"Living in willful ignorance is an ugly thing, but Gaia often speaks loudest in the wild places of Her creation.”

As the shimmering healing magic closed around Quillwright’s foreleg, it fused into one bright band of white light. The young pegasus sighed with relief as her wound was sealed. The spell then softly dissipated, leaving nothing but the faintest of scars to indicate that an injury had been present.

Smiling, Aurora Tide draped the blanket back over her patient and nodded. “Good as new. Now, Quillwright, might I ask why you came to us? Where are your family or friends?”

“They’re…” Quillwright’s mouth hung slightly open as she scrunched her brow. An expression of fear crossed her face before being replaced with guilt. “They’ve been taken by slavers. F-from Fillydelphia…”

“Oh, poor filly,” Aurora breathed. “I’m so sorry.”

At this, Quillwright shook her head, her back straightening with energy. “B-but that’s why I found you! I need your help!” Driven by resolve, she stood from the bench. “It only happened a couple hours ago, we can still rescue them!”

Aurora paused, her eyes quickly scanning the surrounding room. The Manehattan Public Library was currently being turned upside-down by Scribes, who had only just begun the grueling work of sorting through the thousands upon thousands of books stored within. “I… I wish we could help you, dear, I really do. But the decision isn’t mine to make.”

“But your… your posters say you’re here to help us! That Steel Rangers always do the right thing!”

The commotion seemed to draw the attention of one of the Scribes, who trotted over. “Something amiss, Aurora?” he asked, indicating the indignant pegasus filly.

“Not at all, Sheaf. Quillwright and I are just having a discussion.” She tilted her head. “Do you or Missive need me for something?”

Sheaf waved her off with a hoof. “Not unless you have a spell to sort every book in here into alphabetical by title, no. They’re sorted by categories and then author last names.”

“You’re looking for a book?” Quillwright chimed in. “What is it?”

Sheaf glanced at the filly with amusement. “We are, and it’s nothing you need to be concerned about, tribal.”

Looking at Aurora Tide, Quillwright asked, “What if I was to help you first?”

Turning, Aurora Tide raised an eyebrow. “Hm?”

“If I helped you find this book, would you help me save my parents?”

“It… it doesn’t work that way in our order, I’m afraid. You’d need to be one of us to propose such a mission, and after that gain approval from numerous ponies far above my station.”

“Not to mention you’d need to be literate,” Sheaf sneered quietly. Aurora shot him a disapproving look.

Quillwright seemed to think on this, then cast her eyes across the many towering bookcases that lined the walls.

Once Sheaf had rejoined his comrades, Aurora Tide frowned. “I’m sorry, Quillwright. I wish I could help you, really, but…”

“What’s the book you’re trying to find?”

“Perplexing Pony Plagues. A month ago one of our expeditions in the wasteland came down with an unfamiliar illness, one which has only worsened over time. We haven’t found any successful treatments yet, but we’ve seen references to this book in the past so we came here to locate a copy.” Aurora shook her head. “The Scribes have been begging for a proper exploration and catalog of anything and everything useful in the library, so they’ve finally gotten their wish today.”

A commotion arose from the far end of the room, beyond an open doorway. A scream, several shouts, and the crackling zap of laser fire interrupted everyone’s work. Several Scribes and armored ponies went to investigate, but a pair of young Steel Rangers rushed out from the doorway to meet them first. One was clearly distressed while the other was still shouting, “What’d I tell you?!”

“Ghouls!” the other shakily exclaimed to a Knight who was arriving. “I-I had to defend myself-!”

“Yeah, except you missed your first shot and started a fire, idiot!”

Those words sent a wave of silent shock across all who were in earshot. Dark smoke began creeping out of the doorway, rolling up the wall and collecting across the ceiling. At this, everypony launched into action, desperate to extinguish the fire and to keep it from spreading into the main room.

Aurora Tide turned to Quillwright and addressed her, “You need to get outside, now!”

As she reached to pull the young pegasus towards the exit, however, Quillwright backed up. “No, I can still help!”

“Absolutely not!” The Apothecary made another grab, but Quillwright took to the air and was out of physical and magical reach in moments. Jostled by evacuating Steel Rangers, Aurora called once more for Quillwright but it was no use.

Ascending to the second floor of the library, Quillwright noticed wisps of smoke drifting around the bookcases, seeping up from somewhere below. There were only minutes before the building would be completely engulfed by fire, so she needed to act quickly. Her eyes were already beginning to sting, and a cough rattled up from my lungs…

***

“Akh akh!” I shook awake as I coughed violently. Black smoke washed across the ceiling, and I sat up in alarm, my wing whipping itself up in front of my mouth in an attempt to filter the smoke. My nostrils were assaulted by a combined scent of burnt apples and a strangely sweet odor that I was unfamiliar with.

Willow was parked in front of the fireplace, cringing backwards and choking as dark clouds of smoke roiled around her. She cursed and lit her horn, clearly trying to extinguish the fire somehow. When she heard me stirring, she looked my way and called an apology. “Sorry, Quill, just trying to put dis out…” This sentence was cut off by another painful-looking cough.

I struggled up and out of the loveseat, approaching with my feathery filter still extended over my mouth. “How’d you…?” I began, before I nearly hacked up a lung from inhaling the smoke.

“Fuck!” Willow was having a difficult time as well, and as she fanned her hooves in front of her to ward off the toxic fumes, she finally gave up. “Let’s… ack, let’s get outside!”

We caught our breath after retreating to the street. The morning air was much clearer, still filled by fog but now lit up by the early sun. Tears streaked down Willow’s face as she blinked furiously, shaking soot from her mane and magically straightening her clothes. Black smoke was escaping from the front door, and I turned to Willow with concern.

“Uh, Zero isn’t still in there, is he?”

“Nah, he…” Willow coughed again. “He left a while before you woke up, said some’ting about dat place you got de fuel from last night.” I noticed the unicorn was still shivering.

“How’re you feeling?” I asked while patting my robes to knock off clouds of collected ashes.

Willow swallowed with a grimace and cleared her throat. “Not much better, no. Still got de frissons.” Her voice was weaker than usual, left hoarse from coughing. “I might actually be sick.”

“... It’s not typhoof, I hope?”

“Too early to say, I t’ink.”

After the apartment had aired out some more, Willow telekinetically gathered a clump of mud from a nearby flowerbed. “I dumped some water on de fire first,” she explained as the moist earth rotated in her golden field of magic. “Didn’t work out so well, no.”

We held our breath and ventured back inside, where Willow used the mud to smother the smoking remnants of the fireplace. We collected our saddlebags, and I attached the PipBuck to my leg, the E.F.S. display flickering on in my periphery.

Exiting back onto the street, Willow peered at me to ask, “By de way, you guys didn’t happen to see a pharmacy in town last night, did you?”

“I didn’t notice any,” I informed her. “We can look on the way to find Zero, though.”

“Dat would be nice.” She smirked, then added, “If we can’t find one, a comic shop would make me feel better, too.”

We studied every faded sign and peered through grimy windows, but this street was devoid of healthcare establishments. The morning sunlight was enough to provide a more complete picture of Martingale. The homes and businesses here were once colorful, their wooden frames painted in a wide selection of pastel hues. Mulisianan flags hung from many of the houses, accompanied by purple, white, and gold bunting banners underneath windows and along porch railings. Much of the greenery that had been planted in front yards or in pots and planters were spilling forth into the road or devouring the buildings closest to their roots.

I managed to lead us through town and back to the filling station. Once there, we found that Zero hadn’t yet managed to burn any of the biofuel, though he had mostly disassembled one of the pumps. He sat near to it, studying the components before taking some tools back to the main device.

“Howdy, Miss Wisp,” Zero called as we approached. “Feeling any better?” He gave me a nod of acknowledgement, which I reciprocated.

Willow shook her head, wincing at the motion. “Looked around for a pharmacy, haven’t found one.”

“I’ll help search,” the old zebra offered. “Don’t have everything I need to start a fire below anyway.”

As Zero stood and packed away his tools, Willow commented, “Already went t’rough dis once wid Quill.” She elbowed me and muttered, “Camphor’d be nice to run into out here, yeah?"

I was saved from having to respond to that by Zero, who asked, “Who?” He was squinting at Willow with one ear perked up.

“Camphor, he’s dis weird-weird doctor wid a pet goremot’. Helped us out a couple days ago when Quill came down wid typhoof.”

“I know him. So that’s the name he’s going by these days,” Zero snorted, looking away. “Glad to hear he’s still alive, at least.”

“Wait, you’ve met?” Willow sounded surprised.

“He was part of our tribe many years ago. We didn’t see eye-to-eye on much, and, well,” Zero gestured back and forth with his hoof. “One thing led to another, he left. Last I heard, he was settled in Buckwater.”

“Huh. He left when I was still a filly, now he just helps different tribes around dere.”

“I see.” Zero frowned. "Well, Miss Wisp, it's only right that I repay your help. Once we reach the hotel, I'll put a call out for my tribe. If you don’t mind waiting on them, we have skilled healers who can treat your illness."

“I don’t know if I’ll have a choice,” Willow admitted.

We explored the rest of Martingale for almost an hour, but came up empty time and again. The amount of sinkholes peppered throughout town only continued to rise, many having pulled buildings apart or left only a few walls and supports as evidence that a structure had been present at all. I began to fear that the local doctor or pharmacy had been above one of the chasms as it opened beneath, taking all the medicine to… wherever sinkholes went. I brought this idea up to the others.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t be surprised,” Willow muttered. As we trotted past a sinkhole, she paused to spit over the edge. “One day I’d like to see what’s really down dere.”

“In Caverns of Calamity, Daring Do falls down a sinkhole to find that it leads to a network of underground caves, filled with glowing crystals and wild thestrals,” I informed her. Zero looked as if he had no clue what I was talking about.

Willow laughed, which brought on a short coughing fit. “Still not gonna get me to read it, Quill.”

I shrugged, smiling. “You’d like it.”

Once we were certain that we had searched all of Martingale and come up empty, we got back on the road. After yesterday’s ordeals, we had silently agreed to forgo hiding anything anymore. Zero no longer attempted to conceal his rifle while I kept my wing exposed and E.F.S. activated. Willow, similarly, didn’t bother to put up her hood, and her shotgun was stored within easy magical reach as she led the way.

Not long into our trip, I took some time to exercise my wing. First, I extended the appendage as far as I could, spreading every individual feather. Slowly, I rotated my whole wing at its base, rolling in a clockwise motion, then reversed it. After that I pulled the wing back in, then repeated the whole procedure. This went on for half an hour, and by the time I finished my back and wing muscles were sore. Hopefully the next tandem flight I took would be somewhat easier if I made these stretches a regular activity.

Our pace noticeably slowed as time wore on. Willow slouched more and more, trembling visibly at times and coughing constantly. When questioned about taking a rest, she brushed our concerns aside with assurances that we needed to keep moving, that any time spent idling in the Valley would only increase the potential hazards from wildlife and the environment.

The fog was as thick as ever, only permitting ten or so feet of hazy vision before terminating in an opaque swirl of gray. Willow’s bulb ahead of us ensured that we wouldn’t stumble into a creek or down a sinkhole as it floated low over the concrete. At some point, we found that the road was becoming heavily populated with motorwagons, chariots, and carriages. First, the vehicles were stopped at reasonable distances apart, but as we cantered along the line they grew closer and closer until they were crumpled and broken from stacking collisions.

All of these crashes culminated at a three-way intersection, where a large passenger wagon was the focal point amidst a twisted pile of wood and steel. Along its sides was green-and-white painted branding for VimVam, and it had been pulling out of the road that intersected into Route Forty when it was struck by one of the myriad wrecked motorwagons. I wondered if the fog that surrounded us now had played a role in the crash.

At both corners of the intersection were bright, flashy signs that beckoned readers to “Turn here for VimVam Land!” Creepers embraced the signage, mostly obscuring the image of the unicorns I’d seen on the brochure.

“Anything worth seeing that-a-ways?” I asked Willow.

The unicorn didn’t pause to look. “It’s like a jungle, almost, wid massive plants and beaucoup bugs. Folks used to harvest leaves and roots from in dere for potions, but after Brayton Rouge was abandoned and after de Valley flooded, it wasn’t seen as wort’ de trip anymore.”

Zero dissuaded my curiosity. “Few return from paying it a visit.”

“You think the Cogs would want to control it, if they want the biofuel VimVam made?”

“I’m sure they’d love to, but as you know...” he said, indicating our guide pony. “... The Valley’s not the easiest place to navigate. That being said, if there’s even a drop of fuel in there, I’ll find it and destroy it all.”

Another half hour of following the remains of Route Forty brought us to a welcome sight: a roadside sign informing us that the Maritrot Inn & Suites was just ahead. This put a much-needed burst of strength into our step, though Willow’s speed was still considerably sluggish and halted periodically by coughing fits.

We crossed over a fractured and weed-infested parking lot, and as the midday sun filtered down through the layers of mist, we at last caught sight of Zero’s prize. The hotel loomed above us, an edifice of stone that stretched high enough into the fog to vanish like it was soaring into clouds. Though dark stains of moss and grime striped the walls, the structure looked very much intact, at least as far as I could see. I counted two and a half rows of windows before it was obscured, so I couldn’t tell how many total floors the hotel consisted of.

Outside was a circular drive with a number of vehicles parked along it, including a passenger wagon identical to the wrecked one outside of VimVam Land. I wasn’t eager to look inside, still mentally scarred by my first encounter with a bloodsprite. Stepping around it and towards the entrance, we observed that the front doors were hanging wide open, with leaves, dirt, and debris scattered inside and out.

The lobby was a wide, low-ceilinged room with a marble floor. Across the tarnished surface were criss-crossing muddy tracks, consisting of an even mix of hoofprints and pawprints. What was curious was how all were arranged in single-file, and that the paws had to have been the size of my head. The hoofprints were the size of a minotaur's, at least judging from what I recalled of Bertha. I turned to ask Willow what she made of this, only to find her staring at the tracks in horror.

"Chimera," was what she whispered.

The three of us immediately went into alert mode, weapons drawn and ready. Even Willow, despite her weakened state, looked tense and ready for a fight. I did a quick three-sixty to find no red ticks on my E.F.S. compass. After relaying this to the others, Zero shook his head.

“I want to check the rooms anyway, just in case,” he told us.

Willow observed, “Dese tracks could be old, it’s hard to say for sure. I don’t t’ink de chimera’s still here.” She coughed as quietly as she could.

“You two can stay here if you’d like,” Zero said as he began following the tracks to the front desk.

Following him with Riptide at the ready, I spoke, “I’ll come too!” Willow, meanwhile, was all too happy to sit tight in the lobby, parking herself on a worn-out couch.

Moving as a unit, Zero and I passed reception and then a pair of elevators. The interior decor was fancy but not ritzy, a tasteful blend of wall-mounted landscape paintings, marble and tile floors, and ornate rugs. Despite sitting unoccupied for almost two centuries, I could envision the hotel being a comfortable place to live.

The muddy prints were beginning to fade as we reached the end of the first hall, and now we found ourselves at an intersection with lines of rooms on either side. After switching on our personal light sources, we wordlessly coordinated our way over to the nearest door, which hung slightly ajar. Zero took point, his gauss rifle whirring quietly with energy as he crept inside with caution.

Inside the dimly lit room we found no chimera, nor any other hostile creature. The furniture was the standard affair, consisting of a queen-sized bed, a table, and two chairs. There was an empty closet and a small bathroom, all devoid of any sign of occupation. The next several rooms we investigated were nearly identical in furnishing and condition, though one had a few random articles of pre-war clothing scattered across the bed, floor, and an open suitcase.

Looping our way back past the intersection, we uncovered a room that was clearly ravaged by large, razor-sharp claws. The carpet had been shredded, while the bed was knocked apart, the sheets and mattress both askew atop the frame. I noticed that adhered to the sides of the doorframe and scattered along the floor were loose strands of orange fur. Zero grimaced as he looked upon the scene.

“Miss Wisp’s right,” he sighed, eyes fixed on the long and jagged rips in the carpet. “One's been in the area, at least.”

I took Riptide out of my mouth to ask, “Have you ever fought a chimera before?”

The zebra shook his head. “I thought they’d recently gone extinct, to be honest. You would hear about a sighting or even a mauling once in a blue moon, but it was very rare. Last couple of years were totally absent of chimera reports; it's just that they aren't the most dangerous things in the swamps anymore.”

Back in the hall, we followed it until we found another split, this time leading to a kitchen and an indoor pool. The former room was searched first and found to be stripped mostly bare of any useful ingredients or preserved foods. There were two dust-covered cans of Cajun rice and beans partly hidden underneath one of the counters, piles of empty cardboard boxes, and a few glass bottles of VimVam that had broken on the floor ages ago.

Meanwhile, the pool room was vast and echoed every noise. The walls and ceiling were composed primarily out of glass, covered in moisture from the current of fog that gently flowed over and around. The temperature inside was a few degrees warmer, I noticed. The pool was mostly empty, with only a few puddles of dirty water collected at the bottom.

Before moving up to the second floor, we checked in on Willow. The poor unicorn was curled up on the couch, her body shaking and eyes clenched shut. Sweat beaded on her forehead, and as we approached, she was seized by another coughing fit. Aware that she was mere yards away from the front doors, we coaxed her out of the couch and led her into one of the first-floor rooms, where she eagerly burrowed into the bedsheets.

“We’ll have someone along to help you soon,” Zero reassured her.

The next few floors of the hotel were searched at a faster pace than before, all of them empty. Occasionally a few personal items would be left behind, but it seemed as if the hotel had been abandoned in a rush. There were no signs of a chimera having ascended the hotel, which I put down at least partly to the narrowness of the staircases and prevalence of shut doors.

At the end of the top floor, Zero found the roof access door and nodded towards it. “I’ll get in touch with my tribe, should have a good signal from up here.” His choice of words implied that he wanted to make the call privately, so I obliged and started descending the building. As I traversed the darkened stairwell all alone, my mind worked continuously, unable to shake the suspicion that had surrounded Zero since we first met.

What kind of tribe was the zebra a part of that required a hotel to live in, let alone setting up a home in such an inhospitable region of Mulisiana? My idea of the Institute seemed incompatible with his behavior and intentions thus far, but still…

Once back in the lobby, I dragged the couch into the center of the room and turned it to face the front door and windows. Plopping onto it, I retrieved Riptide and laid it on the arm of the couch, within easy reach should a threat approach. Staring into the wall of fog that obscured the parking lot, I wondered where that chimera could be now.

Zero joined me a couple minutes later. He took a chair and positioned it next to my seat, joining me on watch. His battle saddle was undone and he set the weapon down at his hooves.

“My tribe should be here tomorrow,” he told me.

“Got it.”

We sat for quite a while in silence. Zero’s attention gradually drifted over to me, and finally he mentioned something that I suspected he’d been considering since last night.

“Curious outfit you’ve picked out,” he mused.

I shifted in my seat. “It’s not a Cog robe,” I assured him. “I know they wear ones like this, but I’m not associated with them.”

“I know. It’s just not common to see Steel Ranger uniforms this far south of Equestria.”

My brows pinched as I glanced at him, our eyes connecting. I didn’t know whether to reply to what he was implying, but he continued regardless.

“Now, a flightless pegasus wouldn’t be able to make such a journey on her own, so you either found those robes somewhere here in Mulisiana, lost your wing recently, or you arrived here another way.” He leaned back, tilting his head a little as his eyes moved to study the ceiling. “Coincidentally, I heard that Divide had a recent encounter with an airship, one that was shot down and might very well be in Brayton Rouge by now, assuming they’ve made it down the Rift safely.”

Was Zero now trying to dissect me? He’d always regarded me with what could be described generously as curiosity and cynically as suspicion. The robes had been a definite tip-off to him that there was more to my story than he originally expected, something beyond what his careful gaze had deduced just outside of Divide’s walls, when I was wearing…

“Of course, you wore Stable 56 barding when we first met. You could’ve bought it from Divide, but they’re also sold in Buckwater. You and Willow have met Camphor, who’s always had a fondness for that neck of the woods. Now, what could a Steel Ranger want with a backwater village that’s long since run dry of the stimpaks that once made them a trading hub? It sure ain’t the tarberries.”

Does he know?

“Miss Quillwright, did you enter Stable 56?”

My answer was not immediate. I thought through every moment we’d been together so far, and my original suspicion and fear of his association with the Institute resurfaced. I didn’t know why he would hire a unicorn like Willow to find a forgotten old hotel in the middle of a flooded forest, but he acted like he knew something more about Fifty-Six. My own memories of the fourth floor drifted back as I stared vacantly out into the fog.

The locked door, the Ministry of Wartime Technology connection, the death of Vox and Ardent, the low hum that pulsed through that room like the Stable was a living thing. The armored unicorn, my near-death experience and frankly miraculous survival. The Stable allowing me to leave mostly unscathed, while driving my allies out with lethal efficiency. The PipBuck on my leg that had allowed us entrance while preventing the former residents re-entry. Overmare Sprocket’s mention of the Institute’s alumni working in the Stable. All these fragments danced about in my brain, teasing me about connections that I simply couldn’t establish.

“We did.”

Silence followed for what must have been minutes after my admission. My stomach felt like it was twisting itself into knots, fear and anxiety clawing into my thoughts.

When Zero next spoke, it was in a low and almost gentle tone that indicated he knew I was confused and conflicted. “Alright. I appreciate the honesty.”

I looked at the old zebra, my breaths shallow. “What’s behind the door?”

He did not turn to face me, his attention fixed towards the hotel entrance. Despite avoiding my gaze, I noticed his ears twitch ever so subtly in recognition when I mentioned the door. Zero’s face was resolute when he answered, “I would tell you if I knew.”

A familiar sense of distrust flooded through me and any good will that Zero had built with me up until now evaporated. He was lying, no doubt about it. Trying to keep my cool, I grit my teeth and fired back, “Who are you, really?”

Zero kept looking forward, only blinking a few times, before he responded, “I’ve been truthful with you, Quillwright.” He sighed quietly. “When my tribe arrives, we’ll try to answer anything you want to know.”

I scoffed. “Your ‘tribe’, right. You’re with the Institute, aren’t you?” My eyes flicked to the gauss rifle. “Where else would you get something like that?”

“It was stolen from the Institute, yes, but they’re not our allies.”

Uh-huh. I could see it now: a horizon of glowing synthetic eyes slicing through the fog, marching upon the hotel to claim it for… something. Admittedly, Zero's interest in the building was the one thing I couldn't square with my paranoia. Was there something of value here that I couldn't see, like a Stable hidden underneath? Wouldn't the Institute have the means to locate it, given their immense magical and technological means? Assuming Zero really was a member of some kind of tribe, what was the purpose of venturing so far out into the Sunken Valley to claim this place? I considered what Willow had said before we left Divide.

“So are you hiding from them?”

Zero gave one nod. “From them and the Cogs. Both are at a disadvantage here.”

Hiding from the Chosen of Gaia, that I could believe; power armor would sink like a boulder if it stepped near quicksand.

“What do any of them want with your tribe?”

“Much of our tribe consists of society’s outcasts, as well as defectors from the aforementioned factions. We call ourselves the Hayvenites. We want to establish a safe community, and this hotel is the first major step for us.”

This was my own chance to go for the proverbial throat. “You’re ex-Institute.”

This elicited a short, terse smile of confirmation from Zero. “I am,” he stated.

Though I had been suspecting it for some time, it still got my heart racing to know I was finally confronting someone who had a connection to this mysterious group that I’d heard of so much but ultimately knew so little about. I swallowed as a rush of questions congregated in my mind, all desperately racing to escape first.

“Is it true? Synths, ponies being replaced by the Institute, all that?”

Zero nodded. “Yes. Not as commonly as people fear, though.”

“How can you create a machine so convincing?”

“They’re almost entirely organic, that’s how. It’s… a very complicated process that took many, many years for them to get down to a science.”

“How long have they been creating synths? And why?”

Holding up a hoof, Zero replied, “Listen, Quillwright… I know you have a lot of questions. They’ll be answered in due time, just not right now.”

I gestured around at the empty lobby. "Why not? We don't have anything better to do." Furrowing my brow, I added, "And I'd really prefer to know why you've been so evasive."

"Look, there's someone else in the tribe who can explain everything far better than I could. You'll get your answers, just save them until tomorrow, alright?"

Though I was frustrated, I grit my teeth and conceded. The quiet following our revelatory conversation was several layers of uncomfortable as we stared out the front windows as if it was business as usual. Since Zero didn’t reach for his PipBuck, I took it upon myself to switch on some music. The radio signal was faint but intact enough to carry a tune, which serenaded us for the rest of the night.

“Up and at ‘em, Quillwright. They’re here.”

I jerked awake as I heard Zero’s voice. Alarmed that I’d fallen asleep while on watch, I instinctively grabbed for Riptide. Now armed and standing, I finally had the chance to survey the surroundings and take in exactly who the zebra was referring to: a single young mare who had materialized out of the sunlit fog and was approaching the front doors. Zero let her in; noticing he had left his rifle on the floor and looked relaxed, I put Riptide back on the couch. The newcomer trotted with a bounce in her step more spirited than anyone I’d seen in Mulisiana, trailing wisps of fog as she entered the hotel.

The mare was an unfamiliar crossbreed of some kind, possessing white legs and a fluffy light brown coat, with the black stripes of a zebra swirling up from her hooves and around her whole body. Her ears clued me in to the other half of her parentage, however: tall and rigid, white inside with black ear tips -- the same variety I had seen sported by donkeys. Her blonde mane was done up in a braided mohawk, and heavy saddlebags were worn over her back along with a wooden quarterstaff, secured through the straps. One end of it was tipped with metal, over top of wires that snaked out and down the shaft.

“Hey, Zee,” she addressed Zero, who nodded and turned his attention to the outside. The mare’s bright and wide brown eyes then took me in quickly and she broke out into a grin. “Hi!” she chirped, meeting me halfway. and extending an eager hoof towards me. “My name’s Mikaella, but Mika is fine too.”

“Uh, hey,” I replied, a little surprised at how forward she was. “I’m Quillwright, Quill for short.”

“Oh, like the writing kind?”

“Yep.” When Mikaella’s brows rose in a clear request for me to elaborate, I explained, “When I was a filly I used to turn any feathers I shed into quills. My parents thought it was funny, and the name stuck.”

Mikaella’s short spell of confusion brightened up quickly as she nodded. “Ah, I see! I never would’ve guessed, hehee-haw!” As the giggle-snort escaped her, amusement turned to embarrassment just as fast. She scrunched up her face, cheeks flushing slightly. “Ignore that, please and thanks.”

“Didn’t have too much trouble reaching us, I take it?” I heard Zero’s voice from behind Mikaella. She moved to my side and turned to watch as Zero entered with something that gave me a genuine fright.

What was once a synthetic chassis identical to the model hanging in Magnolia Grove was now walking on its own, limbs rigidly imitating the gait of a living pony. I was horrified by how it was decorated; leathery radigator hide was bound around the legs, while a matted gray pelt cloak was fastened over its body. A gator skull was affixed to the head, eye sockets illuminated by an ethereal blue glow. It was vaguely facing Zero’s direction when an otherworldly voice crackled out of its voicebox. “Nothing worth a bullet.”

Mikaella took immediate notice of my reaction and placed a reassuring hoof on my withers. “Hey, don’t worry, Quill! Haywire’s with us.”

Two ex-Institute members of the tribe and counting… and who came up with that name?

“Is it… reprogrammed?” I stuttered with no small amount of effort, still shocked by its appearance and, in turn, everyone else’s nonchalance.

The machine, hearing my question, rotated its head to look at me. The servos in the neck whirred and clicked as they came to a halt, and the ghostly, flickering radigator eyesockets somehow felt like they were assessing me. “We are here by request. This vessel is no longer under control of its former puppeteers.” That voice sent a chill down my spine.

“Haywire’s a spirit we summoned and bound to a synthetic body,” Zero clarified. “You aren’t in danger from it, at least not physically.”

“Our name is Corbeau,” the machine corrected, somehow managing to sound irritated even through the crude vox module. “You creatures truly have no consideration for Our titles. We do not find nicknames endearing.”

"Well, if someone hadn't played coy about their real name for so long, they wouldn't have needed a nickname now, would they?" Zero said pointedly.

Haywire looked at me. “See? See what kind of disrespect We have to suffer through here, Pegasus? Alas. We shall now retrieve the others.” The synth adjusted the shotgun and rifle attached to either side of its frame, and then with a series of whirs and clunks, it did an about-face and dramatically flourished its cloak, cantering into the fog. It brushed past a motley group of Zero’s tribe, who were just now unhooking themselves from wagons or setting down barrels or heavy saddlebags that needed to be hauled into the hotel. Zero went to give them a helping hoof, while Mikaella turned to me.

“So I heard you have a sick unicorn?”

Before we reached her room, I explained that Willow was a half-ghoul and that her current illness wasn't radiation-based. Mikaella nodded in understanding and allowed me to knock before we entered. Not receiving a reply, I called out close to the door, “Willow, it’s Quill and someone who's here to help.” I heard a faint groan on the other side, so we stepped in. Making my way through the dim room, I cracked open the blinds to let in some light, though not enough to hurt Willow’s eyes. There was an acrid smell that lingered in the air, now visually identifiable.

It appeared that at some point during the night Willow had needed to suddenly vomit, and while she had attempted to aim for the floor, the far edge of the bed had been stained. As we neared the unicorn, she slowly turned herself over to face us. Her normally-disarrayed mane was somehow now even messier, slick with sweat from her brow. Her voice, clearly shot, croaked, "Hey Quill, I'm still feeling miserable, yeah." Her eyes tried to focus on Mikaella next, causing her to squint in bewilderment. “Gardes don, Zero’s gotten a lot prettier!"

Mikaella's ears wiggled in amusement, and she didn't show any sign of revulsion at the sight of radiation scarring. "I'm Mika, not Zero. You're Willow Wisp?" She received a glacial nod in reply as she slid off her saddlebags. "That's a lovely name!"

"You've got a lovely mane too," Willow grinned deliriously. Is she flirting on purpose?

Mikaella giggled at that and grabbed some items from her bags, including a handmade washcloth and some bottled water. "I'm here to help you, can you tell me what you've been feeling lately? Nausea, chills, itching, soreness, coughing, vertigo, that sorta stuff?"

“Uh…” Willow coughed. “All of de above, except itching and… what was de last one? Ver…?”

Before I could both pronounce and define vertigo, Mikaella explained, “Are you feeling dizzy, like the room is spinning?”

“Ugh, yeah.”

“Poor thing.” Taking the cloth, Mikaella wet it and wiped Willow’s chin clean of some specks of bile, then folded the cloth in half and placed it across the unicorn’s forehead. “Just take it easy, don’t strain your throat by speaking.”

“Mmm.”

Mikaella’s face was grim when she turned to inform me, “The high temperature, the nausea and chills, coughing and throwing up; that's most likely swamp fever she got from a bite.”

I thought back across our trip through the Valley. “But she wasn’t stung by any bloodsprites…?”

“It’s caught from smaller bugs. I think her fall into the quicksand lowered her internal temperature enough for the sickness to finally get a hoof-hold.”

Okay, so the small bugs can be just as scary as the giant ones. “It’s treatable, right?”

The zonkey rubbed the back of one forehoof. “It is, but I don’t know the cure; I’m still learning medicine from Xura, my mentor. She or one of the healers that’ll be here soon would know. All I can do right now is ease the pain.” Mikaella picked out three pill bottles from her saddlebag and gave Willow a selection. “Those should help you feel better.”

“T’ank you,” Willow rasped.

Mikaella smiled and gave a quick, short bow. “My pleasure! I’ll check on you again later.”

“Don’t take too long, cher.” That was definitely on purpose. Mikaella reacted with a soft laugh and shake of her head. Despite the dim lighting, I thought I saw her blushing.

Returning to the hallway, I was about to see what Zero was up to when Mikaella stopped me. “Hey, Quillwright, wanna help me pick out my room?” Her eyes twinkled as she gestured to the stairs. “Somewhere with a nice view.” She then paused, her features grimacing a bit as she realized, “Well, a nice elevated view of the fog, hehe!”

Shrugging, I agreed. There wasn’t much else for me to do right now, so an opportunity to ask the zonkey some questions piqued my interest. Mikaella, however, beat me to the punch as we entered the stairwell.

“Is Willow Wisp a friend of yours?” she asked.

Though we had experienced some rough spots, I answered yes.

“So are you just helping her, way out here in the Valley?”

“I hired her to take me to Brayton Rouge, actually.”

“Oh, I see! She knows her way around the area?”

“She really does; I’d be lost without her help. Or, more likely, I'd be gator food.”

Mikaella raised her brows. “I know how that feels… being lost, that is. I spent most of my life cooped up, and out here in the real world I still get turned around so easily. There’s just so much… everything!” She considered her next words for a moment as she opened the door leading to the second floor. As she looked to roll the thought around in her head, her ears tilted from side to side. “So many places to go. The world’s supposed to be so massive, and I’ve barely seen any of it!”

“There’s not much of it left worth seeing,” I stated, coming off more pessimistic than I had intended. Seeing Mikaella’s ears droop a bit in disappointment, I tried to bring the topic back around to her. “Where did you grow up so confined?”

“You didn’t see this?” As we meandered down the hallway, Mikaella turned her body so I could see her left flank. Indeed, I hadn’t noticed a distinctive brand that was seared into her hide, resembling a stylized flowing wave. My blank stare prompted her to smile tersely. “Probably a good thing that it’s not familiar to you. I used to belong to Mirage.”

I recalled that Bertha had mentioned Mirage before, a location on the west coast of the region. “Mirage. That’s a city, right?”

We had stopped in the hallway. Choosing a door at random, Mikaella had begun to open it when she gave me a curious look in response to my question. “Okay, so you definitely aren’t from around here.” I shook my head. “It’s a city inside the Neigh Orleans ruins, mhm. It was a cruise ship during the war, got washed ashore, and then became a pleasure city. It’s almost as big as Divide!”

It was then that the first night spent in Divide came back to me, and I remembered how I’d first heard of Mirage. “Willow Wisp’s brother is indentured there.”

Mikaella stopped halfway under the threshold. She glanced back at me with surprise in her eyes, which quickly morphed into pity. “Oh. Oh, that poor colt…”

Once again I had brought down the zonkey’s bright mood. “... You should probably talk to Willow about it when she’s feeling better.”

“I will.”

The room Mikaella had decided to investigate was identical to all the other rooms I’d peeked into. There was a single window that, in another time, would’ve overlooked the parking lot. The furnishings were simple, including a bed, desk, chair, and a narrow closet. The walls were an unremarkable off-white color, while a single painting hung across from the bed, depicting an idyllic coastline and a lighthouse. Mikaella threw open the window blinds to fill the space with hazy outdoor light. “Wow, I love it!” she approved.

I couldn’t see what had raised her spirits back up so quickly, but now knowing that she’d been property at one time, the ownership of a room must have been exciting. Mikaella hung her saddlebags inside the closet, propped her quarterstaff against the wall, and then leapt onto the bed, bouncing as the mattress squeaked beneath her and a cloud of dust was launched into the air. As she settled into the soft sheets, she sighed in delight.

“Seems… clean?” I offered. In truth it was quite dusty, but that seemed a small price to pay in exchange for no visible blood, mold, or insects.

“Clean and full of free space!” Mikaella sat up, looking around at the walls. Struck with inspiration, she pulled a small, battered metal sign out of her bags, an advertisement for VimVam featuring the ornate logo superimposed over a sparkling bottle of their cider. The sign was placed against each wall, on the side of the closet, propped up atop the desk, and on the inside of the front door. Anywhere she put it, Mikaella couldn’t seem to decide where it would look best.

“Well, I can figure it out later!” She left the sign on the desk, and then turned to me with a smile. “Hey, since I answered you… where are you from?” She quickly added, “Also, I like your clothes; I’ve never seen ones like those before!”

Smoothing out the front of my robes and ruffling my wing slightly, I answered, “Thanks. I’m a Steel Ranger Scribe from Equestria.” I was more comfortable sharing my story now, and my conscience seemed totally fine trusting a half-zebra with it. “I came here in an airship with a team to find a Stable. We were attacked, and that’s when this happened.” My ruined wing stump was extended. “I was left behind, and now I’m hoping to catch up with them in Brayton Rouge. Willow Wisp has been my guide through Mulisiana so far.”

Mikaella’s eyes were wide and her ears perked up as she listened. Even after the brief summary of my plight, she had a multitude of queries that I addressed, providing more specifics about the people and places I’d met and visited, the scrapes I’d been in, and about my allies. She was also enthralled by my descriptions of Equestria, prodding as far as she could about the cities and creatures that existed in the north. She had no prior knowledge of the Steel Rangers, though she quickly connected them to the Chosen of Gaia as soon as power armor was mentioned.

I likely would have been answering questions for the rest of the day had our discussion not been brought to a halt by the arrival of Zero and numerous tribals. He seemed to have been giving them a tour of the hotel, and as he peeked in he saw some of Mikaella’s belongings placed around the room. “Claim yourself a room already, Mika?” Zero asked.

“I did, it’s perfect.”

Zero smiled in amusement. “Excellent. Listen, could you help us get some folks’ stuff carried in and upstairs?”

Mikaella eagerly trotted from the room, while the tribals continued on down the hall. With nothing else to do, I volunteered to assist Mikaella, but Zero halted me at the door.

“Quillwright, before that…” He reached into one of his jacket pockets and pulled out a necklace, which he held out to me. It was woven around a small black stone just like the one he was wearing, cut in a slightly different shape. “You need to put this on.”

If he was expecting me to object, he was correct. “Why?”

“It’s a ward. The Institute has scrying stones hidden all over Mulisiana, and this necklace will make you practically invisible to their sight.”

I stared at the necklace, which didn't seem suspicious at all. “What interest would the Institute have in me?”

Zero gave one humorless chuckle. “Honestly, Quill, consider it. You set a single hoof inside Stable 56, you’re immediately going to become a pony of interest to them.”

I squinted. “But not enough to be snatched up?”

“Firstly, you wouldn’t have any memory of it if you were. Secondly, the Institute is incredibly cautious; they don’t take any action that could be even remotely seen as unnecessary or as a risk to their organization.” He set his jaw. “And those reasons aside, I ask that you wear it if you want to rest in the hotel with our tribe tonight.”

Reluctantly, I accepted the scrying ward and secured it around my neck. Just like the voodoo necklace, I couldn’t feel any energy emanating from the stone. It probably never works that way, but who knows. Zero thanked me for complying, and with that we followed after Mikaella.

The carts that the Hayvenites parked in front of the hotel were loaded with crates, luggage, barrels and sacks of all manner of items, from food to weapons to clothing. Close to thirty tribals had arrived with Mika, and they ranged far and wide in age and species. An elderly griffon shorter than Teensy, a pair of young donkey twins, and a zebra ghoul were among them, all of whom thanked me as I helped them haul their personal effects indoors. The older and the less-able tribals were housed in spare first-floor rooms, while those who were physically fit were content to travel to the floors above to find their own accommodations.

A few of the new arrivals took up work in the kitchens right away to cook us an early dinner, which came together primarily in the form of steaming pots of jambalaya, a recipe I'd learned when working with Bertha. Food was ready by the time we had gotten everyone moved inside. Tables were pulled together to form rows within the dining room, and I found myself seated across from Zero as we ate.

The jambalaya consisted of rice, vegetables, and what tasted like diced gator meat. Like many other local dishes I’d tried, it was quite spicy, though not nearly close to the heat level of Bertha’s gumbo. As the flavors settled in my mouth, I concluded that it was my favorite Mulisianan specialty yet.

“I left Willow Wisp a bowl,” Mikaella informed us as she dropped wearily into a seat next to me, her own serving clutched in her hooves. After taking a couple bites, her ears flattened and she growled in clear frustration. “Ugh, I wish I knew how to treat her properly!”

“One thing at a time, Mika,” Zero admonished. “You’re still learning stick-fighting from Xura, aren’t you? Once you’re adept with your staff, you can focus on learning alchemy and botany.”

Mikaella propped her head up with one hoof while she stared intently into her half-eaten dinner. “I’m good enough with it. You didn’t see me take out those synths in the Trash Heap, I was as good as Xura!”

“I saw enough of your wounds to know you aren’t on her level yet.” Seeing the zonkey’s mood darken at his words, Zero shook his head and elaborated, “You can’t rush these things, Mikaella. If you’d have missed a strike or sprained an ankle and fallen, you would’ve been killed without hesitation.”

“But I didn’t and I wasn’t!”

Based on the tone each was using, this was clearly not the first time this argument had arisen between them. I was stuck uncomfortably staring into my empty bowl to stay out of the fight, though I chanced a brief glance at the two, who were glaring at each other.

“That’s not an excuse,” Zero stated. “That staff of yours is not worth taking any risks over.”

That upset Mikaella greatly. “ ‘That staff’ is the first real thing I’ve been able to actually create and own in my life!”

Sighing, Zero rubbed his temples. "I know, Mika. But you’re a Hayvenite, and that means I’m responsible for keeping you safe.”

“I’m not a filly, Zee. I can look after myself," Mikaella huffed. "You'll have to accept that sooner or later." She stood from the table, taking her bowl. "I'll be in my room."

Once the zonkey had departed, Zero gave an exhausted groan. “I’m sorry you had to suffer through that, Quillwright.” I didn’t know how to respond, so I pursed my lips and idly flicked through screens on the PipBuck until Zero moved to another table.

I listened as he and the other Hayvenites discussed the hotel and their future plans for it. The first order of business was properly furnishing and restructuring some of the rooms, primarily to establish a dedicated clinic. Next up would be outer defenses, though what materials should be used for a surrounding wall couldn't be agreed on. Third was the matter of where and how crops would be planted. The hotel pool was proposed as a plot for tarberries, and the method required to destroy the concrete parking lot in order to plant rows of corn, soybeans, and wheat was debated. I also heard VimVam Land mentioned in those same talks; it seemed the tribe was interested in harvesting many of the plants native to the park for their own use.

Zero described the VimVam filling station in Martingale and plans were arranged to soon visit it and destroy its cache of biofuel. Lastly, there were also questions and proposals on how to reduce or remove the fog surrounding the hotel. I heard mention of both fans from Divide and wards as potential solutions, though a consensus couldn’t be reached as half of the tribe had yet to arrive.

Mikaella had shut herself inside her room, leaving only to check on Willow Wisp. Soon, I too retired into an empty hotel room to record what I’d learned of the Institute and catch up on some Daring Do. The light though my window faded and as evening set in, I switched on the PipBuck lamp to read by. Soft radio music was the only sound in my domain for some time, until Zero knocked at the door. Answering it, I was asked to come downstairs.

As we descended the stairs, I became aware of the murmuring of voices below, louder than dinner had been. Entering the lobby, it was clear that the rest of the Hayvenites had finally arrived. What must have been close to sixty creatures were spread throughout the room, though a dense and particularly vocal group was congregating around where I had moved the couch yesterday. Close to them stood Haywire, who was splattered with blood and bits of insect, including a tattered goremoth wing that had been pasted to its flank with ichor. The machine entity was thoroughly cleaning itself with a magical aura the same color as the glow from its eye sockets.

Catching glimpses through the crowd, I saw that there was a pony or donkey that had been laid out on the couch, their body splashed with dark blood. Numerous healers were attending to the victim, including a lithe zebra mare who was calling for fresh bandages. Mikaella hovered very close to her, observing and offering help. I didn’t realize I had stopped following Zero to gawk at the scene until he called my name and snapped me out of my trance.

We trotted across the lobby and into a small conference room. Several creatures were present and speaking inside, but wrapped up their conversations as Zero and I entered. One remained, however: a pony mare with a soft pink coat and a mane that was a swirl of violet, rose, and gold, interspersed with silver streaks. Her age must have been close to Zero’s.

“Ah, you must be Quillwright.” She spoke with a gentle and matronly tone, one that matched her maturing features. Once we were closer, I took in more of her appearance. She was clad in silky black robes, radigator tooth earrings hung from her ears, and numerous decorated necklaces rested against her chest, including a scrying ward and a red jewel that looked very reminiscent of the one in my voodoo necklace. Yet one detail above all rooted me to the spot: a pair of wings were folded at her sides, with feathers the same shade as the one worn around Zero’s neck.

“I am,” I responded, barely able to pull my eyes away from her wings. “And you are…?”

“It’s good to meet you, dear." The pegasus mare’s face broke into an easy smile. "My name is Cadance. I’m the former Director of the Institute.”

Author's Note

If you'd like to read a short side story that stars Mikaella and takes place not long before Of Shadows, then you may enjoy Jaws of Steel!