Bright Willow stared incredulously at his reflection in the pond, running a hoof down his face. With how unbelievable it was that he was restored, he’d nearly convinced himself that the nightmare of the past few days―including the yawning inferno which had swallowed everything in the mines―had never even occurred.

But then he recalled awakening from a horrific, stinging agony, one which made him feel as though his insides were tearing, and finding himself in front of the Sapphire Mines. After restlessly searching for his wife all through the night, overturning boulders with strength he never knew he had and stepping over unrecognizable bodies which made him heave, he ran off into the forest hoping against hope she’d be there.

In the back of his mind he knew she’d never left the mines, and it wasn’t until he’d screamed himself hoarse and his feeble legs had no strength left in them that he simply cried. He cried until sleep took him. He solemnly hoped Gobrend at least took that kind-hearted filly with him when he escaped.

“Amber…” Another tear welled within his eye, spilling to the earth as Bright Willow hung his head. His grief was interrupted, however, when the buzz of dozens of wings shredded the ambience above the treetops, headed in the direction of the destroyed mines. Bright Willow’s heart fluttered, the earth pony filled with hope as what was likely a gryphon rescue team had come to save him and the others.

He excitedly bolted after the sound, tripping over his chains and crashing into the dirt. Not to be deterred, he laid one of his shackles against a sizable rock and smashed it with his hoof, the thing snapping. He did the same with the other, rolling his hooves and grimacing at the grotesque burns the metal had left behind on his fetlocks. Bright Willow ran, fueled by the promise of salvation.

As he approached the clearing the fire had blasted into the Ravenwood Forest, he was confused to discover no one there. He looked around, not exiting lest he be attacked by remnants of the Sapphire, fearing he had mistaken the sound of flyers in his addled state. His ears drooped. The awful smell of ash and seared flesh caused the pony to retch, but just as he was about to turn around and brave the forest in search of the nearest town, a shadow danced in the light of the morning sun, followed by two more. Soon the ground itself hypnotically shifted with the silhouettes of airborne figures.

Bright Willow looked up, shielding his eyes as the sun reflected off the steel covering them. Twelve shapes descended, spears in hand, and Bright glowed with relief when he spied the golden-bull insignias emblazoned on the tangerine-hued tabards covering their armor: these were soldiers of King Greygleam’s Bison Company! He thanked his lucky stars, nearly stepping out of the brush, but decided against it when he noticed how guarded the Gryffonians were. He didn’t want to be skewered for surprising them, after all.

And so he waited. The soldiers above continued doing their rounds as those on the ground set up a perimeter around the entrance to the mines. Something about this situation struck Bright Willow as peculiar now that his mind was sobering from the initial flood of elation: Wasn’t the Ravenwood beyond the Coalition's territories? Why in Equestria were armed soldiers of this caliber the first to respond to this mess and not more traditional militia?

Now less enthused about approaching the gryphons than before, Bright Willow simply waited where he hid, watching as another dozen landed in the midst of the perimeter, the last dozen flying overhead. One of the Greygleams, this one wearing a distinctive red plume, barked out orders, those forming the perimeter lifting their weapons as those within spread out, gathering the remaining survivors and dragging them into the protected center.

One of the dogs who was lucid enough to growl at an approaching Greygleam had the butt of the soldier’s spear driven into his snout before he and another pulled him with the others. They were grouped separately, dog and pony, and even the deceased were piled into the perimeter.

What in Equestria…? The dogs and slaves were checked for weapons by one of the soldiers, who passed off anything with an edge to another, who tossed them into a pile as another began digging a small hole to toss them within. The plumed gryphon walked up to one of the dogs, asking him a question, only to have him spit in his face. He wiped the offense off his brow, staring at it for a moment before punching the dog across the muzzle. He said something else to the dog as he pressed his face into the ground, and the dog scoffed. Rolling his eyes, the Greygleam gave a command as he moved to the next, the dog being dragged off toward the pile of corpses as he hollered in fear.

Bright Willow’s eyes widened in terror. “By Celestia’s sun… What kind of rescue party is this?”

He began backing away as slowly as he could, careful not to alert the soldiers, when the fierce screech of a bird of prey pierced the air from above. Bright jumped before falling to the ground, making himself as small as possible. One of the Greygleams circling in the sky dive bombed through the trees, followed by two others, and returned to the air with a mewling pony in their grasp.

Bright took that as his cue to leave. And so he ran. He ran as fast as his legs would carry him, not stopping or looking back.

Gobrend stared into the mirror. His reflection stared back. Old, damaged feathers and dirty bandages littered the floor around him; his coat and plumage were scrubbed clean of anything resembling blood or detritus; his beak shined.

Gobrend slowly ran his palm over his face, putting down the scissors in his talons. He looked almost familiar, but something―so subtle that it was unmistakable in its loudness―had changed. Maybe it was deeper than how he appeared: Maybe it was how he now looked at himself.

So what was it?

After gazing numbly into the portal for a long while, Gobrend’s eyes finally settled on those of his doppelgaenger. His breathing hitched. It was as though he were staring into the sinister gaze of a prowling beast. Gone was the youthful, wide-eyed curiosity and wonder from times long passed, his eyes now hardened, dark and analytical. He had to admit they unsettled him. The body would recover, carry him to his next destination without protest. Somewhere deeper than the flesh, however, would forever ache.

Gobrend sighed, straightening as his good wing unfurled. His metamorphosis was complete.

He winced when a stinging jolt crashed through his nerves, his claw moving to his ribs. A week had passed since the incident at the Sapphire Mines, but his newest scar, courtesy of his good friend Mirth, still jeered at him unhappily with every disagreeable movement.

Letting out a shaky breath, Gobrend limped from the watchtower’s restroom into the bedroom. He carefully raised himself onto his lumpy mattress―the thing being a welcome change from stone floors and uneven earth―panting from the exertion. He let out a breathless chuckle. “Well put, good sir. Well put indeed.”

Gobrend rested his head upon the pillow, staring at the ceiling before something flashed in his mind. Slowly rolling over, he spied his old saddlebag near the nightstand. Gobrend weakly dragged it into his lap. His talons brushed against a copy of a Daring Do comic, the gryphon eyeing the thing for a time before he hesitantly set it aside, fishing for the notebook within. He glossed over its contents, his expression grim. He flipped the pages, happening upon a single anomalous flower which lowly glowed.

Gently picking the flower from the notebook, Gobrend stared at it in silence, allowing himself to be pulled into a peaceful haze by its hypnotic, ever-shifting luminescence.

That was how Eve found him when she opened the door. She frowned. “You’ve been out of the bed again, haven’t you?”

“It is in our mutual interest that I heed Mother Nature’s call,” he said, still eyeing the flower. Turning to her, he said, “Unless you wish to hold my hand as I take the harrowing three-meter toil to the lavatory.”

“Surprising that you’re competent enough to manage that without need of a roomful of servants, fop.”

“A shame there is not a whetstone in the world that would sharpen your wit to the same effectiveness of your sword, jouster.”

“Too bad there isn’t a bolt in the world that could pierce that slimy aura of conceit about you, you scrawny earth trampler!”

“And yet my conceit shields my ears to the ramblings of the loud, chest-beating hedge knight plaguing my room with her pretense!”

Before any more barbs could be exchanged, Brocarius knocked on the already open door, alerting the two gryphons to his presence. They continued glaring at one another as he stepped into the room. “Gobrend. I see you’re well.”

“I was until this maddening hen plodded her way in here,” Gobrend said.

“Keep talking like that, high-born, and I’ll give you another sufficiently-sized hole in your side.”

Ignoring the verbal joust twixt the two, Brocarius walked up to the bed, giving Gobrend a once-over with a critical eye. He raised an eyebrow, humming. “You clean up well, Gobrend. And that’s saying something since you were lugged in here like a leaking sack of rice not too long ago.”

Gobrend rolled his eyes, placing his flower in his journal. “You have all the subtlety of a burning hippogriff, Brocarius.”

“Gobrend, you blew up a Diamond Dog mine and somehow managed to get shot with your own crossbow. If anypony is giving out lessons in subtlety, it certainly isn’t you.”

Eve smirked at that, Gobrend fuming. “With all due respect, pony, if you and the scrapyard strumpet have nothing to provide me aside from your sterling personalities, then I would prefer my own company.”

Eve’s eye twitched at that. “I’m going to kill him, Brocarius. I’m going to kill him and I’m going to laugh as I do it.”

“Another time, Eve,” Brocarius said, patting her trembling shoulder. “As a matter of fact, Gobrend, we do have more to offer on this visit than our hurrahs at your speedy recovery―”

“Even if you are a cold-hearted brother killer,” Eve interjected.

Clenching his talons, Gobrend quietly said, “I didn't kill him, Eve.”

Eve scowled. “You didn't save him either. It should have been you, Gobrend.”

Gobrend flinched as if struck, but looked down, silent. Eve attempted to will him dead for a moment before snorting and turning her gaze elsewhere.

After a moment, the gryphon asked, “Why did you wish to see me?”

Brocarius tilted his head. “Certain… complications have made themselves known since your little confrontation with the Sapphires.” He pulled out a red gemstone, laying it flat on the table. “Activate.” At his command, the gemstone sprang to life, glowing a sinister shade of red which made Gobrend leap from his mattress, only to land in a heap of pain and loose feathers when his formerly bolt-acquainted side shot shockwaves of animosity through his body.

“What in… Tartarus… is that?” Gobrend wheezed.

“Seeing stone,” Brocarius answered. “Now shush, you need to see this.”

A three-dimensional hologram sprouted from the seeing stone, revealing a captured frame in time that made Gobrend’s eyes widen.

“The Sapphire Mines…” he whispered. “What are Fulryn’s soldiers doing there?”

“Nothing good,” Brocarius answered, furrowing his brows curiously at Gobrend. “And that means the suspicions of the High Council were correct.” Gobrend looked at Brocarius. “There is something rotten in the heart of Silvercrest, Grasstalon. The Diamond Dogs aren’t the only ones benefiting from the use of pony slaves.”

“...Why are you showing me this, Brocarius?”

“You know what it’s like to be a gem slave, Gobrend,” Eve said. “Don’t you want to keep that from happening to anyone else?”

“That’s none of my concern, Eve. I owe nothing to a slave, and the only Diamond Dog pack I had a quarrel with has been destroyed. There is no reason for me to remain here once I have fully healed.”

“You’re just going to ignore everything? Look, Gobrend! Does the fact that soldiers of the Coalition are in on this
not matter to you?”

“Well, what do you expect me to do!” Gobrend demanded. “I have no stakes in this twisted game of yours, Knight. Leave me out of it.”

“Gobrend,” Brocarius interjected. “If we don’t do anything to stop this, there will be countless more who suffer Green Springs’ fate.” Gobrend stared at Brocarius, his face that of stone. “You said you were visiting Silvercrest before you were abducted, correct? Well, what’s to stop you from being captured again the moment you step outside to resume your journey? You won’t last another year in Diamond Dog captivity, Gobrend.

“We both have the same destination in mind and we both are wary of the roads. Something tells me Silvercrest is central in what is going on here in Warg's Pass. With your help, we will put an end to this nightmare, and, should you still wish it, you will be free to go on your way when this is over. Besides―” Brocarius leveled Gobrend a steely gaze “―my friend died saving your life. You owe us.”

Eve nodded at that. “Damn right.”

Gobrend set his jaw as Brocarius extended a hoof. “So what do you say, Gobrend Grasstalon? Will you work with the Knights of Redemption one more time?”

Author's Note

End Chapter 2.

End Episode 1.