Fallout Equestria - The Eerie

Chapters

Book 1 - Chapter - 01
Book 1 - Chapter - 02
Book 1 - Chapter - 03
Book 1 - Chapter - 04
Book 1 - Chapter - 05
Book 2 - Chapter - 01

Book 1 - Chapter - 01

(Please note: Due to the usual FoE Writer stresses (lack of editors mostly) the first two chapters of "The Eerie" are much much messier in terms of editing then the rest of the series onward. This is due in part to these chapters being changed a great deal before the final draft and also due to the fact we didn't have our third set of eyes until Chapter 3. This is more or less a note from us to say that these chapters are dotted with spelling mistakes and little grammatical errors, we just want to say we are well aware they are here and we have plans to fix these chapters very soon.

Thanks for understanding!

~Darcy)

War, War never changes.

When war came to ponykind. The Penumbra Highlands underwent a monstrous change, the hunger of the Equestrian war machine clawed its way across the virgin cliffs and valleys, thousands of mines scarred the hills, hundreds of refineries bloomed and filled the skies with impure and hellish smog as the cities swelled with millions of souls desperate for a new start or just hoping to distance themselves from the horrors of war.

When the world was consumed by a bombardment of necromancy and impure fire, Penumbra was spared, its cities and towns survived the bombs and lived on all the while the world fell apart around them and the skies closed above them. The momentary peace was short lived as the clouds of fallout kicked from the ashes of a thousand dead cities blew into the mountains and conspired with the toxic smog of a thousand factories, untold hell spawned in the twisted and tainted peaks slowly the fog rolled into the cities and towns below and the hunger of thousand mouths crawled out of the fog and consumed all they could find. held back only by a wall, a lighthouse separating the border of the mainland to the mountains and a single regiment of Rangers from nearby Alwhinny County that refused to abandon their post stood alone and held the line against the horde.

After the tide eased and the monsters returned to the mountains, the Rangers swore an oath to forever protect the world from the horrors that lurk in the fog, that oath still exists today, two hundred years after it was sworn, and the Rangers of Alwhinny still watch the wall, thanklessly keeping their weapons pointed to the endless night beyond the border.

Life still goes on years after the end, despite the region being shrouded in an endless blanket of demonic night eyes still gaze into the eerie, factions still mingle in darkness, the Rangers of Alwhinny still hold the line and above all else.

War, War never changes.

_______

Dear Sister.

Dad is dead.

Darkwater Down was attacked last night.

Please return home as fast as you can.

~Ashes.

_____

Written by DarcySupremest - With Assistance from PistolWhip

____

There was an odd sort of silence as we both looked over the fresh and neat pony sized mound of dirt underneath both our hooves. It was a morbid and somewhat fitting irony that the first time I had seen my sister since we were kids was standing over the grave of our father. I suppose neither of us had much in common but we were close as foals and I was surprised she was even able to make it back to Darkwater Down to help bury one last body. I suppose I underestimated how much my sister cared about our father, or, at the very least never expected her to have such a heavy sense of sentimentality.

Neither of us were crying, but the silence was just as painful as if we were sobbing. My own desperation broke that silence quick enough.

“You know he once said to me, if my body ended up on his doorstep, he’d refuse to bury me.” I said softly to the figure beside me.

I was prepared to let the silence be my reply but soon enough she spoke up “I’m glad you were decent enough to not mimic his wishes.” the voice was north-northeast cold, not unfamiliar, just harder than I would’ve thought.

From the corner of my vision I could see her head peer up and look towards our childhood home. A once grand albeit disrepaired homestead now lied in smoldering ruin, the cinders barely done crackling on the charred corpse of where I called home, every small gust kicking up the settled ash in mock imitation of the flames that levelled it. “What happened here?”

I looked up from the mound and toward her face which gazed at wreckage that was once a home and a place of morbid business “Not sure; the Rangers wouldn’t let me see the thing when they killed it. But it was a mutant of some kind, given the speed it moved I’d hazard a guess it was a manticore or something similar. Fire wasn’t it’s fault though, the Rangers burnt the place down trying to kill whatever it was.”

“So nice of the Garrison to burn our house down.” she mumbled looking at the collapsed heap of blackened cinder blocks and soot caked stone that was once the morgue of our large house.

“Word on the street says that it’s from Penumbra, that's why the rangers wouldn’t let anybody near it when it died.”

My sister pursed her lips in thought “That would mean there's some kind of hole in the wall.”

“That's the prefered theory right now” I replied bluntly.

“Where were you during all of this?”

I gestured weakly with my head off into town “At the tavern, where the fuck else would I be? By the time I saw it attacking the house and ran back it was too late, I’d like to say it was quick but you know what Dad used to say, it never is.”

The tall and graceful figure of my sister shifted in short strides over closer to the house as she looked more closely at it. I could tell in the way she stood and even in the way she breathed that as cold and uncaring as she normally was, she was in as much grief as she could muster. Her stride was that of a mare now, it was strange seeing it on her, the way she carried herself was like a forgery trying hard not to seem like one, overdone and memorized.

“I can at least tell you the old bastard died with a rifle in his hooves, that's more than I can say for most of corpses that end up in this place.”

She nodded giving the jagged and rheumatic corpse of a house one last look before she gazed back at me, bowing her head down and lifting that strange red glinting eyeglass up to her head and slipping it over her left eye, obscuring the light blue behind a hue of hellish crimson, the glass flickering gently with scrolling lines of text and shifting symbols. Feeding her data that only the chosen like her were fit to comprehend.

“I don’t suppose you will…”

I shook my head “Way too expensive, there's no way I can get the yard back to working condition now.” I paused “I went into town this morning before you arrived and had a chat with Father Pennywise, he said he’d take the land and look after the yard from now on.”

There was a gentle flurry of cloth as charcoal black cloak wrapped itself around my sister’s dark beige body tying up tightly and putting her back into a state of more presentable uniform. “Is he paying?” she asked flatly, her stance stiff and unyielding, the uniform suited her, made her seem half as mechanical as she was...is.

“Dust, I’m not going to stick my hooves out and ask the goddamn church for money, I was lucky enough that the Father even took this, he’s got no experience in being an undertaker like Dad. I’d assume that if he wasn’t a stallion of faith he’d have never agreed to take this yard off me in the first place.”

She nodded in reply “Understandable, I can’t imagine ruined Graveyards are easy to sell off…” she sighed.

There was a brief bout of silence before she looked across staring intently with her unemotive eyes into my own“Where will you go now?”

I shrugged “No idea, to be perfectly honest I’m glad this happened, I never wanted to take over this place, the world is shitty enough these days let alone spending the rest of my life surrounded by dead bodies.”

Another ebb of silence took over as we stood across from one another. “You know...you could always come back with me Ashes, you’re decent enough with a rifle, I’m sure they’d take you in as a guard, that's more than most of the idiots back in Filly have.”

I shook my head “Thank you Dust but I’m not going to ask the stallion who sent an envoy halfway across the waste looking to hire you to give me the same treatment, I’m not like you, there isn’t a whole lot I can do to warrant that kind of kindness, I didn’t even stay in school.”

Another weaker nod “Understandable; Though that still doesn’t answer my question Ashes, do you even have a plan?”

“Well, I do have one.”

Her hard eyes narrowed, shooting me a stabbing glare, with a flare of irate curiosity hidden behind those indurated pupils...“You don’t mean..?”

I nodded in reply “Yes Dust, I mean that.”

She shook her head disappointedly and heaved a sigh heavier than the coffin under the grave we stood on “You’re an Idiot Ashes, you know he never approved of that.” She snapped curtly, she was always right, it was just the way she was.

“Well he’s dead now, and so is the house, the morgue and the entire fucking graveyard Dust. Even if I wanted to spend the rest of my days wrapping corpses in linen and burying boxes in dirt, I can’t do it anymore regardless.” I reasoned, reasoning thankfully was something she rarely argued with, and more often than not lorded over me with.

She lifted her hoof to her face and rubbed it gently, (in an attempt to assuage the headache only her little idiot brother could possibly give her. “Lets not do this at our father’s funeral please Ashes, I don’t know when they’ll let me leave Fillydelphia again after this, I’d like to make this meeting as pleasant as I can.” She pushed out in exasperation, I was trying not to be difficult, but indignation ran in our blood, thicker in her’s.

I nodded,“You’re right, sorry…” I sighed wearily, looking over at the looming and towering concrete walls that hung on the horizon between the mountain peaks. Closing it all off from the world, quarantining more like, performing perhaps the most thankless but direly needed service in Equestria. As we spoke that commendable old Lighthouse that housed the Rangers spun, casting its mighty light giving gaze out into the Penumbra Highlands before turning its back and glowering out into the wastelands.

That familiar silence fell over us again, Like a heavy, uneasy blanket over our backs.

“You know, when you told him I was thinking of joining the Rangers, he took me into the morgue and showed me two of them.” I began. “One was missing its entire bottom half, the other, her throat was covered in scratches and bruises, and I remember he walked to the one on the left and he said ‘This one was mauled by a mutant, this one choked on her own spit when the cancer in her lungs sent her into a coughing fit’.”

I shook my head looking at the crumbling bricks of the morgue. “He did a good job, I’ll give him that, the desire to join the Rangers died hard that night, yesterday was the first time since I was fourteen that I actually thought about joining them.”

“Why are you so interested in joining them Brother? If you know where they end up, why seek to join them?” she questioned sternly, brows furrowed in vexation towards me, the hapless and unintelligent little brother who just happened to be the only family left for her.

I smirked weakly, and an even weaker laugh escaped. I had tried to put on for my father’s sake. “Thats not what scared me away, what scared me away is what he said after he covered the bodies again.” I began my eyes staring watching the beam of light circle around the towering fortress lighthouse.

“He said to me, these are the lucky ones” I started “He said; Ashes, do you know why we only occasionally get the bodies of Rangers? And I said ‘no’ of course.”

My sister knew the answer. Even if this place was no longer her home, everybody from Darkwater Down knew the kind of horrors that lurked beyond the Garrison walls. It was a question every child would ask, and every young adult would regret hearing the answer to. All the tales and rumours, the strange monikers and nicknames given to the anomalies beyond, it was a romantic childish dream to join the rangers, but everyone knew the truth before long.

“They lose more bodies in Penumbra than they they recover.”

I sullenly shook my head to clear it from the grim memories this conversation invoked, pulling my gaze away from the lighthouse tower and back to her. “That night I had a nightmare that I was lost in the dark. that my flashlight wasn’t bright enough to push the inky black away from me…” I recalled aloud, the lucid imagery flooding back to me.

Like another coat of fur layering over my body, I could feel the anxiety wrap itself tautly around my frame “I could feel it, I could feel the darkness closing in on me, silently laughing as it strode toward me, ready to swallow me in black.” to think back to it made my back muscles bind up so much so they cramped around my spine, the unnatural clenching of my jaw, the constriction in my body affecting my circulation enough to tinge my eyes blurry.

I shook my head again, more vigorously this time and gave a weak forced laugh trying to break the quickly darkening mood. “I couldn’t sleep without a light on for days after that nightmare.” There was a tremble to my voice as I spoke, thoughts around here were unpalatable at best, the stiffness building in my neck was not uncommon. A by-product, some say of living so close to ‘it’.

Unnatural thoughts, irrepressible and implacable… You’d see it sometimes, in the tavern, all of a sudden a jovial, boisterous guy would go all quiet like, he’d gulp so hard you’d swear there was a tent peg in his gullet, his coat suddenly glistening as the icy sweat dripped from their pores.

“Exactly, why would you join them if they terrify you so much?” she replied snapping me from my stupor, I felt moisture in my bodily alcoves.

As I returned to my senses and the words she spoke, I could tell she was trying to not sound as if she cared. She was oblivious as to the episode that came over me, perhaps she was too young to remember the problems that befell those who lived here… or to mechanical to register it.

Clearing my throat and letting my heart rate fall I shrugged as nonchalantly as I could and looked at the mount of dirt which was now the final resting place of our father. “Not sure, I could say for the adventure and the honor, all that other bullshit but the truth is the steady paycheck is more tempting than that, and that's not even the reason I want to join.”

She shook her head and heaved a heavy sigh “Then what is?” her tone bitter and biting, implacable as ever with peon’s such as me’s choices.

“I guess because I wanted to be like you, I mean you made a name for yourself here because of what happened, I wanted that, Dad was so stupidly proud of you, he bring up the latest letter you sent to him , show it off to every fucking person he talked to. I wanted that, I wanted dad to wave my letters around and brag about me, problem was I couldn't fix pumps or repair windmills, I could barely do math let alone get Darkwater’s electricity working again like you did, I mean you did so much for Darkwater Down, you’ve helped this town in more ways than I think anybody can count.” I peered at her red eyeglass which flickered and flashed a combination of secretive symbols and text. “The only way I can think to be even remotely as important and great as you are is to help protect my home on the wall, I feel as in some small way, guarding my home is the most a stallion like me can hope to ever achieve.”

She nodded, not just in reply. It was a gesture of understanding. “I won’t pretend I approve, but I do understand and I suppose I do sympathise brother…” she said striding to me and embracing me in perhaps the most genuine display of feelings I’ve ever seen from her.

“Don’t die, and if you do please make sure your body at least makes it back.”

I gave a stilted laugh in reply and nodded into her shoulder before we pulled away “You’re starting to sound like him.”

She also laughed, perhaps to help alleviate the emotion. She was cold, thats just how Dust always was, she, never dealt well with drama or emotion, I was thankful that this time she was at least trying her best to deal with it.

“I just don’t want the next letter I get from you to be some notice that you died out there in those...horrible mountains, I can’t bare the thought of your body rotting away in the darkness.” her voice carrying the few semblances of emotion she could convey in her limited capacity for sentimentality.

We walked in silence together away from the graveyard and our home for the last time as we headed back into town. Though she wasn’t the social type my sister did try her best to visit every shop and every old family friend as we headed back to the square, the mayor even agreed to meet her.

Much of the town had gathered to see her off. I was not lying when I said was the jewel of Darkwater Down, the one great success story from a town of farmers and scavengers, whose most notable features are a cloudy grey river that runs down from the Penumbra mountains and of course our now ruined graveyard.

Soon enough some garishly crimson carriage clattered its way into town. It was pulled by two stallions and on the roof sat a third stallion clad in some kind of poorly painted crimson red leather barding who leaned bored against a menacing machine gun attached the the roof of the carriage, the reins attached to the stallions who were pulling wrapped around his hooves.

With a flourish of feathers down came another figure. A huge light grey feathered griffin who had a mean look in her eye. Clasped in those sharp angry talons was a huge weapon. I recognised it as another machine gun of some sort, but a large one, much larger than the one on the roof of the carriage. Something no pony would ever be able to fire without proper equipment, and here she was carrying it in one hand. Her chest and legs were covered in dusty and scratched but still immaculate looking dark blood red combat armour with the same symbol printed on my sister’s cloak. a large red eye open wide and staring.

In these parts Griffins were as exotic as they come, those beastial and puissant framed predators sent shivers down my spine. The strength and ferocity radiating from her setting her leagues above us pitiful ponies. I remember being caught off guard the first time one ever spoke, they always seemed too mythical in my mind to be be real, too impressive to exist in the same world as I did.

Apparently she noticed me staring and turned away, making sure to give me an unwelcome look. My sister nodded to this griffin as she climbed in, giving this griffin appropriately named Longbow a thank you before she turned back to look at me.

“Give my regards to your boss.” I joked to her as she looked back.

She smirked and shook her head “I’ll do more than give my regards, I like to think myself a humble mare and I never ask master for much, but seeing as I have familial interest in the Rangers now, I’ll see what I can do to help out, surely when my master finds out the dire importance this wall and the Rangers represent for Equestria he will gladly find a way to assist.” she smiled tapping her nose with her hoof before climbing fully into the carriage “Farewell, and be safe little brother.”

And just like that the griffin closed the door with a slam leaning over and silently slapped the stallions pulling between their ears before she took flight and hovered over the cart watching intently as it rolled away from town and back south west toward Equestria proper.

I don’t know why my eyes watched the bodies of the stallions like they did. their bodies were bruised, up and down their broad backs were dozens and dozens of discoloured lines of ugly scarred flesh, their demeanors defeated and silent, perhaps even anxious and most definitely fearful.

They were thin too.

So very very thin.

******

It was raining when night fell. The tumultuous cascade of rain crashing down against the ground drowning out the ambience of the world, smothering my vision with sharp, smarting pellets of water, each splashing outward, like an armageddon of tiny mortar shells.

I was the only pony to be found at the small ramshackle shelter that night, there wasn’t a whole lot to see or do under there. As I waited for the carriage to arrive I kept my eyes occupied by staring at the drizzling column of water that manifested itself on the corner of the roof where the decades of water had rusted a hole right through the small carriage shelter’s gutter. The rain clattering noisily on the corrugated sheet metal roof over my head, the discordant rush of patterns with each strike of water causing the aged alloy to oscillate softly.

I had all but zoned out when I heard hoofsteps to my left, I blinked and pulled my head up and peered over to the sound. Barely audible over the skyfall around me.

Slowly approaching me was a old stallion. He wore a faded and tattered business suit which was horribly soaked from the rain. His old wispy grey mane was however remarkably dry under an even older and even more worn hat, and to top it all off he wore large black pair of tinted spectacles over his eyes as he hobbled toward me with a soft chuckle.

“Horrid weather to be waiting for a carriage isn’t it?” he questioned me as he approached.

I gave him an uninterested shrug in reply “Horribly dark to be wearing sunglasses isn’t it?”

His rough elderly voice chuckled warmly in response as he walked himself under the relative dryness of the old carriage shelter “What’s a young stallion like you doing out here on a night like this?”

I leaned back against the freezing cold sheet metal wall behind the bench as he joined me in the shelter “Same reason every other idiot comes to this shelter, to join the Rangers.” I shivered softly as I replied “No offense to you of course.”

He nodded and laughed again sitting down letting out a grunt of discomfort as his old knees bent.

“Admirable thing to do, joining the Rangers.” he said leaning into me with a warm smile. Despite his warmth there was something off putting about the old stallion, almost as if every action he made was a forgery or a lie.

“Thank you?” I said unsurely in response taking his compliment.

He sighed; his face shifting to look out over the streets, his old eyes presumably straining to see in the intense dark “My sons were all Rangers, they all left the same time to join on a night not to different to this.” he gave a weak smile. “Youngest was fifteen, eldest was twenty.”

I nodded, not really listening but trying my hardest to seem like I was. I had never met this senior gentlecolt in my entire life in this town but despite all that I didn’t want to appear rude.

“All seems so surreal doesn’t it?” he asked me, making me perk up. “Darkwater Down? Heck even most of the Ranger territory, seems so serene, almost like you could forget the end of the world even happened…”

I was beginning to wonder if the elderly stallion was going somewhere with his statement or had completely changed topics because he could tell I wasn’t really paying attention.

“Our crops rarely fail, the water is cleaner, the Rangers do a decent job of scaring the undesirable types away...almost as if the war never happened. In fact that attack last night was the worst thing to happen to this town in decades and even then everypony has practically forgotten it already.”

I nodded, this time however I was actually listening to him.

He chuckled “My sons died up there.” he said “And the strangest part of all is that it came as a shock to me, as if I had forgotten that my sons had all wandered off up into one of the most dangerous parts of these wastelands, it came as a genuine shock to me and my better half when those letters came.”

“Oh wow...I’m so sorry to hear that.” I managed to squeeze out. It didn’t do much to stop the brief pocket of awkward silence, both of us took a moment to enjoy the rain. A thankful reliever of the somber air between us.

“You know in some parts of the wasteland, foals are starving? That some settlements cannot grow enough food because the soil is toxic and the water impure? That in some parts of the wasteland, mares and foals are at the mercy of bloodthirsty raiders, vile mutants and slavers?” he laughed softly shaking his head “And here in Darkwater Down well, the biggest problem I faced today is that the bread was two caps more expensive than it was yesterday.”

He gave another grunt as he pulled himself to his hooves and stood up beside me. “Those comfortable years I spent raising my colts with my wife, made me forget that, It made me forget that up in those mountain highlands where I let my sons go, their lives are so...hopeless that they’d think my life was comparable to that of say pre-war Ponyville or Manehattan.” He grinned up at me, his matured eyes barely held the soft warmth of life, dimmed by too many winters, I felt it in the back of my head it wouldn’t be long before that flame faltered, and those lights would leave his eyes… like they did dad’s.

Before he moved he twisted his head around and took something in his pocket between his teeth before tossing it gently at me, the considerably heavy object fell into my lap, far faster than my horn could flare up to catch it in my magic.

It was a spark battery.

“My youngest once sent me back a letter saying that in some settlements up there, batteries are worth more than clean water.” he said pausing looking at me briefly “Never quite knew what he meant by that, he never said.”

I nodded weakly slipping the battery into my saddlebag slowly with my magic “Oh, well thank you, this means a lot to me.”

“Think nothing of it my boy, Don’t spend it all in one place.” he chuckled spinning around slowly in place before heading out into the rain once more, taking a right and slowly hobbling off down the street, vanishing quickly into the darkness.

Almost as soon as he left there came a collection of heavy hooves on pavement and the rumble of wheels as a carriage rolled up stopping at the shelter. One of the stallions pulling it, a large muscular stocky type wrapped up in an old faded a rain coat peered at me “Ashes I presume?” his deep voice boomed to me over the rain.

“The very same.”

He gestured weakly to the carriage he was pulling behind him and I quickly shot to my hooves and headed through the pouring rain over to the door and pulling the rusted and strained metal hinges open.

“Welcome to the Alwhinny Rangers kid.” he said with a weak but warm enough smile.

I climbed into the worn but still slightly regal interior sitting myself down on the plush leather seat sighing and letting my hind legs relax and stretch out in front of me.

As the carriage lurched forward, I noticed remarkably quickly how empty is was.

Book 1 - Chapter - 02

You eventually get used to the height.

These walls aren’t exactly massive, but in a world populated by toppled buildings and ruined towers, they were about some of the only tall buildings left standing in the world, and why shouldn’t they? If the walls to Penumbra fell, Equestria fell with it. At least that was the consensus in Ranger territory and in the garrison itself.

The air up here was clean and even with the thick layers of cloud locking away our sun it was still very bright, most of all it was peaceful. It almost made you forget that if you were to turn your head left you’d stare right into gateway to hell.

Because that's all the highlands are; Hell.

This far the effects were not that obvious but you could still see it if you tried. Between the massive jagged peaks and rugged bluffs that dotted the climbing highlands those thick and angry black clouds, you could even hear the clapping and roaring impure thunder and lightening from here.

I sucked in a deep breath in and immediately hacked and sputtered as an inconvenient waft of pungent cigarette smoke filled my nose, Lemon Zest my newest ‘friend’ of sorts had sparked up a poorly packed and scrunched up cigarette as we sat perched atop the domineering wall, looking down on the absolutely packed crumbling main road leading to the Alwhinny gates. The braziers and sulfur yellow lamps that gave illumination to the garrison beginning to be snuffed out and made redundant in the faint grey light of the early morning.

Tens, maybe Hundreds of merchants lined up to move their caravans outside of the gates of hell and into the real world in order to sell the horns of daemons to the ignorant and the foolishly curious.

The tightly grouped carriages groaning as the lofty chassis shifted and cargo rocked, the jolts from the sudden starts and stops making the rocking transports form a wave of sorts, however the carriages were vastly outnumbered by the droves of caravaneers and traditional pack mule traders flanking us, clamouring about their demographic markets, exchanging tips and hearsay, not to mention the sly swapping of caps for contraband that the road has come to be known for.

“Look how many of them have foals! why the hell is that?, who the fuck takes kids out into the Highlands?” Demanded Lemon Zest with furrowed brows, a not quite lanky not quite lithe buck, in the short time that I have known him he spoke with levity and jovially, his incessant knowing smirk made him dubious but likeable, he had that familiar glint in his eye of those who spend too much time in the Bazaar, like the sheen of polished caps was embedded in his iris. He took great care in his appearance, his light green mane stylishly unkempt, his bouncy fringe just coming short of his eyes, his youthful vibrant citrus yellow coat making his age difficult to discern.

There came a deeper masculine yet somehow exotic voice from behind us, The massive griffin shaped figure that was our commander stepped up behind us. Talc was his name, friendly enough and about reaching the point where you could consider him a Veteran Ranger, rumor had it that he was set to get a seat on the Ranger High Council. Titanic in stature, even for a griffin, his puissant, rigid frame spoke volumes about the beastial figure, it said ‘Killing is my business, and business is fucking booming.’

“Superstition, some say that foals can see through the eerie as if it weren’t even there.” He grumbled gruffly, sounding disinterested as he’d probably gave the same answer to the same shade of idiot that joins a thousand times over. Indifferently preening the feathers from his long chestnut brown and gold pinions and plumages with his sharp talons.

“Thats insane.”Lemon flatly stated with a deadpan expression” Nobody sees through the clouds, and even if they did what's the point? It's not like there is anything much hiding in the dark out there anyway,” Lemon Zest scoffed, sucking loudly on the butt of his rapidly shrinking smoke, the warm glow inside reducing it to a stack of ash a faint reminder of what I had left behind.

The griffin gave a booming bout of laughter and shook his head “You know I heard the veteran rangers say that it's that kind of thinking that gets greenhorns like you killed out there, Penumbra is nothing but superstition recruit, in some places they say the mountains drive you insane, in others they think the bulldozers are alive, without Superstition, Penumbra is just a really dark shithole on the edge of the world.” He spoke, thoroughly bemused by Lemon’s supposed ignorance enough to be roused from his state of disinterest.

“The Darkness is alive.” I shyly repeated the familiar adage in response as if it was a valid interjection into this conversation.

Our commander chuckled lightly and nodded his hulking avian head “Exactly, now get up and get your shit ready, the cart will be here soon.”

We did as we were told slinging our bags onto our backs and raising to our hooves to stand around and boredly watch down the length of the wall, the railway disappearing into the horizon The hoofcars loaded with rangers skirting the perimeter off to their distant destinations, rookies were the ones usually stuck working the pump as powered rail was too expensive to maintain, at best you could hope for one of those rare blessings of a small sputtering diesel engine mounted on the rear of a trolley.

“What are we even doing today sir?” I asked to the griffin who despite my height still towered over me.

“Darkwater Watch thinks they found a tunnel under the wall, looks like smugglers have been using it to dodge the gate and the taxes, Council thinks the garrison recruits like us need more field training and the Sapper intake needs actual work in the field so we’re meeting the Sapper - thats the engineer squad - for East Watch to go watch them plug up a hole under the wall.”

A pit opened up in my gut, a quickly bottled grievance spilled silently within me.

* * * * * * * *

There was a slight murmur from the handful of recruits that stood around waiting for the cart before another familiar voice spoke up, a softer feminine voice, bouncy and excitable. Margarine, an Earth Pony mare from some township near the Ponyville ruins, I don’t remember if she was actually named Margarine, she had some cutiemark that resembles a stick of butter so we just started calling her that.

“Darkwater Watch, the keen mind would guess that is the fortification nearest to Darkwater Down, thats where you’re from isn’t it Ashes?” She asked with that irrepressibly jaunty air about her, the thick tangerine coat and wildly fuzzy deep burnt orange curls made her look like a giddy filly cunningly masquerading as a full grown mare. Her warm smile and slightly cocked head adding to her aura of childlike wonderment and naivety

I nodded briskly, before I could even speak up Talc spoke for me “Yep, of course I don’t need to remind you all that Darkwater Down was attacked by some mutant about uh, month or two back? Well High Council has a very reasonable theory that this is how the thing got past the wall.”

I nodded a weakly, the reality that I could come face to face with something directly responsible for the death of my father was harrowing, I was all but lost in thought until Lemon elbowed me to snap me out of it offering that same coy smirk of his along with an affirming nod, before us along the rails there was a cart rumbling slowly up to us with a bored elderly looking stallion sitting up front on it, as the cart neared he pulled a lever back and put on the screeching breaks before twisting his body and spinning around on a swiveling chair to face the correct direction once we left for the way he came.

The cart was nothing special, in fact it was most likely not even originally on the wall, as time wearied the wall the Rangers were forced to patch it up, and without a nation and its industry to build the new materials to replace it, the Rangers had to do what they did best, improvise.

The cart looked to be a minibus of sorts with the roof sawn off, the seats replaced with bare metal benches, the wheels replaced with that of a train to allow it to sail along the metal rails.

Talc and the stallion at the engine shared nods as the griffin silently gestured for us all to climb aboard.

As we took our seats I relaxed my magic and let my rusted old standard issue bolt action rifle sit between my knees as Lemon Zest sat beside me on the bench, the cigarette still smoldering between those charismatic lips.

The bouncy mare Margarine sat behind us along with another mare I had never seen. While not exactly a large group, we were never together for long periods of time, given the small team nature of the Rangers.

Zest reached his hoof into his olive fatigue pocket and fished out the crumpled and ancient box of rolled tobacco, offering the mares, the recruits around us and even me one in his incorrigibly affable way.

I declined.

I stopped smoking when my father made me prepare a chain smoker’s body in the morgue.

The engine behind us spluttered to life and the cart lurched and began began to trundle back to the east, taking us to the small black stone castle that loomed over my home town of Darkwater Down, it had been months since I had even seen the town, let alone gone back, we had spent most of our training at the Alwhinny gates, learning how to shoot broken bottles and tie tourniquets beneath the shadow of the ungodly massive Lighthouse of the Sisters.

“Where did you even get cigarettes Lemon? These butts are filtered, they gotta be prewar” the mare I had never seen before in my life spoke up as she lit her own hundred millimeter long stick of moulded tobacco the sick grey smoke wafting up away from her dark mossy green coat and up over her long black mane that flowed around her tiny horn.

She had glasses of some sort that she wore over her vivid orange eyes, the left lens had a miniscule crack in them but for the most part they were immaculate, something you’d see in some prewar fashion magazine, they suited her well. She was decently attractive, the kind of mare you see at the tavern or the pubs and you delude yourself with liquid confidence into thinking you can end up in bed with them by the end of the night.

It made me suspect that maybe she didn’t even need the glasses, that maybe she wore them perhaps as a fashion statement.

I’d have to get her name soon, training was nearly over and we’d probably end up in separate squads.

The lemon yellow coated stallion nodded with a proud smirk “Good ol’ pappy sent them up last night, we got fucking boxes of them, about the only goddamn thing my father can sell in the shop these days, nobody else comes to our store anymore.”

I turned my head to him “You never speak much of home, why is that?” my curiosity piqued, I had spoken to Lemon at length about the most banal and innocuous shit, though he had the gift of livening any conversation, it was peculiar how little I actually knew of the stallion.

He shrugged “Dunno, guess because Berryripe Bleaks is pretty...bleak for lack of a better word, I mean its massive don’t get me wrong, being the first town on the road out of the Alwhinny gates does that but ever since the Vanity Bazaar set up shop in Berryripe, they strangled the shit out of the traders in town, my dad used to sell just about everything but ever since the Vanity Caravans showed up in town, only way he’s been able to make money is by selling crates of cigarettes, ironically to the fucking leeches.

Apparently they don’t have smokes in the Highlands. Or at the very least, busy blowing all their own smokes up their asses.”

I nodded losing myself in thought again. The Vanity Bazaar never set up in Darkwater Down, perhaps a town near the East Coast was much too far away from their prefered trading routes, they usually led their caravans straight to Equestria proper. They passed by from time to time but never much more than that.

The only Zebra I had ever seen was with the Vanity Bazaar, she was this thin and tall elderly mare who set her cart up in the market.

When my colt aged self wasn’t staring at her stripes in awe I sat down in front of her stall all day, she told me every kind of story you can imagine about the Highlands, the mountains and the towns between those hellish peaks.

The Rangers garrisoned in town shot her for smuggling refined Eerie that same night, why anybody would want to buy that shit is beyond me but apparently there's a market for it somewhere. Should probably ask Lemon about it sometime, guy seems like he has the family ties to know about that kinda stuff.

The bleak drained colour of the wasteland rolled past as I let my eyes rest, a weak gaze projecting out, overlooking the hills and horizon as it gently panned passed. The unyielding wall to my left, the expansive nothingness to my right.

Traveling by the wall top railways was by no means something to hold to any impressive standard, it was however fast for Wasteland standards, a straight railway that rolls along a mountainside is much faster than walking the way on some decrepit crumbling road.

There came a screech of metal on metal as the brakes were put on and the cart lurched forward as it’s momentum was suddenly denied, we eventually rolled to a halt beside a few bored looking rangers on garrison duty at one of the elevator stations. Most of them sat perched around on ruined deck chairs or sitting on their ammo crates, they wearily waiting for action that never came.

One of them pulled herself to her hooves and lazily saluted Talc striding over to the elevator controls as Talc ushered us all into the tight cabin which as soon as the gates closed began to lurch down toward the earth once more, my stomach rose into my throat from the initial speed but I got used to it quick enough. Thankfully the bases along the forest’s rim were still structurally sound, they see the least of the action and as such have least amount of stuff constantly breaking down.

The thrill of touching real dirt for the first time in days was sullied quickly by the fact that the Recruit Sapper intake was late, we walked a ways east more to our destination, nestled between two trees and the ruin of a prewar cart was a large tunnel bored right under wall.

It was quite large, about two stallions tall and wide enough for a cart. It was difficult to believe a bunch of thugs could even carve something like this out, there was thousands of rumours in circulation about the abyssal veins that led into the pitch blackness, some say there are armies of slaves chipping docilely away to their master's bidding, others say they're old shelters and smuggling routes from before the war, others even say they're cleaved by a giant worm thrashing under the tainted Penumbra soil as the Eerie that birthed it sears its flesh.

My eyes were glued to that inky blackness the whole time we waited the rush of anxiety I felt coming from years and years of being told the old ghost stories about the tunnels under the wall, regardless of the mystery of their formation, some say they're haunted by sickly ghouls and insectal mutants, there was even a story about dozens of rangers tangled in large webs, slowly feasted upon by the insect life burrowing alongside the cavities us ponies carved out, I was only able to pull my gaze away when the Sappers arrived.

The Sapper intakes were obviously much smaller as it was a more specialised role, but I did not envy them, they had to carry so much equipment then the rest of us and in this case had to haul a cart with a hoofful of pony sized machines. Our one branch not expected to fight, but still possess the highest kill counts per head, Sappers were in charge of establishing and maintaining the expansive minefields and traps inside the walls, due to the massive amount of land and distinct shortage of troops it was vital to the Rangers that they could funnel beasts and anything else down a narrow corridor of fire, not to mention to impede smuggling and give our guys safe avenues of entry and exit. Sappers were also in charge of production of flares, chemlights, explosives, weapon maintenance, equipment maintenance, quartermasters, and a plethora of other duties.

They were lead by a very old stallion, his mane and facial hair totally grey and his body frail looking, to his credit he was doing an excellent job of making himself look not frail, in the way he purposefully marched and carried himself, his posture pushing his chest and shoulders out, he must’ve been, at one point, quite the formidable workhorse.

The elderly stallion and Talc shared a short conversation, hooves and talons pointed before they nodded in mutual understanding, the two parting and our griffin leader walking back to us “Right, to start, Margarine, Allure, Copper Coin and Worn Jacket, you’re going into the tunnel to watch over the Engineers, every hour when the Sapper’s shift out you will too, I’d say some bullshit like we need to train you to operate in tight quarters but it is honestly more because the Sappers need more flashlights in there, the rest of you will guard this entrance on sort of a pseudo break until we shift roles.”

Allure. So thats what her name was.

There were nods, acknowledgements and salutes before Talc led the group over as they assisted the sappers in lowering down the machines and tools before one by one my comrades disappeared into the inky black tunnel, as if the highlands themselves were swallowing them whole, the darkness was pushed away vaguely as lights were switched on and headlamps activated but it was still quite worrisome how eagerly the dark ate the light away.

Eventually Talc reemerged from the tunnel, flicking the light on his breast pocket off with a talon and heading out to join us as we did the other thing the Rangers were good at, sitting around doing nothing.

We played cards briefly but that ended as soon as we realised there wasn’t a complete deck, Lemon Zest swore up and down there was but we gave up on that. Conversation however took an interesting turn as the subject again switched back to the Vanity Bazaar.

“You’d think with reknown for being so organised, the Vanity Bazaar would sell a full pack of fucking cards.” I mumbled irately, tossing mine back at Lemon Zest.

Talc scoffed and shook his head “Please, the bazaar like to pretend they’re organised, that badge looks really good next to the ‘free market capitalism’ one they like to wear around too." the griffin began. “Don’t let the glamor of the rich ones fool you, Vanity Bazaar territory, is a fucking nightmare, they like to hide that behind a curtain of ‘Clean drinking water and electricity’ but the lie is there to see if you try.”

His voice was sullen and laden with the lead in one’s throat when speaking of something damaging, it didn’t take long for me and Lemon Zest to realise he wasn’t speaking from theory and and he was in fact deep within his own painful ruminations.

“Sure you can buy batteries and water cheap, energy is plentiful in the Bazaar, but it doesn’t stop there, you can walk another two floors down and buy a slave or two, work or pleasure, the cartels don’t care what you need them for.”

Me and Lemon remained silent and let him talk.

“You want to know a funny story?” he began standing up from his seated position “When I was still an egg, I was sold in the Vanity Bazaar as a ‘dragon egg’ and some rich prick bought me and took me outside the wall.” he laughed weakly “Sat me under a lamp in a display cabinet by accident, which was enough to incubate me, and then I hatched out.”

The old griffin chuckled lightly as he reminisced to himself “He was more angry that the seller at the Bazaar had lied to him more than the fact I wasn’t a dragon.” he sighed strangely content, his head cocking to listen to the tunnel a puzzled look on his face.

I heard it too, evidently so did Lemon Zest, we all peered curiously toward the darkness of the tunnel.

It sounded like panicked yelling.

“Grab your fucking rifles.” Talc ordered sternly, his demeanour shifting suddenly, a massive gust sweeping over me and Lemon as he thrust into the air and landed with a heavy thump at the rim of the thick darkness, Lemon hurriedly followed suit, his ancient battle saddle mechanically clacking and rasping to life as he levelled his own equally antiquated rifle at the gaping void below

I galloped frantically to Talc, the puissant griffin butting me backward with his elbow “Keep spacing.” he hissed angrily, I cast a glance to the lithe jovial buck across from me, there was a tremble in his frame, I held the long amalgamation of cast iron and plywood in the thin layer of my magic, sighting the chasmal void below. As if my bullets would be absorbed into the black mass of darkness.

Inside the maw of the tunnel I could see the beams of flashlights glinting and the sounds of thudding hooves on soil. Something was galloping right for us.

I kept a tight hold on my rile, keeping my magic off trigger just as I had been trained, lining the circle of black beneath me between the points of sharp iron on the upper side of my rifle.

The lights whipped around wildly in the darkness, rapidly becoming more and more intense until a band of a dozen, panicked ponies madly dashed from the dense blackness, eyes dilated in fear and their coats caked in sweat, our guys. Some had even discarded their weapons in the frantic stampede.

Many heaved hoarsely, keeled over as they fought to catch their breath, others cheeks’ were bloated outward, faces purple as they frightfully held in their breaths, toppling to the ground once in the embrace of daylight, panting weakly as they collectively greedily sucked in oxygen.

One by one more rangers poured out from the tunnel, like blood droplets spurting from a vein, until finally our own squadmates emerged, Worn Jacket came first, then came Copper Coin.

The elderly stallion leading the Sappers emerged last, at a brisk marching pace, a scowl plastered over his face, accompanied by the mare from the trolley, Allure.

“Don’t dawdle! this ain’t no goddamn snow day recruits, get your masks on and back into the tunnel we don’t go back until this job is done!” the old buck barked angrily.

Talc helped the elderly stallion up with his massive muscular arm “What's going on down there?”

The elderly stallion was panting too, his chest heaving as he let himself relax “Well first I smelled blood, then we found two decomposed corpses they looked nearly a month or two old, easy” he began, spitting onto the dead grass under his hooves, “poor fuckers must have been sneaking under the tunnel when that mutant came through” he chuckled “Then we found an upturned cart, when I checked the bags I was pleasantly surprised to see they were smuggling bales of Eerie on their cart, so I ordered everybody out to get their masks on so we can continue.”

Talc looked concerned but I could see he was at least relieved it was not something more serious.”That could have been bad, do we need to call up a medic, did anybody inhale it?”

The old stallion shook his head “Not that I know of, the Eerie was in bales and it looked like what had been kicked up when the cart was shoved over has settled weeks ago.”

Talc nodded easing his arm down and letting the frightening hunk of shotgun shaped steel rest lower “Thank Celestia for that.”

There came a worried voice beside me, I was surprised to see it came from Lemon Zest “Uh...Captain?”

Talc looked at him with a sigh of relief, his plumage ruffling. “Where is Margarine?”

As I heard the bouncy filly’s name I looked around, looking at the mossy green coat of Allure and then to the dirty blue fur of Worn Jacket.

My heart leapt into my throat, we were indeed missing a certain burnt orange mare and her childish voice.

I glanced back to our glorified foalsitter, Talc softly muttering to himself as he did a quick head count, a grimace coming over him as he swore loudly, striking the dirt under us with a sharp thwack of his beastial shotgun, “Celestia fucking damn it!” he roared incensed beyond reason.

“Lemon, Ashes!” he barked sharply, causing us both to jump in fright, his colossal wing span shooting outward with a loud rush of air, flapping those powerful appendages as he hovered several feet above us, “Mask the fuck up, that fucking dolt ran the wrong way. You idiots chase her down, now! I’m cutting her off from the other side.” he ordered us sternly, nervous nods of compliance as he launched himself into the air, soaring over the wall and into the deadlands beyond.

It took a minute for me and Lemon to really register what happened but sure enough we blinked and both yanked our masks out of our saddle bags, with my magic I pulled the latex mask over my face and fitting it snugly on and jumping down into the ditch with Lemon.

My breath laboured through the thick filter as we flipped our meagre UV lights on and ran into the blackness of the tunnel. The strikes of our boots on the rough dirt echoing around the cylindrical cavern, making it seem like a small mob of rangers was stampeding boldly downward into the impermeable blackness.

As the light from the outside disappeared the sound grew louder and more alien, the whistling of our masks as we panted into them running through into the tunnel reverberated just as loud as our hooves crashing against the gravel and soil did.

I looked to the other end of the tunnel, right into the white light that betrayed the way out of this darkness, I moved so that the light sitting on my shoulder shone forward to illuminate the dark as best it could, however even still it only breached less than twenty feet of the void before me.

She wasn’t in here.

Ahead of us was two corpses, long since dead and rotted away as we galloped over the top of them I couldn’t help but stare at them. They were disgusting fetid rotted masses, still not rotted fully away, their flesh a sickly wet leather texture, their insides still glossy from the liquid and fluid still rotting festering away within. The home of several generations of mouths and centipedes to come.

They were nowhere near their cart, they had died with their heads to the exit we had just entered from. Whatever killed them, cut them down as they ran for their lives. The colossal trenches gouged in their backs and flanks, shredding their cutie marks and exposing their spines, the flaps of ruinous skin dancing in the soft breeze within the tunnel.

Even with the mask. Knots binded within my stomach.

We moved further and soon enough we were on upon the cart itself, it was a simple wooden carriage about a stallion’s length and about half that in width, on the floor scattered around the base of the carriage they once rode upon was about half a dozen or so hessian bags, one or two of them were torn open revealing their contents.

I had never seen refined Eerie before in my life. It was such a bizarre sight, it looked almost like dark grey or purple colour, my mind could only think of it as some nightmarish cotton candy wrapped up tight with cables in a vaguely square shape.

The Bales were nearly invisible in the dark, I noticed as I shone my light on it that the bales of the dark purple otherworldly cotton candy consumed the light I shone on it hungrily almost as if the material was absorbing the light that touched it.

The freakish bales of wispy midnight purple fibre were nearly invisible in the dark, even as they gave off their unsettling gloss coating, as if a tangled mesh of fiberglass, the errant beams of light that hit it seemingly piercing right through it, like the light ended where the surface of it began, consuming the smarting violet light.

We rushed past it quickly, our hooves rumbling against the ground as we hurried as fast as we could down the last sixty or so feet remaining in the tunnel.

We wasted no time skirting it, the surfeit of nightmarish tales about those who even spend time around the precious mineral vividly recalled in my mind as we rushed onward, on toward that distant spark of daylight.

The light at the end of the tunnel was blinding, when we emerged, it was difficult to not use an analogy for an alien world.

I nearly tripped when the texture of the floor changed beneath my thundering hooves. Going from gravel to a smooth albeit dirty and grime layered granite tile floor

Lemon and I came to a screeching halt on the floor as we twisted our masked faces around. We were half looking for Margarine and half trying figure out where it was exactly we had exited.

We were in some mind of ancient bathroom, a change room it appeared, the inky black hole tucked neatly in the centre of the rear wall.

As we briskly continued our light gallop out of the changing room we saw some of the obscuring walls to ward off peeping toms had been hastily sledgehammered over to make the doors wider, I could only guess to fit the smuggling carts into the building and through it's hallways.

We exited the winding halls into a massive room which buried in the floor featured a huge fifty metre long competition pool which besides the large puddle of collected rainwater, now foul from an eternity of stillness; was now dry.

The northmost wall had long since collapsed into a pile of crumbling rubble, revealing the grey and gloomy world that was the other side of the Alwhinny wall.

Lemon Zest pulled his mask up, letting the complex contraption of latex, valves and filters become his hat as he flicked his ears and peered around the room and especially out the hole in the wall.

"Do you think that's wise?" I remarked gesturing my head to his mask.

He shook his head in reply taking a deep slow breath "Eerie clouds never come this far out from the highlands, only thing we have to worry about with this far from the peaks is thieves, raiders and other shit that bullets can easily persuade."

I nodded slipping my own mask off with my magic and letting it hang by its straps, dangling on the rear of my head.

The sound of our hooves as we slowly moved around the pool was deafening, the tall ceiling and thick concrete walls bounced the sound right back into our ears as we paced toward the collapsed wall.

Once we reached it me and my companion peered around the outside. I would be lying if I said it wasn’t terrifying to me, this was the first time I had ever been on the other side of the wall. Sure I had seen it from atop the wall, but from up there it was different. From atop the wall penumbra was more akin to an ant farm or some zoo attraction.

This was different, now I was in the antfarm.

It felt wrong. It looked wrong. It smelt wrong.

The grass looked more grey, more gloomy and more dead than on the other side, the air was thicker. My chest was tight as if something inexplicable was pressing gently on it, soft enough to evade your notice but tight enough to deprive you of precious oxygen.

“Look there she is!” Lemon remarked loudly elbowing me quickly in the side snapping me out of my panicked thoughts.

He lifted his left leg and pointed ahead to a small ruined office looking building in the middle distance something I can presume given the size of this small town was probably what this ruin had once tried to pass off as a town hall.

Sure enough on the ground floor there was the almost indistinguishable shape of pony entering into the front foyer.

“How the fuck did she get so far ahead?” Lemon questioned quietly.

I shook my head and began to gallop hard “Who cares, come on we need to catch the idiot before she walks any further into the goddamn Highlands.”

Lemon blinked as I rushed ahead breaking out the ruined wall and out into the long dead long abandoned grass courtyards besides the community pool we exited from. I looked back briefly at the building as we galloped over the dead dry grass.

It was about ten or so metres from the wall. Behind it was a rusted and partially collapsed barbed wire fence that seemed to mark a five or so metre exclusion zone, from my training I remember hearing that the entire exclusion zone was a thick and well maintained minefield recently installed in an attempted to cut down on wall tunnelers, which didn’t work for long the, smugglers just started digging further and deeper to get under the wall.

I swung my head around to look forward at the office block we were rushing to.

I don’t know why I found myself gazing at all the buildings that that we rushed past but I caught sight of a decaying billboard perched atop what was now a long closed clothing store. The once presumably adorable foal and filly cartoons winked playfully at the camera as they held aloft in their hooves two cartoonish looking gas masks, drawn in such a way that it was obvious the artist had tried as hard as he or she could to make the normally cold and imposing looking pieces of military hardware as friendly and welcoming as they could.

There was in big red and yellow text beside them a warning thinly veiled as a child friendly jingle

“When the fog is thick with purple and black, wear a mask or don’t come back!”

It almost sent a chill up my spine as we rushed past, it was a sobering thought to remember once long ago this was a community, a town of ponies trying to make a life for themselves when the world ended all around them. Its terrifying to think the Eerie used to come down this far from the mountains let alone the fact that these survivors were spared the horror of the bombs, only for the horror to come to them.

It made me shiver, to think that at some point horrible abominations warped from the smog and the radiation once they had feasted on the stranded miners and soldiers clawed their way down the mountain hungering for more.

We were about a block away from the town hall when I heard Lemon Zest give a yelp of surprise. “Goddess damn it all, it was just her…look Ashes” he grumbled before pointing up at one of the second floor windows.

I came to a halt soon after and looked up myself the sight made me jump too. There Margarine stood looking down at us from the window. Something was off about her however, her nose dribbled blood and her eyes were sunken and bloodshot like she had been crying. All the while she projected a toothy and thoroughly menacing grin. Worst of all she stared right at me.

“Margarine! What the fuck are you doing? Come down from there, you’re going to get yourself killed out here!” Lemon yelled to her from behind me.

I however didn’t speak, her eyes gazed harshly into mine, like she was searching for something, probing my very soul with the the curiosity and wonderment of a foal discovering something for the first time.

She let out a soft giggle and began to step back before she turned herself around and began to walk back into the building.

“Margarine wait!” I yelled.

She didn’t react.

“Mother fucker…” Lemon grumbled as he galloped past into the dark entrance of the town hall.“Come on Ashes, before she gets herself killed!”

I followed quickly after, I couldn’t shake how she had looked at me, that gaze was menacing, unnatural, a warped and unfriendly look forced upon her like a puppeteer was pulling some invisible string above her.

We rushed into the lobby and looked around for some kind of staircase. Indeed there was a staircase located on the back wall in the dead centre leading up to some hidden second floor.

To our right was a small receptionist desk with a long dead computer sitting quietly atop the decaying wood.

We both ignored it and rushed upstairs, our hooves thundering on wood that creaked and groaned in stress as we pushed forward, rushing up the the second floor and taking a moment to look around again. It appeared as if the stairs continued up to the third floor.

Before us was a long hallway with two doors on either side of the walls that ran parallel to each other they had presumably once held name tags on them but one had since fallen off. The other one the door on the right specifically; proclaimed it was once a meeting room. A part of me wanted to take the time to explore but every other part of me reminded me that now was not the time for that.

At the end of the hallway was the window that Margarine was looking at us from.

Lemon thought briefly before giving me a weak shrug “You keep going upstairs, I’ll check these rooms.” he said yelling back to me as he rushed into the hallway, pushing the door to the unmarked room open and moving inside.

He of course didn’t really give me much time but I agreed and began to head upstairs, the pathetic light inside the building prompting me to switch my flashlight attached to my shoulder on as I headed up to the third floor.

There was a wall with an open door a few feet ahead of me, I trotted slowly up to it and peered in.

In the far corner by an open, crumbling window frame was the olive garbed frame of Margarine, gazing pensively out the window toward the towering grey monolith of the wall before her with a distinct anxiety ridden expression. By her side sat an ancient and rotted rosewood nightstand, atop that an even more ancient ceramic bowl filled with dozens of glittering glass orbs that absorbed and reflected the meager light filtering in from the open window that Margarine stood before.

I couldn’t even finish opening my mouth to speak to her, she swivelled her head around and cut me off in a trembling, worrisome voice.

“Y-You shouldn’t be here…” she mumbled to me not bothering to look me in the eye, staring at the cracked tiles at my hooves.

My stride was halted mid-step as she addressed me, caught off-guard, bewildered and confused as to what caused this trepidation to come over her, “What?” I spat out, cocking my head. “None of us should be, we’re beyond the fucking wall, you, bolted here.” I asserted sternly, the sweat that caked my frame cooling uncomfortably in my fatigues.

She angled her chin higher, a small tremble in the action, like a rusted, lethargic mechanism coming to life. Her expression of pained anxiety worsening, like a needle was slowly being pushed between her shoulder blades, her eyes sullen and dejected “It… knows your name Ashes, i-it said it…”

My stride towards her halting again as soon as I touched the crunching, frail tiling under hoof. A pain developed behind my left eye, a pinch in the nerve that turned into a shiver as it slithered down my spinal column. A tension developing in my chest muscles, a familiar uneasy one. She was poisoned, mind tinged blurry with exposure to those sinister bales. Auditory hallucinations, textbook effects of Eerie exposure.

I took on a softer, more coaxing tone “Marge. Please. It’s just your head, a little Eerie you huffed just rattled your wits is all. Come on, please, we can get you back to Talc and you can sleep it off.” taking tentative steps closer to the startled mare.

As I edged nearer she reared up in a panicked outburst, stumbling backward and thrashing her hooves, a shower of flaking plaster and crumbs of a decaying wall pouring over her as she landed against it, “N-no! Ashes it wants YOU to go away, it’s telling you to leave, y-you gotta leave!” she sputtered, her chest rising and falling rapidly as it pumped like a wild piston. Accelerated heart rate, lapse in rational thought, paranoia. She was enduring quite the dosage.

I halted again, my own… relaxing mind almost heeding the frightened mare, shaking off my own instinctual compulsion to listen to her, we were still in ranger held territory. Nothing could harm us here. Her mind was a scrambled mess, she’d have to be forcibly brought back...

“No- Ashes- N-No!” she squealed, backpedaling frantically into the wall, her blood-shot eyeballs swivelling around in their sockets as she looked for a way to impede me, her eyes fixating on the nightstand she let out a discordant screech and bolted for it, pivoting and bucking sharply with her thick hindhooves, toppling the nightstand and sending the brittle glass contents of the frail ceramic bowl towards me.

Reflexively my magic flared just as I reared up to shield myself, my magic clumsily trying to yank the spray of projectiles flying towards me as they clattered against my frame, driving the air from my lungs.

Dull thumps followed by searing cuts rushed across me, as my magic halted one, through my magic I could feel the cold, smooth finish of its glassy surface before my vision burst into a blinding white, all audio subdued into a grating white noise. The last sensation I felt being a hot burning all along my body as I crashed into the ground and lapsed into unconsciousness.

ooo000ooo

Suddenly I was upright again sitting down at a desk. The first thing I noticed was the colour, It felt like my eyes wanted to strain but they didn’t. I had never seen such vivid colour before in my life. The air was clean too, so clean you could barely notice it as it flooded your lungs.

Thats when I first realised I wasn’t in control here. Part of my brain was in a total panic once it learned that my breathing pattern was not what it should be, I was suffocating!

I tried to take in a gulp of air but that desire was only half fulfilled. I could feel my mind screeching in agony as it tried to rationalise what was happening. I felt dizzy, I wanted to throw up, in fact I’m not entirely convinced my mind gave the order but no matter what I wanted my body refused. There was no lurching in my stomach, no need felt to purge up the contents of my stomach.

In fact I felt healthier than normal.

I wanted to look down, to take in more sights and try make sense of this mess but again my mind fired off useless orders to move a body that ignored it. My head didn’t move, nor did my eyes. They were glued to the screen of a terminal that hummed weakly as its fans cooled it and it’s screen glowed a gentle green.

The screen displayed a page, something I identified easily enough as a news bulletin. In big bold letters atop the screen there was a proud proclamation.

“STRIPES HELD AT DEVIL’S CROOK RIDGE: INVASION HALTED!”

I didn’t get much time to read however as there came a resounding and piercing buzz from beside me. I felt my ear flick toward it as my mind was once more sent into a frenzy as my head and eyes moved without my orders to look at a small telephone sitting on the desk. Again that feeling of wanting to throw up but not being able to reared its ugly head as a distinctly feminine rose pink hoof reached out and tapped a large button in the corner.

“What is it?” a soft spoken and feminine voice sounded out. I was filled with even more subconscious confusion as this happened, I felt my lips move, my tongue shift and sound the vowels, I could feel my vocal chords vibrate in my throat all without a single order from my mind.

“That Representative from the Ministry of Arcane Science is here for your ten AM meeting” another distinctly female voice spoke through the tinny speakers of the phone.

“Good send him in.” my not voice replied.

Her body moved back and forth, her hips twisting in her chair as she made a pathetic attempt to make her desk look nice by shifting papers and moving cluttered objects around as a slowly increasing set of hoofsteps approached the door and knocked gently.

The mare spoke up again “Come in.”

One after another the steps gave away and in came a very impeccably dressed unicorn stallion. He appeared to be aging, middle aged or perhaps older. He looked very typical of a salary stallion except for the presence of a well armed guard who looked into the room angrily before closing the door behind the stallion as he sat down on the chair before him after receiving a silent offer from this mare I was now in control of.

“I trust you know why you’re here Mister Solitude.”

He gave a cocky smirk as got comfortable in his chair looking back at the mare “Well I was told that the Mayor of the wonderful small town of Ablestride was complaining about smog and lowe and behold, here I am on a beautiful day, Celestia has sure done her best to give us a fantastic Spring morning.”

I could feel her clench her teeth “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t patronise me Mister Solitude, you and your Ministry know exactly what the hell I’m talking about.”

He rolled his eyes and sighs “Mrs Bastion, oh is it still Mrs...I hear you go by Miss now?” he said with a smile worth a thousand insults This Bastion Mare tensed up even more and was clamping her teeth so hard they were starting to ache.

“Is that how your Ministry teaches you to act in Professional meetings, with childish insults?” she replied.

He shook his head with a grin “Oh course, just a matter of...personal curiosity is all.” he laughed in such a way that I could only just hear how fake it was “Now on this Smog business? There is no such thing, the black clouds you are referring to are as the Ministry has said several times, wind currents blowing the gas attacks occurring from Zebra shells at Devils Crook Ridge, the Ministry of Wartime Technology has I believe been referring to it as “The Killing Smoke.”

She smacked her hoof on her desk and growled at him “The Zebra haven’t used a single gas weapon at at Devils Crook, you and I both know that Solitude, anybody who has any interest in that battle knows that!”

He smirked “Now Mrs Bastion, forgive my ignorance but what could a young respectable mare such as yourself possibly know what is going on at the frontlines of The Ridge?”

I could feel her teeth clamp up again, deep down in her stomach a pit opened wide as she relived a memory that I wasn’t able to see. I could feel the muscles on her face stretch to give an angry glare and I could even feel tears begin to well up in her eyes.

The Stallion shook his head and sighed “Okay, perhaps you MIGHT be wary to the goings on at Devils Crook Ridge, but this is the end of the line here Miss Bastion, perhaps the smog isn’t a Zebra weapon and perhaps it has been fabricated merely as a means to conveniently cause more outrage for the Zebra invasion however for the good of yourself and for the good of what remains of you family, I suggest you keep these findings to yourself.”

The stallion stood up and dusted his suit off “The MInistry of Morale has a very effective track record of...shutting mares like yourself up.” he said, his cheerful and cocky facade dropping quickly. “The concern of these ‘black clouds’ is STRICTLY the concern of the Ministries as of now and the MInistries do not take kindly to ponies so brazenly cluttering up their concerns.”

The stallion looked down at his watch before peering up again “Concerning you and of course your safety Miss Bastion, I suggest that you do your best to take the MInistries advice and prepare and act on these Zebra gas attacks as best as you can.”

The stallion pulled the door open with his magic, his bodyguard peering around to look into the office, shooting this mare known as Bastion a glare “Now Miss Bastion, sorry to cut our meeting short but I must go.” Solitude said. his fake smile returning “Do not make me come back here again.”

The door was slammed and hooves began to stomp away as the mare growled, I could feel her magic flare up as she yanked a drawer open, reaching inside with her magic and taking out a small pen and a small notepad, flipping it open to a blank page before beginning to write.

Memory #33

Solitude arrives at my office after I requested to speak to him (see orb #30) Insulting tone, threatens me and my family after I expose this little “Zebra Gas Attack” nonsense for what it is.

She let go of her magic opening another drawer and taking out a small glass orb, my vision began to fade to white as I could feel her begin to cast a powerful spell.

ooo000ooo

The white faded away into grey and muted black. That overwhelming feeling of wellness and healthiness was gone.

I think it was safe to say I was back to my old aching unhealthy self.

My ears were ringing and my head spun around inside itself. Dizzy and disorientated all I could register was the muffled sounds of yelling and dull thumps and cracks of noise.

The steady painful drumbeat inside my skull that was my pulse stung me every other second, each smarting pulse ordering me to breathe, breathe. As my senses recuperated and light poured in through the thin gaps between my eyelids, I greedily sucked in the assuaging air in great heaves, the dingy, polluted and metallic tasting air more refreshing than ice water under oppressive summer heat.

I don't think I will ever be able to explain to you how relieving it is after spending minutes without control of your own breathing to suddenly regain that agency. Revitalising, liberating and empowering all at once to simply be able to respire.

The splendour of sentience once more was short lived, as the numbness dispersed the overwhelming sickness returned, my stomach was knotted up so tight in my gut I thought it rip apart inside me like an overly wrung rag, rolling meekly onto my side, my throat convulsed and sputtered up what acidic remains there was in my stomach up onto the ground before me. My senses painfully aware of the sour, revolting residual taste and the pungent smell.

My eyes rolled around freely in my sockets, fighting for my bearings they lulled to the ground, my frame solely supported by a trembling forehoof I gazed confusedly downward to the debris under me, taking critical moments to reintegrate myself with reality.

My hearing bleed back slowly, I heard a noise, a yell perhaps, but very near me. A hoof yanked me backwards, a face appeared, a feminine face.

This face was dark purple one with big green glittering eyes looked angrily into mine, in her teeth was a flashlight at glared bright painful light into my eyes making them ache and blink.

As I caught more and more of my consciousness I took her in as much as I could. She was short, a lot shorter than me, she had long a long curly dark magenta mane tied back in a neat regulation style. If I didn't feel so unwell I'd probably go so far as to say she was unbelievably attractive which gave me the suspicion that I was hallucinating some ethereal spirit helping me.

Until she gave me a sharp slap on the cheek.

She nodded repeatedly to herself, mumbling distractedly around her flashlight before spitting it onto the ground. She craned her hips around and buried her head into an awaiting medical satchel. rummaging hastily through it as I lay dazed.

She was not wearing the recruit fatigues, she was sporting a set of charcoal black veteran ranger fatigues with a thin cream yellow trim and around her upper forehooves a same creamy yellow band that sported a big bright pink butterfly.

A stallion galloped past, another veteran ranger. He was elderly but tall and muscular, a proud and powerful figure of a warrior. He stopped and turned to his left briefly to look at the Earthpony medic that knelt beside me.

"...gonna be okay?" I could manage to hear past my muffled hearing.

The mare nodded to him, not bothering to look him in the eye "He's fine; just took a knock to the head and he’s in shock, nothing I can't fix."

"What about the filly that was with him?"

The purple coated mare looked up, this time looking to address her a comrade with a sullen shake of her head "She's a goner, unless we can find a lot more HP Cotton and Health Potion then I have, and that's not even getting started she needs a major eerie flush and even then she's fucked unless I can get her a harmony potion to stop her seizures, and they don't come in any medic kits I have."

The older stallion looked at her with a sullen stare urging her on as if to beg her to try.

The mare sighed and shook her head "I'll try Speak, but don't get your hopes up."

It was difficult to see on the black but as it stained the yellow trim you could see that she was covered in somepony else's blood, all up her hooves and around her chest. I remember reading in a book as a colt that Ranger veterans wore black so "None would ever see a Ranger of Alwhinny bleed."

She shifted back and shoved a dull blue vial of potion that swirled with an otherworldly black spiral into my mouth and tipped it up forcing me to drink.

It tasted an awful lot like dirt mixed with some kind of disgusting menthol paste.

The moment it touched my tongue I blacked out, the lights in my head dimmed and the world darkened. Just as I was enveloped in the blackness did I return, jolting upright, like a shotgun starter went off in my brain, I was revived fully, cleared from the mental haze I was trapped in.

The potion had reset my senses, wiped clean the fog around my mind.

With my senses back I suddenly realised the extent of the pandemonium around me. The air was thick with burnt gunpowder, there was yelling all around.

We were on a rooftop, across from us was that same billboard from before, my best guess was that we still in the town hall except now we were on the roof.

The medic smiled and gave me another slap on the cheek before she yanked her saddlebag filled with medical supplies and threw it over her body "Welcome back to the world of the living Greeny." She said with a smile "Grab your rifle and start shooting anything not pony shaped." She said pushing herself up to her hooves and rushed over to my right.

Propped against the lip of the wall bordering the roof was the slumped body of Margarine. Her nose was bleeding profusely, the crimson cascaded painted the bottom of her face and neck red, and had stained her fatigues a disgusting rusty brown.

At first glance I thought she was dead, but, as I looked closer she was giving slow and heaving breaths. The figure of the mare rushed up to her lifting Margarine's chin with a hoof, talking to her quietly. Margarine's eyes bloodshot and sunken, lazily gazed back at the mare talking to her.

I looked away and saw the figure of Lemon Zest, he sat atop the bordering retaining wall of the roof, his whole body angled downward as he aimed his rifle, a tall flare of fire and a loud crack resounded out. My eyes followed the ancient clockwork as the machine bolted to the saddle on his back diligently shifted back and forth, working the bolt action of the rifle.

So much effort went into just making it possible for an Earthpony to shoot a rifle, and this wasn't even the most complex you could get, some had small logistics matrix hooked up to gimbals so the frame the rifle sat upon could shift independently of body and aim at a specific target.

I looked around for a rifle as I made my way to the lip. Sure enough there was a faded bolt action rifle leant against the wall.

I let my magic flare up and yank the weapon toward me as I galloped up beside Lemon Zest.

All around us were a horde of bounding figures, they looked like a mix between a dog and a rat, their faces pointed to a small nose and two angry looking mangled teeth. Their eyes were a beady red and brown and their fur a marred and grimey. Many screeched and barked but others bounded into the air and circled around the building staring angrily and hungrily at us.

"Fucking hell..." I mumbled looking at the situation we had gotten ourselves into.

I felt a heavy hoof slap my back and the large senior stallion who had been talking to my medic behind me moved up beside me and gave me a nod. Despite his obvious aging, he was still in incredible shape, he was tall, taller than me and was boasting a large muscular frame. His mane was poorly kempt like the stallion had been cutting his own mane poorly, it was now almost totally gray with age but still sported specks of colour which betrayed the fact that his mane was once a deep smooth caramel colour.

He sported a beard on his face, it was that same aging gray colour, it was tied up in a way to keep it tamed, I could see braided into it were small beads and decorations giving him the look of some comedic looking pirate from a children's story book.

He was a decorated veteran, under his black fatigues and his body armor was the hints of his dark orange coat, almost a burnt pumpkin colour. He wore the Lighthouse Badge of Iron on his chest piece and wore a massive battle saddle that cradled a fearsome looking light machinegun on one side and a hefty looking shotgun on the other.

It was impressive, much more impressive than anything a recruit could hope to get.

I had no doubt it was military grade.

"Good to see you awake Greenie, are you feeling better?” he said to me in a rasping and bellowing voice which was strung almost melodically with a thick Stalliongrad accident.

I nodded at him somewhat bewildered I had been approached and treated with such friendliness by a stranger.

He nodded “Do not be worrying about that mess down there, Mutts are not intelligent enough to find a way inside a building and navigate it to try find us.” he said with a jovial smirk.

“Your squad commander, Talc the griffin, he went to get some help for us, he should be back soon.” he said slapping the butt of the rifle that floated in my magic beside me.

“Still it is being as good an excuse as any to get some target practice in, I’ll let you squeeze off some rounds in a moment I must ask you some quick questions about this...Margarine you were with.” he said gesturing to the slumped figure of my comrade.

I nodded sharply to him “Of course sir.” I replied.

He smiled disarmingly and waved me off “Please, I hate Sir, just call me Speakeasy.” he said with that same jovial smirk.

I had to keep my face from betraying the hint of excitement and childlike glee that comes with meeting a figure as important as him. First my squadmate runs off like an insane fool into Penumbra and now I was face to face with Captain Speakeasy, the oldest serving Ranger in the regiment. He was famous even outside of the Rangers.

Thirty consecutive years of service, six tours of duty.

The only Veteran Ranger to be offered a seat on the High Council, and refuse it. The stuff legends were made of. The stallion had been walking into hell for ten years longer than I had even been alive.

“Oh...gods Captain Speakeasy it's an honor.” I spluttered out to him.

He gave a deep chuckle and shook his large head at me “Save me the groveling, I need to ask you questions about her, your squad mate here says she inhaled Eerie, my medic tells me she got quite the high dose from it too. where was this Eerie for her to get such a big dose?”

I looked over to the indoor pool we exited from and pointed a hoof at it “There, my trainee squad found a smugglers tunnel, there was an old cart in there with bales of it.”

Speakeasy nodded weakly as his eyes betrayed that he was deep in thought “Raw?” he asked presumably referring to the Eerie.

“No sir, refined”

He sighed shaking his head “Only know of one company that pushes Refined Eerie…” he pursed his lips mumbling under his breath to himself beneath his grey beard before he gave me a warm smile “Thank you green, what was your name again?”

“Ashes sir.”

Speakeasy gave me a nod of confirmation but it was obvious he was trapped in his thoughts “Yes, Thanks Ashes, your friend said he didn’t look too closely.” he said looking Lemon who peered back upon hearing my name giving me that familiar sly wink and a short wave of his hoof.

Speakeasy kicked his rear leg back and with a sharp rasp and a symphony of clicking and shifting gears his weapons shifted into place as he strode over to line himself up to shoot some of his own targets.

I moved to try find myself a spot beside lemon, stepping up and easing the bolt back to see if it was loaded I let my ears flick to the sound of commotion behind me, drowned out by the sounds of gunfire and the occasional yell.

I peered back and saw that same medic who helped me earlier desperately trying to hold back Margarine as the Earthpony roared and wrestled her trying to get her off. Wildly spasming, flailing about as she impotently battled a phantom.

With a yell for help directed to anybody that was listening I rushed over to the struggling pair. It didn’t occur to me then that perhaps my desperate cry for help may have been drowned out by the rings of gunfire and the yells from other squad members, but at the time I was too focused on the commotion before me.

Soon enough I reached their side rearing up and trying to pry Margarine off of the medic as they struggled with each other.

I’d be lying if I said I was expecting an easier fight, I was a big enough stallion I figured I could handle a mare, but I failed to take into consideration that Earth ponies were synonymous with being hearty and massive fighters with complimentary strength. Earth ponies were synonymous perhaps to a stereotype with hulking muscle bound frames and fierce brawler instinct with the raw strength to compliment it.

We were barely keeping her pinned with our combined strength. She twisted her head in a ghoulish fashion pulling her face in an almost terrifying snarl, bearing a great deal of her teeth to me.

“LEAVE” she screamed at me. “They make you stay Ashes!” she yelled

I growled back at her trying to hold her back “Margarine, shut the fuck up! Put this mare down!”

She gave a hearty cackle at me “Mare? She’s no mare she’s a lie! an abomination!” she said thrashing under our hooves “They all are, they’re all hiding something!” Margarine barked, her inequine resistance spurred by the Eerie, her grinding grit teeth and wickedly live eyes frightened me, she had departed from reality.

There came a great yell as finally more help arrived, Speakeasy was rushing toward us with a determined expression on his face, Lemon was behind him also rushing.

Her panic was as tangible as the cold sweat enveloping her body, behind her eyes the gears were corroding, overclocked and fracturing, she let out another round of shrill laughter, her gaze holding to my own. The deluge of dark red ichor from her nostrils slipping over her lips, distorting her words “Leave while you still can colt, you won’t like how this all ends!” she decreed giddily, with startling strength she reared upright on limbs trembling from strain, with a tremendous trash she took us from our hooves into her own free fall.

We were effortlessly dragged from the roof with the frenzied mare, sent into a spiral towards the dirt and starved freaks below, my own scream of terror was drowned by the sound of air rushing past me, all the while she laughed on the way down.

I had no time to double think, I looked around desperately as the ground sped toward us. An awning hung pathetically off the side of the building, an old tattered piece of tarp used to decorate the windows of the town hall, Without really thinking on it I stopped my yelling long enough to focus and with my magic grasped the awning in my magic and yanked it to spread out and fly fiercely upward toward us.

It was a total longshot, very few unicorns can handle the magical stress required to telepathically hold their own body weight let alone three ponies at once. I’d say that I never intended to do that, that really all I had in mind was to just use the tarp to break our fall and make our impact a lot more survivable.

But truth be told I’d be lying to you, I was acting on impulse, the first idea to come into my head.

We bashed into the tarp with a deep resounding smack, I yelled in agony as for a split second a nail was driven into my skull, my magic faltered as the tarp resisted the energy from our fall, for a split second I held the tarp before my horn faltered and we smacked into the concrete all at once.

The loud rushing of air was suddenly exchanged for the abrupt and sickening snap of bones, the dull thud of sacks of meat impacting the concrete as numbness flooded through my impacted side, dull throbs running through my tenderised flesh.

I felt my hind leg bend in ways that no leg should ever bend and wailed out in pain as I felt it the bone beneath my skin shudder and snap as I fell, my howl coming to a finish as I felt my skull bash against the pavement with a deafening crack.

My whole world was spinning, my eyes spun around in a blur that slowly began to fade back into solid shapes again as my brain stopped shaking in its skull.

I was tempted lie and wait for help but as my brain recovered from its rattle I blinked and tried to bounce to my hooves, I had nearly forgotten that this building was being circled by mutants.

I yelled out in pain as I tried to put weight on my rear leg barely managing to keep myself standing as my body tried to fall down again. I had broken bones before in the past, nothing as bad as this. my entire leg was on fire, a dull throb of pure screeching pain.

I bit my lip to try stem my pain looking around. To my left was Margarine and to my right was the medic. The medic was groaning and trying to roll over, Margarine was stone cold unmoving. Either unconscious or outright dead. Her flattened, splayed out body and the lack of any noticeable lift of breathing making me lean towards the latter.

I limped a step or two over and tried to help the mare up with my own two shaking and wounded hooves grunting as I hauled the mare up to her own hooves. Her head hung low as she held her hoof to her head, her nose was bleeding and she was giving slow blinks, her eyes swinging in a slow and lagging way as she struggled to focus on her surroundings.

“D..don’t let me p..pass out…” she grunted feeling her flanks with her hooves weakly before cursing under her breath. I could only guess she tried to look for her medical kit but realised she had left it up on the roof. She coughed and I heard her dry heave “I..think I have a concussion...I need to stay awake…” she murmured sleepily to me, or perhaps keeping in trend, to herself.

I nodded as if she could see it gritting my teeth with a hiss as I let her bare her weight on me. I looked around blinking my eyes and shaking my head gently to try clear my blurred vision. As I suspected it didn’t take long for the beasts to spot us, It started with one or two outliers from the pack spotting us letting out menacing barks and before we knew it, the jumping and leaping shape of a dozen more of these strange rat dogs appeared gnashing their crooked teeth and barking angrily at us.

I peered around once more, trying to find anything, we were beside the glass window of the lobby I grunted and bashed my shoulder weakly into it, causing a pathetic thud and nothing more on the glass. I tried lifting a forehoof and bashing it against it which succeeded in causing a crack to splinter out.

It was laminated.

I kept bashing my hoof against it, cursing that my much more powerful hindlegs were unable to make short work of the task As strength rapidly depleted from the gaping compound fracture in my hoof, my blood draining steadily from the deep tear in my limb.

Eventually I punched through it in a small hoof sized hole which of course ran small cuts up and down my foreleg but a cut leg was the least of my problems, you could fix a cut on your leg, you couldn’t fix being mauled to death by mutants.

They began to charge, a few of the bolder mutants in the pack began to stalk toward us staring their beady eyes at me as I tried to punch more of the glass out of the way uselessly.

This was taking too long.

I limped back a step before yelling and shoulder charging the window again. With a structural weakness in it the window was no longer as strong, it crunched and split away as I charged through it with a yell, tumbling painfully to the faded hardwood floor of the lobby with a yelp as I fell on my broken leg again, with the added weight of a concussed medic on me.

I grunted and forced myself back to my unstable hooves once more, repeating the slow process of helping the medic up as I limped with her into the familiar lobby toward the staircase.

As grim as it was, I had hoped the body of Margarine would keep the beasts occupied, and it did for two or three who began to pounce and bark as they began to maul the corpse on the pavement but there were more hungry beasts, many of them ignoring the slowly growing feeding frenzy to claw their way through the broken window to get at the two live ponies.

I was running out of options quickly, they clawed their way toward us as we limped weakly backwards to the stairs, there was no way in hell we were going to make it up these stairs with these two following us.

I had to fight, or at least try.

Hooves would help, but I only had two of those I could use and keep my balance, I wondered if my head was in any shape to try use my magic. Trying to catch the combined weight of three ponies was probably enough to cause me to burn out for the day but I grit my teeth and bore the pain as I flared my horn up to try lift the terminal that sat on the desk to my left. With a yell and another nail driven into my skull I hulked the hefty computer over and let it fly, smacking one of the beasts square in the top of the head with considerable force.

I yelled again lifting the terminal up with my magic before bringing it down with just as much force to let it bash its weight against the head of the downed monster. I heard a sickening crunch of broken bones and glass and a yelp as the creature spasmed and life escaped it. I caved its skull in just as the other rat pounced on me with a growl and a series of barks, spewing vile spittle outward from it’s chomping jaws. The medic yelping as she toppled back over and fell onto her side across the stairs.

I bashed my hooves against the mutant as held its gnashing and wretched smelling jaws away from my face. I yelled out and grit my teeth as I threw my unbroken hind leg up, bunting the rat off me and launching it a foot or two away from me, leaving it to crash into the hardwood floor.

It threw its body around like an angry dog, pounding its claws to the floor it soon turned to face me as I struggled to get back to my hooves once more , the beast growling at me as it prepared to lunge once again.

Suddenly with a shatter of glass and a crack of distant gunfire the beast strangled out a yelp as its head was thrown to the floor by force moving too quickly to be seen. The bullet from this unseen rifle tore through the skull of this animal, killing the beast instantly as it was shoved to the floor by the round, spraying blood all over the wall and the floors beside it.

I blinked at the sight my heart still racing and my chest still heaving as I gave out quick laboured pants to try catch my breath again.

As I swung my head to face out the window to find the shooter I saw the weak sun glint off polished glass, looking at me from a window across the street was familiar looking mossy green coated mare in glasses, a rifle perched on the window sill and her body leaning in into it as her magic held it in place.

She gave me a short wave.

I turned my head back and limped over to the medic looking over to see a handful more of these rats begin to claw into the broken window to reach us. Before I had time to panic heavy thuds sounded from above, the large figure of the middle aged Speakeasy and the imposing frame of my griffin squad leader came thundering down the stairs rolling up beside us as my leader yanked his terrifying shotgun out and held it at his hip taking the enormous kick of the weapon into his arms and core as the shotgun let out an almighty boom, destroying a number of the windows and shredding the rats trying to reach us into bloody mince.

A pit opened in my stomach as I briefly remembered there was a squad mate of mine in that pile of rats he was blasting with his shotgun, but that quickly disappeared when I remembered that she was already at death's door on the roof, falling three stories and getting mauled by a pack of mutants for thirty seconds pretty much sealed the deal.

Margarine was dead.

That thought echoed over and over in my head. I had been surrounded by death my entire life thus far, I’d probably seen more dead bodies then even some Rangers had, yet for the first time I felt pained.

I tried to find an expression to give, but none seem to fit, I felt no need to cry, in fact it felt as if crying for this mare I barely knew would be some kind of insult to her memory.

Perhaps the adrenaline was fiercely fighting my emotions, the chemicals forcing me to push this news to the back of my subconscious. But even still, it remained sobering and impactful.

A loud crack of gunfire and the scream of a bullet whizzing past, shattering a window and killing another beast shook me from my trance, It occurred to me that I had just been staring at a pile of dead rats and a massive griffin making occasional passes with a massive shotgun.

Across the street the mossy green mare known as Allure kept squeezing off rounds into the pack of mutants as Talc minced them with his monstrous gun. Speakeasy with the help from another more thin and graceful looking mare hefted the medic onto his huge back and began to climb the stairs the mare beside him looking at me. “Back onto the Roof Greenhorn!” she yelled to me.

I began to limp up the stairs as Talc let out one last mincing blow from his shotgun before he followed up behind me, turning his huge avian head to peer at me as I limped up the stairs.

To the griffin’s credit he did wait a little for me, however he’d pounced up the stairs in three steps, I in the same time had barely limped up four. He gave an annoyed sigh, slinging his shotgun onto his shoulder as he stepped down to the same step as me, and with little more than a soft grunt he wrapped his massive arms around my midsection and hefted my frame into the air as he stormed up the steps.

My eyes bulged out of my head as I realized that my commander had just effortlessly lifted my entire body weight and had began running bipedal up the stairs behind the rest of group which quickly exited onto the roof.

It was a dreadfully emasculating, I had grown up one of the tallest stallions in Darkwater Down and here I was being held like a foal by a rather angry looking griffin. It was however a relief to be off my broken leg.

That relief didn’t last long, just as fast I had been picked up I was dumped beside the medic onto the floor with a painful smack onto the concrete rooftop.

Mincing a couple dozen of them seemed to give us enough time to navigate the stairs back to the roof. We were not followed thankfully and as we returned to the roof I learned that the pack had scattered running off through the town in an attempt to run, Against the wall I even saw one or two large plumes of smoke, dirt and grass along with the resounding thud of two or three of the mutants running into the minefield built against the wall.

Speakeasy stood over the medic looking down at the two of us as we lied on the roof “Gloom, be good and stay awake, tell us what we need to be giving you.” he said slowly and deliberately so she could hear.

The medic who I know knew was named Gloom caught her breath and looked around at us “I uh..um…” she began trying to think, sifting through the clogs in her mind “I need a Harmony potion...I have a concussion…” she said with a gulp “But those don’t come in any field kits...so just...give me a healing potion I can stay awake until we get back to dispatch…” she replied.

They passed her a small vial of bright pink fluid and she uncorked it gulping it down and sighing looking across at me after she relaxed for a moment peering at me “The greenhorn has a compound fracture...he needs to stay off his leg until we get him to a real clinic.” she said looking at me, her gaze still wispy but her eyes seemed much less dizzy.

“D..don’t give him a healing potion! he needs to have his leg shifted back into place first, if he drinks a potion now it will heal incorrectly and cripple him...just make him a splint and shoot him some morphine until we get him back to base.”

Talc shook his head “No need, I can fly you two both the Darkwater Watch now.” he said moving up beside me as he waited for Speakeasy to pass him the chem.

Speakeasy nodded “Thank you very much Talc.” he replied to the griffin. His hooves shifting through the medic bag and finding smaller kit within it, opening it up he slipped one of the small single dose syringes out with his hoof and pushing it gently to Talc who leant over, taking it in his talons and slipping it into the thigh of my broken leg, letting the chem drain into my body.

As he did so I made a decision now to avoid looking at my leg. I had seen compound fractures on a few bodies I had handled as a foal working in the yard, that sight alone made my stomach heave, It was probably best I didn’t let myself see such an injury on myself. I wanted to keep what was left of my breakfast inside me.

I felt a warm pleasant glow overpower my leg where the pain once was and I let out a sigh as the relief from the pain sent a shiver up my spine.

Talc moved away back to Gloom, he shifted his massive frame down and scooped the mare up in his massive beastial arms letting his wings unfold as he took flight, peering back down at us. “I’ll be back for Recruit Ashes in a few minutes, you think you can mop up Captain?” he boomed down to Speakeasy.

Speakeasy gave a smirk and nodded “I can handle a few scared mutts Sergeant.”

The griffin flew off effortlessly and headed back toward the small dark stone fort in the distance as the rest of us began to ease up and relax, weapons were put down and small talk began.

The morphine helped, a lot. With the cloud of agony gone I was able to let my mind stop racing and think clearly, my survival instinct was slowed down and once again more mundane and simpler topics were allowed back into my head.

I peered around, doing my best to avoid looking at my leg as I gazed at the rest of the troopers up here. Most of them had kept to themselves and stayed away, I hadn’t paid them much mind during the heat of it. Besides Lemon and another stallion I had never met they were all Veteran rangers.

One had the body of a stallion, I couldn’t make out the features of his face as he was wearing a series of camouflage scrimmage over his head, the other however was the mare that helped me up the stairs earlier. a lithe and athletic bodied mare with a short and styled tomboyish mane that was a dirty white color. She had a light gray coat from what I could see, her black fatigues covered most of her body and the smaller and purposely thinner armour plates she had were covering the rest.

She had one of the strangest looking battlesaddles I had ever seen, it was made to sit at a different angle on her back, most of the firing mechanisms for what I presumed was an SMG on her side bunched up in an odd way.

Perhaps it was jury rigged by some wasteland builder or perhaps it was just customised by her, either way it was designed shift the weight down to her sides rather than on her back to leave the space on her shoulders and lower back free, I only guessed so she could carry more weight there.

The veterans were calm, too calm as a matter of fact. The only one who looked irked was Lemon who was still jittery from his adrenaline rush but the rest of the soldiers up here seemed relaxed, maybe even bored.

Despite the morphine I could still feel my muscles slip slightly on my unwounded forelegs, looking at my hoof I saw it shivering and jittering. Why didn’t I feel panic like Lemon? I could feel my heartbeat quicken as I realized I was too relaxed.

After all that had happened today shouldn’t I have been worried, shaken, or some blubbering emotional wreck?

Was this a side effect of the pain killers? was this the adrenaline or perhaps the stress? Why couldn’t I feel anything? I felt like I should at least make some sort of reaction but I just couldn’t feel anything, all I felt was the painkillers coursing through my veins and my body coming down from a rush of adrenaline.

For a brief moment I was worried i was already having some breakdown or hell if the stress had permanently stunted my nerves and I was going to be some vegetable but that was interrupted by the hefty ground shaking thud of my commander falling to his rear legs perfectly a few feet ahead of me.

Talc was back, how long had I been sitting here? I was sure Darkwater Watch was much further away.

Talc moved to Speakeasy and chatted silently with him, I saw a hoof raise and point at me as they spoke in very hushed tones to each other. After the point it seemed as if Talc and Speakeasy somewhat of a disagreement albeit a quiet one before Speakeasy spoke again and Talc gave a considerable sigh and shook his head, seeming to want to bring an end to the conversation before he began walking bipedal over to me.

Again with little more than a nod of acknowledgement he scooped me up effortlessly and held me like a comically oversized foal as he spread out his wings and took flight, I could feel my heart rise into my stomach as I saw the ground shrink and the buildings grow smaller as he shifted his weight and began to fly back to the wall.

“Keep your nose clean this week” Talc grumbled to me.

Him speaking came as somewhat of a shock to me, I was hoping that this experience was as embarrassing to him as it was to me but apparently he didn’t seem to notice or if he did, didn’t care. He took my embarrassed silence as a response.

“Pass your tests, stay out of trouble, hell don’t even go into the break rooms at all, stay in the yards and train.”

I gave him a puzzled look and managed to speak up “W...why?” I replied back “..Sir” I added.

“I’m not meant to tell you specifically because it ruins the point of watching you all week by allowing you to alter your behaviour to show off, but Speakeasy plans to put your name in for selection, so a bunch of administrators are going to be watching every move you make to decide if you’ll be chosen.”

All I had for Talc was an even more puzzled expression “Chosen for what?”

He sighed easing his weight back as Darkwater Watch quickly grew until we were hovering over one of the tops of the towers, Rangers milling around watching us and one or two medics in bright cream yellow coats watched carefully with a stretcher read. “Chosen to be put into the Scout Squads.”

"...He wants me in the Scouts...W-why?”

Talc gave a short laugh and gave me a condescending look “Why the fuck are you asking me, I think he’s wrong, I don’t think you’re ready at all but...then I realized you suck at most everything else, you were a joke in Engineer training, you’re horrible at Garrison duty, about all you’re good at is shooting and walking, so better Speakeasy tries to teach you to be a scout, than me having to put up with you sucking at everything you do because you were chosen as wall Garrison.”

We landed on the roof and Talc nodded to the two doctors as he gave a weak grunt and hefted me onto the stretcher.

“Don’t fuck it up Ashes, last thing I need is more useless troopers on the Garrison.” he stepped back and flapped his wings once more “Oh and I didn’t tell you this, see you on the small council meeting Ashes.”

My doctors both grunted and stood up taking the stretcher attached to their sides lifted into the air and began walking back to the keep moving up to the steel door which hissed as it slid open and we headed into the large fortress.

“So..uh” I began speaking up to my carriers. “Where's the shooting range at Darkwater watch?”

* * * * * * * *

They lose more bodies in Penumbra then they ever find. For some reason that beyond all else terrified me the most about the highlands. They could get Margarine's body back easily enough. Aparently it was not in a state you’d say was exactly worth looking at.

They don’t bury bodies typically if you’re a ranger, they usually cremate you and scatter your ashes off the Equestria side of the wall, unless of course you were the praying type who wanted hallowed land for your body in which case they sent you or what was left of you back to Darkwater Down to me and my father to clean you up and bury you somewhere you could pretend the gods were watching.

My father was the type to believe in all of that. Dad was a talented guy who actually had a lot of skills one could consider profitable in a wasteland, but he stayed at the graveyard, he prayed every night and he went to church like any good child of the sun did.

Why? Because of duty to the Sister Gods. My father was a hell of a barter, which often times made me think he would have made an excellent merchant or shopkeeper. We got enough to live off simply because the church was thankful somepony was willing to haul dead bodies in the name of the Gods but given how low he could get the price when he was out trading or shopping I always figured the stallion could make a killing working trade routes or running a store. He could probably make more caps working any job but yard keeping for the Pastor. But he chose to stay.

Some would say rather cynically that perhaps my father was trying to bargain his way into the Ever After but my father was too genuine a stallion for that, his sense of duty to Luna and Celestia was true.

He of course dragged us along as foals in the faith, neither of us ever wanted to actually go, Dust got out of it because she got taken to Fillydelphia, I however had to be more clever, I told my father that I hated going to church when it was full, that I prefered to speak to the sisters in private and by myself. He believed me of course and stopped making me go mornings.

Of course that meant trips into town every so often under the guise of “Going to church.” which was probably more effort than it was worth but I was a foal, and children are stubborn like that and stubborn childish me hated church.

I wasn’t ever one to rag on those of the faith, it was a really shitty time to be alive, the world was not in a good shape and it gave folks the hope they needed to make it through the day.

I think even deep down the most faithful stallions and mares in this world knew that the sisters were dead, and even if they weren’t they’d abandoned us and what was left of the world.

RECRUIT - SALT BUTTER

AGE - 21

KILLED IN ACTION

So thats what her name was.

It seemed rather fitting that all she got was a chiseled little memo in the granite of the wall hallways. Rangers come and go with little more than a whisper, the most thankless but the most important job in Equestria. To guard the wall and protect the Mainland from the gates of hell.

“Recruit Ashes?”

A vaguely familiar voice.

I turned my head and saw the figure of the medic mare who helped me and in return I helped her back. Gloom.

She was in a much more clean looking uniform, not those drab black veteran fatigues I saw her in before. She looked much more casual, but still uptight and uniform.

“You shouldn’t have gone so far, they told you to wait outside, they need you back in the room now”

I gave the name one last look before nodding to her and walking back with her “Sorry, I was only told this morning on the way to the meeting that her name was put up, I figure I had time to go look at it”

She nodded weakly, not really paying attention to me “Don’t apologise to me, its not me you should be worried about.”

We trotted the empty hallways, which beyond us and a few wandering administrators, was all but abandoned. Very few were actually meant to be inside the inner hallways of the Lighthouse fort beside the Ranger High Council and the administrators.

We reached the large oak doors, Gloom leant on them and eased them open with a long reverberating creak as the small room which long ago served a much less governmental purpose but had long since been changed to fit an entire board room in it was revealed.

Gloom and I saluted as I came face to face with the highest ranked Rangers in the regiment’s history,. The High Council.

The room was little more than a large oak round table with large ornate chairs on it sat a dozen so well dressed and well maintained mares and stallions. Some were marred and scarred horribly, every single one had served at least two tours in the highlands and survived.

The very best of the Rangers.

Flanked either side of the table were large tiered benches, very old and very ornate, a lot of care and effort had gone into crafting these glorified benches. The room overall felt very official despite being almost comically cramped and tiny, almost as if the Rangers had stuffed an entire courtroom into a laundry.

Speakeasy was on a small stand on the far wall from the door, an elevated area where the current speaker would be sat to command some form of attention. He was casually dressed but still formal enough to be considered small council material. Littering the benches to my left and right was a litany of other veteran rangers who had joined in to watch or press their cases today.

“Sorry to keep the board waiting.” I said stepping in as Gloom closed the doors behind us and gestured quietly for me to take a seat on the benches with her beside the other members of my squad that were here too. They’d all had to step outside during their own hearings on the council’s decisions.

I didn’t know my own fate but I knew the others, it was looking pretty good so far.

The room which had fallen silent at my interrupting arrival resumed as soon as I sat down on the hard wooden bench.

A voice spoke up, an elderly mare with a very gray mane and a face ruined by scars and wrinkles of age “Do you agree with the administrations observations of your selections Captain Speakeasy, for the record and latecomers, specifically Recruit Lemon Zest, Recruit Earnest, Recruit Allure and Recruit Ashes?”

Speakeasy gave a nod his eyes looking at me but his head facing the High Council as he began “Yes, I agree with the Board’s decisions, no objections.”

The High Council chatted amongst itself before speaking up “Thank you Captain, you may now take a seat.”

There was silence and pens flicked across papers and murmurs were shared as Speakeasy shifted his huge frame back to the benches on the far side of the room, as he sat down on a spare seat I saw sitting with him was the huge figure or my current commander Talc who rather easily filled up two spaces with his size, directly beside him was the elderly stallion I’d saw the day of the incident commanding the Engineer intake.

The engineer commander was the least formally dressed soldier in the room, in fact he wore little more than some old tattered flannel shirt and a pair of fatigue pants. Talc was better dressed but I imagined not a whole lot fits a Griffin as huge as him besides his battle armor and his fatigues, he had to his credit managed to at least slip into a slightly formal vest, how any creature could wear so little this close to winter and not be cold was beyond me.

Talc and the elderly stallion leant into one another and shared whispers in the silence, Talc was also looking at me much the way Speakeasy was. It was an analytical gaze, his eyes sizing me up as he shared silent small talk with the stallion beside him.

“First Commander Neon will take the stand, all rise.”

There was a short burst of sound as all bodies in the room stood.

The most elderly looking stallion I had ever seen rose to his hooves. He had an angry and bitter look on his face, perhaps an expression years of wearying life would give one. His mane was silver and his coat faded in his age. His body looked frail in his uniform by he trotted with a sense of dignity and purpose,. albeit it shaking and slow as he took the stage.

A fitting shape and look for the overseer of the entire fortress The Leader of the Rangers of Alwhinny and the lord commander of the entire regiment, arguably one of the most influential and powerful stallions in the world and It looked like he could be pushed over by a light breeze.

He eventually reached the stand and he shook a hoof weakly as he stood up bipedal to it putting his weight onto it. “Be seated.” he grumbled out.

“The...incident that occurred recently beneath Darkwater Watch is troubling. But this is why we ban Eerie trade, a single whiff and one loony little filly leads to one of the most serious incidents ever seen this close to the wall.” he said in his elderly and croaking voice.

He looked at us blinking and focusing “These recruits did well, Recruit Allure was fast thinking and able to quickly navigate unfamiliar terrain to assist her comrades, Recruit Lemon Zest was able to handle a situation that would snap any other recruit into panic and organize a distress call while managing a dangerous situation by himself.”

His eyes reached me “And of course Recruit Ashes saved the lives of himself and a Veteran Combat Medic Second Class Gloom with quick thinking and a level head in a time of extreme stress and high stakes while seriously injured himself.”

He reached up looking to the round table before him “While some of them...their basic training and test results leave...much to be desired, I can see that through action, these recruits have all proven themselves in a considerable way, worthy of more involved roles in the Rangers of Alwhinny.:”

He looked to Speakeasy “Captain Speakeasy, Scout First commander, do you accept the transfer of command of Recruit Ashes and Recruit Allure to the Scout Branch?”

Speakeasy nodded “I accept, your honor.”

“Captain Shae. First Commander of Reach Garrison, do you accept the transfer or command of Recruit Lemon Zest and Recruit Earnest to the Reach Garrison.”

A Zebra which I had surprisingly not noticed in the top corner of the bench dressed in his combat fatigues nodded also “I accept, your honor.”

I don’t know why I expected him to have an accent, but to my surprise, he didn’t.

The Lord at the stand nodded “So be it, I First Commander Combination Wrench, Eighty first Lord of the Alwhinny Rangers hereby Promote Recruit Allure and Recruit Ashes to Scout Private First Class under the command of Captain Speakeasy, and hereby Promote Recruit Lemon Zest and Recruit Earnest to Reach Garrison Private First Class under the command of Captain Shae.”

He stomped his hoof to the stand and the court spoke up in unison “Here Here.”

The Lord Commander scratched his hoof to his mane and gave a short nod “The High Council is adjourned for recess, public hours are done and the court is closed upon return the return, thank you for your attendance.” He stomped his hoof twice on the stand and the room erupted into loud speech and chatter as bodies shifted and stood up slowly filing out of the room one by one.”

Gloom looked to me and gave a weak smile which though small and forced did betray at least a mild sense of legitimate excitement before she too stood up and made her way to the door with the rest of the crowd as the room slowly drained away to nothing.

Speakeasy looked to me and Allure and gestured us to come outside as he left the room in the crowd which was not beginning to thing out and make the room less crowded, which we did eventually do, the two of us nodding to Lemon who got up and walked to the far side of the room to chat with the Zebra as we left out the door and saw Speakeasy standing a couple of feet down the hall waiting for us.

“Pack up your things in your recruit barracks rooms and be ready to move, we’re going to come around the evening to be picking you up and taking you to the Scout barracks.” he said.

We nodded back and Allure spoke up with a “Yes Sir.”

He gave us a jovial smile and a nod “I have to go check on something back on the Veteran council hall, but congratulations to you two, welcome to the scouts!”

He trotted away with a sense of urgency to his step taking a sharp right at the corner and heading down a hall.

Allure looked over back to me, seemingly trying to figure out what to do next. It had only occurred to me just now that she and I had never really talked to one another.

“So uh...you a drinker? I replied.

Book 1 - Chapter - 03

ACT I

RAGS THAT SCHEME

STEEL THAT HATES

CAVES THAT GROW

_______________________________________

Sleep. This close to the Highlands it was an incomplete experience. Dreamless, mostly, the brute dark oblivion of the brain in the contented off-stage is a sensation everyone is familiar with. Peaceful, content. So deep it resembles the dark. This is what I craved, but never got from my stint on the wall. Every night as you drifted off, as the lights in your brain flickered off one by one into rest, something else moved in to it’s place. The comfortable quiet is disturbed. It’s difficult to explain, but it’s as if that familiar blackness is shifting, like roaches scuttling across, or the oars of boats unsettled the black pool. I can’t nail it, only when you awake your body is stiff and rigid, and whatever sensations you felt in those fleeting moments simply slip from recollection…

A swift kick landed on the back of the chair I sat upon, jolting me awake from the unsettled waters of a dreamless sleep. I blinked bleary eyed, and lost lucidity for a moment before I craned my head around to see the considerably unimpressed face of Allure glaring at me before she leaned back over her rifle and peered into the scope.

“Stop falling asleep, we’re meant to be recon. You can’t do that asleep.” she mumbled bitterly to me.

I rolled my eyes and slumped into the cracked and faded backrest of the chair, shifting my weight back and leaning on the wall of the concrete pillbox we were in. “Hey some of us aren’t morning ponies.”

Allure gave an amused snort in response “Nobody is at four in the morning.” Our subdued voices were all but lost on the doleful wails of the strong winds. The highland gales crashed against the immensity of the wall, and rolled over our stations like the heavens themselves wanted to flee from Penumbra. I was one of the few who could ever sleep atop the walls.

I started to shiver A frosty gust of air prickled my spine through my throat, causing me to shiver. Peering out the booth, I could see it was starting to turn from late evening into night. A deep autumn chill was rolling in. Of course,these booths had no heating in them.

I pulled my jacket over me as I peered toward Allure who was unflinching as she tilted the rifle toward the long winding caravan highway. The road lead to the Grand Gate - a definitive amber vein of light that pierced into the deep purple night time. A hundred souls lined up - lamps lighting the way - all eager, and perhaps desperate to get out of this place.

“Don’t you feel cold at all?” I asked her, shivering and letting out a sigh My teeth chattering from the frosty winds, the chill must’ve set into me in my sleep, a plume of condensed air escaped from my mouth.

She gave a curt shake of her head in reply.

Across from me on the wall beside the door to the pillbox was some crudely written graffiti. I blinked the sleep from my eyes as I started at it trying to read it.

“Rags that scheme, Steel that hates, Caves that Grow.”

I repeated the sentence in my head a few times for no reason other than boredom. I tried to decipher what it meant. I don’t think any one sentence had got me thinking so hard about it since I was a colt.

Could be about the rangers, our fatigues could be the rags, our guns could be the steel, but that doesn’t explain the caves though.

I gave up trying to make sense of the cryptics scrawled on the wall and looked away out the window. Allure was hunched over, peering at the world below us.

“I don’t even know why they have me up here with you. We’re like thirty fucking metres above ground.” I sighed again I heaved another weary sigh, the steam drifted from between my chattering teeth like smoke from a dragon’s jaws.

I looked out the thin gap that was meant to rest our rifles, and gazed downwards. Down at the wall below, a noisy, sputtering cart trundled along the tracks, bumping and shaking with each rotation of the wheels. Illuminated by a single swaying gas lantern, the cart carried a precious cargo of a Ranger fireteam. Scouts probably, all kitted up further south along the wall.

The Stripes were very active in the southern sections of the wall. Our age old enemy still probed the ancient forts looking for weakness, almost like nobody had told them the war ended.

She sighed, leaning back from her rifle, and resting her head on her hoof as she peered lazily into the spotters telescope down onto the Grand Gates of the wall. “You don’t need to remind me how bad of a shot you are.”

The silence between us was a comfortable one, offset by the unsettling gales providing a discordant, chilling soundtrack to our existences. The last purple hues in the sky faded as the sun’s light slipped, and the darkness of the night settled upon our world. It wasn’t until we could feel the weight of the night around us did she speak again.

There was a thick bout of silence between us before she spoke up once more “Any word from Lemon Zest?”

I habitually nodded my head in response, despite the fact she was not looking to see it. “Got a letter from him this morning; said he’s at Beacon three now, and they’re thinking of putting him on one of the Safehouses along the Great Northern Railroad.”

From my angle I could see Allure cock an eyebrow, and shifted back to look at me. “Isn’t that the...?”

I gave her a stiff nod in response. “The Magenta Line, yeah..”

She gave a concerned look and swung on her stool back to her position; leaning into the spotters scope.

“Hey, better that he’s up north playing in the snow with Communists than down South with the fucking Stripes. At least the Magenta Line doesn’t shoot at us when they sneak around our borders.”

Allure pursed her lips and shifted the scope to further down the road toward the distant hills. “Suppose you’re right. Still hard to believe he’s a hundred and fifty kilometres away, seems like he was only leaving like a week ago.”

I heard the distinct sound of a hefty shift of wind - a sound I had learned to identify as Talc landing with all the feline grace a six-foot-tall monster like him could muster.

Soon enough he paced around the corner and looked into our Pillbox, glaring at Allure leaning into her rifle and me leaning against a wall. His expression wasn’t an impressed one. “Glad to see you’re keeping busy, Private Ashes.”

I gave a disinterested shrug in reply, “Come to give us more busy work, have you, Sergeant Talc?” Over time you start to learn Talc isn't half as scary as he makes himself out to be. In fact compared to a lot of other sergeants, he’s a pushover. He was a likable one, though his bad side was most definitely a very bad side, as rarely seen as it was.

He shot me a smirk and rolled his eyes, “No, as a matter of fact, I’ve come to tell you that the squad you’re meant to be serving in is calling a meeting back at the Lighthouse, and they need you two back there to be in it. So pack up your shit and get walking. If you’re lucky you might catch a Northbound cart back to the Lighthouse.”

I let the stool fall back onto its legs before I stood up and floated my bolt action around my shoulder. “Lighthouse is, like, ten kilometres from here. That’s like an hour walk, Sergeant.” I whined in an almost childishly manner as Allure stood up and swung her own sniper rifle around her shoulder.

“I can carry you back if you prefer, Private Ashes.”

I heaved a weary groan and clumsily scooped up my effects. Talc snorted and departed as swiftly as he arrived, displacing a massive amount of air and shooting off with heavy thumps of his wings. The fatigue was setting in for both of us I think. Allure let out an almost feline mewl as she straightened out her back, coaxing several loud pops as she shook off the stiffness of sitting for hours on end. Together we silently trotted towards the looming Lighthouse in the distance, our boots crunching on grit and dust as we perambulated along the wall.

“Her Gaze is ten nought fifty-five,” I heard Allure whisper behind me, her soft-spoken voice humming out a familiar chant. “While a Ranger sleeps and a ranger dies, her gaze stays ten nought fifty-five.”

I gave a smirk to myself and spoke up and joined in, “While the hunger of a thousand mouth tide has ebbed to the mountain side, her gaze still stays ten nought fifty-five.”

Allure shut up quickly. At first I thought she was embarrassed, but soon I heard her speak up once more, “While the lamphouse doors are locked, and a soul has never been inside, the gaze of the sister never dies.”

“The Sister’s Gaze will remain ten nought fifty-five.”

Allure gave an awkward laugh, perhaps to alleviate the strange mood that breaking into a duet would create.

“Thought you were from Manehattan.” I asked, looking back at her with a curious gaze and a weak smile.

She gave a stout nod. “Nah, I was actually born in Melancholy Bay. My parents just had a lot of caps, and paid for me to go to school for a little in Friendship City, then I came back and worked with them..”

“So where did you learn The Lullaby Gaze?”

She shifted her her leg up to get the strap to slide further up her shoulder. “Manehattan is the closest city to Alwhinny county, and I mean on a clear night you can even see the lighthouse, albeit barely.” She spoke up, “To answer your question, back in school, teacher would tell us stories about the Rangers and The Great Hunger.”

I couldn’t help but give a short laugh as we kept walking along the darkened wall. The ancient concrete only lit every dozen or so metres by a the weak sulfur yellow glow of a lamp. “They told you stories about the great hunger in school? Hell of a violent story to teach foals, isn’t it?”

“Wasteland is a dark place, Ashes. Kids grow up quickly back in the mainland. Not everywhere is as peaceful as Alwhinny county.”

I gave a short nod to nopony in particular before Allure spoke up again, “Wait a second.”

My hooves came to a stop, and I turned around to see the mare lifting a cigarette to her mouth. She also produced a lighter from her chest pocket, striking the wheel and causing a shower of sparks to ignite the wick, using the resultant flame to slowly light the stick of tobacco in her mouth.

A strong gust of wind was kicked off somewhere east, far into the highlands. The dust was swept into the air, and danced and swirled around in the faint light as it followed the freezing wind.

It’d be winter soon. Winter in a place that barely saw six hours of sunlight if you were extremely lucky. In most places in the Penumbra Highlands the tall cliffs and the permanent fog meant you got three hours of daylight if you were lucky enough..

It was no secret that winter was rough in Alwhinny, even worse in the Highlands. But the Rangers had been here for centuries. We were used to the snow and the frostbite. The cold was an old acquaintance, and the winter was always on our side.

I hissed as a dull throb in my formerly crippled leg rose up, the chill was making my bones ache. I leaned onto it and rubbed my other foreleg against it, trying to wisk away the ache. However, as I stood silent my ears perked as I detected a faint sound I felt my ears flicking as I detected a faint sound; a low rumbling on the horizon, hiding quietly in the wind. It was almost like a quiet and constant clap of thunder rolling in the distance, and creeping over the hills.

“Whats up?” Allure asked, trotting to my side and looking out into Penumbra with me.

ind up, sending out a deafening wail of sound.

I blinked and kept my gaze out toward the Highlands. “Can’t you hear that? Sounds like rumbling…”

She didn’t get to reply. As soon as I finished my sentence, red warning lights began to flash up and down the wall, and from Lighthouse I heard the sound of the warning sirens begin to wail. I looked back at Allure, and we both began our steady gallop back to the Lighthouse without a word. All the while the sirens wailed away and the lights flashed up and down the wall. I felt a slight jolt of panic begin to rush through me. Were we under attack? Had something happened that I missed?

It didn’t take long after the sirens started for the defensive hardpoints on the wall to flash to life one by one. Massive searchlights shot up, their beams piercing into the sky and swaying about in the deep night sky, searching for any sign of movement.

I had a feeling that may have been what was happening, but I didn’t want to believe it. One searchlight miles down the wall swayed left and right before it caught a sinister shape in its beam. A forgery hiding in the clouds, shifting with a frightening speed through them. It didn’t take long for the beam to snap back to the shape, and for the dozens of other searchlights to join it, all of them pointing at the same dark and nightmarish shape.

It was a ship; the lights had revealed the hull of an enormous ship as it sailed through the skies, its dark underbelly betraying its shape as it tried to hide in the clouds.

I tried to face it and gallop at the same time, but it was difficult to keep a stable footing as I gazed upon a truly terrifying sight. You grew up hearing of the empire above the clouds. It’d become somewhat of a saddening reality of living in this world. I think every parent dreaded the day their foal asked why the clouds never went away, and why the sky was always gone.

I didn’t think I’d ever see a pegasus. I also never thought I’d be a ranger, yet here I was running for dear life along the wall staring at an Enclave Cloudship as it rumbled through the clouds. The massive body clawed its way southward over the distant hills.

There was a deep, reverberating boom from the West back on the Alwhinny side of the wall as a mighty gun fired in the distance. The tremors from its blast reached me a second before the sound, throwing me off balance.

We finally reached the next concrete bunker along the wall. We darted inside, only to be met by three silhouettes staring outwardly at the shifting of the heavens. Their visages were illuminated periodically by the dull pulsations of a red warning light. One of them was hunched over a massive, frightening looking machine gun bolted to the concrete, a bored expression on his face.

“Whats going on!” demanded Allure, “Are we under attack!?”

The guard took a long drag at his cigarette, and shook his head in response.

“Don’t panic! It's just the Enclave showing off! It's not an attack!” One Ranger inside the booth yelled to us.

The stallion smoking nodded to us as the voice inside the booth yelled once more, “Aye, they do this once or so a year. Don’t worry about it. Enclave doesn’t have the balls to attack The Wall with one Raptor. They’re just toying with us, trying to spook us.” he elaborated.

The thumping in my chest subsided just a tad. The zealous adrenaline doped dummy in my head almost disappointed that we weren’t under attack.

“Then what the hell do we do about it?” Allure asked, catching her breath.

The stallion looked behind us and lifted a hoof to point. “Nothing. Same shit we do every year; Enclave comes and flexes their muscles, sets off the early warning alarms, we respond in kind, and remind them we’re still here.”

I glanced over my shoulder, and sure enough there was a bright flickering white light blazing across the skies toward the ship in the clouds. The flickering light cast a long white glowing tail as it flew through the air. As I watched it, I quickly noticed a very distinct effect; the light winked every three seconds.

“Don’t they teach you fucking recruits to not stare at Lavender rounds?” I heard the stallion growl at me. “Unless you want to go blind, I suggest to stop looking at it.”

I heard Allure speak up once more, “W-wait, Lavender Rounds? We’re attacking them?!”

The stallion chuckled and spat his dying cigarette out onto the concrete and stepped on it. “Nope, it’s just a warning shot. Our cannons have a whole bunch of shells tweaked to detonate when they get above the clouds. Specifically for when the Enclave stick their noses where they don’t have business.”

I vaguely remember an ordinance class where we were told of the ace-in-the-hole for the Ranger base; huge artillery pieces that could be fire a terrifying warhead-mounted spell. It produced an enormous burst of intense heat and light which vaporized anything it touched in a big purple fireball for nearly a kilometre.

They were terrifying weapons. Of course, these weapons were stockpiled on the major canons of the gun towers, but beyond the wall there was meant to be one at every single beacon all the way to the edge of Ranger formal territory.

I couldn’t remember exactly how they worked. I wasn’t trained for weapons and ordinance, so it wasn’t my job to understand how the weapons functioned

I recall it was supposed to be some highly pressurized chemical brewed like some potion. It had the consistency of a thick slurry, and was a vibrant purple colour.

When it triggered, the round sprayed the potion out into the air in a fine mist, and the potion would then react violently to the oxygen in the air. The result was a massive explosion which expanded with a great deal of veracity and speed. It was no megaspell, but you could be forgiven for thinking it was, given the destruction it wrought.

The projectile charged further and further into the air, and punched through the clouds. I finally looked away, waiting for the blast. The sirens wailed, and searchlights kept pointed. However, just as I began to wonder if the shell had worked, there was an almighty flare of light that exploded from behind me. The nighttime world illuminated, and grew brighter than the day, coating the world in a searing hot shine of lavender light.

Another brief moment of silence passed, underlined only by the commotion from the emergency alert system before a thunderous explosion shook the world. I could feel the rumble in my diaphragm, and my ears rung out from the mighty bang that reverberated for miles, bouncing off the walls again and again. Slowly, the sound bled away to silence, and I finally spun around to gaze up at the clouds.

“T-the sky!” Allure yelled out. A distance from the hull of the mighty ship was an enormous hole punched in the normally all encompassing blanket of cloud. I gazed through a massive void, marveling upon the incandescent stars for the first time in my life

The sky wasn’t grey, and it wasn’t black; it was a deep, welcoming purple. The void was only broken up by the flickering dots of white and yellow orbs of celestial light that welcomed every pair of eyes that gazed on them. I was rooted where I stood, and I imagine every other person on the wall was, also. Everyone transfixed by the near holiness of the sight. It wasn’t hyperbolic to say we all could have gazed upon that breach for as long as time would allow, if we’d been allowed.

My daze was only broken when streams of dark cloud flew across the void one by one, stitching one end of the hole to the other before another appeared at a different angle. Perhaps more awe inspiring was watching the pegasus magic in action. We watched as an ancient machine and its operators, hidden a thousand metres off the ground, stitched the wound our mighty guns had opened. And with less effort than it took to make it, the clouds were pulled back over, and the hole was sealed. Like the hoof of the princesses above applied a suture to the wound themselves.

The clouds belonged the the pegasus, and no gun, no matter how mighty, could break them. You’d need an act of the goddesses to pry the clouds away from the Enclave. The searchlights pinned on the hull of the ships scattered once more as the ship shifted up into the clouds. Almost like blood into water, it seeped away into nothing - the mysterious creatures returning to hide in their domain.

We were soon greeted to one last bellowing and mighty roar of a distant fog horn which echoed around the surrounding countryside. The pegasi let the horn thunder for several seconds before the world fell silent. The stallions in the booth all roared out in a spout of sudden laughter. Perhaps the laughter was catching, or perhaps the crushing fear of an empire beyond the clouds that far surpass even the Rangers was scaring me enough to try ease the tension through laughter. So I began to laugh along with them.

“Only thing the Big E loves more than the clouds is itself,” commented one of the sentries.

“Feathered colt-fucker bastards,” spat another.

The alarms slowly began to reel down, and the searchlights blinked off one by one. It was such a bizarre feeling - such a loud and angry display between two of the ruined world’s biggest powers, like two lions baring their teeth and staking their claims to one another. And down here, on this tiny concrete outpost, a hooffull of stallions and mares laughed off the display as harmless foals play.

I’d wondered if a group of privates and deckhands hung by the railings of their mighty vessel and laughed at the display too; if four or five cloud sailors sat around sharing smokes and telling jokes at the expense of us sad ground-dwelling types.

You could be forgiven for thinking the end of the world never happened that night as we shook the hooves of stallions and mares I never knew and bid them farewell, and leaving them to their duties as me and Allure continued our long walk back to the lighthouse. A moment of ease in a world full of hate. Somehow I knew that wasn’t the last I’d be seeing of the Enclave, and of course I had few hopes that my next meeting with the Empire above the clouds would be as friendly and as harmless as this.

* * * * * * * * *

We were late to the meeting. But we had to walk well over ten kilometres in the short time we had been given, so of course we were going to be late. I hadn’t gotten much time to meet with my new squad. Space hadn’t opened up in the Scout Barracks yet so me and Allure were sharing a barracks with some strangers who we had been told were also waiting for spaces to open up in their own barracks. I hadn’t met the others besides Gloom and another dirty-brown Earthpony Stallion who I’d already forgotten the name of.

I’d hoped we’d be getting a chance to meet and greet one another before official stuff, especially considering we’d be in each other's company in the field for now, but that wish had gone unfulfilled. Gloom had told me briefly that the lithe mare I met on the roof was in the scouts, and same with the veteran who hid behind the scrimmage, but that was all.

We walked in and apologised for being late. Speakeasy gave us that same warm jovial smile and told us not to worry. I also saw the Lithe mare with the strange battle saddle sitting in the corner of the small, neat looking briefing room. Her uniform was in an immaculately clean and neat state. She was staring at me - perhaps silently sizing me and Allure up. I didn’t mind. but it did make me nervous. In fact the only person who seemed annoyed was the brown stallion. He kept quiet, but I could sense animosity from him.

“Take a seat. Tall Tale had to step out briefly, but he will be back soon. I’ll get you two up to date while we wait for him,” Speakeasy said, moving back to a damaged and hastily mounted chalkboard.

Speakeasy looked at a small, cracked wooden desk in the corner, peering at a small folder filled with notes. His mouth moved silently as he repeated them to himself before he stepped back. “So, are either of you two familiar with a small merchant company - I believe they call themselves Sea Urchin?”

Allure nodded I shook my head.

“My brother works for them back at home,” she said, almost excited to be telling us this.

Speakeasy gave her a warm grin “Ah, you’re from Melancholy Bay, yes?”

Allure nodded back with a smile, “I did. I know the name is kinda off putting, but if you can get used to the smell of fish everywhere, it's an amazing place!”

Speakeasy gave her a nod and continued, “Anyway, Sea Urchin recently finalized a contract for a trade caravan protection into the Highlands. I’m not sure for what reason exactly, but from what I understand the high council wants to break the perceived monopoly the Vanity Bazaar has for trade in the region.”

“As I said before, where do we come in,” the lithe mare asked, scratching a hoof against her neck.

“The company has sent up some small caravan to help scout the fastest way to the Magenta Line so they can map it out. Which is where we are coming in. High Council wants us to guard them, for lack of a better word, and lead them down the safest and fastest path we can find so they can map it.”

“So we’re foalsitting,” the brown stallion interrupted

Speakeasy shrugged back to him, “For lack of a better word, yes.”

The brown stallion nodded in reply, thinking for a moment to himself before he spoke up once more, “Okay, so what route are we taking and where are we taking them?”

Speakeasy peered at his notes before back up again, “You will all be getting a folder with the details soon enough, but to answer your question; the company is at Wayward Watch tonight, and they will be here by morning. From then, we will depart out the great gate down the main highway into Penumbra before we reach Junction one, where we will follow it to the base in the ruins of Old Chaperone Town.”

Speakeasy peered at his notes one more time. “From that point on, we follow the Great Northern Railroad all the way to the border of the Magenta line. Depending on how good or bad the trip goes, we may stop at The Ket, but I, as well as the company, would like to avoid anything to do with the Vanity Bazaar,” he said, pausing briefly before speaking up to clarify, “I don’t think I need to explain why keeping this a secret from the Big Three of the Bazaar is a good idea.”

“Just call them the Cartels, Speak, that’s all they are,” gravely and ruined voice croaked from behind us. I turned around in my chair, and saw the marred flesh and coat of a ghoul stallion standing in the door. The ghoul was far from wearing any sort of battle armor, but he wasn’t in his fatigues, that's for sure. He had an odd set up - it seemed like a series of straps and reinforcing bars clasped a decently sized cannister to his side with a long tube that fed into his ancient lips, which chapped and scarred from a lifetime of use.

The tube was between his teeth, and as he finished talking his lips wrapped around the hose and his lips and shifted as if to drink from the tube before he let it out of his mouth and walked into the room, closing the door behind him.

“Ah, welcome back, Tall Tale,” Speakeasy replied to him.

Tall Tale walked passed with an ease that didn’t match his age. I’d never seen a ghoul before in my life, and few ponies in Alwhinny county actually had. I’d expected him to hobble or limp, but he trotted up to my side normally.

I looked up to see his ruined leathery face and his milky eyes stare judgingly at me and Allure. “Greenhorns,” he croaked, sticking his rotting foreleg out and presenting a chipped hoof.

I stood up and shook it. He gave me a garish smile before he moved his hoof back to lift the tube back into his mouth to drink once more. My eyes followed it as I watched him drink from the curious hose.

“It's just water,” he croaked again before swallowing, “Irradiated, but still just water. Had one of the Veteran engineers rig it up for me.”

I could only manage a nod. It seemed as if he knew what I was going to ask next. Perhaps it was from a lifetime of needing to clarify it each time he met somepony new. “Alwhinny wasn’t bombed during the war, so there's no radiation up here. Ghouls don’t have living cells to repair and upkeep bodily and mental function, so I need to ingest radiation somehow, otherwise I just fall apart out here.”

“Has it imported too, like some goddamn priss from Tenpony Tower,” the lithe mare rang out with a giggle that sounded very impressed with itself.

The ghoul shot her back an unimpressed smirk, then looked back to me. “Ask young Soft Gale over there about her obsession for cloud grain bread,” he said in reply, as if to shoot back to her. He gave my shoulder a friendly slap and walked passed, taking a seat toward the front.

As I sat back down, Speakeasy cleared his throat and looked over his notes a final time. “So, that is the length and breadth of it. Any more questions before I let you all go?”

“When do we leave,” the soft voice of Gloom spoke up from somewhere behind us.

Speakeasy gave her a nod. “Oh-Five-Hundred, sharp,” he said in response,“Provided we make good time, we should reach the edge of the fog by sunset. I want to minimize movement in the clouds during the night - eliminate it all together if I can, so we’re only moving during the day. Which we should be able to do, provided things go well.”

The brown stallion finally spoke up, “Two hours of walking a day isn’t much, sir. With all due respect, is it not worth it risking moving during the night, and save us the resources? You’re limiting our movement to an hour at Dawn and an hour at Dusk, with a ten-hour stretch of sitting on our flanks in between. That's slow as hell movement.”

Speakeasy nodded. “Normally I would be agreeing, Corporal Express, but because of the nature of this mission the high council gave me a blank cheque for filters and batteries. No need to cut corners on protocol, no need to rush, and no need to risk moving through the fog during the night, especially when we’re guarding civilians.”

The brown coated Stallion who I now knew as Express gave Speakeasy a nod and reclined in his chair.

Speakeasy looked around. “Anypony else, or are we done here,” Speakeasy asked, returning to the desk to gather his notes. Nopony else spoke up. “Right, we are done here. Folders with your hardbacks will be on your bunks by tonight. Give them a good read, discuss them, memorize them - what have you,” the middle-aged stallion mumbled as he squinted his eyes and brought his face closer to a certain page of his notes. His expression changed very quickly. “Get good sleep. I want to see you all at the armory ready to gear up at Oh-Four-Thirty on the dot ready to gear up and get going by five o’clock in the morning,” he announced loudly, looking away from the notes with a confused look on his face.

We all stood up gave our salutes and made for the door “Tale” Speakeasy spoke up as we began to walk “Stay behind, we have something to discuss.”

“Aye, captain,” the ghoul known as Tall Tale said, spinning around on his hooves and heading back to our Captain. As I left the room I saw Speakeasy looking right at me, his head making a gesturing motion. The door closed just as Tall Tale peered back as well.

Had I done something wrong? Did I imagine that, or were they talking about me? I stared blankly at the closed door before I felt a hoof tap my shoulder, making me jump slightly. It was the lithe mare I knew as Soft Gale. Gloom and Allure were beside her.

“Oh, sorry, didn’t mean to startle you, Greenie,” the mare said with a smirk, amused by my little jump. “So your first mission beyond the wall tomorrow, huh,” the mare asked with a genuine cheerful grin.

I blinked, still a little lost as to what was happening, but I nodded in response and managed out a weak, “Uh, yeah I suppose it is?”

Soft Gale let her grin fall to a smile before nodding. “Cool. In that case, we need to go out and do something with you and Allure. Its very important - an oooooold Scout tradition.”

“What is it?”

Soft Gale spun around on her hooves and began to walk away, following a rather neutral looking Gloom. “Its a surprise. We’ll come get you in the evening.”

* * * * * * *

Since Lemon Zest left, I’d been having an extraordinarily hard time finding things to do. He and I usually spent all our time at the Fort’s bar, but since I had nopony else to drink with, I’d been spending a lot less time there.

For no other reason than an excuse to do something interesting I started showing up to the fortress’ firing range. I still sucked at aiming, but the practice and the knowledge was useful. Plus I’d begun to notice that I was much more proficient with slower high-powered rifles and carbines, though we all simply got standard issue rifles until we bought or found something better, or something we prefered. It was useful to know what weapons I was better with, especially with the mission coming up. My aim was so bad I doubt I’d be able to save my own life with it. I had hoped the practice would help, but it wasn’t really. My aim was just as horrible as it was when I started.

In that vein, I’d spent most of today at the shooting range, and when that got boring around midday I decided to wander the wall and take a look around some of the more abandoned sections. The wall was well over ten stories high - thirty something metres tall in its lower parts. However, in the guntowers it was more around forty metres. The lighthouse itself was a tower compared to that, pushing nearly ninety metres.

While the upper parts of the lighthouse were off limits, most of the wall was open. Provided you could prove who you were. Most of the hallways and rooms were abandoned; all of them scavenged and left for a day when they’d be needed for their space.

Something I noticed on the lower floors of the wall was the wall itself was no longer the bland concrete I’d gotten used to. It changed more to a cobblestone - a very ancient looking design. Perhaps the wall had been here before the rangers even arrived, and they just extended it? I’d have to find out for sure one day.

As it got later I eventually made my way back to the recruit barracks. I pushed the door open with my side and slipped in, observing the room briefly before a flash of green dove forward and pushed me back out the door and onto my back.

Allure was on top of me, a piece of paper in her teeth. A shocked look on her face as she stumbled up to her hooves, quickly realizing the position we were in.

“Allure!” I grumbled, getting to my own hooves and gritting my teeth. My leg started to ache where my fracture once was. “What the fuck!”

She spat the paper into my face the moment I was standing again. “Your sister works with Red Eye!?”

I froze up for a moment. Before she left, I vaguely recall Dust mentioning to me as a kid that ponies elsewhere in the wasteland would probably react to her job with more hostility than Darkwater Down. “Wh-... how the fuck do you know that?” I picked the paper up in my magic and brought it to my face.

_______

Dearest Brother

Have you been well? I haven’t heard from you in some time. I presume its because they’re not letting you write letters yet, or what you’re up to is just not interesting enough. Regardless, I have fantastic news.

I had a meeting with Master Red Eye today. I did intend to present it to him much more professionally, but he was curious and asked me first before I even had a chance. He wanted to know what my “Urgent Business” back home was.

I told him about Father’s death, and about and the breach in the wall, and he almost insisted that he send an envoy or party to offer assistance to the Rangers. The morning I write this, they have just been sent off! They should be there in a few days!

I hope some kind of agreement could be reached between us and the Rangers. Good things could come from this. Celestia knows that wall can never have enough guns on it.

Anyway, that was all I had to say. Please remember to write back soon brother. I’m anxious to hear what you’ve been up to in these few months.

~Dust

________

Damn it!

How old was this letter? Envoys from Fillydelphia were coming. I was probably going to be in Penumbra when they arrived! I was such an idiot. I really should have wrote back to her sooner and told her I’d finished basic and became a ranger. I’d need to write it and send it before I left tomorrow morning.

Wait, I was forgetting something here.

“Wait, you read my fucking mail!” I growled back to her.

Her face went from concern to a blush, and then shame in the blink of an eye. Perhaps I’d been too loud…

“Well, it had no name on it, I thought it was from Lemon…”

I shook my head and scrunched the letter up in my magic. “Whatever, it’s not a problem. Just keep your mouth shut about Dust, alright. Last thing I need is the ponies who I’m relying on to save me from unholy hellspawn find out my sister works with a slave lord.”

Allure pursed her lips. “Thats what I needed to tell you,” she blurted, out looking at the letter.

“What?” I grumbled back to her, forcing a smile and a wave down the hall as I saw our squad mates, Gloom and Soft Gale, exit from the stairwell and approach us.

Allure forced a smile too, leaning into my ear, keeping her face as uncompromising as stone. “Gloom is a fugitive in Fillydelphia.”

My smile dropped almost as fast as my stomach did.

“Ash, she used to be a slave.”

Book 1 - Chapter - 04

Tonight was an especially cold night, which meant that come tomorrow morning leaving the fort would be hell. The wind was howling, and the sheer force of the gale made the dead, leafless trees creak and groan. We’d been walking for a solid hour by that point. Soft Gale had taken us to The Wall and caught us a cart headed north. In the distance, I saw the smaller, less impressive lighthouses of Melancholy Bay, and the tiny flickering lights of the boats still braving the dead oceans. I had no idea where we were going, but we seemed to be a few miles out from Wayward Watch; the fortress built a few miles from the coast to overlook Melancholy Bay.

My eyes were fixed on Gloom as she walked, along silently gossiping with the athletic mare beside her. Anxiety had plenty of time to build during the long stretches as we walked. What had I done? Overall I knew that getting even a little assistance from Red Eye would help the Rangers. Beyond the Enclave, Red Eye was the dominant force in the whole of Equestria. Having a stallion that powerful helping the Rangers was no doubt a good thing.

Nopony ever gets out of Fillydelphia. Slaves were said to never be able to escape from that city, and once in a blue moon when one did, they were hunted down mercilessly by Red Eye’s hunters and trappers. A lot of them were recaught and made a proper example of, but those that weren’t perpetually lived a life on the run. The greatest irony was that Gloom was safer here than anywhere else. The gates to hell were somewhere the hunters and trappers would never think to look for her.

And I just led Red Eye right to her.

There was nothing I could do. The worst part of this all was a disgusting pit of shame in my stomach. One that teased me and kept reminding me that not only was this all my fault, there was nothing I could do to stop it.

I just hoped that those diplomats and envoys arrived when we were far into the Highlands, and were long gone when we returned.

We reached an elevator stop and Allure traded cigarettes with the soldiers standing around as we stood by waiting for the elevator to reach the top. I’d never been this far North along the wall, and I was noticing that. It was freezing here; the wind had a bitter and unforgiving chill to its usual bite. I definitely needed to pack warm clothes before we left.

We reached the bottom and followed a dirt path into a miserable and diseased looking woodland. Occasionally we wandered past a stallion hauling a massive cart filled with planks of lumber. They wore the baby blue vests the rangers gave out to hired civilian workers.

It took us awhile, but we made it to our destination in a small artificial clearing in the woods. I was amazed there were even living trees around me. While they were grey and deathly looking with murky green leaves blowing in the wind, they were, in fact, alive.

Ahead of us the clearing stretched perhaps a hundred metres in a wide circle. The area was covered in a light dusting of sawdust and woodchips and the air had a distinct and pleasant smell of freshly cut wood.

We’d arrived as most of the civilian workers were leaving the lumber yard and heading home for the night. All around us were giant logging machines - rusted shipping containers haphazardly converted into workshops that housed all manner of saws.

We met with a senior looking unicorn stallion wearing a ranger outfit (unlike his army of hired workers) in an old canvas tent. “I take it you are Allure,” he said, nodding to Allure before peering to me. “And you must be Ashes,” he added.

We both nodded, shaking hooves with the stallion. “Name’s Sapling, but folks call me Sap. You’ve got a strong body to you, Ashes. If you weren’t a ranger, you’d be right at home here. I could use more stock horses.”

I blinked and looked down at myself. If my coat wasn’t so dark I’d have probably blushed. “Uh, thanks?” I stammered, taking what I presumed was a compliment. I’d never been called ‘strong’ before, because I really wasn’t. I’d been called broad and stocky, but never strong. Perhaps he was just trying to be flattering, or he’d mistaken my large frame for strength.

Soft Gale tossed him some caps before we all headed off to a large container in the eastern corner. A stallion sighed as he lifted a small wooden crate up in his magic, rifling through it and digging out a number of small tools. He leant down and took out four tiny wooden disks only slightly bigger than a bottlecap. He spun them in his magic before setting them down on the workbench. On closer inspection, I could see that the sigil of the Alwhinny Rangers was seared into one side of all four of the disks; a simple rendition of the Wall and the lighthouse with two crossed swords behind it.

On the workbench, he separated them into pairs. “Now I hate to say such an embarrassing thing but...could you two show me your cutie marks?” he asked with a friendly enough looking smile. “We’re gonna make you two some identity tags”

Allure was more embarrassed than I was at the prospect. Perhaps she was just more defensive of such things as a mare, or perhaps it was because she was wearing more than I was and thus had to make more of a conscious effort to strip than I did.

I shifted my fatigues to show off my flank - a headstone with a chip taken out of the top of it. He nodded a thanks to me as he lifted a seal stamper and pressed the end down on the wooden chip. Magic wafts of smoke puffed up, and the workshop soon filled with the smell of burning wood as he took momentary glances at my cutie mark.

In the corner of my vision I saw Soft Gale lean in to peer at my cutie mark. “What the hell is that, a gravestone?” she asked, looking up at me.

“Yes.” I replied in a voice so standoffish I surprised myself.

She leaned back to stand properly “How do you get a cutiemark of a gravestone? Did you kill some guy as a colt?”

I sighed and shook my head to her “No, my family runs the Graveyard in Darkwater Down...or at least used to run it. I got my cutie mark for being good at burying bodies.”

“Oh, so if your destiny was to work at a graveyard, why did you join the Rangers?” she asked, looking into my face and cocking her eyebrow at me.

I shot Soft Gale a look and she seemed to get the message she was touching on some kind of nerve before she shrunk back “Right, sorry, I suppose it's none of my business.”

Sapling took the tool up and pushed it aside, and looked over to Allure who also held her own flank out, her green cheeks a flush red. I saw Soft Gale lean in and look at Allures flank as well.

It's possible I looked too.

“I-its a harpoon,” she said, leaning to show us a small, dull coloured picture with a blush before leaning back to Sapling. “My family are spear and harpoon fishers. I got really good with a speargun, and I just got it one day out fishing.”

Soft Gale nodded before trotting back to her spot. “Suppose that’s where you got the aim from?” the mare asked, getting a small nod in reply. “The way light acts in water it shifts the image of the fish slightly ahead of where it actually is." she explained "So if you want to be good at harpoon fishing, you gotta learn how and when to lead the target, how much to lead it and stuff.”

I looked to the thin mare as she trotted back to stand beside me, pulling my fatigues back over my flanks. “What about you, nosy? What's your cutie mark?”

Soft Gale’s face stretched into an embarrassed look. “Its uh...not important. You’ll see it some day.”

As if by karma, I also happened to touch a nerve choosing not to press the issue as Sapling finished Allure’s badge.

“Okay, so now we need something for the other one. We need a quote from you.” Sapling said, looking to us.

I gave her a confused look, and then gave that look to Soft Gale.

“It’s a scout tradition. If you die we have something to write on the memorial wall and gravestone. It also doubles as a safeguard for Descending Dreams,” Gloom's voice spoke up behind me.

“Descending Dreams?” I inquired to the small earthpony mare.

She shook her head. “Eerie can give you a unique kind of lucid dreaming sleep paralysis. Your brain can’t function legible sentences in your sleep, so having something to read close by is useful for checking if you’re dreaming or not,” she responded in a very rehearsed way. I had a feeling she’d repeated that same sentence a dozen times before.

I only had more confused looks to offer the mare. “It’s...complicated. I’ll tell you about it some other day. Don't worry about it for now.”

“A fish spared today is two caught tomorrow,” Allure spoke up softly, blushing again as she realized we’d gone quiet while she spoke. “It's just something Dad used to say…”

Sapling nodded, putting the tool back to the blank disk burning away before looking to me.

“Oh uh…how about...” I stammered trying to think of something thought provoking, before remembering back to the Pillbox on the wall this morning, “Rags that scheme, Steel that hates, Caves that Grow.”

Sapling nodded and got back to burning away “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Soft Gale questioned, looking to me.

I gave her a shrug “Just something I saw. Got me thinking when I read it. Can’t think of anything better to put down.”

Sapling burned and seared away on the tiny wooden disk before finally he leaned back, “There we are, two Ranger tag sets,” he mumbled, reaching over, taking another tool, and putting each disc under it and cranking a lever down to stamp it in. He punched a hole in each tag before he finally stood up and thread lengths of a thick string through them, passing them to me and Allure.

“Congratulations, you’re all official Ranger Scouts,” he smiled, slapping me on my shoulder as I tied the tags over my neck, letting the disks rest on my chest.

“Would love to stay around Sap, but we gotta’ go. We got a mission tomorrow morning, and we’re not going to get much done without sleep,” Gloom said warmly.

Sapling nodded and waved his hoof. “Not a problem. You two head on your way. I’ll catch you all some other day.”

We all said our pleasantries and left the logging camp. Heading back down along the dirt path toward the wall, Sapling yelled out and waved goodbye. “Good luck out there, you two!”

I looked back at Sapling as we walked, waving back to him. His chipper expression faded as he looked at us. He had the face of a stallion who had performed that same job a countless number of times before, and his clients never came back. I wondered if he expected me and Allure to die too.

I wouldn’t blame him.

For some reason that night, as I lied in my cot, staring at the ceiling trying to snatch what little sleep I could between the anxiety and excitement, I thought about the days to come, and the mission that lied ahead. I made peace as best I could that night, because I was probably going to die before this month was done.

As it became evident I would get no more sleep tonight I gave up and forced my sheets off my body and pushed myself from my cot. I quietly left the recruit barracks and walked down the halls, searching briefly for one of the hallway clocks. Eventually, I came to the deserted ‘library’ and administration rooms.

Two in the morning. Two and a half hours before I’d need to make my way to the armory. Plenty of time, I thought as I entered.

The library of the Lighthouse fort was a large room. It was as long as they could make it; four vaguely bedroom sized rooms with their walls knocked down, the width however was much more limited giving the library an extraordinary length for a room in the wall but shallow width.

On the North side was a collection of faded and rusted metal desks, each holding a terminal that glowed with weak, green screens. One computer was occupied by an old mare who peered back at me as I stepped in. She offered me a weak smile before looking back to stare at her screen. The edges of the room were populated by bookshelves, which were so numerous and so identical it was almost like the room had nothing but shelves for walls.

I headed to the empty administration desk and took two dirty ancient pieces of paper. I took the equally ruined pen and a carved wooden inkwell in my magic and trotted to one of the dozens of wooden tables..

_______

Dear Sister

Sorry I haven’t wrote to you in all this time. I’ve been fairly busy, and Ranger work is not at all interesting enough to talk about. Though a great deal has happened since I arrived. Two hours from now I will leave with the First Recon Company on my first expedition into Penumbra. I got promoted after training exercise went wrong. Apparently I seemed good enough to promote.

My squad leader is Captain Speakeasy. I’m not entirely sure if you remember or even know who he is, but he’s pretty famous around here. I’m glad I have him watching my stupid self. I feel a lot safer.

Just an update, as I write this your Envoys are not here yet, and I will likely not even be at the base when they do. Regardless, thank you for being worried enough to write.

Anyway that’s all I have to write about. I’ll write to you the day I get back to the fort, but that might be a few days if not weeks, depends how well things go.

~Ash

_____

I took the letter in my magic and gave it a few gentle shakes to let the ink dry before I slide it to one side, taking the blank paper, dipping my pen in the ink and beginning my second letter. As much as I resisted I let out a silent yawn my eyes growing heavy as I put the nib to the paper and began work.

_______

Dear Sister

If you are reading this, I have died.

Dad was right, I am so sorry, don’t grieve too hard about me.

This was nobody’s fault but my own.

~Ash

_____

* * * * * * * *

I’d been walking for a little bit. The world was a void to me. An endless flat plain of swirling purple and angry shapes just beyond my vision. There was no sound, there was no taste, no light. Just the swirling sickly purple surrounding me on all sides. Until a shape produced itself in the distance.

A wall - it stretched as far as my vision would allow. As I grew closer I noticed that it wasn’t just any wall, it was THE wall. Towering higher than my vision could permit was the mighty Lighthouse. Her reassuring glare of light pierced the clouds like they weren’t even there. I could tell from the angle and the silhouette of the wall that I was on the Equestrian mainland side of the wall.

With little where else to go I headed to the Grand Gates - the mighty triangular portal through the wall separating the wasteland from the land where daylight never shined.

“Hello…?” I yelled out. My voice quickly being swallowed by the clouds and the dark as I stood in the massive hall where the Grand Gates would be. The lanes dead, the booths empty, and the gates wide open.

I sighed to myself, wandering the lonely void. My hooves clattered silent and echoless against the concrete floor as I finally reached the open mouth of the gate. I stared out into the Penumbra side of the Wall. A piercing shiver rushed up my spine. I could feel myself tense up, and my body begin to break into a cold sweat as I was filled with a great sense of dread.

Something was out there. Something was coming.

“Why are your gates open, mister?” a soft, melodic yet distinct accent and innocent young filly's voice asked from behind me.

I snapped myself around staring back into the hall of the Grand Gate seeing the distorted silhouette of a distinctly filly shaped creature. I couldn’t manage a reply. I was...scared - terrified even. Where the hell was I and what was going on? Who was this girl, and why was I so scared of her?

“You have all these defenses...it's so tall and big. Most ponies never get this kind of protection, but you have it and you leave the gates wide open…” she continued. The silhouette of her head scanned the massive hall. Her whole body spinning around to look. She eventually moved her head back, gazing out the open hole of the Penumbra side. Her ears twitched as she listened deeply.

I heard it too - a sound like rushing water from beyond the horizon. A sound so alien and so unbearable it made the inside of my head ache. It was a sound so nightmarish I could not even hope to describe it. It flooded toward us, showing no intent to stop. It was somewhat on par with the most unbearable electronic screech mixed with the sound of feedback from a dying microphone, only so much worse.

“H-he’s coming...no...no I’m so sorry! I Ied him right to you!” the filly suddenly cried out, her voice in a great deal of distress. Her shadowed head turned to me, “Y-you can’t let him in! No matter what, mister, please!”

The sound grew louder, and the torrent grew closer. A tidal wave was coming, and the pain only grew. At first it was little more than a headache, but soon my vision blurred, my stomach grew weak, and my body began to recoil. The sound became an impenetrable din. A symphony of pure hell. My vision failed, and soon I fell to my knees, screaming out in agony.

A thousand nails drove into my skull at once. My screams seemed only to bleed into the torrent of unbearable sound. A foul warm liquid drooled from my nose, and I tasted rusted iron in my mouth.

“N-no! Don’t let him in!” the fillys voice screamed to me, her voice clear and gentle over the static. Her screeches were a relief compared to this all. “He likes to pretend, and he keeps pretending until you let him in!”

I clutched my head with my hooves, and in a final burst of adrenaline I roared out as loud as I could, throwing my hooves up and stomping. I forced my body to my hooves as I stumbled, pushing back against the agony to storm my way toward the sound.

I forced my eyes open to face the swirling mass of purple. My bleary eyes barely able to focus on one object in the fog; a tall and thin figure, but definitely a male one trotting toward me with grace. He had a poise much too refined and perfect for this hell.

He stepped toward me as I stormed toward him. My teeth grit so hard my jaw was about to snap.

He stopped only a few feet from me before I heard what sounded to be a horde of ponies, mares, fillies, stallions, colts,and even the distinct exotic throngs of a Zebra's tongue and the deep bellows only a griffin’s mighty chest could sound.

“Interesting...” the choir of voices chanted each voice sounding just as curious and enthralled as the last.

* * * * *

I jolted out of my seat with a yelp, my head flinging up and spinning around. I was back in the library. I looked up and saw the confused face of Allure looking down at me, her body poised as if she’d frozen after trying to wake me up.

“Y-you alright Ashes…?” she whispered, worriedly staring down at me as I panted. I was filled with relief that it was all just a deeply terrifying nightmare.

I swallowed and nodded, waving my hoof to her. “D-don’t worry about it...just a bad dream is all.” I breathed deeply, rising up on the bench and holding a hoof to my chest as I felt my heart racing. I took slow deep breaths to calm down. What the fuck was that? What did I eat to have a nightmare that messed up? I had to calm down. It was just some creepy nightmare. Apparently you got more nightmares closer to Penumbra, and that's all it was. A nightmare.

She nodded. “Listen, I’ve been looking for you. It's four thirty. We need to get to the armory. You’re already late.”

I nodded my face, screwing up as my tongue licked the roof of my mouth and met the tang of rusted iron and copper. I shook my head in disgust.

“Is...something wrong Ash?”

“No...no, it’s nothing. Let’s go,” I mumbled back to her, forcing myself to my hooves. I took the letters I’d left on the desk and stuffed them into the pocket of my fatigue. We quickly exited the room and ran downstairs rushing toward the armory and locker room stopping on the way at the tiny post office which sat a few halls down from where we were headed.

The postage office was fairly boring, but it worked for the rangers. It was just a couple dozen ponies that worked for a few caps and a warm dry place to stay. They were typically just hapless couriers that risked death to get things delivered.

They usually delivered letters to Alwhinny county for free, and for three caps you could get them to deliver something to Manehattan (given the address was reachable). Any further than that you were paying a lot of caps, and I really doubt I could get any of them to even dare go near Fillydelphia.

I passed him the first letter, telling him about the Red Eye envoys coming in a few days. “Ask if they can carry this back to Fillydelphia. Tell them I am Private Ashes, that I am the younger brother of Councillor Dust, and this is a letter for her.”

The buck nodded looking up and down at me judgingly “Councillor Dust? whats a buck related to a Red Eye councilor doing on the wall, ay?” he asked in an odd accent I could not even hope to place.

“Don’t worry about it, just do me a favor would you?” I responded tiredly as I passed him a few caps tip, heading off with Allure and running the rest of the way to the locker rooms and the armory.

We busted in to a silent room with our compatriots already half kitted up to go. Soft Gale giggled at us from the far side of the room while the brown stallion I now knew as Corporal Express Route rolled his eyes. Speakeasy wasn’t in the room, nor Tall Tale.

“Found him - he was passed out in the Library,” Allure said walking, over to her pile of gear sitting atop a bench.

Built into the far wall from the door was an opening into a room behind this one, the opening built into the concrete was lined with steel and a bullet proof plexiglass. Behind it was a very tired and aged looking unicorn mare with a smoldering cigarette in her lips who gestured me over. As I approached she sauntered out of my vision, and returning promptly with a pile of my own equipment. She shoved it into the drop box and slid the hatch open for me.

“Extra large - same size as your leathers,” she croaked, taking a drag on her cigarette before continuing, “Standard ceramic flak jacket with additional ceramic shoulder pads.” She trotted away in another direction and returned with a bolt action rifle and a combat knife along with a small dirtied and ruined cardboard box of ammunition and several clips for the rifle.

She put it all down in the slot under her bullet proof alcove. “Standard issue bolt action; five loaded clips, and 100 extra bullets.” she said, a hoof on the rifle before leaning over to the knife, “Standard issue combat knife, seven inch, carbon steel, has a compass in the hilt,” she mumbled out in a rehearsed manner.

I nodded and thanked her, taking my gear and my weapons in my magic. The new gear I got was noticeably heavier. I looked at it as I walked to a spare spot in the benches. Up until now I’d been wearing standard issue for recruits - just a really simple set of boiled leather armor which really sucked for anything more than teeth and claws. I suppose that was the point. Recruits were too useless for actual combat, and all they really had to worry about this close to the wall was the odd mutant.

The combat barding looked ancient; it was an eerie thought to think that some grunt back in the actual war may have been wearing this exact armor. I pushed that thought back as I stripped my fatigues off and stepped into the undersuit, zipping it up with my magic. It was very breathable - perhaps weaved with some kind of magically infused silk. It probably couldn’t exactly stop much in the way of bullets, but it wasn’t meant to.

That's what the plates were for. The undersuit had a rigging woven into it for the plates. I heaved the heavy vest over my head and wrapped it around my body, closing the clasps and tightening it around my chest.. After that, I slotted each of the additional ceramic plates into their proper place.

I stepped over to a mirror, and, while nobody was looking, smirked proudly at myself. Deep within a giddy foal woke up and observed my own large armored stature. I used to have dreams that I’d get to kit up like a Ranger, and here I was all these years later actually doing that.

Using the mirror as a guide I slid my combat knife into its leather sheath and slotted it into a strap on my shoulder. I fitted my bags and pack over my body, slipping all my clips into their place around my belt before finally slinging the rifle over my shoulder and letting it rest at my side. I made sure to take my letter out of my fatigues and put it back into my armor, and finally putting my boots back on.

“Don’t we get helmets?” I heard Allure ask the mare, now just about as finished with her gear as I was.

Gloom shook her head at the mare. She pulled her mane back and tied it to keep it out of her face. Her mane still kept its straight non nonsense bangs but now she kept the rest of her mane tied up behind her head in a short ponytail “Not if you’re a scout - it's not standard issue.” she replied.

I could see Allure’s face as she tried to mimic her superior’s behavior; pulling her own mane back and tying it.

“Helmets are noisey. They get in the way, and can obstruct vision. All bad traits for a pony meant to be scouting,” Soft Gale piped up, adding to Gloom’s speech. “At least that's what we’re told. Personally I think it's because the heavy soldiers need them more.”

Allure nodded as the door swung open, and in stomped the huge armored figure of Speakeasy, just as imposing as the day we met on the roof. He looked around observing all of us.

He trotted over to Allure, taking her rifle in his magic before trotting back to the quartermaster and passing it back. “Cola, I would like a cast-scope put on this rifle.”

The mare snorted and gave him a short laugh as she butted her cigar out in ashtray. “And I want to live in Tenpony and have fifteen griffin butlers, but I don’t get what I want,” she replied. “Cast-scopes are way too valuable and way too in demand to pass out, Speak, especially not to a private’s rifle.”

“She is my sniper pony. I need her to be able to use this at a distance.”

The elderly mare named Cola shrugged. “What can I do, Speak? Rules are rules. Something that valuable doesn’t go to a recruit.”

Speakeasy sighed and fished out a bunch of caps, dropping them under the slot. “Okay, well, I need a Cast-Scope for my rifle - me; Captain Speakeasy First Recon.” the massive unicorn said, giving her a wink.

The mare sighed and swore under her breath, taking a pad of papers out and scribbling down on it before throwing it away. She snatched the caps and the rifle, and soon returned with an odd shaped purple and black scope attached to the top of the weapon.

“You know the Council said they’d be cracking down on this? It's your flank on the line, not mine,” Cola grumbled to him, shoving the rifle back under the screen.

Speakeasy took the rifle in his magic, floating it back to Allure and putting it on the bench before her.

“Sure, I will be keeping this in mind,” Speakeasy sung back smugly to the mare before trotting over and giving me a curious look up and down.

Allure’s face was bright red as she spoke up, “S-sir, How do I use this? It’s just...blank. There's nowhere to look in?”

“It's not for your eyes, it's for your magic. Thermals and UV scopes don’t work in Eerie. Only thing that can cast through it is magic. The caster amplifies your spells and shoots them out in a straight line - kind of like a laser pointer, except with your magic. you can actually see pretty far into the Eerie with those.’

Speakeasy nodded to Allure. “What Gloom said; illumination spells work best. When we get to the Eerie front I will let you try it out, but for now we need to get going. The clock is ticking, and I want to meet the Eerie front by dusk.”

The brown stallion spoke up, “Where’s Tall Tale?”

“At the gates already, chatting with our clients,” Speakeasy answered with a short yawn, walking to the door and pushing it open. “Let's go, fillies and mares. What is the expression; daylight is smoldering?” he laughed jovially, pushing the door open as we all stood up and followed him out into the winding hallways.

After walking the wall’s labyrinth of corridors we finally met a massive steel door guarded by two armed rangers. They nodded to us as we entered into a massive room. The largest I think I’d ever seen on the wall.

The room was adorned with all kinds of shapes and patterns. It was almost regal, like we’d stepped into the court of Canterlot to meet the royalty. The room was impossibly loud; there had to be a hundred ponies in here. I could see the occasional towering figure of some massive griffin, and even the occasional set of black and white stripes amongst the crowd.

They were all lined up in massive lanes separated by huge chain link fences. The furthest few lanes looked to be for carts and caravans, and the closer you got to the south side of the room the more narrow they got until it was a line for pony pulled carts. The last line seemed to be for ponies and travelers.

I knew where we were, it was exactly like it was in my dream. Just a lot more crowded and a lot louder.

The Grand Gates of Alwhinny; filtering and sifting through a tide of a thousand ponies a day, both coming in and out of the Highlands.

Where we were wasn’t crowded. This appeared to be a reserved area for special interest and VIPs, as the fences and gates to this area were shut by fearsome looking locks. All of them were guarded by rangers wearing some kind of riot gear in case disarray and chaos broke out, which it very often did in a place like this.

To our left was a large cart which was hauled by a rather miserable looking cow. It was very unusual to see cattle safe from mutation, but they did exist. This one stood around munching on hay boredly. As the shape and figure of our comrade Tall Tale conversed with a thin and lanky looking earth pony stallion with a very thick frizzy mane, which gave him the look of some DJ at a discotheque.

He was perched on the back of the caravan. He looked about my age, perhaps a few years younger, and he had a very pathetic looking level of facial hair. The look of a colt who was trying to grow it out, perhaps to look older, but his own body and hormones were letting him down.

I’d been there.

I would have beaten him in all aspects of age and maturity, but out of the caravan he sat in crawled a tiny figure; a filly little over cutie mark age. She was a rich velvety purple, her mane was a long and flawless late evening blue dotted with brilliant white in it, and her cutie mark was a big welcoming looking star which stuck out as if it really were a bright speck on the nighttime sky.

She had apparently caught me staring at her and had began to stare at me herself. Her huge foalish eyes stared deeply into my eyes.

Was it curiosity? Maybe it was simply a foal trying to get back at me. I didn’t pay it much mind, eventually looking away to Tall Tale who spun around taking a bored drink from his mouthpiece as his old tired voice spoke up.

“We’re all ready to move out.”

Speakeasy nodded and smiled, talking briefly to the lanky young stallion to which the latter smiled in response and nodded cheerfully.

Speakeasy turned back and smiled to us. “Well look at this, Hearthswarming in October.” Speakeasy chuckled warmly before walking next to the cart and hurling his pack off into it. The tiny filly skipping aside to avoid the pack. “Mister Sticky here has graciously agreed to let us rest our non-essential gear in his cart. Are you not all so lucky this day.” the old stallion cried out, his voice laced with a sarcastic but harmless tone.

I wondered if Speakeasy was always in this good a mood for a mission.

We all threw our gear into the back one by one. Gloom and Soft Gale went first, and then Allure, the brown stallion who I'd learned was named Express Route, and lastly myself.

“North!” I heard the Lanky stallion scold, reaching up to poking the filly harshly with his hoof. “You know that staring is rude, young mare!”

I turned my head up in time just to see the face of the young filly looking away in shame, her face bright red in embaressment. Evidently she’d been staring at me.

The lanky stallion pursed his lips and turned to me. “Don’t mind her, brother, she’s not out havin’ a go. She’s just young. Name is Sticky Wicket by the way,” his accented voice addressed me.

I gave a disarming chuckle in response turning to face the guy. “Don’t worry about it, she’s a cute filly. Is she yours?” I asked trying, my best to make conversation as we waited around for Speakeasy to trot to the gates and get the guards to open them up.

“Aye, my pride and joy in this dark world of ours. My misses and I did name her Hop Skip, but uh... ever since the cutie mark she wants us to call her North Star. So that's her name; North Star.”

I nodded, looking to the filly who continued to stare at me, and gave her a nod and a smile before my eyes snapped to the sound of a sudden klaxon barking a single tone. Before us, two large chain link gates shuttered and slid open the guards and their riot gear moving into to place to ward off any that would take the opportunity.

“Let’s get this show on the road, da?” Speakeasy yelled, “First Recon! On me!” he said, beginning to walk out the gate. departing out of the massive ornate Grand Gates of Alwhinny, and for the first, and maybe, last time.

* * * * * * * * *

The roads into Alwhinny remained crowded before they slowly bled away into nothing. Perhaps an hour or two after we left we had become the only feature to be seen on this road. A lone caravan trundling slowly along the ruined asphalt, escorted by a half dozen rangers clad in grey and black.

For some reason I had expected something more epic. For all the hype and all the terror and mystique, my experience with the infamous Penumbra Highlands thus far had been thoroughly unremarkable. As the massive wall shrunk behind us the highlands had been little more than a ruined asphalt road, and an almost serene unending mass of rolling hills carpeted in dead grass and cracked Earth with the occasional ruined homestead or cabin.

The road itself was impressive enough I suppose. It was massive, some kind of highway which was almost six lanes wide. With little else to occupy myself with I let my imagination take control, it was almost amazing to imagine this highway back before the war, back before all these cracks and ruined patches where the earth had reclaimed the road. How busy this highway had to be back then.

And now we were all that remained, a single cart a hoofful of soldiers and the occasional ruined truck, trailer or cart.

It was almost peaceful - some would even call it boring. All around me the rangers conversed and joked. Allure had been getting along with Soft Gale. Speakeasy had been chatting quietly with Tall Tale, so quietly that the only thing I heard was the raspy cackle and the jovial, deep chuckle of the both of them on occasion. Express Route chatted with Sticky Wicket, and Gloom enjoyed her own company much like how I was.

One thing remained the same though. North Star’s tiny face would still peek over the back of the cart and spy on me. What was it that she was so curious about, I wondered. I had looked back at her on occasion, even gave her the occasional soft smile or nod, but if I so much as looked back at her she’d duck away and hide from my sight.

Thinking about what it was she wanted was all that I had to keep my mind busy for a while, until dark and frightening shapes reared their ugly heads, crawling out from the mighty curving horizon. Their points looked almost razor sharp. Their edges jagged and fearsome like the back of some kind of demonic knife. Their sharp peaks towered above the earth, pointing up and stabbing into the clouds blanketing the skies.

“Celestia be damned…” I heard Allure say, her eyes glued to the peaks. “Those are huge…”

I heard Speakeasy chuckle. “Better hope you never see Umbra Bluff, then. Those there just The Triplets, far from the tallest mountains out here,” Speakeasy said.

As I stared at the fearsome peaks I noticed that they were obscured in a thick swirling filter. The distant mountains were hiding behind a dark purple fog. As soon as I noticed it, I couldn’t unnotice it. What I initially thought was the overcast sky quickly came to light as a much more fearsome sight which stretched in massive black plumes rising across the curve of the whole of the horizon.

The Eerie.

For the first time in my life I was seeing the most infamous aspect of the this whole region. The massive angry swirling clouds of Eerie; the toxic fog that gave the Highlands their unnatural but characteristic eternal night.

I swallowed hard as we continued to walk toward it. Suddenly the highlands regained that familiar dread. Walking out here in the bright overcast had made me forget that. This whole region was trapped in a never ending darkness.

The night that never ended.

My daze was ended when Speakeasy hollered out warmly that he spotted a ruin on the distant. “Ahah, Coyote Rest Stop,” he said, pointing out a ruined and abandoned service station. “We meet again, old friend!”

Beneath the sign, which would typically hoist the some huge banner up and advertise the prices of their services, was a rather grim and miserable looking statue. It appeared to be some cartoonish looking dog which stood on its hind legs welcoming visitors into the stop, but decades in the elements without maintenance had left it ruined. Its colours faded, and half its canine head was caved in.

Speakeasy leant in and gave it a cynical looking kiss on its open coyote muzzle. “Where is my darling Coyote! Where is she, huh? Have you been looking after her, mister!” Speakeasy addressed the statue as giddy as a foal would, galloping to the roller door to the Service station, his hooves reaching down to try lift it.

The service station looked to have had work done to it. The main administration building, while decrepit, had once looked to have its windows boarded up and fortified with scrap metal. The rusted remnants of barbed wire swirled around rotten looking wooden frames dotted the roads and all around the perimeter of the rest stop.

This place looked like it was once the home for something; a miniature base long since abandoned. I looked over, and my jaw opened in shock as the roller door Speakeasy hauled screeched loudly, rusted hinges and chains shifting, lifting the door up.

There, in one of the stalls made for a cart, stood a fearsome machine. An amalgamation of treads in the shape of almighty rhombus’, a mass of rusted and painted armor plates. The most prominent feature of all sat on top; a hard edged base that hefted a massive tube which stuck out above the machine. Printed in crude white paint across this base was a faded name this machine had once been donned “Coyote”

“Holy fuck, is that a tank?” I blurted out, unable to help myself from swearing before I clutched my mouth in my hooves. I was embarrassed as I realized I’d just swore in front of some stallion's foal.

“Indeed it is, private Ashes,” Speakeasy smiled, staring the machine up and down. “Not just any tank; an M-58 ‘Humble-pie’, my only love in this world.” I stared confused at the sight as a stallion twice my age climbed up onto the body of this massive machine, dusting the debris off the name. “How are you my sweetheart, are you well?” he chuckled to himself.

Tall Tale had apparently noticed my confused look and stepped up beside me. “Speakeasy used to be the gunner of Coyote. His first role was a tank operator when the Rangers still used these fuckin’ things.”

I turned to the ghoul and raised my brow to him. “The Rangers used to have tanks?”

Tall Tale gave a curt nod. “We used to have a LOT of them actually, the Rangers fielded at least a dozen of these things across all of the highlands. We also had almost double that with infantry fighting vehicles,” the ghoul croaked in his ancient voice. “Rangers used to run these goddamn highlands, Ash. Nothing short of the Zebras leftover from the invasion could deal with the hardware we fielded.”

I looked back at the tank aptly named “Coyote” as my commander had ceased to be just that, and had reverted to some kind of colt as he threw the hatch of the tank open and slipped into the belly of the frightening war machine.

“So...why did we stop using them? I think a tank is a pretty big asset to just have sitting in some garage.”

Tall Tale shrugged. “Number of reasons; they were way too fuel hungry, we couldn’t afford to the ammo for the cannons, plus these things are steam powered. We just didn’t have the coal for it anymore but it was mainly because they were too cumbersome and slow. After the Ranger War, we just locked the tanks up and let the Steel Rangers become our walking tanks.”

“The Ranger War?”

Tall Tale chuckled. “Oh yeah, I suppose that was way before you were born, right?” the old ghoul sighed out, his lips pulling into a smile. “The Alwhinny Rangers butted heads with the Steel Rangers about...it has to be fifty years ago, now. Some chapter from Manehattern, they showed up one day and uh...not so politely demanded we surrender the Wall to their command.”

I nodded as I kept staring at the tank, listening to the sound of hoofs clanging on steel as my commander climbed around inside it. “What happened?”

“We refused; obviously, so war,” Tall Tale responded. “A really big war for, you know, wasteland standards. It went for a while, and it was a hard slog, but we managed to push them back. The survivors remaining surrendered unconditionally. We absorbed most of the more lenient of the Manehattern chapter, with the hardliners refusing to back down and retreating back to Manehattern.”

“Thought you said we dominated this region?” I asked.

Tall Tale nodded weakly in response. “We did. We dominated all of it, pretty much, bar the occupied cities. Nobody could beat us, and we got used to winning. Then an army of stallions and mares in power armor showed up, and we severely underestimated how much we could take,” the ghoul said. “Trust me, I was there Ash. One Steel Ranger is as good as a dozen rangers. Power armor is faster and more agile than a tank, and they can carry the same firepower. We may have won the war, but they sure as hell left some scars we could never hope to heal.”

Tall Tale shrugged. “Well, Speak is on a nostalgia trip for the hour…” the old ghoul sighed, shaking his head before spinning around to the rest of the Rangers. “Hour for lunch then I guess. Rest the legs, fillies.”

Express Route looked to Tall Tale with a slight look of concern before looking to the mountains in the distance. “We have time for that?”

“Yeah, we’ll be okay, we’re only about three hours from the Eerie front. Besides Speak doesn’t want us to go into the fog until dusk. Make the most use of that light.”

Soft Gale stretched her legs out and sat down her back to the cartwheels. Tall Tale wandered over and started rooting in his pack, sitting at the back of the Caravan.

“Why do you and Speak have to use female adjectives as something negative, Tale? Some mares find that offensive, you know,” she tutted to the stallion with a proud smirk on her face.

Tall Tale gave her a rasping cackle in response. “Soft Gale, sweetheart, I’m two hundred and sixty eight years old. Give me a break. Besides, you’re the only one saying I meant it negatively, maybe I was complimenting you all and saying you were all outstanding young mares.”

I shot out a quiet laugh as I walked passed to the rear of the caravan. I could hear Allure giggle, and I saw Gloom smile and roll her eyes. I was met once again by the large curious eyes of the filly North Star, who stared at me as I flipped my pack open with my magic and fetched out a small protein bar. I took a bite out of it as I stared back at her.

“W-we need to get out of here, Mister,” she whispered to me with a melodic and innocent young voice. Her tone was that of somepony truly terrified.

I raised a brow at her, leaning into her so nobody would hear me talk. “Sorry? why is that?” I spoke up before giving her as good a smile I could. “You don’t need to worry about Monsters and stuff, young mare. We’re Rangers - we can protect you,” I responded, trying to sound as much like a tough guy as possible..

“N-no, we’re not safe...you let him in...” North Star said, staring at me, her eyes wide and terrified. “And now he’s coming to find you.”

Book 1 - Chapter - 05

“Only two kinds o’folk show up to the Skiddish Mare this late; drunkards and travellers. Which one are you, colt?” The old bartender asked as he cleaned out a cracked and ruined glass foggy with two hundred years of scratches and dust.

I took a moment tapping my hoof on the counter as I thought of an answer. It’d been awhile since I’d had to converse with a real pony. “Traveller, I suppose, though I wish I was drunk. It's so fucking cold out there it’d probably make the walk back home to Darkwater easier.”

The bartender smirked at my weak attempt at humor and pushed the glass under the counter. “Well then, how can this old buck help you with a cold walk back home, hmm?” he asked gesturing to the stew over his fire. “Got food. I do got drinks, but this time of year I’m afraid all we got is the Ciders - the orchards are the only places with greenhouses.”

I licked my lips at the prospect of the first real food in years. Alcohol was also something I hadn’t been allowed either. Some would have probably called me an alcoholic, but I just liked to drink I guess. “Gimme a bowl of whatever's left in the pot, and a nice tall glass of Raspy Acre’s.”

He chuckled, taking a pint glass out and placing it in front of me as he got a bowl and moved over to the fire to collect a few ladles of the stew. When he brought it back, I pursed my lips and stared at the pint glass before looking to him. “Don’t mean to sound rude, but got anything bigger?”

The bartender chuckled, taking the glass and putting it away before getting what looked to be some kind of tankard from long long before the war, perhaps back before ponies could even mass produce the glass. “Its kinda old, but I mean I’ll wash it out for you,” he said moving over and easing a rusty faucet, a weak stream of water washing out over the tankard.

My horn flickered to life, taking the spoon set beside the bowl and began to eat.

“So, what's a young lad like you doing travelling? Colts your age ain’t got no business walking the highways.”

I stopped for a moment, once again tapping my hoof on the counter. “It’s not so bizarre right? Alwhinny County is one of the only places left in the world where a pony can walk alone on a highway. A colt my age travelling is no weirder than say...you having working lights or running water right?”

He gave a nod of conceit. “Suppose you are right, but that's just what I mean. Alwhinny’s got police and working prisons. We got electricity, water, jobs and such - schools and farms. Life’s pretty good up here, compared to the rest of the wasteland. So what's a colt like you doing so far from home,” he asked, placing a ruined off-white cigarette into his mouth and lighting it before offering me one.

I was tempted to accept, but I shook my head. “No thanks, I promised myself I’d quit before I got home.”

I took the tankard in my magic and drank from it. “I’ve been...away for a few years. I’m going back home to visit my old dad. I got something I need to settle with him.”

“Is that so?” The old stallion said raising a brow. “Awfully young to be a ranger aren't you?”

I shook my head at him. “Nice guess, but I’m not in the Rangers. Not yet at least, though I can’t imagine being a Ranger was much different from what I was actually up to.”

He gave an understanding nod, tapping his cigarette over the ashtray before placing it back between his lips. “So, what were you actually doing, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Well let’s just say…” I responded looking out the window of the old ruined tavern watching the huge beam of the lighthouse sweep over the night sky. “I was doing a job my father was too scared to do himself.”

* * * * * * * *

It was impossible! How could she know? This wasn’t possible. There was no way she could know what my dream was. This little filly was just fucking with me. It was a game she was playing.

I didn’t know what reaction to give. Part of me wanted to blurt out some demand for more answers, but another more sensible part of me realized how insane that would look. Indecisiveness instead took precedence and I froze, staring this filly in the face.

“P-please mister, we need to go back...back to the wall...something bad is going to happen, I just know it!” she whispered as loud as she could. Her expression was even, not pleading, not worried, the only thing betraying the filly was the dampness of her brow, she wasn’t fearful. It was dread that plagued her, the inescapable weight of it pressing on her meek frame.

I felt a hoof touch my shoulder, trying to move me as a voice spoke. I almost jumped out of my own skin at the sudden foreign sensation.

It was Gloom, and she was giving me a curious yet concerned glare before looking to the filly. North had promptly shut up as Gloom appeared.

“Private Ashes, when you’re grabbing something to eat, make sure to grab your mask. We will be approaching the dunes, and the stormfront itself soon enough.”

North Star had made up her mind it seemed. She was keeping her mouth firmly shut unless we were alone. Gloom continued to stare at me as I hastily grabbed some protein bar and took the satchel containing my mask, slung it around my neck with my magic and unwrapped the bar to bite into it.

“The Dunes?” I heard the ever inquisitive Allure speak out. “Dunes of what?”

Tall Tale eased in between me and Gloom, switching out canisters on his rig. “Dunes of Eerie Dust,” the croaky ghoul responded, backstepping and lifting a rotten hoof up to point to the horizon. “It's hard to see. We’re still a ways away from it, but that tiny line of purple under the storm--that’s the beginnings of them. The stormfront usually shifts back and forth, and it will dump and swallow dunes of the dust like sand in a sandstorm,” the old ghoul said slipping the hose into his mouth and taking a slow drink from his water canteens. “Most of Penumbra is covered in a blanket of dust, kinda like walking in a desert, but the dunes are where it gets particularly bad. They’re wide enough and tall enough to swallow a whole city. We’re not going that far into the Dunes, but any distance into them is far enough in my opinion.”

Sticky Wicket looked back to us from the front of the cart. “Like, sand dunes,” He asked, “How are we gonna get this cart through?”

“If we were on hoof we’d just hike them, which is dangerous as hell, but if you’re with a cart you take the tunnels that go underneath the dunes,” Tall Tale responded. “Those sound safer, but they’re not--not really. The tunnels are just as dangerous. All sorts of shit likes to move into them and use them to shelter from the storms. We’re taking Tunnel C under Safehouse Tempo east of here in an old roadside diner.”

Sticky Wicket nodded. “Ah, you mentioned that safehouse. That's where I’m leaving Big?” He asked, petting the large cow standing boredly in front of his cart.

“Exactly,” Speakeasy said, returning from his nostalgia trip, and taking a sip from his canteen before slipping it back in his belt. ”Safehouse Tempo knows we are coming, and they have got provisions ready. Those were delivered a few days ago, and they’ll look after your cow friend while we do our work.”

Sticky Wicket gave an understanding nod.

“Shall we be getting on the road?” Speakeasy asked, trotting back the garage, stepping up tall on his hind legs to haul the massive roller door back closed. “You have the air testing kit, Corporal Express?”

The brown stallion nodded back to him. “It’s ready to take out when we need it.”

“Excellent. I want you to take air samples every three clicks from now on. I would be liking to make our breathing of Eerie as minimal as possible.” our commanding officer mumbled, bringing his watch to his face to check the time.

Sluggishly, our party began its journey once more. The cart and its occupants trundled along the ruined asphalt as we moved down the road. The long boring stretches of nothing were broken up by pauses from Corporal Express Route and Captain Speakeasy throwing a large brilliant white net through the air and pressing some small device to it. Presumably it was for testing the air every few kilometres.

My eyes kept wandering to the cart, to the concerned and somewhat frightened face of the young filly. Whenever our eyes met, she silently pleaded to me. I couldn’t keep my mind off of her. How the hell did she know what was going on in my dream? This had to be some freakish coincidence. It just wasn’t possible for her to have been in my dream.

It plagued my mind to the point where I was zoning out trying to make sense of it. I was only snapped out when I heard some exotic exploitive exit Speakeasy’s mouth. He had a look of concern on him as he peered from the blanket forward and back. “This is not right…” he muttered.

Curiosity got the best of me and I wandered over to the commotion. Gloom, Express Route, and Speakeasy were all there looking at the small device as it was pressed against the sheet of white fabric.

“What’s going on?” I questioned as I reached the group.

Speakeasy remained silent, peering ahead of us in deep thought. Gloom looked to him before looking back to me. “We’re at a quarter milligram per square inch now, that's right on the cusp of concerning intake of Eerie. In fact, I suggest we all stop worrying about why and put our goddamn masks on, its already way too toxic.”

Speakeasy swore in his native language again. “This doesn’t make sense. The marker from the last scout team is still nearly six kilometres forward. We should not have Eerie this thick already.”

“Speak, stop fucking worrying about it. So the storm creeped forward a few miles. Look at that fucking thing, Speak, does that look like something that cares where it's meant to be?!” Gloom shouted, pointing a hoof at the towering swirling mass of clouds, of which whispered a quiet roar of wind perforated by the occasional distant rumble of thunder.

Express Route nodded. “Yeah. If I may, I think you’re being a bit paranoid sir. If it was more than fifteen or twenty kilometres, then I can say you may have a point, but six is still perfectly acceptable. It’s been a stormy autumn. It's not unreasonable for the front to have crept forward a couple miles. It’s pretty normal, actually..”

Gloom rolled her eyes and shook her head. Our commanding officer didn’t respond. “Corporal, grab the marker flag from the cart and stick it out over there.” She punctuated her sentence by lifting a hoof to gesture to a patch of dead grass and sick looking soil. “Everybody else, unless you want cancer, put your masks on now. Stop wasting time, we’ve already breathed in way too much of it,” she yelled, slipping out her own rubbery mask from her saddle bag and yanking it over her head.

“Remember procedure, rangers; new filter every five hours. We have nearly two hundred of the things for this mission, so don’t be an idiot,” she said, standing back up and looking at me, her eyes glaring behind the glass lens. “For the love of the Princesses and all that is good in this world, don’t take chances with Eerie.”

I jolted, realizing what she said. My horn flared up and my magic flipped my bags open to take the mask out and slip it over my head. The dark black rubber squeezed over my face as my muzzle slipped into the airtight interior.

For a moment my breath drew in no air, and as I gasped for another my mask gave a silent whistle. A lungfull of tangy, foul chemical-tasting filtered air filled my lungs.

We all waited around as everybody got their masks on. Sticky Wicket helped his young daughter slip the mask on, whispering to her--no doubt picking up on her anxiety like any good parent would--and trying to calm her. Even under her mask, North Star looked terrified. It was beginning to have an effect on me. What if she was right? What if she was actually in my dream last night? What if something was actually coming for us?

I began to think on it more. Lemon Zest’s voice echoed in my head. What the fuck kind of parent takes their filly into Penumbra? Sticky Wicket looked reasonably smart and intelligent. Surely he would know better. What kind of pony exposes a child to the most dangerous place in the wasteland?

We’d been walking so long, and I was so distracted I’d hardly noticed the wind beginning to pick up. The meagre overcast daylight was bleeding away. It was so dark you could almost confuse it with dusk.

Ahead of us grew large imposing shapes. They were dark, almost like a small wall was building on the horizon. It took for my boot to come down in a soft crunch to figure out what I was seeing ahead of us.

The Dunes.

I paused to look at what my hoof had stept in, and I was met with a dark purple mound that wisped to and fro in the wind. It was Eerie dust. A pile of it stretched along the road, the lighter particles getting swept up in the breeze, and giving the piles a spooky almost ethereal look. Sand was a bad word for it. It was much too fine to be sand, it was much more on par with flour. My boot left a definite imprint in the dust which quickly bled away as it danced in the wind.

Eerie was a fitting name for what I was witnessing.

As I caught up with the group it only became more and more abundant. Soon the ground was engulfed in it--almost like snow--and it grew thicker and thicker still.

It only grew darker and the wind only grew louder. I heard a voice yell back, muffled by the wind, telling us to turn our lights on. My horn flicked the flashlight switch on my chest, casting a dim white light through the fog. I could see ahead as the slowly disappearing silhouettes had a light blink on one by one, revealing them once more.

Inside I felt something growing. A deep pit in my stomach grew. Dread began to bite away at me, and soon I was checking over my shoulder every few minutes. I was scared. Terrified, even. The wasteland, which I had once described as boring, was looking like a welcoming paradise now.

The air had to be taken in gulps, so dense it was as the grains of Eerie got wedged in the filter, the irksome rattling of pips against my mask and the wail of the daunting wind causing a layer of sweat to break out over my body. Visibility shrank by the second, my range of vision contracting and contracting till all I had for reference was the bobbing, dimmed lights of my comrades. It was like being immersed in bog water, thick and nauseating, the miasma whirling around us felt all encompassing, all engulfing.

On the right side of the road a huge silhouette came into focus. What started as a smudge became the definite shape of a building. I saw a hoof raise, signalling to hold as the silhouette of what I presumed was Speakeasy sauntered forward. His torch flickered on and off sporadically, presumably as a type of signal. We waited in that howling storm for what felt like an eternity before Speakeasy flicked the light in the same pattern, waiting again.

There was a longer pause before he flashed the pattern a third and final time. He signaled us to group up after the third pause of nothing. The line of rangers converged on his shape.

“No response…” Speakeasy said, staring at the building, his voice slow and concerned.

Gloom shrugged to him “Maybe there isn’t an overwatch?”

“Impossible. No safe-house is that stupid. Not having an overwatch this close to the storm is suicide.” Tall Tale grumbled back clearly. I turned my head and blinked, realizing this was the first I’d seen of him since we entered the storm. He had no mask on. He had nothing on, and he didn’t show a drop of concern about it either.

Perhaps Ghouls just weren’t affected by Eerie. It made sense to me. I was quite familiar with death by cancer from how I grew up. You need to have living cells to get cancer, so it's not like it's any real threat to him.

Speakeasy looked at the group of us, quickly locating Allure and gesturing her closer with a hoof. As she joined him at his side, he tapped her rifle with his hoof. “Time to give you a little crash course on the Caster Scope. Lift the rifle up in your magic, aim the scope at that sign on the roof there, and then focus your magic on the scope,” he explained slowly to her. “Pick it up with your magic and try to gently pry the scope off the rifle. Be letting it do the rest of the work, da?” he added.

Allure nodded, easing the rifle off her back and lifting the scope up to the lens on her mask, aiming it at the sign atop the roof of the diner. The cast scope was extremely curious looking. It had the same hull of an ordinary scope, however it was dotted with strange, almost arcane and regal looking decorations of iron and bronze. Like something out of a fantasy novel.

I kept staring at it as Allure silently did as Speakeasy instructed; taking the scope in her magic and focusing on it. It glowed a curious warm yellow colour, and cast out a huge beam of light that cut through the eerie clouds like a hot knife through butter.

“W-woah! It’s...I can see! It's like a scope! I can see everything!” she stammered out through her mask. “How the hell does this work?”

Speakeasy chuckled through his mask “Magic.” he responded “Anyway, what do you see up there?”

Allure was silent, looking at the sign for a moment. “There's like...a really big sniper rifle up there. Looks like an Anti Machine Rifle bolted to the barrier...there's a chair...a spotter scope….”

Speakeasy shook his head “Is there somepony up there Allure?”

She was silent “...No, doesn’t look like it.”

Speakeasy looked to Tall Tale, who responded in kind with a concerned and somewhat confused look.

Speakeasy turned around. “Weapons out, we’re approaching this cautiously,” the stallion ordered in a gruff and stoic tone. “Anything that isn’t wearing a ranger uniform, you kill it on sight.” He began kicking his hind leg back to rasp a long pedal back. His complex battle saddle came to life, clockwork mechanisms clicked and rasped. He slinged his large machine gun out to his side. “And anything that is wearing a Ranger uniform, callsign it.”

“What’s the Callsign for the Dunes?” Gloom asked, kicking her own battle saddle open which sprung a small sub machine gun out.

Tall Tale did the same, a carbine springing out of his.“Four, three, two, one, and they respond five, six, seven, eight.”

Speakeasy nodded, looking at me. “Ashes, Gloom, and Tall Tale, you are with me. Allure, you will remain here with Corporal Express and Soft Gale.” Speakeasy moved toward the building, with Tall Tale bunched up beside him, and Gloom moving beside me as we advanced. I fetched my rifle from its sling and floated it to my face, ready to fire at a moment's notice.

We all moved cautiously toward the diner, and the once blurry silhouetted shape gained definition. I could see boarded up windows which were strung up and down with barbed wire. The real doors of this diner appeared to have been ripped out and replaced with dented and scratched steel ones.

Speakeasy looked back to me and Gloom “Gloom, take Private Ashes around the back to the basement entrance, see if that is unlocked, me and Tall Tale will continue in through this door, rendezvous at the feet of the surface access staircase.

Gloom nodded turning her masked face to me to gesture me to follow her as we moved around the rear of building, reaching a huge steel door on the ground. She navigated to a small box on the wall flicking it open with a hoof she pressed a large green button looking back at the door.

Nothing happened.

She pressed it a few more times before letting out a sigh through her mask before looking back at me. “Power is off.”

I nodded trying to think on my hooves for our next step. “Well we could try force it open. Does it have a lock?”

“Presumably some kind of mechanical one…” she responded.

We stood around in silence trying to think before Gloom looked to me and gave shrug “Let’s go back and see if Captain is having a better time then we are.”

As we began to head back we ran into Speakeasy and Tall Tale who were coming around to meet us. “Ah, no luck either?” Speakeasy inquired.

Gloom nodded in response. “That door weighs like a tonne. It's not budging unless we get the power back on.”

“No overwatch, power is off…” Tall Tale said scratching his chin with his booted hoof. “This place was attacked. Speakeasy…” he added.

Speakeasy stared off he thought silently to himself. “I am getting this feeling too,” the old stallion responded. “Still...we need to pass the Dunes, and we should at least find out what happened. We need a way to get in. I would be preferring if it was also possible to do this without damaging the building.”

“Is there a roof access or something?” I asked, offering a suggestion of my own.

Speakeasy perked up at my suggestion. “Yes. actually, the roof access wouldn’t be a mechanical door. I am thinking Soft Gale could maybe slip in the top and trigger the manual releases?”

Tall Tale shrugged. “As good a plan as any. Only I got no way for us to get in.”

We began to pace back to the cart. I ran over the plan in my head reaching a block.

How was Soft Gale supposed to get on the roof? Before I could ask the lithe mare reached a hoof back and worked the armor around her back until two large masses of feathers flourished from her back with a great gust of wind. With a bounce and another gust of wind she took flight, flapping a number of times before gliding and coming to a perfect landing on the roof.

I wasn’t that shocked. In fact I had a much harder time trying to think up a proper response to the situation. It was a surprise that all this time the mare had been hiding a pair of wings. but at the same time pegasi weren’t as rare in Penumbra and Alwhinny as I’d been told they were in the mainland.

Apparently one of the major Pegasus cities was still hovering around somewhere far to the east. So because of their proximity to the region the Enclave naturally had a very big interest in the region. Despite this they kept to themselves and kept their distance from everybody, especially the Rangers.

That explained her apparent fondness with Cloudgrain bread though.

Soft Gale’s athletic silhouette gracefully spun around on its hooves, scanning the roof before it moved along the base of the huge billboard and disappeared into the building.

After a few moments we moved to the building's front door, waiting for her to open it. We waited an agonizingly long time, and it was clear Speakeasy was very pensive about splitting up like this. His stance was very closed and he seemed quiet. I’d imagine if I could see his face this would all be easy to notice.

We kept waiting. Gloom even sat down on her flanks. “It should not be taking her this long…” Speakeasy grumbled through his mask.

“It’s a dark building, Speak, and she has to crawl the halls to get back here. You’re being too impatient.” Gloom responded trying to ease his anxiety as best she could.

Eventually were heard the sound of boots on dirty tile near the door.

“Soft Gale?” Speakeasy boomed out so she could hear.

Her deeper tomboyish voice responded immediately. “Yeah it’s me, sorry!” she yelled.

Speakeasy shook his head as Gloom stood up again. “It's fine. Get this door open, I want to get out of this storm.”

There was some silence before she spoke up again. “Uh yeah...about that...how would I get this door open?”

Speakeasy shot out a curse in his native language. “I thought you were an Enclave Sapper! How do you not know how to open a door, Gale?” he shot out.

“H-hey gimme a break here...just because I can open Enclave doors doesn’t mean I know shit about dirtpony doors!”

Speakeasy shook his head and turned around to face Express Route and stepped aside. “You’re the only other engineer here, Corporal.”

“There should be some kind of crank by the motor...if you pull that a few times it will uh...lift the lock mechanism off the gear, and we should be able to just roll this door open.”

We heard some kind of noise that sounded like a grunt of affirmation. Silence followed, and before long a number of loud clanks rung off the steel door as Soft Gale reached the crank and began to pull.

“Wow!” she yelled out again “That's helpful! Do all the Safehouse doors have this little manual override?”

Express Route nodded. “Yeah, of course they do. If the power goes out we need to be able to unlock these things, so why wouldn’t we have them?”

Speakeasy stood up, resting his hooves against the door as he wrapped one around the handle and began to grunt loudly, trying to force the door open. It whined and screeched as the metal forced itself along its rails painfully slow.

I stepped up nodding to him and flashing my horn. I twisted my face uptaking as much of the door as I could in my magic. The combined strength of me and Speakeasy was able to make it give way in a sudden rush of speed, nearly causing my large captain to fall to the ground.

In the doorway was Soft Gale who gave us a proud little wave as we came in. Her grey uniform had a nasty, deep cut along its side, and her battle saddle was absent.

“Yikes, what happened Gale?” Gloom asked, rushing to her side to look at the cut.

Soft Gale hissed a little in pain as Gloom touched the wound, recoiling slightly.

“Ah...it's nothing. The roof is just caved in a bit. I got stuck trying to climb down, cut myself on some rebar. Actually, my gear is also still stuck up there too. We need to try get that out at some point,” she said.

Speakeasy nodded. shining his light around the purple hazy interior. “Right, for now, Gloom, be patching Soft Gale up, take her to the infirmary. That should be where the old cooling room was. Express and Ashes, I want you to head to back and get the power back on so we can be getting the rear bay doors open and get Sticky Wicket’s cart inside. Allure, you’re with me and Tall Tale, we’re going to watch the cart while they do that.”

Allure, Tall Tale, and Speakeasy exited the main room back outside. “Somebody close the door and relock it for now. We don’t want any beasties getting in!” he said. Express Route trotting over and took the crank in his hoof, working it back a few times before sliding the door closed again before trying to pull it open again to test if it was locked.

He looked to me and shrugged as Gloom and Soft Gale headed back behind the ancient counter of the old diner heading back into the Kitchens.

“The generator is in the loading bay. let's go Private.” he said with all the firmness of a child being put in charge of his siblings before walking off ahead of me. I rolled my eyes and followed behind him.

We navigated the small corridors, reaching a haphazardly assembled staircase with a much heavier much more solid looking steel door. We did not enter it, however we took a sharp right and entered what I assumed to once have been the loading bay to this diner. The doors had since been rather solidly barricaded and bricked shut with huge cinder blocks. In the corner sat the newest looking thing in here; the generator. Beside it on a small desk sat a humming terminal, the only functioning piece of equipment.

Express Route trotted over to the generator taking a look at it before looking back to me, “Pull on the starter cord for me real quick,” he ordered in a very unfriendly and impatient tone.

I rolled my eyes again but kept quiet, doing as he asked. I took the ripcord in my magic and pulled it out. The generator sputtering once and twice before nothing else happened.

“Give it another pull.” he said, I obliged again.

Again it spluttered once or twice and nothing else happened.

“Cells sound alive...but it's the spark fuse that is dead....” he mumbled out.

I cocked and eyebrow behind my mask “Spark fuse?...I thought we used Spark battery generators?” I question.

He sighed condescendingly “Yes, we do, but Spark Batteries still need a spark. They’re not batteries per se--they’re a spell encased inside a hull that mimics electricity output through magic. You still need to introduce energy into the circuit for them to start outputting the spell.”

“That...how the hell does that work?”

Express Route shook his head and gave a dismissive wave, “It's the only way it can work. Spark batteries don’t store power, they produce it by slowly burning away the magical fuel cells inside them, like a candle. Just never mind, I’m not going to lecture some recruit about advanced magical electrical engineering, I have actual work to do.”

I pulled a face behind my mask as he knelt down and shrugged his pack off. He pulled it open revealing a number of tools. He pulled his mask off taking a deep gasp of the air before he stuck a spanner into his teeth and began to work away at the side of the generator.

“Is that safe?” I inquired.

“Not at all, but I don’t have a choice like you, hornhead,” he said after spitting the spanner onto the concrete, picking up another tool and beginning work once again. “Shouldn’t be too much of a problem, this far inside the building it should be relatively clean, even with the air filters off.”

I was a little taken back by his tone but I kept quiet. “Well did you want my help then, Corporal?”

He shook his head sharply.

I let out a sigh inside my mask moving my way over to the seat in front of the desk the terminal was perched upon and sat down, leaning back as I waited, watching him boredly.

As time went on that got boring too, unsurprisingly. I spun around on the rusty old chair and turned to face the terminal. With little else to do I tried to wake it up by touching a few of the keys, which made the featureless green screen blink back on and show a login screen.

Perhaps somewhat luckily for me, it looked as if there was no password needed. I hit a key and I was in the system. I felt a small pinch of guilt climb up my back as I realized I was rifling around in somebody’s business but I was able to shrug it off long enough to notice a file that read “Mandatory Daily Journal”

There was maybe a thousand of them across dozens upon dozens of pages, dating every day back for maybe three or so years. I hit the directional keys until it was over the most recent entry from two days ago.

---

Thursday - Mandatory Report - (Staff Sergeant Bedtime Story)

Iw warned the Staffseargent i said something was down there.

they idn’t blevie me.

now they’re dead.

i heard the screams ahain.

thes nothing in the tunnel to scream

two more days.

---

I felt a shiver crawl up my spine I navigated down to the Wednesday report and opened it.

---

Wednesday- Mandatory Report - (Staff Sergeant Bedtime Story)

The situation is getting out of hand. I Caught Private Smarty trying to sabotage the Generator. He’s losing his mind, he keeps saying he hears screaming down in the tunnel, a mare calling for help.

I’m not equipped to handle this mental health shit. I knew it was a bad idea to send Hail into that cave with the task force. I knew I should have kept him here.

Now the only pony who can try calm Smarty down is dead.

Whats worse is that Corporal Cheers came to his defense. They seem to think locking the hatch to the tunnel isn’t good enough, they’re trying to cut the power to get the deadbolts to turn on.

Cheers has been on my side during this whole debacle but he said they found another one. Another cave opening in the tunnel, a new one about half a mile closer to the door from where the first one was.

I’m going to have to see if that is legitimate before we lock the hatch tonight. If Cheers and Chips are telling the truth and another one of those caves has opened up in the Tunnel we have a real problem here.

First Recon will be here in three days, Captain Speakeasy will know what to do.

---

At some point a golf ball had worked its way into my throat and a distinct chill running down my body signalled I’d started sweating. I moved down to Tuesday and hesitated for a moment before opening it.

---

Tuesday- Mandatory Report - (Staff Sergeant Bedtime Story)

The Storm is still too thick for the radios to work so for now I’m going to make a point to write these happenings down with more detail so I can just send these when the storm passes.

This is my official reporting of the Missing Presumed Dead report of Corporal Aquamarine, Lance Corporal Hail and Private Console. They’re still not back. I know I’m going to get a Court Martial for inadequate response but I just couldn’t risk sending anypony else in there to find them.

That cave, something is not right with it and now it's gone I can at least sleep easier now. Myself, Cheers and Private Smarty rigged it up with what explosives we could and caved it in to close it. Chips is furious with me for ‘trapping’ the task force in there. But I think even she knows now that they’re dead.

I can’t shake the feeling something isn’t right though. I could have sworn I heard somepony scream when the cave started collapsing. I didn’t tell anypony because I think morale is too low as it is. But I think Private Smarty heard it too, but Hail did say ever since this cave opened up Smarty has been acting strange. he might not be in the right place mentally. After his little episode trying to shut the power off on Monday I doubt his stability.

I wish I had somebody to help him.

First Recon will be here on the weekend. I’ll have to pass this message along to them so they can try send it at their next stop. That is of course if this storm keeps up, doesn’t look like its calming down to me at least.

- - -

I felt shivers crawl up and down my back as I closed the last entry. I slowly stood up trying to think. What the fuck had happened here? Speakeasy needed to see this.

“Lets give this a shot shall we…”

I turned my head to look at Express Route who had the starter cord of the generator in his teeth, beginning to move his neck in a sharp motion to yank it.

“STOP!” I yelled sharply, shoving him away from the chord, only for it to violently and recoil back into the generator, sputtering once before falling silent.

Express Route, who had been forced against the wall, growled angrily at me and shoved me back, making me nearly nearly fall into the chair I’d just sat on.

“What the fuck is wrong with you Private!”

I grit my teeth and pushed the deep urge to swing back at the stallion and chose to speak. “They broke the generator for a reason. There's something in the tunnel! They cut the power to close the deadbolts.”

Express Route looked at me with an angry scrowl on his face. “How the fuck do you know this?”

I pointed a hoof at the terminal. “We need to find Captain Speakeasy. He needs to see this before we go further,” I said quickly, leaving the room and heading through the hallways. I met a stern faced Gloom leaving what was once the cool room for the diner, but had since become the clinic.

Her uniform was matted with blood, and in her teeth was a knife dripping with the dark crimson sludge.

She spun her body as she saw me rushing to me like a flash of lightening, pressing the edge of the blade right to my neck. The razor sharp edge threatening to slice my flesh as a hoof held my mouth shut.

“Four, three, two, one.” she whispered into my ear angrily.

I tried to yelp out in surprise but her hoof held my mouth shut, preventing me from speaking.

She growled pressing the knife harder, speaking through her grit teeth clasping the knife “Four, three, two, one.” she repeated “Tell me the callsign or I’ll cut your fucking throat.” she demanded quietly easing her hoof off my mouth so I could speak.

“G-gloom its me! F-five, six, seven eight!” I croaked out as best I could behind her hoof. “Five, Six, Seven, Eight!” I said a second time, fear creeping up my back.

She let go and took the knife away sheathing it again as she looked behind me. “Sorry, I couldn’t take any chances. Don’t yell, stay calm, no sudden noises,” she said, angrily staring at me. “If you yell I’ll break your jaw so you can’t yell.”

I rubbed my neck and gasped loudly for air as I was freed again “Gloom! Wh-what the fuck was that!” I demanded with a whispering voice “Where is Soft Gale?”

She looked back into the main room of the diner toward the locked door. “I don’t know, we need to find her pronto and get Speakeasy, we have a serious problem,” she replied.

“Yes we do!” I said “There’s a terminal in there--something is in the tunnel!! It killed the garrison. We have to find the captain,” I began before pausing to think on her words “W-wait, Soft Gale was in there with you wasn’t she?”

Gloom shook her head. “That wasn’t Soft Gale,.” she said stepping back from the door as I looked in. Against the wall slumped on the clinic bed was a corpse of Soft Gale drenched in a sick, almost brown coagulated blood that dribbled from a huge slit in her neck.

“Gloom what...what the fuck!” I blurted out loudly.

She shoved me with her hoof “Shut the fuck up!” she whispered angrily. “That wasn’t Soft Gale, that was a Bloodling pretending to be her.

“B-bloodling...what?”

She looked back at me and shot me a confused look. “Bloodlings, those mutants that shapeshift and mimic others. Don’t you read books?” she asked before shaking her head. “Just callsign absolutely everybody who wasn’t in this building before. If they don’t know the callsign, you kill them, don’t even stop to think just kill them.”

I stopped for a moment to consider what happened next. “We need to find the others. We need to get Speakeasy inside…”

Gloom responded with a nod. “You run outside and tell the captain, I’m going to see if I can find where Soft Gale is, tell him where I am,” she said stepping away as she pulled her mask back onto her face. “Oh, and don’t forget to callsign them. Trust nobody,” she reaffirmed to me. “Do you understand? Trust. Nobody.”

As she began to step away we heard a loud clank followed by stressed metal as some nearby machine whirled to life. The lights of the building clicked on one by one, illuminating the room as a pleasant cool breeze began to bellow from the air vents above us.

To our right we heard the sound of grinding metal, a length of steel screeching in protest. I dipped my head backwards down the hall to see what it was. Down the stairs a hefty metal door shook and shuddered in protest as a huge steel rod slid open with the assistance of two large rotating gears.

I felt a pit open in my stomach as I realized what was happening, and I screamed out some guttural profanity as I rushed quickly back to the back room slamming the door open sending it swinging as it smacked against the concrete wall.

Across the room Corporal Express dusted his uniform off as the generator hummed quietly.

“You idiot!” I yelled to him from the door. “Can’t you read! What are you doing?”

The engineer rolled his eyes, spinning around to face me. “Reactivating the generator like I was told to. I’d love to hear what makes you think you can give me that kind of attitude, Private.”

I grit my teeth seething in anger. “There’s something in that tunnel you idiot! And you just unlocked the door!” I roared back “Did you not read the terminal?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I did Private Ashes, and it's clear that the mental states of the garrison were deteriorating. You’re taking the word of an insane private over the orders given to you by Captain Speakeasy. You have some nerve mouthing off to me for doing my-”

He fell silent. I saw his ears prick up as he snapped his head, looking around.

“Did you both hear that?” Gloom yelled to us from the hallway.

Corperal Express yelled out in response. “Y-yes. What the fuck was that?”

I blinked at the corporal utterly confused by what was transpiring. “Wh-what noise?”

I listened as hard as I could, but the silence was all I got in response. All I could hear was the wheezing of my own mask. It began to unnerve me, and soon I felt my knees grow weak.

I spun around as quick as I could to face the panel for the elevator to the outside. “H-how do we get this open?” I asked with a great deal of panic in my voice.

Express Route stammered a response. His tone had changed quickly since the scream. The kind of response you’d expect from a pony who quickly realized the gravity of the situation, and possibly the grave realization that he might be to blame for anything that happened next. “Oh uh...the-the crank! Pull the crank and unlock it, then the uh...the green button and then the buttons with the arrows drawn on them…” he said quietly trying to fumble his mask back on.

I pulled the crank. Above me, there was a long slow rasp of steel as some unseen machine opened and unlocked the platform. I hit the button and pressed the arrow. An engine whirred to life somewhere below me in the shaft, and soon the dull daylight began to slip in along with plumes of the haunted looking purple dust. Eventually, the platform lowered and revealed the outside world.

Another lump had risen in my throat, and I swallowed it away as I watched the dust wisp around the room. I backpedaled slightly, turning around to look at Express Route. “You stay here, help Speakeasy and the others get in. I need to tell Gloom to put her mask back on.”

He gave me a pensive but understanding nod as I walked past him making. I made my way out the door of the loading bay and back into the hallway. I could just make out the motionless shape of Gloom who was staring down the stairs at the huge metal door.

“Hey, put your mask back on the dust is getting in through the elevator,” I said tapping her shoulder gently with my hoof.

She didn’t move.

I poked her, this time slightly harder to try shake her. “Gloom, did you hear me? The doors are open. Put your mask back on the dust is getting in.”

“It...something said my name?” she said quietly, her voice practically dripping with fear as she turned her head to look at me. “Can you hear it?”

I looked back at her, confused as I was horrified. What was she talking about? I couldn’t hear anything besides the elevator and the air vents.

“How does it know my real name…” she croaked out in a whisper. I could see tears welling in her eyes. She stopped looking at me and had begun to gaze right through me.

I swallowed hard as I felt something crawl up my spine. Terror. Seeing somebody as stone cold and as stoic as Gloom acting so stricken with terror frightened me beyond belief.

“G-gloom what the fuck are you talking about, I can’t hear anything. What are you talking about?”

From down the stairs there was a quiet groan of rusted metal as the huge door at the foot of the stairs stressed the hinges it rested upon. The sound drew my gaze and I looked down the stairs.

The door was opening!

It swung open incredibly slowly. Inch by inch it opened up and revealed an inky blackness behind it.

“W-what the fuck!” I blurted out, my horn flaring as I felt around for my rifle. I yanked it off my side, pulling and twisting, fighting with the strap that slung to my body as I floated it to my face and lined up a shot at the door.

It swung open more and more, but nothing appeared. There was nothing pushing the door open. Infact it was difficult to see due to the colour, but the door was actually being forced open by what appeared to be water. A dark almost jet black liquid shifted and gushed out of the door, forcing it open.

Even through my masks heavy filters I could smell the stench. It was rancid like some mix between stagnant water and rusted iron. I scrunched up my face. It reminded me of blood almost. With my sudden burst of fear gone I made my way down the wooden stairs toward the heavy steel door, the smell only growing harder to ignore.

I got within a metre and a half of the door and tried to cast my magic on it. It appeared that my magic uselessly brushed off against the steel. No matter how hard I focused I just couldn’t grasp the door in my magic.

“Do this the hard way I guess…” I mumbled, inching down the steps to the door.

I heard chatter from behind us in the loading bay, and heavy boots stomping as a figure walked in behind us. From just the shadow I knew who it was.

The water looked wrong. It had no shape to it at all. It looked almost like a hole in the floor. The water was totally absent of light, and the tiny ripples that appeared in its surface as it washed around were the only thing to give away that it was indeed water moving along the floor.

I reached forward with my hoof, but couldn’t manage to push it. I moved down another step, my hoof inching toward the silent black fluid as I tried to reach more. I heard a guttural noise of panic behind a mask roar out from behind me.

“D-do not! ASHES STOP!”

I stopped dead, my boot an inch from the surface of this eerie empty looking water.

Speakeasy’s voice boomed out from behind his mask “Get away from that stuff Private! Do not touch it!” he bellowed, “That is Blackwater! If you are touching that, you are lucky if your leg is all you lose!”

I didn’t need to be told twice. I backpedaled away from the shifting stream of blackness and back up the stairs. A profuse cold sweat had broken out across my body. I nearly fell on my flanks as I joined Speakeasy by his side once again.

“No more fucking around, everybody in here, now!” He yelled, shoving Gloom and pulling her to face him. “Snap out of it Gloom, you especially have some explaining to do.”

Gloom pulled away from his gaze, staring back at the door. “Speak...it knows my name! it keeps saying my name!” She said, her teeth seething. “I’M NOT BRUSH ANYMORE, STOP CALLING ME BRUSH!” She roared beligerently over his shoulder, gritting her teeth so tightly they looked like they’d shatter. Speakeasy held her around her body and pulled her away. The mare struggled, but Speakeasy was twice if not thrice her size. He didn’t have a single issue pulling her away and shoving her into the medical room, halting as he saw the slumped over body of Soft Gale against the medical bed.

I saw his face turn to stone as the gears turned in his head. For a moment he seemed alarmed, like Gloom had done something wrong, but he spoke up again. “...where is Soft Gale?” he said looking to me.

“We don’t know sir, she...disappeared. Gloom says that wasn’t her...she killed her….it.”

Speakeasy nodded. “And she was right to do so. Gloom’s spent years studying bodies and equine anatomy. I trust her before I’d trust myself in identifying a Bloodling. This situation has rapidly gotten bad…” my commanding officer mumbled to himself, tapping his forehead with his hoof.

“We need to find Soft Gale. If the doors were locked, she can’t have gotten into the tunnel, so it stands to reason that she has to be…” Speakeasy paused abruptly.

Everybody in the room perked up their ears, twitching as they all heard some distant sound. Their eyes focused on the door down the stairs.

Everybody except me, and a tiny filly who sat perched on her father’s back.

“Anybody else hear that?” Sticky Wicket asked, and the room filled with nods.

Allure, Corporal Express, Sticky Wicket, Tall Tale--everybody nodded except me and the tiny filly who looked at me just as curiously as I looked at her..

“Screaming...that was definitely a mare…” Tall Tale remarked.

“Screaming--what are you talking about,it sounded like...a dog or something.” Allure responded.

“My brother...somebody whispered my brothers name…” Sticky Wicket said, the terror almost visibly dripping from his voice. His young filly stared at the door, down the stairwell, and then to me as she climbed off her father's back and took a nervous step toward the stairs.

Speakeasy was frozen, and he turned his head around to face Tall Tale. The Ghoul’s face had pulled into something I couldn’t describe. Horror perhaps. As if the ghoul had seen a ghost.

“Speak…” Tall Tale said sternly to our captain. “Call it, Call it now. I told you this would happen back at base, and you ignored me.”

Speakeasy pensively stared back at the door, his mind straining, the gears turning in his head. “You cannot dare expect me to make that call, especially not now. Soft Gale is missing. I can’t leave another one behind again, Tall.”

Tall Tale grit his teeth, staring at our Captain. “There is no dare about this Speakeasy,” he growled, “Cersum’s Grey Cover, code three, this is fucking textbook Grade A anomalous occurrence. Why the hell do you want my opinion on these things if you don’t even listen to me, Speakeasy.”

The commanding officer kept thinking. I could feel a pit in my stomach open, and my heart ached in sympathy for the stallion. He was clearly torn. It was almost awe inspiring to see how well he was taking it. You’d hear about how Speakeasy was some born leader, but I’d never seen it in action before. A stallion under colossal mental anguish simply remaining as calm as he was.

“Gloom is losing it, we have a tunnel network flooded with The Blackwater, and goddess this base is completely abandoned. Soft Gale is missing, we have Bloodlings, and on top of that we just had an Anomalous occurrence. How the hell can you not call this off?” Tall Tale growled with his ancient and ruined voice. “Any other commander would get a court martial for not calling this off.”

Speakeasy put his hoof down. “What will you have me do, abandon Soft Gale? I cannot do that to another Veteran, not after what happened to Easy Rhythm. I’m not leaving another Ranger to die Tall Tale.”

“Okay so we go in guns blazing to save one Ranger and we all fucking die, just like Cersum and her Scouts did. Soft Gale knew the risks. Gale is a ranger--a veteran ranger--Speak. she’s read the Greycover and she knows what happens in situations like this. She fell behind. We cut the rope, or we all fall together.

Speakeasy sighed, his head hanging low. “Okay… okay. You’re right, we’re falling back. Get the hell to the elevator and retreat,” he said, looking to all of us. “Now, I’ll get Gloom, no stalling.”

I managed to strangle a word past the lump in my throat that had lodged itself during the argument. “W-wait so we’re just leaving Soft Gale to die?”

Tall Tale spun his head to scrowl at me. “What's the first rule in the Rookie Greenback, Private Ashes?”

I paused, remembering the handbook we had to study. I poured over the pages in my head. It didn’t take long to remember it. I always thought it was out of place. Most of the rules in the book were common sense, but the first rule was starkly different.

“The actions of your superior officers should never be questioned or refused especially in times of crisis, no matter how illogical or unreasonable they may seem. Rookies and low rank officers are not privy to mission sensitive details as of The Hermes Incident.

I felt like crying out a refusal, protesting in any way I could, but I just let my head nod and sink low. “Yes sir,” I mumbled through my mask as Speakeasy returned holding the shoulders of a nervous looking Gloom, who glared at the stairs.

As a group we began to wander out back into the rear room replacing our gear, somewhat defeated and at a loss. I’d never felt something like this before. Fear, self loathing, anger, and pure confusion. I kept it bottled up for later. What else was there to do.

Sticky Wicket stood by his still remarkably bored looking cow as he wheeled the cart back onto the elevator. Speakeasy leaned over the buttons to begin working the console.

“She’s here. I found her,” a familiar melodic young filly’s voice echoed in my head. “She’s walking down into the cave. I think she might be crazy…”

Before I could even stop to question what had happened I heard Sticky Wicket screech out some agonized scream of terror. “Where the hell is my filly!” he said, storming off the lift and rushing toward the door out of the loading bay before he was yanked back by the hoof of Speakeasy.

“It feels wrong mister Ashes, like the world feels sick, but I feel so calm it's so relaxing.” her voice sighed in my head. “I can see everything. I can see everybody…”

I felt a familiar prickle of panic rush up my spine as I listened to the screams and beggings of a father who’s daughter had wandered into hell. Speakeasy held his thin frame like it was paper as the father struggled and the lift began to rise up.

My heart pounded faster and faster. Nobody had a face. There was just mask after mask staring blankly at a grown stallion on his knees, crying in grief.

This wasn’t right. I had to do something.

“...why did you kill your father mister Ashes?”

Every muscle in my body seized up. I stared at the floor before I turned my head to Speakeasy who was staring at me watching my face screw up. Beside him Tall Tale rushed forward and restrained Sticky Wicket who thrashed angrily in his hooves.

I think he knew what I was thinking, he could see it on my face.

“Sir, what happens if I disobey orders?” I asked.

“You get a court martial provided you don’t die and are stupid enough to come back,” he replied.

“Then what?”

Sticky Wicket let out a roar and kicked Tall Tale in the gut, pushing the old ghoul back into the wall of the elevator before galloping off into the halls of the building.

Speakeasy’s face was as cold as stone as the stallion ran off. “You’re found guilty, because you are guilty, and there's a whole squad here that knows you’re guilty,” he said sternly, his hoof reaching to stop Tall Tale from chasing the stallion down. “And then they line you up against a wall and shoot you.”

“Good.” I replied, walking off the elevator and following the distressed father. “Prison is fucking boring anyway.”

I was calm for some reason. I expected to be filled with fear as I watched the stallion rush down the wooden stairs, his hooves splashing loudly in the water. I kept up, promptly following behind the stallion down the stairs, my boots splashing against the dark thick water pooling on the floor of the tunnel.

I wondered how toxic the blackwater really was. I couldn’t feel any pain, and Sticky didn’t seem to be in any sort of trouble.

“Sticky!” I yelled to the stallion entering the pitch black tunnel behind him, “Slow the fuck down!”

It was the darkest place I’d ever seen. My magic flicked my headlamp on, but even then it only punched through a foot or more into the inky black tunnel. The thick water splashed around my hooves as I galloped down the tunnel. No goal, no direction, and no purpose.

Was it curiosity? Maybe.

Truth be told I really don’t know why I followed these three down into the darkness, into certain death. I look back at it and I wonder to myself, had I never done it, had I just obeyed orders and let three ponies die, would any of what happened to me have occurred at all?

My light did not reveal much, but the beam from my headlamp did reveal enough of the rocky tunnel wall for me to notice the natural and dull looking stone turning to its black twisted diseased shape. The cave walls were perforated now, a sick black colour and dotted with thousands of holes like the stone was turning turning into a sponge.

I gazed at the repugnant stone wall not really paying much attention to what was ahead of me before I rather painfully walked right into a motionless body, its eyes staring down an opening to our left.

The mouth of some ungodly hellspawn sat open and ready to swallow me. Left and right of the opening were various tools--a pickaxe, a sledgehammer, chisel after chisel. I couldn’t even begin to think how many more tools lied beneath the water.

Was this the Cave the garrison had found?

It looked wrong. Everything about the cave felt and looked wrong.

It was too round, too perfect. It's stone walls were that same disgusting offputting perforated texture. It was so unnatural it couldn’t have formed, and it was so hideous that nothing could have dug it. I could hear water splashing echoing up toward me as something walked along the shallow water further and further away from me.

“NORTH!” the father screamed, chasing down after her, prompting me to also follow him into the tunnel.

“...does your sister know you killed your daddy Mister Ashes. Does anybody know, or is that a secret?”

I was not going to give him that satisfaction. He didn’t deserve it. Not after what he did to me.

Maybe that’s why I went to save them. Because somewhere deep inside I knew that if I did, that monster would get the satisfaction he did not deserve. I had to prove him wrong.

Hoof after hoof crashed into the thick black water. I galloped along the cave which grew wider and wider every step I took.

I wasn’t thinking anymore, my mind was no longer empty, some fleeting memory shoved its way into my mind. Forcing itself into the limelight.

I hated that stallion.

“You’re young North, you wouldn’t understand if I tried to tell you.” I spoke aloud to the filly who was wandering in my head like it was her playground.

“...try me,” she responded coyly, “I might surprise you.”

I sighed, catching up to the stallion and yanking on his clothes to stop him from running.

“He deserved to die North. I killed him because he was a piece of shit, and he had it coming.”

* * * * * * * *

Winter was cold in Alwhinny. Very cold.

The cells didn’t have heaters in them. It made sense I guess, there was barely enough power in this town to keep the schools lights on, why waste power on prisoners. Berryripe Bleaks was unfortunate to not have a Dust of their own to get their grid back to maximum.

I could see my breath condensing in front of my face as I sat alone in my cell, staring into the dimly lit hallway as I heard the steel door screeched open and the sheriff walk in. His hooves clattered along the concrete floor as he appeared in front of the bars of my cell staring at me.

“I expected you to be asleep.”

I smirked and looked at the sheriff, scratching my blotchy facial hair. “You sit in this fucking place for three years and then tell me you wouldn’t be awake too.”

His horn glittered as a ring of keys appeared from his pocket. The ring floated down, and with a rasp he slid it into the lock, twisting it with a satisfying click. Somewhere inside that steel door the locks and tumblers shifted and the door sprung open on its rails. He reached forward and pushed it open with a hoof.

The sheriff stepped aside and gave me a gesturing motion “Let's not waste your time, then, Young Ashes.”

I stood up and trotted out of the cell, giving it a long gaze as I exited and walked down the hall toward the steel door.

I heard a clank on the steel bars as I walked past. “Good luck out there, Ash,” the old husky voice of the mare who’d I’d shared cigarettes and stories with for the past three years yelled out. “The Skittish Mare, you better be there, you owe me a drink.”

“You going to remember my face in two years, Hedgerow?” I laughed. “I’ll be there, old mare, don’t worry, look after yourself.”

I exited into the hall of the station, walking with the Sheriff as we moved out into the lobby. The town guards and the rangers all stared at me as I walked past. Near the door was a mare who was apparently the new deputy. The old one had died from cancer in the middle of my sentence.

As the sheriff walked into the lockup room for the prisoners, the deputy took a key in her teeth and harshly grabbed my hooves, unlocking my shackles one by one and tossing them onto the bench as the sheriff came back with a box in his magic.

“Here are your effects young mister Ashes,” he said looking to me, “I’d say congratulations, but what you’ve been through ain’t worth celebrating.”

I gave a grunt and took the box in my magic nodding my head to him. “Look after yourself sheriff.”

“Don’t you worry about me, worry about yourself.” he grunted “I don’t want to see you in here ever again.”

I stepped outside into the streets of Berryripe Bleaks. I stretched my legs and let my bones pop satisfyingly as the freezing cold winter night welcomed me back into its embrace. I had a long walk ahead of me, a long lonely walk.

I guess it was too much for that asshole to at least walk me home.

I didn’t have a lot of caps left. Honestly part of me considered it a miracle that some guard hadn’t stolen them while I was locked up. I wrapped myself in clothes that were three years too small, and a scarf that was covered in dust and headed into town, buying myself a drink and a bowl of stew from the Skittish Mare to help warm myself up.

With a bowl of the spicy stew and a mug of the warm fruity cider this tavern was famous for, I set out into the weak snowy morning, following the ruined ancient asphalt and centuries abandoned carts that dotted the road South. My only company was the distant but constant flash of the lighthouse, its enormous beam sweeping across the sky above me as I wandered down the road.

Back to Darkwater Down, the only home I’d ever known.

I was going to kill that piece of shit.

* * * * * * * *

In the dark tunnel I saw a pair of eyes look back at me as Sticky Wicket dashed forward, splashing along noisily in the water to scoop the filly up and embrace her. “You stupid little filly!” he yelled “What were you thinking!”

North was silent, she stared at me without saying a word. Like she’d just grown up a little, like her childhood had been ruined. I didn’t blame her, perhaps the cruelest thing you can learn at her age is that the world isn’t as black and white as you think it is, that nothing was as easy to comprehend.

We were in some kind of opening in the tunnel, some large open area where this mysterious and hellish looking cave split apart into a dozen other caves and tunnels, sprawling out like the tendrils of a creature of the deep ocean or a tangled series of roots beneath some mighty tree.

Everything uneased me.The ribbing of the walls, it’s humidity the unsettling reverberation of the air that kept that perpetual droning in my ears, it all reminded me of the back of a throat, a long esophagus I was creeping down, all that it was missing was the uvula. Or perhaps, we had long since passed it. The anatomical passage was dormant. For now.

“Get her out of here,” I said to Sticky Wicket, “Run back and get the fuck out of this place, find Speakeasy,” I ordered the young father.

Sticky Wicket nodded. “Th-thank you...thank you!’ he spluttered out.

“I didn’t do anything,” I said, a flutter welling in my stomach. “Now go, and don’t look back.”

The father nodded frantically, placing the filly onto his back and galloping as hard as he could back down the tunnel we’d just came from.

“She’s not alone you know,” North’s voice echoed in my head. “Those things...are with her, watching her…waiting for...” she said, pausing for a moment.

I pursed my lips behind my mask and reached around my back with my magic, taking my rifle and presenting it at my front as I continued down the tunnel into the darkness.

“I can hear them all thinking, Mister Ashes, all of them. I can hear their thoughts like they were all talking at once. It’s so strange…” she began. “There is hundreds down here, crawling around in these caves...and all of them have the exact same thoughts…”

I blinked curiously as I walked along, my rifle gently swaying in my grasp as I trotted. “So provided this isn’t just me going insane and you can actually...read thoughts...what do bloodlings think about?”

“...you.” she responded, her voice quiet inside my head. “They’re thinking about you...they’re...waiting for you.”

* * * * * * * *

It was early morning when I showed up, pushing the bent and rusted gate that was on this property before the war had even started, trotting along the long straight gravel road that penetrated through the rows and rows of graves and tombstones. There was an old mare here with some colt looking at some grave.

He was on a rocking chair. He had a mug of something warm in his magic as he looked at the ruined singular piece of paper that lay on the wooden spool he used as some kind of table.

I stopped dead silent at the veranda of my home, my father not even bothering to look up as I stood there. “Can I help you?” he grumbled. “I don’t work on the Day of the Sisters, I’m afraid, so if it's an order you’ll have to wait till tomorrow.”

“Too good to look me in the face, huh?” I responded, tilting my head as I pulled my scarf lower. “Or maybe you just don’t recognise me.”

It looked like he turned to stone as he craned his head slowly up to look at me, adjusting his glasses slowly to take me in.

“Oh...they let you out early did they?”

I gave a small nod “Yeah, they did, thanks for not being there to walk me back. I wanted the privacy, and well you know me, I’m too proud to ask you not to show up,” I said with a sarcastic smirk. My mind awashed with a thousand emotions I could scarcely comprehend, and it seemed as if my way of coping with them was humor.

He squinted and shot me a look of pure daggers as he picked up on my sarcasm. “I’d watch your tone if I were you. You’ve got a mighty pair just to show your Goddess forsaken face around here after what you did.”

I shot out a laugh, swallowing a lump appearing in my throat. “Oh...yeah, some nerve I have right?” my teeth grit painfully in my mouth.

He grumbled, folding his paper up and and putting his mug down. “You never were one to think,” he said, standing up and taking his things and heading to his door. “Leave,” he ordered. “And never come back. Learn from your mistakes and don’t ever show your face around here again.”

“No...NO” I screamed snapping and breaking my cool. “Fuck you Ray, you don’t get to do this, you don’t get to do any of this!” I roared, rearing up onto my hind legs and slamming them into the gravel. The old stallion halted in front of his door as he looked back at me. “I did my thinking…” my voice strangled out, my jaw trembling. “THREE YEARS, I was in there for THREE YEARS, Ray, and if I didn’t do the social service and the good behavior tests I would have been in that fucking place for FIVE!”

His own teeth grit as he snarled back at me in that angry cornered dog look only he could give. “And after what you did, you should have stayed in there. You should have fucking stayed and rot you despicable little shit.”

“Gee, I’ve been here five minutes and you’re already upset with me. What now, you going to go kill Dust and blame me for that too you fucking coward?” I snarled right back. “You don’t get the high ground this time, Sun Ray. Not this time. I was in a cell half as big as our bathroom for three years. You took EVERYTHING from me, and I sat in a cold concrete box for THREE years and you didn’t lose ANYTHING!”

He stomped his hoof on his wooden deck and his magic flared, yanking a long double barreled shotgun out of of the frame it sat in and aimed it at me. “Get the fuck off my property before I kill you and drag your body out myself!”

I furrowed my brow and spat at him. “Look at me, look me in the eyes.” I growled “I will hurt you, do you understand, I will not rest until I have taken everything from you and destroyed it. I swear on my mother's grave, I will make you pay for what you did to her.”

“That was your fault and you know it, Ashes, you ungrateful sack of shit!” he growled back. “It’s your fault she lost it, it’s...it’s your fault. If you’d just done what you were told she’d have never gotten sick!” he pointed his gun to the side and with a loud boom the shotgun barked out a pillar of fire and smoke. “NOW GET OUT.”

I spun around and walked back down that same path I’d walked in on.

He would pay, I was going to make him pay.

He wasn’t going to get away with it this time.

Not again.

* * * * * * * *

The tunnel stretched out into a wide cavern again. Sitting in the middle of the room on her haunches was a rather rough looking Soft Gale with her mask around her neck as she breathed very slowly and deliberately, staring off into nothingness.

“...is that you newbie?” she said, looking at me with bleary eyes.

I nodded, shining my light around as I aimed my rifle, my hooves splashing noisily as I entered the room.

“You doin okay Gale?” I asked moving closer to her offering her a hoof, retracting it for a moment “Sorry but...four three two one.”

She shook her head “Its me...five, six, seven, eight..” she responded weakly, her sentence pausing as she let out a wet hacking cough. “and no not even slightly. I thought you guys had abandoned me. The greycover says you have to if stuff like this happens…”

She took my hoof and weakly tried to stand up before she fell face first into the blackwater. I gave a wince as she did, looking either side of me and reaching down. I took her in my magic and grunted as I lifted her body up as best I could.

She coughed and sighed. “It’s no use anyway. I appreciate the help Ash, but...we both have blackwater poisoning now, we’re already dead.”

I sighed as I let the strain go, letting the mare rest across my back so I could carry her out.

“Gale how the fuck did you get down here? The security door was locked.” I asked taking my rifle in my magic and walking slowly and cumbersome back down the tunnel.

She grumbled and I felt her shift on my back. “I...can’t remember much but...I think there was some second tunnel and an airvent. I only know about changelings...don’t know anything about these mutants freaks. I guess they have a knack for digging holes…”

I heard a hiss and I felt a prickle along my neck. I angled my light as best I could, and I nearly jumped out of my own skin when I saw the face of some albino white monster staring back at me. It was a dirty white colour, its fur was not fur--it seemed to be some kind of exoskeleton, which shone gently as I pointed my light at the thing. Its eyes were freakish blood red compound eyes like that of some fly, and its legs formed into large holes much like the walls of the cave around us.

I pointed my rifle at it with a grunt, shivering in fear as it grinned menacingly, flashing its filthy brown fangs at me and flicking a serpentine tongue.

“No need for violence,” it said, its alien sounding voice hissed to me. “You will not be harmed, the great old one calls out for you in his sleep. I must bring you to him.”

“What the fuck...no!” I said jabbing, forward with my rifle. “Get the fuck away from me!”

It jumped back a bit and hissed, coiling itself. It moved to jump, but I let out a guttural yell and pulled the trigger, my rifle spewing out fire and punching a bullet right through his outer shell sending a spray of the brown ichor out across the walls before falling to the ground.

“I’m afraid you have no choice in the matter,” an identical sounding voice hissed from behind me. I jerked my head around and nearly jumped again. There was a dozen of them in the room we were just in. “The great old one wishes it, and it is our purpose to serve him. It is YOUR purpose to serve the great old one, you simply do not know it yet.”

I tried to strangle out something else to say but I couldn’t. Instead I just broke into a gallop, holding Gale as best I could with my magic as I galloped as hard as I could, my hooves splashing against the blackwater and my hooves easing around on the joint as I tried to balance on the uneven floor.

I grit my teeth as I sucked air desperately rushing through the dark tunnel back the way I came.

I could hear the tide of hooves, a stampede of angry monsters behind me chasing me desperately along the tunnel.

We finally exited into the second cavern, and I felt a weight slam into my side with a yell from both me and Soft Gale. I nearly did a full flip as I fell into the rocky floor splashing water all over me.

I desperately spun around to my hooves and faced the threat. A single bloodling fought it’s way to its hooves and turned to face me with a hiss. “The world belongs to the great old one!” it screeched “Do not flee from his grace!” it said, pouncing on me.

I pulled the trigger panicking as I realized I hadn’t actioned the bolt, and I was pushed to the cave wall. I roared out, spinning the rifle in my magic as I jabbed the butt of the rifle forward and smashed it into the face of the creature. It let out a sickening wet crunch as its insectoid exoskeleton caved in with the hit and it fell to the flooded floor twitching and shaking.

Another pounced on me, knocking my rifle from my magic as it crawled forward trying to grapple me to the ground. I kicked my hooves to try pry the monster off me but it held on with just slightly more desperation than I was trying to kick it off. In a moment of clarity I flared my horn and yanked my knife from my sheath, roaring as I swung it down and slammed the blade into the skull of the monster, yanking it out and stabbing it again before its grip loosened and I kicked the monster off me, stumbling to my hooves.

I rushed to Soft Gale and moved to pick her up again with a panic as I looked to the roof of the cavern. White shapes crawled out of the tunnels and branches of the roof, hissing as they crawled out like a swarm of large ants, others buzzing out on nightmarish wings.

I strained my horn harder, yelling in agony as a nail of magic drove itself into my skull as I hefted her onto my back again. We began to rush forward again down the cave.

Panic was welling inside me, it was too fucking dark! I couldn’t see any more than a few feet ahead of me. I had no idea if I was three feet from the tunnel network or three hundred.

I’d lost my rifle and was left with only my knife bobbing gently ahead of me in my magic as I rushed along the cave. It dripped the sickening coagulated blood from its blade down the hilt before it dribbled off onto the floor.

I felt a huge wave of relief crash down onto me as I tumbled out of the mouth of the sickly cave and back into the concrete reinforced tunnel network.

I took a moment to give a sigh of relief, a mistake I regret to this day.

Another huge weight smashed into me and sent me tumbling into the wall with a great deal of force, causing me to fall again and lose Soft Gale who yelped in agony as she fell, as well as the knife falling from my magic into the water.

The bloodling crawled onto me and screeched out a sinister, baleful note, rearing up before bringing its hooves down onto my face. There was a sickening snap and the sound of glass being shattered before I screamed out in pure agony. His hoof mashed into my left eye, shattering the glass. I thrashed around in pain screaming gritting my teeth as my magic desperately padded around for something to use.

I felt something long and with a great deal of weight on one end. With little else to use I gritted my teeth, taking the object and slamming it into the changeling. Much to my surprise he flew off me like he’d just been bucked away by an earthpony’s fearsome buck.

I rolled around in pain. My body fueled by pure adrenaline as once again I pushed myself to my hooves. I looked at what was in my magic--some long sledgehammer that was lined up against the wall hung in front of me.

My left eye was nothing but pure undescribable agony. Throbbing and hot. I searched around for Soft Gale who was pushing herself to her haunches as the bloodling spun around with a great deal of agility to stand once more and face me.

I let out a roar and swung the hammer in my magic. It was remarkably easy to work with, giving it a little kick and letting physics do the rest of the work. The huge metal head of the hammer slammed into the side of the bloodling with a crunch so loud it echoed down the tunnel, sending the bloodling flying and crashing into the wall to his left, twitching slightly. My hammer kept up its motion, and with a sickening crunch slammed into the creature again squishing it against the wall and crushing its midsection with a spray of brown blood.

I yelled, hefting the hammer in my magic as I stumbled in pain over to Soft Gale for the third time. I hefted her onto my back as I began my weak desperate gallop down the halls toward the metal door and the dull white light flittering through the half open gap.

I felt another wave of relief rush through me as I stumbled through the opening, and with a yell, kicked my hind legs up to slam the metal door shut against its frame, the steel frame shaking as it met the speeding door.

I could hear screeches and chittering as the bugs crashed into the metal door, desperately trying to pry it open. I felt my heart leap into my chest as I saw the half a dozen or so white faces shifting around in the dark through the peephole.

Another moment of clarity was afforded to me as I once again stumbled into a weak gallop up the wooden stairs, spinning around as me and the mare on my back crashed into the loading bay. I slipped Gale off my back as gently as I could, rushed towards the gently humming generator in the corner, swinging the hammer around above my head again, letting it crash down into the generator. The pristine looking power generator crumpled like some soda can as the hammer crashed into it. It let out a loud bang and a cloud of pink smoke and sparks showered into the air as the lights in the building flickered off one by one and the air stopped.

From here in the hallway I heard the sound of the stressed metal as the huge steel deadbolt automatically slid back into place, and with a heavy shunt secured the door tight once more.

I nearly fell to the floor in relief. I let the hammer swing and rest on the concrete floor, and let my body rest on the hammers weight as I caught my breath.

Soft Gale was sitting on her haunches staring at me. “Y..you...holy shit…”

I looked back to her, my right eye blurred and my left eye a mess of indistinguishable hues of red and white blurs.

“Don’t worry...we n-need to...g-get the fuck out of here...if they have a second tunnel they will be following us soon...and we need to catch up to Speakeasy…”

I stumbled over to her and helped her up and onto my back again. I clutched the hammer and let it drag along the ground beside me, letting out a long screech as metal scraped along concrete.

I headed to the infirmary, my whole body shaking as we stepped inside, Gale looked at the body of herself in the corner of the infirmary with a great deal of confusion.

“D-don’t ask…” I mumbled as I moved toward the medicine cabinet. My first instinct was to reach for the healing potions and down one, but I stopped short remembering Gloom say that drinking a healing potion would lead to your skin healing over the wound and make the problem three times as bad. I was blind as sin in my left eye, and the realization I could have reinforced glass shards all through my eye made me nearly throw up. I let out an exploitative dreading for even a moment that I’d have to put up with this agony, but in the corner of my eye flashed at least three small syringes.

I reached for the syringes and looked at the small glass hulls of them. Morphine. The writing on the glass was small, but with enough straining and winking I could focus on it enough to make it out.

I took the syringe and snapped the plastic end off, lifting a hoof up and bracing it against the wall as I eased the syringe in and let the auto injector do the rest of the work. I looked around the cabinets some more, taking a healing potion anyway. “What about you Soft Gale, anything broken?”

She shook her head “I-I don’t think so…”

I passed the healing potion up to her with my magic. “G-get me a Harmony potion...maybe it's not too late to stop the Eerie poisoning…” she stammered out.

I looked around some more and let out a pleasant shiver as a cool chill climbed through my veins where I’d injected the morphine up my leg and circulated around my body.

The agony began to bleed away and it helped clear my head enough to focus a little easier. I searched up and down the cabinet and found a small milky looking magenta fluid in its own small auto injecting syringe. There was only one.

I passed it to her and spun around on on my hooves. “Are you sure? You might be poisoned too, Ash…”

“I’ll be fine,” I responded, walking out toward the door. I took a new mask off the shelf in the barracks room and two spare filters, presenting one to Soft Gale as I slipped the new mask on. I did my best to keep it from touching my damaged eye as I carried myself and the pegasus mare to the front door of this diner, cranking the lock open and forcing it aside.

I looked either way. I could focus again. My mind was clear and the agony was gone. Despite this, I was still blind in one eye and the storms made it impossible to see regardless. I gave a weak smile as I saw the tiny almost unseeable dots of white light swinging to and fro in the distance. With a weak walk I moved toward the lights, with the goal to catch up to them.

If I could see the face on that smug piece of shit now.

* * * * * * * *

There was the sound of the occasional crack of gunfire and screams throughout Darkwater Down. The warning sirens wailed up and down the large town as I galloped along the mainstreet. I’d been enjoying a drink and hiding from the cold that night before the sirens started.

You could hear the roars and screeches of some nightmarish hellbeast. It wasn’t flying--the rangers would have picked it off long before it got here. It had to be some kind of land based creature, and it had to have snuck in somehow. That only meant one thing; the wall had a hole in it.

“MAKE WAY!” a booming voice roared out, amplified artificially and laced with the sound of electronic filtering. I jumped to the side and watched in awe as two ponies clad in huge sets of power armor thundered past with about half a dozen or so rangers behind them.

Soldiers. The main battle and rapid response units of the Rangers, clad in heavy kevlar and the highest spec equipment, they were all veterans, each selected for their vast wealth of knowledge and aptitude.

Their armor made them tower above the ponies behind them. They were huge in those suits, bigger than even the largest griffins ever seen. Their steel hooves slammed into the asphalt with a great deal of weight as they galloped past, their massive metal frames hauling guns so big you usually only saw them mounted on the roofs of tanks.

Their armors were painted vastly differently. One was painted dark grey and white trimmed, as was the uniform for rangers in power armor. It also had stamped and painted the lighthouse sigil onto the flanks and shoulders .

The other was in a scratched and aged black paint with some sigil of gears and apples on it. A long red and gold braid was tied on one of his huge pauldrons across his back in some strange ornate decoration.

I stared long enough to realize they were headed North along the main street searching for the monster. It had since grown silent and was not giving its position away. Perhaps it hadn’t panicked in a while, but the town was still in chaos, and it seemed as if the rangers had just as much idea where it had gone than I did.

I heard a bark of gunfire and I turned my head to face it. The sound came from the west, and as I galloped to the middle of the road I was just in time to catch another blast. This time I could see the flicker of orange as it shot into the air.

It was coming from the graveyard.

I broke into a fast gallop toward my home down the old gravel road. As I grew closer I noticed a clear wide path had been bowled through the gravestones, and the wooden roof of our ramshackle home had been caved in. A stallion galloped around in the dark, a shotgun in his magic as he flicked it back up toward the house. I jumped the gate and leapt back into the yard up the gravel toward him as the wooden wall of our house exploded open in a shower of splinters. The huge beast rolled onto the patio of our house. It was something massive, perhaps as tall as a large stallion and a half. It stood on four squat stubby hooved legs and it had a short face. Its head was a mess of twisted and demonic looking horns and growths, and its body was covered head to hoof in strange black mossy looking fur. It looked almost like a bison from the old deserts of West Equestria.

My father aimed the shotgun and pulled the trigger, a blast of flame exploding out and throwing a hail of buckshot outward, smacking into the hellish bovine creature, releasing a spray of red blood.

With a roar it charged at him slamming into the old stallion and throwing him back against the ground. His shotgun flew into the air and clattered into the gravel near me as my father grunted holding his pain inside as the monster scuffed its hooves along the grass preparing to charge again.

I rushed over to the shotgun yanking it up in my magic. I flicked it open to check if it still was loaded, and sure enough while one had been used the other shell was ready to fire. I flicked it back and aimed the long rusted shotgun at the monster’s head who stood still flaring its massive nose and scuffing its hooves preparing to charge, paying me no heed.

My magic eased down on the trigger as I aimed it at the bison. Before I could pull it back enough to fire, I paused, remaining motionless as I slowly turned my head to face my father. He sat silently on the ground, his head shifting between me and the monster right before him.

I looked into his eyes as he stared back, his eyes full for fear for the first time in a long while. Without a word, our eyes were firmly glued to each other. I relaxed my magic and let the shogun fall gently and point to the ground.

I expected him to say something, but he didn’t. He just hung his head low and began to mumble what I assumed was a prayer as the creature roared and charged forward. Within a moment the stallion that was once my father was trampled and crushed under the rearing hooves of some massive angry spawn of hell.

The monster let out a beastial snort as it grew bored of stomping on the dead body. It shuffled slowly to face me, and did much the same as it already did. It lowered its head and presented its mass of horns and bones to me and scuffed its hoof along the gravel.

With another roar it charged, galloping toward me. In a moment of panic I threw the firearm up and shot the shell hastily, the buckshot digging into the beast but not stopping it. It thundered toward me. I froze in fear as I heard a yell, and I was shoved so hard I must have flew a foot or two to the side as the stallion clad in power armor stood where I was and braced his hooves into the ground. The bison slammed into the huge steel pony, but rather than throwing the ranger aside like it had my father, the two pushed against each other. The stallion roared as the other ranger stomped up on his left flank, his red braids flicking in the wind as it spun around and lobbed a hefty kick into the beast, sending it back a few feet into the patio with a crash and a shower of spinters.

The two stallions kicked their hind legs and their battle saddles sprung open. On the left the braided stallion let fly a hail of loud powerful sounding shots as he showered the bison in a hail of heavy machinegun fire. The other trotted forward slowly, a huge cloud of fire spewing from his battle saddle and spraying the monster in a jet of flaming napalm. The monster screamed and roared in agony stumbling back and crashing through the ruined wall, the two rangers kept up their onslaught, the heavy machinegun punching into it as the other sprayed it with streams of flames.

It was a spectacle, perhaps I should have felt some more remorse as I was ushered away by a group of rangers. The house I grew up in went up in a tower of smoke and flames and the two rangers clad in their armor walked into the flaming building like it was nothing to inspect the monster’s burning corpse.

My eyes were fixed on the bloodied and crushed corpse of my father as he lied on the dirt.

At least he didn’t die anywhere near her grave.

* * * * * * * *

“Well the good news is you’ll be fine and you won't lose the eye,” the stallion clad in a dirty white coat said to me as I looked back at him. “Bad news is by this point the infection is so widespread and the damage so great that once it's healed you’re not going to be seeing much out of it. Plus we need to operate again to get the last of the glass out.”

I nodded, my body weak and my throat dry as I lied on my back in the infirmary bed. My pain was dulled with painkillers, but I could still feel the tingle in my eye. They were keeping my doses moderate to try keep me from becoming too addicted to it. “So when am I going in for surgery?” I croaked weakly.

“Within the next hour, if all goes well. You are getting sicker from the infection and I can’t give you antibiotics yet, not until we’re sure we’ve got all the debris out of you. We need to get it done as quickly as we can. We also need you as healthy as you can be for the detox sessions. While you aren’t exhibiting signs of blackwater or eerie poisoning, we cannot be too sure with stuff like that. So we’re going to really try scrub that stuff out of your body.”

I nodded again. That's all I really felt like doing. My body was powerless, sapped of strength and my brain was sluggish. I could feel my head heavy and hot. The infection was really taking its toll, and I just wanted to feel better again. “Do whatever you have to…” I said to him. “A-also you wouldn’t happen to know where I can get a pen and paper from? I want to write a letter to send off before I go under the knife, I guess…”

He gave me a nod and a cheerful smile. “Sure, I’ll go grab some for you,” the doctor said, stepping out of the room and heading off.

I sighed, turning my head to the window and stared outside. I could see the lights of Berryripe Bleaks in the distance, and the constant beam of the lighthouse above us as it swept across the sky.

I heard hooves clattering on the tile floor as the doctor returned with a piece of paper and an old pen in his magic, he rested it on my lap, reaching across and passing me some old hardcover book to write on.

“Thanks,” I croaked in response to him, letting out a wet choking cough as he left the room.

I placed my pen to the paper and let out a sigh as I began to write.

_______

Dear Sister.

I’m going in for surgery again today, the doctor says I will be fine they’re just going to get what they couldn’t get out before this time. Don’t worry about me, I’ll live, I’m too stubborn to die anyway.

I haven’t heard anything about what they plan to do to me but from what I understand, Gloom, Soft Gale Allure and even Talc are all trying for an appeal to drop the case but Speakeasy and the high council take what I did very seriously, so I’ll write when I know more.

I’ll write again as soon as I’m awake and moving again.

Look after yourself Sis.

~Ashes.

_____

Book 2 - Chapter - 01

Is it peculiar if I don't feel remorse for my actions?

I’d always felt disconnected from my father, like he and I were just too different for me to be sired from his loins. But was that menial emotional gap why I felt it so easy to snuff out my father’s life?

Much of my childhood is a blur these days. Perhaps it's just how chaotic the whole experience was that it just lends itself to the whole experience being a blur of half materialized memories and thoughts I'd myself buried in regret.

I did see her a lot though. The smiling and calm face of my mother. Flashes of wilted memories I'd once had of the mare who'd brought me into this world.

I'd gotten over that forlorn cry for my mother a long time ago. It's blocked out, or perhaps rage and anger had blocked that maternal warmth she gave me as a colt. But recently she was all that made sense, the only memories that were clear.

She’d been gone for years, but she dominated my thoughts. She held my attention unlike anything else. I wonder if she forgave me? I wonder whose side she took that night as our home burned and father met with the grisly fate, spalled apart beneath the hooves of a great beast.

It'd been awhile since Darkwater Down was attacked, but I still felt that lingering indecisiveness of whether or not I had actually murdered my father. I wondered a lot that if I'd been stood up before some court of justice over the incident if I'd be found guilty of murder or not.

If I’d just pulled the trigger and let the shower of buckshot smack into the hide of the monster, would it have done anything? The old buck had squeezed off one shot before me, right into it’s damn face, and all it did was scrunch it’s muzzle up at him, like he’d tickled it’s nose with a feather.

Perhaps I could've pulled the monsters attention away from my father long enough for the soldiers to arrive and help, but would I survive if I did that instead?

Did I really deserve to live more than my father?

My mother and my father were all that'd been clear for a while. I had no recollection of time or real life anymore. I'd been asleep for so long that it seemed as if I didn't dream anymore. Instead wandering aimlessly, waiting to wake up again. Occasionally I'd see a memory flash, a nightmare begin and end, or a dream flutter hopelessly as it tried to take hold. But as I'd come to realise my mind was much too scattered to focus for long.

There was, however, one constant beyond the old memories.

She looked tired today...this month...this year, however long it'd been since her last visit. Her normally huge curious eyes were sunken, wilted and tired. Her melodic voice seemed much flatter. Something about her was off this time.

She came in from the purple haze beyond the great, impermeable miasma in my mind. Walking her tiny filly body into the enormity that was this centuries old portal through the mighty wall.

We both stood silently facing out into the undulating purple fog beyond the wall out into that hellish land called Penumbra. Waiting for "it."

The noise which made me fall to my knees in agony was nowhere to be found. We were alone.

"He hasn't come back?" North's voice queried.

I shook my head. "Not since the first time I saw it." I responded equally as timidly as North had spoken just now. It felt wrong to call that thing I saw a "he" like North did.

It took a while for me to accept what was going on. Could you blame me? It was madness, a voice in my dreams? A filly who could read minds?

But more and more I began to submit to the idea that it was true. North had warned me something bad was going to happen, she could feel something was off and that very same day my squad was attacked.

It took a while for me to see things her way but I trusted this filly. That thing I'd seen in the fog clouds was the key to what happened that day. And part of me hoped it'd show it's face again.

But it seemed that hope was short lived, the pony in the shadows had never come back again.

"He's following me again." North admitted quietly to me in a quiet murmur, shuffling in close till her side pressed against me. "Stalking my head, flicking through my memories."

I turned to look at the filly who was still nervously staring out into clouds beyond the gate she'd just entered from, a lot more afraid than normal. "What?" I responded curtly if perhaps a little impolitely.

"Every time I close my eyes Mister Ashes...he's there, taunting me, threatening me..." She sighed. "Asking about you."

I could feel my eyes widen in surprise as she admitted this to me. "What do you mean...asking about me? North how long has this been going on for?"

She shrugged "a week maybe...he attacks me every night...I can't sleep, he never leaves me alone." She winced a little as if pained by something. "I can hear his voice in the back of my head. "He's obsessed with finding you, it's all he talks about, he never shuts up about you..."

I shook my head and put a hoof on her shoulder in a move that shocked both her and me for the same reason. Such acts of warmth were unusual if not totally alien to me.

"What's it saying about me?" I said in a much sterner tone of voice.

North turned her back on the fog and the gate entrance with a sigh "He's interested in you...I don't remember exactly what he said but I think there's something "off" about you that has him fascinated or obsessed with you, like you have something nobody else does." She began trotting off into the other side of the wall.

"What could be so interesting about me that it's doing this for? I don't feel special...has it said what it is that's so special?"

North shook her head as she walked away rather dismissively. It was a somewhat rude gesture, but if she really had gone a week without proper sleep I'd forgive her for being less warm with me. "If I knew, Mister Ashes, I'd tell you."

She stopped as she stepped out onto the crumbling asphalt road of the Equestria side of the wall. She took a deep breath and I saw her small body tremble as if she suddenly relaxed a lot more.

"I don't think that he is choosing to stay away from you, Mister Ashes. I think that maybe he just can't come back..." North said, a small smile appearing on her lips as she turned slowly to face me. "Your walls...I've wandered around in my dreams a lot and you're the only pony with walls like this...I think maybe he can't get in here."

I craned my head to look at the walls behind us as I exited the gate through the wall. "You think so? You think maybe that's why he's so interested in me, because he can't fuck with my head?" I said with a prickle of shame realising I'd just swore in front of the filly.

"Maybe. Maybe he just finds you really attractive and he wants to ask you out," The young mare quipped in a welcome ease of the tension, I laughed weakly with her for a moment.

North looked up at me and smiled, her tired eyes seeming a lot warmer now before the colour disappeared. "I...need your help mister Ashes..."

I looked at her worried as we began to walk aimlessly into the cloudy emptiness. "S-something's happened to me...things aren't too good right now and...I need help."

"What with? You're being really vague North. I can't help you if I don't know what it is I need to help you with."

“I’m in the Melancholy Bay hospital...they think I’m…”

I felt gravel beneath my hooves as a familiar voice called out to me. "Ashes, honey! Come back inside, it's way too cold for you to be running around out there. Come back inside before you catch a cold!"

I smiled as I looked into the warm familiar face of my mother. Her coat was nothing like mine or Dust's or my father. Her’s was a vibrant and colourful blue, and her mane was a wispy white which was long if a little dirty and unkempt looking, the kind of mare who never brushed her mane.

"Is that your mother?" North asked quietly as we both stared at her. North seemed a little confused as she stared at the mare.

I gave a short little nod of affirmation to her. "I think all this time asleep is starting to dig up old memories. I don't like to think about my mother. She reminds me of... you know...what happened. But I guess I gotta put up with that. I like thinking about her, the nostalgia she makes me feel is really comforting, reminds me of a much less depressing time."

North eased up a little as I tried to explain who this mare was, but the filly seemed tense still, shy in the kind of way that a young filly would be around a total stranger. "No offence mister Ashes but...something feels off with her..."

I felt a pit in my stomach and I sighed. "Yeah she's ..it's a long story, but uh..." I took a moment to try think the best way to put it. "Well let's just say I was supposed to have a younger brother but...something happened."

North looked to me for a moment and nodded, her eyes opening a little in understanding. "Oh...yeah okay..."

"Yeah she uh...got a little weird after she lost the foal. My guess is depression..." I began, "if you've guessed then yeah...that's what caused things to go downhill with my dad. He blamed me for what happened to her."

North kept nodding slowly in understanding before I shook my head. "Whatever, it's not important. No need to kill the mood like that. I promise I'll tell you the whole story some day when I wake up and we meet again, but you know it's a bit of a touchy subject for me."

I paused looking at the rows of graves. Each one engraved in a garbled mess of gibberish words I couldn't make out. "How long have I been asleep North?"

"I think almost a month, it's definitely been more than two weeks." She responded looking at me. "I think it's about time you woke up Mister Ashes."

I nodded to the filly. "Yeah I think you're right." I said, taking one last good look at my mother's smiling face as she and my home bled away into my mind.

Time to wake up.

* * * * * * * *

Why is the pain the first thing to come back?

The world bled back to me, light struck my eyelids, coaxing me awake. The rhythmic throb, dull and heavy like a hammer on a drum coursed through my head, temple to temple, pounding relentlessly. I gasped involuntarily, my throat producing a gravelly and coarse sound. The arid air rolled down my windpipe the dryness of my throat stung horrifically, as my lungs filled with air. The feeling was so foul I was sent into a coughing fit. Any attempt to clutch my throat or recoil in pain was met with painful protest from my aching muscles and joints.

With some effort I managed to adjust to the harsh lighting of the room, blinking the bleariness out of my vision, one of the curtains to the room was ajar, letting burnt orange light seep through the gap, could’ve been a rainy dawn, or a warm dusk. There was no way of telling in my state.

A sharp pain in my left eye welled up as I tried to strain my eyesight to focus. In the back of my mind I saw a flash of a white shelled monster bucking his hooves down into my face. A phantom of agony climbed up my spine as the horrible pain of what happened to my eye returned.

The faint image was abruptly bisected as his hoof crumpled my eyeball, like a hammer on a tire. I felt my stomach lurch as I recalled the revolting sound. My gut tied up into a knot, forcing me to raise myself up. Gravelly sputters and dry wheezes jolted my frame, coming and coming again and again till my fit was interrupted.

“Goddess, Private Ashes, if I knew that was the first noise you’d make when you woke up, I’d prefer you stay asleep.” I heard a croaky, sickly, albeit familiar mare’s voice say to me.

Once my coughing fit subsided I turned my head up slowly to look at the pony in the hospital bed beside mine.

It was Soft Gale. She was all but entombed in cotton bandaging and splotched with adhesive poultice soaked patches. As sensation returned to my muzzle, it was assaulted by the overwhelming smells, the main ones being of sanitizer, stale sweat and from Gale; citrus. She was doused in it, probably an artificial odorant to allow people to visit her without being repulsed by the stench of the chemical cocktail she was caked in.

Even still, she had that incorrigibly cocky smile, spirit as unflappable as ever.

I mustered the best smile I could. “Damn Gale, aren’t you a little old to be dressing up like a Daring Doo villain?” It hurt to speak, my throat and my mouth felt dusty from the lack of moisture. I looked to my right and confirmed I did infact have a saline drip. It was depleted, however, and looked as if it had been as such for some time.

She rolled her eyes dismissively with a tsk. “Har har,” she croaked mirthlessly. “Everyone wandering in and out was doting on you, y’know. Seriously, I think it’s the most popular you’ve ever been. For fifty caps, let’s say, I could cripple your ass and make this arrangement permanent.” She teased, her voice sounding like a hoofful of sand was grating against her vocal chords.

I tried to spin around and hang my hooves off the bed, which I did eventually manage to do, but it took a while and a few slow movements which didn’t help with my aches or my nausea. I got the feeling that if a nurse was in here they’d probably be insisting I not move, which was probably wise.

But beyond a very upset stomach and aching joints and muscles I felt fine. Which only made me more anxious. Should I feel fine, should I be in pain, how much pain is an acceptable amount of pain?

I stared at Soft Gale who looked around uncomfortably as I observed her. “See anything you like Private?” she murmured with a weak attempt at a chortle to try break up the awkwardness of the moment.

“Oh...sorry I just..your bandages, what the fuck happened to you?”

Soft Gale made a motion which I assumed was her trying to nod. “More like what the fuck didn’t happen to you, Ash,” she said, wincing as she raised her hooves a little. “This is all from the Blackwater. I got some real nasty burns from it. Lucky to be anywhere near normal looking after what happened in those caves.”

“What do you mean...didn’t happen to me?”

Soft Gale rolled her eyes again, a tick that only really came out when speaking to me it seemed. “Take a guess genius. Look at your own body if you need the hint. You didn’t get any burns whatsoever. Do you have any idea what it was like to listen to those nurses and doctors bicker about that? Like twice a day they’d have an argument about why you weren’t getting burns.”

“And none of them would believe me when I said it was Nova Reductadi,” another familiar voice spoke. I turned around to see the clean cut, no nonsense shape of Gloom standing in the door looking at me. She shot me a gentle smile as she stepped in.

“I should really thank you Ashes. If this was pre-war Equestria you would’ve proven my thesis and I would’ve gotten a big fat cheque and a lot of grant money.” Gloom spoke, walking to our beds. “Granted...you’re the wrong gender. My thesis paper initially said Nova Reductadi was a trait exclusive to mares but...hey,” the mare said not really bothering to greet me or acknowledge me beyond that. It wasn’t just me either, the mare treated all people as apathetically as me and Gale. But I’d long since accepted that was just who this mare was.

Gloom was very similar to Dust in a way, they both seemed to exhibit a distaste for social etiquette. While they both showed a distinct ambivalence, or perhaps fundamental misunderstanding of them, Dust seemed to partake in such things as a way to “fit in” or “be polite”. Gloom seemed to simply ignore them and live without partaking in them.

I nodded slowly trying to take it in. “So...what does...Nova Reductadi do?”

“It's just a genetics quirk. Blackwater isn’t like an acid or a chemical, it's an arcane substance. The burns it causes are Necro-magical burns that deconstruct cells in such a way that they can’t be replaced. So your skin where the Blackwater touched just starts to die and fall away until it gets to the thing it can’t consume, being the bones.” Gloom began, looking at Soft Gale. “But we do have arcane medicines to reverse the bulk of it, if we get them to the patient fast enough, which is why Soft Gale smells like a chemical plant explosion right now.”

Gloom stepped to me and took my hind leg as it hung off the bed rather roughly to feel the skin and the coat on it. “Luna of the night you stink Private…” Gloom said, unable to help herself with a smirk. “Anyway, I wrote in my thesis that--well I won’t go into detail, but I had a theory that it might be possible for somebody to be born with a certain genetic makeup that just ignores the Necro-magic, which I did say would require a certain level of Estrogen be present…” she began before her eyes caught my empty saline bag.

Soft Gale giggled as Gloom muttered her observations aloud. “So the reason Ashes is a flop with the mares is because he is one! Shame most lesbians don’t like the whole ‘cut marble on your jawline’ look.”

Gloom rolled her eyes at Gale’s quip, shaking her head as she stared at the IV stand. “Sweet Celestia., aren’t you dehydrated, Ashes?” Gloom asked, moving over to the bag.

“Yeah...a little bit...I could use a drink.”

Gloom rolled her eyes, reaching up and gently removing the empty bag “Can’t rely on these nurses to do anything, I swear. Hold on I’ll be back,” the mare said trotting out of the room promptly.

I looked back at Soft Gale with smirk before we both sat, letting the silence overcome us, “So uh...what’s been going on...in the waking world?”

Soft Gale stared confused for a moment before her face changed and she figured out what I was asking. “Yeah uh...you won’t get a summary execution…” she began blushing slightly, “You single hoofedly pulled a filly and a veteran out of the jaws of death all on your lonesome, Ash. Some guys with a hell of a lot more stripes than us came in. You’re popular as all hell for it, and according to one of them, ‘put yourself on a fucking untouchable moral podium’. You’re a postercolt now, which I guess rubs your name off the high council’s shit list for now, y’know, for the sake of morale and all that.”

“One eye Ashes, hero of the scouts!” she chirped with a little approving giggle. “That’s what they call you in the barracks. ‘Oh dude did you hear of One eye Ashes? He totally fought off an entire swarm of bloodlings with a fuckin’ sledgehammer!’” she said, twisting her voice to purposefully make herself sound like a schoolyard foal talking about some comic book hero.

I couldn’t help but feel incredibly flattered by that. Was she lying or had my little advent in the caves really been that big a deal that I’d earned some reputation. The smirk on Soft Gale’s face made it all too clear that the mare was guilty as sin in regaling my “heroic tale”. Perhaps it was just to embarrass me, perhaps she genuinely admired what I did, or perhaps Soft Gale knew that embellishing my exploits would probably save me from a firing squad.

I felt a creeping sense of pride beneath my skin. “Ashes the One eye Hero”, but that pride disappeared quickly. These ponies thought I was some kind of hero. I was a murderer. I’d been in prison as a colt.

They deserved a hero a lot better than me.

Soft Gale looked away for a moment “So uh...there's not Court Martial, but…”

“But…?”

Soft Gale cleared her throat. “There will be a meeting. The High Council was waiting until you woke up. Your little motion caused a mess in the chambers. A lot of the veteran captains are really spooked by what happened at Safehouse Tempo. I know you don’t know a whole lot of the classified info private, but a lot of things that weren’t meant to happen...happened, and the council is really worried.”

Soft Gale paused for a moment. “They might promote you and Allure. They’re going to run with the angle of ‘bravery and valiant fighting in the face of insurmountable odds’, but to be honest it's more because…” the Mare bit her lip as she thought about her next words as best she could. “Its because you and Allure saw too much.”

I was about to ask her to elaborate, but we heard the clatter of hooves on tile and gentle chatting in the hallway as Gloom returned with a shorter mare. She had a light pink coat and a tightly tied back red mane, she wore a short uniform dress with yellow bands and pink butterflies on it.

The nurse stared at me as she nervously trotted around and fixed the IV up. She fumbled with it for a moment more, staring awkwardly at me instead of looking at what she was doing. I heard Gloom clear her throat loudly, and the Nurse seemed to get the message, looking back and hooking the saline bag up properly.

Apparently the nurse did something wrong, as she stepped over to look over Soft Gale’s various drips and medicines. Gloom rolled her eyes again, shifting silently into the IV stand to straighten them up, fiddling with what I presumed was one of the valves.

“What time is it?” I asked all the ponies in the room. Not to any of them in particular.

“It's about twenty past ten in the morning Mister Ashes,” the nervous mare said quietly, looking back to me after checking Soft Gale.

Something about the mare was awkward. Perhaps it was the way she stared at me, or that her eyes wouldn’t break contact with mine no matter what she did, but she seemed strange. I hated to think it could be a possibility, but was she perhaps “starstruck”. Was I really that famous? Or simply that disfigured...

Gloom stepped toward me a bit. “He’s been lying in bed for like two weeks, you think maybe you should help Private Ashes here? Perhaps show him where the showers are, Nurse Thrush?”

The nurse nodded and stepped back. “Would you like me to go get you a wheelchair mister Ashes?”

I shook my head. “No no...I can walk, don’t bother.”

“You really think that’s smart Private Ashes?” Gloom said raising a brow. “You’ve not had to stand your own weight for a while.”

Without responding I leaned over my bed stepping off gently. My hind legs shook and tremored as weight was forced upon them for the first time in a fortnight.

I kept easing more and more of my weight onto my legs. I paused as I tried to gain a more stable footing. I felt the aches climb up my legs, up my bones and joints and into my body as I stood on my own for moment. With the lack of balance and creaking of my entire body I felt kind of like a ship anchored at sea, producing weary, pained notes as I swayed unsteadily back and forth.

It was amazing how little I respected my own body's efforts. Now that every muscle from my hooves to my ruined eye ached, I truly got to appreciate how many processes go into simply keeping a pony standing normally.

I took a step, another, and another before my footing became unstable and I clutched the side of Soft Gale's bed to prevent myself from toppling over as my legs oscillated like plucked guitar strings before they gave out from underneath me.

Gloom laughed softly and sighed. "Yeah okay, get him a wheelchair please, Thrush, before he embarrasses himself." The medic mare ordered, the timid mare staring as she left the room.

"Stallions,” she tsked, shaking her head. “I swear, does everything you colts do have to be a dick measuring contest. It's okay to be a little less active when it hasn't even been an hour since you woke up from a two week coma, Ashes.” Gloom scolded me in the way only a mare with no penchant for humor could.

I managed to pull myself back up to an unstable footing as we watched this Nurse Thrush roll a chair back to me, holding it out as I tried to maneuver myself around and sit down, sighing as my aching muscles almost thanked me for getting the weight off them.

The nurse took the saline off its stand and hooked it to a purpose built stand on the chair itself. Soon after we began to wheel out of the room and down the hallway. I saw Gloom staring intently at me and the nurse from between the hospital beds. The medic mare pursed her lips, her scrutinizing eyes narrowing before we left the room and entered the hallways.

The hallways were busy, I should’ve probably suspected that what with it being the main hospital for a major military faction in Penumbra, but it was almost surreal. Clean polished floors, patients wheeling along in chairs like me, doctors well dressed and clean. I had to admit even in Dark Water down things got a little cushy, but it seemed at least that ponies out there acted properly, the kind of way you’d expect a populace to act two hundred odd years after a world war destroyed the planet.

In here felt almost like a time machine, like I was back in the office of that mayor, experiencing the memories of another pony from long before the war.

I could feel ponies staring. Not out of spite, but many were catching glances. Presumably observing the ash grey colour unicorn stallion missing an eye.

I was starting to get worried that this whole ‘maimed hero’ thing might get out of control.

We finally arrived at a door. Nurse Thrush pushed the door open and took us into a tiled and sterile looking bathroom area. A long hallway with doors on either side which I presumed were shower stalls. My nurse pushed another door and exposed a small room big enough for three stallions. A shower head hung over us, and in the middle was a white plastic chair.

She wheeled me to the chair and helped me shift my body off to be seated there instead.

I swallowed hard, symbolically swallowing my pride as I realized I’d probably have to deal with a mare bathing me at least for a while.

She smiled at me, closing the stall door behind her. Moving closer, she gently took the bandages around my eye and slowly unwrapped it, exposing the dressed pad. “This might hurt a bit, but we gotta clean it Mister Ashes.”

I nodded, clenching my teeth tight as she slowly peeled the adhesive tape off. Needless to say exposing a wounded eye was a painful experience, but given I’d had reinforced glass crushed into it, removing this bandage was the least painful thing to happen to my left eye.

I was thankful there was no mirrors in here. I was far too scared to look at my ruined eye out of fear I’d start dry heaving again. I could feel the cold air against the wounds. It was an all too painful reminder of the new disability I’d have to spend the rest of my life with.

The nurse smiled, turning the hot water on. I couldn’t help but let out a sigh even as embarrassed as I was. Hot water was truly a magical thing. It was an experience like no other. Feeling the hot water rush over my aching muscles and joints. Assuaging their protesting pangs as the warm beads all but beat the stiffness out of them.

“You a religious pony Mister Ashes?”

I blinked as I heard the confusing question, turning my head to the Nurse who moved back taking several sterile chemical smelling soaps from some packaging. She waited patiently for an answer.

Too patiently.

“I uh...no I guess not. I mean my dad was of faith, but I never really was one for faith, the sisters are long dead so...not many gods left, you know?” I responded with a confused tone “Why are you interested may I ask?”

The nurse piped up with a cheerful smile “Oh but mister Ashes there is a god! The sisters were merely false leaders. No, no, our god, he offers salvation to those who seek it, enlightenment to those who earn it!” she said with a smile, which as my eye stayed glued to it, grew quickly more frightening.

“...what the fuck is…” I began to stammer out before she continued.

The nurse grinned stepping back and pressing her rear to the door to keep it closed “So tell me mister ashes.”

The whites of her eyes adopted a hellish blood red tinge, like a droplet of blood tainting a still pool. Her lips pulled back and revealed a pair of frighteningly sharp fangs like primitive karambits forged of ivory, and a forked tongue flicking inside her alien looking mouth. “Why did you try refuse the will of The Great Old one? He seeks communion. Only two kinds of pony would resist; a pony yet to learn of The Great Old One’s majesty, or...”

I felt my heart begin to beat faster, I took in a deep breath and prepared to yell before the nurse snapped forward pressing a hoof to my mouth to keep it shut. “A heretic!” she hissed playfully, moving her teeth to my neck in what could have been mistaken for an intimate embrace. “You’re not a heretic, are you Ashes?” she asked teasingly, backing me against the wall, her breath rolled over my coat, humid from her salivations.

I could feel her gruesome incisors press to my neck, more and more pressure being placed on my skin.

I yelled into her hoof as loud as I could, thrashing out and shifting on my seat. My hind legs bunted into her chest, sending her flying back into the door with a loud snap of the wood splintering as the door to the shower shook on its hinges.

“HELP, SOMEBODY! I NEED HELP” I screamed trying to struggle to my hooves as this monstrous mare flickered with a red and white magic. Producing a shrill note she lunged, powerfully bucking from the floor and colliding against my sluggish form as I tried to dodge right. We caught eachother on the shoulders sending my spinning back first into the door which shook and splintered even more. As the nurse tried to regain her footing and spin back around, I lunged my weak body toward the door handle, my horn flaring uselessly to grab it before I yelled out, resorting to slamming my hoof down on the handle to open the door and tumble out of the shower stall and smacking like meat on a counter onto the cold, thoroughly cleaned white tiled floor.

“HELP!” I bellowed as loud as my lungs could. Pushing my hooves against the cold tile floor I yelled as my body fought against gravity in painful protest. Blood flowed down my foreleg, evidently the IV had been ripped from my arm in the struggle, dripping onto the floor. I pulled myself up, grasping the basin of the large sinks on the far wall, using them as a pseudo rail to haul myself along toward the door. “SOMEBODY HELP!”

I could hear the soft click of her light hooves on the tiles behind me as I pulled myself along. The clicking grew faster, and I knew she prepared to lunge. I tried to spin myself around to face the jump, but she was much faster than my crippled body, leading her to pounce into my shoulder.

For a moment she struggled to remain on top and pin me down. My muscles screamed in protest, but with a monstrous yell I managed to pull her off of me onto the tile. I clenched my teeth and with another scream I slammed my hoof into her head, caving it in with a sickening crunch, spraying a mist of disgusting brown coagulated blood. In the adrenaline I hit her again and again. The sounds gradually transitioning from loud, decisive thumps to blood curdling squelches as she stained more and more tiles from the seepage of her crumpled dome.

I tried for one more strike, but my adrenaline could no longer overpower my weakness. I fell against the basin of the sink as the mare pinned beneath me twitched. The brown blood, which reeked of rusted metal, bubbled from her ruined face onto the tiles. I panted desperately as I tried to regain my breath, staring up at the mirrors on the wall above the sink. My face covered in brown sickly smelling blood, my foreleg and chest drenched in my own red ichor. I stared at myself weakly in the mirror, my gaze fixed on my left eye.

Milky white. My iris and pupil a ruin of white hue and red, my eye socket marred with scars and deep cuts from the glass. With what weak strength I had I reached up and touched my eye, swallowing as I drank the image of my distorted gaze in.

I heard the door creak open and the familiar voice of Gloom speak as she stepped in, stopping dead in her sentence when she saw the sight before her.

I turned my head slightly to face the mare breathing deeply as I tried to calm down from the adrenaline.

“Fuck.” Gloom managed to force out, staring at me.

“Yeah...fuck.” I spat back weakly, letting my head lean on the basin.

* * * * * * * *

ACT II

“A choir of madness.”

_______________________________________

“I didn’t think it was possible but I think somehow your aim got worse,” the rough as gravel voice of Quartermaster Cola quipped. She trotted over to me, cigarette smoldering in her lips, and shook her head. “Now I’m no expert, but I think it's because you lost an eye.”

I gave a defeated sigh, pulling the bolt back and ejecting my last round, doing the usual safety protocols and clearing the rifle, placing it back on the bench I was shooting it from.

To my left Allure smirked rather proudly as she wound her paper target’s rail back to her. Almost as if fate had stuck my polar opposite beside me. Her target didn’t have a single bullet outside the tiny aiming circles, her grouping was as tight as it physically could be. The mare made it look like a game for foals.

“I thought you said it shouldn’t matter, Gloom? What happened to ‘your right eye is your dominant eye anyway’ huh?” I asked, stepping away from the firing range.

Gloom shook her head “I never said that, I said it shouldn’t be that bad,” she responded. “I figured as much anyway. I didn’t take into consideration that maybe you just really suck at shooting.” the medic said, for the briefest moment a smirk appearing on her face.

Allure, upon clearing her own rifle, stepped over to me as well. “Well I mean we could give him a battle saddle with a targeting matrix on it, right? Why aim when you can get a machine to aim for you?”

Quartermaster Cola chuckled as she gathered up our rifles and took them back to the reloading bench. “Yeah, and are you paying for that?” The middle aged mare leaned back against the bench and knicked her cigarette between her words. “We find like one functioning targeting matrix saddle a year, and the soldiers and the Steel rangers have pretty much exclusive claim to those seeing as they need them more for the heavy weapons they shove on those exoskeletons.”

Allure nodded with a considerable blush, no doubt embarrassed at having her suggestion shot down so promptly.

Cola tapped her hoof in thought for a moment. We all did. It wasn’t wise to have a pony in your squad who had a distinct inefficiency for fighting. The thought of me being a drag on my squad was worrisome to me. I didn’t want to be a dead weight. A ranger who couldn’t fight was about as worthwhile as dirt.

“Well I mean…” Cola spoke up, looking me up and down, “He used a hammer at Safehouse Tempo, right?”

Gloom looked at the quartermaster with a considerably unimpressed gaze. “You’re kidding, right. I mean as a pony who spends every hour of her working day around firearms you can’t seriously be considering that?”

Cola shrugged shifting her smoke from one corner of her mouth to the other. “I’m serious. In fact I’ve been pushing for melee to be added in for ages. Unless you got a Cast-Scope, range is pretty much gone once you get into the Eerie fog. Stock Ashes with some decent armor, give him an actual combat hammer, and you have a pretty devastating soldier,” she began, “I mean take into consideration that at that range firearms could be too cumbersome to react to multiple targets, plus I’ve seen some freaks in the highlands slip barrels not a second before they fire and close in. It’s harder to slip one hundred and eighty degrees of steel swiping at ya.”

Cola nodded, seeming to like her idea more and more as the rest of us just watched on.“If he has a decent swing and magic strength, he could do some serious freakin’ damage. A strong stallion with a good hammer swing is just as good as a bullet in a lot of cases. Plus you don’t gotta reload a hammer, and there’s no need to carry ammo. The only limiting factor is stamina I guess, and from what we seen he’s got spades of it already.”

“Yeah but now you got him bringing a hammer to a gunfight.” Allure spoke up again.

Cola shook her head, standing up and looking around. “You’re scouts, Private Allure, the objective for you isn’t to get into fights, it's to avoid fights at all times. Reality is if scouts aren’t equipped for actual combat roles, gun or not you’re just as much at risk of dying as Private Ashes is if he ran around with a hammer.”

There was suddenly a deep knocking at the door. In the entrance to the firing range stood three heavily armed rangers who looked to me and Allure, gesturing for us to follow.

“Oh yeah, I forgot we were on a timer.” Cola said spinning around to look at me. “Expect a letter from me at some point. I’ll get to work on something special for you.”

Our guardians looked tightly strung. They scanned the room and the hallways as we approached them and began to leave. Ever since my little ‘incident’ in the bathroom, things had gotten a whole lot less casual around the Lighthouse and the surrounding bases, so I’d heard.

“Ashes, Allure,” Gloom said, halting us briefly which greatly annoyed our guardians.

She looked at our escorts, walking closer to us gesturing for us to bring our ears closer so she could whisper. “You’re going to deny it, because what you will learn will go against every single thing you’ve learned so far in your entire life, but it's true, all of its true and is a result of hundreds of years of study and testing,” she pulled her head away. “Just accept what you read, it will make the process a lot easier for you.

Allure and myself started at Gloom with confusion, the medic mare waving her hoof, gesturing for us to leave. “You’ll know what I mean when you see it, now go, don’t keep the High Council waiting.”

We moved down hallway after hallway, each sharp turn in the winding corridors and each step down a staircase only made the tension increase. I knew I was to expect a promotion to Veterancy, but for some reason it felt very off. There was no jovial sense of celebration, nobody was excited for our ‘achievement’. Everybody seemed worried, like some great burden was about to come to us.

We reached the High Council chambers. The proceeding hallway was guarded by four stallions in towering power armor who carefully watched our approach with weapons almost as huge as my hind legs mounted to their saddles.

As we passed, security grew no less fearsome. We were magically frisked by some unicorn mare casting some spell custom made to find concealed weapons. And we were subjected to a number of small oral tests. Questions only Rangers could possibly know.

We were finally allowed to the doorway to the High Council’s courtroom. I did the honors of pushing the doors open and stepping into the Jury rigged Courtroom I was now decently familiar with.

I heard the light chatter stop, and nothing short of sixty eyes fell on us. In the middle around their ornate wooden table sat the High Council, with a notable new edition of a towering Griffin I knew as Talc seated beside the elderly First Commander Neon, current leader of the Rangers of Alwhinny.

There were a great deal of notable faces in the room. Of course Speakeasy and Tall Tale were there, and sitting by them were the familiar faces of the First Commander of the Engineer corps, as well as two others I vaguely recognised as Captain Folded Iron, First Commander of the Soldier Corps, and the middle aged mare who was Captain Keen Eyes the First Commander of the Sifters. And of course in the corner away from all of them was that same Zebra. Captain Shae First Commander of the Reach garrisons. The latter of which showed a distinct interest to me, his eyes watching intently as I stepped in.

There was another I noticed. He was a very elderly looking Ghoul who stared with a disconcerting smile at me. He was out of uniform too, in some pre war business suit, which while it was clean, it had seen better days, and evidently a considerable level of use. His ruined ghoulish face was familiar, like I’d seen him before, but who was he?

The middle aged stallion who I presumed was the Speaker for the trial cleared his throat and spoke up. “The Proceeding will now resume. As I understand, First Commander Neon, General of the Remnant Rangers of Alwhinny, wishes to take the stand and address the High Council.”

The entirety of the Court stood from their chairs as our commanding officer struggled to his hooves from his seat, walking his elderly self up the wooden stairs to take the stand. “You may be seated,” the old stallion grumbled. His face had the consequences of his actions written across it, marred with old scars, not unlike pale, jagged trenches sprawling across his face, accompanied by the weary, but acutely keen eyes of a buck who spent his life painfully aware of all around him. His gait was heavy, like there was a hidden weight burdening him. His sagely gaze crossed over us. With a rumbling in his throat, his weathered and wilted vocal chords produced clear, hard words.

“We are the Remnant Rangers of Alwhinny, our organization was forged in earnest when the world ended those many nights ago. When the thousand mouth tide besieged this great wall nearly a century and a half ago, those few remaining rangers held the line for days against the onslaught of The Great Hunger,” the old stallion spoke, bracing his frail body against the podium he stood behind. “The day that siege was broken and those abominations were driven back into the highlands, the rangers of Alwhinny swore that until such time that Penumbra was washed clean of its hellish infestations they would protect what was left of Equestria from the horrors this land had spawned, and that oath still holds up to this day.”

There was a rabble of quiet voices, a few voiced confirmations “Here Here”, and other such speak.

“Bravery and refusal to succumb to fear when faced with the uttermost aberrations that ever had the misfortune of crawling out of a foal’s nightmare is the lynchpin of our core philosophy. Both Private Allure and Ashes displayed great gallantry when forced into what most officers would describe as an unwinnable situation. They fought and bled and continued to fight to the point of collapse. They displayed the strength and resolve to remind those freaks why they scatter to their hovels when our squads roam. These actions make them not only heroes to their peers, but model rangers, the kind of soldiers Veterans should all strive to be.”

I saw the faces of several rangers shake with disapproval, voicing their doubts in unclear mutterings. It seemed this praise was unpopular to a great deal of them, especially to Speakeasy and Tall Tale, the former doing a much better job of masking it.

“Thus Private Ashes and Private Allure are to be promoted to Veteran Rangers as of this moment on. They are to begin scholarship in the lamphouse library at the beginning of this final month of autumn. For the record keepers that date is a week and a half from now. Upon completion of their tests they are to resume normal rotations with Captain Speakeasy and his Scouts.”

The hall erupted into noise, as those in favor and those against bickered loudly amongst themselves. First Commander Neon slammed his hoof against the podium, the decisive sound reverberating like a gunshot in an echo chamber, silencing all. “There will be order in this Council! You are Rangers, not bickering foals in the schoolyard! The decision is final!” the elderly stallion roared.

Our commander craned his thick, stiff neck towards the smiling ghoul in his ruined suit. The stallion in turn faced him. “Bookkeeper Solitude,” the old stallion spoke. “Do you agree to take these presented Rangers under your scholarship?”

The ghoul turned back to me and smiled once again. “I do, your honor.”

“Bookkeeper Solitude, do you see Private Ashes and Private Allure as worthy to learn of the restricted codes of the Remnant Rangers of Alwhinny?”

The stallion’s rotted, thinly flesh coated skull bobbed in the affirmative and chuckled, his voice accompanied by a rattle from his centuries of weathering. “Yes your honor, yes I do.”

I didn’t even have enough time to feel the pit in my stomach open. The clamorous din of the discontented quickly picked up which was again scolded away by First Commander Neon and his hoof banging against the lectern.

“The Council will now break for a short recess. When the Council resumes we must discuss a much more...pressing issue,” the elderly high commander said looking at me before turning to face the stands. “It is strictly prohibited to the High Council members, the First commanders and NCO’s, all personnel who do not meet these requirements are not welcome to return when we resume.”

* * * * * * * *

I zipped the bag up tight, massaging my forehead as a dull ache manifested at the base of my horn. I felt a sharp stab each time my hoof touched the bandages.

“You still haven’t told me where you’re going, Ashes,” Allure said, reading a book on her bunk.

I shrugged, slinging the bag onto my back. “Why do you want to know where I’m going?”

Allure shrugged, marking her page and closing the book. “Because maybe I want to come?” she smiled. “If we’re going to be locked in the top floor of the lighthouse for a week, I want to at least go somewhere to help clear my mind,” she said standing up off her bunk. “So...where are you going Ashes?”

I shook my head, giving into her incessant almost childish attempts to make me spill my secrets “Melancholy Bay.”

She gasped and shoved a hoof into my shoulder. “You’re going to MY hometown and you didn’t even tell me! You prick!” she rushed over to her floor chest and opened it.

“What are you doing?”

She smiled, taking a shirt in her hooves and tossing it onto the bed. “Packing my things, I’m coming with you!”

I opened my mouth to protest but I let it go, it was no use trying to convince her. She seemed intent on joining my quick visit to the port town. Instead I paused and spoke up once more. “Say uh...don’t tell anybody this, but Bookkeeper Solitude? That ghoul that's going to be our instructor when we do the veteran training? I think I recognise him.”

Allure looked at me curiously as she stuffed some civilian clothes into a briefcase. “Really, where from?”

I opened my mouth to speak, but I was cut off by a knock from a young stallion at the door, perhaps only a few years older than North, wearing the coat and clothes typical of the walls courier service.

“Letter for Mister Ashes,” he said, taking a pause to recite the words written on the worn, sagged envelope he was holding.

I approached him, reaching for it before he moved it away, clearing his throat expectantly.

I shot him a glare as I looked at the letter in his hoof. My eyes were drawn straight away to the telltale overly ornate hoofwriting of my sister. I turned to look at him. “You kidding me. I don’t tip wall couriers, I only tip the courier who made the journey.”

The courier frowned at me. “Excuse me sir, I did carry this letter!” he said with a snide shake of his head, defending and upholding his lie.

“Oh yeah, a colt as young as you carried that letter all the way from Fillydelphia did you?”

The Courier moved to open his mouth to defend himself but closed his mouth. He had no response to offer, and just handed the letter over before leaving.

I shook my head and stepped back into the room, opening it with my magic. Allure watched intently. “From your sister?”

I nodded, taking the letter out of its envelope and tossed it into the dustbin by the door.

Allure looked disappointed as she continued to gather her things. “Dang, I was hoping it was a letter from Lemon Zest. He hasn’t sent a letter in a while, I’m starting to get worried…”

____________

My dear brother.

I have no idea if you will be awake when this letter arrives. I hope dearly you make a speedy recovery. I regret that I couldn’t be there at your bedside, but work has considerably picked up here in Fillydelphia and I dare not ask my master for another leave of absence.

The day I write this the delegates sent to the wall have returned and told master and myself of the negotiations. I’m not really supposed to tell anybody of negotiations but you were deployed when the delegates arrived and you are my brother of course, so you deserve to know.

It seems as if the Master wishes to build allegiances. I have to admit I did doubt he was doing this out of the kindness of his heart. It seems he’s worried of recently made enemies, and as of late he’s trying to secure strong allies. Your organisation can expect ammunition, armor and weapons. So far, from the talks it seems the master is even willing to supply soldiers. If I’m not mistaken he’s taken a great interest in the Rangers. Perhaps he intends to stake a claim in Penumbra, it's hard to tell, his motives are difficult to read, even for me.

Regardless, please write soon brother, I am worried sick about you.

~Dust.

_______________

Master. The word almost propelled from the page and struck my nose hard enough to water my eyes. I couldn’t imagine anyone, irrespective of threat or charisma able to get her to use such a title. But there it was, she’d changed more than me, and probably without the physical deformity that comes with it.

I sighed and folded the letter up, walking to my hooflocker and placing it with my other letters before I locked it. Another thing to add to the list. I’d totally forgotten about my sister, the last thing I remember was writing a letter to tell her I’d nearly died and was going in for more surgery.

Truth be told I’d almost expected her to write me off and just wait till I’d woken and tried to contact her. I was surprised she was being this worried for me. My warm brotherly side said it was because she cared about me, but I knew Dust. She was cold and cynical. My own cold and cynical side niggled at the back of my mind. She probably felt like that having me alive in the rangers kept her on good terms with her boss.

Getting to impress him because she can easily get in tight with the object of his desired allegiance, no doubt looked good for her if she was hunting for a promotion. My rising in rank benefits her more than me, naturally she’d be sincere in correspondence.

“What’d she say?” Allure asked, smiling at me from across the room as she packed.

I shook my head “Does being a nosey prick come with the territory of being a sniper?” I replied back in humor. “She’s just worried I died. I need to write back to her at some point.”

Allure nodded, throwing a now packed bag onto her bed. “You should, it’s a rare thing in this world to have a sister who would care so much as to get a letter to you from Fillydelphia. It can’t be cheap to get a courier to make that journey,” she said. “I uh...take it that Gloom still isn’t aware of your sisters day-job?”

I shook my head looking at the bag now filled with clothes. “Of course not, how the hell do I break it to Gloom ‘Oh hey you know that horrible nightmare city which, you, through some sisterly miracle managed to escape from and are now constantly looking over your shoulder in fear of slave-chasers, yeah my sister works for them.’ I don’t think that would go down well.”

The mare nodded in a gesture of sympathy. “I know, but she does deserve to know at the very least.”

I nodded. “And I will tell her someday, just when I don’t need to worry about a whole bunch of other shit,” I responded. Glancing back at her I saw how furiously and haphazardly she stuffed her clothes into the case, afraid I’d abscond before she could match up her socks. I couldn’t stop the sigh slipping out. “You really are determined to tag along, aren’t you?” I grumbled, preferring to humour her instead of continuing this uncomfortable line of conversation.

Allure giggled and gave a sharp nod. “Yup, I sure am, I have two weeks and a whole lot of family to chat with. You couldn’t stop me coming along even if you tried.”

I pursed my lips and shrugged it off “Fair enough.” I responded zipping my bag up. “I could use your knowledge of the town anyway.”

“What was it you were saying before, about recognizing Bookkeeper Solitude?”

I took a breath and a moment to pause and think before I shook my head. “Don’t worry about it, it's probably nothing. I doubt it's the same stallion anyway.” I lied, perhaps trying to placate my own anxieties more than hers.

My mare roommate looked at me with a crooked brow. “Whatever, anyway why do you need my knowledge of the town? Going on one of Melancholy Bay’s famous pub crawls?” she said with a cheerful laugh. “Because I may or may not be very knowledgeable on that.”

“Lets just say I need to find somepony specific.”

* * * * * * * *

I hated trains.

I’d never been on a train in my life besides this one time, but I knew already that I hated it. Lucky for me it was probably the only working train in Equestria so I’d luckily never see it again.

I gave a sharp swallow as my nauseous stomach churned from the motions of the train shifting up and down on its rails. My eyes almost spun in my head as the world flew past outside the left window and the grey titanic wall flickered past out the right window.

”Isn’t this magnificent Ashes!” Allure grinned even more gleefully than usual, ignorant or ambivalent to my extreme nausea. “Name ONE other place in the world that still has a working train and railroad!” she said peering out the window like some excited child, staring at the wall that rose above the rails.

I shook my head , the unfortunate side effect being my entire consciousness swam, like my brain did one full rotation inside my skull. I caught myself biting back a gag as the nausea hit my gut hard. “It's not that impressive...it's just some old steam junker...with three carriages.” I managed to squeeze out of tight lips. Able to smell the upwards creeping bile off my breath.

“You have no appreciation for these things Ashes, it’s a train, a working steam train. This is amazing, do you have any idea how much engineering it must take to keep something like this running when there are no more factories to make the parts?”

I stood up and took another deep swallow. “I need to use the bathroom,” I mumbled to the filly, cunningly masquerading as a mare. “I’ll be back in a second,” I said leaning my weight into the rows of chairs in the carriage as I eyed the lavatory at the rear of the carriage.

The carriage was full of faces, staring faces. Even with my head spinning and my stomach threatening to give out, I could feel their eyes burning into the back of my head. They stared at me, at my scars, at my missing eye and the hasty bandages and patch that covered it. Each eye I felt on me was like lead. It weighed my steps, made my movements more deliberate. I didn’t like it one bit.

“He calls for you in his dreams, but you do not answer,” a voice mumbled beside me.

I felt my heart leap into my throat and I snapped my head to the source of the voice. All I got was a stallion with his head leaning on a hoof as he read a book. “W-what was that?” I asked the stallion who just peered up and looked at me confused. “Pardon...did you say something sir?” he asked me.

I blinked and shook my head limping away. “N-no its nothing sorry, I thought you were somepony else.”

“To run from his will is to run from inevitability. His day will come and he will awaken. Ask yourself when he does awaken from his slumber Mister Ashes, do you want to be on his good side?” another voice muttered, this time a filly who was looking out the window excitedly sitting in her seat. Her tail swishing jauntily back and forth, never missing a beat, not unlike a clock’s pendulum.

“W-what? I replied

The filly turned to look at me just as confused as the other stallion did. The pony that was presumably her father turned and shot me a death stare as she wrapped his leg around his daughter, as if shielding her from me. His steeply furrowed brow, jaw tightened angrily, it reminded me of strained and fraying rope. I don’t know why.

Something was wrong.

I needed air, I needed water, I needed to throw up.

“You can run from me Mister Ashes, but you can never hide. I am everywhere. I have tens of thousands of eyes watching you. Tens of thousands of ears listening to every word you speak., A blanket stitched from a hundred thousand rags, stolen from the bodies of the dead who now speak with me,” an old stallion mumbled as he stood up from his seat, adjusting the circular reading spectacles sliding down his muzzle, turning his elderly body around and observing me.

I looked at him as best I could, my delirious gaze barely able to focus on him.

“Oh! Pardon me, I didn’t see you there son, go on by!” he said with a warm simper, gesturing to me as I stumbled past.

I finally reached the door of the lavatory and clumsily thrust it open, falling to me knees and emptied the contents of my stomach. A moment later and this would’ve ended much much worse for the pony responsible for cleaning this train.

“You doing alright in there sir?” a soft voice asked from the hallway. A middle aged mare in some kind of dusty old official's uniform complete with a blue peaked cap. Best guess was the conductor for the train. She gave me a worrying smile which made it hard to read her motive, perhaps it was pity or sympathetic, perhaps something more sinister.

I nodded my head turning my eyes back to look away from the mare. “I’m fine just...motion sick.”

I could see out of the corner of my eye the mare giving a nod of confirmation before she walked down the hall back toward the seats.

A blanket stitched from a hundred thousand thousand rags.

I wonder how long these “Rags” intended on following me.

* * * * * * * *

The rest of the train ride was no more pleasant than it started, at least I had nothing to throw up after that. But that didn’t mean I was less nauseous or scared. I was trapped in some horrible limbo. The train was filled with them, for every three ponies it seemed there was one of those Bloodlings. I could feel them looking at me, their eyes watching, impatiently. Each bead of ocular lead burrowing into my skin.

I wonder if this new fan of mine did this on purpose. It seemed very eager on making me part of whatever queer hive or cult it was part of. Every time I’d met these Bloodlings they’d been hostile to me, but now there was at least half a dozen of them in this very room with me and instead they sat and stared.

Perhaps the ‘Rags’ had unintentionally slipped into a limbo. They couldn’t attack me lest they lose their disguises and expose their true faces from their masks. But on the adverse side of things I couldn’t do a damn thing either. I’d look like I’d gone mad if I started screaming about “fake ponies” and “Bloodlings in disguise.” and I’d probably end up in a ward if I tried to attack one.

It was comforting to think this Bloodling stalker could make mistakes so foolish, but the opposite was more likely. “Rags”, it seems, had planned this, meticulously listened to my conversations and watched my every movement and purposely stacked this train with imposters just to unnerve me. it wouldn’t be a massive leap to assume this nausea was planned too. I had to itemise everything I had ingested, or had physical contact with, a particularly horrific thought.

How many vague faces, how many invisible ponies walking in the background of my life had been this same stranger following me? How many times had I partaken in some conversation or spoke secrets in confidence to others only for one of those thousands of ponies to be nothing more than the ghost of some pony dead and long since forgotten, sauntering around in control of some scheming puppetmaster?

For hours me and whatever this thing was controlling these monsters were forced to enjoy a ‘pleasant’ train ride. Which despite my continuing - maybe even worsening - illness gave me plenty of time to think. I could feel paranoia clawing at my neck. How many of my ‘friends’ were still my friends?

One thing was for sure, I couldn’t be alone, and I couldn’t let my friends be alone. That was exactly what “Rags” wanted, a moment of careless thought, a reprieve in vigilance and it’d sweep in for the attack.

The train arrived at the Station, and with trembling, enfeebled legs I wandered close to Allure out of the train, ignoring the litany of smiles from the sides as I exited. To feel solid ground on my hooves was refreshing, a greatly needed sense of normalcy after hours of the uncanny.

Melancholy Bay was freezing, the overcast sky let in a meager sunlight, and the wet concrete of this rusty station hinted that it’d been raining earlier. The smell of salt was on the air, and as we stepped out from the train station onto an overlooking plateau I stared in awe at the enormity before me on the horizon. A shimmering churning mass which stretched as far as the sky.

The ocean, I’d never seen the seas before.

Along the gloomy looking shore was a town, as big as towns got in Alwhinny. It wasn’t as big as Berryripe Bleaks, but it dwarfed Darkwater Down. I could see pastel figures between the mossy stone and the faded red bricks, sickly and dirty looking boats coming and going from the large concrete port that acted as the centrepiece of the whole town.

A town spared from the madness and ruin, Alwhinny County’s calling card. A town with life. A town with order, society and to beckon romanticism and hope.

As we walked down the steps from this overlooking plateau to the lower parts of the town it seemed that Allure picked up on my wondering gaze. She’d previously been talking though I rather rudely had not been listening or speaking.

It was a beautiful town, not at all like what the Penumbra Highlands were normally like. Penumbra’s towns had been built fast to accommodate the rapid influx of population. This usually meant dreary concrete and prefabricated houses. But Melancholy Bay was a beacon of the old world, a reminder that there was a world long before the smoke spewing factories, sleepless cities and enormous mines.

The houses were all hoof built, with a style that only earth pony minds could summon. No facades, no garish architecture, just cobblestones and red brick with tile and steel roofs. Humble and simplistic.

Out there in the ruins of the world houses like this were annihilated by bombs, bulldozed to build glass monoliths, or simply left to rot when the ponies who cared for them were turned to ash.

There wasn’t a single shanty in the whole town, and that was what was so utterly amazing about the sight. Berryripe Bleaks was bigger, but the large town was mainly made of ruined houses and shanties cobbled together from found materials. Darkwater Down was mainly Wooden structures as trees were all we had anyway.

Besides the odd jury rigged repair job, all the houses were that same stone and brick. I could even see ramshackle construction sites with builders and carpenters erecting that very same brick and stone that this town was made of.

“See I told you Melancholy Bay was beautiful,” Allure smiled as we paced through the stone streets, passing dozens of citizens about their business. “Nobody ever believes it until they see it. I blame the name...and the fish,” Allure said cheerfully.

The view of brick and stone was only broken up when one looked too far to the east and that enormous concrete monolith pushed its way into view, standing mile after mile along the coast until the concrete met the ocean, where it pushed its way into the waves for several hundred metres before it ended in a large lighthouse. Nothing like the towering Lighthouse of the Sisters way back south, it was a functional lighthouse which once guided hulking barges, cargo ships and navy dreadnoughts along the rocky coast of Penumbra now spent its days shepherding the tiny fishing trawlers and merchant boats to its docks.

Whereas the wall seemed like some imposing force everywhere else, looming over the world like some faceless monolith, I could see now see the wall for its real self. Here the wall stood not imposingly but protectively, this vulnerable town and its helpless ponies nestled into the bosom of the titan. The concrete bulwark thanklessly guarding its helpless citizens from the unnatural horrors that lurked both east of the wall in the unending night and the evil that gazed enviously from the wastes to the west.

“So...Melancholy Bay hospital?” I heard Allure speak, finally growing tired of my whimsical romantics.

I shook myself free of my empty mind and turned, giving the mare a nod. “Yeah...I need to visit somebody.”

Allure pointed a hoof to the North East, at a white brick building around four stories tall on the coast just before the craggy dry grass of the dunes began. “Who are you visiting and why did you insist I not come?” she asked as we walked along the streets toward this tall building.

I took a moment to think about a response before I shrugged. “Family, and its personal is all. I have something I need to discuss in private with her…” I paused a moment as that creeping paranoia crawled back. “Actually...come with me to the hospital and just stay in the lobby. After I’m done here I want to hit the town, I could use your knowledge…”

* * * * * * * *

“She’s right in here Mister Ashes.” the doctor said pointing to a door on the end of the stark and sterile white hallway, marked 404 on a metal plate. “If you don’t mind me asking what was your relation to her? Lilly Flower at reception didn’t say, she just told me you said you were related.” the mare said pausing a few feet from the door and lowering her voice to a whisper.

“Yeah...I’m her uncle I said lying through my teeth with all the stone faced ease a colt who’d grown up skipping church and bluffing to a harshly religious father could muster. “I heard what happened I came as soon as I could.”

The doctor mare nodded. “We’ll go in now. I must warn you Mister Ashes...her condition has degraded significantly,” the doctor warned, looking into my eyes with a genuine look of pity and sorrow.

“What happened to her?”

The doctor sighed. “Her mental state has decreased rapidly. Her father, Mister Sticky Wicket, he recently...was submitted here for mania and necromancy burns. Apparently he and young North Star went into Penumbra for work with the Rangers, and well...his symptoms were telltale with Blackwater burning. We could treat the burns, and he didn’t lose any limbs, but...he lost his mind, we’re afraid.”

I nodded, I didn’t have to fake that shock. I’m not even sure why it came as a shock to me. How did I forget Sticky Wicket had rushed down into the caves with me? Of course he was burned by the blackwater, and unlike Soft Gale, he lost the metaphorical coin toss for his mind.

“And North...did she get, burned?”

The mare shook her head. “Remarkably no, not so much as a rash or irritation. She must have been wrapped up tight, shame her father didn’t follow suit,” she sighed moving to the door. “Just please keep in mind she’s very delusional, Mister Ashes. She’s had real problems with paranoia. We can barely get her to eat or take her medication lest she has an episode and gets aggressive. She thinks her recurring nightmares are the result of something invading her mind.”

I felt a lump in my throat which I promptly swallowed. This exact situation was why I was being so secretive and careful. They genuinely thought North was insane.“Wow that's...really heartbreaking. I promise to be careful with her, but the least I can is try talk to her right, if it gets her eating again it will be worth it.”

The nurse nodded and put on a smile as she knocked the door. “North Star?” the nurse said in a soft and gentle voice as she opened the door and slowly walked in. “Somebody has come to visit you!” she smiled, stepping aside and letting me in.

In the corner of the room curled up against the wall was the filly I’d once described as bright and melodic. That had most definitely changed. Her hair was greasy and she looked like she hadn’t properly bathed in days. Her coat looked damp like she was constantly sweating. Her eyes were red and that bright cheerful gaze was now ruined in lieu of dark bags under her eyes.

She looked at me and her eyes shot open, almost as if her mood had changed immediately upon seeing me. She opened her mouth to speak but I cut her off quickly.

“Niece!” I said loudly trying to wink only to realize I only had the one eye to try that with. “I know it's been a while but it's me, I’m your dad's brother, Ashes?”

North looked very confused but her expression changed once she made the connection in her head. “Of c-course I remember!” she said with a smile.

I turned to look at the nurse who kept that cheerful grin up, nodding to me. She backed out of the room and closed the door behind her.

I trot my way over to the filly who rather unceremoniously latched on to hug me. I was unprepared for such intimacy, but I wasn’t going to stop her. Now that I realized what she’d been through, even somepony as cold as me could use a hug after that.

I waited a moment for her to calm down, but she didn’t. In fact the heaving in her small frame betrayed the fact that she’d started crying. I sighed, intimacy made me nervous but I needed to put that aside. I reached down and wrapped my hoof around her as she began weeping.

“They think I’m crazy Mister Ashes…” she sobbed, her voice muffled as her face was pressed into my side.

I didn’t know what to say to her. What did you say to a filly who’d been through what she’d been through? I could imagine the loss of family. I’d had it happen twice, and as North was very aware I was considerably responsible for it happening the second time.

But to be shoved into a tiny room and kept under lock and key and to be told day in and day out that thoughts you knew were real were delusions? That would be enough to break even the strongest ponies.

I knew already what she wanted me to do, and I knew that I was going to have to explain to her why I couldn’t. I was cold but I wasn’t heartless.

“North...I know that you’re going to ask me to get you out of here...and trust me if the situation was that simple I would, but there is a bigger problem right now. Something that makes things very dangerous for me and ponies I actually care about.”

She looked up at me with teary red eyes. At the very least she was willing to listen.

“Some...thing is hunting me, stalking me, even now. I can bet that son of a bitch is sitting patiently in the lobby with Allure waiting for me to leave.” I began. “Bloodlings, North. They’ve followed me back to the wall, and it seems whatever is in charge of them is very adamant on killing or kidnapping me.”

North nodded and kept listening. “This...bloodling infestation is going to get a lot worse before it gets better. The Rangers are in a panic, and I’m pretty sure more and more ponies are dying every day. I’m not sure how deep they’ve dug their hooves in, but that's precisely my problem.”

“W-what do you mean Mister Ashes?”

I sighed and held her tighter as it got difficult to say. “I can fight them...my friends are soldiers, North. We can fight them if they come for us, but you’re a filly, not a soldier. If one tries to attack you…” I tried to continue but I lacked the heart. “They don’t attack somebody unless they know for a fact that their cover won’t be blown. My guess is that their strongest weapon is their ability to disguise themselves. They’d sooner wait than let their cover be blown.” I looked at the door and listened to the gentle muffled sounds of hooves moving on tiles.

“These rooms are monitored day and night. Reception has armed guards, cameras, and security doors. This ward ironically is the safest place for anybody when there's an army of those things infiltrating the rangers. I hate to say it, but as long as you’re in this hospital you’re very, very unlikely to be attacked. Whatever is controlling these things won’t risk blowing its cover to try get to you.”

North nodded slowly. “S-so you want me to stay?” she asked with an absolutely unbearable hint of disappointment.

I nodded shamefully and hugged her tightly again. “I need you to stay here North, until I know that the outside is safer for you. As soon as this situation is handled I will come get you out of here, but for now this is the safest place in the world for you to be. In here you’re watched by guards, fed real food, and have a roof and bed. That's more than I can offer you right now.”

“If you need to, you can come see me in my dreams. Even if you have to do it every night that's fine, but the reality is this ward is the safest place in the world for you to be until I figure out a way to deal with this Bloodling problem. Just play along, eat when they give you food, bathe and drink, do as they say and behave, they are keeping you safe.”

North nodded slowly, sniffing and using her hoof to wipe the tears from her eyes. “O-okay, I understand,” she said softly. “But...you have to promise you will come get me out of here when it's safe...please,” the filly begged.

“I promise, I will come get you out of here as soon as I handle this Bloodling problem.”

North looked up at me and gave me a curious look, and for a brief moment I saw the flicker of that light return to her saddened eyes. “How will you handle it Mister Ashes?”

* * * * * * * *

I watched over the sandy coast as the sun began to kiss the horizon. The only time of day the world got sunlight was dusk and dawn. I’d told Allure I needed to go for a walk and had left our hotel room to stand on the beach. But I wasn’t enjoying the sights, I was waiting.

Along the docks and the cobblestone road above the beach I could see ponies shuffling, citizens and workers. The crowd of a thousand empty faces. Strangers, ponies who may as well have been ghosts to me.

It was in there, one of those thousand faces was under the control of this thing. In that patchwork quilt of earth ponies and unicorns one of them was fake, at least one of these ponies had to be a puppet made of rags.

I saw one pony separate from the town's nightlife beginning to swell near the taverns and inns. I watched carefully as this bright yellow earth pony mare walked down the stone steps to the sand and paced toward me.

I was watching very carefully, my heart began to race as the pony grew closer to her target which had so foolishly left himself alone and isolated, the perfect time to try attack. She spoke up in a husky voice, almost playful and seductive. “Enjoying the sights stranger?”

I knew mares like this one from home, the cheerful type you’d see hanging around at taverns looking for handsome stallions to buy them drinks and take them home.

“You know for something trying to be mysterious, you sure are predictable. I knew you couldn’t resist.” I said to the approaching mare. Who giggled in response, walking closer.

I turned to face the pony who stopped a few feet away from me, shooting me an unnerving smile. I looked into her eyes and tried to probe the face of this vibrant mare, so cheerful and full of life, but I saw nothing. Her eyes betrayed the deadness inside her. No matter how big your smile was, no matter how seductive you tried to be, no matter how convincing your facade was, there was always a flaw in the mask.

“How do you live with yourself?” I asked the mare. “Every single pony..all these faces you wear...does it ever occur to you they were once alive, that they had hopes, and dreams and aspirations. I’m genuinely curious, have you deluded yourself into thinking that your faith makes what you do okay somehow, or are you really just a monster and you don’t care about all the lives you’re destroying just to hunt me?”

Those eyes just grew more dead and her grin just grew wider. “Since when have you cared Mister Ashes. You don’t know this mare, you didn’t know those ponies on the train, you’d never met that nurse. Why is it that you care about them now?” the mare cocked her head to the side as she looked at me, stepping closer. She moved her lips to my neck nuzzling it like she was my lover. Another sinister giggle escaped her lips as she moved to my ear.

“Before I took them they were nothing to you. They may as well have been actors in a play, or faces in the background of some great painting. Until I came along they were merely voices singing and adding harmony to the great big song called ‘Ashes Life’” she whispered. “You didn’t care about them before me, even if you’d like to pretend otherwise. Their death is the only thing that gave them meaning to you. These strangers are only real to you because I make them real. I pull their little strings and force them into your life.” The mare gently lifted a hoof and pressed it to my chest, caressing it before I stepped back and pushed her away from me.

“I’m not a monster Mister Ashes. I don’t bring an end to their lives like you accuse me of. I give them life. I make them part of your story.”

I shivered as her eyes stared into mine, those shallow looking glassy orbs worn like a mask, the soul of this pony poorly imitated while her corpse was danced around on strings for the sick amusement of some monster.

“No more.” I said gritting my teeth in anger. “No more killing alright? I’ll play your stupid fucking game, I’ll come meet you and your precious god, just stop. There is no reason for the innocent to keep suffering like this.” I shot back, my body seething with anger and disgust.

She giggled again. “How do you know they are innocent?” she asked. “Like I said, Mister Ashes, these ponies were nothing. All of them are disposable, meaningless creatures living their empty selfish lives. How do you know she was not a murderer or a rapist. If I told you she spent her weekends hacking dogs and cats to death with a meat cleaver, would you know any better?”

“How do you know she was any of those things?”

The mare almost bounced as she laughed, the monster wearing this mare like a face was ecstatic like I’d asked it a question it’d waited for me to ask.

“Because she isn’t dead Mister Ashes, she’s in here with me. Every memory she ever had, her dreams, her hopes...her sins. I can feel and see them all. I don’t kill them at all. A blanket stitched from a hundred thousand rags, Mister Ashes, like scrap cloth on the floor of a mill. Each piece is a different size, shape and quality. On their own they’re useless garbage waiting to die or be swept away, ignored in a great meaningless heap as they all wait for the end of days.”

She stepped closer to me and I rather quickly took a step back. “But together all of them sewn into one great patchwork…” the mare said, her grin slowly fading back into a content looking smile. “They have purpose...their meaningless little lives suddenly have meaning. There is no “you” behind this mare Mister Ashes. This mare is me and I am her. I am not a rag nor am I multiple rags, but I am a hundred thousand rags in one great tapestry.”

The mare spun around, walking away from me with a cheerful hum. “Do not worry about coming to find me Mister Ashes, I will bring you to me, or would you rather keep running from me?” She laughed growing more distant as she skipped away before stopping. “Hah...who am I kidding, you never had a choice to begin with.”

I kept my body tense and my teeth clenched tight, my jaw refusing to unlock as I watched that yellow mare walk up the stone stairs, and in the blink of an eye she bled into the crowd of ponies milling and walking about the paths of the town, disappearing into a tide of faces just as quickly as she’d appeared.