Salt and Sapphire

Saiph

The night was deceiving in its calm. With so many in harmonious acceptance, it was as the stars in the sky, both distant and familiar; it was under this facade that Saiph and her companions traveled, under the watchful gaze of their moonlit heiress.

Having returned to their unit splintered from the rest of the caravan, they were ordered by Vega to perform reconnaissance near Grainstone in order to confirm the testimony of the old Solar in the woods. And so they searched. Their scourings brought them closer to their destination, and yet they had come to a stop at a most unusual resting point.

“What do you make of this, Perichot?” asked Lilac Cross as he observed the dried fetishes hanging from the trees as leaves sprouted in spring.

Perichot’s mouth was a thin line, the thestral observing the sordid display with an air of stoic detachment. “We’re close,” he responded.

Saiph gaped at the macabre showings: effigies, skeletal paws, scuffed trinkets and the occasional straw doll made quite the impression on the mind of the young pony. “This… This isn’t right...”

“We have a mission, Saiph,” said Perichot. “These are nothing more than distractions. Keep your head on straight and we’ll get through this. And hopefully we’ll find the others.”

Saiph dryly swallowed, huddling closer to her superior as Vivid Root and Lilac Cross vigilantly watched for hostiles. “Yes, sir.”

Perichot’s gaze softened at the young scout’s unease. “You’ll be okay, Saiph. We’ll be okay. But you need to focus, alright? I need to know you’ll have my back.”

Saiph nodded, squaring her withers. “I will, Perichot. You can count on me.”

“I wouldn’t have you on if I didn’t think I could,” he said, smiling. Saiph smiled back, feeling already more confident.

“So what do you make of the old coot’s words?” asked Vivid Root. “Think it’s a set-up?”

“Of course not, Viv,” said Lilac Cross, a bored expression on his face. “I’m sure there’re going to be party streamers and cake and maybe even a kiss from the princess herself if we’re lucky.”

Vivid Root gave him a sideways glance, furrowing his brows. “...Are you being sarcastic?”

“No, I’m being optimistic.”

Vivid Root looked at Saiph questioningly, and she patted him on the shoulder encouragingly as she fought back a chuckle.

“Stay focused, you three,” said Perichot, stepping over a broken spear. “Even if that stallion’s story turns out to be a tall tale we’re one step closer to learning about what’s been going on here.”

“But why would anypony lie about their own son being foalnapped?” asked Saiph, frowning. “That’s not something a father would do.”

Vivid Root snorted. “You kidding me, Saiph? You think a Solar wouldn’t stoop so low if it meant hurting one of us?”

“I don’t know, I just… He came to us of all ponies for help. There was genuine concern there!”

“That’s what you get for thinking too much.” Vivid Root shook his head. “He’s rotten, I’m telling you. This ain’t even about his son, if he even exists. Our own come first, period.”

“We made him a promise, Vivid!”

“Perichot made him a promise; and he promised him that we’d bring him his little zealot back if we bumped into him searching for the others. That’s if he’s even alive.” Vivid Root glared at Perichot. “I still think you should’ve just told him to shove off.”

“Noted,” Perichot said.

The rest of the journey was spent in relative silence. The only signs of life for the next two days were the scarce birdsong echoing in the distance and a lonely, vine-entangled watchtower stoically sentinelling the Ravenwood.

Eventually, Grainstone Peak was looming over them, a great earthen lance which pierced the dark clouds above. As they approached, Saiph felt herself grow sick in the stomach. Broken weapons and chains littered the field leading to a wound in the base of the mountain. The surrounding forest had been razed to the ground, leaving behind the scorched husks of trees and a sticky, metallic odor that clung to the inside of the nostrils and stung the eyes. Saiph’s coat stuck to her skin, the air noticeably more humid around the mouth of the cave.

“What the buck…” murmured Vivid Root, taking in the grisly scene with awe. “Did a dragon blow through here?”

Saiph gulped when she rubbed the dirt off a discarded helmet, her eyes widening when she caught sight of the emblem etched into it.

“You smell that?” said Perichot.

“Yeah,” said Lilac Cross as the two inspected the cave entrance. The unicorn tried powering his horn, only for the magic around it to sputter and fade. “Ashflake.”

“That would certainly explain the lingering effects of the blast. But what in Luna’s name happened here?”

“Sergeant!” called Saiph. “You’re gonna want to see this!”

Perichot looked at Lilac Cross before shrugging his wings, the two trotting to see what had the rookie so riled up. Saiph trembled as she held up a helmet engraved with a shimmering gemstone.

“The Sapphire!?” Perichot exclaimed. “So this was their base?”

“Ashflake got them,” said Lilac Cross. “Must’ve ignited it while mining.”

"No, there's evidence of foul play here. All of these discarded weapons? They were fighting a rival pack when it went off, I'd say. Then, boom. Anticlimax," Petrichot responded.

Saiph shook her head. “That can’t be the whole story. Everything’s too… clean.”

“What else could there be to this, Saiph?” Perichot asked, taking the helmet from her and rotating it in his hooves. “I can’t see anypony altering a scene as grim as this in the middle of nowhere. There’s no motive.”

“Well…”

Vivid Root, who had approached in the middle of the conversation, kicked a wild animal’s skull across the clearing. “Yeah, fresh blood, you’re overcompensating it. Ain’t a thing we can dig up from what we’re seeing here.”

Saiph’s ears perked. “Hoh my gosh, Vivid, you’re… you’re a genius!” she said, scooping him into a hug.

Vivid Root blinked. “I am? I-I mean, of course I am!” As Saiph began pawing at the ground around the site, he nudged Lilac Cross, asking, “Uh, what’d I say exactly?” Lilac Cross shrugged.

Saiph smirked, having heard the question. “You’re absolutely right that what we’re seeing isn’t giving us the full picture.” She patted a patch of the ground, her smile widening. “But if we dig a little deeper…”

The other three thestrals gave each other sideways glances.

It had taken them a few hours, much of it spent fruitlessly unearthing empty patches of dirt and the odd forgotten gem, but just when Perichot was about to call the endeavor off as a waste of their time, Lilac Cross came across a discovery: a tattered Heartland flag. The thing was in poor condition, the once regal print with its two proud bulls being torn near in twain, blood spattered across its surface.

Saiph’s eyes dilated as horror dawned upon her.

“The gryphons have been here,” Perichot observed, his face that of stone.

“Why?” Lilac Cross asked.

“Do you think they had something to do with what happened here?” Vivid Root’s tail lashed restlessly. “I knew those feather-headed bastards were up to something!”

“Keep yourself calm, Vivid,” Perichot ordered. “The dogs probably killed them and buried this here to cover up their tracks.”

“Why the hay were they here in the first place, Perichot!? You gonna tell us the gryphons care about ponies? Those winged rats would sell their own kin for two scallops and a silver nugget!”

Saiph chimed in, running her hoof along the fabric. “M-Maybe it was preemptive. They were worried about the diamond dogs coming to their territories.”

“Then why aren’t there more here?”

“They could be the ones who blew up the mines,” Perichot said. “After their friends went dark, they assumed the worst and came to clean up house.”

“I thought the dogs’ rival pack did that,” said Lilac Cross, staring into the abandoned mines.

Placing a hoof onto his head, Perichot sighed. “There’s too much we don’t know to piece this… whatever this is, together. Anything could have happened before the explosion or after. But whoever was left buried this flag, hoping it wouldn’t be found. Or maybe they did. We don’t know! Whoever did this is long gone, and they’ve taken the answers with them.”

“So… all this was just a dead end,” Saiph said, her ears flattening against her head. “I’m sorry, sir.”

Vivid Root patted her on the shoulder. “Yeah, this was a big waste of time, but at least we know whoever toasted these flea-bags has the full story, eh?”

Saiph’s head lowered even further, the mare trembling.

“Vivid!” Perichot growled.

“What?” Vivid Root said, confused.

Lilac Cross stepped in front of Saiph. Placing a hoof under her chin, he gently lifted the mare’s head so that she was looking him in the eyes. “You did good, kid.”

Saiph gave a half-hearted nod, smiling as she raised her hoof to wipe at her face before any tears had the opportunity to spill. She was a soldier, for Luna’s sake! Feeling sorry for herself wouldn’t save Teal Gulch and Jadalaque. And if they were no longer in the hunt… tears wouldn’t bring them back.

Before she could say anything, a branch snapped in the foliage. Everypony snapped into defensive stances, staring out into the trees. The trees stared back.

Out of the woods a number of shadows slithered out into the clearing, the forms of diamond dogs skulking toward them, cautious. Many more eyes peered from behind them, eerily quiet.

Lilac Cross charged magic into his horn, only for it to fizzle and die out. At that moment, Vivid Root latched onto the stallion, attempting to hoist him into the air with wings that flapped uselessly. He crashed into the ground. Vivid scrambled to his hooves, staring at the encroaching dogs with fear in his eyes before readying himself. Perichot’s expression was grim, but he did not give an inch.

Saiph closed her eyes, offering a small prayer to the Mistress of the Night, as her heart pounded in her chest. The dogs surrounded them.

Sister Dawn

The sun was peeking over the horizon, its pinkish rays shyly yawning over the land and chasing away the overcast of yesterday. Sister Dawn smiled. Just outside the church, in a small garden, the sun’s rays always shined at their most brilliant. She spent every morning here, dazzling the foals of Brighthaven with the divine tales of Equestria’s founder and savior, the Herald of Light, Princess Celestia.

These chronicles were passed down from vicar to vicar, dating back to the Exodus. Here, they were free. Here, they were safe. They owed an eternal debt to Griffinstone for their aid in their arrival, nearly one thousand years ago.

As Sister Dawn finished her latest story, a stallion adorned in the white robes of the Choir walked next to her and whispered something into her ear. Sister Dawn nodded, not allowing her smile to slip in front of the foals, who still watched her with that wondrous innocent curiosity only those so young could have.

“My little ponies, thus ends the tale of Crystal Drift, Shield of Light and Burner of Shadows. So great was his will, his faith, that he stared into the eyes of Tyranny herself and yielded not. Such strength rests within each of thine hearts, for thou art the golden children of the Chosen Path.”

The foals cheered, laughing amongst themselves as they made their way into the church, several of them stopping to nuzzle Sister Dawn along the way, nuzzles she happily returned before urging them on. Watching them go, Sister Dawn’s smile widened. How she adored the youth.

As she tended the flowers in the small garden, each raised by her and the vicars before her, her ears perked. The hoofsteps of somepony, their beats distinctive as the gait of an old, weary stallion, approached.

“I thank thee for joining me, Cinder Quilt,” she said, turning to the old stallion. “Twin blessings upon thee.”

The old stallion bowed his head. “Dawn and Dusk, Sister Dawn.”

“Knowest thou the reason thou’rt summoned to the Garden of Eden?”

“Yes, Sister Dawn.” There was a tremble in Cinder Quilt’s voice.

“So the gravity of this most sacred of places is not lost upon thee?”

“No, Sister Dawn.”

Turning her blindfolded gaze upon him, she said, “I could have thee pressed. Or hanged. I could excommunicate thee from the Chosen Path and have thee remov’d from these walls of Brighthaven for thy treachery…”

Cinder Quilt trembled, a trail of sweat forming upon his brow, but he held his head up high. “Will you, Sister Dawn? Shall I be pressed or hanged or excommunicated?”

Returning her gaze to the garden, Sister Dawn said, “What doth thou see, Cinder Quilt, when thou layeth thine eyes ‘pon this small patch of land?”

Cinder Quilt tilted his head. “Flowers, Sister Dawn.”

Sister Dawn raised her brow. “Is that all?”

“Only flowers,” Cinder Quilt affirmed.

“Interesting…”

“Am I meant to see more?”

“Nay, thou art not incorrect in thine observation, Cinder Quilt. They are, at a glance, but flowers.”

“What are they when they are not mere flowers, Sister?”

Walking about the garden, her horn lighting at different intervals, magic washing over certain things that caught her eye, Sister Dawn smiled. “I see royal lilies, exotic azaleas, flourishing begonias, buttercups, bluebells, daffodils, forget-me-nots, jasmines, lovely lavenders and lilacs, precious petunias, rhododendrons, sunflowers, tantalizing tulips, and so much more.

“Each has a name, and no two are identical. Alone they are just flowers; they wither and fade to dust without proper care.” Sister Dawn trailed her hoof along the petal of a sleeping daisy, the flower blossoming at her touch. “But, under the right conditions, and when brought together, they are ever more vibrant!” The mare frowned at a dying leaf on one of the newest flowers, cutting it away.

Gritting his teeth, Cinder Quilt said, “Then if these flowers are so special to you, why are some plucked before they are allowed the chance to flourish?”

Sister Dawn’s mouth became a thin line. “Because those flowers that wanton may harm the whole of the garden.” She scrutinized a particularly large rose. “Should they grow to loom over the others, they drink in all of the sun’s light, leaving the rest of the garden thirsty and frail. ‘Tis order that allows every flower in the garden to live harmoniously. And order does not exist outside of the garden.” She snipped the rose short with her shears.

Cinder Quilt’s eyes widened.

“So what shall it be for thee, old friend? Wilt thou choose to remain in the garden?”

A tear ran down Cinder Quilt’s face. “I loved Golden Shine, Sister Dawn. He was my son and you sentenced him to death.”

“Nay, Cinder Quilt,” Sister Dawn said, turning to him. “‘Twas his lack of faith.”

Destiny Vine

Destiny Vine sprinted through the woods. It was after her. The vine-armed, faceless creature of fluttering black. The Vulture.

She managed to hide herself from it for a few hours at a time, she even went two full days without seeing hide or hare of it. Maybe it had intended that, watching her from the shadows with her being none the wiser. It didn’t rest, didn’t eat, didn’t sleep. She wasn’t even sure if it was truly flesh and blood and not some horrible golem that fed on magic.

The Royal Guardsmare had been on the move with little to no rest since the botched rescue at those accursed mines. To think things could go even further south. Now, everypony on the team was either dead or missing-in-action, maybe even worse, but she had to keep moving! She could only hope at least Short Order and the captain were okay.

Right now, her only goal was to survive for long enough to make it to extract. They would be waiting for her… right?

She stopped a moment to catch her breath. The mare hid near a tree in the hopes that the shrubbery concealed her. Placing a hoof on the green-jeweled necklace Sparks had gifted her on their seventh anniversary, she whimpered to herself, exhausted. The mare never prayed before, but under the circumstances, she couldn’t find any reason not to. Destiny just wanted to see him again in their humble little home in Canterlot, overlooking the rustic countryside, and to reconcile with the sister she had steadily grown distant with since she’d been accepted to this branch of the Royal Guard. She wanted this nightmare to end.

“I’ll see you all again,” she whispered. “I promise.”

A dry chuckle tickled her ear. The mare’s eyes widened when she felt the blade of a knife press against her throat. The blade was held by a twisted, vine-entangled wooden mess of a limb that resembled a gryphon’s talons. Its other claw danced across her underbelly, leaving a trail of scarlet toward her flank.

“But not before we’ve had our fun…” the voice rasped.