Fallout: Equestria - Of Shadows

Director.

That single title, regardless of the adjective that had preceded it, set my heart racing. Zero’s admission of having once served the Institute was one thing, but to now be face-to-face with someone claiming to have been in charge of the entire organization? I was already growing very excited, though I couldn’t help but also feel a little intimidated in spite of Cadance’s gracious and welcoming demeanor.

The fellow pegasus inclined her head. “I understand that you’ve been suspicious of Zero. I apologize for his discretion.” Her attention turned to my robes, clearly understanding what they represented. “You have many questions, I know. In the interest of helping you to trust both myself and those in my tribe, I will try to answer as much as I am able for you.”

The past two days were starting to make more sense to me now. Zero’s search for such a remote location, why he had remained so secretive, and why he wore a scrying ward. The Scribe part of my brain was going into overdrive at the opportunity ahead. I wanted answers, and Cadance seemed both willing and able to give me the most of anyone I’d met in the region so far.

Dozens of potential questions were prepared in a mental list. The first to be asked were, “If you aren’t in charge anymore, who is? And why are you hiding?”

Nodding in acknowledgement, Cadance gestured towards some of the chairs that surrounded the conference room’s table.

“Feel free to take a seat, Quillwright; the answer’s a bit extensive.”

While we went to sit down, I could hear some of the voices in the lobby growing louder. Zero had been peeking out at the clamor through the conference room’s door ever since he had led me to Cadance. Concern was on his face when he told us, “I’ll be back in a minute,” and slipped out, leaving us alone.

I took a seat across from Cadance, who swept her chair free of dust with a wing before lowering herself onto it. “First of all, I want to thank you for helping Zero. You weren’t under any obligation, and it warms my heart that you would extend a hoof to a zebra. This world is sadly short on altruism.”

I reasoned mentally that, at least at the time, it had simply been mutually beneficial to work with Zero when we’d both been in such a hostile environment. Regardless, I nodded.

“Also, I was told about your friend Willow Wisp and her condition. I promise that she’ll receive the best care we can provide.”

“Thanks. She really deserves the help.”

Cadance smiled. “Certainly. Now, for your answers…” She rested her hooves on the table in front of her. “Put simply, the modern Institute is fractured. I was driven out by a coup, led by a synthetic copy of myself.”

That was almost too far-fetched, even for me. “That… that sounds like a science-fiction story!” I scoffed. “Why and how would you clone yourself?”

“You see, Quillwright,” Cadance began, turning her hooves upwards. “I myself am a synthetic copy, the fourth since the original Cadance passed. She-- I-- was a professor at EIT before the megaspells. When the war began, we were put to work assisting the Ministry of Arcane Science. The projects we pursued with them were far beyond anything that science or magic had sought to engineer before.

“We also supported Equestria by making incredible strides in developing both mass teleportation spells and synthetic creatures, but our efforts couldn't bring a peaceful end to the war. We weathered the megaspells in our own Stable, and when the Institute of today emerged, I was the one elected to take charge. As we were unable to establish any contact with the Ministries in Canterlot, we resumed work in hopes that we might benefit any survivors of the war here in Mulisiana.

“Decades passed. We made great strides in researching means to eradicate both radiation and the mutations that we observed it causing over time. Hayven was rebuilt, the town where the college originally stood.” Cadance took a brief pause to brush back a few loose, graying strands of her mane. “Eventually I grew old and my body weakened. We had made considerable progress in developing synthetics by then, and in the interest of science and out of sheer curiosity, we attempted to create a younger copy of myself, complete with an imprint of my own memories.”

“I’ve read enough Captain Andromeda to know where this is going,” I commented.

This elicited a chuckle from her. “We would’ve done well to heed those stories, Quillwright,” she agreed. “I was the first synthetic pony the Institute created successfully. After that, it became commonplace for my colleagues to continue their lives via synthetic replication, which allowed us to maintain most of our accrued knowledge and our personality without worrying about age. There were some who opted to pass on naturally, but the majority wished to be reborn.”

“Wait, so you’re telling me you’re actually a synth,” I reiterated. When Cadance nodded, I asked, “Under your fur and hide, you’re all metal?” Frightening images of the dead machine in Magnolia Grove flashed in my mind, and I couldn’t help but imagine the pegasus before me melting away to reveal a shiny robotic skeleton. Instead, she laughed softly.

“No. The synths you are thinking of, like what Corbeau inhabits, were our first model, designed many years into the war. The problem was, no matter how realistic the fur and facade over the top of that frame, they were not convincing spies.” That statement came with an amused exhale, not quite a laugh. “With time we realized that we were going about it wrong; instead of starting with a machine and working our way up, we should start with a biological base and implant that with the technology and spells we required.”

“Then… you grew synths?” Even though I knew the image was silly, I couldn’t help but imagine a tree that sprouted mechanical ponies from its branches.

Cadance narrowed her eyes and fixed me with a look as if she was quizzing me. “Quillwright, if I may ask: how much do you know about changelings?”

For once I was almost embarrassed to admit that the majority of my knowledge on the topic came from fiction. There had been a few history books in the Citadel’s archives that I’d read which described the race, although they had never been the main topic and as such I recalled few specifics. If I didn't hold such implicit trust in Equestrian history books, I would've likely written changelings off as mere folklore. What I truly remembered instead came from Power Ponies comics and Daring Do novels.

In the world of the former, one recurring antagonist that the super-powered heroines faced was the devious Princess Pincer and her legion of drones. Instead of fur or feathers, they had black, beetle-like chitin and thin, transparent wings. Their mouths were lined with razor-sharp teeth, and from their heads gnarled horns sparkled with sickly green energy. Their Princess was a corrupted alicorn, which I thought explained how every changeling possessed both wings and horns.

The latter story, Daring Do and the Labyrinth of Lies, involved the titular heroine meeting a new, flirty rival who turned out to be a changeling. They were drawn to Daring by the intense love she had for her profession, and when traversing the mythical maze near the climax, their disguise was dispelled by a magical trap. Despite this revelation, the pair continued to work together until the end, where the changeling made a tragic but redeeming sacrifice which allowed Daring to escape.

Those sources had generally characterized changelings as selfish and parasitic. Through some sort of inherent ability, they could change their appearance to mimic other races or specific individuals, even outright replacing them at times. I reiterated everything I could recall, and Cadance nodded.

“The magic that changelings demonstrate is among the strongest I have personally ever witnessed. When taking on another’s form, a changeling is physically and audibly indistinguishable. As you can imagine, this would make them the most skilled spies a government could ask for.” She grew distant. “Equestria and the Ministries were fully on-board with recruiting changelings to assist the war effort by means of sabotage and subterfuge. When requested, however, their Queen refused in no uncertain terms, unwilling to risk the lives of her brood.”

“So you created synthetic ones instead?”

Cadance’s expression darkened. “We needed samples to begin the synth program. When the Queen would not help us, the Ministries didn’t try asking a second time. Their forces swept into the hives they had found, taking eggs and capturing any changelings who didn’t die fighting. The Queen and their species as a whole went into hiding, many of them here in Mulisiana. I hope beyond hope that some are still alive in Equestria and in other lands, but… I will likely never know.

“What the Ministry of Arcane Science and the Institute did to those who were taken-- what I did not prevent-- was horrific.” Cadance adjusted in her seat, leaning forwards to stretch her wings briefly. She looked unsettled. “Every day I wish I could undo it all. What a waste of lives.”

I ruminated on what she had told me so far. “Clearly the program succeeded, at least?”

“We grew them, utilized them, yes. For a short time we thought we had the key to forcing peace between our nations. What hadn’t been taken into account were the native changelings of Zebrica. You see, some hives there had developed a…” She tried to decide on the appropriate word. “... Symbiotic relationship between themselves and zebra societies.

“Together, with use of changeling magic and zebra alchemy, nearly all of our synths were rooted out within months. Equestria deemed the entire operation a failure. The Ministries’ hooves shuffled the Institute around, and we ended up under the yoke of Wartime Technology. Synthetics were shelved for the rest of the war, and instead we were put to work developing teleportation magic that could move entire squads of power armor into Zebrica at once.”

At this point in the story, Zero slipped back inside. Temporarily distracted, Cadance asked, “How is Cedar?”

“He’s in a bad way, but stabilized,” Zero reported. “He lost one of his cutie marks, along with most of the hide on that flank. Xurabi’s got him moved into one of the first-floor rooms for a blood transfusion.”

Cadance breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh, thank goodness. I’ll go visit him after this.” Zero took an adjacent seat while Cadance looked back at me, frowning. “Where were we again?”

“I still haven’t heard who’s in charge of the Institute.”

“Right. As I mentioned earlier, I am not the first Cadance, and I was not the last. It had been common practice for the elder to work alongside the younger copy until passing away naturally, which would double our collective brainpower in that timespan. My younger counterpart, who called herself Cadenza, well…” She shook her head. “I don’t know if it was a defect that occurred during her creation, an errant strand of DNA lost or a corrupted memory transfer, or if it could’ve even been sabotage, but…”

Leaning forwards, Zero spoke up. “She got it in her head that the entire population should be replaced by synthetics, whether they want to or not,” he said shortly.

Cadance nodded grimly. “She would not listen to reason. And beyond that notion, which she’s become obsessed with, she… doesn’t act as I would. Before I could raise my suspicions to the organization as a whole, Cadenza ordered my detainment. Suddenly I was the defective copy. The Institute fractured, with opposing sides forming around both of us.”

“It sounds to me like the copies finally developed a mind of their own,” I mused.

“I now believe that every artificial changeling we grew had a soul. Had they gone on to live without our influence, each would have developed their own hopes, desires, and unique personalities. Instead, the Institute forced each one to assume another identity, overwriting any sense of self they could have known.” Cadence looked down at her own body. “I have long wondered about who the changeling I now inhabit would've become otherwise. What she’d call herself. Her dreams. It all gets quite existential, but I've learned that I mustn't dwell on those thoughts.”

“So maybe Cadenza snapped?”

“She’s definitely not right in the head,” Zero cut in. “Thankfully, she’s been locked away far from Mulisiana, and all of Equus for that matter.”

I gave a questioning look. “So you’re not hiding from her? Was she banished, or…?”

“We are here in the Sunken Valley mainly to avoid the Chosen. That said… while I left the Institute on my own accord, we aren’t keen on letting my former colleagues here in Mulisiana know our exact whereabouts and plans.” Cadance pursed her lips, glancing sidelong at the door to the lobby. “When we are all more settled here, I’ll explain where Cadenza is. Now…” With a quick smile, Cadance indicated to me. “... Zero has told me what little he’s gleaned, but I would like to hear your story now, if you don’t mind sharing?”

After receiving so many answers, I didn’t mind. Beginning with my grandparents’ branding as Dashites, I took several minutes to summarize my foalhood, how I had joined the Steel Rangers, my time serving with them in Equestria, the expedition, the attack, and finally the journey that had delivered me here. Cadance listened intently throughout, only asking questions sparingly. Once she was up to speed, the pegasus leaned back in her seat, her expression one of satisfaction.

“I see, thank you. Now, I understand that you believe your allies are in Brayton Rouge right now, correct? And that’s where you’re heading with your friend, Willow Wisp?”

“That's the best lead I have, yes.”

Nodding with a grim expression, Cadance informed me, “I'd be remiss if I didn't warn you; the city has been hazardous for years, flooded and overrun with dangerous beasts. On top of that, we've learned that Gaia’s Chosen have recently occupied it. We don't know what they're up to, but it would be wise to stay away regardless.”

“What else can I do?” I demanded. “Where else can I go? My friends are there, and they’re my best hope of making it back to Equestria.”

Cadance placed her hooves together. “Quillwright, if you wish, you have a home here with us.”

This took me by surprise. “Here? Already?” I gave a soft whicker of confusion. “I barely know any of you; I’ve only helped Zero and even then it wasn’t much.”

“When Zero and I departed the Institute six years ago, we devoted ourselves to rebuilding Mulisiana with our own hooves. This tribe is one such effort, providing a home for the lost, for the homeless, the outcasts and downtrodden. We accept everyone we are able to and are stronger for it.” Her eyes implored me. “It’s a very dangerous world out there, Quillwright. We won't force you to stay or leave, it's entirely your decision. I think you'd find that you have a lot in common with us, though.”

“That's generous, thank you, but I can't just abandon my friends if there's any chance I can still help them. There are unicorns in our group, after all, and if they're going to run into the Cogs…”

“I understand, I simply ask that you keep the offer in mind. Should you, Luna forbid, not be able to reunite with your comrades, remember that we will still be here and you will still have a place within our tribe." Cadance rose from her chair, looking at Zero. “Now, unless you have a pressing matter, I would like to check in on Cedar.”

There was one particular, unsettling question that had burrowed deep into my brain during our conversation, one that I couldn’t stop thinking about. “I’d like to ask you something specific, when we talk again?”

“Yes, of course, Quillwright.”

Cadance and I left the conference room to visit the healers. Zero, meanwhile, joined the recent arrivals in the lobby to speak with them further. As we moved through the room, we passed by the couch, which now bore a dark crimson stain. Cadance gave a worried exhale as she saw it and picked up her pace to a trot, speeding up the already-short trip.

The injured Hayvenite, Cedar Grove, had been interred in a room that neighbored Willow Wisp’s. As we entered, we found the earth pony patient laid on his side on the bed, a mass of darkened bandages swathing his right flank. He groaned in pain while being tended to by Mikaella and the zebra that she had been assisting earlier, as well as a unicorn I’d never met. A concerned pony sat apart from them in the corner, rubbing his hooves anxiously as he looked between Cedar and a makeshift IV drip that was being assembled by the unicorn.

“Do you have everything you need, Xurabi?" Cadance asked the zebra, then looked to the unicorn who was telekinetically inspecting multiple needles. “Alabaster?”

The stallion in question was an effeminate, bespectacled unicorn with an off-white coat and a long mane that was a deep bluish-purple. “Uh, I think we have everything for the procedure, but…”

Xurabi was busy setting a large number of pouches, jars, and bottles filled with a wide variety of colorful herbal contents atop the room's desk. "The Black Bloodleaf supply is nearly gone. I should have enough for the transfusion but it would be prudent to stock up,” she informed. Her voice had the smallest possible hint of a foreign accent that I’d never heard before.

“I’ll inform Zero,” Cadance affirmed. “Anything else?”

“More light. While I can operate in dim conditions, that would require me spending more time on brewing appropriate concoctions, and so less time left for more important matters.” The blinds of the room’s sole window were open, but as it was dark out, the only sources of illumination were the unicorn’s horn and two lanterns on either side of the room. I switched on the PipBuck’s lamp function to help them while I was present, which earned a grateful nod from Xurabi.

While I had her attention for a brief moment, I asked the zebra, "Have you taken a look at my friend next door?"

"Not yet. Is there something urgent?"

Mikaella's tall ears perked up as she heard where the conversation was headed. "I checked on her, Xura, earlier today! She has swamp fever."

“Oh?” Xurabi replied while placing a well-used mortar and pestle on the desk. “And you gave her proper treatment, yes?”

“Painkillers, a cool washcloth, and water for her to drink. And I left her a bowl of jambalaya!”

Her mentor nodded, and then in a soft tone asked, “That is good, Mika, but perhaps something easier on her stomach would have been better?” Her head tilted. “Did you help feed it to her or just leave it on her bedside?”

“Oh-oh, um…” Mikaella stammered and her ears bent back in sudden realization. “You’re right, Xura, I’m sorry, I’ll go get broth for her right away!” With that exclamation, she dropped the saddlebag she had been pulling healing bandage rolls from and dashed out of the room.

Cadance couldn’t help but gently laugh. “You’re teaching her well, Xurabi.”

“She learns fast,” the zebra agreed. After assuring that Alabaster had everything ready to begin supplying Cedar with new blood, Xurabi accompanied us to Willow Wisp’s room. My Mulisianan guidepony was shivering as she clung to the bedsheets, her head still dripping with sweat. A half-eaten bowl of room-temperature jambalaya was on her nightstand. It didn’t appear as though she’d thrown up any of it, at least.

“What do you know about her illness?” Xurabi asked me as she took up the washcloth which had slipped from Willow’s forehead, having mostly dried out. “When did it begin? What have her symptoms been?”

I relayed the history of Willow’s ailment as best I knew, including her plunge into the quicksand and what she’d told Mikaella during their first examination. Xurabi settled onto the bedside as she listened, checking the unicorn’s temperature and re-dampening the washcloth for her. Following my recount and her own observations, she concluded, “Mikaella is right, this is swamp fever.”

“She said you knew how to cure it.”

The zebra healer watched as Willow gave a soft, pained cough. “I have treated it previously, yes. Whether we have all the necessary materials for a potion, I would need to check first.” Xurabi then stood and departed to Cedar’s room to continue sorting through the supplies the tribe had brought. A few minutes passed, and then the healer returned, her features solemn. “There is not enough Hope’s Root for brewing. I can extend her body’s fighting chance with what little I can offer now, but no more than that. She would be on her own to overcome this sickness, and I am afraid that with her unique circumstances she might not have the best odds.”

“Is there some way we can get more Hope’s Root?”

Shaking her head slowly, Xurabi admitted, “I do not know where it natively grows in Mulisiana, I am sorry to say. Perhaps it can be bought from Divide.”

It was then that Mikaella arrived with a carefully-balanced bowl in one hoof. “Sorry, I tried to be quick; no one had prepared any broth for dinner so I made some as fast as I could!” She placed the bowl on the nightstand and waved away a few wisps of steam that rose from it. “I hope I didn’t make it too hot…”

“Thank you, Mika,” Xurabi said as she glanced quickly at the contents. “That should be enough.”

I flicked my tail anxiously. “So what do we do?”

“When you are in the tribe and have a concern, you speak with the elder,” Xurabi told me, already cantering back out into the hall.

Mikaella beckoned me with a hoof. “Come on!”

For the next half an hour, I followed as Cadance, Zero, Haywire, Alabaster, and five other tribe members I didn’t know were sought out and assembled in the conference room. Mikaella invited me to sit next to her at the large table, and I found myself directly across from an unfamiliar female donkey. She was later in years, with her mane pulled back into a tight bun underneath a dark paisley bandana tied around her head. There was a chunk missing from one of her tall, black-tipped ears; I wondered whether the damage had been dealt by a bullet or by teeth.

Xurabi wasted no time in laying out the problem. “Since entering the Sunken Valley I have had very few opportunities to gather herbs and roots. Most of them are required to treat diseases and injuries but are low or have completely run out.” She gestured to me. “For instance, in examining Quillwright’s friend, I determined that we would need Hope’s Root for the cure, which we do not have enough of. In treating Cedar Grove’s injury, I will expend the last of our Black Bloodleaf supply.”

The jenny across from me spoke up. “Sounds like you’re needin’ to pay a visit to VVL, yeah.” Her voice carried an accent similar to Willow’s, though not identical.

“The nearby amusement park, correct?” Cadance asked. “Zero and I have discussed it earlier. It would be prudent to scout it out now, so that we can utilize it in the future.”

“Would we find what we need there?” Xurabi asked the donkey.

“Oui, they were cultivated there in années passées along with hundreds of other kinds of plants, they did. Somethin’ about the place’s soil, or the water, or maybe even the air… life grows more easily within than anywhere else in Mulisiana, it does.”

Alabaster chimed in. “Growing up, I always heard VimVam Land is where goremoths originally came from after the megaspells.”

“Many-many rumors surround it,” the jenny said. “The place was guarded back when my parents helped harvest from it, but those times are long past. Bloodsprites have probably moved in too.”

“We are immune to feeble insect attacks,” Haywire proudly proclaimed, standing near one of the far walls. “Cadance-Pegasus, allow Us to lead this journey.”

Cadance nodded. “Of course, Corbeau.” This earned her a clunky bow from the spirit-possessed machine.

It was Alabaster’s turn to speak up again. “Uh, if I may, I’d like to tag along so I can document every plant and herb we find growing in the park these days.” This earned several approving nods, leading him to address the jenny next to him. “Esmeralda, you’ve been to the park before, so you could show us around in there.”

Esmeralda shrugged. “Allie, I ain’t been to VVL since I was a foal; my memories of the place are très fuzzy, they are. The place has probably changed a lot in the…” She drifted off as she mentally calculated, her eyes staring at the ceiling. “More than forty years since we left Brayton Rouge, yeah?”

“All the more reason to return,” Zero stated. “You’d be perfect to get the crops back in order there, and oversee their harvesting later.” Another murmur of agreement from everyone followed that, and then a short silence.

“I’m coming too!” Mikaella told us. “I wanna help.”

Zero shared a quick look with Cadance, who nodded. “Very well,” he approved. “Who else should go?”

“With Alabaster leaving, I will stay to tend after our patients and to further arrange the clinic,” Xurabi stated. "I still have much to unpack."

A nagging temptation urged me to speak up. Ever since finding the filling station and the theme park’s brochure in Martingale, I’d been fascinated with this organization from the Old World. As a Scribe, it was hard for me to pass up any opportunity to learn more about the past.

"I could come along, too?" I offered, my statement morphing into more of a question at the end. My word drew the attention of everyone in the room, and Mikaella visibly straightened in her seat, presumably excited by the idea of getting to speak with me more on the trip. Cadance raised her eyebrows in genuine surprise.

"Really, Quillwright? You don't have to,” she told me. “After the close calls you had on the way here, you’re more than welcome to stay and rest.”

Giving a shrug and raising my left foreleg, I replied, "No, really, I'd like to. I have a PipBuck, which might come in useful, and honestly I wouldn't mind just getting to see this place for myself."

Reminded of my attire and my history, Cadance smiled and dipped her head, eyes twinkling in understanding. "Then your assistance would be welcome."

Following my proposal, there came discussion about whether five individuals would be an appropriately-sized group for a journey like this. Ultimately it was concluded that those of us who had volunteered were all very capable and that a small group could move more quietly. We stuck around in the room while the others left, gathering around a map of VimVam Land.

“Most of the crops were grown here, in the arboretum,” Esmeralda told us, pointing out illustrated rows of trees in one corner of the park. "Right next all that was a mock factory, modeled after the real ones where they made their wilt apple cider, yeah? That's where we stored our farmin’ tools.”

“Hope’s Root being one of those?” I asked.

The jenny nodded and scratched one of her ears. “It was, oui.”

“What’s this?” Mikaella reached over to tap the center of the park, where a familiar gear-shaped door was inset into a large artificial hill and underneath a massive tree. Roller coaster tracks wove in and out of the trunk and branches, leading me to believe it was as fake as the hill it grew out of.

Esmeralda answered, “A Stable, believe it or not. Nobody could ever unlock the door, so who knows if anybody lived in there.”

“What’s a Stable? I’ve heard of those before!”

While our curious zonkey was enlightened about the wartime shelters, I became very aware of the PipBuck on my leg. If the override codes within it could open Stable 56, which the Institute had some hoof in constructing, then surely I could crack open this one?

“You know…” I began, trailing off briefly as attention focused on me. “... I could probably open it. Maybe. If we had time?” I knew that the Stable was a distraction and that I should have been solely focused on finding what we needed to help Willow, but I couldn’t help feeling drawn to a mystery like this. If I didn’t open the Stable, who would? What if somepony was still alive inside?

Cadance spoke up to get my thoughts back on-track. “I’m afraid you won’t have time for detours, Quillwright.”

She was right. While VimVam Land undoubtedly held a trove of secrets and hidden history, every hour wasted meant Willow’s condition would worsen. My curiosity couldn’t take priority on this trip, as there was something more important at stake; I owed it to my unicorn guide. When I admitted as such, I caught Mikaella watching me intently. She gave a curious little smile but remained silent.

The discussion continued for another ten minutes as further details were ironed out, and we all made certain we could recognize the plants we were hunting for. Black Bloodleaf grew in clusters of dark, spiky, and fleshy leaves that resembled aloe vera. Hope’s Root sprouted oversized hibiscus-like flowers above the ground, their petals white and silky with a tall yellow stigma. In low light, they glowed very faintly, which tended to attract insects such as goremoths.

Once we were all satisfied that we understood the mission, Cadance concluded our meeting. “At dawn, we’ll get you all suitably equipped. Until then, get some rest.”

After managing to get a couple hours of sleep in my room, I woke to an alarm set on my PipBuck and joined the others downstairs in the room that now served as the tribe’s makeshift armory. Preparations were made for our imminent departure: Alabaster and Esmeralda picked out a bolt-action rifle and a sawed-off shotgun for themselves respectively, while Haywire loaded its saddlebags with plentiful ammunition and tools for harvesting or culling plants.

When I asked Mikaella about arming herself, she insisted that her quarterstaff was the only weapon she wanted or needed, sounding very dismissive of guns. The zonkey did slip into a set of leather barding, and while it was light and wouldn’t be of much use against bullets, our main threat would likely be insects, and their stingers would have trouble penetrating the armor.

I was able to acquire two full magazines for Riptide. When the others moved on to outfit themselves, I noticed a small collection of leg holsters. One fit Riptide almost perfectly and would keep the pistol within easy reach; when I asked, Esmeralda assured me that I could keep it.

Dawn in the Sunken Valley was darkened by a gloomy, overcast pallor. When we stepped out of the hotel, I expected to feel sprinkling rain but was met only by wind, which stirred the fog around us and allowed a few more yards of visibility. We were seen off by Cadance, Zero, Xurabi, and a few other tribe members.

Returning to the entrance of VimVam Land wasn’t a difficult trek, though I had to admit that now it felt strange to traverse the wilds of Mulisiana without Willow’s company. This time I was the one leading the group, using my prior experience with this stretch of the Sunken Valley and my E.F.S. to keep us on-track. Mikaella trotted next to me, her head on a swivel as she observed the fog and listened for danger. Behind us were Alabaster and Esmeralda, who were holding a quiet conversation about various tribe matters, and bringing up the rear was Haywire, its weapons ready.

Several times during the trek, Mikaella looked at me and took in a breath as if she was about to begin talking, only to remain silent. Finally, she voiced the question, “So is there anything like the Valley back in Equestria? Are there any swamps?”

“There’s one bog that I know of, but thank Celestia I’ve never been there,” I laughed, allowing a small relief of tension. The question I wanted to ask Cadance still weighed on me, so I was glad to take my mind off of it for now. “There’s also the Everfree Forest, which isn’t too unlike this valley. It's the only place where trees still grow in these numbers, but everything is twisted and unnatural. I've never entered it myself, and those who have are never seen again."

“I still can’t believe how many plants and trees up there are dead! What do you eat?”

“Lots of meat. Old food that’s still preserved, some small plants that can be cultivated in certain areas. The cloud curtain makes agriculture difficult, but not entirely impossible.”

“What’s a cloud curtain?”

The Grand Pegasus Enclave had not been mentioned in my description of Equestria provided to Mikaella back at the hotel. I took a minute to describe how the ponies up north had been separated between the surface and the sky, and what my grandparents had described the world above the clouds being like.

“Couldn’t a pegasus like you or Cadance just fly up and open the clouds?” The zonkey’s face immediately flushed and she apologized. “Er, sorry. I forgot you lost your wing…”

I waved her concerns off with a hoof. “It’s okay. I would’ve loved to let the sun in if the Enclave didn’t watch the curtain like bloodwings, repairing any hole that appears to keep themselves sealed away. To be honest, I don’t think any single pegasus alive today could ever open the sky; it would take an army.”

“Cadance would try!” Mikaella stated with certainty.

At the mention of the other pegasus’ name, I took the opportunity to ask, “Speaking of her, Mika… what do you know about Cadance? Did she tell you she used to be the leader of the Institute?”

“Mhm!”

“... And about her being a synth?”

“Oh yeah, both she and Zero were pretty open about that after we joined the tribe. 'We' being Xura and I.”

“Wait, ‘both’? Is Zero a synth too?”

“Yeah, did he not tell you that?”

That little bombshell caught me off guard, and I wasn’t currently sure what to do with that information beyond adding it to the mental list of things that the zebra had kept hidden from me.

"No, he hasn’t. You just believed them?"

"Well, I thought it was all a bit confusing. Xura trusts them though, and that's good enough for me!"

“Seems you’ve put a lot of faith in Xurabi.”

“She got me out of Mirage, kept me safe and taught me so many things already, so why shouldn’t I trust her?”

I shrugged. "I suppose that's fair."

We soon reached the intersection in front of the park. While I began to navigate us around the vehicle wreckage, Mikaella instead began to investigate the mound of twisted metal and wood, wanting to search for anything valuable. Esmeralda chided the young zonkey, reminding her that we were on a schedule and that everything valuable had been looted long ago.

Already halfway inside the armored motorwagon, I heard Mikaella’s muffled sigh of acceptance, and then a giggle. Once she had extricated herself from the overturned steel shell, she gestured to Haywire. “You know, we should’ve summoned you into a wagon like this one, hehee-haw!”

The synth standing next to me rigidly cocked its head. “Pray tell, Zonkey, what use could We possibly be when encased in such an awkward shell?”

“Well, you could, like…” Mikaella held her foreleg up horizontally, and then made a shoving motion. “Roll over enemies!” Her eyes widened. “Oh, and you could carry us places! Imagine how much faster we’d all get around, wouldn’t that be great?”

“We are not a vehicle.” After turning away and a moment of deliberation, it added, “The increased speed would be advantageous, however.”

While Haywire appeared to be in a speaking mood, I asked, "Say, Corbeau… Cadance summoned you, right?"

"You are correct, Pegasus." The words came without its metal head moving away from focusing on our perimeter.

Resolving Cotton Knit and Zola’s dilemma in Magnolia Grove had not normalized me to the experience of communicating with a supernatural entity. Even now, my pulse raced as I talked with what my fiction-loving mind compared to a haunted suit of armor. "Where were you before that?"

Haywire's head rotated ever-so-slightly with a quiet whir, angled just enough that I could see the glow within the empty eye sockets. "You presume We did not exist in this world before the ritual.”

A loud clang behind us halted the conversation for a moment. Everyone turned to see Mikaella standing over the door of the driver’s cabin, which had detached from its rust-bitten hinges during her inspection. Her ears folded as Esmeralda scolded her for making so much noise.

“Well…” I resumed my conversation with Haywire. “You’re a spirit, right? Weren’t you in an afterlife before they brought you here?”

"We are not the ghost of some deceased animal such as your kind,” Haywire corrected. “We are a hunter, one with experience far beyond that of mortals. Generations have invoked Us to aid in tracking quarry, be it a beast for consumption, a criminal to punish, or a secret to uncover.”

"Secrets, huh? I hunt knowledge for a living." I gave a little shrug, even though I knew the spirit wasn't watching me. "Maybe we could exchange some secrets we've learned?"

A pause. “What could you offer Us, Pegasus?”

I held up the PipBuck. “The story of a Stable, and the memories of an Institute synth?” Lowering the device, I added, “The state of the Equestrian Wasteland, the stories of the Ministries, the history of the Goddesses?”

An almost squawking grunt emanated from the machine. “Equestria does not interest Us. A synth's memories..." It dug a metal hoof at the ground. "If this knowledge could make Our vessel more effective, perhaps."

"Maybe we can make a deal later." Hopefully the tribe had a terminal which could help me sort out the fragments I had salvaged from the synth's corrupted drive.

During our talk, Mikaella had retrieved a plastic souvenir cup out of the motorwagon that was covered in VimVam Land colors and imagery. It was dirty, having been sitting in the wreckage for almost two centuries, but intact.

Esmeralda laughed. “What you got there, fille? Why’re you grabbin’ trash?”

“Ish not trash!” Mikaella placed the cup into her saddlebag. “I want mementos to remember all the neat places I go, and now that I have my own room, I can keep them all in there!”

I remembered the metal sign she had tried to find a location for in the room yesterday. When I brought it up and asked where it came from, the zonkey was all too eager to explain, “It’s from the Trash Heap. It’s a giant landfill south of us, miles and miles of junk hills all around. Stinks worse than anything I’ve ever known, but I found some cool things there too!”

As we neared one of the signs on VimVam Land’s corner of the intersection, I pulled the obscuring vines aside to view it clearly. On either side was artwork depicting two bipedal apple characters, with limbs that were little more than black lines and faces which stared at us vacantly. One of them was a shiny, healthy fruit with rosy cheeks and an affable expression, while the other resembled a wilt apple, with shrunken skin and dopey eyes. A speech bubble led from their mouths, filled by the words, “This way to VimVam Land!”

Mikaella came up to my side and studied the sign for a few moments. Just before I turned away to bring us down the road to the amusement park, she asked, “What does it say?”

Though I was slightly confused by the question considering how close we were to the sign, I read it to her.

“Got it, thanks!” Seeing the look on my face, Mikaella explained, “I, uh, I can’t read, hehe. I’ve learned most letters, I think, but I don’t really know what they say when put together, you know? Xura has tried to give me some lessons, but she hasn’t had much time to spare, especially since we joined the tribe."

A sense of excitement sparked within me, the likes of which I hadn't felt in months. When teaching the colt and filly Squires of the Steel Rangers, I took pride in knowing that I was imparting vital knowledge to them, lessons they would remember and use for the rest of their lives.

I truly loved teaching; seeing my students' understanding grow and develop was a reward in itself, and Mikaella reminded me of the foals I had educated back in Equestria. In her eyes I saw that same light, a desire to learn. In a way, I even saw a reflection of my own young eagerness.

"You know," I began. "I've actually taught reading and writing before. While we wait for Willow Wisp to recover, I could give you some lessons."

My offer hung in the air for a few moments before Mikaella's expression positively glowed with excitement. "Are you serious?" she asked. When I nodded, she grinned and bounced on her front hooves. “Wow, Quillwright, thank you! Thank you-thank you-thank you, you’re amazing!”

“It would be my pleasure!” I assured her, unable to hold back my own smile at seeing her enthusiasm. “I’ve missed the opportunity to teach.”

Mikaella’s pure joy had her nearly prancing. “I want to learn how to write my name first!”

“We can certainly start with that.”

VimVam Land’s front gate was a huge, flashy arch that had once been composed of gleaming silver and green metal, with a large version of the company’s logo attached at the top. Below was an alternating row of ticket booths and rusty turnstiles that had once funneled visitors into neat lines. Since the megaspells, the center of these organizational measures had been ripped out to allow for unimpeded passage. The gate was draped in a long curtain of overgrowth, with crude graffiti covering both bases, though most of this faded art had since been obscured by smears of green paint.

A sign affixed to the side of one of the ticket booths caught my interest, listing items not permitted in the park. Ranked above firearms, knives, and illicit substances were “Sparkle~Cola drinks, merchandise, and employees.” Someone had underlined that line with paint and written “Because we’re not insecure AT ALL” around it.

After passing through the arch, we found that several small trees had been planted recently on either side of the path, as if hoping to recreate the alley in front of Magnolia Grove. Many were still saplings, and the earth around the base of their trunks was recently disturbed, only broken by sparse shoots of grass.

“I thought the park was abandoned?” I voiced aloud. “These look recent.” Willow wasn’t here to confirm my suspicions, but Esmeralda spoke up instead.

“It’s probably been almost a decade since anyone from Divide or Brayton Rouge last visited, yeah.”

“So who would be maintaining this place?”

Mikaella’s ears perked up as inspiration flashed in her eyes. “Ooh, maybe someone who used to work here before the war? And now they’re a ghoul!”

Esmeralda shook her head. “Honey, there weren’t no ghouls livin’ here back when we helped run it.”

“Could be one of the Chosen,” Alabaster mused. “For all their faults, they do love planting trees and flowers.”

“But how could they have gotten here?” I wondered. “I was under the impression that they couldn’t find this place. If they have, then your tribe’s new home isn’t safe.” Surely they would've left some evidence of their presence in Martingale?

The unicorn frowned. “That is true…”

Haywire stepped up to us, raising its metal chin. “We shall seek out the answers inside. Prepare your weapons, animals.”

As we entered VimVam Land proper, the ground beneath our hooves transitioned from unremarkable, weather-beaten concrete into an exquisitely-laid brick street. Through the cracks poked vibrantly-green shoots and blades of grass, and at regular intervals unseen roots pushed their way underneath the road to unlevel it like a bunched-up carpet. I stumbled once or twice on the bumpy surface, as did most of the others. Soon the wind’s strength increased and the fog appeared to thin out a little, allowing us perhaps another five yards of visibility. The air around us smelled lovely, a combination of fresh rain and the sweet fragrance of a bouquet.

We moved at a steady, careful pace. Behind me, I heard Alabaster telekinetically pull out the park map and unfold it. By the time he had it fully open and ready to study, we had been halted by a railing that curved into the fog on either side and separated us from a thicket of flowers and weeds. I could just barely make out towering, dark, and unmoving shapes beyond the railing, rising out of the plants.

“This should be where the statues are,” he informed us. Gathering around the map, we followed his hoof as he tapped out our location. “To our right is the gift shop, left is a cafe, and there’s more as we head down the street. We’ll pass through this section,” he guided our eyes through an area labeled ‘Ride Zone’. “Then after that is the arboretum and bottling plant.”

“It’s too bad it isn’t closer,” I said, peering around us at the surrounding opaque veil. Every once in a while I heard the rise of a rhythmic drone not unlike that of cicadas, but it was faint. We had neither seen nor heard any goremoths yet, but I was starting to grow uneasy. After the quicksand incident, I had a feeling the insects enjoyed biding their time to strike until their prey were in dire straits. Provided VimVam Land was mostly solid ground like the brick we currently stood on, I had to wonder what dangers beyond giant bugs might be present.

Remembering the potential presence of a chimera in the Valley, my eyes flicked down to my threat-empty E.F.S. and my holster-bound foreleg rose up slightly. I hadn’t tested how quickly I could draw Riptide, but with Haywire and the others backing me up, some slight delay hopefully wouldn’t get me killed.

Esmeralda did a little stretch and breathed in deep, nodding towards the direction we needed to travel. “Just stay together and try to keep things quiet.” She then eyed Mikaella knowingly. “Got it, ‘lil Mika?”

“Got it, Es,” Mikaella groaned.

Trotting down the street saw us subconsciously draw closer to each other as the dimly-lit fog around us swirled and the calls of birds and insects echoed from the unknown surroundings. The overgrowth was intensifying quickly, not only further ruining the winding brick street but also reaching out at us from either side, having overwhelmed once-pristine hedges. Occasionally we would find ourselves close enough to a building to view flowery vines practically oozing out from around door frames and through cracked windows. Mikaella was delighted to find more plastic souvenir cups littered about, but every one she picked up was in worse shape than the one she’d already stowed away, so they were tossed aside.

The buildings and storefronts that flanked us soon disappeared and were replaced by sporadic signs. Each one advertised some sort of nearby ride or attraction that was out of our sight, and were placed right next to a set of railings that I assumed was the start of a queue line. Some of these signs were legible, some were completely obscured by greenery, and some had collapsed after years of neglect. I was able to discern signs for a ferris wheel, a roller coaster, a log flume, and a lazy river.

We followed the map past several of these and two intersections. We were making uninterrupted progress towards the arboretum when another sign came into focus beside us, its color visible enough to catch Mikaella’s attention. As we reached it, her hoof pulled back the veil of plant life to show artwork depicting a pony in garish VimVam-branded power armor firing streaks of crackling green laser beams at a cringing, villainous-looking zebra.

In a font that looked dubiously similar to that used in covers of Captain Andromeda comic books, the ride was designated “ZEBRA BLASTER!”. On the other side of the queue entrance was a highly-degraded fiberglass model of one of the apple characters, who held a placard informing visitors that the ride was “Great for foals!”

Mikaella looked appalled at the image of the zebra under attack. “What’s this?”

“Some kind of game, maybe like target practice,” I informed her. Our exchange halted the rest of the group momentarily, before I added, “... For foals to play, apparently.”

This elicited an outraged snort of confusion from Mikaella. “That doesn’t make sense!”

Speaking up behind us, Haywire observed, “When waging a war, is it not intelligent to begin training your soldiers early?”

“Soldiers?!” Mikaella’s ears folded back in anger. “They’re just colts and fillies! They shouldn’t be taught to shoot creatures just because they look different!”

“Warfare is fought over more than appearances, Zonkey,” Haywire stated. “A common enemy is the greatest uniter. If you do not share an opponent naturally, make one.”

“... Wasn’t the world supposed to be better before the megaspells?” The tone in which Mikaella asked the question struck me as completely genuine, not sarcastic. I felt sad for her at that moment, as if her expectations of our civilization’s history had been ruined.

I spoke up, “It wasn’t necessarily better, just… people were more polite. Or at least, they were more concerned with appearing polite.”

“It’s one of the sad facts of life, Mika. Now c’mon.” Esmeralda beckoned for us to continue.

Mikaella stared fixedly at the apple character, who returned her attention with its eerie eyes and artificial expression of glee. Finally, she muttered, “Something’s wrong with this place.”

Back on track, we found that ahead the brick road was broken apart by trees that had sprouted up from the cracks. What little sunlight filtered through the fog above us diminished even more as we now entered a lush grove. Peering around, I could see that most of the trees bore wilt apples. Woody wisteria vines spiraled up the trunks and around branches, while the ground was obscured by a patchwork of large leaves, ferns, and mushrooms. Most plants looked to be growing bigger than I had observed elsewhere in Mulisiana.

There was a new path which guided our way, faintly visible as a line of well-trodden grass, leaves, and branches. We all silently exchanged a look, seeing yet more evidence that someone else was recently present in VimVam Land. Haywire maintained the lead position in our marching order, its head on a swivel. I too remained vigilant, and was soon alerted by multiple neutral ticks which slowly popped up on my E.F.S. Each one was still, but regardless I called for us to halt, my voice low.

“I’m picking up signs on my Sparkle,” I hissed. Rotating my head, I explained that the indicators were spread out in clusters and were everywhere in front of us.

Esmeralda put a hoof to her mouth and pointed upwards, causing all of us but Haywire to glance up at the tree trunks which ascended into the fog. “Sleepin’ goremoths,” she whispered back, her rough voice straining to remain quiet. “Let’s keep it down from here on, yeah?”

Now considerably more on-edge, we resumed our trek through the flora. Once or twice someone caught a hoof on a root and stumbled, but we avoided making any noise louder than shuffling leaves. The ticks on my E.F.S. only multiplied, until I was certain there were hundreds of the large moths clinging to the trees above our heads. I envied Haywire’s complete lack of fear, as well as his metal body.

Eventually we witnessed a red brick wall emerge from the fog and trees ahead of us. As the trail we followed circled around the structure, we could see that it was the side of a large, squat building, and once at the front we confirmed that this was the mock factory. The arboretum it overlooked was now buried as the plants grew completely out of control. We wordlessly took in the mess of green that no longer resembled an orchard even remotely, with no rhyme or reason to where anything grew. There were, at least, very few goremoth-bearing trees in that area.

Esmeralda nodded, murmuring, “I assure you it was less helter-skelter back in my day, it was.”

“How will we find what we need?” I asked.

“We’ll just have to search row-by-row.” The jenny peered down at the path we’d followed, indicating that it led to the factory entrance. “Mika, could you check inside the factory and make sure we won’t be interrupted?”

Mikaella nodded, but looked at me first. “Can I have Quill help me?”

I agreed to assist, and so the group split up. Alabaster and Esmeralda took a trowel and clippers into the overgrowth, with Haywire protecting them. Mikaella and I cautiously approached the front doors, which creaked open louder than we would have preferred.

The entrance of the factory housed a showroom, the floor a once-pristine marble. Dim gray light suffused the space, filtering in through cloudy skylights. In the center of the room was a large circular dais upon which rested a contraption unlike any I had ever seen. It resembled a cross between a steam engine and a motorwagon, resting atop four wheels. A cowcatcher jutted from the front of the vehicle, balanced out by what must have been a great engine that sat in the rear. A brass funnel arose from the center, though it may have been an exhaust of some kind. Numerous knobs, switches, and dials covered the engine’s side, while wires snaked from glass valves.

Dozens of candles lined the dais beneath the vehicle, most long since burned down into a formless blob of wax. The wall to our right opened up into what looked like a souvenir shop with a counter and shelves containing dusty tchotchkes. To our left was a hallway underneath a sign reading, “Begin your nonpareil tour here!” A lone lit candle was set in one corner of the threshold, beckoning us to follow, next to a wreath of flowers.

We both stood still with our hackles raised, considering the situation and what we should do. Mikaella spoke up first.

“What do you see with your magic thing?”

My E.F.S. still registered dozens of neutral tick marks thanks to the resting goremoths outside. “I can’t tell,” I admitted. “The place could be empty, or…” I bit my lip. “Should we get the others?”

“We aren’t unicorns, so if these are Cogs we won’t be in danger right away.”

“So that’s a no?”

Mikaella gave a brief sigh. “I know Es means well, but… I think we can handle this.”

“Okay.”

As we cantered into the left hallway, we were quickly greeted by a brief history of the VimVam brand, which was conveyed both in painted murals and metal plaques. It lined up with what I had read in the brochure back in Martingale, but with more detail and even more praise for the Skim Brothers.

The exhibit shamelessly extolled their wisdom and ingenuity, boasting how the pair had graduated from EIT with “indubitably high marks”, which came off as rather dubious to me. Their discovery of steam power did not first manifest in motorwagons, as the pamphlet had skipped ahead to, but instead was tested in agricultural tools and smaller mechanisms. One of these items, which was still encased within a nearby display cabinet, was an automatic mane brusher. It looked more like some kind of archaic torture device.

Although they were largely responsible for the first breakthrough in steam power, Flim and Flam had not been involved in adapting the power source for use in trains. Motorwagons had reportedly been an idea the brothers dreamed up the first time they had taken a ride inside of a carriage as colts, and were what they considered to be the pinnacle of ground transportation. This led into the invention we had seen back at the entrance, which was known as the “Super Speedy Cider Squeezy Six Thousand”. The verbose name was praised as iconic in its first mention, but I noted that every subsequent mention of the vehicle shortened the name to just “The Squeezy”.

Envisioned as a mass-producible farming machine, the Skim brothers drove the Squeezy to Equestria for a test run with healthy apples. It was there that the story began to grow more vague, simply stating that the first orchard they found gave them valuable feedback on the Squeezy’s capabilities and limits. Returning to Mulisiana, Flim and Flam continued to improve their creation, but now with the intent of making their home’s infamous wilt apples into something not just edible, but delectable.

It was here that a window appeared to show us a room beyond that resembled an apple orchard, lined by several plastic trees complete with gray, shriveled wilt apples hanging from the branches. The scene inside was only barely visible because of more lit candles. Mikaella cupped her hooves around her eyes and peered inside.

“I don’t see anyone inside, but there is an open door in the back, behind everything,” she murmured.

Beneath the window, more of the narrative continued. ‘Some say that wilt applies were the result of a curse from the last zebra shaman to leave Mulisiana, after the donkeys prevailed against them centuries ago,’ one sign read. ‘Unfounded as this legend may be, it is correct in one way: these fruits were a bitter, disgusting blight upon the land for untold years.’ It went on to describe how normal red apples simply could not grow in Mulisianan soil and scientific theories as to why, and also noted that multiple campaigns to eradicate wilt apples had all resulted in failure.

We moved to the next window, through which we observed a larger chamber. In the center were large, metallic kettles and fermenters, as well as stacks of barrels. Numerous pipes ran along the walls and in-between all the different equipment, once again illuminated by candles. As my eyes took in the machinery, trying to make sense of where everything started and ended, a shadow passed along the side of one shiny metal tank. I gasped and dropped beneath the window quickly, Mikaella following suit shortly after.

“Someone’s in there right now,” I breathed.

Mikaella scrunched her brows. “What’d they look like?”

“I couldn’t tell, it was too dark.”

Very cautiously, the zonkey rose up to the corner of the pane, holding her tall ears down to minimize her visibility. While she tried to ascertain what we were dealing with, I couldn’t help but notice this section’s sign, now right in front of my face.

‘Though Flim and Flam’s ingenuity, however, we can now enjoy wilt apples as though they still grew as red and healthy as those in Equestria. All it takes are a few secret ingredients and the right know-how!’

“I don’t see anything,” Mikaella informed me. “But I believe you.”

“You still want to stay and take our chances with whoever this is?”

She tilted her head. “We’re capable. Aren’t we?” When I hesitated, Mikaella added, “I really don’t think we have anything to worry about if they’re a Cog. The others, Alabaster and Haywire… well, they might make talking harder.”

That was a good point. There were still no hostile marks on my E.F.S., so this individual could hopefully be reasoned with, but I still felt uneasy about the situation. I indicated Mikaella’s staff. “Alright. You lead the way, Miss Close-range.”

“Glad to!”

We crept forward, staying beneath the window should the mystery figure still be in the factory area. Near the end of the hallway, we encountered an “employees only” door on the same wall as the windows. Mikaella gently tested the door handle, finding that it was unlocked, and glanced at me for the go-ahead. I made sure Riptide’s safety was off, and then nodded.

Once we had slipped inside, we found ourselves in an industrial hallway with vents and pipes running along the ceiling. It soon split, both towards the room where I had seen the figure and away. The air around us smelled very musty, with the faintest a hint of apples and something pungent and chemical. Two candles led us in the direction of the cider-making room, their glow shimmering across the shallow puddles of condensation that collected on the floor.

The next door had been propped open with a broom, and the two of us paused before passing through to listen. I couldn’t sense anything, but Mikaella seemed to be concentrating. “I can hear them,” she whispered. “Somebody’s humming a tune and moving around.”

“Just one somebody?”

“I think so.”

“Then let’s go say hello.”

The interior of the faux factory was larger than I had perceived through the window, with metal catwalks above us on either side which provided access to the tops of the huge fermenting tanks. I wondered whether any of them had been functional once or if they were just for show. Small carts and barrels had been pushed to the sides of the room, and I noticed that there was an open toolbox near the base of one metal tank. A wrench was still clamped onto one of the thick bolts that kept the whole thing fixed to the floor.

At this point we had almost reached the center of the room, and I could now hear the humming with my own ears. The tune reminded me of hymns I had heard sung to the Goddesses, and it was being expressed with a wistful tone. It didn’t take long for us to find the singer, who came into view as we rounded a massive cask. They had just stood from doing something on the floor, then turned in our direction and froze.

She was a unicorn mare, staring at us like we were ghosts. Her white-and-teal mane was matted and unwashed, with long, frizzy bangs and two thick and clumsily-tied braids. At the base of her horn was one of the iron inhibitor rings Willow had told me about, flecked with rust as though it had suppressed her magic for many years. The filthy, torn, and ratty white-and-green robes that covered her body were just like the ones I'd seen the condemned preacher in Divide wearing, and by extension, quite like mine.

The unicorn stumbled back several steps, tripped on her shredded hem and fell onto her rump. Wide, incredulous eyes darted between us with a desperate fervency. “You… a-are you real?” she whispered hoarsely.

Mikaella, clearly concerned, was the first of us to respond. “We are, don’t worry!” She approached slowly, then extended a hoof. “We’re very nice creatures, it’s okay. I’m Mikaella!”

“Are you a Cog?” I asked cautiously. Perhaps she’d scavenged the robes from a corpse and was using them as protection from the elements. Only now did I also notice that she had a knife sheathed upon one of her forelegs, which prompted me to urge Mikaella back slightly.

The mare regained her composure after I spoke. Setting her jaw, she ignored my zonkey companion’s offer of assistance and rose shakily. “I am one of Gaia’s Chosen,” she corrected, trying to calm her breathing.

Mikaella’s head tilted. "But… you're a unicorn!"

"No!" the Cog mare objected, looking almost offended. "I am a unicorn no longer. By Gaia's grace, I have been unburdened from magic and returned to Her pure embrace."

"So if you're not a unicorn anymore…” Mikaella shrugged. “You’re, what, a horned earth pony?"

"My kind are known as the Penitent."

"I see! Okay, um… what's your name? What are you doing out here?"

"My name is Daisy Chain." The unicorn-- or Penitent, apparently-- looked up at the ceiling, then closed her eyes. "I am but a humble servant of Gaia, preparing this site for fellow Chosen to worship and marvel at Her creations."

"All alone?"

Daisy Chain shook her head, voice quavering slightly. “My allies’ souls live on through the trees I planted above them, and with Gaia, I am never alone.” I raised an eyebrow and was about to express that, yes, she was quite alone here, but Daisy spoke first. "I must ask, have either of you accepted Her light?"

I shook my head. Mikaella shrugged and offered, “I don’t think I’ve ever been offered it?”

"So you do not believe."

This prompted me to explain, "I mean, I believe in the Goddesses, Celestia and Luna, but I've never heard of…"

"The False Sisters?"

This took me aback. “What?”

“You are being deceived,” Daisy Chain told me. “Their lies are widespread, and so I cannot blame a victim like yourself.” After a moment, her expression brightened and she asked, “Why did you come here? Perhaps Gaia led you to this sanctuary so that you could learn to serve Her too!”

Mikaella and I exchanged a look. I answered, “We’re here to find a plant that could help a sick friend of mine.” Reminded of the huge, sleeping insects just outside the factory, I added, “I don’t know if I’d call this place a sanctuary.”

“Oh, the goremoths! Not to worry, they mostly fly at night.” Daisy pursed her lips as if she’d just recalled something important. “... Mostly. Oh, and the grass that grows here is very edible!” She seemed to have relaxed a little bit, and finally looked away from us to pick up what she had been working on before our encounter. It was a wreath, made up of twisted branches and flowering vines. “Did you travel here on your own? I have been working to convert this building and the space outside into a place of worship. It is… difficult with only one set of hooves, but Gaia gives me the strength to persist and the peace to live alongside the goremoths.”

“We have friends with us! Don’t worry, they’re nice folks,” Mikaella reassured her. The same thought was likely running through both of our minds simultaneously: how would Daisy react to Alabaster? Images of the fearful Cog trying to wield her knife flashed before me when Mikaella looked at me. Her brief, tense expression told me she was on the same track. “What now?” she mouthed silently.

Daisy was fiddling with the wreath as she continued on, “It is not safe outside of this site. You and yours are welcome to stay in this refuge, provided you will listen to Gaia’s truth.”

I decided to stall so that we could think up a plan to handle the situation. “It’s very dangerous, indeed. How’d you end up here?” I asked, while looking into Mikaella’s eyes and trying to nonverbally express to her that I wasn’t sure. The zonkey shifted in place, then mouthed, “Get Esmeralda?” I nodded at that.

“This old-world resort has long been sought by the Chosen,” Daisy began to explain as she went over to one of the nearby fermenters, hanging the wreath on a protruding gauge. “A great number of expeditions have been arranged to seek it out. I am blessed beyond words that Gaia led us successfully.”

Mikaella quietly stepped out of the room while Daisy was distracted. To keep her talking, I prodded, “The Chosen have tried before, even knowing the Valley is a deathtrap?”

“Our Protectors’ armor is powered by a special fuel. I do not fully understand how, but this place holds vast reserves which will keep our forces moving and manifesting Her design.” Daisy Chain looked back at me, her eyes gently closing in reverie. “It was truly an honor to be selected for an expedition. Lowly Penitents such as myself rarely get the chance to contribute in such a meaningful way.”

I marveled at how dedicated this mare was to her cause, even if she was delusional. Just as I was about to ask her how Penitents normally aided their cause, her eyes opened again and flicked to the vacant space beside me.

“Where is your friend?”

“She…” My head turned to glance around as if I was surprised. “... Must have gone to check on our friends,” I explained. “She'll probably be back soon.”

Daisy just nodded, now seemingly transfixed on me, or rather something below my face. I tried to follow her gaze down, seeing nothing unusual on my chest or forelegs, and when I looked back up she had moved much closer to me. Before I thought to back away, she had raised a hoof and touched the sleeve of my robe. “These clothes are beautiful,” she said, voice awed. “Where did you acquire them?”

I sensed that some part of her wanted to ensure that I wasn’t a hallucination and that I wouldn’t vanish when she looked away like Mikaella had. Still, she had gotten uncomfortably close. I gently removed her hoof and took a step back, telling her, “They’re what some members of my order wear.” If the Chosen of Gaia are descended from Steel Rangers, what does that make me to them?

“What is your order called?”

A moment of hesitation, and then I answered, “The Steel Rangers. We’re based out of Equestria.”

“I have read of your kind, our forebears. Without your guiding hooves, Gaia’s truth may have been lost to history.” There was a new, clear reverence in Daisy Chain’s expression and voice. To her, I must have seemed like an ancient legend come to life. “You are of the Lost, but like myself chosen by Gaia to build Her new kingdom!” Fervency was rising in her voice. “Your allies are also Steel Rangers?”

“No, they… yes, I do have fellow Rangers here in Mulisiana. I was separated from them a week or so back and I’m trying to catch up. These people I’m with now, they’re assisting me in that task, and you can trust them.” Hopefully I could keep Daisy from resorting to violence during any confrontation that may be about to happen.

The Chosen Penitent lowered her head. “As you say, Miss…?”

“Quillwright.” This borderline adoration from Daisy gave me some hope that the rest of my expedition would be treated well if they had encountered Cogs in Brayton Rouge. I couldn’t help but ask a question that had been on my mind since learning about the Chosens’ beliefs. “Say, Daisy, I have a question about magic.”

“What of it?” Daisy Chain looked a little dubious.

“I know that Gaia’s Chosen… uh, disapprove of unicorns because they can cast magic. The thing is, from what I understand, both pegasi and earth ponies also possess magic. It doesn’t manifest in the same way, since we can’t cast spells, but we still have a connection to Equus through it.” I shook my head. “So why are unicorns the odd ones out?”

“It’s simple, really. Your magic is natural, magic cast from a horn is arcane. Arcane magic is aberrant and destructive, able to cast or create spells that cause pain, death, and harm to the planet.” Daisy whickered. “I did not understand this until Gaia chose me to serve Her. Without my horn, I now feel closer to Equus, and I am free of the temptations that it burdened me with.”

“That makes sense, I suppose,” I said. “So any creature can follow Gaia, so long as they give up their horn if they have one?”

While I asked my question, Daisy Chain had begun moving towards the entrance of the room, extinguishing her candles as she went. I followed, and she told me over her shoulder, “Anyone but the Deceivers.” When I asked for clarification, she went on, “Deceivers are creatures able to mimic others. They feed on their emotions, manipulating ponies into servitude or infighting. Every Voice of the Goddess has commanded that Deceivers be eradicated, for those who live through deceit cannot be trusted.”

“We’re talking about changelings, right?”

“Yes, the spawn of the False Sisters. Their betrayal after the creation of Equus nearly killed Gaia, and the depths of their treachery twisted their forms into monsters.”

This was all too much. Daisy Chain spoke as though she had spent her entire life studying her religion and expected everyone she met to thoroughly know the terminology. Every answer she provided conjured more questions that I wanted to ask, even if I didn’t put any stock in her beliefs. It wouldn’t hurt to know the basics about Gaia if the Cogs were encountered in Brayton Rouge, at least.

By now, we had reached the windowed hall that led back to the front showroom. Daisy trotted with purpose, not opting to speak unless I asked her anything.

“Where are we heading?”

“I would like to see your friends, and then show you the place I call home here.”

If she went outside and met our magical companions, the risk of waking goremoths was likely. I needed to keep her inside until Mikaella made it back with Esmeralda. Once we had reached the main room, I pointed out the Super Speedy Cider Squeezy that rested in the center.

“Say, uh, have you thought about trying to get this thing working again? Maybe it could safely transport you out of the Valley!”

The Penitent paused, looking back at me, and then over at the old machine doubtfully. “I know nothing about machines. Besides, I would not want to leave this place; all I must do now is wait for more Chosen to arrive, when the next expedition is sent.”

“Well, you see…” I stalled. If Daisy knew nothing about machines, maybe she didn’t realize the Squeezy ran on steam power. “... This is powered by the same fuel that your Knights-- er, Protectors-- use for their armor. So if you gave it enough juice, you could get it back to Mareami, and I’m sure it would be useful for the Chosen to study.”

Daisy Chain had stopped fully, turning to furrow her brow at the harvester. Taking slow, careful steps up close to it, she inspected the wheels, the pipes, and dials on the side. “You think this would still function, after all this time?”

I held up my PipBuck. “Stuff before the megaspells was built to last.” It wasn’t a complete lie.

“You have a point.” Daisy took a step back, craning her neck to observe the funnel on top of the Squeezy. “Gaia bless you, Quillwright, you are clever. I hope you would help me to get it running.”

Before I could answer, we heard the front doors creak. Spinning in place, we saw as Mikaella stepped back inside, her ears going rigid as she noticed how close we were to the entrance. She reacted quickly, though, locking eyes with Daisy and chirping, “Hi! Quill’s fun to talk with, isn’t she?”

Daisy Chain began, “We’ve discussed much…”

As Mikaella stepped inside, she revealed that Esmeralda was following close behind. “Bonjour, there,” the jenny called out to Daisy Chain. She approached with a big smile. “Good to meet a new, friendly creature way out here in the sticks, it is!”

Daisy glanced at me, then Mikaella, and then back to Esmeralda. “Yes, I… do you know of Gaia, by chance?”

“Oh, yeah-yeah-yeah, Gaia and I go way back, we do,” our donkey friend boasted. “I pray to her every sunrise and sunset, thankin' her for my wonderful life and all the blessings she bestows upon me.”

This did not appear to be the response that Daisy was expecting. Caught off-guard by how forthright and devoted Esmeralda was claiming to be, she responded, “You… the, uh, I am heartened by your faith! Truly, She has guided you here to join me in building a wonderful sanctuary for all believers!”

Esmeralda walked right up to the Chosen and clapped a hoof on her withers. “About that. Gaia told me there’s been a change of plans, there was. You see, it turns out this place, here, was built by a couple of unicorns, and so the ground’s tainted by their spells, yeah?”

“What?” Daisy Chain’s face, which was fixed upon Esmeralda’s, twisted into confusion. “N-no, I am certain She has ordained this site be converted into holy grounds.”

“It’s more work than a lone Penitent and a couple of us can accomplish, it is.” The jenny began leading Daisy Chain towards the exit. “Until then…” Esmeralda then gave a quick nod to Mikaella.

The zonkey mare rapidly advanced. Ducking low, she spun and swept the legs out from underneath Daisy with one quick, trained movement. The Penitent fell to the floor with a shocked exhale, and Mikaella was atop her in seconds, pinning her to the floor.

Esmeralda had retrieved a rope from her saddlebags. Daisy began to struggle, shouting, “What is this?! You cannot interfere with my calling!” Her attempts to escape from underneath Mikaella were fruitless, and soon her front and rear legs were bound.

“Apologies, ma’am, but I don’t actually know jack about Gaia.” Esmeralda stood from tying the restraints. “And you may think that you know her, but it’s a load’a hogwash those Cogs brainwash every Penitent with. We’ll help you get over it, we will.”

“No…!” Tears began welling up and spilling from Daisy Chain’s eyes. “No, you’re heretics! Gaia’s truth must be heard, Her design must be followed!” She looked at me, crying desperately, “Quillwright, save me! You of all creatures should join Her Chosen!”

Would this have been me if I was stuck entirely on my own in Mulisiana? Desperately clinging to the hopes that the Goddesses would deliver me from death by any number of hazards between here and home?

“Sorry, but I think this is for the best,” I admitted. My words wrote clear betrayal across Daisy’s expression. She took in a deep, shuddering breath to start another holy tirade against us.

“She’s not gonna shut up,” Esmeralda groused, rolling her eyes as the accusations and pleas began. She revealed a very short-cropped mane as she pulled off her bandana and gagged Daisy Chain with it. All it did was muffle the shouts as she continued to try and scream through the fabric. “Don’t want her to wake up all the goremoths, no.”

“We’re taking her with us, then?”

Esmeralda nodded. “We’ve got to, yeah. If we leave her here, she’ll just go crazier. If we let her run, she’ll die in the Valley, and if by some miracle she could make it out alive, she might be able to direct the Chosen back here.”

“Surely you’ll have to imprison her in the hotel?” I asked, thinking of the many unicorns I’d seen in the tribe already. I couldn’t imagine she’d abide living with any of them.

“We would for a time, oui,” Esmeralda confirmed. “But we’ve de-converted Chosen before. It’s a long and arduous process but worth it. We can learn valuable information about Mareami and their plans from those who’ve denounced the cult.” The donkey studied Misty Fen as her legs were bound and she was placed onto Haywire’s back. “I don’t think a Penitent will know much, but it’s for her own good, it is.”

Mikaella and I hoisted the restrained Daisy Chain onto Esmeralda’s back, and then we left the factory. Alabaster and Haywire joined us again, the unicorn’s saddlebags brimming with plants. When the Chosen saw him and the possessed synth beside him, her eyes went wide with terror. She struggled against her bindings, screams muffled by the bandana in her mouth.

“Our culprit, apprehended,” Corbeau hissed.

Alabaster looked pained as he saw Daisy Chain’s horn. “Don’t worry,” he murmured. “We’ll have that inhibitor out soon. We’ll heal your mind, and then help you relearn your magic.”

Daisy Chain looked like she was about to pass out.

We backtracked through VimVam Land and returned to the Hayvenites with little difficulty. Daisy had put up a fight at first, writhing atop Esmeralda’s strong back all the way until we exited through the amusement park’s arch. From that point on, she went limp and listless, seemingly resigned to whatever fate she imagined she was in for.

Zero greeted us at the hotel’s entrance and escorted Daisy Chain down one of the first floor hallways. The rest of us found Xurabi within a large suite, now converted into the tribe’s clinic. Alabaster unpacked everything we had brought back, and I watched intently as he floated out a delicately-trimmed Hope’s Root flower, the petals gleaming in an almost pearlescent manner in the space’s light.

Xurabi noticed my fixed gaze, and let me know, “I will begin to treat Willow Wisp as soon as we have everything sorted out.”

“Thank you.”

Next to me, Mikaella shifted on her hooves, visibly excited. “So, now that we’re back…”

I turned to her, smiling. “Let’s teach you how to write your name.”

Footnote: Level Up.

New Perk: Earthly Teachings, Rank 1 - You are learning more about Gaia and her followers, and gain +1 Charisma when speaking with the Chosen. Hopefully you won’t need the advantage.