... really the soul is the heart of the equation. It is from there which all magic flows, from the basic six elements, to as complex and involved as Machina. The soul is both the starting and end point, the alpha and omega. This is why anything can perform magic in the first place, any race, any species, any creed, save golems. Now the soul is also the end point, because from there everything may be extrapolated, which is a very difficult concept we'll cover later...

- Excerpt from Thunderboom's: Mysticism and You, An Imbecile's Guide

The investigation team, of which Soul was a part, shuffled around the luxurious room. The scene... was about as grim as they'd imagined. On the large, sprawling, four-poster bed, lined with silken purple sheets and framed in exquisitely varnished hickory wood, lay a pony. Emerald green in color, the stallion had been stabbed multiple times. Several of the wounds had punctured his windpipe, others the artery in his neck, and finally his heart and torso. It must have been quite the spectacle, and Soul had stood but ten feet from it no more than two hours ago.

Hallow sighed, the blue mare rubbing the base of her horn with a fury, "And you heard no evidence of an altercation, whatsoever?"

Soul was not intimidated by her stance, or her words. The ice had returned to grip his heart in its sheathe, as soon as he'd seen the amount of blood that lay soaking into those rich sheets, and staining the white walls red, "May I speak to you outside, Agent Hallow?"

She looked at him, baffled, before strutting outside, yelling back, "Everypony stay here and continue to search for clues. Touch nothing, understood?"

All made affirmations, and soon she and Soul stood outside alone, "Now, Private, what in Tartarus was so bloody important that it had to call me away from a fresh crime scene to tell me?" she was acting... half-hysterical Soul would say. With his emotions deadened, he could See easily the fire with which hers burnt inside her. Panic, Anger, Sadness, Worry, it all indicated that there was more to this case than she was letting on. And something about them... something he could have sworn he'd seen somewhere before...

"Agent Hallow, how many missions have you successfully completed?" He asked coolly, not batting an eye at her snarl.

"What the buck- that's none of your damned business Private, now do you want to keep your job or not?"

"Who said anything about keeping their job?" He asked in a knowing way. Then he Saw the real Fear come alive inside her, Suspicion too. An intertwined stream of violet and misty blue that rocketed up and down her spine. He now knew what was at stake for her. Good. It could be controlled.

"Two hours ago," he started almost immediately, giving her no chance to respond, "the alleged Prench Ambassador that was staying in this room attempted to seduce both me and the guard you see dead in there, Emerald Chalice was his name," he saw her eyes widen, but he continued, "she was successful in dragging him into the bedroom, but I held my post. From there, they proceeded to fuck liberally," she, again, blinked at his blunt language, "my inclination was, at the time, that she was moaning and screaming with added volume, as to entice me into the room as well, but my duty bound me where I stood," That and my disdain, "Then, after several hours of continued and unceasing rutting, a golden ticket appeared next to me, inviting me to the Gala. I did not finish reading it, and therefore had not time to either accept nor deny it. From there things did shift. There were several thuds, but no noise other than that, not a peep nor whisper of a word, whereas before they'd been quite poetic with their descriptions of how they each wanted to fuck each other senseless. Then, about thirty minutes later, the Prench mare emerged and told me that the guard was resting from the activities, and not to expect him to wake up soon. I left my post at the appointed time, and did not enter the room until I was with you mere moments ago."

Finishing his explanation, Soul settled back and waited for the Agent's response. Her eyes watched him, heavy with calculation, from her scarred face. She scratched at her horn as she thought and then said, "What do you think of this situation?"

He blinked, "Well, it's obvious, isn't it? A group of assassins is stealing tickets from ponies they know will have them in order to infiltrate the Grand Galloping Gala and murder one or several of the attendees."

She looked at him for a long while again. Not speaking. He did not shift, or become uncomfortable as her eyes slowly narrowed at him, "I think it may be a little early to assume such advanced motives, they could just be murdering noble scions and the tickets are a coincidence."

"Scions?" Soul asked, quirking an eyebrow. An expression which Hallow was happy to return, "Have you never heard of Golden Chalice?"

Soul wracked his brain but came up with nothing, and shook his head.

"What of Velvet Brightstar? Winter Vale? Black Licorice?" Soul shook his head at all of the names, ears lowering a little with each failed question.

Hallow looked at him with disbelief, "All of them are among Canterlot's elite houses. All of the victims so far have been members of their family, often young and unmarried. Murder and foul play are definitely afoot, the killings are too similar for them not to be, but as of now it could simply be back-alley warfare within the upper echelon."

Soul was aghast, "Is this... common?"

Hallow hesitated at that, "No... and, in fact, the last hundred years have been almost free of blood feuds between the major houses, and none of these were major anyway."

"And," Soul continued, "If that is the case then... why take the tickets from every victim?"

"We don't know that every victim had their ticket taken, per se," Hallow said, chewing the inside of her cheek in thought, "they could have been dropped, ripped, or lost in some way."

"All of the tickets? Such a coincidence seems highly unlikely," Soul looked back towards the room, wanting to get in there and begin scanning the place for clues before any trail that was left might be cold. But from the looks of things, this was a professional job, he'd be surprised if they'd made any slip-ups this early in the game.

Hallow sighed and rubbed a blue hoof down her face, "Look, right now, I have as many answers as you do. So get back in there with your team and find something so that we both have more to go off of."

Soul saluted the Agent and walked back into the room, hearing her mutter something about smart alecks under her breath. He didn't pay it much attention, his light pink eyes were already piercing the vale between the past and present.

He walked over to the bed, watching the floor. In his mind's eye he could almost see the dance of the two partners, they'd intertwined shortly after the door was shut, that much could be seen from the scuffed floor where the dust that had gathered that day was disturbed.

The bed was well used, and in more places than just where the blood spattered it. They'd ranged to all corners. For hours even. What was this stallion made of? He glanced at the quickly cooling corpse, leaning in close. Whispers of his cohorts floated past his keen ears, they saw that he was looking for something. Something that he found.

Inside the lip of Emerald Chalice was a bright neon green line that trailed down his throat. Poison, of some description. The swath was tainted by a sickly pink and purple, bordering on red. Some form of lust poison, and unnatural at that. Now what could have...

Soul leaned even closer and took a sniff of the stallion's mouth, and nearly gagged so strong was the smell to his straining nostrils. There was no doubt as to the overpowering scent of pomegranates, the same scent on the neck of the old guard he'd changed places with that morning, no doubt after a long night of mind-numbing fun. The same scent as the white mare's lipstick. But... this poison had to be expensive... why waste it on a normal guard?

"They weren't very precise about it..." Soul mumbled to himself, turning around. He blinked as he saw seven sets of eyes looking right back at him. This wasn't the entire team, ten more had been set loose in the city to find the white unicorn before she could get too far. Soul didn't expect the search to turn up much, he suspected Hallow didn't either.

"Anything there, er, whatever your name was?" Asked one of the senior Privates. A brown old stallion who held his spear loosely, and fixed his armor looser. Malt was his name, Soul didn't think he'd given a last one.

"Soul Keeper, and perhaps..." Soul looked around the room, but he'd lost his place. He was distracted again by these pesky ponies, he needed focus. Soul closed his eyes, isolated his mind from the world around him, and reconstructed the room the ground-up. The stone walls of the castle, the suite with no windows. Dresser on the left, desk with wall mirror on the right, bed behind, bathroom and closet doors leading off to the right. He let his Sight fill in the details that he needed. If he looked back far enough, he could still see her. The poison was the key, it was so potent that it hung suspended in the air like purple phosphorous. He watched her lips as they pursed, breathed, and talked, filling out the rest of her body from the scuffs on the floor and furniture. She'd had many partners, not just the guard yesterday and Chalice. For days she'd stayed here, posing. Why? What was the point? He watched as she left, returned, laden with jewelry, to await her next set of guards and beseech them. Out of all of them, Soul was the only one to refuse. But if they were after Chalice then why all of this? A cover up? No, they drew more attention to themselves with this behavior than seducing only one pair.

Soul caught something. He noticed something was off between these traces of the past and what happened this time. His eyes snapped open, and he looked at the dresser. On it lay a purple and pink purse, bejeweled and gaudy. The white alicorn never, in all her days of hedonism, left this room without it. Not once.

"She panicked," Soul realized quietly.

"What was that, Bowl?" Malt asked, cupping an ear. His tone was mocking, but with a quick glance Soul determined that as everyone had gone about their business of still searching the room, Hallow had her eyes fixed on him. She knew, out of all of them, he would be the one to discover a lead. Or, at least, she had a pretty good hunch.

Soul near galloped over to the purse, and used his magic to avoid directly touching the evidence. He spilled the contents onto the table while he explained, "I cheated a little and used magic to see a little ways into the past, nothing major. I saw her mostly gallivanting with many partners, but I also saw that she never left this room without this purse," inside it were three things. A bottle of what appeared to be lipstick, an incredibly bloody dagger, and a single note with one word on it "Guard".

"This means a few things, most of them good," Soul said as he turned back to the group, "Firstly, this group is not professional, they're amateurs. Professionals would know the name and face of the target, they wouldn't have to keep a reminder of them at all times of what they were hunting. They also didn't know exactly who it was they were hunting for, they just knew somepony guarding this room would get a ticket eventually, so they had to stake out everypony."

"And what about all of them being nobles?" Hallow asked from the back of the room.

Soul spoke hastily, "I believe that is the coincidence, not the other way around. They were after the tickets, but didn't know that they're released in waves, so they went after the first ones they could find, which just so happened to be the noble houses. They didn't want to hit anyone big, either, so they chose their targets using those criteria. Only this time somethin went wrong. Something..." Soul paused, and looked over at the poison again, "... oh. It was me."

Everypony was silent as they awaited his explanation, "Throughout the days that mare was stationed here, every guard slept with her. Every one of them was affected by this poison," he held up the bottle, "Every one of them forgot who she was after a long night or day of making love. Every one... except for me. I turned her down, I could remember her face. She didn't know what to do when I resisted, so she panicked as soon as she got the ticket, and left as quickly as she could. No doubt she only remained here long enough to bathe and wash off all the blood before bolting."

"Well... then we need to get after her, quickly!" Malt exclaimed.

Hallow started to say something, but Soul was too deep in thought to see her, "No, no, no, it's too late for that. She could have changed identities three times by now, and that's discounting the fact she's a unicorn. A wanted poster and a posse will do no good, we need other means..." Soul looked back at the purse and cursed quietly. It was usually that if one loved a possession enough it formed an attachment to them as well, that would have been useful. But the bag was coated not in Love, but in Fear. She must have detested carrying it around with her, it made her immediately suspicious if anypony were to go through it, but she had to keep it with her at all times anyways. Oh, how she'd loathed it.

"Think, Soul, think..." he said out loud as he began to pace, brow furrowed. The other ponies backed up to give him space as he walked from dresser, to bed, and back. There was a solution here, he could feel it in his core, something telling him... a taste of iron in his mouth...

She'd walked with a limp.

Soul sprang back towards the bed and ripped off the sheet, the body being flung off of it onto the floor.

"Oy, careful with that!" Malt warned, but Soul was scanning the bloodstained cloth frantically.

"What is it, Soul?" Hallow asked, her eyes glowing with pride and anticipation. He gave her a roguish smirk, and his horn ignited in a field of stars, along with the middle of the sheet.

A globule of reddish-brown liquid was ripped from it, along with a triumphant smile from Soul. He pointed down to Chalice, "The boy did well in his final moments, he put up a noble struggle against a better trained enemy who had surprise and poison on her side." Magic peeled away the young victim's lips to reveal blood coating the back row of molars, "He bit her with a final death vise, and he held on even after the rest of his body had long since given up. This blood is hers."

Soul looked deep into the blood, seeing past its purity, and the constituent elements that made it, into the very heart. It took some doing, a few minutes passed where he appeared to be standing there, saying and doing nothing but frowning. Until he saw it, a very sliver of her soul, tucked away in the abstract space where nothing but itself existed. Attached to the body it had once belonged to, but apart also. His hunger called to him as he observed it, and his mouth began to water lightly, but he wiped the thought from his mind.

He tossed away the Blood, it was useless now, despite Malt's protests, and he was very... incredibly gentle. He held tenuously in his magical grasp, raw, unfiltered soul energy. It appeared almost as bright as a distant star when viewed from the peripheral, but it was impossible to look at directly without blinding oneself. It constantly flickered and wavered, threatening to die or disperse, but an ancient magic filled Soul's horn, one who's source felt familiar, yet he knew it not, and the magic held steady.

What he did was simple, at that point. He gave it the means to travel through the air, and attached to it a sense of longing, of loneliness. Actually... perhaps it was slightly complicated, as it took Soul the better part of fifteen minutes, during which time the ponies around him seemed to lose faith or interest, and go back to scanning the surroundings, checking the toilet and closet. All except one. Hallow had made her bet, and she was doubling down.

A shaft of pure white light, crackling with rainbow streaks, shot like a spear from Soul's grasp, and remained hovering in the air. It vibrated intensely, straining to rip free and plow through all obstacles to find its way back to the one to whom it belonged.

Every pony in the room jumped backwards as a piecing flash of light erupted from Soul, and they all turned to stare in wonder at the shaft of pure energy.

"What is that?" A young private asked in awe.

"I believe," Hallow answered, "That Private Soul has found a way to track the assailant."

They looked at Soul, waiting for him to confirm. The first of them became concerned after he did not speak for several seconds.

"Uh, Soul?" Malt asked, poking him. Only then did the older man see how furrowed Sou'ls brow was, the beads of sweat beginning to drip down from his face and body, white teeth clenched so hard his whole jaw was shaking.

Soul had not done a thing like this... ever, as far as he could remember. The light was fading fast, never meant to exist on its own, and Soul was burning through his reserves of energy to keep it alive. He could See all of what the others could only catch a glimpse of. The light was blindingly white before his eyes, so bright even they couldn't miss it. But He was the only one that could see its tail as it stretched backwards. like a chain snapping apart in reverse it shot its way towards its owner, sloughing potency like a sieve as the ribbon of light snaked its way through the streets of Canterlot, Soul at its forefront. He rode the light like a fluorescent wave, his sight zipping this way and that through the streets. He was out of the noble district now, into the craftsponies' streets, and the light was so dim it could barely be made out.

Come... on... a little.. farther... he could feel it, he was close. Just around this corner... and he saw it. The alleyway was dark at the end, made of broken cobbled bricks, with two L-shaped copper pipes running from the left hand wall while a single rotting brown crate sat depressed in a pool of water on the right. The darkness approached his light with the same tenacity he had pursued it, before the shaft found its mark, and Soul was thrown backwards into the bloodied bed frame.

He gasped his pain, and doubled over as his stomach cramped. He'd burned through most of his magic with that stunt. He could have just given them a lead to go off of. No matter now. He realized somepony was calling his name.

"..oul... Soul! Wake up!" He blinked open a crusty eye to find a familiar and welcome face. The dark brown eyes set in the soft yellow face of Marshmallow. She looked very concerned, and was currently performing chest compressions to the best of her ability, though they were starting to hurt as she dug into his rib cage.

"Marshmallow..." Soul just barely remembered his propriety as he coughed, "I'm fine... please stop..."

With a tear in her eye she stopped compressing, and went in for a giant hug, her earth pony strength dragging him from the floor in a crushing grip, "Oh thank Celestia, I though you were dead!"

"Told ya', you daft horse," Soul heard Malt mutter, but he was busy enjoying the nuzzle from his current favorite pony. She was just so soft, it was irresistible!

"Mally," he whispered so only she would hear, "This the best place for this long of a hug?"

She gasped, and plopped him onto his hooves, smiling sheepishly and clearing her throat. The blue coated Hallow waste no time, "You were out for a good fifteen minutes, Private Keeper, whatever you did better have been worth all that time we wasted."

Well then you shouldn't have waited for me, he mentally snarked, "Of course, Agent Hallow. And I did find something. Tell the others, quarantine the lower city, specifically between Kinder and Trundle Street, but a wider area just in case. What I just performed was... apparently a very dangerous magic called a blood trace, I... I don't think I've ever done it before. It uses the remains of the targets soul to find them. I can lead you to the exact place I saw, if you wish."

"Oh, no you're not," Hallow stooped Soul with a hoof as he was about to walk out of the room, and he was ashamed to admit he almost stumbled as he stopped, "You need to rest. I've worked while running low before, believe me, and it's not something a Private needs to experience."

"With all due respect, Agent, I worked the Pit harder than anypony ever has in a day for two straight weeks," Soul snapped with anger, and then felt suddenly very faint, stumbling again only to be caught by Marshmallow, "I can... I'll be alright, we need to find these ponies before they cause any more damage."

Soul expected Hallow to be angry, to tell him to get back in line, but when he looked up he saw the ghost of a smile on her face. She stepped over, and put a hoof on his shoulder, "That's what I like to hear, Private. The Pit, huh? You'll have to tell me about that on the way. Let's move, team!"

As everypony trotted out of the room at double time, and Hallow shot off messages to the other members casing the city, Marshmallow, and a few others, stared at her in shock. Soul was one of them. He could go on, and he would, but part of him knew it was a bad idea. He had expected to show a brave face and then be made to rest. Perhaps Hallow was calling his bluff.

"Come on, Mally, let's go," he said roughly, getting onto his own hooves and starting to jog.

She easily caught up to him as they fell in at the back of the troupe, "Soul, you're hurt. You need to go to the infirmary."

He could hear the worry in her voice, so he gave a reassuring smile, "Don't worry about me, Mally, I'll stay at the back. I've done what they needed me for, I'll take it easy. Promise."

She frowned, and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek when she was sure nopony could see, but said no more.

The jog through the city took an hour, Soul was absolutely exhausted at the end of it. Panting, sweating profusely, parched, and starving, they arrived at the lower ring of the city.

How do I keep ending up like this? He asked himself, before Marshmallow tapped his shoulder with a water bottle. He nodded in thanks, too tired to speak, and downed the whole thing, handing it back with an apologetic smile. That took care of one of his problems at least.

Finally, mercifully, they stopped as they reached the leader of the second team: Lay. Soul was glad to see a friendly face, but more so that it meant a rest. Looking around, it appeared the others were no better. All of them were a sweaty, heavy breathing mess. All except Hallow. Soul wouldn't have been either if he hadn't burned through his magic like a fool. It was already biting him in the ass and they hadn't even engaged the enemy yet.

"Private Decker, report," Hallow called as soon as they stopped, her team falling to the wayside as they all tried to catch their breath. Soul had to admire them though. None had lagged behind. All of them, it seemed, were here because they deserved it. Good.

Lay snapped off a salute, "Yes ma'am. We've cordoned off the area, working in conjunction with the local squads. Not a soul has entered or left since you gave the order. Not there was much traffic demand, anyhow, at this hour.

Soul glanced up, and was surprised to see the bright crescent moon, heavy and large in the night sky. He hadn't realized it had grown so late. It must have been around ten, at least. Or rather, twenty-two hundred. He had to practice that.

Hallow nodded, "Good. We should have them cornered. If our intel was good. Private Keeper!" she barked back without looking at him, "Are you certain your spell was foolproof?"

Tired and hungry, Soul's tongue loosened a little more than he would usually let it, "Look, Hallow, It's as close as I'm ever going to get to perfect. Nearly died for it, so if it's wrong then I feel I've paid the price."

Marshmallow seemed very alarmed at this news, but Hallow smirked again, "Then I guess you'd better lead us to where you last saw them. All units! Converge on my position!" a group of blue sparks shot into the air at her command, and zipped off to collect the other members of the team. She looked expectant, still. She wanted to engage, and have the others as reinforcements.

Wearily, Soul stood from his position and walked forward, recalling which paths had led him to the dark alley with the box and pipes. At least his memory seemed to be unaffected by his magical deficiency. He was able to perfectly recall the way forward, twisting this way and that, sometimes going over obstacles rather than taking any known street. Dutifully, his team followed behind, never questioning where he went. He supposed that as long as he didn't double back on himself, they assumed he had a destination in mind.

Finally, with the moon hanging high in front of them, they came to it. A narrow but well-maintained cobblestone street, the home of many small storefronts, ran down into a dead end that opened onto a small patch of grass. There was only two ways, the way they came, and an even further side street that led off to the right.

"That's it," Soul said, the water really had helped soothe his throat, he was thankful it didn't come out as an unflattering croak.

Hallow gestured, and the team formed a reverse phalanx, with the strongest fighters at the front two prongs, ready to funnel the enemy inwards towards more bristling spears or kill them outright. They drew spears and shields, and advanced slowly down the street. Soul should have been at the very front of the formation, but he stayed behind even the middle man, his promise to Marshmallow kept. She looked back at him as they approached, and he winked. She smiled.

The guards turned the corner, and it was exactly as Soul had envisioned it. A long, deep shadow was cast from two directions. One from the moon's pale light on the left, throwing the floor into darkness. And another, unnatural shadow. It spread from the end of the alley backwards, looking more like a black mist than a true shadow, almost spherical in shape.

"Hold," Soul called quietly.

Everypony stopped at his word, and looked at him curiously. Even in his hungering state, he could See where they could not, "Somepony's coming from the alley, be ready," he said in a low tone. The ponies around him braced, and waited. What came for them was... not what they expected.

From the shadows stepped a pony wearing a long black cloak that covered every bodily feature, and a mask. Or rather, a masque. The black, frilled headgear was ornate and luxurious, something a noble would wear to a masquerade if they truly wished not to be known. It was a very odd choice of headgear, for one who was suspected of murder.

"Whoever you are, come out with your hooves where we can see them!" Hallow called to the figure, "You are under arrest on suspicion of the murder of Emerald Chalice, Falling Brightstar, Candied Licorice, Autumn Vale, Woven Glamour, and Ice Prancer. You will hand over all weaponry you posses, and follow us."

The guards were tense as the figure did not move from his spot at the end of the alley. Soul was wary of the walls around them, they were boxed in with only one clear exit, and he smirked as his sight saved him again.

"Be alert, they've two above us on the left and right walls, four in total, invisible somehow," he whispered so only his team could hear.

"Can you take them out?" Hallow whispered back.

Soul grimaced. He was quite low on magic, it had to last him this whole fight...

"I can... try," he said, and the Agent nodded.

"Greetings, friends!" The figure at the end of the alley called, startling them all. It's voice was very strange, shifting from masculine to feminine, high and low, accent changing with every word, "So wonderful of the esteemed city guard to join us this cursed night! Have no fear, little ones, we mean you no harm..."

Soul stopped listening to the maniac's spiel and instead focused on the invisible ponies stalking above. This group clearly had access to some advanced magic, the cloaks were very complex and well-made. That would mean expensive, which meant they had a bank roller. However it seemed they hadn't sprung for any shielding options, so any of Soul's spells could harm them, they were counting on the element of surprise.

What is the least expensive way I could do this? Soul wondered, and decided on a simple, yet crude method, One that may earn him some ire, if it was not easily fixed. Along each of the unseen assailant's spines, he located the last vertebrae before one that connected the brain stem, and quickly snapped the nerve endings, paralyzing them all from the head, down. It was damned difficult, when they kept moving and he couldn't see their exact locations, but it did the trick after about fifteen seconds of mental math and guesswork. Even then, he was actually shocked when it worked. All four of them quietly slumped to the rooftop, unable to move or speak, but perfectly functional otherwise. He'd fully expected them to be protected from simple physical spells such as that, it was only on the third layer!

"Targets are down, paralyzed but alive," he whispered to Hallow.The others heard, and glanced at him. None of them had seen so much as a flash of the horn, and he'd disabled four opponents?

Hallow's face didn't move, but Soul could still tell she was smirking. The crazy pony at the end of the hall was finishing his speech, "... and so it is with greatest sorrow, that I must bid you depart! Farewell friends, you will see our cause just in due time!" It then executed a low bow.

It maintained it for several seconds, before the mask glanced up, "Ahem. I said I bid thee farewell!" The enunciation was painfully obvious, and Hallow gave a huff.

"If you do not come with us peacefully, we have been granted full authority to drag you back to Canterlot. Step away from the shadow behind you and drop all your weapons. Now,"

To Soul's eyes, the masqued pony seemed to grimace, "Put them to sleep, you fools!" He called. Only silence answered. Soul saw him begin to panic.

"Advance!" Hallow called, and the ranks moved froward. Soul could hear hoofbeats behind them moving steadily as well, reinforcements must have arrived.

The cloaked figure cursed, and dove into the oily smoke.

"After it!" Hallow yelled, "Don't let them escape! You there, secure the ones on the roof, there should be four, invisible..." as Hallow gave out orders the front formation charged the mist, Soul right behind.

There was a cold stinging sensation as they stepped through, like after you've sweat on a cold, humid day, and Soul was immediately aware that they'd been teleported.

They emerged, and it was hell.

The first thing Soul saw was Malt take a dagger to the leg as soon as his eyes cleared, screaming and stumbling to the side, the second was the layout. A long, dark brown corridor extended for an unknowable length in front of them, there were no torches in the hall, and most, if not all, of the guards would be blind. Three assailants awaited them, crouched behind barrels and boxes, throwing daggers with either magic or by hoof. It appeared they could see just fine.

Soul thought quickly, and decided on a bomb of light in front of the attackers to blind him and aid his friends. But in the split second before the decision, he felt the familiar cold creep up his spine, and a thought entered his mind.

I'm very much in need of food, and these assailants have plenty, and right now they're the only ones that can see me. No, I can't do that, they need to be questioned. One would be sufficient for questioning, the rest are expendable."

Soul grunted with pain as he felt his mind almost physically splitting over the issue, and he lunged, reasoning abandoned in a moment of hunger and confusion.

He never saw the pony's face that he picked, only the mask as it backed frantically away, clearly surprised at the unearthly rapid advance. Soul felt his jaw open, and his teeth tear through clothing and skin. The pony screamed as Soul was in ecstasy, gulping down as much magic as he could in seconds, his mind immediately clearing, and his thoughts quieting.

He snapped out of it, and stepped away from the empty space where there should have been a corpse, he whipped around to fight the other ponies in masks, but he wasn't expecting their faces. Both of the remaining assailants were looking directly at him, with two emotions shining so brightly within them it drowned even the magic of their attire. Shock, and terror.

I... I'm so sorry, Soul thought, mortified, even for his enemy. What had he done?

The guards finally threw up a torch, landing between them and the enemy. Soul could see their faces, surprise at how he'd gotten there so quickly registered heavily among them.

Ice gripped his heart, and Soul set his jaw, pushing past and lunging for the next foe. With his hunger sated, he moved with uncanny speed, snapping a quick jab that threw the pony's head back hard enough for whiplash, and broke the jaw with a crunch as the metal horseshoe connected. A quick spin and buck with the back legs into the ribcage was enough to destroy the internal organs with a sickening cracking squelch.

He turned to find the last attacker had charged toward the guards, throwing knives all the way. It lept over the poorly suited spears for such an environment, and got in behind them. One of the guards went down with a gasp before Soul could do anything, but he could See the stallion's soul retract into itself, an instant kill.

Cursing, Soul started to help, but something made him throw himself to the side just before three knives impacted the brown stonework of the hall where Soul's spine, heart, and head would have been. He twisted around to see two more masked figures dashing down the hall, and one more holding back behind them. These, unfortunately, did have magical shielding. It could be broken through, but not without enough time. Soul took a more direct approach and collapsed sections of the tunnel on top of them. It wouldn't kill them, unless the shields ran out of power, but it would slow them down.

He glanced at how the guards were faring, and it was grim. Currently Hallow, Mally, and the first of the reinforcements, which was Lay, thank Celestia, were going hoof to hoof with the highly skilled opponent. It was mostly Hallow, she was fighting like a demon, using very similar tactics and stances as the one fighting her. Lay and Marshmallow more or less just took a poke whenever they could get a shot off. Everypony else was dead or unconscious, either from pain or concussion.

Feeling that the situation was fine as a stalemate for the moment, he rushed the two he had trapped under the rubble, who were just now clearing out of it.

Soul brought up his spear and charged it mightily with magic. It crackled and snapped with a black glow, the stones near its tip cracking and aging rapidly, the armor Soul wore beginning to heavily rust. He slammed it into the shield of one of the attackers, and it melted almost instantly. Pulling back, Soul drove it again into the pony's face, sinking it through the eyes of the mask, and wrenching it free covered thick with blood.

We need one of them alive, he remembered... or... was told. It didn't matter right now, he had to finish the other one-

Soul hissed as a feeling of hot agony tore into his side, and what felt like three inches of cold steel buried itself inside him. It was quickly ripped out, and another pierce stabbed him in his back, he twisted enough so that it missed his spine, but it still felt like Tartarus itself had reached out for him.

The problem was that this hall was so cramped that he couldn't easily turn around, a vulnerability he had missed when he had charged down here, he should not have let the enemy get behind him. The pain was so immense that it was impossible to concentrate long enough to perform a quick backwards teleport. So, with a massive scream of torment, Soul bent backwards and grabbed hold of his opponent, slamming him forward into the stonework floor so hard the tunnel rumbled, and many bricks shattered. Unfortunately, the pony ceased moving afterwards.

Soul turned around as quickly as he could, but he was lightheaded from the pain, and dizziness soon followed, "Stop," he called weakly, "We need that one alive..."

His body was repairing itself, but not fast enough. When he looked back, he heard Hallow scream, but his vision was blurring, he couldn't see what was going on. Nothing good.

"Soul? Are you alright?!" Marshmallow? She was right next to him, when had she gotten here?

"Got stabbed... three, four times..." he slurred, feeling weaker by the second. Then he remembered something important, "Mally, turn around... don't let them get behind you..."

She stopped him from moving with a hoof, "Soul, you need to rest. Hallow's got that one covered!"

Soul's vision finally cleared enough to let him see down the hall. He saw the enemy, barely standing, winding up a throw. She was looking straight at him and Marshmallow.

"Look out," he said, almost banally. He felt... distant, detached. He saw the dagger fly, and his eyes widened. It was going to hit Marshmallow. Wait, no... it was coming at him.

That makes sense, he thought with a half-formed chuckle, I'm probably a little more dangerous.

Soul didn't have enough time to move out of the way, it was already almost to him. Funny, he didn't think-

Ice that burned like fire roared down his neck, and his entire body snapped to the right, tearing several muscles and tendons in a giant contraction of pure survival instinct.

What? Soul thought.

The knife flew, Marshmallow seemed confused as Soul moved faster than any pony should ever be able to, and the knife barreled down the hallway, clattering to the ground, resentful at its missed opportunity.

"Mallow?" Soul mumbled. The world around him was quickly fading. Everything was on fire. His body couldn't... cope...

Beep. Beep. Beep...

Oh, not again...

Soul lay there. For what must have been seconds. Then he remembered. He gasped away, shooting straight up in his hospital bed, crying out in pain as his back ached where he'd been stabbed, and his neck was incredibly sore. He was back in the infirmary, white bricks and white sheet were everywhere, smelling of disinfectant and fresh linen. None of that mattered.

Soul tried to slide out of bed, but knew instantly his hooves would not yet support his weight. His whole body felt like it had been tenderized.

He searched frantically for a nurse, luckily it seemed that one had heard his cry of distress, and was coming over. A light green stallion wearing a blue smock, brown eyes full of concern. The stallion quickly glanced at a nearby notepad before speaking, "Please, Mr. Keeper, you need to be lying down, the tearing in your neck hasn't fully-"

"Team?" Soul shouted, his vocal chords screaming like he was cutting them with a jagged knife. What had he done to himself?

The nurse cocked his head, "You... what?"

"Team," Soul growled, giving a glare so vile it could have curdled fresh milk, "where... are... they?"

The nurse gulped, "I uh... I'm afraid I don't know. We weren't told much about what happened. Something about a sewer? When you and your team arrived here a few days ago we took the utmost..."

Soul suddenly felt very tired. His neck and back throbbed like hearts of their own, vengeful and full of spite. His eyes closed against his will, and he was out before he hit the bed.

The pages of a book quietly flipped. Moonlight shone down into the infirmary, where a single candle was lit by a bedside. Soul read through a book, or it appeared to. His eyes... they were far away from the words on the page. His hoofs... they moved rhythmically across the pages, never varying in his pace. Really he saw nothing, his hooves felt nothing. Much like him.

Hoofsteps sounded at the doorway, quiet ones. Quiet, as to not wake the other wounded in the hospital, but Soul could still hear them well.

A blue mare, a long scar running from her horn to her chin, wearing a long brown cloak approached tenderly. She waited by Soul's bedside for a little while. And then she saw his eyes, and counted the movements of his hooves. She knows he wasn't busy.

"Soul?" She said, startling him from his daze.

"Yes?" He answered, with a small smile.

Hallow sighed with relief, brushing part of her wispy yellow mane from her face, "I was just coming to tell you congratulations."

He cocked an eyebrow and turned to her. She was standing in the same spot that Marshmallow had stood not four days ago. Had he really only known her for two weeks? It felt longer than that.

"Soul?"

"Congratulations on what?" he asked, ignoring his lapse.

"On the job you did. The four you paralyzed were all taken into custody and healed. You've done a great service to your nation," she gave him a genuine smile, and looked like she wanted to thump him on the back, but thought better of it after seeing his lacerations.

Oh, he thought, feeling foolish, I... actually forgot they existed. Good thing, though, I didn't exactly try to leave any survivors.

"Have they given us anything so far?" Soul looked up at the clear night sky, at the stars shining through the window. He felt that he knew their names, but was unsure how. Had he liked astronomy? That must have been it.

Hallow shook her head, "No... not yet. And unfortunately certain individuals have forbidden more coercive means of information gathering. So, until they volunteer, they just sit in a cell and rot," she shook her head, seeming disappointed.

"What other leads do we have?" He asked quietly.

She looked at him, "Leads? You think there's more of them?"

He nodded slowly, "I'm pretty sure there was one more. Behind the two I fought in the hall. They must have gotten away."

Hallow stepped closer to the bed, slightly breaching personal decorum, "About that, Private. I am a trained- well, a professional at what I do. I, along with the help of several others, was able to take down one of the assassins with difficulty."

He looked dispassionately at her hoof as it poked his aching chest, "You, on the other hand, are a Private in the Royal Guard. And managed to, singlehoofedly, disable four at once, and kill four more in rapid succession, as well as using magic techniques even I've never heard of. Not only that," she paced around his bed, "But you were stabbed multiple times in both the sides and back, and still were able to dodge a knife throw that nopony, save by a miracle, should have survived."

She was looking at him in a way part of him wanted to capitalize on. Another part of him felt sick at thinking that. Mostly... he was just tired. He both wanted and needed rest. Food too, to a lesser extent. He could already feel himself beginning to get hungry.

A heavy weight seemed to settle on his shoulders. Hallow noticed.

Her hoof covered one of his, "Hey," she said, catching his pink eyes with her dusky yellow ones, "Don't blame yourself for those that fell. Be glad you're alive, and learn from this so you can do better next time."

Soul didn't think she really knew what she was talking about, she seemed uncomfortable. Then she actually blushed as she realized that she was still holding his hoof, "S-sorry, I just... ahem, I feel a little off, I'm going to step outside for a second."

He would have pondered that, the way all mares seemed to feel around him, if he wasn't so tired. It was a deep hollowness, to his very core. Why did he feel this way? He must have really given his all in that fight.

He gave her hoof a squeeze, and smiled, "Alright Hallow, thanks for the visit."

She nodded and walked away a few steps, before slowing hesitantly to a stop, and turning around, "Unfortunately, Soul, this operation was covert. So, though the Princesses have both expressed wishes to grant you an award, it's impossible at this time. Especially if, as you suspect, there was one more involved."

Soul nodded, but she continued, "However that doesn't mean that your above and beyond performance hasn't been noticed or appreciated," she had a knowing smile on her face, and Soul wondered what she meant.

As soon as she left, Soul went back to sleep, he felt exhausted.

"My lord," the masked figure spoke, kneeling, "you lied to us."

The following silence was heavy, ponderous. Dangerous.

"Did I?" A voice echoed back, deep and morose. The masked pony still shivered, even though he'd listened to it for many months, it's tone like black quarts was so dark and clear that it cut him to the bone.

"There was one there, one that knew the old magics," the masked pony spat, "you assured us this was impossible!"

Another stretch of long, pregnant quiet. The air was drawn all in one direction, like the whole world was taking a breath to answer.

"Interesting," the voice drolled, "who?"

The masked pony shook with fury, and responded, "I will... find out."

The voice hmm'd, and said no more. It seemed to be thinking.

Author's Note

Soul Keeper has completed a very specialized mission for the two princesses, and earned shining distinction. But his questions remain unanswered, what has happened to his friends? Who was this sinister, and highly trained group? And what was their real goal in the capturing of the tickets?

Find out, next time.