear-splitting squeal causing Beryl to lose her concentration, her magical sword disappearing.
The Black Briar charged toward the gargoyle, a sword in his teeth that appeared to be made of pure sapphire. A trail of shimmering lights followed the blade as he threw it through the air at the gargoyle. The monster reached out to swat the sword away, but it impacted point first into the palm of its claw, sinking up to the hilt. Fracturing lines of blue light spread up the gargoyle’s arm, glowing violently. In a flash, the gargoyle vanished and the sword clattered to the floor.
“Another one,” Beryl said, staring at where the monster had been a moment earlier, “Is it dead?”
“Hardly,” the Black Briar said as he grabbed a bag by the door and began to pour the sandy contents out into a line across the doorway, “I merely banished it from the area. I couldn’t risk trying to kill it; not here.”
“Why not?” Beryl asked, “Now it’s free out there.”
“Well, for one thing, it could have ill effects on the orphans sleeping above our heads,” the stallion replied, “And there are other reasons I can’t trust you with yet.”
“We can’t let it get away,” Beryl insisted, “I won’t let it take another victim.”
“Of course not, but after the strikes we got in on it, it’s in no condition to hunt yet tonight,” the Black Briar said as he trotted toward the door he’d come in through, “It’s most likely limping back home, which means we can track it to the nest.”
“You planned this?” Beryl asked as the Black Briar disappeared through the doorway.
“Yes, though I didn’t plan for it to show up here,” he said as he reemerged dressed in the full uniform he’d been wearing the night before, “Does the Ministry no longer emphasize the importance of guarding weak points, such as doors and windows?”
“They do, but I had no idea that . . . dust was a ward,” Beryl said, and joined the Black Briar as he motioned for her to follow him through a different door, “What was that stuff?”
“A mixture designed to keep evil creatures from passing, or from using magic to cross. There are many ingredients, including salt and the sands of Atmora. The gargoyle must have followed your trail and used the weak spot to teleport in from outside Rosethorn Hall’s grounds.”
While they’d been talking, the Black Briar had led them to a wall with a simple stone archway filled with bare earth. Runes were carved into the stones of the archway and they began to glow as the Black Briar placed his hooves on them. When he had finished, the earth shifted and shimmered, appearing more mist-like than solid. He stepped directly into the earth, and Beryl followed. The soil seemed to flow, pushing them on a course through the ground, and eventually up to where Beryl had seen the stallion emerge in the yard the night before.
“Passeaux,” the Black Briar whispered as he reached the towering stone wall behind the property, and stepped right through. Hesitant, Beryl followed, and found it was like walking through nothing at all.
“Excellent; the trail’s still fresh, and it’s wounded, which should make this easier,” the Black Briar said as he surveyed the empty street.
Using her magic, Beryl picked up the trail as well. But the Black Briar was an earth pony. How had he sensed the monster’s trail?
“I can sense magic,” he answered when she asked him, “Part of the package that came with my immortality.”
That’s right. In the excitement, she had forgotten how unbelievably ancient this stallion had claimed to be. Was he even a pony anymore? She wasn’t sure, and would have to be careful. Just because he seemed to be a good pony and excellent monster hunter didn’t change the fact that he was a rogue agent and a monster in his own right. More than likely, she would need to turn him in to the Ministry when this business was over, but for now she needed him to help hunt down the gargoyles, so she would have to stay on good terms with him at the present.
The two of them took off through the silent streets of late night Canterlot, following the path the gargoyle had taken as it fled Rosethorn Hall. The magical trail faded for more quickly than it should have, and the Black Briar explained that as a mechanism to avoid detection a gargoyle could shed its magical power, leaving it vulnerable but also throwing off anything following its trail. The trail eventually disappeared entirely as they neared Sorcery Street, the magic trail overwhelmed by the magic given off by the various magic shops that filled the area.
“They’re clever; I’ll give them that. It knew it could lose us here,” the Black Briar grumbled as he watched ponies milling about on Sorcery Street from the shadows, “Still, it must have been desperate to pass by so close to ponies, especially ones with magical ability. Its nest must be near here.”
“I’m returning to Rosethorn Hall,” he announced as he turned to face Beryl, “I need you to find out where the nest is and let me know. I’ll take things from there.”
“No way,” Beryl objected, causing the Black Briar to halt as he walked away, “This is a Ministry investigation, and a Ministry agent needs to be there.”
“Very well,” the Black Briar snorted, “But let me know in either case. I doubt today’s Ministry could handle a threat like this on their own.”
Beryl watched as the stallion disappeared into the shadows.
***
The next day she returned to the Ministry, keeping an eye on the time. She had to find where these gargoyles were coming from before nightfall; lives were counting on it. She began by checking the recent surveys of magical energy in the area of Canterlot where they had lost the trail the night before. Problem was, Sorcery Street ran right through the middle of it, and made it hard to tell if any fluctuations in magical energy were the result of something sinister or a new shipment of enchanted items.
Next, she checked all the reports that the Ministry had made regarding the area in the past few months, but nothing related to the gargoyles had been reported. Not that she was surprised, since she had never even heard of gargoyles as actual living, breathing monsters before the Black Briar had told her about them. No doubt the agents who’d done the reports hadn’t known what to look for either.
Having exhausted her options at the Ministry, she headed over to the Canterlot Public Records Office. Manually, she went through every edition of each of Canterlot’s three newspapers, working back in time. Finally, she struck gold. About a month earlier, the Canterlot Courier had published an article on a new skyscraper that was nearing completion in the area Beryl was searching. It even had a photo of a worker placing the final touches on the spire. In the corner of the picture, she caught a glimpse of a gargoyle statue. Doing some digging through the archives, she found another picture of the tower, and this time she could make out gargoyles positioned at the top of the tower facing each of the cardinal directions.
After making a trip out to see the skyscraper in person, and spotting that now only two gargoyles remained, Beryl brought the news to the Black Briar. The gargoyles couldn’t be killed until nightfall, so he told her to meet him at the skyscraper then. While she waited, Beryl got her gear together in preparation for the fight. Her crossbow hadn’t done much good the night before, but with the right rounds it could still be used to create a distraction that would let the Black Briar take down the gargoyle with that sword of his. She also packed some powerful potions that she hoped would have some effect on the gargoyles. By the time Celestia’s sun dipped toward the horizon, she was ready for a fight.
She arrived at the skyscraper as the last rays of sunlight vanished, and the Black Briar appeared from the shadows to meet her. Drawing out a set of high-powered binoculars, Beryl kept watch on the gargoyles above, waiting for them to stir. As the night hours dragged on, and the moon rose over Canterlot Mountain, the nearer gargoyle finally began to twitch. With a last jerk, it broke free of its stone for the night, shedding it like a scaly layer of skin.
The creature looked around for a moment, searching for prey, until it caught wind of the ponies that had wounded it the night before. Growling, the gargoyle began to descend down the side of the building, leaping from the wall shortly before it reached the ground. The Black Briar let loose with a flurry of spikes, and Beryl blasted it with a spell that successfully caused its wings to stiffen up.
The gargoyle fell from the sky, but quickly recovered, and swung its tail around at the Black Briar’s head. The stallion ducked down, drawing potions from his bandoliers as he did so. The phials rolled across the ground until they reached the gargoyle’s claws and burst open, coating the monster’s feet in sticky green goo that quickly hardened.
“Daybreak, to me!” the Black Briar shouted, and his massive sword appeared before him.
The gargoyle screeched in reply, the sound waves slamming into the Black Briar and Beryl. Neither flinched away from the attack, though the Black Briar’s duster flapped in the wind generated. Beryl had had the foresight to cast a spell to protect her hearing before heading out, and she assumed the Black Briar had either done something similar or was immune due to his immortality.
He rushed forward when the sound ended and dodged the gargoyle’s claws as it swiped at him. His giant sword came up and down twice, slicing clean through the gargoyle’s arms and leaving it with only stumps. The monster was unable to stop him as he stabbed the blade clean through its heart.
“An el nomine ai mi maestro Sithis, Ei transposi de en a eterne justicium!” the Black Briar incanted, and this gargoyle turned to dust like its two fellows.
“Daybreak, be gone,” he said when the dust settled, and his sword disappeared.
“What’s the status on the other one?” the Black Briar asked, turning to Beryl.
“It’s still,” she said, her binoculars already raised to her eyes, “No, wait; it’s moving.”
The Black Briar frowned as he stared up at the last remaining statue. Raising a hoof to his face, he pulled his sunglasses down his nose, exposing his eyes. Beryl lost her concentration as she spotted the glowing red orbs swirling with fire. If there was any doubt in her mind before that the Black Briar might not be a pony anymore, it was gone now. There was no pony that had such demonic eyes. They grew wide as he stared at the top of the building.
“No!” he exclaimed just before the statue of the gargoyle toppled from the roof.
It seemed to fall in slow motion as it plummeted from the skyscraper’s peak. The statue hit the ground with a sickening crunch, shattering to pieces. Beryl suddenly felt a dark presence pressing against her mind and magic as the shattered gargoyle statue began to glow. Beams of purplish light arced up into the sky, finally congealing into a single, massive figure.
It looked very much like the gargoyles that had attacked earlier, except that it was many times their size, its wings stretching out to touch the buildings on either side of the street. The creature seemed to have no physical form, but was rather composed of a constantly shifting mass of energy resembling the night sky, complete with winking stars and spinning galaxies.
“Behold, the gargoyle’s true form,” the Black Briar said.
The gargoyle let out a roar, directing all of its energy at the Black Briar and Beryl. The street around them shattered and crumbled, and they were thrown backward, the Black Briar’s hood whipping back away from his head.
“What do we do?” Beryl demanded.
“There’s no stopping it now. Look, you can see it draining the life from its surroundings,” the dark stallion said as trails of energy began to stream toward the gargoyle’s gaping maw, “We have to trap it before it consumes all of Canterlot.”
“I brought these just in case,” he continued, pulling boxes of crystal edged with silver from his bandoliers, “But this gargoyle is far stronger than I expected it to be. I need you to do something.”
“Anything,” Beryl replied quickly, watching as the gargoyle pulsed and grew as it drained the life from its surroundings, including herself and the Black Briar.
“You know teleportation magic?”
“Yes!”
“Can you do it with fetishes?” the Black Briar asked, producing two runed stones.
“Yes, I can!” Beryl answered, glad that she had taken the time to perfect the art. It was an obscure branch of teleportation magic, but incredibly useful. Ordinary teleportation was hard enough, and it was severely limited by the magical ability of the pony using it. It could only be performed if the caster had a crystal-clear image of their target in their mind, and then was further limited by the fact that the magical energy required increased geometrically as distance to the target increased. Using magical fetishes was a shortcut that allowed a magic-user to travel easily to any predetermined point. A rune was inscribed on a stone at the location one wished to travel to along with a powerful spell that bound the stone to the location. A caster could then use the fetish to instantly travel to the point it was bound to, without needing a clear image. It was incredibly useful, but rarely used because it required a unicorn with highly advanced magical abilities to use.
“This one will take you to my rooms beneath Rosethorn Hall,” the Black Briar explained, passing one of the fetishes to her, “This will return you to me. I need you to get the model of Canterlot as fast as you can.”
“I’m on it,” Beryl said, and teleported away.
The Black Briar turned to face the massive gargoyle, only growing larger from the energy it was consuming. Thankfully nopony was in this immediate area at this time of night, but Sorcery Street was only a few blocks away, and was no doubt where the bulk of the energy was coming from. Mumbling an incantation under his breath, the stallion cut off the stream between himself and the gargoyle merely to keep his stamina from being drained; after all, he couldn’t die.
Finding an optimal position, he set one of the crystal cubes on the pavement. With a quick incantation, he activated the star tether, and a massive golden chain burst forth in a blast of light. The cruelly barbed hook at the end of chain pulled itself through the air, seeking out its target. The gargoyle was unaware of the tether’s existence until the hook smashed into its shoulder, sinking in and holding.
It gave a roar and tried to yank free, but it was no use; not even it had the power to dislodge a star tether so quickly. While it wasted time trying to dislodge itself, the Black Briar snuck around behind the beast and deployed another star tether, this one smashing into the small of the monster’s back.
The gargoyle swung its tail around, the starry appendage smashing through buildings, tearing up the street, and toppling streetlamps. The Black Briar dodged as best he could, but it was difficult to get out of the way of such a huge weapon, and he was forced to summon Daybreak. He held the sword in front of him, using it to block the tail as it tried to plow into him. Sparks flew from where the sword and tail met, shooting stars arcing out in all directions, but neither side was able to get the upper hoof. The gargoyle raised its tail up into the air, preparing to flatten the Black Briar. As it brought it down, the stallion deployed another sky tether, this one snagging the beast’s tail and pulling it off course.
The Black Briar put Daybreak away and galloped under the gargoyle, dropping slips of paper as he went. Once he was a safe distance away, he spoke an incantation that caused the sigils pre-drawn on the papers to activate, sending flame and lightning rocketing up into the gargoyle’s underside. Unfortunately, the creature didn’t fall for the distraction, and swung a bulging arm around at the Black Briar, otherworldly claws gouging ruts in the road. Before the claw could reach him, the stallion deployed the final sky tether, its hook slamming into the gargoyle’s arm.
Now that all four tethers were deployed, the runes covering the chains began to glow, binding the beast and holding it in place. It struggled against the chains, but they began to retract, pulling ever tighter. The gargoyle roared and pulled harder, and one of the crystal boxes shifted a hair, coming loose from the immense power pulling at it.
In a flash of light, Beryl returned with the crystal ball Canterlot.
“Where do you need this?” she asked, before staring in awe at the bound beast before her.
“Keep levitating it right where you are,” the stallion replied after casting the spell that would stop the gargoyle from draining Beryl’s life.
From one of his bandoliers, the Black Briar produced a marker and began to draw glowing runes on the crystal ball. After he finished, he began to touch them in sequence, chanting a spell as he did so and causing the runes to appear in the sky over Canterlot. As he finished, a magic circle appeared over the crystal ball and over the gargoyle.
Swiftly, he thrust his hoof into the circle and took control of the magic. Lightning rained down from the heavens, striking the gargoyle and causing its starry flesh to glow and crack. It began to shrink in size, but the star tether chains remained taut, adjusting as their prisoner was compressed. In a final whirlwind of light and magic, the gargoyle disappeared and the star tethers retracted back into their crystal boxes. The Black Briar breathed a sigh of relief as the dust settled.
“So, is that it?” Beryl asked, “Is it dead?”
“Sadly, no,” the Black Briar said, trotting over to where the gargoyle had been, “It cannot be killed by any method in this world, only contained.”
He pried up the chunk of stone the gargoyle had been standing over, revealing to Beryl that a magical rune was now imprinted on it.
“This is the gargoyle’s prison,” he said, “And now it is my duty to watch over it until it can be destroyed.”
Beryl set down the model of Canterlot and trotted over to sit next to the Black Briar. Both ponies enjoyed a moment of silence now that the madness was over.
“It’s going to be difficult to explain all this damage,” Beryl said, looking around at the destruction caused by the battle.
“I’m sure it’s nothing your Ministry can’t handle,” the Black Briar said, before looking up at the mare next to him, “You’re a good agent. If your Ministry can produce a pony of your skill, I guess it must not be all bad. Still, if you want to become better, come to me and I will train you.”
Beryl was torn; technically the Black Briar was a rogue agent that had to be turned in to the Ministry. Still, he had just saved Canterlot using techniques she’d never learned at the Ministry. She decided that she’d need to know more about him before she could fully trust him, but for now she let her heart decide.
“Of course,” she replied.
“By the way, I never got your name,” the stallion said.
“It’s Agent Beryl Fields, but some ponies call me Berry,” she replied.
“Berry,” he said contemplatively, “You seem like a trustworthy pony, and if we’ll be working together we should start out our relationship with some honesty. My name—my true name—is Shadowmere.”
***
Within Canterlot Castle, there is a tower that nopony has set hoof in since its construction. Its official name is the Moon Tower, but the castle staff has taken to calling it the Empty Tower. If anypony were to explore the Empty Tower, they would find that it is most unlike the rest of Canterlot Castle. Instead of the white and gold celebrating the power of the sun, the Empty Tower is decorated with blacks and blues, and the walls and ceilings are covered with constellations of the night sky. Ringing the tower’s spire there are many statues, originally carved nearly a millennium earlier in the likenesses of ponies, dragons, and monsters. However, two of the statues on this particular night were not as they seemed.
“The gargoyles failed,” one shadowy figure, a pony with bat wings whispered out into the night, “What’s more, the Ministry and the Deathwalker have become involved.”
“Did one obtain true form?” the other, a figure with almost identical features, asked.
“Yes, but the Deathwalker managed to trap it.”
“Excellent; everything is going according to plan.”
“The pieces are falling into place,” the second figure continued, tilting its head to stare up at the moon, “The time of Her return will soon be upon us; we must be ready to act when the stars align.”
“Of course,” the first figure answered.
The two bat-ponies stayed, unmoving, for several hours, until they flew off into the night in different directions. Nopony saw them depart from the Moon Tower; after all, nopony lived there, so what would there be to see should one look up? The pony those chambers had been built for had been gone for nearly one thousand years.
Author's Note
I hope you enjoyed the first installment in this new series!
Unlike some of my other stories, with this one I intend to release each chapter very shortly after they are finished. However, there will be no set time between chapters; I'll be writing whenever I feel inspired. Each chapter will be much longer than chapters of my previous stories; about the same length as this one or longer, and will be mostly self-contained stories (to begin with at least) with a larger storyline tying them together.
Like all my stories, if you have anything to say about it, feel free to leave a comment or message me.
Celestia couldn’t remember much. Her mind was fuzzy and her vision blurry. There was something … she was supposed to be doing. Raise the sun? No, that couldn’t be right, could it? Wait, she was supposed to raise the sun, but after over a thousand years of doing so, she could practically do it in her sleep. It was something else, something related…
It must not have been urgent. The time hadn’t come to raise the sun yet, anyway; the moon was still casting light through her window. She thought she’d had the curtains drawn. In fact, she was sure she’d done it for some specific reason. Did she need to get up early in the morning? Perhaps she should close the curtains…
Except… her magic didn’t change anything when she reached out. She tried to focus her vision, and grew increasingly frustrated the longer she tried. Eventually, the blue blob became a distant blue glow, with more distinct shapes nearer, some emanating glows of their own. Even the solid shapes had soft edges to them still, and refused to become any clearer. Though she tried to move her head to get another perspective, she found that she couldn’t. That probably would have alarmed her normally, but she couldn't imagine why…
There were figures moving around her, and she could make out some details of those closer to her. They were definitely pony-shaped, though something seemed like it was off about the wings on one. Perhaps it was just her vision betraying her, or some combination of that and the armor the individual seemed to be wearing. The other was closer, and she could make out more details on her, even identifying the individual. It was Thistleback, Director of her Ministry. Right, Thistleback had requested to meet with her about an urgent concern. That must be what this was about, but why was she immobilized? It was hard to focus again. Maybe she should just trust that Thistleback had things in hoof…
Darkest Shadows
“That’s a heavy accusation to level,” Beryl addressed Malthus confrontationally. “Do you have any proof to back it up?”
“Proof?” Malthus snorted. “None beyond what I’ve already told you. She’s too careful for that, obviously, if she was able to find her way to headship of the Ministry without being discovered for years. Celestia’s disappearance, now, in the manner it occurred, is proof enough. I had thought that she was working with Shadowmere, given that I’d been imprisoned in one of your tesseracts,” Malthus said, looking to the other immortal, who dismissed Daybreak now that they were no longer trying to kill each other, “But it seems she was working alone, or else with others who serve Nightmare Moon. They managed to steal artifacts from you, then?”
“Yes,” Shadowmere begrudgingly admitted, “They took anything that could find them, and other relics to obscure themselves. They took the Eye of Larghast as well.”
“If I had the Eye, do you think I would have refrained from using it in our duel?” Malthus asked, his lips curling into a snarl. “Not that it would have been much of a duel then.”
“I don’t know what history the two of you have,” Beryl interjected before Shadowmere could make a reply and set the two of them beheading each other again, “But clearly Thistleback, or whoever is behind this, knew about it and counted on pitting the two of you off against each other. If we want to deal with them and recover Celestia, we can’t be at each other’s throats.”
“I suppose you are correct, though I did not bear any ill will against you prior to this, Malthus,” Shadowmere said as he composed himself, though his last statement seemed to have the opposite effect on Malthus, whose brow furrowed angrily. “I do wish to know how they unsealed the Perpendicularity Gate, though.”
“I have… lost time these past few months,” Malthus admitted, taking a deep breath to calm himself. “My mind may have been compromised. In truth, I first thought it was my memory failing due to the decay of extreme age; then that it was you, seeking to break my barriers in preparation of my imprisonment. Now I see they must have been delving my memories, seeking how to access your lair in a way that would point to me.”
“Could… could Thistleback also be a diversion?” Beryl asked, hoping it was true, and the two immortals looked at her skeptically. “What if this is another instance of pointing ponies with the power to save Celestia against each other, delaying us from reaching her?”
“Berry is correct,” Shadowmere admitted, though Malthus harrumphed. “We must be certain, or at least have stronger evidence that Thistleback is the culprit, lest we waste more time. Attempting to locate her in a manner even the Ministry Director would not have the knowledge to ward against should be evidence enough. We will need to return to Canterlot for that, unless you’ve brought sufficient supplies with you?”
“I have not. My purpose here was to hunt you ,” Malthus replied, before trotting over and retrieving his ragged cloak. “I can have us in Canterlot in minutes. Where is your lair?”
“My home has been compromised,” Shadowmere countered, “And your quarters in Canterlot Castle will not do. Beryl’s apartment will serve us best.”
“Of course,” Malthus chuckled dryly as he pulled the cloak over his form and refastened it. “Still no trust. Well then, Ministry Agent, what is the address?”
“805 Dewdrop Lane, Apartment 56B,” Beryl Fields supplied the requested information.
Malthus rubbed his chin with a hoof and his eyes took on a thoughtful look for a few minutes.
“Okay, this way,” he said, tromping off through the sand in the direction of the nearest beach house.
This house, like the one Shadowmere and Berry had emerged from, was vacant, and Malthus kicked in the front door. His horn lit up, providing a red glow to illuminate the darkened vacation home as he led the way. He paused when he came to a bathroom and shut the door with the trio still standing outside.
“Maintain a link with me until we’ve all passed completely through each door,” he commanded, and Beryl reached forward and placed a hoof on his cloaked back.
Giving a nod, Malthus reached for the door handle with his magic, which began to glow white, and turned it. As the door swung open, it revealed on the other side not the quaint bathroom they had glimpsed before, with its tropical theming, but the skyline of Trottingham. Malthus led the way through, Berry and Shadowmere trailing behind as they stepped out onto the balcony surrounding the top of a high tower. As soon as the door shut, they headed back through it, Malthus’s magic glowing red again, and they entered the tower. A staircase spiraled downward until they reached the exit at the bottom, where Malthus used his white magic.
They passed through onto the street of a desert town. As they trotted down the line of shops, they could hear cries of panic in the distance, order breaking down the longer the unnatural night dragged on. Through another shop’s front door, Malthus led them into a hotel hallway, down a floor, and through another room’s door to Manehattan’s central square. Here police were trying to corral ponies who had come to observe the summer solstice out of the area. Malthus kept them moving, crossing the square and stepping through another door.
The pattern continued as they jaunted around the world, never spending more than a minute or two in each location. They passed through empty streets, buzzing hospitals, panicky crowds, abandoned monuments, and scattered houses. Anywhere that had a door, they could move through. They even passed through Canterlot once, but Malthus didn’t turn aside, and the answer why eventually became clear. Even bouncing across the four corners of the planet, they still emerged from the door across from Berry’s apartment quicker than it would have taken to walk here.
Berry could feel Malthus’s eyes roving over the invisible wards protecting her front door as she produced a key and undid the entirely mundane lock. Within was not much to look at; Berry hadn’t done much to adorn her home and had become accustomed to a fairly spartan lifestyle. Anything she needed for her work and now for her double life of hunting monsters with Shadowmere, she kept out of sight of the front door. Leading the others into the shared kitchen/dining/living space, Beryl trotted over to a closet and retrieved a stash of magical materials kept on the top shelf.
Combined with some items from the kitchen, and others she kept in her bedroom, they were able to perform several rituals that should have been able to locate Thistleback. However, as with Celestia, they were unsuccessful. In fact, in the methods that were the same, they were unsuccessful in the exact same way. Beryl still didn’t want to believe it, but it seemed the Director of the Ministry truly was the traitor who had seized Celestia to pave the way for Nightmare Moon. They were near each other, it seemed, if they were being hidden by the same artifacts stolen from Shadowmere’s hideout. But how to find where they were?
***
Beryl Fields, dressed again in her Ministry uniform, approached the entrance to her official workplace. As she did so, several uniformed pegasi flew out of the mountain’s face, more agents headed off on urgent business. Though the Ministry had been compromised with Thistleback’s betrayal, Shadowmere and Malthus had both agreed it was the best resource they had on hoof that could help them locate Celestia and the director. Shadowmere had an extensive relic collection, and though they hadn’t seen it in his quarters, Malthus mentioned a collection of his own that had also been pilfered to prevent tracking down the missing princess. However, the two immortals hadn’t gathered every powerful magical relic in Equestria. The Ministry had gathered many dangerous and powerful artifacts in its millennium of operation, and Shadowmere and Malthus had identified a hooffull that could overcome whatever was hiding Celestia and Thistleback. If the director had been as thorough here as she had with their stashes, they would likely be missing, but they felt there was a chance that some had slipped under her notice because their locating abilities were unknown to the Ministry. So, that was where Beryl would look.
“Berry, you made it!” a security mare greeted her excitedly as she trotted into the Ministry’s entrance.
“I did, finally,” Beryl replied. The runed slate meant to summon her to the Ministry in case of emergency had been destroyed by Auzischell while she and Shadowmere had slumbered, but the emergency had been great enough that the Ministry had called and left several messages (coded, of course) on the phone in her apartment when she’d failed to respond to the summons.
“We could sure use your help,” the mare said as she glanced in the direction of the exit where her companion was now raising a shield, recalling the pegasus agents’ hasty departure. The security mare hastily lowered her own shield, granting Berry access and urging her to continue without further delay.
The atrium was in a complete frenzy when Beryl entered. Agents, normally composed, darted around wildly, trading reports, levitating multiple crystal balls, or shouting into speaking stones. The massive notice boards on the far wall told an alarming story. The monthly incident count was over a thousand, and the other board, intended for rotating notices, had been taken over entirely by an urgent announcement with the heading:
‘SELENE’ CRISIS ONGOING
What followed was a brief description of what was known, primarily that Celestia had vanished and that the moon remained in the night sky despite the fact that it was approaching midday, but strangely no mention of Nightmare Moon. The description also mentioned a “monster surge,” which wasn’t difficult to figure out the meaning of; the list of open incidents that scrolled at the bottom of the board, along with the total count, a number in the hundreds and rising.
“Agent Beryl Fields!” an agent with a clerical pin on his uniform pocket called out as Beryl tried to make her way through the chaos, “Take these cases!”
“Sorry, I’m on special orders from the deputy director,” she lied as she avoided the files the agent pulled from his stack of reports and levitated her way.
Beryl quickened her pace on her way to her office, trying to avoid being waylaid by any other agents who would attempt to rope her into dealing with the ongoing crisis. Well… she was dealing with the ongoing crisis, but not on official Ministry business, and she didn’t need any other agents getting in the way. When she reached her office, she used the crystal on her desk to search the Ministry’s records for the relics Malthus and Shadowmere had mentioned. She would still have to falsify the authorization to remove them from the Artifact Repository, but first she needed to verify that they were here. She wasn’t terribly surprised to find that none of the artifacts were found by her searches. If there was anything she’d learned over the past year, however, it was that that didn’t necessarily mean they weren’t at the Ministry. Maybe they truly weren’t, but maybe they were kept somewhere secret, some analogue to the Deep Archives. That would be difficult to locate, but perhaps with Director Thistleback absent, there was a way she could—
“Agent Beryl Fields!” Siren’s Song exclaimed as he entered her office unannounced. “What do you think you’re doing here in your office , claiming to be on ‘special orders’ from me, rather than assisting the Ministry! As if I didn’t have enough headaches to deal with at the moment!”
Beryl realized she wouldn’t have much time to come up with an excuse or explain herself. It occurred to her that Deputy Director Siren’s Song might be able to help her, but could she trust him? Some of the same worries Malthus had were running through her mind, that Thistleback wasn’t the only member of the Ministry who’d turned traitor. Siren’s Song was part of the Knights of Dawn, but though their intentions seemed just, they also followed someone impersonating Shadowmere who she did not know the intentions of. At the conclusion of the split second in which these thoughts ran through her head, she decided to risk it.
“The Black Briar and I are trying to find Celestia,” Beryl said, truthfully but from an angle that Siren’s Song was likely to be receptive to. “Something is hiding her from all spells that should locate her, so I came here to find an artifact capable of breaking through, but none of them are present in the Artifact Repository.”
With an effort, Siren’s Song calmed himself.
“The Black Briar, you say?” he asked, and Beryl nodded. “I haven’t been able to contact him since this whole mess started; I suppose that explains why. I’ve assigned whatever agents I could spare to investigate Celestia’s disappearance, but I can’t spare many. Monster attacks are exploding all across Equestria, and we don’t have enough agents to contain them. And with Director Thistleback missing as well, everything falls to me.” Siren’s Song let out a heavy sigh. “If you have a lead on finding Celestia… You said that what you were looking for is not in the Artifact Repository?”
“Yes, that’s right,” Beryl said as she passed the deputy director the slip of parchment with the list of relics.
“Hmm,” Siren’s Song mused as he perused it, occasionally looking back up at Beryl, “I’m going to grant you provisional level-1 access to the Deep Archives.”
“Thank you, sir,” Beryl replied as she took back the list.
“Give me a moment to sort things, and we’ll head down to them,” Siren’s Song said as he turned toward the office door.
“You’re coming along?” Beryl asked in surprise.
“Of course,” Siren’s Song replied. “With Thistleback gone, I need to cast the spell to grant you access to the Deep Archives.”
“Of course,” Beryl replied.
Siren’s Song paused, perhaps suspicious, though he didn’t look it, before exiting her office. She gave him a few minutes to sort things (and herself to figure out how she was going to proceed with the deputy director along) before stepping out after him. As she closed her door, Siren’s Song was finishing up giving marching orders to the department chiefs and shooing away the crowd that had formed in the hallway to get his input on the ongoing crisis.
Once that was accomplished, he led Beryl down the hall to the secret entrance to the Deep Archives. There were still a few ponies who interrupted the trip to speak to Siren’s Song, but with the Ministry the hive of activity it currently was, what was surprising was that it didn’t happen more. They still managed to slip through the wall to the elevator without being seen and descended to the entrance of the Deep Archives.
“Deputy Director, Agent Fields,” Boris addressed them as they entered his antechamber. He seemed more on edge than the previous times Berry had visited the Deep Archives, a harried expression on his face and a tenseness in his body that was completely at odds with the laid-back persona the elderly griffin usually assumed. Rather than lounging behind his desk with his hindpaws up upon it, he was sitting bolt upright in his chair. It was understandable given the crisis currently facing Equestria and the Ministry. “Are you here to check in on the teams scouring the Archives?”
“No, we need access to the Level-1 archives, Boris,” Siren’s Song said authoritatively.
“Right away,” Boris complied, some relief entering his voice and expression as he rose from his seat and stepped toward the vault door. “I hope this means you’ve discovered how to deal with the ongoing … unpleasantness.”
“I hope so, soon,” Siren’s Song answered as he stepped up to the vault door beside Boris and cast the spell that would give Beryl level-1 access.
“Good, good,” Boris said, though his voice betrayed a bit of uneasiness that had returned at the deputy director’s admission that they weren’t yet certain how to counteract Nightmare Moon’s return.
The elderly griffin produced the key ring Berry had seen him use before, though this time rather than slotting a key into one of the heavy door’s locks, he meticulously arranged the keys upon it until the ring emanated a slight reverse glow, seeming to suck in light rather than project it, for a moment until he pulled the keyring apart into two near-identical versions of itself. Selecting one key from each, he slotted them into two hidden locks upon the vault door’s surface. Boris paused for a moment, considering or remembering, before touching a series of runes on the door and adjusting several pins in their brackets. Finally, he grasped both keys, which required him to stretch his forelimbs to their limit, and turned them simultaneously. Clanks sounded from the door’s mechanisms as they disengaged, and Boris grabbed a handle and pulled the heavy door open. Through the opening the door slowly revealed, Beryl could see a vast cavern filled with evenly spaced pedestals, each bearing some arcane artifact, the area illuminated by magical lights on the ceiling that sprang to life in concentric rings radiating from the door.
“The Level-1 archives are seldom accessed, of course, but I still remember how to do it,” Boris said, pride overcoming his anxiety as Siren’s Song strode toward the open door. “Of course, it probably helped that I had to open them just the other day for the di—”
Magical energy exploded from the portal in a cacophonous blast the moment that Siren’s Song stepped through. Beryl witnessed the deputy director flash brilliantly, his body seeming to be made entirely of light, for just a moment before the blast struck her as well. Protective wards around her flared to life, keeping her from being consumed, but she was still thrown backwards, jarring her hip as it bounced off the corner of Boris’s desk. The protective wards common to the Ministry were overcome or seemed to do nothing, but those she’d placed herself, learned from Shadowmere or the contents of his library, held up (for the most part). Though she was bruised from her tumble, she was intact apart from some singed hair in her mane and tail, evident by the acrid smell that hung around her. As she pushed herself to her hooves, she saw Siren’s Song doing the same, similarly battered but alive. Boris was another story.
If he’d been vaporized, that would have been easier to deal with. Instead, the Keeper of the Deep Archives had been torn apart by the blast, shredded into so many small and pulpy parts that it was impossible to tell for the most part what each piece of viscera scattered in a cone from where he’d been standing had once been. The remnants had been propelled with such force that they’d torn gouges in the stone floor or splintered off bits of the griffin’s desk.
It took several seconds for Berry to contain her emotions. Not much time for a normal pony to come to terms with what had happened, but she was a Ministry agent and had been trained to deal with situations like this. The remains weren’t what bothered her, as she’d witnessed many terrible sights in her career, but the loss of Boris cut deeper than she thought it would have. She hadn’t been particularly close to the griffin—Berry didn’t have many friends in general—but Boris had always been a kind and friendly presence in this place where the Ministry kept its darkest secrets. She’d grown fond of not only seeing him here, but of the elderly griffin himself. She would miss him, and she cursed Thistleback for his loss, for it was clear to her that the traitorous director had been behind this. Though Boris’s words had been cut short by his untimely death, it was evident who he’d last opened the door to the Level-1 archives for and who had set this trap.
Meanwhile, Siren’s Song had been going through the same abbreviated, suppressed grieving process as Beryl. As Deputy Director, he’d undoubtedly known Boris longer and better than Beryl had. A slight wince for a moment, followed by a look of shame was all that betrayed it before Siren’s Song started to take a deep breath, thought better of it given what hung in the air, and shook his head before turning to face Berry.
“You have additional wards acquired through your non-Ministry activities?” he asked, and Beryl nodded in confirmation. “Yes, fortunate that you did,” the deputy director said with a brief glance at what had been Boris. “It seems that whoever set this trap was intimately familiar with what wards the Ministry uses and designed this to counteract them.”
“It was Director Thistleback,” Beryl decided to divulge.
“That is a very serious accusation to level, Agent Fields,” Siren’s Song said, a grave expression on his face as he stared her down.
“Who else could have set such a trap? Boris himself was saying he let her into the Level-1 archives just the other day.”
Siren’s Song looked hesitant for a moment before squeezing his eyes shut tightly and reopening them.
“We don’t know what Boris was going to say before he died,” Siren’s Song said at last. “I don’t want to hear any more of this. Let’s find the artifacts you were looking for.”
The archives had suffered some damage from the blast, burns upon the floor, ceiling, and pedestals, but the artifacts upon the pedestals seemed, for the most part, to be untouched. The door through which Berry and Siren’s Song passed was set into a column in the center of the chamber, with pedestals in rings around it. Most were simply laid or displayed upon the pedestals, but a few, likely the more dangerous ones, were chained down. Each pedestal had a plaque upon it bearing the name of the artifact, as well as information on how it was to be used and warnings about its dangers. Not all pedestals bore artifacts, though most of those which were vacant had no plaque and had never housed one. Those that did have a missing artifact were almost universally those that they were looking for. As they went through Berry’s list, again and again they found that the artifact was not in the archive.
“How can they all be gone?” Siren’s Song asked frustratedly.
“Clearly they were taken by the same pony who ponynapped Celestia, to keep us from finding her,” Berry said.
“But so many…” Siren’s Song said as he shook his head.
“Only Director Thistleback could have removed such a large number of artifacts without raising suspicion,” Beryl broached the subject again, and though Siren’s Song’s brow furrowed in anger again, this time he didn’t immediately contradict her.
“Maybe…” he conceded after internal deliberation.
“There’s one more artifact on the list,” Berry changed the subject to let the deputy director have more time to consider his superior’s betrayal.
“Yes, but I don’t see how the Arrow of Ages is supposed to help locate Celestia. It was Guiding Light the Just’s weapon, not a locator,” Siren’s Song said.
“I have it on good authority it’s both,” Berry replied.
“The Black Briar?” Siren’s Song asked, and she nodded.
Coming to the Ministry, Berry had known there was a good possibility that Director Thistleback had cleared out any artifacts that could be used to find or hide Celestia. However, she’d hoped that the Arrow of Ages had been overlooked. The Ministry didn’t know its alternative use, according to Shadowmere, so if Thistleback didn’t have additional insight, then it might still be here. Fortunately, the spear-length arrow made of gold was still standing upright upon its pedestal. Berry reached out with her magic to take it, but Siren’s Song beat her to it, grasping it in his magic and willing it down to the size of a regular arrow so that it could be tucked away in his uniform.
“If you’re taking a relic of this level with you, I’m coming along,” the deputy director said when Beryl looked at him questioningly.
“Okay,” Beryl said, not in any position to argue, yet feeling the need to try to keep him away from Shadowmere and Malthus, “But what about running the Ministry?”
“I can deal with that. This is more important, wouldn’t you say?”
***
Siren’s Song was able to make good on his intent, though not as quickly as Berry would have liked. Celestia remained missing and she was forced to wait while the deputy director put things in order for his departure. Command of the Ministry was passed off to a fellow Knight of Dawn: Operations Chief Verdant Blades. She could be trusted with a little more information than others regarding the situation that pulled Siren’s Song away. He also informed her of the situation in the Deep Archives and the unfortunate loss of Boris. There would need to be closer guarding of the Deep Archives now that their Keeper was gone. Until a replacement was brought in, nopony could enter the Deep Archives apart from when those already inside opened the door for their side. They had also closed off the Level-0 archive upon leaving, so they had to hope nopony in the Ministry needed to retrieve any of the restricted relics while they were away.
Once Siren’s Song had prepared the Ministry for his absence, Berry had a new issue to deal with. Though she’d been informed that the Arrow of Ages could be used to find Celestia, she had no idea how she was supposed to use it to do so. That meant she needed to return to Malthus and Shadowmere and couldn’t hare off with Siren’s Song on her own. The two immortals had taken up position in a warehouse near the Ministry’s entrance, though there was no sign of them as Berry and Siren’s Song entered until they stepped out of the shadows.
“What is he doing here?” Malthus asked while he and Siren’s Song looked suspiciously at each other.
“He insisted,” Berry replied while the two continued to stare each other down. “Everything was taken but the Arrow of Ages.”
“I’ll use it to point the way,” Shadowmere said, and Siren’s Song quickly snapped his gaze toward him, his eyes growing wide.
“Berry, that is not the Black Briar!” Siren’s Song said with alarm as he summoned a flaming sword.
“Wait!” Beryl called as the Deputy Director of the Ministry charged at Shadowmere.
The immortal stallion dodged Siren’s Song’s swings, but didn’t retaliate. Siren’s Song was unresponsive to Berry’s continued calls to desist. If she could, she’d have tried to physically hold him back, but doing so would probably end with him striking out at her as well, so instead she looked to Malthus. After rolling his eyes and sighing wearily, Celestia’s advisor wrapped Siren’s Song in his magic, restraining him.
“Siren’s Song, wait,” Berry said to the livid deputy director. “No, he is not the Black Briar you know, but he is the Black Briar. Maybe the Black Briar is just a mythological figure and there are multiple ponies claiming the title. Maybe one is copying the other. I’ve seen enough to believe that Shadowmere here is the original Black Briar. I don’t know who the Black Briar leading the Knights of Dawn is or how they’re related, but I trust Shadowmere and his knowledge of how to deal with crises like the one we’re facing.”
“And you?” Siren’s Song said, eyeing Malthus. “You trust him?”
“Ha!” Malthus cackled sarcastically. “I wouldn’t say I trust him, though working with him now is the best chance we have to recover Celestia. For that matter, I wouldn’t say I trust you either, with the betrayal of your Ministry’s director.”
“Director Thistleback? What are you talking about?” Siren’s Song said, tensing up as much as he could while restrained magically.
“I told him about Thistleback,” Beryl said as Malthus and Shadowmere looked to her questioningly. “Something is wrong.”
Shadowmere approached the deputy director and grunted.
“Someone has definitely interfered with his mind,” he said.
“What are you—” Siren’s Song said before suddenly flinching as Shadowmere removed the enchantment upon him.
A look of understanding and horror crossed over Siren’s Song’s face before it returned to neutral. Malthus released him from his magic, and the deputy director made no more moves against Shadowmere.
“It is a time for strange bedfellows,” he at last said before removing the Arrow of Ages from his uniform and hovering it over to Shadowmere.
As it left his possession, the Arrow grew back to its true size, and Shadowmere supported it with a hoof upright, balanced on its fletching. With a knife, he sliced into his foreleg until the tip of the knife was coated in blood. He scrawled several patterns along the Arrow’s shaft before wiping the blade off and putting it away.
“Arrow of Ages, point us the way to Celestia, Princess of Equestria, Child of Aetherius, Alicorn of the Sun,” Shadowmere commanded, and a humming sound came from the Arrow of Ages.
The relic levitated and began to slowly rotate on all three axes. After a minute of movement, it eventually came to rest pointing nearly directly upward. Through a skylight in the warehouse, the quartet of ponies could see that the Arrow was pointed directly at the Moon.
“Arrow of Ages, show us our quarry,” Shadowmere commanded again.
Above the tip of the Arrow, a sheet of ice began to form in the air, spreading in all directions. When the edges began to crackle and splinter off, the center formed into a glassy image. Through the ice, they could see a bizarre landscape of cyclopean stones and blue crystal. At the center of the image was Celestia encased in crystal. She was sharply defined, but the figures moving around her were blurry and indistinct. Nevertheless, from the coloring, it wasn’t difficult to tell that one of them bore a resemblance to Director Thistleback.
“She’s at the ALE,” Malthus said thoughtfully. “Clever.”
“The what?” Siren’s Song asked.
“The Arcane Lunar Equiposition,” Shadowmere explained. “It’s the point ‘balanced’ between Equus and the Moon’s magical fields. Because it exists both in and out of our reality simultaneously, it’s naturally shielded from many probing spells. Adding in the stolen relics, they made it nearly impossible for anypony to locate them.”
“How do we get there?” Berry asked the pertinent question.
“There are no connected doors at the ALE,” Malthus said as she looked to him, “But there once was. Perhaps…”
Malthus reached out with his magic toward the still-levitating Arrow. At first, the relic seemed to resist, the glow of Malthus’s magic stopping short of meeting its golden surface. Then, Malthus’s magic swirled around and caressed the Arrow’s shaft.
“I think… I can take us there,” Malthus said hesitantly. “Hooves upon the Arrow of Ages.”
The other three complied, stepping up and pressing their hooves against the shaft of the relic. Malthus did the same and gritted his teeth before making an attempt to take them to the Arcane Lunar Equiposition. Space seemed to stretch around the group, and a tension built in the air as if the Arrow of Ages was being physically drawn back. Then, it released, shattering the icy image of their target as it rushed forward, pulling the four ponies with it. Everything seemed to warp around them as they were drawn into the sky, passing through the warehouse skylight without shattering it. They rose high above Canterlot and the mountain range it was built upon, faster and faster until Equestria stretched out beneath them, and then the sphere that was the planet Equus. Bizarrely, night seemed to wrap the entire world, no sign of the Sun or hint of its light to suggest it was on the other side of the globe. Not that they had much chance to look back at where they’d come as they hurtled toward their destination.
The Moon grew large, but before it filled their vision, something else came into view. Two pyramids of dark stone hovered in space, the faint blue glow surrounding them matching the striations of crystal that ran through the stones. The pyramids stood with their points colliding, debris hovering in a captured moment of destruction. The Arrow curved around the ALE before swerving inward toward a doorway and finally going inert. The four ponies found themselves tumbling through open space. The unicorns halted their advance and shielded their falls while Shadowmere tumbled across the stones, none the worse for wear as he stood up, retrieving the Arrow of Ages from where it had clattered down beside him.
“We’re here,” Malthus stated what they could all easily observe. “I do not know how we are to return, though.”
“We can figure that out after we deal with the matter at hoof and have more time to prepare a way,” Shadowmere said. “Celestia is awaiting us above.”
He had only barely finished speaking when Berry spotted movement above. Instinctively, she raised her crossbow and fired off a quarrel. It missed the pegasus, as did Siren’s Song’s crossbow bolt fired off a moment later, but Berry’s second shot flew true, striking her in the heart. In this strangely balanced space, the body of who Berry desperately hoped she’d been right to label an enemy didn’t fall, but instead drifted away in the direction the bolts had propelled it until it was caught by the gravity of the pyramid above and fell down the sloped side.
If those who had taken Celestia hadn’t realized they were here before, they would now. The quartet needed to hurry lest they try to do something drastic with the Princess of the Sun. Shadowmere surrendered the Arrow of Ages to Siren’s Song, who once again shrunk it down to normal arrow size, as he led the way into the pyramid and up the ancient stairs. They had landed nearly two-thirds of the way up the pyramid, so it didn’t take long for them to reach the highest level that hadn’t been destroyed.
The stairs led up onto a large stone floor surrounded by broken walls with piles of rubble and crystal lying or floating around. A scattering of figures filled the space, mostly ponies, but with a few griffins as well. Three of the pegasi at second glance had bat wings rather than feathers, and they hovered near the center of the space, over a crystal within which was immersed Celestia, surrounded by piles of magical relics. Standing next to Celestia was a pony that was all too familiar: Director Thistleback.
“Stop them!” one of the bat-winged ponies commanded, pointing a hoof in the direction of Beryl, Malthus, Shadowmere, and Siren’s Song.
The various creatures arrayed against them rushed to comply, and Celestia’s would-be rescuers leapt into action. Shadowmere summoned Daybreak, the sword dropping into his mouth. A fan of weapons materialized behind Malthus, and he drew a sword and axe from the stash. Siren’s Song and Beryl both levitated their Ministry crossbows. Berry was glad to have taken the time while Siren’s Song was handing off his Ministry duties to restock her stash of quarrels, for now she found great need for them.
Blades swung and bolts of steel and magic arced through the air in both directions as the quartet charged toward Celestia. Their opponents were all armed in some manner, but most did not seem suited for combat. At least, not against ponies who had spent (in some cases hundreds of) years training to fight far more dangerous foes. Berry fired her crossbow at a swooping pegasus while hamstringing an earth pony stallion with a summoned sword. Blood flew from the sword as she threatened a unicorn with it, causing her to step back and stumble as the pegasus shot before crashed into her. Before either of them could rise, she summoned an inverted shield over them to keep them trapped. A Saddle Arabian-looking pony was all that now barred the way to Thistleback, but his swordplay forced Beryl to dodge and counter before dispatching her, allowing Siren’s Song to reach the traitorous director first.
“Director! How could you?” he demanded as he charged Thistleback with his rapier held aloft.
Thistleback neatly dodge out of the way, wearing a look not of anger, but of disinterested scorn.
“It was the logical choice, Deputy Director,” she replied as she levitated a set of half-moon blades and sent them spinning at Siren’s Song.
“How can you say that?” Siren’s Song said angrily as he tried to dodge the blades twirling around him, forced to twist his neck back and forth to keep them in sight. “The Ministry is sworn to Celestia! To protect Equestria from terrors of the dark, not assist them!”
As Siren’s Song began levitating shields around himself and assigning them to track the half-moon blades, Beryl closed the gap and joined the fight. Her summoned blade would have struck Thistleback in the back, but as it neared her, it struck against invisible armor that lit up, revealing it covering most of her frame, and the sword melted away.
“Have you forgotten your history?” Thistleback asked as she sent a wave of fire at Beryl, forcing her back to make enough space to counter the spell. “The Ministry exists because Celestia failed . For centuries, Luna held back the monsters, but when Celestia banished her to the Moon, she could not do what her sister had done. She needed the Ministry to do it for her.”
Beryl summoned magical daggers, sending them showering over Thistleback, trying to identify weak points in her armor, while Siren’s Song swung his rapier around to counter the bladed staff Thistleback had pulled from the pile of relics.
“But the Ministry cannot stop the rising tide,” Thistleback continued as she poured magic into the stones, causing those beneath Berry’s hooves to semi-liquefy and pull her in. “Monster attacks increase, ponies die, and soon we will fail to keep even knowledge of such things contained. I’ve seen the numbers. I’ve seen the projections.”
Siren’s Song teleported behind Thistleback, but she still managed to counter his swipe for the back of her neck. The blades that followed the deputy director bounced off her armor, highlighting it and the gaps at her inner joints and neck. Beryl freed herself from the stones and fired her crossbow at Thistleback, who caught the quarrel out of the air in her magic, before sending it rocketing back.
“Before Luna was banished, Equestria was an idyllic place. It can be so again, but we need something more than the Ministry to accomplish it,” Thistleback went on. “The Cabal of Nightmare Moon has been planning her return for a thousand years. Once I realized that we could restore things to the way they were, with no need for the Ministry, it was an easy choice to make to assist them.”
“You would make the Ministry obsolete?” Siren’s Song questioned as Thistleback teleported away from a jab.
“To save thousands of pony lives, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do,” Thistleback replied.
Thistleback found herself hounded by Siren’s Song’s and Beryl Fields’s attacks, but before they could press their advantage to a decisive conclusion, a shadow descended over Beryl. One of the bat-winged ponies had broken off from whatever other fight he’d been involved in and swooped silently down onto her. Faster than he should have been able to, the bat-pony hoisted Berry into the air and threw her out toward empty space.
Before she had flown too far, Berry reacted and drew her crossbow, slotting in a new bolt before firing it at the bat-pony. Her aim was true, striking him in a leathery wing, the barbs at the bolt’s tip extending and holding it in place. A wire ran from the bolt back to the winding device attached to Beryl’s shoulder which she activated as soon as it was in place, drawing her and the bat-pony together. The bat-pony managed to cut the line, but by then it was too late to cease the Ministry agent’s momentum. The two collided in midair, Berry using the opportunity to push off her opponent and away from the abyss.
Beryl’s hooves touched down on a crystal hovering in the floaty space between the two pyramids, producing a ringing sound, and she pushed off it as lightning began to course over its surface. Her trajectory brought her (intentionally) into contact with the bat-pony again, who had stabilized himself and attached long blades to his forelegs. Beryl struck out with a sword of magic, but his blades miraculously blocked her strikes. The two of them moved through the field of floating debris, attempting to strike each other, but Berry found herself on the backhoof, retreating more than attacking as her opponent used his wings as an advantage. Kicking one of the floating stones in his direction, Berry maneuvered herself so that she was headed toward the pyramid above the one where most of the fighting was going on. Gravity gradually returned, and she twisted in the air to try to regain her proper orientation before she landed upon the dark stone of the pyramid’s top level.
She threw up a shield around herself as the bat-pony swooped toward her and, as she’d anticipated, his blades cut right through it. Beryl had already stepped to the side and bucked her attacker away. She fired her crossbow at him, but he immediately took back off into the air and swooped around again. This time when he came at her, Beryl teleported away, reappearing behind him. Her crossbow bolt struck the back of his head, and though his armor did protect him from any real harm, it did stagger him. Berry took advantage of the bat-pony’s momentary vulnerability to rush in, a set of special quarrels levitated ahead of her. With blasts of magic, she drove them through her enemy’s wings into the stone, pinning him down. Once they were all driven in, lines of power appeared between them, binding the bat-pony in place.
Looking above her, she could see the remaining fights going on. Malthus and Shadowmere primarily faced off against the other two bat-ponies, though a few of the regular cabalites continued to hound them, not allowing them to fully focus on their primary opponents. Siren’s Song and Thistleback continued to duel, though their fight had taken them away from Celestia. Among the other relics piled around the Sun Princess, she thought she could see a large sword that, if she recalled what she’d read about crystal imprisonment correctly, would allow her to free Celestia.
Beryl teleported to the opposite pyramid, flipping herself nearly perfectly with the teleportation, but still landing at a slight angle and needing a second to steady herself. She pulled the sword from the pile with her magic, but her attention was yanked away as she heard Siren’s Song cry out in pain. He and Thistleback were locked in place, each holding the other still in their magic, and one of Siren’s Song’s hindlegs was snapped at an unnatural angle. His rapier was held at Thistleback’s throat, the tip poised in the gap between her invisible pieces of armor. While he was unable to move it, he was able to flick a switch on it that caused the blade to swiftly extend, slicing through Thistleback’s windpipe. Her eyes grew wide, and the director’s body turned to smoke, flitting away. As Thistleback’s body reformed, she looked in a very bad way, bloody foam coming from her muzzle. She pulled a powerful regenerative potion from her saddlebags, but before she could uncap and down the contents, Beryl fired a quarrel into it, sending the potion and glass flying out of Thistleback’s grasp. The Ministry’s director turned toward Berry for a moment, a look of horror in her eyes, before collapsing.
Beryl looked at Siren’s Song to confirm he was successfully treating his own injury before returning to her task. The sword was longer than Beryl’s body and wider than her forelimb. Instead of a pointed tip, the blade curved out before arcing into a rounded end. Beryl raised the sword up and plunged it into the crystal above Celestia, careful not to let it cut too deep and harm the pony trapped within. The sword had no trouble entering the crystal, though rather than cracking or slicing a solid surface, it felt as if it were sinking into a viscous substance.
The crystal, however, did exhibit cracks once the sword had entered and light flared out from it, a warm yellow light in contrast to the cold blue that came from them normally. Beryl was forced to step back as that light exploded from the crystal, appearing as a physical wave that rushed outward. Wherever it struck the members of the Cabal of Nightmare Moon, they all fell insensate. The wave did eventually fade but remained as a slight glow around the pony who stepped out of it: Princess Celestia. The princess looked slightly disoriented, but quickly recovered herself.
“Your highness,” Siren’s Song hurried to say as he hobbled up, his leg still repairing itself, and bowed before her.
“Deputy Director Siren’s Song,” Celestia addressed him, before frowning and looking toward the body of Thistleback, “And Director Thistleback.”
“Yes, your highness,” Siren’s Song said. “I’m sorry to say the Ministry has failed you.”
“The Ministry has not failed,” Celestia said in a motherly tone, as she looked at both Siren’s Song and Beryl Fields, “After all, you are here.”
Celestia looked next to the two other ponies. Shadowmere was busy restraining the unconscious enemies in case they were to awaken. Malthus, on the other hoof, was beginning to make his way toward the body of Director Thistleback while keeping his eyes on Celestia. The Sun Princess opened her mouth to say something before her eyes suddenly went wide. A serene smile then settled on her face.
“Malthus and Shadowmere together. I never thought I would see the day, but that will have to be interrogated later. I’m afraid I must leave you all now,” Celestia said before opening a swirling, glowing portal. “This portal will take you wherever you need to go. As for me, I have a student to congratulate and a sister I thought lost to me forever to reunite with. Director Siren’s Song, see that the survivors are taken into the Ministry’s custody for now.”
“Yes, your highness. Thank you,” the Ministry’s new director said as he gave another bow.
Celestia smiled, looking happy but also slightly nervous as she approached the portal and stepped through.
“Malthus, what do you think you’re doing?” Shadowmere called out, his voice urgent and icy, interrupting the moment of peace that followed Celestia’s departure.
Malthus stood over Thistleback’s body, her saddlebags’ contents strewn on the ground. Within Malthus’s magic hovered a small golden orb. His eyepatch was pulled up, revealing an empty socket, and he pressed the orb into the gap.
“No!” Shadowmere cried as he charged Malthus, taking up Daybreak, which he hadn’t yet dismissed.
As he swung at Malthus, the unicorn neatly sidestepped the blade. Again and again, Malthus anticipated Shadowmere’s swings and easily dodged them, never striking back himself, a grim expression on his face.
“You know you cannot best me now, Shadowmere,” Malthus said drily.
“You know what the consequences of using the Eye of Larghast will be,” Shadowmere said, fury in his voice barely contained.
“Then you had better give me what I most need. An end. Until then, I’ll hold onto the Eye, Shadowmere. Don’t wait too long,” Malthus said before striding confidently toward the portal created by Celestia, pausing as he passed Beryl to speak to her over his shoulder. “Don’t trust Shadowmere, Agent Fields. Get away from him if you can, before it’s too late. Before you become like me.”
With that, Malthus stepped through the portal, vanishing into parts unknown.
***
The Longest Night, or the Selene Incident (as the Ministry would refer to it, at least provisionally until somepony came up with a better name) would be quickly overshadowed in its terror to the general populace. While Shadowmere, Beryl, Malthus, and Siren’s Song had been attempting to rescue Celestia, unknown to them there had been somepony pursuing how to deal with Nightmare Moon. Celestia’s most faithful student, Twilight Sparkle, had ventured into the Everfree Forest with five other random ponies and discovered the long-lost relics the Elements of Harmony, using them to defeat Nightmare Moon. In that defeat, however, they had not annihilated her, but restored her to who she’d been before she’d turned against her sister and been banished to the Moon. Luna had returned, and Celestia made spreading news of this her primary concern. While the Longest Night would not be easily forgotten, it could be downplayed, and though the Ministry would have a lot of work ahead of them covering up the surge in monster attacks, it wasn’t quite the “tearing of the veil” moment that it was initially feared to be. For the population at large, very little had changed in their perception of what was real regarding things that went bump in the night. However, for Beryl Fields and Shadowmere, things had changed, or had at least been set in motion to change in the future.
“It was inevitable that eventually the Ministry would learn—or rather, relearn —of my existence,” Shadowmere told her as they sat in the library of his hideout under Rosethorn Hall.
“I wouldn’t worry about Siren’s Song spreading this to the rest of the Ministry,” Beryl replied. “He understands the need to keep sensitive information restricted. I would be more concerned about that already restricted group—the Knights of Dawn—and how to deal with the other Shadowmere leading them.”
“Hmm, yes. We will need to deal with them sooner rather than later,” Shadowmere said thoughtfully. “As for Malthus… I will have to do what I can. Things are about to become… complicated.”
“Are they ever simple?” Beryl asked.
“Never,” Shadowmere said with great weariness.
Looking at him, Berry felt both that Shadowmere was more and less mortal than she usually perceived him. Who was he? What was he? Since meeting him, she’d come into contact with several ancient beings, and now multiple had warned them about him. Celestia seemed to trust him, but was that enough? Celestia had also trusted Thistleback, and Beryl’s faith in the princess’s judgement had been shaken by her superior’s betrayal. Shadowmere had secrets; that she’d known from the start. Now, however, she was finding it harder to brush those questions she had away. How was she supposed to start finding answers to these questions? She could ask Shadowmere, but he’d been reticent to reveal anything in the past, and the repeated warnings from others who had once been close to him made her wary of pressing too hard. Who and what was Shadowmere, and how had he become what he was?
***
The void was nothingness. Nothingness was the void. Yet, in the void, something stirred. The void stirred.
Everything would come to the void… eventually. Everything would become the void… eventually. Living or inanimate, all things were subject to decay and death in their own way. Eventually, they would cease to be, and the void would claim them.
The void was nothing and yet it could be said to be someone . It was aware , all too aware of the myriad living things that persisted in building and surviving while ignoring the truth that all they’d built would one day crumble and they themselves would one day die. Long ago, those that had seen the truth had worshipped the void, and given it names, things that gave it the power to act upon the world, to intervene. Not that Sithis needed to intervene, not when all that existed would succumb eventually. He’d been called a god, even the god of chaos, but he was no mere Draconequus, nor even an Equine. Discord was welcome to the title of chaos god; Sithis was something far more primal, a god of process, a god of entropy .
Sithis was the void, a being with great power, but no substance. Yet, as he was now, that void had been restricted, bound in place. His ancient servant had accomplished that feat, considered to be impossible by all, yet Sithis was not bothered. Even in betrayal, his servant still served him, and in time everything decayed, even powerful magical seals.
One seal had broken, a seal that had been known by mortals as Nightmare Moon. Another was weakening now at an accelerated rate. Yet, all the seals were weakening, crumbling, straining from the passage of centuries and the actions of mortals. The seals would all fail—in minutes or millennia, it mattered not to Sithis. The ancient void stirred, but made no attempts to strain against the confines of the prison he refused to acknowledge. To do so was not Sithis’s way, not when all would crumble and come to him in the course of time anyway. Sooner or later, he would be free to directly touch the world once more, and then he and his servant would have a little chat.
