No Rest

by Vessel Lazarus

Rating: mature
Tags: Gore, Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Comedy, Adventure, Profanity, Violence, Princess Celestia, Human, Main 6, Princess Luna, Drama
Length: 17527

Hired as a bodyguard at Princess Celestia's request, a wanderer is about to have his life changed in ways he never thought possible.

Tyrian has done many things in his life, but he did not expect to be hired by royalty, at least not directly, to be a personal bodyguard to some pampered aristocrat. But it's probably going to be the best paying contract he's had in a while, and with a sudden abundance of free time, he's in a prime state for a babysitting job.

Here's hoping it doesn't bite him in the ass.

Art by Matthias De Muylder

Published 2018-12-18 14:20:02 UTC
Last updated 2019-03-02 22:31:27 UTC

A Poor Introduction

In society, alley bars are seen as quite unsavory and were thought to harbor ne'er-do-wells and criminals alike, along with being kind of gross. Many an honest barkeep were shunned by the polite public and had to deal with less than honest customers. However, if one looks hard enough, and shuffles a few bits around, they can find certain diamonds in the rough, and they will turn your night from hell to drunk hell in no time. But, no one likes a bar filled to the brim with drunkards or rich nobles smuging it up, so they dig deeper and find the best of the best.

The Tap Shack was not one of these places.

But Tyrian, the bars most frequent customer, liked to see it as one. He thought Manehattan was far better off with it than without. All the other patrons, criminals as he was, came for a drink and work, a luxury for the underworld. Tyrian would usually buy a round for him and his closest friend, who happens to be the owner of The Tap Shack. Today, however, he was not in the mood for a drink.

"Oi, Ty, you gettin' anythin' or ya jus' gonna sleep?" drawled the cockney giant himself, Red Tap.

"Mwrphin wermprn" said Tyrian, who was making first base with the bar itself.

" 'ow about the special?" Red offered.

Shaking his head, Tyrian raised his hand and pointed behind Red.

"Straigh' 'ta work, eh? Alrigh' le's have a look 'ere" He turned on his heel a took out a small black box, opened the lock with a key and looked inside.

"One 'ere from Bedlam, but I know your opinion on 'im" Red chuckled at the groan from Tyrian.

Red started sorting through all the letters in the box, about a dozen or so, which made it a slow week at the bar. The summer solstice quickly approaching was putting most of the plans in the underground on halt, as even some of the worst of the worst like a holiday every now and then. Tyrian was an exception, bringing the worst of him out to play.

Many a nose had been broken during the last Summer Sun Celebration, and Tyrian had a rep to keep up.

Tyrian raised his head, his brown hair falling back into it's normal, messy state. Tyrian started combing through his hair, making it slightly less tattered looking but stopped when he noticed Red Tap stiffen at the sight of the last letter in the box.

"Red? You all right?"

"The royal stamp." Red said flatly.

The patrons behind Tyrian hushed up quite a bit at that, and Tyrian felt all their stares burn a hole in him and Red.

"I'm sorry? Did you sa-"

"It's for you." Red interrupted sharply, confusion turning into irritation very quickly.

"Hey, now big guy, it's not-" Tyrian's head and the bar made contact once again, but much more violently this time.

"You rat! I had you pegged from the start." A calloused hand gripped Tyrian's hair, and breath reeking of whiskey wafted over him.

"Hey, Swift, how's your night going?" Tyrian drawled through his broken nose.

"Swell, until I heard you was a rat bastard." Swift Raze growled.

"You ass, if I was a rat, you'd think I'd sit here and wait till I was found out?"

"Maybe not, but I see a wax stamp and your name next too it. Pretty damning, I think." Swift laughed darkly.

"Yeah, it is, and I can't explain it, so if you're gonna kill me, do it already and stop breathing on me." Tyrian gritted his teeth.

"Your wish..." Swift grinned.

Tyrian felt a cold point trail up his back.

"...Is my command"

~~~

Tyrian hopped off the train, setting his foot into the city of Canterlot, capital of the nation.

He had only been here once before on a job, one he was not very proud of, but it had set him up with a nice nest egg in case he needed to leave, which he did. Walking in stride, he passed numerous shops that caught his eyes, as well as a few passersby's, but nothing worth chasing after, he didn't need another tryst with Canterlot's biggest stars.

Tyrian wondered what Hoity Toity was up too nowadays. And, of course, Hoity Toity brought to mind Fluer de Lis, the model that could make the stars stand still and stare. Sighing through the nostalgia, Tyrian slowed to a halt at the sight of a few guards approaching him with less than joyful expressions on their faces.

Tyrian put on his innocent smile and waved, causing the lead to scowl deeper, much to his enjoyment.

"Halt. Name and your purpose here." The lead guard boomed.

"Oh, well, the names Tyrian, nice to meet you by the way," Tyrian grinned sincerely.

The guard did not respond and only waited for the second half of his explanation. The two guards behind him, seemingly newer to the position, let their shoulders drop in both confusion and amusement.

"and for my purpose here," Tyrian reached into his coat pocket and pulled out the letter that he had begun to hate.

"This." His smile grew wider.

The guard visibly flinched at the sight of the seal. The pair in the back glanced at each other disconcertingly.

"Forgive my rudeness, sir, I was not aware you'd be arriving this soon." The guard bowed his head slightly, but his eyes did not break contact with Tyrian's.

"Not a problem, my friend. Just point me in the right direction." Tyrian pocketed the letter back into his grey coat.

"Yes sir, keep heading down this road until you reach the castle gates and show the seal to the men there, and they'll bring you to the throne room." He pointed down the street and towards the white and gold tower above the rest of the city.

"Thanks, I'll be on my way then." Tyrian strode past the trio, until he turned on his heel.

"I'm sorry, but what is your name, if you please?"

"Lieutenant Shining Armor, sir." Shining nodded.

"Shining Armor. I'll remember that." Tyrian chuckled before turning back, whistling as he went.

It was a solid minute before any of the soldiers spoke.

"That was him, wasn't it." Gunny asked.

"Faust, he sounded so normal but so strange at the same time." Sky Spark said under her breath.

Shining Armor suppressed a shiver from an invisible wind. A few paranoid thoughts rushed through his head, but they were quickly squashed under the biggest concern he had.

They had just let the killer of the entire Manehattan underground walk past them.

Author's Note

This being my first story on the site, I hope the criticism will refine and adapt my writing style.
That being said, feel free to leave any constructive criticism in the comments.

P.S: The cover art is a placeholder (closest thing I could find that at least somewhat resembles Tyrian) and if anyone feels like sketching/finding a shaggy haired 26 year old in similar clothing, less armor specifically and head accessories, I would GREATLY appreciate it.

Down to Business

Tyrian was absolutely livid.

Not only had his entire livelihood been destroyed, but he was the one who had to tear it down. So many contacts and so many loose ends had to be burned and dealt with, and he had become the single most wanted man in the Underground. Very powerful people would be on his back now and he didn't have the time or energy after Manehattan to go after them all. That and he would likely die.

Just one simple letter requesting his presence at Canterlot Castle had made his entire life so much more complicated. Once he was in front of the Princess, he doubted he could hold his composure and not just fly off the handle. Being vaporized wasn't at the top of the list of things he wanted to do right now, so he had a plan.

He wasn't going to say a damn thing.

It was perfect, as it would convey the unbridled sass he had built up this past week and keep him alive. Tyrian smiled to himself, the first completely genuine one that day, at his own brilliance. Of course, he had to sneak in a few unsavory glances, just to make sure

However, that smile was quickly extinguished as he glanced up at the clock on the wall in front of him.

3:15.

He had been waiting for an entire hour.

Tyrian sighed and slouched down into his chair, feeling the boredom come back in full force.

'Faust, I bet Swift didn't take this long to get into Tartarus.' He snarked to no one. Tyrian blinked at what had just gone through his head and chided himself.

'Okay, wow, that was a dark thought. Can't be going into this with that mood.' Tyrian shook his head to knock the bad thoughts out of his brain.

Tyrian stretched, his antsy muscles getting the attention they craved. Tyrian eyed a loose strap on his left gauntlet and went to adjust it, thinking as he did whether or not he should've worn his work clothes to this meeting. Sure, a steel reinforced leather cuirass with steel-toed boots and his grey battle coat were quite intimidating, but that wasn't really what he was going for. With that thought, he cast a glance full of regret at his many pointy knives scattered across his body and backup knife across his chest.

Hearing approaching footsteps, he sat up, trying to be presentable. Just now rounding the corner to the throne room, a woman wearing glasses and holding a clipboard with many papers looked up at Tyrian, her black heels clicking against the marble floor.

"Tyrian Shadegale, I presume?" She said flatly.

"Yep, here to meet Princess Celestia, as requested." Tyrian showed a fake grin. The aide did not smile back, and only turned her back to him, her hair wrapped in a bun coming into view, and started walking back the way she came.

"This way, please."

Tyrian shot up, grabbed his small satchel, and lightly jogged to catch up to her, trying not to run into any of the very expensive looking ornaments on display around them.

"Hey, quick question, exactly does she need me for? I'm kind of in a bad spot in my life right now, as you know, and I don't want to go through all this trouble if you're just going to arrest me." Tyrian asked as politely as he could manage while wrapping his bag around his head.

"The Princess has wished for a meeting with you, and I have not been made aware of a plot to trap you." She spoke dryly, not looking up from her papers.

"Well, that answered nothing, thanks." Tyrian snarked.

"You are quite welcome, sir." She said with an almost imperceptible grin.

In the gilded hallway stood two Royal guards, looking straight ahead, seemingly unaware of their presence, but Tyrian knew if he reached into coat at all, they would spring into action. Their golden armor looked fancy, but he knew that it was as hard as stone, enchanted by some of the most powerful wizards the Equestrian military had to offer. His coat had similar enchantments, but nowhere near the strength of theirs. A twinge of jealousy made its way into his thoughts, but he pushed it away as they neared the gold door to the throne room.

"Please deposit any and all weapons onto the table to your right, please." The aide motioned to a long silver table with numerous etchings of a flowing pattern with a sword emblem carved into the middle.

Tyrian began with the long dagger on his chest, unsheathing it slowly, gauging the reaction of the guards next to him. The one closest to him glanced at Tyrian's hand but the other guard continued to look ahead, as he expected. Tyrian proceeded to place all the weapons he had, excluding ones he knew they wouldn't find, just in case.

After taking the last blade from his boot and placing it along with the rest, the table being quite filled. With a satisfied sigh, he stepped in front of the dumbfounded guard with a smug smile. He snapped out of his stupor and motioned for Tyrian to spread his arms. Doing so, Tyrian almost immediately started to giggle as the guard started his sweep.

"What's your name, guy? Feel like we should get to know each other while this is happening." Tyrian said between his bouts of giggling.

"Sargent Light Echo, sir." Light said with a sigh. Light brushed all around Tyrian's body, putting more pressure on spots where hidden things were usually known to be put. Tyrian started to giggle a little harder as the search was coming to a close, but the Sargent threw him a curve ball. He patted a spot that had a hidden blade, his face scrunching up in slight confusion. Tyrian giggles quickly died out as Light Echo's hand glowed with silvery magic, much to his dismay.

"Welp, shoulda guessed that wouldn't work." Tyrian chuckled depressingly.

~ ~ ~

Tyrian shuffled uncomfortably into the chilly throne room, the robe he had been provided doing nothing to warm his now naked body.

"I know you enjoyed that sergeant, you can't fool me!" Tyrian yelled through the closing doors, trying to redeem some of his pride.

"Come now, let's not be petty." said a kind voice behind him, and he immediately felt warmth wash over him. He turned his body around, still clutching his shoulders, eyes widening in awe.

The Solar Princess stood in front of him, almost a head taller than him, radiating seemingly enough heat to sufficiently warm him, but not enough to make him uncomfortable. Her pure white robes accented with gold, her crown shining in the afternoon light cascading through the stained glass around them. Her hair, beautifully flowing in a nonexistent wind, was clearly sparkling with pure magical energy. He let go of his arms, no longer concerned about the fading chill. In motherly fashion Celestia put her arm around Tyrian and guided him across the throne room, not saying a word, only humming to herself.

Tyrian, being at a loss for words, uttered no sound as she let go and proceeded to climb the steps to her throne.

"Now then," Princess Celestia sat down with an easy smile on her lips. "I have heard many interesting things about you, Mr. Shadegale."

Tyrian coughed, regaining his composure.

"Most of them are bad, right?"

Celestia chuckled. "Yes, most of them bad, but some trusted individuals have assured me that you are what I'm looking for."

"And what would that be?"

The Princess's smile grew a hair more, now with a bit of mischievousness in it.

"A bodyguard."

Author's Note

All right, getting into the flow of things now.

Expect the story's picture to change in the near future.

An Evaluation

Tyrian laughed breathlessly.

'A protection job! All of this was for a goddamn protection job!' The laughter turned real, and Tyrian couldn't seem to stop.

Celestia raised an eyebrow at his behavior, a tad astonished at the mercenary's reaction.

"What, pray tell, is funny about this request?" Celestia spoke, pulling back the mirth from earlier.

"Just-heh-just, that's it?" Tyrian said, trying to rein in his laughter. "Protection jobs are run of the mill, newbie shit, and you made me kill dozens of people just to come here and hear this? It'd better be you or some controversial diplomat that needs protecting." Tyrian crossed his arms in building annoyance.

The disrespect was expected, but for him to pull his weight, she needed to make him see her seriously. She shifted in her throne, allowing her ivory wings to become unfurled.

"Mr. Shadegale, Tyrian, please take a moment to remember who you are talking to." Celestia said sweetly, but at the same time, fueled her aura, the air around her very quickly turning to steam. The Princess's hair lost it's flowing quality and now moved like fire, licking the air impatiently. Her tanned skin seemingly shimmered through the haze of heat surrounding her and the throne.

"I am the Princess of Equestria, Heir of the Sun, and you are a low-life deemed worthy to be allowed to pull himself back to the surface. Do not test the sun, or you will be burned." Her eyes began to glow the same color as her inheritance in the sky above.

Tyrian, much to his own surprise and Celestia's amusement, flinched hard. He half expected her to just reduce him to a shadow on the ground, the ashes of his body burned into oblivion.

But no such attack came, only a significant drop in temperature and an out-pour of laughter from the Princess.

"My, my, I haven't seen you smack someone down that fast since Prince Blueblood came to visit." A new, deeper voice from the entrance of the throne room.

"Yes, I believe you are right, Pierce. That was a good day." Celestia said, wiping a tear from her eye. "Mr. Shadegale, if you turn around, you'll see my associate, Pierce Veil, who details the state of the Underground." She raised a hand toward the man approaching the throne calmly, who cast an experienced glace down Tyrian's body, who had suddenly felt a bit self-conscious, fidgeting in his white and gold robe.

"I see you didn't make it past the pat down, Tyrian. You're slacking, not good." The older man observed, his incredibly fit body betrayed by his salt and pepper hair. Wrinkles marred his fairly attractive visage, both laughter, and anger playing a part in his day to day activities. He wore an old officers coat, not but not up to regulation, with many scuff marks and wear appearing in excess across the weathered outerwear. Tyrian knew him, slightly, as Celestia's unofficial spymaster, who had been a pain in the ass for the Underground for decades. He couldn't count how many assassinations this man had single-handily stopped before they began. Tyrian eyed a folder under his arm, bulging slightly with information.

"So, that was just for show, huh?" Tyrian turned back to Celestia.

"Of course it was! What would my subjects think of me if I just destroy anyone who gets on my nerves?" Celestia grinned without malice.

"She wouldn't make it past the first noble asking for another tax cut." Pierce chuckled as he strode past Tyrian and up the throne's steps. He handed Celestia the folder out from under his arm and took a place beside her, placing his hands behind his back. Celestia opened the folder and started to skim over the details collected by Pierce Veil's contacts, all of them relating to one Tyrian Shadegale.

Various bookmarks denoted specific activities and jobs Tyrian had been a part of; Shakedowns, theft, murder, assassinations, and a few protection jobs, mostly for crime lords and kingpins. One crime lord that he had worked for raised a couple red flags for Celestia, the murderous and manic Bedlam.

"You worked for Bedlam for a few months. What is your opinion of this man?" Celestia prodded, as his answer would be detrimental to his employment.

"Bedlam? Guy's a psycho, paid really good, but that's if you didn't get a knife in the gut for not petting his pet chameleon, which, ya know, is pretty hard considering it's a chameleon, and that's if ya find the fucker in his thirty-foot terrarium." Tyrian shrugged.

"I assume you found it, all things considered?"

"Second time around, yeah." Tyrian started to undo his robe, much to the surprise of Pierce and Celestia.

As he undid the knot holding the robe together and obscuring his delicates, he held the two parts of the robe together, only allowing his stomach and chest to be seen. Below his navel, a jagged scar, about three inches long traveling across his abdomen.

"Yeah, he got me good, had one of his guys throw me a needle, string, and some alcohol to patch myself up. After that, he gave me the job, said it was an apology, so yeah, the guy's motherfucking insane."

"Language, please." Pierce chimed in, getting a quick glare from Tyrian.

"Well, that is very -ahem- informative. But you didn't truly answer the question." Celestia finished reading about his psychological state.

"Hate'em, but not enough to go out of my way to kill him."

"Good, no need to add another murder to your very long list of crimes. Saves me paperwork." Pierce Veil smiled.

"Now that is out of the way, I'd like to ask you about your combat experience, which I assume is extensive." Celestia flipped a sheet detailing the short time Tyrian venture out of the country, which was apparently against his will. She chuckled at some of the exploits he had found himself in, such as streaking through a crowded Griffon marketplace, much to the enjoyment of the kidnappers.

"No formal training to speak of, as a result, his swordsmanship is fairly lacking in efficiency, often relying on overpowering or blitzing his opponent. His technique with knives and daggers, however, is quite impressive. Bows seem to be an afterthought for him, but he has shown proficiency in it nonetheless." Pierce spoke, slightly annoying Tyrian.

"I'd like to hear it from him, Pierce, but thank you for the summary." Celestia handed him the folder, having memorized most of the important information.

"Of course, apologies madam." Pierce nodded apologetically

"Well, shit, what the hell am I supposed to say now? He basically covered everything perfectly. I mean, I got some magic infused capsules for blinding people and blowing shit up, but those are last resort stuff." Tyrian patted where his bandoleer of said crystals were held, only to sadly remember the loss of his weapons to the dreaded Light Echo.

"You'll get your equipment back after this evaluation dear, so stop sulking." Celestia reassured

"He better not have touched my sword, Oathkeeper is my baby." Tyrian mumbled.

"I'm sorry?" Pierce let a small chuckle escape him.

"Shut it, lapdog." Tyrian snapped.

"Now, now boys, let's not start a fight in the royal throne room. I was just about to address the job you were brought here for. " Celestia held a hand up, her eyes closed in a facsimile of serenity.

"Oh, really? Out with it, then." Tyrian uncrossed his arms, pleased with getting to the point.

Celestia cleared her throat and gestured toward the mercenary. Pierce Veil nodded and took out a small, wrapped scroll with a white and gold band securing it, and walked down the steps of the throne.

"Mr. Shadegale, the State and Royalty of Equestria have agreed to issue a pardon for your crimes against the nation and the peace it holds in high esteem should you agree to this contract and uphold the rules and roles that you are expected to follow." Celestia decreed clearly.

Pierce held out the document to the robed man in front of him, amused by the now shocked look plastered on his face. Tyrian slowly took the contract, still processing the offer in his mind. Once he had removed the band and unrolled the scroll, his eyes began to skim the legal wording, eventually resting them on the payment. It took his simple mercenary mind a second to process the word before the actual money he would receive should he accept.

-A Salary of 100,000 bits shall be attributed to the employee after each month of protection, along with a stipend of 1,500 bits for daily expenses-

Tyrian felt his mouth dry at the sight of this development, his brain halting function in shock.

"Tyrian Shadegale, do you agree to be an employee of the Equestrian government?"

Tyrian lifted his head toward the voice above him, locking eyes with the Solar Princess, who smiled in sincere anticipation.

"I-I-um-how-" Trying to recover, he cleared his throat, only to find it had dried up faster than a drop of water in a Zebrakas desert.

Somewhere deep in his paralyzed mind, he felt his sense of irony come flooding back with a vengeance.

'Guess I owe Swifty an apology."

Author's Note

Not as long as I wanted it to be, but I wanted to even out the pacing for these next few chapters.

Thanks for being so patient, ya'll.

Babysitter, Meet Baby

Tyrian walked down the gilded marble hall, statues of heroes of Equestria's past and beloved allies of wars and mythical adventures lined the hall, along with priceless paintings made by some of the greatest artists the world has known, likely collected by the ageless Princess Celestia. The thought of her and her oh-so-serene smile angered Tyrian along with the aching in his legs. At her request, he had been told to go and retrieve his ward from the other side of the castle and had given him a vague direction and a marking to look for.

Walking around this castle’s interior had given him an appreciation of all the thieves, legendary and unknown alike, who had either lost their lives or were locked away for years trying to enter this fortress. Some of the things he had seen would have been able to fund a small nation with the exorbitant value they had, making out with a single item would have made any thief a very rich criminal. While he was no connoisseur of art and stonework, he did appreciate the surplus of ancient weapons from around the world put on display, though he noted that they were far and few in between compared to the passion projects around him.

As he rounded a corner, his eyes locked on one weapon in particular, mounted on the wall surrounded by what he guessed were protective sigils, was a sword unlike any he had ever seen. It seemed to absorb the light around it, the chandelier above him not producing the amount of light it should’ve. Its hilt was master-crafted to perfection, many runes dotting its surface and pulsated with still flowing magic, the guard was molded into the shape of a crescent moon, likely to catch any weapon to make the mistake of clashing with it. The blade was the true standout, however, as it was decorated by age and wear. It was a warrior’s weapon, one that was incomplete without its wielder.

He knew who the sword belonged to, the plaque underneath it only confirmed it, but it didn’t matter. The sword hadn’t moved in over a thousand years, and Tyrian knew it was likely to stay for a thousand more. He turned away from the piece of ancient history and continued down the hall, to where he was told his ward was waiting for him.

Art and colored glass windows followed him down, each telling a part of history that most people had long forgotten, old enemies and friends lost to the sands of time, only known by those dedicated enough to delve into the lexicon of ages past in Celestia’s library. Tyrian had once tried to break into the library to try and steal a book detailing the lineage of noble families to present day a long time ago, but that heist had ended quite quickly.

The hallway split into three, Tyrian headed down the one that had a large pair of doors marked with the emblem he had been shown, a purple star with several smaller white stars, and opened it to the outside. He was met with a large white and gold tower, a staircase winding all the way around it and leading to a platform all the way at the top. Tyrian was not enthused by this development.

“Are you fucking kidding me? I walk a mile around trying to find this place and I have to walk up this shit too?!” Tyrian whined, knowing his body was on its last legs, both figuratively and literally.

~ ~ ~

“So, Princess, now that is over with, will you answer my question now?” Pierce Veil shook his numb hand and reached for his teacup.

“Which one? You’ve asked many today.” Celestia blew on the steaming tea and took a small sip.

“The one you keep dodging. Why him?” Pierce held his cup in his slightly trembling hand, his grip taking a bit of effort to keep.

“I’ve done dozens of background checks in my life and never have I seen so many blank spaces in someone’s life. Tyrian effectively started his life six years ago and has participated in nothing but criminal activity, and we hire him?”

“Do you trust me, my old friend?” Celestia took in the beauty of the castle’s garden as she waited for his response.

“Of course, Celestia. How could I not?” Pierce gestured to his right arm, the motion causing him to lose his grip on the cup. A golden shimmer, milliseconds after he dropped it, engulfed the cup and its contents. Celestia raised her cup to her lips, her left hand covered in a light mist of gold energy.

“T-Thank you. My hand slipped, my apologies.” Pierce flexed his hand in discomfort and took the cup from the cloud of magic.

"Come now, Pierce, don't hide your pain from me. You should know better, I was there when it happened." Celestia scolded. "What did the physician have to say about your progress?"

"The nerve damage is progressing as expected, so I've got at least a few more years of life left in this hand, at least seven, he said. I'm surprised it lasted as long as it has, to be honest. Though, not many people get healed by the 'Heir of the Sun' herself." Pierce chuckled lightly.

"Enjoy that, did you? I have to say, even I thought that was a little much, but it was worth it to see that face he made." She giggled at the memory of the mercenary recoil at the sight of her power, his face plastered with regret and a hint of fear.

"I think he learned not to test the sun, alright. You-" Pierce blinked as he thought, scolding himself. "Ah...This was a misdirection, wasn't it? Jeez, I'm getting slow." Pierce chuckled at the trick.

"Can't I ask how my friend is feeling and change the subject?" Celestia, finished with her tea, looked into his eyes earnestly.

"I appreciate it, I do, but we should talk about what Mr. Shadegale will do for us. We know he'll do what he's told, seeing as his pay is enough for a dozen guards, but what else did you have in mind for him?" Pierce waved over a maid, who walked over and poured more tea into both their cups.

"If Twilight is to be who she is destined to be, her rise will need to be assured, and with the Cult's re-awaking, it will be difficult. For now, let her and her bodyguard think everything's alright, that the sun will rise tomorrow, and if they play their part, it will."

~ ~ ~

Tyrian about collapsed at the last step, sweat collecting on his brow. His legs burned like Tartarus if it was filled with fire ants.

Through his grunts and gasping, Tyrian allowed his mouth one word, starving him of oxygen for the second.

"Fuck."

Spotting a bench at the side of the platform, he stumbled over to it while reaching for his canteen on his hip.

As he about fell onto the bench, he heard the door that leads into the tower's room open, and the sound of talons clicking on the marble. Tyrian felt his instincts kick in, his hand still on his canteen, his mind trying to piece together why a lizard was in the castle.

'Diplomat? No, no, dragons aren't that docile, if they had a problem they would have set it on fire. Why, why, why? It's getting closer. Act.'

As he heard the dragon open its mouth, he whipped around, uncapped his canteen and shoved it into its mouth.

"MPHM!" The young purple and green dragon's eyes widened in panic and confusion, his arms flailing in a futile attempt to break the strong arms holding him.

His mind finally registering the dragon's size and emotions, he pulled back in apprehension. The canteen clattered on the ground and the dragon pulled himself away, falling on his back.

"Ah shit, are you alright kid? I'm sorry about that." Tyrian put his hands up, hoping the baby dragon understood.

"Why-" The purple dragon coughed up some water, his entire body shaking. "Why did you do that?!"

"I'm paranoid, I guess. Dragons are really hard to fight and I've fought a lot." Tyrian explained as he went to help him up. "To be honest, you scared me, kid."

"Really? I scared you? You're some kind of soldier and I scared you?" The dragon got to his stubby feet, shook a bit, and looked up at the man towering over him.

"That really hurt, but you seem alright. Just really weird is all. I'm Spike, Spike the Dragon. Who are you?"

"I'm Tyrian, Tyrian Shadegale. Again, sorry about that." Tyrian gestured to the lonely canteen. "You'll probably not be able to produce fire for a while, by the way."

"What are you talking about?" Spike let a small burst of green flame out of his mouth. "See? Fire's still burning."

Tyrian, both amused and shocked, laughed at the sight. "Dang, kid, you're somethin' special. Even the biggest dragons can't take in water and breath fire like that."

"Really?" Spike smiled a little at that. "Guess I'm a Super Dragon then." He grinned proudly, Celestia always said he was special, but hearing it from someone else made it real.

"Yep, guess you are. Hey, I'm supposed to meet somebody here, are you alone?"

"No, Twilight, my sister, is in there." Spike thumbed at the door behind him, it's purple and white frame glistened in the afternoon sun. "She's busy reading about some prophesy thing, and I went out to get some air. It's really stuffy in there, you know?"

"Well, I'm here to get her, we're leaving in a couple hours, so we need to be heading out soon." Tyrian put his hands in his coat's pockets.

"Oh, right. We're heading to, uh, Ponyville right? What are you, like some guard on break or something?" Spike asked inquisitively, eyeing the man's armor underneath his grey cargo coat. "Aren't you hot in that? It's like eighty-five degrees out."

"This?" Tyrian splayed his hands out in his pockets. "Nah, I don't get hot. Even around fire and stuff, barely feel it."

Tyrian remembered once where he accidentally went into a lit fireplace, trying to sneak into an artists house for some trinkets to sell when he was just starting out. Soot and ash went everywhere and he was pretty sure his clothes caught fire, but he didn't feel any of it. He even put out the flames with his bare hands, and even then, he still felt the chill in his hands from the winter outside.

"Huh. You sure you're not a dragon then? Maybe your mom or dad was, like, a hybrid or something? Man, if they were, that'd be just like the superhero Wyvern! He was born to a family of dragon-human hybrids that wanted to rule the world, but he just wanted to help people, no matter what his parents made him do or wanted him to think! But later in the comic, he's been worried that evil runs in the family, but I haven't gotten to the end of it yet." Spike was visibly shaking in excitement as he talked about his comic book, but Tyrian needed to get this back on track.

"Hey, hey, we can talk about superheroes all you want later, but we gotta train to catch, so if we could go get Twilight, we can go now."

"Oh, right." Spike deflated a little, but he turned on his heel and gestured Tyrian to follow. "A warning though, she's probably going to throw something at you. She's not used to new people in her labrary."

"Her what?"

"Labrary. It's a portmanteau of lab and library. You'll see soon." Spike opened the doors to a large, two-story room.

The smell of aged paper and leather permeated the air, aided by the dozens of shelves of books, tomes, and scrolls along the walls of the expansive library. A few tables around the room were filled with chemistry equipment rather than books, some of them even had liquid in them. A large window took up the entirety of the far wall above him, an outcropped floor being the centerpiece of the room. A wide staircase winded up the wall, and at the very top, Tyrian glimpsed a small purple clawed foot lift above the ceiling.

'Little bastard moves fast.' Tyrian picked up his pace and climbed the stairs. As he scaled the steps up, he saw numerous books levitating with a purple glow around them, and a few steps later, he saw his ward. Black hair with a purple streak flowing down her back. She wore a black vest with a lilac undershirt, a necklace of a purple star around her neck. A deep purple skirt fluttered as she moved to a different bookcase, a few books being engulfed by her magic and being collected, making the number in the air almost a dozen, an impressive number for most magi.

"Spike, where did you go? I need you to help me find a book, Predictions and Prophecies, I think it'll tell me what I need to know about the Elements of Harmony, mainly what they are." Twilight requested before turning to look at him.

Her eyes locked on the man behind her assistant, her mind switching in an instant to panic mode. She let out a small scream as she threw all of the books in her magical grasp at his head.

Tyrian, for all his faults, was good at a few things, and one of them was taking a hit.

Unfortunately, ten hits in a row were a bit too much. The sound of fluttering pages and the sound of a dragon yelling was all he heard before his head hit the ground, the inky black darkness of unconsciousness enveloping his mind.

All in all, Tyrian was having a pretty shit day.

Author's Note

Been a while, hasn't it?

Sorry about that. Shit happens, ya know?

A Discovery and a Recollection

“Twilight! What did you do!?” Spike yelled as he ran to the fallen mercenary, books and loose papers littering the ground around him.

“Oh Faust, I’m so sorry!” Twilight scrambled to the man on the ground. “I thought he was a robber!”

“No, he was like our escort or something!” Spike started lightly slapping the man’s face, to no avail

“How was I supposed to know!?” Twilight waved her hands in the air in exasperation. “I just saw some guy behind you and panicked!”

“I hope you didn’t give him a concussion.” As Spike worried about his health, Tyrian was already regaining consciousness, and with consciousness came pain. Stabbing pain, right above his left eye, where an edge of a hefty tome had made its mark.

“Ohhh, why didn’t I just die?” He groaned as he writhed in agony. It wasn’t the worst pain he had felt, not by a long shot, but one tends to forget things like that, especially Tyrian.

“Well, he’s talking, so that’s good.” Spike sighed in relief.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t know who you were and I’ve really stressed and I’m sorry!” Twilight tried to explain as he woke, holding his head with his right hand.

“What did I do to deserve this?” Tyrian rolled a little on the ground until he stopped to think a bit. “...Oh, yeah, a lot of things” He said under his short breaths.

“Conscious and full sentences, doing good for getting knocked out.” Spike laughed a little at the pain the mercenary was experiencing, remembering the fiasco with his canteen a few minutes ago.

“You attack everybody new, or do I have a face that makes people want to hit me?” Tyrian winced, his own movement exacerbating the already tear-inducing pain.

“Hey, you don’t get to talk about attacking new people.” Spike said with crossed arms.

“Hey, I apologized!” Tyrian mumbled as he sat up. “...Wait, did I? I thought I did. Maybe I didn’t.” Tyrian’s musings were interrupted by a panicked Twilight.

“How do you feel? Any nausea, fatigue, or delirium? I’m assuming delirium, considering.” Twilight conjured a small ball of light on the tip of her finger. “Follow this light as best as you can.” With a grunt, Tyrian pushed her hand away and tried to stand up.

“I don’t have a concussion for Faust’s sake, it just hurts.” Tyrian said, slightly concussed. “And chill the hell out, you’re hyperventilating.”

Twilight felt her chest rising and falling in an erratic way, her breath shallow, making her dizzy. Focusing her mind, she forced herself to take slow and deep breaths, just as her mother had taught her. Somewhat gathered but breathing steady, she stood up alongside the now stretching man.

“What are you doing here anyway?” Twilight asked as she brushed some dust off her skirt. “You don’t look like one a Solar Guard.” She gestured to his slightly tattered apparel.

Tyrian flexed his arm in discomfort, shaking out the pain from a lone book that had dug into his shoulder. “I’m your bodyguard, your Princess hired me to make sure nothing happens to you while you’re out of the castle.” The scruffy mercenary said.

“Bodyguard? Why would I need a bodyguard when Princess Celestia has guards by the hundreds?” Twilight raised an eyebrow.

“Now that is a question you should ask her, ‘cause I’m still trying to figure that out.” Tyrian touched the spot where most of the books hit him, wincing at the touch.

“Are you sure you don’t need a, like, ice pack or something?” Spike questioned.

“No, I’m fine. We need to go, anyway, our train will be here soon.” Tyrian began to walk, albeit with a slight stagger, to the stairs leading down, expecting footsteps following him.

“No.” Twilight said firmly.

Tyrian stopped dead in his tracks, his hand still on his head as he turned to the student. She stood still, rooted in her spot, albeit with a glance away now and then.

“What?” Tyrian felt a twinge of anger rise in him.

“No, I have something to research right now and it can’t wait.” Twilight shifted uncomfortably under the gaze of the increasingly frustrated man.

“Research? What is more important than listening to your Princess? She said to leave at four o’ clock and it’s three-thirty, we’ll probably not even make at this rate.” Tyrian shifted his gauntlet back, allowing him to show her the watch on his wrist, not noticing it had broken some time ago.

“This takes priority, I’m sorry. It’s about the Elements of Harmony. A set of magical artifacts that were said to be Equestria’s greatest defense. But I keep getting just bits and pieces of what they were.” Twilight explained, much to the confusion of Tyrian.

“Why would Celestia’s student want to learn about some old weapon that probably didn’t even exist?” Tyrian said, the pain in head fading quickly. The question lit a spark in the eyes of the young woman.

“Celestia’s student can learn about whatever she wants, thank you very much.” Twilight glared.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry.” Tyrian sighed as he tried to rein in his sass, not wanting to make his job any more difficult than it needed to be. The paper-thin apology did not sate Twilight, but she let it go with a sigh, her reason far more powerful than her spite.

“Anyway, I wanted to learn about the Elements after I read an old story about two rulers, one of the light and one of the night, obviously a summarized retelling of the Nightmare Conflict, a war that happened a thousand years ago.” Twilight explained. “Once I started digging into it more, I found idealized versions as well as fairly melancholy ones, but every time, the Elements of Harmony are always a part of it, and yet, all the information I can find about said Elements are in ancient tomes in dead tongues or half eroded paintings.” Her hand movements became increasingly erratic, and her body seemed to vibrate with excitement.

“So?” Tyrian shrugged. “They were probably just propaganda Celestia made during and after the conflict to keep morale up. An ultimate weapon tends to do that, you know.”

“You see, that’s what I thought at first! But then I realized, if they were real, and if they were used during the conflict, there would be military reports! So, with some convincing, I got into the Solar Guard’s ancient documents, sealed off from the normal populace, and I hit a gold-mine. Some of the things I’ve read even suggested they were the things that stopped it in the first place!” Twilight went over to her desk at the end of the room, dozens of loose papers were thrown into the air as she looked for the one document she needed. Tyrian was beginning to worry about the sheer excess of loose papers that were in this otherwise pristine library.

Spike, who apparently had left during Twilight’s lecture to get a snack, walked up chewing on an emerald as he watched his adoptive sister get into her classic ‘Professor Twilight’ mode. Tyrian was amused at the sight of the manic researcher, who had seemingly forgotten they were there.

“Is she always like this?” Tyrian said in a hushed voice.

“Sometimes, but only if she’s really into what she’s talking about. You better get comfortable, seeing as you’ll be standing for a while.” Spike said picking a stray piece of jewel lodged in his sharp teeth.

“A-HA, found it!” Twilight raised a book into the air triumphantly. With a wave of a hand, a spare table was pulled into the middle of the room, various papers and miscellaneous wrapped scrolls littered its surface. Stepping up to said table, Tyrian grabbed an important looking document, only to put it back down when he saw it was just detailing the eating habits of manticores.

Twilight’s hand glowed ever brighter as numerous papers and manuscripts floated upward, and, at a glance, all shared a familiar symbol, one that anyone with a shred of knowledge of Equestria’s history would know.

A crescent moon, the regalia of the Nightmare.

Twilight glanced up from her manic reading of the book of Prophesies to see the look in the mercenaries’ eyes, a look of curiosity she knew all too well. Tyrian reached for the one page that caught his attention the most, grasping the aged parchment through the shimmering purple field. His eyes began skimming the information laid out in front of him, focusing on the most worrying part, the fact that the Nightmare Conflict had been prolonged long after the actual fall of the Nightmare due to the existence of a group of powerful individuals, a Cult, in service of the Nightmare itself. Near the end of the page spoke of their motivations, and how there was none. Only the loyalty to their patron was known, everything else was up in the air.

“Children of the Moon, huh? What is with cults always being ‘the children’ of whoever or whatever they believe in, anyway?”

“A fair question, but there’s something far more important about these papers.” Twilight spoke ominously

“What would that be?” Tyrian laid the paper down slowly.

Twilight held up the book she had retrieved earlier, one of prophecies and predictions, with one chapter singled out.

Nightmare Moon’s return is said to be a thousand years after her imprisonment, or, more specifically, tomorrow.

“Oh shit, seriously? Tomorrow?” Tyrian recoiled slightly at the new information.

“Yes, the Summer Sun Celebration is the day it’s supposed to return, and I doubt it’s a coincidence.” Twilight placed the book down and brought up a large canvas bag with what seemed to be her emblem on its side, though this one had a silver shield behind it.

“Spike, you got the bags packed?” She spoke as she packed the various papers and the large tome into the canvas bag.

Spike took one last chomp of his emerald and nodded as he chewed.

“Good, bring Tyrian and have him help carry them. I’ll get the bags you guys don’t.” Twilight latched the bag closed and wrapped it around it her back, it hanging from a strap across he chest.

“Woah, I didn’t agree to bag carrying duty.” Tyrian raised his hands in mock surprise.

“Yeah? What contract did you sign? Twenty-five-C? Because if so, you did agree to bag carrying duty, specifically subsection nine-two.” Spike spoke dryly as he went a side room to their left, grabbing two large wheeled suitcases, both with green stripes along its sides.

“Wha-...How did you-...Fuck.” Tyrian slumped his shoulders in defeat and went to lug some of the stacked purple striped cases in the back

Pulling them out with a bit of effort, Tyrian grunted as Twilight slid in front of him.

“I’ll take the top one if you want.” Twilight pointed to the case awkwardly positioned on top of two others, almost identical in design.

“Oh, uh, sure.” Tyrian grabbed the top suitcase and brought it up, positioning it so the wheels could roll. He handed the grip to the smaller girl, who grasped it with her skinny hands, which Tyrian had just noticed were adorned with three bead bracelets, all with different color schemes, the forefront being white and purple, with the same emblem from her bag. The others were a deep blue and a lighter shade and the other a very light grey with a few lilac and white beads complementing it. Tyrian had guessed these were family, considering the similarity of the symbols they used, two sharing the design of a magenta star. For some reason he could not understand, the sight of the bracelet and his subsequent analysis had stunned him, his stupor not going unnoticed. Twilight pulled the case from Tyrian’s hand, and with a slightly concerned smile, turned to the stairs down, where Spike was struggling slightly with the incline and his stubby arms.

Tyrian shook his head, clearing his mind of the fog clouding it. Out of some compulsion, placed his hand on his neck, where an absent weight had made itself known for the first time in a very long time, causing some unsavory memories to try and surface.

Tyrian forced them back down, back into the void they had come from, and where he needed them to be.

“You coming?” Tyrian’s head snapped up, seeing the waiting forms of both Twilight and Spike at the top of the stairs.

“Yeah, thanks for waiting.” Tyrian brushed off the thoughts and followed his new wards down and out, the trio heading out to their ride out of Canterlot, with a bit of haste occupying their movements as they heard the sound of the train horn in the distance.

~ ~ ~

Celestia sat in her study, occupying her mind with the menial tasks she had as the monarch of Equestria. Many requests of loans from the Royal Treasury that had to be redirected to the banks, a few letters from desperate nobles hoping to become suitors that had to be burnt, and a few actual ones that demanded her attention. One was a treaty for the Griffon Kingdoms to begin a unification process for the shattered nation of Equestria’s once great ally, a plea for an end of the war between the two splinters, now that the fighting had finally died down.

A diplomatic visit would be the best choice, a summit in neutral ground, likely in Equestria itself. Celestia turned her head, taking in the beautiful night.

Celestia sighed, letting her tense shoulders relax in what had seemed like days. This, on top of her sister’s return, had Celestia in a tailspin. The planning had taken decades to fall into place, her foresight being an immense boon to her efforts to bring her back. Celestia smiled as she thought of her sister, her face hard to recall in its entirety. Celestia felt a twinge of despair invade her mind, but it was washed away by anticipation.

‘It will be nice to see you again, dear sister. Oh, how you swatted at me when I called you by your childhood name.”

Celestia’s smile grew wider as she imagined her and Luna, sitting side-by-side in their throne room, sitting down for lunch and speaking of their desires and secrets, a day they crashed some nobles party just for the looks on their faces.

The strongest memory she had, the one she held onto the most was the day of their rise as the diarch’s they were destined to be, and how proud Luna was that day. Her smile had been the brightest she had ever seen as she waved to their people, relishing in the love and joy permeating the air around them. She had been the one who held Celestia up in the times of anger, madness, and hate that had plagued their lives since the day they ascended. She had been the one to reassure Celestia that they were destined to be the heroes that the world needed, that they were to win. On that day, all of those hopes and dreams Luna had carried for the both of them had come true. For the millennia to come after, she knew Luna would be the one to carry that hope, and that she would be alongside her.

‘Lulu, my best friend, how I miss those days. When we were one and the same, two sides of the same coin. When we were invincible.’ Celestia felt the pain of her memories overtake the laughter in her thoughts, a tidal wave of anguish flooding her dreams and recollections. Her face dropped and tears began to form.

“When you were Luna.” The tears fell freely, as they had countless times before.

‘How will I face you after all, I have done? Am I even deserving of such a thing?’ Celestia felt her body shiver as she remembered the Nightmare her sister had become. The serpent eyes, the pale skin, and the void that had replaced the light in her, drinking in all that shone brightly around her. Her sword from that day had been put on a mantle, one that Celestia had visited every year, a reminder of what she had done. Of what Celestia had done.

She didn’t even know if she could use them alone, Luna had always been so Loyal, and Honest, and those ones always responded to her touch, while Celestia found her self drawn to Kindness and Generosity. Magic and Laughter had always been both theirs, constantly rotating between them, never choosing a favorite, never picking a sibling as their true vessel.

But as soon as she touched Magic, she could feel them all respond in tandem with her own magic. In her panic and pain, she could only say what came to her dazed mind.

She wanted it all to stop, and the Elements made it so. Luna, Nightmare Moon, was gone, placed into her responsibility as the Lunar Princess as an apparent form of irony, her visage carved into the celestial entity.

She had become the legend all mothers and fathers told to their scared children, in reassurance that should they not be around at night, the Woman in Silver Rays, her sister, would always be watching over them, protecting them as she would before her change.

Celestia had spent many years planting the idea of Luna being a protector of her people, not the destroyer she had become, in perhaps a desperate bid to absolve her of the guilt of imprisoning her.

It did not work.

Every moonlit night, Celestia cried at the sight of the only family she had ever known, so far away.

Celestia felt tired, her body exhausted from the grief, as she raised her head from her damp desk.

‘I promised to get you back, to save you. I know it isn’t you who vowed to black out our sun with our moon.’ Celestia rose from her chair, shuffling over to her bed, falling in lethargy onto the extremely comfortable bed, but not feeling the softness, only the emptiness in her world.

‘When you wake up tomorrow, it will be time. You have to do this, or it will all fall apart.’ Celestia steeled herself before the pull of sleep took her, dreading the silence of her empty dreams.

Her eyes drifted to the moon and the silhouette of the woman in it.

“Goodnight, Luna.” Celestia said quietly as her eyes fell.

Unbeknownst to her resting form, the moon shimmered like water, and when it stopped, the visage of her sister was gone.

The Nightmare had woken up, and it laughed.

Author's Note

Holy crap, that was a long chapter.

It felt good, though. I think I'm going to try and make them as long or longer as this one from now on. I don't know, it feels right somehow.

Also, I found out coffee is really good.

I may have made a terrible mistake.

Contact

Tyrian woke to the aroma of bacon and eggs, he rose from his bed with an easy smile and a pleasantly relaxed body. He pushed off the bed, grabbed his nightgown from the rack next to his bed, and walked slowly to his bathroom. The morning sun shone gently through his curtains, giving just enough light to his surroundings to see, a light amber tint over his messy room. A few books laid on his desk in the corner of the room, the paper he was writing about the history of the Nightmare Conflict rested amid the strew about pages. He smiled, eager to return to his studies and learn as much as he could, but his breath persuaded him to keep walking to the dark bathroom. Tyrian grabbed the matchbook laying just inside the polished stone restroom, struck a match, and lit the numerous lamps hanging from the walls, his drowsiness being scared away by the freezing stone. He needs to remind his father to tell the few servants that stayed up to keep the fireplaces fueled, he was tired of the icy chill in the stone-clad areas of the estate.

Tyrian stood in front of the large mirror, staring into his own amber eyes, chuckling at his bed head. He smoothed it down, trying to get it to it's normal neat and tidy part, but for some reason, he stopped after a few brushes. The somewhat messy hair he had looked pretty good on him, swept back with a few thick strands hanging down gave him the look of some of the heroes from his old storybooks. If only his beard had grown in, he'd look just like his great-grandfather, just like his dad said he did normally, even though his mother never agreed.

A quick bath and a minty breath later, Tyrian put on his slippers and headed through his bedroom door, entering the hallway right above the kitchen. The carpeted floor and purple cloth draped wall retained some of the heat of the manor, but not much. He ignored the slight chill in the air and found the steps down into the kitchen, the scent growing ever stronger, now smelling strongly of coffee. The sun outside had fully cleared the horizon, filling the kitchen in a golden light, his mother and father cooking in the gilded room. His mother stood at the counter, flipping a dozen eggs in two pans with expertise, while Tyrian's father was making toast, his hand igniting in flame for a few seconds for each slice.

"Honey, you know Iris hates the taste of magic on her toast, use the oven." His mother, Obsidia, the matriarch of the Shadegale Manor, reminded her husband.

"But you know Dahlia loves it, and you know I can't play favorites dear." Aster, his father, and teacher, smugly said as he put the singed toast onto the plates and handed them to his smirking wife.

"Don't get cute, dear, you'll never win against me in that department." She said with puckered lips, going in for a smooch.

"AH, none of that, please, I'll lose my appetite." Tyrian announced as he took his seat at the dinner table.

"Oh, my baby boy getting embarrassed by his parents, some things never change." Obsidia wrapped her arms around Tyrian's neck from behind, assaulting his cheek with small kisses.

"Ew! Mom, stop!" Tyrian flailed weakly, no match for his mother's maternal onslaught.

"Enough, dear, you'll turn the boy crimson." Aster chuckled as he took his own seat. The yelping of the teenager masked the approach of already quiet footsteps from the stairs. Iris, the eldest, yawn and stretched as she stepped down from the stairs, her purple nightgown flowing loosely around her legs. Her pajamas, which consisted of a shirt two times her size and soft blue pajama bottoms.

"Morning sis." Tyrian said as his mother backed off mercifully, his hair knocked out of place from his mother's hug, obscuring his vision.

"Morning twerp." The eldest mumbled as she took her seat. "We on for sparring after breakfast?"

"I'm still sore from yesterday, Iris, can't we take a break?" Tyrian whined.

"No rest for the Shadegales, son. Man up and get beaten by your sister." Aster said as he sipped his coffee. He took a newspaper from the counter and shook it open as he leaned on the marble counter.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence Dad, your love and support mean everything to me." Tyrian said dryly.

"He's right though, you get your ass handed to you nine time out of ten, bucko." Iris leaned back on her chair with a shit-eating grin.

"Nine times out of ten, eh? You must be getting sloppy in your old age, sis." Tyrian smirked.

"I'm only two years older than you dumbass, age has nothing to do with it."

"Language, Iris. Don't be using that kind of language in front of Dahlia." Obsidia scolded as she laid plates filled with food in front of her children. "Cursing's a bad habit, and I don't want you two getting that in her head."

"She's fourteen, she'll learn it either from us or her friends anyway." Tyrian scoffed.

"Still, I want to keep her innocent for as long as possible, unlike you two, cussing like sailors since birth." Obsidia shook her head in mock disappointment.

"We all know where we got it from, Mom." Both Tyrian and Iris shot a sideways glance at their father.

Feeling eyes on him, Aster raised his eyes from his paper. "What? What's going on?" Aster looked to his wife for assistance from his wife, only to see her smile and put her head in her hands.

The table had a good laugh at the patriarch's expense until they heard a door creak behind Tyrian, who turned to see, leaning over his own chair. He prepared a smile to whoever opened it, his eyes shining. Strangely, the door had opened to an empty, unlit corridor, dark but not impossible to see through. His smile was replaced with an unsure grin as he turned to his family.

"Uhhh...creepy." Iris shivered a bit at the sight.

"Tyrian, dear, could you check that out? Dahlia might be playing a prank again." His mother said, her concerned eyes not leaving the doorway. Aster stood up and rolled up his newspaper, walking over to his daughter and put his hand on her shoulder reassuringly.

"Uh, yeah, sure." Tyrian sat up and pushed his chair in. He took a couple of careful steps toward the corridor, the chill in the air coming from the door cutting into him. With a hand on the doorway, he took a peek in the dim hall, spotting a small shadow around the corner down the way. He could have sworn he had heard a giggle in the distance, adding to the discomfort as he took his first step into the room.

A thud elicited a small shriek from the teenager as the door behind him slammed closed on his back. Panic began to fill him as he turned and grabbed the silver door nob, twisting it in vain to force it open, the door handle barely budging. He began pounding on the door in desperation as he shot a quick glance down the hall behind him, the shadows somehow darker than they were before.

"Guys, open up! This isn't funny! Please!" Tyrian cried into the wooden door. No voices responded to him as he put his ear to the wood, only the light sound of a crackling fire.

Tyrian turned back around, his spine pushed against the cold door. The hall looked even less inviting than before, the shadows almost overtaking what little light shone through the dark curtains. Caution and fear shrouded his mind as he skulked down the cold stone hall, near the corner where the shadow had been. He poked his head around the corner and saw his little sister, Dahlia, standing in the hallway, whispering to herself.

"Dahlia? Is that you?" Tyrian quietly called to the girl. "Why are you whispering?"

As if in response, his sister quieted and now stood there, motionless aside from a slight sway, her raven hair flowing with her. Tyrian took a step towards her, then another, and one more until he was right behind her. He crouched down to her height and put a shivering hand on her shoulder. Steeling himself with a gulp, he spun her around, coming face to face with her.

"BOO!"

Tyrian screamed and fell backward, scrambling away in fear. His sister began giggling uncontrollably at his reaction, her hand coming to her mouth to try and stifle her fit. She was still wearing her pajamas, which were both bright red pajama bottoms and top, some of the fuzz falling to the floor with her raucous laughter.

"Gods Dahlia, you scared the hel-heck outta me!" Tyrian caught himself.

"I got you good! You have the best 'Ahhh!' face ever!" Dahlia said between giggles.

Tyrian picked himself up with labored breaths, his heart hammering in his chest. Sighing in defeat, he chuckled at the sight of his little sister laughing at his expense.

"Yeah, you got me good, especially with that whispering you were doing. And let me guess, Iris was in on it too, closing the door and everything."

"No, no, it was only me and the man in the wall." She laughed at the thought of her sister locking the door behind Tyrian.

Tyrian's laughter stopped short, fear rising in his stomach. He looked at his sister in concern, it only grew as she kept laughing without acknowledging what she said.

"The what, Dahlia?" Tyrian swallowed with a dry mouth. Dahlia's laughter died down slowly as she looked up to her big brother with a small smile.

"The man in the wall, silly! Can't you see him, he's taller than you!" Dahlia thumbed behind her, into the darkness.

"Taller than m-" Tyrian cut himself off as his eyes trailed upward, toward the ceiling far above them.

Two blazing white orbs shone in the void, the room stretching impossibly upward to hold the dark skeletal figure stretching down the hall, lanky arms hung in the air, outstretched around him and Dahlia. Tyrian's mouth hung open, his breath shallow, legs heavy with terror. It's gaunt frame hanging over them, hollow eyes dripped darkness down onto the ground beneath it, melting into the stone. He looked back down to his sister, ready to grab her and run away from the monster. He went for her arm, only for his to be grabbed instead by a tendril rising from a pool of darkness, it wrapped around his arm and burned into his skin. Crying out in pain, he tried to pull himself away, his tugging ripping the sleeve and skin under the tendril's acidic grip. With one desperate tug, he felt his skin give, blood poured out from his torn sleeve, flesh hung from his limp arm as he fell back once again.

Tyrian's vision darkened as pain rocked his body, his arm numb as it grew ever redder. In anguish, he looked to Dahlia, the void behind her encroaching quickly. Desperate, he tried to get up and run to her, only to trip over more of the black pools, his slipper melting on contact. He looked up at his sister's eyes. Only to be met with the same white suns where her eyes should have been. Darkness poured from them, engulfing the small frame of his little sister.

Tyrian didn't know how he got back to his feet, or when he started sprinting back down the hallway, all he knew and felt was his good shoulder ramming into the wooden door, it gave under his momentum and weight. Wood splinters showered into the room, covering the decayed stone beneath him. The once friendly and warm kitchen had somehow been replaced with a cold, grey, rundown and open room. Two thrones lay on the far part of the moonlit room, the light cascading through the collapsed ceiling above.

Before he could process this impossibility, a surge of pain shot through his arm, taking the air from his lungs and bringing him to his knees. In desperation, the terrified man looked to the sky and witnessed the moon rise above the broken walls, it dripped with darkness which seeped into the sky, trailing corruption as it quickly rose above him. A roar, deep and horrible, shook his being, his very soul, and as he clutched his cracking skull, he could feel blood dripping from his eyes. The cracked walls began to crumble, the pieces falling towards the emptiness above him, vanishing into the void. The shadows around him melted, creating a pool of black water which quickly submerged his lower torso, it's freezing grip sunk into his flesh, blackening his skin.

The sound began to shift and twist, Tyrian feeling every alteration, each one causing agony to course through him until it became a voice. A voice as deep and impenetrable as the sky and shadows around him, one of pure malice and hate spoke to him and uttered its one, incomprehensible word.

"Vessel."

The moon rushed towards him at impossible speed, the laughter of the Nightmare cutting through the darkness.

~ ~ ~ ~

Tyrian woke to his scream, drenched in sweat, his body reflexively drawing his shoulder knife.

Twilight and Spike yelled in confusion, Twilight bringing her book to her face in defense. Spike had covered his eyes in terror, he also had just awoken from a rather pleasant dream about a kitchen filled to the brim with gemstones. Tyrian breathed heavily, his trained eyes scanning his surroundings for threats. The cabin that had been given to them at the request of Celestia was elegant but only slightly bigger than most, the walls lined with metal and brown wood. Tyrian had called one of the two in the cabin when he felt drowsiness take over on the day-long train ride. Snapping his head to the window to their right, he saw it was indeed morning, the orange sun barely peaking above the horizon, a breakfast tray on the table between he and Twilight, the coffee in her cup still steaming.

Twilight was the first to speak, lowering the book enough to see the shaking bodyguard.

"Bad dream?" She quietly asked. He looked at her, earning another flinch from the bookworm. Letting his tensed and stressed muscles relaxed, his mind caught up to his body well enough to calm down. Tyrian glanced to his dagger in his hand in confusion and sheathed it carefully.

"I...I guess." Tyrian's voice was still hoarse and groggy from his restless slumber. "I didn't understand any of it." He shrugged lightly, fatigue still fading.

"Jeez, dude. You about gave me a heart attack." Spike righted himself from his fetal position and laid his hands on his lap. "You alright?"

Tyrian brought his feet off the dark green seat and onto the carpeted floor and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. The image of the moon growing in size and shrouding all that is was stuck in his mind, the only real piece of it he could recall.

"Yeah, I think I'm good." He rubbed the back of his neck, soothing his stiff neck. Tyrian had asked for a pillow before he had gone to sleep, but his request had gone unheard, and he had made do with his old satchel. "Just a bit, uh, concerned. I've never had a dream like that."

"What, like, too real or something?" Spike shifted up, straightening out his back.

Tyrian shook his head. "Nah, more like..." Tyrian thought for a second. "...personal, if that makes any sense. I can't really remember specifics."

"Well, dreams have been shown to personify real-world struggles or concerns that you have. Maybe you're just working things out?" Twilight suggested, bringing her coffee cup from the tray for another sip.

"Yeah, maybe." Tyrian shrugged. "Or, ya know, I'm just crazy." He grinned. Twilight chuckled at that, returning to her book about the history of the Summer Sun Festival, wanting to get the background on the event she was basically managing and see if there were any specific traditions in Ponyville that she needed to be aware of.

"I'm gonna go get breakfast, what do you guy's want?" Tyrian stood and popped his shoulder, sighing at the relaxation it brought. He went for Oathkeeper, which was still leaning in the nook of the door to the rest of the train's hallway, but pulled back, resisting habit.

"Get me some pancakes, please!" Spike hopped down to the floor, reached up to the tray on the table, and poured his own cup of coffee.

"Just a bagel for me, thank you. Bring back some sugar too, this coffee is too bitter for my taste." Twilight said, keeping most of her focus on her book.

"Pancakes and a bagel, got it. Be back soon." Tyrian opened the sliding wooden door, the frosted glass moving away to a fairly tight hallway. The landscape outside came into vision, rolling grass fields and hills flowed over the land all the way to the quickly brightening sky.

Tyrian walked down the train car, his eyes never parting from the natural beauty outside the glass and steel. He was glad that after all he's seen, all he's done, he could still find things like this beautiful, peaceful even. Most who did what he did, like his old buddy Swifty, may he burn in Tartarus, would probably say he was, quote, 'A bloody romantic' and shove or shiv him. Tyrian smiled as he remembered the look on his face when he broke his hands, Swift's fingers a mangled bundle of torn and bloody digits. The only problem he had with that situation was the fact he couldn't remember what exactly happened after that, only the massacred corpses of various assassins and mercenaries spread around him, some of them a bit burnt here and there. Pretty sure he killed a few magi in that bunch, as he did remember a lot of fire in some of the pieces he could dredge up from his terrible memory.

Opening the train car door, he stepped over the connector of the food car to the residence car, and proceed to enter the room, an appetizing smell hitting him like a delicious brick of syrup and cooked meat. Many of the travelers from the residence car were sitting at small tables, idly chatting about the weather and the Festival, all while dining on bacon and waffles. A few nobles had gathered near each other, all obviously drawn in by the air of superiority they gave off, a handful of them deeming some of the commoners worthy of conversation. Tyrian scoffed at them, refocusing his attention on the food on the right wall waiting for him. He picked a large steel platter and grabbed a few plates, placing them in the order of which the group sat, and began getting their requests from the buffet. Two pancakes for Spike, as well as a dollop of whipped cream as a little treat for not getting on his nerves the whole trip, a bagel and some butter for Twilight, along with her side request for some sugar.

'And now, my favorite part.' Tyrian was almost salivating over the bacon, it being the perfect amount of crispy and tender, and the eggs being sunny side up, sprinkled with pepper to add that smoky flavor.

Getting his food, Tyrian turned back to the door to the residence car, only to stop short as he saw a group of men in the corner next to the door. Three haggard-looking men sat together, not eating and not talking, all looking exceptionally constipated, the mountain of a man in the middle especially. But Tyrian didn't care about their faces, no, he was more concerned about their equipment. Tyrian knew what hidden weapons looked like when concealed, an odd crease here, a small bulge there, all pointed to the signs of holdout daggers, three on the bearded one on the right and one big one on the giant. The one to the left, the scrawniest out of them all, had a large briefcase at his feet, which was still being held onto by one of his loose hands. Tyrian saw something on the big man's neck sparkle in the sunlight that had just begun directly hitting the train, just barely visible beneath the muscle and cloth, a crescent moon made itself known.

The bearded man met Tyrian's lingering eyes, his squinted eyes telling him he had been staring for too long. Tyrian scolded himself and went to open the door out, only to be stopped by the scrawny one's lithe hand.

"A little help there, buddy?" He said as he went to open the train car door for him, his eyes never breaking with Tyrian's. A stray strand of his hair fell out of place, his hair long on the top but trimmed short on the sides. A quick glance to the others said what he knew already; they knew him and now he knew them.

"Yeah, thanks." Tyrian said carefully, slightly sidestepping to gain that precious distance from him, and passed through the now ajar door. As quickly as he could, he made his way through the second door and down the hall, the plates colliding with each other as he walked as fast as he could to Twilight and Spike.

As quickly as he could, he made his way through the second door and down the hall, the plates colliding with each other as he practically ran back to his cabin. He hastily forced the door open before Spike could open it for him, Spike being shoved away as the frantic bodyguard put down the tray and grabbed his sword.

"Woah, slow down, man. What, is a manticore chasing you?" Spike scoffed. Tyrian didn't register the sarcastic comment from the baby dragon, he was too busy tossing the plates of food off the metal tray.

"Hey, HEY! What are you doing!?" Twilight yelled in between getting pelted by greasy bacon and her bagel. Tyrian grabbed the tray's handle and flipped it length-ways, covering most of his left arm. Unsheathing Oathkeeper, he turned to the door and brought the makeshift shield.

"Tyrian! What's wrong?!" Twilight, now feeling an icy chill beginning to build in her chest, saw the focused mercenary gesture to his satchel laying on the cushion next to him.

"Dagger in the bag, get it." He spoke shortly, not drawing his eyes from the frosted glass as heavy footsteps drew closer to them. Not wasting time, Twilight jumped to the lonesome satchel and began rummaging around until she found a wrapped blade at the very bottom, it's intricately decorated grip betrayed by its apparent abandonment. Tyrian pulled up his tattered scarf above his nose, obscuring his face with it.

"Spike, get behind Twilight." The footfalls now were right outside the door, a large shadow now loomed in front of the frosted glass. Tyrian heard the wood creak as an immense hand opened the sliding door, the large man from the dining cart had to lean down to see into the cabin. His prying bought him a sliver tray being slammed into his jaw, sending his massive frame into the glass behind him, which shattered instantly, and dented the metal.

His attempt to recoup from the blow was met with another strike from Tyrian, only this time being it a sharp point piercing his stomach. Tyrian put his boot on the giant's face, ripping his sword from the man's torso with a wet shlick, and turned his attention to the charging bearded man with two daggers in hand. Tyrian brought up his impromptu shield to meet the man's blades, both puncturing the flimsy metal, one also puncturing Tyrian's forearm, earning a pained grunt from the mercenary. Yanking back with the knives still embedded, Tyrian pulled the man's arms open and forced his sword into the man's exposed armpit. With a twist of his blade and kick, the bearded man fell onto the quickly reddening carpet, his still dying body twitching as his life was quickly drained away by his own heartbeat. Tyrian almost dropped the tray as he ripped the silver dagger from his arm, his blood soaking into his gauntlets, his hand quickly becoming slick and harder to keep up.

An arrow sprouted from Tyrian's right shoulder, his armor doing its job and stopping it from going all the way through, it became stuck in the thick leather and a thin metal plate. The force transfer made him recoil to the right and using the momentum, he brought the metal tray back up as he saw the one who nailed him. The scrawny man stood with another arrow already locked into place, his opened briefcase laying at his feet with three shapes cut into the cases' bottom, and a number of clothing articles strewn about. Scrawny let loose an arrow, it ricocheting off the slanted metal and lodging itself above the door frame to Tyrian's left. He charged the archer, covering a short distance before the man had nocked another arrow, this one actually piercing tray, but Tyrian had already closed too much distance before he could reach for yet another.

Tyrian uppercutted the archer with the metal tray, sending him stumbling stunned backward into a wall, dropping his bow. Shaking his head, he began to push off the wall with his pasty white hands, only to be stopped by a worn blade stabbing into his palm, securing him to the wooden wall with excruciating pain. Trying and failing to desperately pull himself away, he looked up to meet the unforgiving eyes of Tyrian Shadegale, who, at this point, was pissed.

"There anymore of you douche-bags?" Tyrian, flexed his injured hand, and with a grunt, snapped the arrow shaft lodged in his shoulder. Tyrian took out his shoulder dagger and brought it to the cultist's eye, the shining point making him grow cross-eyed. The archer laughed, causing a few drips of blood to fall out of his mouth, his crooked teeth tinted red.

"Just one, and he don't go down easy." Tyrian's eyes widened, spinning around to meet a black furred fist barreling toward his face.

Tyrian felt his feet lift from the ground, his nose breaking, and the wood wall behind him caving in, all in a couple seconds. For a small moment, Tyrian felt the cool summer morning air hit him before he collided with another wood wall, luckily avoiding the metal reinforcements dotting the train. He bounced a few times before rolling to a halt in the middle of the dining car, dozens of screams and yells were drowned out by the hammering in Tyrian's ears, his neck feeling as if it had been stretched past its limit, his face felt wet and numb.

He groaned as he tried to push himself up with his elbows from his prone position, craning his whip-lashed neck up to see what the hell happened in those now lost seconds.

A large furry frame forced its way through the door two sizes too small, a horn and it's broken counter-part being twisted through the entrance.

Tyrian gulped as the minotaur rose to its full height, his one horn scrapping the metal ceiling of the train car. The scarred minotaur put it's enormous fists together, cracking his knuckles with a terrifying volume.

Tyrian picked up his battered body and snapped his profusely bleeding nose back into place with a pop.

"All right, big guy, let's see if that horn'll fit in your-" Tyrian's quip was cut off by another fist to his poor face.

"FUCK, OW, I WAS GOING TO SAY NOSE!" Tyrian held his face, his poor, poor face.

"All right that's it, no more mister nice guyyaaHHHH" The minotaur charged the smaller man, picking him up and ramming through the other side of the dining car.

Author's Note

All aboard the pain train!

Next stop, crippling injuries!

Tenacity

Azure Haze laughed as the bodyguard got his ass knocked through the wall above him, the splinters raining down doing nothing to quell his mirth. Their trump card, a minotaur they hired on the border to the Badlands, huffed in satisfaction. Azure thought he heard him say his name was Stone Striker earlier, but he didn't really care about who he was, only what he could do, and by the gods, he could do a lot judging from the hole in the wall.

As the brute walked through the door to Azure's left he got a good look at his compatriots, Boulder and Havoc Wind laid motionless in the pool of blood that had coalesced from both their cooling bodies. Azure felt a bit sad over their demise, but they knew what they were getting into and were still willing to sacrifice themselves for the Lunar Queen. Boulder had been the most devout out the trio, always praying at nightfall for hours on end, while he and Havoc only followed the doctrine laid down after the Queen's fall, the secrecy and subterfuge a part of their lives since they could walk.

Azure heard some talking after the civilian's screaming faded in the next car over, the royal students bodyguard seemingly trying to talk down the bull, only to be followed by more screaming and the shattering of yet more wood. Seems it was going about as well as he expected to.

"That's for my hand, asshole," Azure grabbed the hilt of the sword embedded into said hand and the wall behind him. The creation of the hole had loosened the blade's position, any movement he made shook it just a bit looser. Azure gritted his teeth and ripped the sword out, his vision grew dark as he tried to fight off his own brain's defenses. Azure took a few uneasy breaths as he tried to stand, his head still dizzy after getting hit by the metal tray the bodyguard. He spat a glob of blood and mucus from his mouth and cleared out his nose, his mouth bright red at this point, and begun to stagger down the damaged hall until he saw a head pop out of the door the bodyguard came from, lavender hair obscuring their face.

"Oh gods, Spike, stay away from the doors, and keep your eyes closed!" The target spoke shakily to her companion.

A pale face came into view as she scanned her eyes over the carnage before her and eventually locked her purple eyes on the wounded archer, her pupils shrank before she retreated back into the cabin, slamming the sliding door shut. Azure smiled sadistically at her fear, amused that even in his bloodied state he could still be intimidating. He had hoped for an easy kill, and if not for the bodyguard it would've been, but like rookies, they overestimated themselves and underestimated the target, just like they had been taught not too.

Though, looking at the slaughter before him, their parents would have likely been lenient when facing such an opponent.

'All that training and this is what it led up to. Fucking great.' Azure groaned in general annoyance at his situation, down in a hand and most of his back-up. Turing his attention back to the woman cowering behind an iced window and a wooden door.

"Come out bitch, no need to drag this out any longer!" Azure yelled, picking up one his fallen brother's knives. "I'd say I'll make it quick, but I'm not in a lying mood!"

Azure grabbed the doors handle with his sliced hand, hissing as he did and opened it to blazing purple light.

"Ah, right." Azure clicked his tongue. "Mage." An invisible force struck him in his chest, sending him flying into the corpse of his bulky brother.

The wind knocked out of him, Azure rolled off the still warming body, a laugh only coming out as a wheeze.

"Ahhhh fuck!" He half groaned, half laughed. "That's a broken rib!" He opened his unsteady eyes to the shaking point of a dagger as black as night.

"D-don't move!"

"Oh, oh, a stick up now! Damn, how the turn tables!"

"Wh- Wha-I-uh" Twilight faltered, her mind trying it's best to adapt in the hectic situation she found herself in. "Wh-Who sent you?! Who, uh, who hired you to attack us!?" Twilight glanced down the hall to see the mess she had only heard, a hole punched into the end of the hall, the light from the dining car on the other side shining beyond the splintered wood. "What happened to Tyrian?"

"Oh, him? Probably getting his ass handed to him by the biggest minotaur this side of Equestria."

~ ~ ~

Tyrian was currently getting his ass handed to him by a massive minotaur.

He had managed to get a few good blows in, but the bull seemingly shrugged off anything he managed to do to it. Tyrian still had his dagger, but that was a toothpick to Stone. Tyrian flexed, the pain from his chest when he breathed being drowned out by the adrenalin coursing through his system.

"Hey, bud, could you die for me? I swear I'll put in a good word for you to the Reaper, we're good friends!" Tyrian ducked a swing, the log of an arm breezing past his head by mere inches. "Well, friends might be stretching things, so let's go with co-workers." Tyrian spun the blade in his hand, bringing it in parallel with his arm. "Come on, I'll show you the office." He said with a grin.

Sidestepping a straight, Tyrian glided the dagger along the minotaur's arm, trailing red down as he went. A quick stab under the arm drew a howl from the horned mercenary as well as a hook into Tyrian's side, a dull crack resonating through his body as the air escaped him. Tyrian retaliated with a punch of his own directly into the snout of the attacker, the hook harmlessly bouncing off the surprisingly squishy nose. The bull reached around the staggered man and grabbed his throat, lifting him into the air. Tyrian brought his blade down on the minotaurs arm, cutting into bone. The minotaur threw him through an open doorway, past cowering train passengers hiding in the nooks and crannies of the train car to avoid the fight.

Tyrian rolled onto the rattling wood of an exposed shipping car, the sudden sound of the strong winds shaking him as the train continued its path past the plains as it neared the mountain separating the county of both the Ponyville township and the land around Canterlot in half. Tyrian recovered at the end of the roll, painfully righting himself into a prone battle stance, raising his head to the blur of the bloodthirsty bull barreling towards him. A quick scan of his surroundings showed him his options, a pulley to his left and a loose and broken and jagged wooden board in front of him, just barely hanging on to the last rusted nail.

The bull quickly gaining, Tyrian stood and brought his foot down on the board, the shattered point of the wood jutting up at gut height to the minotaur. Recognizing the sudden risk, the bloody and exhausted bovine came to a screeching halt as his hooves tried to gain leverage to stop his immense momentum. Tyrian took this opportunity to use what was left of his stamina to run to his left, jumping onto the pulley with outstretched hands, the mechanism spinning around in a three-sixty.

Tyrian swung his body forward as he came around to the bull's back, it's body still reacting to the jagged wood that risked impalement. With all the force he could muster, Tyrian kicked the bull into the board, who was just staggered enough to lose his footing and fall forward, his heavy frame doing most of the work as the wood pushed through his tough flesh. Stone Striker screamed in agony as the wood eviscerated his organs, the ruined wood almost splintering under his immense weight. Blood and viscera fell from the writhing mercenary as it tried to pull itself off the spike, his efforts only allowing more of his internals to spill out.

Tyrian let himself drop from the pulley with a pained grunt, the sharp pain from his breathing not fading as he hoped it would. His dagger still in hand somehow, Tyrian cockily sauntered into the bull's blurry vision, the sight of him only made the dying mercenary grunt tiredly. Tyrian brought this dagger up to his adversary's throat, a smile that radiated malice grew on his bruised face. Heaving out his diminishing breath, Stone Striker looked into the eyes of his killer, searching for any mercy.

Instead, he only found amusement, the glint in his eyes reminiscent of a child who finally got the toy they wanted. Sick at the sight, he brought his head back down, feeling the wet blade push even harder against his throat.

"Aw, what's wrong big guy? Tired?" Tyrian cooed. Bringing the point to his chin, Tyrian raised the exhausted and sickly pale head, earning a pained sigh from it. Fluttering his increasingly tired eyes open, he forced out a few words.

"Who...are you?" He whispered, his lungs trying to claw the air escaping his lips back in a futile attempt to keep his body functioning.

"Who am I?" Tyrian chuckled a bit at the question, thinking it was a bit late for introductions. "That's a long question, friend, so here's the short version." Tyrian grew closer, close enough to feel the hot breath from Stone's dying lungs on his neck.

"My name's Tyrian Shadegale, mercenary, assassin, killer, and all-around Fixer. Fixer of problems such as little shits like you and the ménage à trois back there. Speaking of which-" Tyrian pushed the blade into the bull's neck, but not before a black fist wrapped itself around his neck, what strength remained in it dedicated to choking the life out of him, the knife in their jugular gone ignored.

"Are you f-HUCK-ing kidding me?!" Tyrian choked out, bringing his hands to try and pry the calloused fingers apart to no avail.

The shuddering breaths of Stone Striker from a minute ago were replaced by a low, deep, and gurgling growl as he focused solely on ending the upstart in front of him. His tunnel vision obscured the bloody hands retreating from his own and to the pouches on his target's leatherbound chest. Tyrian felt around his emergency pouch for the one item he had he knew could put the rabid bull down. He felt his hand graze a small metal capsule, grasping it in his weakening grip and pressing the tiny button on its tip, the metal surrounding it growing hot to the touch. Tyrian brought his hand out from his pocket and jammed his fist into the heaving maw of the minotaur, depositing the capsule and ripping his hand out before the confused bull could clamp down on his forearm.

His rage lost in the shock of the unconventional tactic and more focused on the growing heat in his throat, which had quickly gone from uncomfortable to searing in a matter of milliseconds. He released his death grip and began attempting to make himself throw up, only to remember half of his stomach had been filled with jagged wood. Steam and smoke began to billow out of his nostrils and gagging mouth as the melting metal burned a hole into his flesh in his convulsing gullet.

Tyrian pushed himself backward, pulling himself further away from the panicking minotaur in anticipation of the coming fireworks.

With a terrified whimper, Stone Striker's head and the upper parts of his torso exploded in a shower of gore and sparks as the raw magic from the explosive escaped its container in an extremely violent manner. The profusely bleeding corpse of Stone Striker fell forward, whatever resistance it had was gone as it collapsed onto the wood with a wet thud. Blood drained down through the cracks of the wood, leaving a trail of blood behind the train as it sped ever closer to a tunnel carved through a mountain.

Tyrian coughed the discomfort in his throat away, which only added to the soreness of his chest. Now that he had a few seconds to himself, he pressed down on where he had been struck minutes earlier, only to pull away with a hiss as extra pain shot through his chest. A broken rib, maybe two, and along with the still bleeding stab wound in his arm, Tyrian had a lot of problems. He looked down on the eviscerated corpse at his feet, satisfied with his victory. It had been a bit hairy there for a couple of seconds, but Tyrian had been in far worse situations, the dismantling of the Manehattan Underground being one of the worst, some of the bloodiest things he's had to do happened only a week ago. If not for his experience and sword, he likely would have died many times over.

'Speaking of which, where is Oathkee-'

"Oh, shi- TWILIGHT!" Tyrian broke into a dead sprint, hopping over the still cooling corpse of a now forgotten enemy.

~ ~ ~

"So, uh, you just going to stand there with a knife in my face or you gonna kill me?" Azure coughed.

"Why are you so calm?! HOW are you so calm?!." Twilight yelled. Azure shrugged and nodded to the broken bodies around him.

"This was a suicide mission anyway, but I don't think any of us expected it to go south so quickly. When death is certain, it's best to forget it exists at all. At least, that's what my 'family' taught me." Azure tried to make air quotes but winced in pain as he flexed his hand, the bones in his mangled palm the only thing keeping it in place.

"You willingly chose to go on a suicide mission? Why are you doing this?!" Twilight yelled, jabbing the dagger even closer to his nose, which only brought a smile to his face.

"'Cause if I don't, the new god of this fetid world will skin me alive. Thankfully that's after she's done with all of you sun-slaves." Azure flexed his good hand and focused his gaze on her hands.

"Twilight? Can I open my eyes now?" Spike called from the corner of the cabin behind Twilight.

"Keep them closed, Spike! Open them only when I tell you too!" The second Twilight turned her back to the dragon, Azure's dry hand shot up and wrapped its self around Twilight's wrist. She screamed in fear, trying to pull away from the man's grip fruitlessly as he tried desperately to pry the dagger from her hands. Twilight took a step backward, her foot catching the head of the body of Havoc Wind and fell over him, the shock causing her to lose her grip on the dagger. Twilight's head struck the sliding door, sending her vision into a blurry mess.

Twilight groaned, her head throbbing along with her adrenalin fueled heart, and began scrambling for the dropped dagger only for her hand to be crushed by a boot heel. A scream tore its way past her throat once again and she was sure she had a broken finger. She looked up to her attacker, her disheveled hair obscuring her vision slightly. Azure Haze stood above her, black and gold dagger in hand with a sick smile in his mug.

"Nice try, hun, but you're way outta your league." He twirled the dagger in his fingers, his eyes now focused squarely on her. "Keep your eyes open, I like to watch people fade." His red smile paralyzed Twilight, the predator's maw now ready to snap shut on her neck.

A purple blur shot over her head, latching itself onto the Azure's face, the dagger flying through the air harmlessly as Azure panicked and thrashed about.

"GET AWAY FROM MY SISTER!" Spike yelled as he clawed the attacker with claws made to cut through solid stone, each swipe cutting deep, gouging bone and severing muscle. Azure tried to pry the furious baby dragon from his profusely bleeding head, only for the claws to dig into his skull in resistance. With a deep inhale, the dragon blew emerald flames into the assassin's face, scorching his flesh and turning hair into smoke. Screams filled the air, which quickly grew hoarse and strained as Azure Haze inhaled the searing fire.

Lots of screaming and angry yelling met Tyrian's swollen ears as he finally entered the residence car, the ache and exhaustion from the beating he took slowly fading in. The sight of the green flaming skull of the archer he had fought earlier taking him by surprise, the dragon clinging to said head looked frenzied, desperate, but mostly scared. His grip on the liquidating flesh faltered and he fell, straight into a stray pool of blood, the purple and green scales being overtaken by a sticky red layer. Tyrian silently thanked the baby dragon for making his job that much easier and focused on his green target.

Tyrian charged the screaming man, his shoulder colliding with Azure's bloody chest. Both men fell to the ground, but only one had the cognizance to reach for a weapon. Tyrian's hand found a familiar grip of a dagger, his fingers wrapping around it with an almost tailored fit. Tyrian, sick of the screaming and burning, shoved the point of the pitch black blade into Azure's temple, the flesh and bone parting as the anguished yells died out immediately. Azure's gaping mouth went slack and his scorched skin cracked and popped as the flames licked the air above his smoldering skull.

Tyrian ripped the blade out and pulled away as fast as he could, expecting his fingerless gloves to be engulfed by the same flames, but to his confusion, he found none. His hand was a cool as the blood seeping into the carpet beneath him, an impossible scenario in his mind until he looked back to the abnormally colored flames. Tyrian cautiously swiped his hand through the fire, feeling nothing but the wind through his fingertips.

'Strange fire, strange dragon. Guess that makes sense.' Tyrian went in for another swipe but was stopped by the pain in his chest. It had been lingering on the fringes of his mind, but now it roared to life, taking his breath away in an instant, the veritable ocean of adrenalin he had relied on dissipating. He pushed himself off the smoldering body, the flames dying as the flesh they had been feeding on turned black and charred. Tyrian put his back to the wooden wall separating his cabin and the one next to them and propped himself up. Sniffing the smokey air, the smell of burnt flesh reminiscent of bacon and ham cooking on an open fire being both alluring and sicking at the same time. He looked to his left, past his blood-stained coat collar and saw Twilight, the baby dragon in her arms, his claws and face covered in red.

They were crying, and Tyrian didn't know why.

Author's Note

I listened to an artist called Zack Hemsey while writing this. He creates epics, trailer music, rap ballads, etc. He's really good and I suggest listening to a few of his songs.

My favorite so far is "I'll Find A Way"