Fairlight - To the Edge of Midnight

Chapters

Chapter One - Bob
Chapter Three - The Labyrinth of the Mind
Chapter Four - To be a Stallion
Chapter Five - The Eternal Gardener
Chapter Six - Back on the Other Side
Chapter Seven - New Life
Chapter Eight - Black Lightning
Chapter Nine - Briar
Chapter Ten - The Old Gods
Chapter Eleven - Unlikely Companions
Chapter Twelve - The Fog
Chapter Thirteen - Unlucky for Some
Chapter Fourteen - Lamplight
Chapter Sixteen - Deus Vult
Chapter Eighteen - The Gateway of the Gods
Chapter Nineteen - Ghost of the Empire
Chapter Twenty - The Journey of a Soul
Chapter Twenty One - Old Friends
Chapter Twenty Two - Blood and Flour
Chapter Twenty Three - Law and Disorder
Chapter Twenty Four - Past and Present
Epilogue
Chapter Two - In the Rose Garden
Chapter Fifteen - Where Love Once Lived
Chapter Seventeen - The Path Less Travelled

Chapter One - Bob

Fairlight

To the Edge of Midnight

CHAPTER ONE

Bob

Have you ever wondered just what the point is of, well, not to put too fine a point on it - everything? You know, maybe sat there one cold winters evening by yourself when all around you is quiet and the world slumbers peacefully waiting for the morning, and just wondered how your life had turned out the way it had? I had, and on far too many occasions to be healthy either. Maybe it’s just as well I never found an answer to my question though, I doubt I’d like the answer regardless of what it was, and I don’t know about you but personally I still need to be able to sleep at night. Still, regardless of my philosophical musings, just like everypony else I would get up in the morning, have a wash, get dressed, polish the old hooves, have a quick groom, and get on with the day exactly the same as I did every day, safe in the knowledge I could do absolutely bugger all about it anyway. After all, lifes big mysteries were best left to those who had far more time than I did to spend trying to unravel them.

If you hadn’t realised it already I’m something of a melancholy fellow at heart, and the goddesses know, maybe deep down I secretly like being this way. I remember when I was younger I’d tried speaking to my parents about the darker thoughts I would have from time to time and about how they’d made my heart feel empty and hollow, but in typical parental fashion they would dismiss it out of hoof as being simply due to ‘my age’ or ‘just feeling a little blue’. I’m not sure what my coat colour had to do with it, and being that I was a fairly uniform grey the sentiment was lost on me at the time. Good goddesses, was I naive back then… so much idealism, so much foolishness. My world view seemed to revolve around a plethora of stupid mistakes and the hopeless sense of righteousness and fairness that I had thought made me the ‘better pony’. Still, I suppose it’s just as well I can look back on it now and laugh. Or cringe. No, innocent or not I was no better than anypony. Now, if I’m being genuinely honest with myself, I’m a damned sight worse than many, if not most of the ponies I’ve ever met. At least back then I had more of an understanding of what was right and wrong. As I grew, as things happened to me, I changed, both in body and in mind. And not always for the better either, if such a thing even exists. Regardless, right or wrong meant nothing to my physical body and I grew up into a stallion who, like everypony else, had tried to find my own path in life. A little lacking in the old imagination department I followed the path my father had lain down before me. It was something of a family tradition to join the watch, and truth be told, a hell of a lot easier than conjuring something up for myself. Was I really that lazy when I was that age? Was I so lacking in ambition that I simply followed in my father’s hoofsteps without even contemplating choosing something I wanted to do myself? You know, the answer was there all along. Yes. I was a follower, a pony who like so many before him, just followed the leader – followed the herd. When I was old enough and I got my cutie mark, even that was a non-event. Whereas many of the foals in my year got to enjoy great celebration and fanfare with the appearance of their particular marks, my own was met with emotionless indifference. I don’t know whether it was because of what it was or because my parents simply didn’t find it all that interesting, but the materialisation one morning of the magnifying glass cutie mark on my flank was met with a neutral ‘that’s nice, love’. That’s nice, love… Goddesses forgive me, I’ve said that to my own daughter before now, usually when I wanted to be left alone and she was pestering me or being a bloody nuisance, but… what was I missing? A child who had wanted to spend time with her father, a child who loved me unconditionally, and there I was, far more interested in reading the damned newspaper than paying attention to my own flesh and blood – the little one I had lost before she was even born. And now, now that I was here in the place where time meant nothing, I had no time for her. I closed my eyes and silently hated myself. It wasn’t really like that though, was it? Maybe it was a parenting thing? Bloody hell, maybe it was! Maybe I had become my own father! Oh, goddesses, no… what a bloody nightmare!

I rolled over and blew the loose grass out of my nostrils. There was nothing like a damned good roll in the morning, well away from everypony else of course. The miserable buggers never did anything but moan about ‘improper behaviour’ all the time as it was, coming out with such classic gems as ‘ponies never did that in my day’, or ‘You need to save face’, whatever that meant. Blast it all, I was beginning to wonder if this were really heaven at all. Somepony once told me that their idea of hell was an afterlife with relatives, and bloody hell fire, were they ever right! The eternal herd, the heaven of the equestrian race, was both eternally beautiful and in equal measure eternally boring – if you didn’t have something to occupy you. I did; my family. My beautiful wife, my gorgeous little pegasus daughter, and me – disgustingly happy, and currently lying on a hillside covered in grass with the morning paper stuck to the side of my face like some gigantic shaving accident. At least the damned thing wasn’t stuck to my arse for once. I had a disturbing habit of sitting on things that ended up either breaking or sticking to my behind, much to the amusement of onlookers. I glanced down at my cutie mark and smiled sadly. The old magnifying glass… What a boring and dull thing that was. A nondescript mark for a nondescript pony. The children used to think I was boring too. ‘The cart horse’ they called me, and they were right. Grey with brown eyes and a black mane and tail with the most common and meaningless cutie mark you could have. Still, it could have been worse, couldn’t it?

“You’re doing it again, aren’t you.” A hoof bopped me on the nose. “Stop it.”

A soft pair of lips brushed mine as soft as gossamer.

“I’m sorry, love,” I breathed. “I just-”

“I said, stop it!” The lips pressed a little harder, urging me to respond, but my heart felt unusually heavy this morning.

I pulled away and gave her a nuzzle instead. “I’m sorry, I’ll behave.”

Meadow raised an eyebrow. “I wish you wouldn’t do this, Fairlight. Do you think I don’t know where you go every morning?”

“It’s not every morning,” I muttered.

“It is lately!” Meadow chided, giving me a shove. “How do you think it makes me feel, eh? To wake up in the morning and find my husband missing from our bed? I’m fed with of it, Fairlight, I want it to stop.” She closed her eyes and leaned her head against me. “Please, love, it… it’s horrible waking up without you there. It-”

“Now you can stop it!” I teased, giving her a kiss. “No tears now.”

The grass green unicorn sniffed. “If I didn’t love you so much I wouldn’t care so much.” She pushed me onto my back and rolled over onto me, pinning me down. “But I do.”

I grinned, my heart suddenly leaping in my chest. “Meadow, we can’t… your parents are-”

“Still in bed,” she whispered. “We’ve got time for a-”

“Meadow? Fairlight? Where are you?” The familiar voice drifted out across the hillside from the direction of the cottage.

“Bugger, I was just getting in the mood too.” I gave myself a shake and stole a quick kiss from my beautiful mare who gave me a wink.

“It’ll keep,” she whispered. “We’ve got all the time in the world, my love.” Suddenly she clopped me on the rump. “Come on then, plump rump, let’s go and see what disasters await for us back at the ranch.”

“Plump Rump?!” I looked round at my backside in alarm. It seemed just as firm as ever… wasn’t it? Oh, goddesses! Was I getting fat and- “OW!” Meadow suddenly bit me right on the backside and let out a loud nicker.

“Gotcha!”

“Gah! You bloody pest!” I reared and dug my hind hooves into the firm earth as I leaped forward into a gallop after the incorrigible mare.

My darker thoughts forgotten in the bright morning sun and the sheer simplistic joy of a good hard gallop, I was hard pressed to keep up with the frisky mare. Meadow was extraordinarily fast, and although of a slighter build than some mares, she had an incredible turn of speed that matched her skill with magic. To be honest I felt a bit of a dimwit next to her and I was all too aware just how lucky I was to have found such an amazing creature as my wife. Well, not that she’d agree of course, Meadow had always asserted that she had found me, and that as a mare she was the one who would make the decision as to who she would take as a partner. And so here I was, the dopey old cart horse with a life some would have killed for. Hmm, perhaps a poor choice of words considering, but that was a story for another day.

“You’re covered in grass.” The stallion’s accusing eyes never left me for a moment. “Both of you.”

“We were just out for a morning run, dad. You always said a mare need to keep in trim.” Meadow scooped up her excited daughter and mussed her mane. “Anyway, don’t you and mum go out for a canter in the morning at home?”

“We canter, Meadow, not...” Meadow’s father waved his hoof, “whatever you were doing.”

“Oh, come on!” Meadow clucked her tongue. “You’re as old as we are, so don’t give me that!”

The stallion sniffed loudly. “I am still your father, Meadow, and I do not approved of early morning...shenanigans. Especially when you have your daughter here who could come along and find you two… doing that.”

“‘Doing that,’” Meadow sighed. “Sparrow was with you, wasn’t she? Besides, what harm could she come to, dad?”

“She could still be hurt, Meadow,” her father retorted, “eternal herd or not. Anyway, I wasn’t talking about physical injury. If she found you two ‘frolicking’ the trauma could scar her for life.” Apple Pop sniffed and held up his hoof to thwart Meadow’s incoming protest. “And that’s the end of the matter.”

Goddesses above, what a misery! ‘Trauma’, for Celestia’s sake… You know, I’d always respected Meadow’s father, but sometimes he was so stiff he made steel look floppy. I gave myself a shake and looked at him squarely. “Sir? Did you want us for something in particular?”

The old watch commander raised an eyebrow. “Your breakfast’s ready.”

Meadow gave me a sympathetic glance and the three of us trotted back across the field to the white painted cottage. It was a scene I would never tire of; from the rich yellow of the thatch to the gleaming walls, the brightly painted green door and the neatly trimmed hedge and colourful flowers of the neatly trimmed border, it was a home straight from the top of one of those painted biscuit tins. Ah, the herd – a place where a pony truly had no worries, no concerns, and only an eternity of bloody midering relatives to contend with. I sometimes wondered if Apple Pop had a nagging mother or father in law who drove him up the wall too. It would certainly explain why he felt the need to keep coming round here and being a pain in the rear. You know, the more I think about it the more I wonder if this wasn’t by design, as if the whole ‘relatives arriving unannounced’ thing was some sadistic plot by the royal family to keep their citizens from spending every day dossing around in eternal bliss. It wouldn’t surprise me, in fact I wouldn’t put anything past that bunch of puffed up alicorn toffs. As for poor old Apple Pop, the miserable bugger didn’t seem to be enjoying the afterlife quite as much as you’d expect, and spent most of his days tinkering in his garden, hanging around with other veterans of the watch droning on about ‘the good old days’, or hovering around Meadow and myself like a sour faced lost soul. Perhaps in some ways he was – eternity with the same ponies, the same eternal perfection of everything around you; it was enough to drive anypony completely bonkers. I’d found out very quickly that in the land of sunshine and rainbows boredom was the only real enemy, and this was why the ever thoughtful authorities here, and you can be assured there was a plentiful supply of ponies here who simply lived for that sort of thing, kept you under a sort of ‘soft’ observation. We all had ‘case workers’ too apparently - a pony we could go and speak to about our ‘feelings’ and who could offer advice and guidance on a range of topics that helped new arrivals like myself feel right at home. Or at least, that was the idea. In reality they were a bunch of annoying busybodies who keep sticking their inquisitive muzzles into your business, and between them and Apple Pop I was beginning to wonder if I shouldn’t just volunteer for work in the town for no other reason than to get some much needed peace and quiet.

The smell of home baking hit me full force as we entered the little cottage, together with a brown sugar and butter covered mess of wings and fur I called my daughter.

“DADDY!!!”

“OOF! Gah, Sparrow!” Oh marvellous! Now I had the same sticky, yet decidedly delicious sweetness, stuck all over my face and mane.

“Don’t let ‘er… Oh dear!” Meringue clucked her tongue and extracted the buzzing pest from my hair. “Look at the state o’ you, I said to use the spoon didn’t oi?”

“Yes, Nana.” Sparrow gave the cerise mare a sorry look whilst simultaneously waggling her eyebrows at me cheekily. Ooh, that little nuisance! I grinned broadly, garnering a bop on the nose from the kitchen’s head chef.

“An’ you can stop encouraging ‘er too, Fairlight,” Meringue chided. “If you keep this up she’ll grow up to be a roit little madam, she will.”

“Sorry, Merry,” I shrugged. I suddenly snatched Sparrow up who shrieked in mock outrage. “But she’s just so sweet! Aarrrggghhh!” Sparrow struggled helplessly against my sticky attack until the two of us found ourselves looking up into the looming image of the grass green matriarch of the Fairlight family.

“Shower. Now. Both of you.”

I groaned. “By your command.”

“And don’t so cheeky!” Meadow scowled at me. “Mum’s right, Fairlight, she’s picking up these bad habits from you lately.”

“What bad habits?” I protested.

“The mixing bowl?” Meadow asked with raised eyebrows. “Or do you think the mixture suddenly evaporated all on its own?”

“I didn’t-”

“It was all over your muzzle!”

“Only a bit!” I said helplessly, “Good grief, if it didn’t taste so good I wouldn’t have pinched-”

“Ah-ha! Confession!” Meadow pointed a hoof at me. “You see? And you a former member of the watch too.”

“Bugger,” I huffed.

Meadow jabbed me with a hoof. “And will you watch that swearing!”

“‘Bugger’ is not a swear word,” I reasoned, “It’s descriptive.”

“Descriptive of what?” Meadow asked with an imperious sniff. “Go on then, tell us, we’re all waiting...”

“I...” I closed my eyes and hung my head in defeat. “I’ll go and get a shower.”

“And so you should,” Meadow replied levelly. “And while you’re at it you can-”

This was where Sparrow’s great announcement of the morning broke through the family throng in full force, with all the subtlety and finesse of a battering ram. “BUGGER OFF!”

Meadow immediately flushed as red as a beetroot. Normally it would have been quite cute, if it hadn’t been for the broadside that accompanied it. “SPARROW! Fairlight, for the goddesses’ sake look what you-”

“Be right back!” In a flurry of hooves and the trademark grey fur, I whisked myself and my foul mouthed daughter away down the hallway and into the bathroom, slamming the door behind us to block the pursuing cries of outrage from the indignant mares. Bloody killjoys, what a bunch of miseries!

“You’re in trouble,” Sparrow observed in that knowing tone that only foals can pull off. “Mummy’s angry.”

“She’s angry with both of us, you mean,” I reasoned, turning on the shower. “But I suppose she’s got a point. I shouldn’t say bad words.”

“Bollocks!”

“Yeah, like that one.” Resignedly I plopped the little pegasus into the shower and levitated the sponge over, rubbing some of Sparrow’s soap onto it. Other than smelling of strawberries, it was specially designed for youngsters so that it didn’t sting their eyes. Hey, come to think of it, how come they didn’t do this for adults? Didn’t it matter if our eyes stung? Bloody hell, the amount of times I’ve come out of the shower with my eyes as red as a thestral’s because I’d miscalculated the direction of the sponge or something was beyond count! Predictably, Meadow never seemed to have that sort of trouble when she was in here. To me however, the ways of the equestrian bathroom were many and mysterious. Like most stallions, I got in, did what I had to do, and got out. Now Meadow on the other hoof, now that was her sorted for the next hour at least! Still, she did smell wonderful when she got out. Speaking of whom, I saw one of her scented soaps in the wicker basket - ‘Pomfrey’s Plum Pudding, for the mare on the go.’ Hah! Talk about irony!

“Daddy?” Sparrow had her eyes on the floating sponge. “Why don’t I have magic?”

I smiled gently. “Because you can fly love, and that’s a special kind of magic that unicorns don’t have.”

“Mummy said you can fly.”

“I...” Goddesses, she was right. Or at least, she was partly. “I can’t any more, love,” I said wistfully. “Anyway, I’m just a plain old unicorn like mummy now. I suppose I could use magic to float like a bubble, but it’s not like yours. One day you’ll be strong enough to fly high above the clouds and as fast as a comet!”

“Will you fly with me?” Sparrow asked hopefully.

I closed my eyes. “I… I can’t love.” A sudden chill ran through me, making the corners of my eyes sting for just a moment. “But I promise I’ll come and watch you when you can fly on your own, and I’ll cheer you as you zoom through the sky.” I reached down and tickled her ribs. “ZOOOM!”
Sparrow shrieked in laughter and sneezed as water got in her nose. Oops! “Sorry, love,” I apologised. Thanks the goddess for the ‘No tears’ formula! Specially designed for idiotic fathers apparently. “Come on now, let’s get you cleaned up and then it’s daddy’s turn. Keep your eyes closed while I do your face, okay?”

“Okay.”

I don’t know what was up with me lately. I’d been finding myself becoming a lot more, what was the word now, ‘emotional’? Yes, that was probably it. Hell fire, was I coming apart at the seams already? In fairness I had been through the wringer a bit lately, and living with the knowledge that the rest of the Fairlight herd were quite literally a world away, was never all that far from my thoughts. My son, my beautiful son, Lumin, and my beloved mares Tingles and Shadow, were in the world beyond the veil of life and death - the realm of mortals. I’d been there myself once, and it sure wasn’t all it was cracked up to be! In fact the only thing that seemed to get cracked, on a regular basis too, were my bones. I’d lost count of the amount of times the poor old mortal Fairlight had been shot, stabbed, sliced, crushed, and on at least occasion, blown up. That had been the final straw for me, and even my wendigo magic hadn’t been able to repair that mess. All the queens horses and all kings knights, couldn’t put poor old Fairlight to rights. Hey, that rhymed! Hmm, maybe I could start looking into writing poetry? Or foals books maybe...

“Daddy?”

“Oh!” I came out of my revery in time to notice the white mass of lather that had once been a small grey pegasus. “Sorry love!” I chuckled, and rinsed the soapy creature off. She was such a delicate little thing, so adorably cute, and looked like a miniature of her dad – if you took away the cuteness and just focussed on the colouring of course, but you get the idea. Mind you, the whole pegasus angle was a bit odd, especially as Meadow and I were both unicorns. It wasn’t unheard of though, especially as Meadow had pegasi in her family. As for me, my family had apparently descended from the walking nightmares known as wendigo, or ‘windigo’ if you preferred. Personally I preferred wendigo, the other spelling made it sound as if I had some sort of horrific gastric problem. Considering I was, or rather had been for a very brief period of time, the rather grandly name ‘Lord of the Four Winds’, I was remarkably – not to put to fine a point on it – dead. Over time I’d put a lot of the wendigo business behind me, and I’d almost forgotten what it was like to fly. When I looked in the mirror now I saw the fresh faced unicorn I was when I was in my prime – a twenty something year old newby, fresh out of the watch academy and Ponyville’s newest officer of the law. How things change! Mind you, everypony here looked roughly the same age, more or less. Even so, there was something about a pony, especially one like Apple Pop, that made him seem as old as he had when I’d last seen him alive in the mortal realm. Here he looked, physically at least, the same age as me, and yet he exuded this ‘aged persona’ that made him appear as old as the hills. And in the eternal herd the hills were very, very old indeed.

“Right, out you come.” I reached down to collect my daughter only to be hit in the face by a spray of water and a blur of wet grey fur. In the blink of an eye, the soaking little creature was standing on the drying mat giving herself a shake. How did she…? Sparrow gave her wings a flap and shook off more of the water. Were they getting bigger, or was it just me? Of course she was growing every day, that was obvious, but… I don’t know, maybe I’d missed something along the way. I couldn’t remember her being able to-

“Daddy, can I go out now?”

“Huh?” I blinked in surprise. “No, love, we need to get you dried off first, okay?”

Sparrow rolled he eyes comically. “Awww!”

“Never mind that,” I tutted. “Come on now, let’s get you ready and then you can go and get some cake.” That worked...

“Yay!”

Ah, cake, the ancient remedy for everything that has ailed equestrians since the dawn of time. Or the invention of cake, of course. Sometimes I wonder what came first – the pony or the cupcake. I must have been some sort of genetic aberration as I wasn’t as obsessed about the stuff as others clearly were, but at least it kept the little one happy. Now as for town, the enigmatically named ‘Dawn’, the place was positively awash with cake shops, tea shops, ice cream parlours and every other kind of tooth rotting, waistline expanding treat imaginable. I don’t know about Dawn, the place should have been called Diabetes. But of course this was the eternal herd wasn’t it, and here you could stuff yourself until it came out of your ears and never put on even the smallest amount of trouser straining waistline, nor for that matter could you develop cavities in the old choppers either. And on that subject there was a distinct lack of dentists and doctors in Dawn of any description, and of course there was a good reason for that – nothing bad ever happened here. You wanted peace, you got it, you wanted a life eating marzipan coated sponge cakes with enough sugar in them to fell an elephant, you got it. And all the while you were living this confectionery drenched dossers existence, you never grew fat, you never got old and grey, nor would you develop any of the many blights that could curse ponies in the mortal world. Welcome my friends, to pony heaven.

I pulled the comb one last time through Sparrow’s tail and gave her a playful pat on the rump. “Right young lady, you’re all done. Off to mum and-”

“Woohoo!” In a burst of speed, Sparrow leapt into the air and rocketed out of the door in a flurry of grey wings. Dear goddesses, her hooves barely touch the ground! I hurried into the hallway after her but she was already in the kitchen causing yet more mischief. I left the little pest to it, chuckling under my breath as I set about washing myself in a rare moment of peace and quiet. As much as I love my daughter, she could be a touch overwhelming at times. I turned the tap on and settled back as the deliciously warm water cascaded over my head and back, the rich soap helping to take away the sticky mass from my fur and mane which my beloved daughter had rather thoughtfully applied to her father. I smiled, sighing blissfully as the warmth soaked through me. Steam curled up around me, snaking and eddying, like miniature versions of the clouds above the mountains. Now there was something I could remember: the feeling of the chill winds under my wings, the cool of the mountains caressing my face and flank as I soared through the air above the ruins of the fortress. It still pulled at my heart even now, calling to me every so often and reminding me of the way I used to be able to enjoy the simple freedom of flight: unencumbered, unrestrained, but most of all - free. In my mind I could fly as high as the stars and as fast as thought, coming into land on the veranda outside the bath house, perfectly placed so a pony could dive straight into it if he so chose. It was… heaven…

I gave myself a shake, reminding myself that there was a reason I was in the shower, and so concentrated on my back instead of daydreaming. Magic was a wonderful thing for manipulating objects of course, but sometimes I just liked to use my mouth and forehooves. I don’t know if it was the earth pony in me or what, but it felt good to do it like this from time to time. Magic was as natural to unicorns as breathing, but I’ll confess I wasn’t exactly the best at it. It wasn’t like I hadn’t been paying attention in school either. For the most part I had, it was just that I didn’t really seem to have that much of what you might call an ‘inherent interest’ in it, nor really bothered with much past the basics of levitation and, of course, my party piece – creating a small flame to light your cigarette, cigar, or pipe from. Not that I was allowed to do that any more! Well, not ‘officially’ anyway. The herd had few rules, and no smoking was definitely one of them, but you sure didn’t need a police force here when you had ponies with finely attuned noses like Meadow. In truth though, you simply didn’t crave things here, your body instead worked off some sort of internal programming which meant that any mortal ‘wants’ simply no longer existed. After all, why would you smoke if you didn’t want to? Still, the king and queen weren’t so dictatorial as to restrict everything a pony may desire, instead taking the stance that the afterlife was supposed to be a place of happiness and repose rather than an eternity within a confectionery based fascist regime. Unbidden, the image of a thousand pink mares with poofy manes and carrying candy canes marched through my minds eye beneath the banner of Equestria as a white alicorn watched imperiously from a balcony. Forward, comrades! I had to chuckle. The tap squeaked as the water shut off and I climbed out of the shower and onto the mat that was still damp from where I’d washed Sparrow. Thankfully there was an abundance of dry towels and the hair dryer was standing by ready for its next customer too. As always the worst part of a shower was getting out of course, but the warm air blowing through your mane was simply wonderful, so much so I was half expecting the knock on the door when it came.

“Fairlight? Your breakfast’s going cold. Are you going to be long?”

“Nearly done,” I called back. I turned off the dryer and replaced it on the shelf beside the vase of dried flowers. I could remember Meadow picking flowers just like them back in Ponyville. Back before everything that had…

“Do you want me to pour your tea out, love?”

My mane twitched. “Yes please, I’ll be out two ticks.” And I was.

A quick check in the mirror and I was good to go. On some level I was still surprised just how much I’d changed, or not depending upon how you looked at it. My fur was as grey as it had been when I was delivered into the world by my mother, my eyes just as brown, my mane just as black, and everything that life had inflicted upon me: the scars, the marks and lines of age, had all simply disappeared – replaced by the me I had always seen myself as in my mind’s eye. Only the goddess knows what other ponies had seen when they’d looked upon the battered and worn out creature with the piercing otherworldly blue eyes, the roadmap of scars, and the peculiar cutie mark that looked like a flash of lightning on my rump looking back at them. Some had thought I’d been possessed, whilst others believed that I was a demon from the depths of hell. Perhaps for some of them… I was. I still wondered about that, about those days, but here in the herd mortal world concerns simply no longer mattered, and-

“It’s on the table.”

Strewth! Talk about pushy! “Coming now!” I called, and left my steamy sanctuary.

Breakfast was in full swing when I arrived, and when I say full swing, I’m using that term very loosely. Apple Pop’s idea of excitement was a thrilling stroll through the forest or, like today, reading the newspaper and ignoring the butter and crumb coated child who only minutes earlier had been spotlessly clean. Attempting a valiant assault against the impending mess, the cerise coated mare with snow white hair and yellow eyes, waved me to a seat without even looking my way. Ah, Meringue, the long suffering and unflappable mother of my lovely wife...

“Help yourself to tea moi love, an’ there’s some ‘ot oatcakes an’ syrup in the pot. Made ‘em meself oi did.”

The contrast between the misery steeped Apple Pop and the mad as a box of frogs Meringue, had never failed to amuse me. Meadow had inherited her mother’s eyes and her father’s colouring, but everything else? Goddesses, who could say?! Meringue was, for want of another word, completely bonkers. The mare had one of the heaviest west coast accents I’d ever heard, whereas her father had the monotone drawl typical of ponies from Fillydelphia. They were in many ways complete polar opposites, and how the two of them had met was something that had always intrigued me. Unfortunately when I’d made discreet enquiries into this miracle of the modern world, I’d been met with topic changing skills that would have put Star Swirl to shame. Meadow pushed a plate of toast in front of me.

“Mum, I’ll sort her out later. Get yourself some breakfast before it goes cold.”

“You can’t leave her loik this, Meddy,” Meringue observed, “she’ll get bugs stuck to ‘er an’ you knows ‘ow that goes, roit?”

‘Roit’… Celestia’s arse, that dialect! It was hard enough to understand her as it was, but when you were engaged in a conversation with ponies who all sounded totally different from one another your mind felt as if it was turning somersaults. Seemingly immune to such conversational gymnastics, or just simply numb from living with it for so many years, ‘Meddy’ expertly removed the sticky mass of wings and fur from her mother and plonked her down onto the work surface.

“Mum, get your breakfast!”

Meringue clucked her tongue. “Alroit then. But see’s as she gets a proper clean moind!”

“Yes, Mum.” Meadow gave me a helpless glance and I smiled back with what I hoped conveyed my heartfelt sympathy. Meanwhile Sparrow was struggling against the inevitable wet flannel, somehow managing to stuff more toast into her mouth at the same time. I have to admit, the little thing was certainly determined.

“What time do we need to leave, Meddy?” I asked innocently.

“About...” Meadow paused, and slowly turned her large yellow eyes on me. “About nine… Fairy.”

I cringed. Point taken! I noted the sniff from behind the newspaper. Perhaps disapproving, perhaps bemused – with Apple Pop it was nearly impossible to tell, with or without the newsprint and paper barrier he’d erected between himself and the now daily chaos of the kitchen table. Personally I preferred to breakfast with the family, albeit it was generally a lot quieter than when Pop and Merry were here. For some reason my small grey lunatic of a daughter always acted up whenever they came round. Now secretly I had hoped her full-on assault of winged antics would prove a little too much for Meadow’s folks to handle, and as a result would start to find excuses not to keep coming round all the time, but incredibly they were somehow immune to it all. How, only the gods knew. Actually, now that I come to think about it, what had Meadow been like as a child? I mean, I could handle Sparrow at her worst, but that’s because I’m her father, but still… hmm… I made a mental note to ask Merry about it later. I felt a smile spreading across my face; it never hurt to have a little more in my arsenal when the microscopic terror’s mother tried to get one over on her beloved hubby.

“I don’t know what you’re thinking, but I know when you’re up to something.” Meadow’s whispered words in my ear carried a chill note of warning.

“I’m just finishing my breakfast love,” I replied innocently.

“Mmmm… and I’m the empress of llamalia.” Meadow made a pretence of flicking some crumbs from my foreleg. “I’ll find out you know,” she said breathily. “I always do.”

“I can’t keep secrets from you, love,” I said with a wink.

********************

Our conveyance trundled along the narrow road that ran alongside the forest towards the small town of Haven. It was a gentle climb uphill from our cottage, and I leaned back in the cushioned seats listening to the steady rhythmic clopping of the driver’s hooves on the hardened ground. I’d always found that most innocent of sounds soothing for some reason. To my mind it held a mesmeric quality that made me feel relaxed and at peace with the world whenever I heard it. Clip-Clop-Clip-Clop. Around us the world too was at peace, passing the time away just as it had since the dawn of creation. Birds every colour of the rainbow flew overhead, whilst higher up I could see pegasi skimming across the perfectly blue sky as effortlessly as rain falling from the heavens. Funny, I rarely saw rain now. In this perfect world rain was usually limited to the evenings so that ponies didn’t have their days spoiled by getting wet. As for winter, well… that was something that could make you cold, couldn’t it? Yeah… no snow here. No children making snowponies, no ice to skate on, no need for scarves, socks, nor even woolly hats. In some ways it reminded me of when I worked in the watch house back in Manehattan. The weather there could be absolutely stifling, what with the dust and dryness catching your throat and making you sweat so much that we used to sit in shirt sleeves or nothing at all. Not that that helped much either of course. Still, the old watch house did have windows, and some of them even opened too. But then, that had been the problem hadn’t it? They say no matter where you work ‘there’s always one’, and by the goddess they were soooo right! Our ‘one’ was Key Stroke, a violet coated mare in her thirties who dressed and acted like she was in her nineties. Luna’s arse, all she ever did was moan… and ‘when Key moaned, the office groaned,’ we always used to say. How one mare could hold the whole station to ransom was anyponies guess, but I suspect it was because we all had far more important things to do than concern ourselves about ‘sitting in a draft’. Ah, Keys… it was always too cold for her, wasn’t it? The thermometer could be boiling in its case and she would still whine and complain if somepony had the sheer affront to open one of her precious bloody windows! I swear that mare had ears like an outhouse rat too. Even the slightest movement of a latch, the creak of the sash being opened, and her ears would prick up in an instant. I seem to remember one time when the watch house commander had come downstairs from his office and opened the window, blissfully unaware of our staff member’s concerns regarding the apparently dangerous nature of fresh air. Outranked or not, the poor fellow had been subjected to a barrage from the incensed Key that not only had the window quickly closed, but the watch commander scuttling back to his office with his tail between his legs. Ah, yes, the good old days: sore hooves, half lamed through years of night shifts and eating poorly on the hoof, and then you’re dead. Good bloody job I paid into that retirement fund then wasn’t it! Still, I suppose Tingles and the gang would be benefiting from it – a damned sight more than I was. That was another thing about the herd too - money. You didn’t have to work here, it wasn’t compulsory, but it was… ‘encouraged’. You earned a kind of credit which you could use to buy things in the shops, but since everypony was generally content with their lot it all seemed rather superfluous. My own cynical mind saw it as a way for the royal family to keep their herd of the dearly departed from trying to kill each other out of sheer boredom. Actually, I’m not sure how that would work if you were already dead. Could you even be killed twice? I was dragged from my ruminations by the delicate tones of my wife’s papa…

“Have you given any more thought to my offer, Fairlight?”

Honestly? No. When Pop had asked me originally to join his ‘old boy’ network of former watchponies, the last thing I’d wanted was to be reminded of the ‘old me’ and the life that had been snuffed out as quickly as a candle in a downpour. I’d loved my old job, for the most part. Sure there were times I’d wished I’d chosen a different path in life and cursed the watch to the high heavens, but I kept on coming back to the same old truth - I was a watchpony through and through. Cutie marks notwithstanding, I was, for the most part, blissfully happy with my lot in life, and never a day went by where I wasn’t reminded how it was that it was that very same career that had lead me to stand beneath a certain tree on a certain day and met the mare who would one day become my beloved wife, Meadow. She was so beautiful, so full of life and love, that… well, the rest was history now wasn’t it. That career, as much as it had brought me to her, had been the very same reason I’d lost both her and my unborn daughter at a time that should have been filled with joy and hope for our future as a young family. Gods, how I hated thinking of that dark period of my life. I’d spent countless years trying to stop myself from slipping back into the pit of anger and despair that, even now, was never that far away. The counselling sessions had helped I suppose, and I had to admit it was hard to reconcile the brutal murder of the one you love when she was sleeping next to you in bed when you woke up in the morning with the sunlight filtering through the net curtains and her breath tickling your ear. The herd certainly had a way of bucking your mind in a way that had you questioning your own sanity. I also took comfort in the fact that I wasn’t alone in my confused state either. Meadow herself had been through the trauma of being violently assaulted, raped and murdered while pregnant with Sparrow, and by comparison my problems paled into insignificance. ‘Sparky’ my ‘case worker’, for want of a better word, had been keen to point that out to me whenever she got the chance too. You know, I’m sure that in her own bizarre way she genuinely thought she was helping me, but to be constantly told that ‘you might be having problems but remember what happened to Meadow?’ did absolutely nothing to settle my troubled heart. If anything it actually made matters worse, adding a heavy sense of guilt to my already rocky mental state. Still, as difficult as my assimilation into the herd was for me, Meadow was always my focus, and my metaphorical anchor that held the chaos of the rudderless ship in a storm that was the local celebrity, Fairlight. Thank the gods that nonsense had settled down. I barely received a second glance now. It was quite the change from the initial screaming and running away that had accompanied my first appearance in the local town. Who would have thought that Miss Jubilee, the enigmatic owner of the ice cream parlour, would have been the one to achieve something that all these bloody ‘counsellors’ could not: to make me feel… welcome. I never wanted to be a celebrity, and I certainly didn’t want fame nor any of the fancy trappings that went with that either. No, I just wanted to be left alone and to have a nice, everyday, boring life. Gods above, I’d had all the excitement I could handle for more than ten lifetimes, let alone one!

“Fairlight?”

Apple Pop’s voice drifted to me from somewhere far away, far off in the world that was lost in the rhythm of the driver’s hooves. Trit-trot, trit-trot, trit- trot. I yawned; I’d been up all night listening to Pop droning on and on about his bloody garden and that blasted group of stuffy old farts he was so obsessed with. It was enough to send anypony to sleep. Warm sunlight played across my muzzle, bringing with it the gentle scent of apple blossom and lavender.

“Fairlight? Dad’s speaking to you, love.”

I could feel the gentle allure of sleep tugging at me, the warmth of my mare beside me, my daughter snuggled into my side. Gods, who gave a toss about boring old… old… farts…

“So, what happened to you then?” the mare asked.

The stallion looked up, a little embarrassed at the question. “Oh, mm, I… I fell off some scaffolding.”

“Goodness!”

Gods, you had to love this place. The plastic smiles of the counsellors, the cheerful pink and yellow wallpaper and the equally sappy posters that blared out ‘BE HAPPY!’ from every bloody wall. It wasn’t a request apparently.

“And what was the last thing you can remember, Phil?”

“Oh, mm...”

Oh, gods! When you got ‘Phil’ talking about his past it would likely be the last thing you ever heard before throwing yourself out of the window just to get away from him, never mind the bloody scaffolding!

“I heard… I heard...”

“Yes, Phil?”

There was a painfully long pause as Phil stared off into the distance. “It’s hard to remember.”

“I know it’s hard for you, Phil, and you really don’t need to try if you don’t want to, but all your friends are here with you, and we all love you. Don’t we everypony?” The counsellor waved her perfectly manicured hoof at the rest of us encouragingly.

“Yes. We love you, Phil,” the rest of the inmates intoned. Sadly, including myself. Bloody hell it was always the same old mantra every blasted time too: ‘we love you – fill in the name of the messed up pony of your choice’. I for one can assure you that I did not love ‘Phil’. Of course, ‘for the sake of propriety’, as I’d been told, none of us used our real names here. In fact that was one of the very first rules we’d had pounded into us from day one, and Miss Lentil certainly loved her rules all right. Not that it made a great deal of difference considering we all called each other by our real names when we buggered off for a swift half in the local tavern at the end of class of course, and if you ask me, that was the real ‘therapy’ here. But as always there somepony had to spoil your fun, not that there was much to found here, and for me that was in the form of Meadow’s warning for me to be on my best behaviour during these sessions. The cunning creature had even given me the ‘foal eyes’ routine and a plaintive ‘Please Fairlight… for me?’ Gods damn it! She knew I couldn’t say no to that! What was worse though was that her interminably annoying friend ‘Ms Sparks’, or ‘Sparky’ as a I liked to call her much to her annoyance, was a regular visitor to our home. Ostensibly it was to give my wife regular ‘progress reports’ from the counselling service like I was some hormonally challenged wayward school foal! Every time the stripy pain in the hocks came round she’d talk about me like I wasn’t even there, but when I left the room, Meadow would complain that I’d ‘gone off and left her’! Cue attendant argument and feelings of guilt…

Phil’s voice sounded distant. “I heard...”

“Come on Phil, we know you can do it!”

“We love you Phil!”

“We’re here for you!”

“Oh for bucks sake...”

“Fairlight, did you have something to say to Phil?” Lentil’s orange eyes burned right into me.

“We love you, Phil!” I exclaimed a little more sarcastically than I meant. Still, it seemed to do the job for the eternally attention seeking Phil.

“I heard… a voice...” The charcoal coated stallion held his muzzle in his forehooves. “I thought it was the voice of the goddess, calling to me from the beyond, and I looked up to the sky, watching the clouds slipping by, and the feeling of… flying.”

“Pity you’re not a pegasus really,” I muttered.

Lentil shot me another look and turned her enormous smile back on her painfully willing victim. “Can you remember what the goddess said, Phil?”

“She said...” Phil paused for doubtlessly dramatic effect. “She said...” He took a breath, “You did remember to tie that rope, didn’t you?”

I had to stifle a snigger as the hopeless looking fellow hung his head whilst Miss Lentil put her foreleg round him and stroked his mane. “It’s alright Phil,” she said gently, “you’ve done exceptionally well today. Bringing out the memory of our last moments can be painful for us, but it is that acceptance of what happened that is the first step on the road to acquiring the peace and tranquillity of the soul which the gods want for all of us.”

You had to admire Lentil I suppose, she had to deal with emotionally damaged ponies on a daily basis, and was a mare who you could say without any doubt, was dedicated to her craft. Personally I thought a lot of this huggy, floofy, and sickly sweetness nonsense was a right load of old bollocks.

“Dave, would you like to go next?”

“Me? Uh, sure.”

‘Dave’ was an aquamarine pegasus who always came across to me as the sort of guy you could really get on with, especially after a few wheat beers.

“I can remember flying through the Tallow Forest, just west of Ten-Fall Pines,” he began. “It was quite a cool evening out, and the sky was as clear as glass. There’s nothing like it, flying like that with the stars above you and the wind beneath your wings. We were really gunning it too.” He sighed, casting his eyes to the ceiling as looking to a place far, far away. “We’d been on a recon mission at the time, and we’d just stopped for the night in a clearing when a call came in that the guy we’d been looking for had been sighted nearby.” The dark coated pegasus sighed. “We don’t normally fly at night as a rule.”

Lentil leaned closer, her smile attempting something approaching ‘warming’ but coming across as more of a menacing leer. “What happened, Dave?”

Dave clopped his forehooves together. “I can remember the words of my wingpony...” He sighed loudly. “He said… ‘watch out for that tree!’ and then...” Suddenly the pegasus clopped his forehooves together making everypony jump. “SPLAT!!!”

“Oh…um, I see. That’s… really awful.” Lentil readjusted her mane as she tried to recompose herself. “So, who would like to go next?” Her eyes alighted on me and I could feel my blood go cold under that orange gaze. “Bob, how about you?”

‘Bob’… gods give me strength. I took a deep breath. “I was blown up.”

I suppose it was a forlorn hope, but the inquisitive mare pressed on, “Blown up?”

I gritted my teeth, trying not to subject her to the usual Fairlight, or rather ‘Bob’ sarcasm. “There was an explosion and I was standing too close to it,” I explained. “I don’t know what caused it to be honest, but the next thing I knew, I was here, dead as the proverbial.”

Lentil nodded sagely. “Sometimes the mind finds it difficult to reconcile with the soul when there are questions left unanswered,” she said softly. “The conscious mind tries to find those answers, those reasons as to why what happened to us happened the way it did. The reality however is that there are sometimes no answers to be found, no matter how hard we look or how much we may wish to know them. Looking for them can only cause pain where there should only be the joy of life within the ever loving embrace of the gods. The only answer any of us need, the true answer, is within ourselves. Our soul, the light of love and kindness that is our true essence gifted to us by the gods themselves, can never truly die. The mortal body is only a shell for the soul until that inevitable day all of us come home to the herd. It is here that the concerns and troubles of the mortal body can no longer hurt us. It is here where everypony can truly be at ease and feel the warmth of the goddess’s sun and the love she has for us. Even death cannot restrain that most precious of things each of us has which makes us who we are: our soul.”

I was left sitting there in absolute silence, my heart thundering in my chest. Was she right? Had the answer to all of my worries been inside me all along? It sounded like a load of psychobabble on the one hoof, but on the other… maybe she was right. I didn’t know what to say… Perhaps a change of direction was needed?

“So what happened to you, Miss?” I asked quietly.

By the look on her face, Lentil apparently wasn’t used to being asked questions, but to her credit she simply nodded as she gave me an inscrutable smile. “Me?” She chuckled under her breath. “There’s not much to tell really. I was a young mare, not much more than a filly really, and I did what so many girls my age did. I fell in love.” She sighed, her face taking on the now familiar far away look I’d seen so many times before on the other attendees. Lentil was gazing into a time and a place, long, long ago, that only she could see. “It was the time of the great war,” she continued, “the time of what we call now the ‘war of the three tribes’.” Everypony stared at her in amazement. Good gods, just how old was she?! I’d heard the war with Nightmare Moon and the Legion referred to as the ‘Great War’ before, but never the war of the three tribes. By my estimation the conflict she was referring to was somewhere around a thousand years before the war between the sisters, which itself was a millennia ago. That made her what, two thousand years old? And she didn’t look a day over twenty either. Good old herd; forever young, eh? She reached up and idly fiddled with her mane. “He was a soldier with the pegasus royal army,” she said quietly.

“They had a royal family?” Dave asked in surprise. “What about Celestia and Luna?”

“The princesses?” Lentil shrugged. “Just children then I suppose. It was such a long time ago, I can’t really remember.”

“But they fought Sombra and the Crystal Empire didn’t they?” Graham, the light tan unicorn chirped up helpfully. “That was after the war of the three tribes, wasn’t it?”

Our other pegasus attendee, Derek, laughed. “Somepony should have spent more time at school...”

Ivy, the unicorn and sole mare of our mentally scarred band piped up, “Oh, belt up ‘Derek’! If you’re such a clever dick, why don’t you enlighten us with your sage wisdom, eh?”

Derek sniffed loudly, “I’m not a bloody history teacher, go and read a book or something why don’t you.”

The counsellor intervened by the simple expedient of banging her hoof on the arm of her chair. “Please! Everypony, just… let’s just settle down and I’ll finish my tale, yes?” Miss Lentil looked up at the clock. “It’s nearly home time anyway.

“Yeah, put a sock in it, Derek, I want to hear this,” Dave chimed in helpfully. I wisely decided to keep quiet.

“Dave’s right, the war with the Crystal Empire came after the war of the three tribes.” Lentil nodded to the beaming earth pony who shot Derek a smug grin. “Derek will probably know about this of course, but the pegasi and the unicorns did have their own royal family back then. The earth ponies on the other hoof were a little, shall we say ‘looser’ in their hierarchy.”

“Poor as bloody dirt you mean,” Dave muttered.

“Hah!” Derek the black and white patched pegasus barked. “You got that right!”

Lentil held up a hoof, “Yes Derek, we were poor, but we had something the pegasi and unicorns didn’t have, and that was food, as well as the knowledge of the earth and bones of the land necessary to produce it. But that’s besides the point.” She rubbed a foreleg over her muzzle, clearly exasperated with the eclectic mix of misfits in my class who spent more time moaning and bickering than doing anything, gods forbid, practical. “It was around the time when hostilities began to break out,” she explained. “The royal family of the pegasi took exception to one of their own being involved with one of the lowly earth pony ‘dirt grubbers’.” I barely noticed her eyes flicker to Derek, but he noticed it alright. The silly sod turned as red as a beetroot. “They forbade us from seeing each other again, and as if that wasn’t bad enough, my beloved stallion was… punished.”

I blinked and raised a hoof as the afternoon’s dumbest question left my lips. “What did they do to him?”

A sad smile ghosted across Lentil’s face. “They clipped his wings.”

“Those… They WHAT?!” Derek shot out of his chair, his face a picture of horrified outrage. “Oh, no way! They wouldn’t do that! That’s an act that’s-”

“Banned?” Lentil finished for him. “It is now, but not then.” She got up and took her seat behind her desk. “We take a great deal for granted now,” she said gravely, “and society in the mortal world has come a long way. Seraphim, my stallion… never flew again. He was locked away in the cloud city of the pegasi. And as for me… well, a mare with a foal out of wedlock was a crime that was punishable by banishment or execution.” Silence fell like a lead weight in the room, drawing every eye. “I was sent out into the wilderness of one of the harshest winters Equestria had ever known.”

“Did… did you have your foal?” Ivy breathed.

Lentil nodded sadly. “She was stillborn. She was a beautiful little pegasus too: red, with a mane as pale as the snow where I bore her. I name her Snowfall, and buried her beneath the tree’s of a forest where, to my knowledge, she lies to this very day.”

“But what about you?” I asked. “Did you…?”

Lentil shrugged. “I never left that forest. Except to come here of course.”

“Oh, Lentil...” A loud sniff drew our attention to the tearful Ivy. “I’m so sorry...”

“Don’t be,” Lentil smiled. “I have a good life here now, and I’m happily single too.”

“You didn’t meet back up with Seraphim?” Derek asked.

Lentil shook her head. “As I said, I was a lot younger back then and besides,” she shrugged, “Seraphim wasn’t the same as I remembered him. And I suppose he felt the same way.”

“He’s with the herd,” Ivy whispered.

“Well, duh!” Derek piped up. “Of course he is, unless he decided to ‘take the plunge’ if you know what I mean.”

Ivy rolled her eyes and turned back to Lentil. “What about your baby?”

“Snowfall?” Lentil smiled. “She’s the editor of ‘Tapestry Weekly’ now.”

Hang on… ‘Tapestry Weekly’… that was that magazine Meadow read! Oh, gods, the editorial page! I thought the name sounded familiar, the editor’s photograph was at the bottom with a silly grin on her face and she was, as Lentil said, a bright red mare with pure white hair. Gods above, the herd strikes again! Dead relative? Just hang around long enough and you’ll see them again, whether you wanted to or not. In Lentil’s case everything had worked out well, but… Celestia’s arse, no wonder ponies were so messed up. Instead of saying goodbye to our deceased, it would be better just to say ‘Put the kettle on pet, I’ll be along in a bit’, and the next thing you knew you were sitting down to a plate of fancy cakes, cucumber sandwiches, and a cup of tea with a twenty year old in the prime of life you’d buried not that long ago. This was madness, absolute madness, and here I was right in the middle of it all.

“So you see, everything works out the way the gods wish it in the end,” Lentil summed up for us neatly. “We live, we die, we live again. Just as we were meant to.”

“Seems a bit bloody pointless if you ask me,” Derek said pointedly. “I mean, why bother being ‘mortal’ in the first place if we have to come here anyway?”

Dave nodded to his pegasus compatriot. “Gotta agree with Derek here, Lentil. What is the point? Seems to me we’re going from A to Z to come back to B.”

Lentil bobbed her head towards a painting on the wall of two magnificently radiant alicorns. “There are things in this universe that only the gods can understand, Dave. No matter how hard we search, no matter how much science progresses, we could never even begin to scratch the surface of the mysteries of creation, nor hope to understand the depth of knowledge the gods possess. Perhaps it is better not knowing the answers to such questions, no matter how much we may want to hear them.”

“I’d second that emotion,” I announced, quoting the old song. “And thank you for sharing that with us, Miss Lentil. I think it’s… helped.”

“Thank you, Bob,” Lentil replied, and collected her bag from underneath the desk. “I seldom talk about myself as a rule, but it feels good to do it every now and again.” She glanced up at the clock. “Well, that brings us to four o’clock everypony. Time to pack up for the day. Don’t forget take your things with you and I’ll see you all same time next week.”

The group, highly trained and raring to go, stood and shuffled to the door like surly teenagers. What a bunch! And the best part? I was part of it! Sometimes I felt like giving Meadow a piece of my mind regarding her inflicting this ‘therapy course’ upon her dearly beloved. Gah! Therapy! Well, I suppose that wasn’t entirely fair. Lentil’s story had been interesting, if a little short on detail, but when I’d seen that look of pain in her eyes, that haunted look that even now after two millennia tainted her heart, it really did make you think. Sadly, about things I’d rather not think about too. I’d left Shadow, Tingles, and little Lumin, not to mention all my friends and my little dragonling, back in the mortal world to enjoy an eternity of peace and tranquility with my wife and child. Obviously it wasn’t through choice, being turned into a kebab by a piece of your exploding home has a tendency to promote large portions of death, but still… gods it still hurt. All this ‘feel good about yourself’ and ‘let’s sing songs about friendship everypony!’ did nothing to change reality, nor do much to ease my troubled heart either. Gods bless Lentil, she was trying her best, and as cynical as a I am I suppose there was the possibility she actually really had helped me. Kind of. Oh, who am I kidding?! I just wanted to get away from there, get home and-

“Hey Bob, you grabbing a pint before you get off?” Dave gave me a prod in the shoulder. “Hey, anypony home in there?”

“Huh?” What a mess, I was acting half cut and all I’d had was a cup of that godawful vending machine coffee too. It might have been strong, but it wasn’t that strong! Come to think of it, vending machines were an anachronism here it seemed to me. They were one of the few ‘modern’ contrivances that had actually been allowed into the herd by the tradition loving royal family from the inaccessible confines of their ivory tower. Miserable buggers probably had all mod-cons secreted away in there whilst ensuring the rest of us lived in a near post-medieval state. I gave the aquamarine pegasus a tired look, “Nah, not today mate, I want to get back to the missus and put my hooves up. This mind massaging stuff knocks hell out of me.”

Derek shoved between us to collect his hat and coat. “Booorrrriiinnnggg!”

“Thanks for the advice, Derek,” I muttered sarcastically. “But hey, you go and soak yourself in wheat beer all you want buddy.”

“Yeah, just don’t try and fly home afterwards, eh?” Dave added in his cheeky tone. “Don’t want history repeating itself now, do we?”

“Oh, piss off!” Derek snorted. “Do you think this is some sort of death one-up-pony-ship? Give me a break!” He reared on his hind legs and performed a surprisingly accurate impression of our esteemed teacher. “Oh Bob, your death was sooo much more exciting than the others! Oh, come here Bob, take me behind the desk and ravish me senseless you hunk of stallionhood you.”

“You’re a real arse, Derek, do you know that?” Ivy pushed past us to taken down her own hat and coat. “Do you always have to be so obtuse all the time?”

“Ob… What?”

“She means you’re being an arse, Derek,” Dave observed helpfully. “Come on, Bob, let’s go for a pint. I’m sure your other half won’t miss you for a few minutes, right?”

The sputtering Derek flared his wings angrily, but thankfully knew when to keep his oversized opinions, and equally large mouth, shut. Huffing under his breath he trailed after us shooting daggers at the back of Dave’s head. Somewhere along the line, and against my better judgement I might add, I’d fallen into step with the others as they head for the local tavern. Dave was right I suppose, Meadow wouldn’t be expecting me back for a while yet and I’d be perfectly fine having only the one before I headed off home. Besides, she was always going on about me putting myself out there to ‘mix with other ponies’, and this would be an ideal opportunity to do just that. Having said that, I’d been very careful with my drinking ever since that dreadful incident when we’d been newlyweds living in Manehattan. I’d been in the watch at the time, and I’d ‘only’ gone out for ‘a few’ then. The ‘few’ unfortunately turned into ‘lots’, and I came back so mind numbingly inebriated that I’d nearly drowned in my own vomit. In fact the only reason I’d survived that alcohol soaked ordeal was down to the loving ministrations of the long suffering Meadow, who’d cleaned me up and put me to bed despite my self-induced state. Celestia’s rump, I still can’t remember much about that night other than the dread that I’d hurt her, and… I think… I think I had, hadn’t I? Oh goddesses, I had! Hell fire, this was exactly why I didn’t like getting drunk, and had counted my fortunes every day for being lucky enough to have a wife who loved me unconditionally and one whom I knew that a lout like me didn’t deserve. The gods know, she must see something in me that I can’t.

We walked up the stone steps of ‘The Fig Tree’, the strategically placed tavern frequented by both students and lecturers from the local college. As more, what you might call ‘mature students’, and not even proper ‘students’ at that, we fell under the same umbrella which gave us a few perks we wouldn’t normally otherwise receive. In this case it was a free salt lick and bowls of some spicy snack things that I absolutely adored. Now normally I didn’t go in for hot foods, but these were just right. They were a mixture of short, crunchy curry spiced things, together with dried peas and sultanas that I could have eaten by the sack load. Good grief, give me a nose bag, a pint of wheat beer, a seat by the fire, and I’d be the happiest pony alive. Or dead.

“I’m going to powder my muzzle.”

“Okay, Ivy. Usual?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Wheat beers, guys?”

We all nodded as Dave trotted over to the bar and Derek slumped in the chair next to me, watching Ivy head for the mares room. “Powder her muzzle...” he groused, folding his forelegs, “Put any more make-up on that snout and she’d be a fire hazard.”

I chuckled. Derek was a pain at times, but there didn’t seem to be any harm in him. I shrugged, “You could try getting along with her you know.” I grinned cheekily. “Maybe she likes you?”

“Oh, come on!” He snorted. “Me and her? Fetlocks and feathers, can you imagine it? It’d be like being back at school again being bloody well lectured all the time. Don’t say this, don’t say that, come this way, go that way, fetch me bloody carry me!”

“She’s not that bad,” I replied, “besides, some ponies like being dominated.”

Derek leaned forward, ignoring the last part of my remark. “Look, I’m not saying I don’t ‘like’ her,” he said quietly, “I do, sort of, it’s just that she’s always so bloody miserable all the time! Pegasi need other pegasi. You know what I mean?”

“No?” I took a sniff of the deliciously spicy mix the landlord had thoughtfully brought over. “Is this some sort of racial superiority thing?”

“I’m not a bloody racist if that’s what you’re implying!” Derek snapped. “It’s… Oh, you wouldn’t understand.”

Phil ghosted over carrying a tray of sandwiches and pulled up a chair, expertly placing the neatly cut snacks in the middle of the table. “I think it’s down to the wings,” he said in his familiar slow tone. “Earth ponies and unicorns don’t know what it’s like to be one with the wind.”

Derek’s eyes were as wide as saucers. Apparently he’d found a kindred spirit. “Yes… YES! Exactly!” He clopped his hoof on the table top. “Exactly, Phil! Good gods, where did you learn stuff like that?”

The charcoal coated stallion stretched his muscular legs and yawned. “Mum’s a pegasus.”

“And your dad’s an earth pony?” Derek asked, motioning towards Phil’s smooth flanks.

Phil shook his head. “Nope, both pegasi.”

“Oh, goddesses...” Derek looked horrified.

I think I must have missed something here, so in typical Fairlight fashion I blundered right on in and my mouth was in gear before my brain had received it’s wake up call after being asleep for the last few hours of class. “But you’re an earth pony.”

“Remarkable powers of observation on display there, Bob,” Derek sniffed, turning back to our colleague. “Luna’s ears, buddy, that must have been hell for you.”

Phil shrugged. “It wasn’t easy.” He took a hoofful of the spicy mix and I felt a twinge of loss as a sizeable portion disappeared into his mouth. “They kept me in Cloudsdale when I was growing up, but earth ponies… well, you know, we don’t exactly ‘stay up there’, if you know what I mean.”

“Stay up there?” I asked, and suddenly realised, “Ah, you can’t walk on clouds, can you.”

Phil shook his head. “You can still walk in most parts of Cloudsdale. We used to have visitors from the surface all the time: traders, tourists, and so on. Problem was, living with pegasi I suppose I sort of saw myself as one.”

“Is this how you...” Derek waved a hoof, “ended up here?”

Phil shrugged. “Maybe. I always was a bit careless. Mum and Dad could never come to terms with me being an earth pony, and they refused to send to me to school on the surface. So when I left school I decided to try and find my hooves by going into construction. I took a job with ‘Slate’s’ in Fillydelphia. It wasn’t that bad a position to be honest with you, and the money was pretty good too all things considered.” He shook his head sadly. “Ironically it was a contract we had for the new arena in Cloudsdale that did for me.”

“They had a contract in Cloudsdale?!” I asked in amazement. “But Slate’s Construction are mostly earth ponies, aren’t they?”

Phil nodded. “Mostly. They’d brought in pegasi builders as well as their own teams to work on the project. There were supposed to be safety measures in place to ensure the builders were safe: magical barriers, netting, all that sort of thing.”

Derek shook his head. “Slate’s were the ones with the bad reputation for safety standards weren’t they?”

I nodded. I could remember numerous incidents involving workers at Slate’s Construction sites being reported over the years, particularly during my time in the watch when these guys were snapping up contracts country-wide. Their track record however, had not gone unnoticed. In the face of public concerns over the rising number of accidents, the national press had had a field day. ‘Heath and Safety’ ponies had looked into the matter of course, however they had a disturbing tendency to write the ‘accidents’ off as simply down to ‘Equine Error’ rather than any corporate incompetence or lack of safety protocols. The lads in the watch suspected the fact that Slate’s daughter, who just happened to be the minister in charge of ‘Public Safety’, the overseeing governmental department that controlled matters involving Health and Safety, may have had a little something to do with that. Slate’s had been the ones who’d nabbed the contract for the extensions at Manehatten General too. Somewhat ironically, Meadow had often complained to me about all the broken bones she’d had to mend at the hospital whilst the new wing was being added. Most of the injuries, unsurprisingly, had been the very ponies building the place. Personally I don’t think the nursing staff expected to have so many new patients before the extension had even been finished! Still, at least they didn’t have far to travel for treatment. But, as with all things, the truth eventually leaches out one way or another. Too many injuries combined with the press nosing about, had brought the matter to the attention of the palace, and heads began to roll. Metaphorically speaking of course.

“They ended up being fined by the Royal Safety Commission for breaches of health and safety regs,” I said. “Cost them quite a few bits too, if I remember rightly.”

“Not enough to save me from coming down to earth like a sack of bricks,” Phil replied sarcastically. “Something I wouldn’t recommend you tried unless you had wings.”

“Couldn’t somepony have caught you?” Derek snorted. “Where the hell were the safety crews?!”

The answer was simple enough: “Lunch break.”

And of course, ponies being the sociable creatures they are, they’d doubtless all buggered off at the same time too. “Well, at least it was quick, Phil, that’s all I can say,” I pointed out. Yeah, my demise had been anything but, and I’d lingered long enough to see my loved ones horrified expressions as I left on my less than merry way into the afterlife.

“Three wheat beers and one gin and tonic. Ice, no lemon.” Dave plopped the drinks on the table with practised ease. “Huh! I’ve seen more cheer in a grave yard. What are you three looking so miserable about?”

“Nothing,” Phil said taking his drink. “Just about how we ended up here.”

“Oh, please! Can we leave that sort of thing in the classroom guys?” Dave rolled his eyes as he took his seat. “I don’t want to be reminded of that story Lentil told us. Some of us have to sleep at night you know.”

My sentiments exactly! I took the wheat beer and immediately caught the malty aroma and hint of hops. It was delicious.

“Hey, we never found out what happened to Ivy.” Derek’s unwanted observation was timed to perfection.

“What about it?” The unicorn mare in question, freshly ‘powdered’ or whatever it is mares get up to in bathrooms, appeared behind Derek like the spectre of Hearthswarming. “Noticed I exist at last have you?”

Derek swallowed. “Um...” He coughed nervously, “Just… y’know, wondering. Nothing wrong with that is there?”

“Well you can keep wondering, because I’m not saying. So tough,” Ivy huffed.

Dave lay a hoof on her foreleg. “It’s alright, Ivy, we weren’t being nosy, we were just talking about what had happened to each of us. Miss Lentil said that it would help us integrate better if we spoke about it amongst ourselves.”

I nodded my agreement. “Nopony is going to make you say anything you don’t want to. This is supposed to be a voluntary class after all. Besides, we’re meant to be enjoying ourselves aren’t we?” I reached for the bowl of spiced mix only to find to my horror that the last of it had already been snaffled by the now spicy crumb coated Phil. Greedy sod…

Derek muttered something under his breath, and Dave gave him a curious look. “Huh?”

Dave sighed, “I said… I’m sorry, okay? Celestia’s arse, Ivy I’m… yeah...”

“Hmph!” Ivy sniffed loudly and took a sip of her gin.

She was an interesting creature, rather quiet compared to the rest I suppose, and was, in Derek’s defence, a little prone to being negative in her comments. Mostly towards him for some reason too. Who could say why? Maybe she really didn’t like him, or then again… maybe she did? Ah, the ways of mares was a deeper mystery than any I’d ever fathom. Meadow being one of them. We’d been together now for… I don’t know how long. Time here was strange; days could seem like years, and years days. As I was told by Star Swirl that cranky old wizard, it was best not to think about it too hard. Part of me suspected what he actually meant was that I was mentally incapable of working it out for myself, and perhaps there was some truth in that. Personally I thought he was a manipulative and scheming old sod who used ponies in the afterlife like pawns in a game none of us knew we were playing. Gods, why couldn’t ponies just give us some peace? Hadn’t we been through enough already? There was definitely something going on with him, and it wasn’t just that business with Vela either. I don’t know, I just couldn’t quite put my hoof on it, but I sure as hell didn’t trust him as far as I could throw him. Since our clandestine ‘meeting’, for want of a better word, with Maroc the last lord of the wendigo tribe thrown into the mix too, I’d been left hanging out to dry until such time as he saw fit to include me in his latest nefarious scheme. Oh sure, bait me with the ‘the end of the world is nigh, and your family is in mortal peril!’ line and then, ‘we shall speak more of this at a later date, Fairlight’. Oh yes, you just couldn’t beat hanging around waiting for ‘something’ to happen. Or not. Anyway, Meadow wasn’t any the wiser and life, or death rather, had gone on much the same way as it had since I’d arrived here. My ears pricked up; apparently the conversation had carried on without me, and I looked up from the forlorn looking empty snack bowl to see four three pairs of eyes looking right at me.

“Anypony home?”

“Oh.” I gave my mane a shake and took a sip of my beer, “Sorry, what were we saying?”

Dave clucked his tongue. “We were wondering why Miss Lentil gave us these odd names?”

“Er, anonymity I suppose,” I said quickly. “She probably thought it was embarrassing to be in her class. Mental health concerns, and all that stuff.”

Phil nodded, “That’s what I said.”

Derek shook his head. “My point wasn’t ‘why’, it was ‘what’.” He rolled his eyes dramatically. “I mean, who the hell comes up with names like Bob, Dave and Derek? At least Ivy is a normal name.”

“Who knows what she’s seen in her time,” Dave replied. “She’s been around a lot longer than we have.”

“I know!” Ivy chimed in. “Can you believe she’s as old as the war of the three tribes? She’s probably as old as the princesses!”

“Oh yes, the ‘eternal virgin’,” Derek snorted. “I wonder how many of us are here because of that crinkly old baggage.”

“Don’t call her that!” Ivy snapped suddenly. “How dare you! Celestia is a wonderful mare who loves her people unconditionally. You haven’t got a clue what she’s had to sacrifice to keep her land together and all of us safe from her enemies.”

“Yeah? Didn’t keep me very safe now, did it?” Derek retorted. “Got me and bunch of my mates killed hunting for some bloody cosplayer pretending to be a wendigo of all things.”

My ears pricked up but I held my peace.

“I heard about that,” Phil replied, “it was the talk of the construction teams for a while, and we were all wondering whether it was true or not. Some of the boys even thought they’d seen it, but we all knew about that whole ‘alicorn hoax’ business in Manehattan so we didn’t give it much credence really. Didn’t stop the boss bollocking them for wasting time staring at clouds when they should have been working though.”

“What happened with that then?” Dave asked. “The whole ‘fake alicorn’ thing?”

Phil shrugged. “It was a marketing ploy apparently. Something to do with ‘fashions fit for the gods’ or some such rubbish. Local news was full of it for days and the local religious leaders acted as if it was Ragnarok or something.”

Dave chuckled. “The end of the world brought brought about by a stick-on horn, eh? Luna’s lugs, I can remember the leaders of the clergy freaking out over it at the local temple! Hey, did you ever see the photo of him?”

Phil shook his head. “Nah, heard about it though. Wearing sunglasses wasn’t he?”

Dave nodded. “How in Equestria anypony took that seriously was beyond me. For Celestia’s sake, the guy kept reappearing wearing different outfits each time. Somepony must have been wetting themselves laughing over that one!”

“Still not much of a reason to mobilise the army and royal guard to hunt the poor bugger down though was it?” Derek replied.

“They hunted down the fake alicorn?” I asked in surprise. “Bit over the top, don’t you think?”

Derek clucked his tongue. “Not that one you berk, I meant the wendigo fella.” He stretched his wings out and settled back into the chair. “You didn’t hear about it?” I shook my head and played dumb. Derek closed his eyes and groaned. “Goddesses above… Well, I suppose I was going to have to tell you all about it in naughty boy school sooner or later anyway…” He took a sip of his beer. “I was in the royal guard see? Had been for years, too. There I was biding my time until retirement, a fat lump sum and a very nice final salary pension to look forward to at the end of it, and ‘boom!’ it all hits the fan doesn’t it?” Derek sighed as he stared into his now half-empty pint glass. “I was dossing about doing some pointless guard duty at the palace when the sergeant at arms comes along and says, ‘Come on lad, gorra a job f’yer’.” He groaned loudly. “‘Transporting a prisoner’ he said, ‘Easy job and an early knock off’ he said. Huh! Yeah, right...”

As rapt an audience as Derek had, I was surprised to see Ivy’s reaction. She looked scared, her eyes wide and ears drooping as if getting ready to run or hide. She’d barely touched her drink too, and instead kept staring intently at the story telling pegasus as if he had suddenly sprouted two heads or something.

“So what happened?” Dave pressed.

Derek shrugged, “Oh, we got him.”

“What, they actually caught the wendigo?!” Phil gasped in surprise. “I thought you said a minute ago they didn’t exist!”

“I said he was a cosplayer,” Derek huffed. “Just some grey coated guy that looked a bit like miladdo here.” He jerked a hoof in my direction, and in the process drew Ivy’s gaze like iron filings to a magnet. Hell fire, they were all bloody well staring at me now!

I laughed it off with a wave of my hoof. “Yeah, all these amazing powers sure come in handy for making ice cubes. Maybe I could hire myself out at Miss Kitty’s Ice Cream Parlour. She’s always complaining about the freezers breaking down.”

“Huh, you wish!” Derek smacked his lips together as another round somehow materialised before us. “Nah, guy we had was half dead, scarred from forelock to muzzle too, with white stripes in his mane and tail and a lightning flash for a cutie mark.” He pointed to mine. “Can’t change those things, buddy.” Derek leaned forward almost conspiratorially. “But you want to know what I remember most about him?” Everypony held their breath. “It was his eyes. Blue as the eyes of the ocean’s depths, as empty as death, and when they fixed upon you, they could strip your soul...”

“Strip your…?” Phil swallowed. “But he was just a pony, right?”

“Well, he was a unicorn alright, but no wings, no howling winds and blizzards to be seen,” Derek snorted. He took a long pull on his beer and gave a shudder, “Whoever he was he’d pissed her nibs off well and truly, and we were to escort him out to the border for banishment.”

“Banishment...” Ivy whispered under her breath. Goddesses she was beginning to give me shivers with the way she was staring straight ahead, as though looking not at me, but through me.

Derek cocked an eyebrow in her direction but decided to ignore her. “We were on our way to drop him off when this gang of thugs appeared out of nowhere and ambushed us. Bastards were armed to the teeth too, and were packing beam weapons of some kind.” He took a sip of his drink. “Anyway, the carriage was hit during the firefight, taking our ‘cargo’ down with it. Before we knew it the whole thing, pilots and all, pancaked into the ground before smashing into the river.”

“Dear goddesses...” Dave shook his head in disbelief. “Who were they?”

“The ones who attacked us?” Derek shrugged. “Buggered if I know. Maybe they were mates of the guy we had, or ones who wanted him dead. Either way, it was a complete cock-up from start to finish.”

“So what happened next?” Dave asked.

Derek laughed, “I wished I could swim, that’s what happened!”

“You were the pilot?” I asked helplessly, “I… I didn’t know. Dear gods...”

“Hey, Bob, you know it happened, like, ages ago buddy, yeah?” Derek shook his head at my shocked expression. “Least I didn’t get blown up like you, eh?”

I closed my eyes, the horror of those events replaying through my mind like a runaway train. “I know, but still...” Hell fire, I could still see it: the water, the bubbles and swirling mass of rope and wood acting as a giant washing machine, with me in the middle of it trying to stay alive, desperate to escape and… I’d never given a thought to the pilot, had I? I’d assumed he’d been killed in the sky. It never occurred to me that he might have still been alive or that I could have saved him. But… could I have?

Derek bopped me on the head. “Hey! Don’t go all quiet on us, now. That’s Ivy’s job.”

Ivy for once said nothing. Instead, she just sat and stared at me. Those big slate grey eyes of hers bored into mine, as cold as stone and twice as chilling.

“Huh? Come again?” Dave blinked in surprise. “What did you say, Ivy?”

Ivy’s lips barely moved. “I said, ‘What’s your name’?”

I froze, the pint glass floating halfway to my lips held in the blue glow of magic illuminating my face and reflecting in Ivy’s unusual pale grey eyes. The tension around the table changed in an instant from cheerful camaraderie to a chilling sense of inescapable pressure. “My… my name’s-”

“-Corn Bread,” Derek announced with a nod of his head.

My brain momentarily derailed. “I’m sorry?”

Derek rolled his eyes. “Your name? Duh!” He turned to Ivy and winked, “I win.”

Where in Equestria he’d got that from was anyponies guess, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to correct him. I’d settled pretty well into the herd recently, despite the fact that Ms. Sparks, my ever cheerful ‘case worker’ clearly took delight in reminding me that it was ‘still early days yet’. I guess she was right, after all, every now and again other ponies who’d recognised me from the newspaper articles when I visited the local town would react to me as if I were either a minor celebrity or the instrument of the keeper of the underworld. Being left alone was a tall order in the herd it seemed.

Ivy frowned at me, her eyes narrowing to near pinpricks of intensity. And then, in a heartbeat, the bubble burst. “Corn Bread,” she said softly, and gave a short chuckle. “Hah, what a fool.”

Phil scratched his ear. “Huh? Did I miss something here?”

“I thought...” Ivy shrugged and drooped her shoulders in apparent resignation. “I thought you were somepony else, Corn Bread. Sorry about that.” Turning to the grinning pegasus, she raised an eyebrow quizzically. “So how do you know his name then, ‘Derek’?”

The pegasus grinned. “I overheard him speaking to his wife when she dropped him off. Pretty little thing she is too.” He gave me a toothy smile. “Lucky bugger. Anyhow, now that that’s out of the way, the name’s Booster.” He waggled his eyebrows at Ivy, “Although some like to call me, ‘the thruster’.”

Ivy flushed bright red as the pegasus burst out laughing. “You’re sick!” she snapped. “What in Equestria possessed me to join a class with a bunch of perverts?! I knew I should have joined the other intake. At least there were some girls there and not a load of sex crazed imbeciles like-”

“Hey! I’m a married stallion, thank you very much,” I cut in. Good grief, the last thing I wanted was rumours spreading about my being a pervert thanks to a tentative association with ‘Derek’ or ‘Booster’ or whatever his stupid name was.

“Stallions are all the same. All of you,” Ivy snorted loudly as she berated us imperiously. “All you ever think about is mating, and it’s no wonder you’re single, ‘Booster’, if you carry on like that around mares.”

“Nah, I don’t carry on like that around mares, Ivy,” Booster smirked. “It’s just for you, my favourite unicorn class-mate.”

Ivy looked like she was about to spontaneously combust when, thanks be, Dave came to the rescue. “Stone Coaster.”

“WHAT?!” Derek shot out of his chair.

In response, Dave, or ‘Stone Coaster’ apparently, lifted the corner of his overcoat to reveal a pair of small pale grey disks on his flank. “Mum and dad named me after their favourite movie detective. I think you tell how well that worked out.”

“Stone Coaster?!” Derek tried to cover his mirth with his forehooves, but the effect was only worsened by the fact his wings were standing straight out and quivering helpless. “You were named after that movie detective? The one who walks around with a lollipop in his mouth all the time?” He plucked a toothpick from the condiment set on the table, propping it in the corner of his mouth. “Who loves ya baby?”

I had to admit he really pulled off the deep gravelly voice of the grizzled detective from the silver screen pretty well. Meadow had always loved those films and, if I’m being totally honest, I kinda did too. Thankfully the herd catered for all tastes and the local town was well furnished with everything from bowling alleys, ice cream parlours, to theatres and cinemas. Personally I enjoyed a round of mini golf but Meadow couldn’t stand it and would disappear off to the shops whenever I wanted to play. A shame really, but I suppose it was those little differences that helped make our marriage interesting. Besides, I hated shopping.

“Bow Saw,” Phil said, introducing himself with a shrug. “Clues in the mark as always.” And sure enough, there was a neat depiction of an old fashioned wood saw on his flank.

Unfortunately every eye was now on Ivy who visibly balked at the unwelcome attention. “My name’s… Autumn Shower.” Rather than showing us her cutie mark however, she almost subconsciously tucked her navy blue overcoat over her flank. “It was… it was my great grandmother’s name.”

“It’s lovely, Autumn,” Dave said politely. “Isn’t it fellas?”

Dutifully we all nodded and smiled, although I had the distinct impression that our fairest Autumn was far from comfortable, and indeed I was painfully aware of the way she spent the rest of the time with our little group staring at the clock on the wall. The atmosphere was dreadful, not least because I knew that I was indirectly responsible for the death of one these guys, but now because we were all trying to do anything but make eye contact with one another whilst keeping horribly silent. It was definitely time to make my excuses and leave, but still, I couldn’t help but wonder where Derek had got the name ‘Corn Bread’ from, nor why he had been so quick to leap to my defence when Ivy had locked onto me. Curious indeed. I’d have to think on this more later, but for now at least I’d finish my drink and say goodbye. By the looks of things the rest were starting to have the same idea too.

“Well, I think it’s about that time,” Stone Coaster said, stretching his forelegs. “I don’t want my other half smelling drink on me when I get home. Last time I did that she wouldn’t speak to me for the rest of the evening.”

“Harsh,” Bow Saw observed.

“Nah, her ex boyfriend killed the two of them in a chariot crash after he got himself ratted,” Stone replied. “Showing off like that never ends well.”

Autumn snorted, “Terrifying your girlfriend to impress her?” She shook her head sorrowfully. “I’ll never understand stallions.”

Stone nodded as he collected his overcoat. “I hate to say it, but it’s something of a pegasi trait. We always like to be faster and quicker than the others. Unfortunately Pinto wasn’t a pegasus, and when her dimwit other half lost control of the chariot she had no chance.”

“Earth pony?” Bow Saw asked.

Stone nodded.

“Don’t mind the cross-species thing, huh?” Booster asked. He avoided the sharp glance from Ivy.

Stone chuckled. “Just because she doesn’t have wings doesn’t mean she doesn’t have value as a pony you know.” He gave me a curious smile. “What about you, Corn Bread?”

Goddess help me, I think I preferred ‘Bob’. “Meadow’s a unicorn too,” I said. “We met under a tree in our home town and things just followed on from there.”

“Any kids?” Booster asked.

I nodded. “I’ve two. One’s here, and the other’s still in the mortal world.”

“Sucks to be dead, huh?” Booster replied. He passed Autumn’s overcoat to her and leaned over to whisper something in her ear. “You guys go ahead, I’m going to walk Autumn home. She’s looking a bit peaky.”

Whether she was unwell or not, the unicorn mare didn’t resist, only looking up at the clock one more time before, with a lot of smiles, hoof shakes and dreadful jokes, she joined us as we filed out towards the exit. And it was at that exact moment my stomach decided to start rebelling. A disturbing rumbling emanated from deep inside my bowels, one that I hoped the others hadn’t heard. It had been doing that a lot lately too for some reason, although exactly why I had no idea. Maladies were rare in the herd for reasons that were pretty obvious, but whenever I went for a drink of anything even vaguely alcoholic, the Fairlight digestive system went into meltdown and the resultant gas eruptions could clear a room faster than a kicked bucket full of flash bugs. “I’ll see you next week folks,” I said with a smile. “Go on without me. Nature’s calling.” I didn’t stop to wave them all off, I knew what was coming next. Pain, hot and cloying, ripped through my gut with an urgency that had me all but throwing myself into the stallions bathroom. Thank the gods nopony was in there, but that didn’t stop me from sliding on the wet tiles and slamming into the row of porcelain sinks with a heavy thump. Hissing in pain I shoved the stall door open and tried helplessly to reach the door lock, hang up my overcoat, and all the while attempting to aim my posterior into the optimal position for-

“Oh… GODS!”

I suppose if nothing else, at least the pain was gone. Pretty much in an instant too. I can only thank the gods that nopony was in the stall next to me when the contents of my digestive system had launched their sudden assault on the previously pristine porcelain. The noise, both from the impact with the water and my own gasps and groans was almost deafening, shaking even the mahogany of the stall. I flattened my ears trying to pretend that nopony else could hear me, but if I’m honest they could probably hear me in the next town over. The sense of relief when it was over was palpable to say the least and, thankfully, almost immediate despite my breaking out into a sweat that made my head spin for a few moments. Unfortunately for me, my guts hadn’t quite finished with me yet. Nausea gripped me, sending its warm waves through my body and made the whole experience one that I wouldn’t have wished on my worst enemy. Well… comparatively speaking anyway. Like most ponies I would imagine, I hated being sick. The way your stomach cramps up and the horrendous vertigo which accompanied it was something that I tried to avoid at all costs, but when it started there wasn’t a damned thing I could do to stop it. I’m not sure whether the nausea was caused by the stomach cramping or the smell, but right then all I could do was try to keep myself upright and lean against the cool woodwork, praying to any gods that would listen to make this all end. Come to think of it though, how was this even possible? Pain and misery were supposedly the exclusive domain of the mortal realm. In the herd, ponies didn’t get sick. There was no mystery to it; you were just a spirit weren’t you? Sure you got cold, hot, wet from the rain, or could injure yourself through accidents and so forth, but regardless of what injuries you may acquire you healed up pretty much right away. Even the alcohol here had little to no effect other than making you a little tipsy and stink like an old bar towel so your other half could give you a damned good tongue lashing when you got home. It was a drunkards dream, or a nightmare depending upon your point of view. For me however, it was definitely the latter. Shoving myself against anything I could find that was cold enough to help leach the heat away from my body, the spinning and churning of my guts finally began to subside and I reached up to try and pull the chain on the toilet. It wasn’t as easy as it looked, and took more than a few flushes to swill away the evidence. Hell fire, I was a mess. Sweating, disorientated, and looking like I’d been half drowned with my mane and tail in the kind of state I didn’t even dare think about right then, I collapsed onto the floor gulping the cool air of the stall as my legs quivered like jelly. What the hell was wrong with me? I’d have to see a doctor about this, I couldn’t just pretend there was nothing wrong and… and what if I had something contagious? What if this was some weird wendigo type sickness that I could pass on to Meadow and Sparrow? There was no way in this or any world I would put my loved ones at risk, so I would have to-

“Hello?”

A voice from beyond the door echoed in the quiet bathroom, making my ears prick up.

“Are you alright, sir?”

Damn it all… I swallowed, rubbing a foreleg across my soaked muzzle. “Yes… yes, I’m fine, thanks.”

“Does sir need a doctor?” the voice came back.

“No… I…” I tried my legs and, mercifully, what little strength I could muster allowed me to at least stand. “My stomach’s a little upset that’s all,” I replied. Slowly, I reached for the lock and flicked it open, swinging the door aside as I found myself looking into the concerned eyes of a short red unicorn stallion with bright green eyes and silvery grey hair. He was wearing a rather old fashioned looking three piece suit with a neat dark blue tie with tiny silver stars on it. Funny how you notice these things. It was probably my mind’s attempt at distracting me for the overwhelming sense of feeling like death warmed up. Figuratively speaking of course.

“You don’t look so well, sir,” the stallion said in a worried voice. “Come on, let me help you up.”

I’ve always been an independent sort of fellow, but right then I was more than happy to accept the stallion’s assistance. And so, with a much welcome shoulder to lean on, he lead me to the wash basin.

“Take a seat sir, and we’ll get you cleaned up spick and span in no time.” The red stallion guided my rear onto a convenient wooden stool. “My name’s Jelly Bean. Pleased to me you, mister…?”

“Um… Corn Bread,” I managed.

Jelly Bean nodded. “Very good, sir.”

I stared blearily into the mirror at the hideous mess staring back at me. The neat grey coated stallion Meadow had fallen in love with all those years ago was now something that looked like the kind of reeking street drunkard I used to collect on a Friday night when I worked for the Manehattan watch. The fumes that came off some of them could have sent you to your knees, but we’d have to collect their sorry carcase nonetheless. Unfortunately the stink, and occasional splashes of vomit, wouldn’t do your uniform any favours. I can attest to that little issue wholeheartedly. Still, a few hours in the cells, a cup of strong coffee and a lecture, usually did wonders for our wayward brethren. But to think that I looked like one of those dishevelled disasters on four legs was painful to me in more ways than one. I’d nearly lost Meadow through drink once before, not to mention making myself look like a complete arse in the process too. Why she’d stayed with me after that humiliating fiasco spoke volumes about her character; far more than it did for my own. It took several minutes of introspection before I realised what the damp and cooling sensation was on my fur. It was Jelly Bean, using a rough flannel dipped in clean water rubbing me down from muzzle to tail.

“Not the best, sir, but it should suffice until you we can get you home,” he said politely.

“Mmhmm...” I sighed, letting the stallion work his magic. He was damned good too. The water was just the right temperature, the flannel simply perfect. I wasn’t used to being groomed, at least not by somepony other than my family. Having a loved one sorting out your coat, mane, tail and so forth, was something couples did for one another as a matter of course. Well, it was normally. Unfortunately I’d been banned from going anywhere near Meadow or Sparrow’s hair since I’d tried to trim our daughter’s mane to avoid the hours of boredom spent in the local salon. Good grief, I could still hear Meadow’s screams of outrage in my ears even now! How in Equestria was I supposed to cut it straight when the little pest kept squirming every which way when I was using the scissors? Okay, so maybe I’d trimmed a ‘little’ more than she would have liked, but if I hadn’t it would have looked uneven wouldn’t it? And there was absolutely no need whatsoever for insisting that she wear a hat and a dress that covered her tail until it grew back. I mean honestly, talk about melodramatic!

“Sir’s hair could do with a trim, if may be so bold sir.”

“Huh?” I blinked in surprise at the reflected image of Jelly Bean holding up my tail. “Oh… Um, yeah. It’s not been done for ages.”

“Would sir care for a trim?” the red coated fellow asked. “On the house, of course.”

“On the…?” I gave myself a quick shake. “Er, sure, why not?”

I must have been in a daze of sorts, my mind befuddled by the sudden evacuation of what felt like my entire intestinal tract. I was light headed, disorientated, but the damp flannel had felt so wonderful, so cooling... Beside me the red stallion rinsed and dried my mane before going to work on my tail. Normally I would have been mortified at the thought of somepony, especially one with scissors of all things, going anywhere near my rear. Even when Meadow trimmed my hair there was always that primordial fear of things sharp that you couldn’t see suddenly cutting into your skin. But Jelly Bean, whoever he was, had managed to accomplish the unenviable task of putting the old Fairlight mind at ease, and in short order he was snipping away at my mane and tail whilst I simply sat and moved as he directed.

“Are you the resident barber, Jelly Bean?” I asked conversationally.

The stallion’s reflection nodded, his short silvery-grey mane making him appear to be a lot older than he probably was. “I work here odd days, sir,” he replied pleasantly. The flash of gleaming metal caught my eye as a little more of my tail fell away. “The gentlecolts bathroom here is highly conducive to a more effective grooming experience.” I nodded dumbly as he continued, “I happened to be setting up ready for work to commence tomorrow morning when I noticed sir’s… predicament.”

“You got that right,” I muttered.

“Is sir feeling any better?”

I nodded. “By the second, J.B.” I took a deep breath, feeling the cool air filling my lungs. “I don’t think I’ll be drinking again though. Ever.”

“Imbibed a little more than usual, sir?” he asked.

I shook my head. “Not really. Two, maybe three, tops. I don’t normally drink much at all anyway. Never have really. When I was a teenager I had my first encounter with alcohol and ended up clinging onto the side of the toilet praying for the merry-go-round to let me off.” I let out a bitter laugh. “You’d have thought I’d have learned my lesson by now.”

The red stallion nodded. “It’s never too late to learn something new, sir.” The snipping continued, the rhythmic sound oddly soothing in the cool of the gents bathroom. “I myself took up a new trade after my arrival in the herd.”

“Barbering...” I said quietly.

“Indeed, sir.” Jelly Bean took out a comb and sprayed my tail with more water. “Long, short, mid-length?”

“Oh, um… short, please.”

“Very good, sir.”

Goddesses this guy new his work well. My tail trimmed, he moved to my mane, carefully trimming around my ears and keeping the cut ends away from my eyes. “Sir’s coat is a little long. Perhaps a clip while you’re here, sir?”

Hell, why not? “Sure thing, J.B.”

A few moments later the blue glow of magic enveloped a pair of clippers accompanied by a low buzzing sound and the tingling sensation against my hide. Oh gods, this felt… wonderful! I hadn’t felt so relaxed in an age, and I let the red coated stallion work his own unique brand of magic on me. Fur fell away, as he worked, from my back, my hocks, muzzle and down my hooves. Unbidden, Jelly Bean pulled over a hoof stand and began trimming and filing my hooves. Curiosity got the better of me.

“So what did you do before you became a barber?” I asked.

Jelly Bean smiled pleasantly. “I was an architect, sir,” he explained, “I worked on several projects which, I’m proud to say, stand to this very day.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, sir. The royal palace, the most magnificent building to grace the land of Equestria.” He sighed. “At least, it was before the war.”

I paused. “Canterlot? But… the war with Nightmare Moon was before the new capital was built wasn’t it?”

Jelly Bean shrugged. “I see you know more of our history than most, sir.” He shook his head, “No, the palace I worked on wasn’t Canterlot.” Jelly Bean stopped and looked at me in the mirror. “It was Elysium.”

“The place where the fallen heroes of old were taken by the alicorn guardians of the spirits...” I closed my eyes, remembering my first days in the golden fields of wheat beneath a warm sun as I held my beloved in my forelegs. A vision of beauty unbound by worldly concerns with only the two of us, and Sparrow of course. You couldn’t go anywhere without that excitable little thing whizzing around grounding you in reality.

“That is the classical definition,” Jelly Bean replied in his soft voice, “I was in actual fact referring to the capital city of the king.”

Suddenly the realisation of what he was telling me ran through my grey matter as quickly as his scissors clipped my hair. I blinked in surprise, “You’re talking about Sombra, aren’t you?”

He nodded. “The king of the Crystal Empire. As I said, sir, that was before the war.”

“War...” I sighed and closed my eyes. “Before even the war with the legion.”

Jelly Bean smiled sadly. “Long before, sir.”

“And now little more than a memory, and a vague one at that.” I had to admit the schooling on Equestria’s past left an awful lot to be desired, even for those who, like me, had actually bothered to pay attention in history class. The aversion to the teaching of history was, I believe anyway, more to do with the equestrian aversion to talking about ponies hacking each other to pieces rather than the now more common practice of arguing points through leafleting campaigns and interpretive bloody dance. Mostly anyway. I felt my heart sink; hiding from reality had been an equestrian pastime which had been surprisingly effective, at least until those bloody portals appeared and some enterprising small time crooks entered the big league by selling ponies for weapons and gems for drugs. Dear gods, what had happened to us? Was peace really just a facade? Perhaps it was merely some transitory illusion to keep the masses quiet before the next wholesale slaughter began. I was beginning to wonder whether ponies had ever been the frightened prey animals we’d always been lead to believe we were descended from, and instead were all borderline psychopaths ready to snap at the drop of a hat, launching into a killing rage of death and blood. And yet… sometimes, in the dead of night when the sky was full of stars and the moonlight was streaming through the window, I would lie there awake, remembering all of those whose lives I had taken. I could barely remember the names now. Maybe it was just as well too. I changed tack, “What was the palace like, J.B?”

“It was… magnificent, sir.” A wistful smile ghosted across the stallion’s face as he gazed off across the bathroom. “Eight stories tall, all built in the very finest rainbow crystal which our farmers grew not five miles away. His majesty had given me free rein to design his home, saying only that he wanted a palace that was ‘Strong, but homely. A place that will awe visitors but be capable of protecting those who shelter within its walls.’ It took all my skill, all the love of my craft and the best labourers and masons the empire had to offer, but when it was finished… Ah, what a sight it was to behold! Towers that reached up into the heavens as though trying to pierce the sky, with bridges that linked the keep to the farthest corners like the spokes of a wheel, all leading to that most magnificent of magical gifts: the heart of the empire.”

“I wish I could have seen it before it was destroyed,” I said dreamily. “Now, all that’s left are a few trinkets and stories fit for love sick fillies.”

“Oh, the empire wasn’t destroyed, sir,” Jelly Bean said in a matter of fact manner. “The princesses locked it away, frozen in time in another dimension where the citizens, and even the king himself, sleep to this very day.”

“Sleep?” I swallowed, feeling a chill run through my heart. “Dear goddess, that sounds like a vision of hell to me. Locked away, neither alive not dead? I think I’d rather be here.” I frowned and looked up at the barber. “I take it you weren’t there when the empire was locked away then?”

“Apparently not, sir.” Jelly Bean smiled that thin smile of his. “I was outside the empire’s limits at the time of the final assault and was mercifully saved.” He shrugged. “And here I am.”

I nodded, letting my shoulders relax once more. I hadn’t even realised how tense I’d been until this wonderful fellow had eased it away. “Well, I for one am glad you are, my friend,” I said. “The herd needs ponies like you. You’re an absolute miracle worker, J.B.”

He laughed, “Ah, if only that were true, sir.” He gave me a nod, taking a step back. “All done.”

“Huh?” I looked down and… my reflection stared back at me… from my hooves! Good goddess!! “How the-?!”

“Just some wax and lacquer sir,” Jelly Bean explained. He held up a smaller mirror behind me. “Enough off?”

“I… My gods, J.B, I’ve never looked so good!” I really hadn’t either. The scarred and worn looking mess I had become in the mortal realm had become little more than a bad memory since coming to the herd. For the most part, here in the afterlife everypony looked like they were in their mid twenties, but this… this was on a different level altogether! As I examined my flank I could see the defined lines of the coat clipping that made me look slimmer, sleeker, and dare I say it, dashing? I felt a grin spreading across my face. “I don’t know what magic you used, but...” I shook my head, “I’m lost for words.”

Jelly Bean raised an eyebrow as he began to sweep up the cut hair from the tiled floor. “No magic, sir, just experience and an eye for detail. I find the work pleasantly therapeutic, and I get to meet a lot of new faces as well.”

“Therapeutic...” I hung my head a moment, the hint of reality pushing in and threatening to overwhelm my good mood, “I think all I’m getting these days is ‘therapy’. Everypony thinks I’m finding it hard to fit in.”

“Ah, you’re taking part in the acclimatisation program?” Jelly Bean nodded knowingly to himself. “A noble and necessary cause, sir. If not necessarily always as effective as one would like it to be.”

I looked up. “You’ve been on it?”

He nodded. “A long time ago.” The stallion took a deep breath, placing the bottle of pomade back on the shelf beside him. “My family were within the limits of the heart’s protection when the end of the empire came.” His voice never wavered, allowing not even the barest hint of the pain he must have been feeling inside. “My wife and two sons were trapped when the dimension spell was enabled. I never saw them again.”

“J.B...” I lifted a hoof but quickly put it back down. This fellow had lost his loved ones, and even after countless centuries, he still loved them. At least here I was able to be with my wife and daughter again, yet for him, for this simple barber, he had been denied the loving embrace of his family even in death. Nothing I could say would ever change that terrible reality, nor ease the pain in his heart.

“As I said, sir, it was long time ago.” Jelly Bean gave me a smile, changing the subject with practised ease. “All set for the ladies now, eh, sir?”

I didn’t know what to say, except, “Yes… Thank you, Jelly Bean. Oh! How much do I owe you by the way?”

The barber shook his head. “You don’t have to pay, remember?” Jelly Bean chuckled suddenly. “I merely do this to help my fellow stallions look their best, helping in my own small way to bring out the true gentlecolt that lies within us all. And it is something of a hobby to me as well I suppose, sir.” He raised an eyebrow. “Perhaps sir would find taking up a hobby of his own would help?”

“A hobby?” I frowned in thought. Maybe… maybe he was right? I wasn’t particularly bored, not with a wife and a hyperactive foal who could fly out of my reach faster than I could blink, but… perhaps if I looked into it I could find my niche the way he had? “I’ll give it some thought, J.B.”

“Very good, sir.”

I gave myself another quick inspection in the mirror and smirked. I still couldn’t believe the transformation. “Thank you,” I said dumbly. “You’re a miracle worker, Jelly Bean. It’s been a genuine pleasure to meet you.”

“And you, sir,” Jelly Bean smiled back at me. “My card.” He floated a small business card to me. It was brown, with smart gold lettering and the image of a pair of scissors below the words:

Empire Grooming
Quality barbering for the discerning gentlecolt
155b Quartz St, Polmere Spa.

Polmere Spa? I’d never heard of it, but then there wasn’t much I did know of the land of the eternal herd beyond my home, the surrounding hills and fields, and of course the local town, Haven, where I went shopping with Meadow. I suppose there was always the enigmatically named ‘welcome office’ along with the hotel that was barely ever used and… that was about it really. Good gods, was that it? Had I really become so insular and lacking in imagination that all I wanted was to live in as small a bubble of peace and tranquillity as possible? What the hell was I afraid of? I suppose it wasn’t all that surprising really when you considered everything that had happened to me. I’d crossed worlds, passed through the veil of life and death more times than I cared to recall, and travelled to the Wither World where I’d met Shadow. I’d even travelled through portals to the land of the changelings and the world of humans. I had been involved in more adventuring than most ponies would ever dream of, particularly when the average equestrian in the street’s idea of ‘adventure’ was a swift half down the Fig and Ferret followed by a haybacon burger and fries. Wow! Would the excitement never cease?! Anyway, I’d done my stint in the mortal world. I was dead, and that was that. All I wanted was right here, with my wonderful wife, my lovely foal, and some day, Shadow, Tingles and even my cute little Lumin… I closed my eyes and felt a shiver run through me. Something was nagging at the back of my mind, making my head feel like it was being squeezed.

“Don’t forget to call at the doctor’s, sir,” Jelly Bean reminded me. “The herd are rather strict on tackling maladies.”

I sighed, nodding slowly. That bloody guidebook had said something about that hadn’t it? Probably accompanied by a friendly picture of a cartoon pony with his muzzle in a bucket just to emphasise it, or maybe simply for the semi-literate. “Thanks, J.B. See you again.”

I trotted out of the bathroom into the warm air of the lounge bar. Compared to the deliciously cooling air of the bathroom-come-barbershop, the bar was nearly stiflingly hot. Sunlight streamed through the leaded light windows, illuminating dust motes floating through the air that was as still as the grave. Strangely appropriate when you thought about it. Nopony gave me a second glance as I trotted over to coat rack and reached for my overcoat and hat. I paused. You know, why wear it? Why conceal the wonderful work that Jelly Bean had done to the old Fairlight hide? No, to hell with it! I bundled up my belongings and stuffed them into my panniers, draping them over my back and, lifting my hooves up smartly, I trotted out into the refreshing breeze of another beautiful day. The smell of grass was intoxicating. Nearby a pony was mowing the lawn, while beside the tavern several ponies wearing white clothes and hats played lawn bowls. The pleasing ‘clack’ of the black spheres followed by the applause of the few spectators was so idyllic, so calming, I felt like rearing and going for a run. A little sore I may be, but by the gods I felt good. Really good! Right, sod the taxi, I was going to walk home. No… Run. Yes, that was it! A damned good gallop! I nickered and gave a loud snort before turning to the road. A deep breath and-

“Fairlight?”

“Gah!” A pair of yellow eyes stared right back at me. “Bloody hell fire! Meadow?!” I stood back, nearly collapsing onto my haunches in alarm. “Celestia’s buttocks, don’t sneak up on me like that, I nearly soiled myself!”

The green coated mare shook her head in dismay, dismissing my words as my lecturing began. “I was worried sick! When you didn’t come home on time I guessed you’d stopped off to have a chat with your friends, but that was hours ago. Where in Equestria have you…” She paused, her eyes narrowing as she leaned closer. “Have you been to a salon? Your coat…” Meadow gasped in surprise. “I don’t believe it, you’ve been the salon!”

“I haven’t been to the salon!” I protested helplessly. “Give me a break love, I was a bit poorly and the barber helped me out that’s all. He gave me a free clip and cut to help me feel better.”

“Good grief, Fairlight, you know we’re meeting mum and dad at the station tonight,” Meadow continued to lambaste me. “You remember what I said before you left this morning don’t you? ‘Come straight home’, right? We were supposed to be having a quick tea and then...” She froze, her head craning round to stare at my flank, legs, hooves and mane. “Did you say you were poorly?”

“That’s what I was trying to say!” I groaned loudly. “Meadow, I stopped for a quick one with the students and then I was going to come home, honestly. It wasn’t my fault I was sick.”

Meadow leaned her forehead against mine. “You do feel a little warm.”

“I’m not surprised, It’s bloody well roasting out here!” I huffed. “Why do you think I took my coat off?”

The green mare shook her head, “No, I mean you’re running a temperature.” She frowned in concern. “You shouldn’t be able to get sick, love. Not here.” Meadow’s years of medical training kicked in and I was helplessly swept along in her outpouring of determination. “We’re taking the taxi back to Haven. I’m not having you collapsing on me, Fairlight. This isn’t right.”

“Well that’s comforting,” I muttered. “Let’s hope it’s not fatal then.”

Meadow clucked her tongue. “This isn’t funny, Fairlight. You shouldn’t be able to get sick in the herd. It’s probably nothing, but I want you to get checked out just in case.”

“Oh, bloody marvellous! Not only sick in the head, now my flaming bodies falling to bits too,” I snorted noisily. “Welcome to the bloody afterlife.”

“Will you stop swearing!” Meadow gave a nicker and pushed me towards the waiting taxi. “Get that rump in there, mister, and no more arguing.”

“Yes, miss.” I sat down on the bench seat as Meadow climbed up to sit opposite me. Normally she sat next to me, but today for some reason she sat looking right at me. Something, or actually somepony, was conspicuous by her absence. “Where’s Sparrow?”

“At home,” Meadow said levelly, “with mum and dad.”

“Oh...” I felt my heart sink. “Oh, hell...”

“Mmm… quite.” Meadow shook her head slowly, shooting me a look that warned me against any negative comments on mumsy and dadsy. “Anyway, never mind that now, we need to find out what’s wrong with you.”

“Think I’m contagious?” I asked, a slight hint of sarcasm tingeing my voice.

Meadow raised an eyebrow to accompany a surprisingly sardonic smile. “It’s possible.” Suddenly she grinned, “but maybe I just wanted to look at you.”

My heart suddenly leaped into my throat. “Oh?”

The green mare tossed her pale two tone mane as her bright yellow eyes flashed brightly in a stray shaft of sunlight. “You look… smooth.”

Well, I certainly wouldn’t argue with that point! I grinned cheekily, “Do you like what you see, miss?”

“Mmm… very much so.” Meadow reached across and lifted up my foreleg. “Well, whoever this barber is he certainly knows his craft. He’s shaved even your feathering too, look.” She nodded towards the bottom of my now very smooth foreleg. “And I’ve never seen your hooves looking so neat and polished. What did you say his name was?”

“Jelly Bean,” I answered. I passed her the business card for inspection.

Now, I always tried to keep in trim, a habit from my days in the watch, but I certainly wasn’t the kind of fellow you’d call ‘vain’ by any stretch of the imagination. Hooves filed, clean teeth, clean hair and coat brushed and trimmed, was about my limit. In fact it was probably as much grooming as most stallions bothered with on a daily basis I would guess. Of course there were always exceptions to the rule, such as celebrities, dancers, singers and so on, who made a living partly from their public image. I could remember one chap who’d gone so far as to have stripes shaved into his fur making him look like some kind of bizarre zebra. Another had her name shaved into her side in gothic script. Rather sarcastically I thought it was so she could be readily identified when she was too drunk to find her way home. As an ex-watchstallion, I viewed the societal elite with more than a little disdain. Still, considering Meadow’s close inspection of my new look, smooth, apparently, was the way to go.

“Well he’s not one I’ve heard of before, but then boys don’t normally bother with the spa anyway,” Meadow shrugged. “Saves us having you looking scruffy at least.”

“Scruffy?!” I blurted.

Meadow looked me straight in the eye. “You don’t look after yourself, Fairlight, I keep telling you that. How long was it last time before you got your mane cut? I virtually had to drag you to the barbers!”

I couldn’t argue there. I liked to keep my mane and tail short as a rule. But going to the barbers? Gods how I hated that place! It seemed to run on its own time scale, where a second was dragged out so thin it made minutes feel like hours. And the smell? What the hell was that all about?! How did hair and fur stink like burning carpets? I saw water, shampoo, conditioner, hair driers and so forth, but certainly nothing that would cause the kind of stench that permeated the bowels of the barbershop. Dear Celestia, the aroma hovered in the air sinking into everything, and there was nowhere you could turn to escape it either. Every time the front door opened you could see everypony turning towards it trying to gulp as much fresh air as possible, but it was ultimately hopeless. The hot smell blocked any and all attempts at allowing anything so outrageous as oxygen into the place. Perhaps that was why the staff always had those peculiarly high pitched voices; from years of trying to breath...

“...and I don’t want mum and dad seeing you looking like you have been lately. It’s not healthy for you, Fairlight, and especially since we’re meant to be going out to the theatre soon. The tickets weren’t easy to find you know, not since the royal family are attending and you know how big names attract the crowds. Honestly, I don’t think you...”

The taxi wheels rolled on and on along the track back to our home. A bit like Meadow in that respect. Sometimes she could really just go on… and on, and on, and on. Bloody hell, couldn’t she just belt up for once?

“Fairlight, are you listening to me?”

“Mmm…” I hung my head over the side of the taxi, feeling the light breeze playing with my mane and tickling my ears. “OW!” A hoof clipped my hind leg, making me look up suddenly. Meadow’s eyes loomed large in my vision.

“No you’re not!” The green mare glowered at me. She was good at glowers, and this one was one of the best. “I’m getting sick of this, Fairlight! You’re not the stallion I used to know lately. You used to be full of energy and life, but this… the way you’ve been behaving recently.” She closed her eyes. “It’s really starting to wear me down.” Meadow’s shoulders slumped noticeably. Suddenly she looked older somehow. Her mane looked limp and her face lost its familiar vibrancy of life I had come to know and love so much. Was I the cause of this change in her? Despite the beautiful surroundings, our wonderful home and equally wonderful daughter, it was as if there were a hole in our lives, draining the hope and joy we found here. And horribly, I knew… it was me. Ever since I’d died, ever since I’d had to part from Tingles, Shadow, Lumin, and even little Tarragon, it was as though a part of me was missing, left behind in the world of the living, and I was no more than a shade of who I once was. I was a lie, an empty shell of nothingness living in a dream world where only the darkness was my friend. I could hide there, close my eyes and pretend everything was well. Even though I knew it wasn’t. The pit pulled at me, dragging my heart down into despair once more. Against it, fighting back with everything I had, I opened my mouth.

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah,” Meadow nodded slowly, “I know.”

With dreadful certainty I realised I was breaking my wife’s heart, hurting her in a world where there should only be the eternal light of the gods and the peace of everlasting love. I was an aberration here, a shade of life, neither here nor there. Damn that wizard. Damn him!

“Aren’t we going home?” I asked suddenly, noticing the turn off for our cottage passing us by.

Meadow leaned back in her seat and stared up at the sky. “You haven’t listened to a word I’ve said, have you.”

“Oh, right.” I took a shaky breath. “The doctors.”

“The doctors.” Meadow shook her head, “At least you heard that much.”

The taxi rumbled on up the hill and the colourful vista of the idyllic town of Haven hove into view. ‘Hove’… I’d always liked that word. It reminded me of flying, of sweeping through the clouds over the frosted peaks of home - down, down over the trees of the Everfree forest, following the winding crystal clear waters of the river to the hamlet where my family, my mortal family, awaited me. Gods how I missed them. Little lumin would be… how old now? I’d seen them only recently and he was just starting to speak. Tingles looked as wonderful as ever, and Tarragon… ah, little Tarragon! What a treasure she was. The tiny forest dragon with her emerald green scales that glinted an oily black in the sunlight would squeak and leap into my forelegs for a cuddle whenever she saw me. Nearly singed my eyebrows off too the little beggar. She would grow too, slowly of course, but one day she’d be strong enough to protect them in my stead. It was only until they could join me here of course, but that was a long way away. As for Shadow… Nopony had seen nor heard from her since I’d been blown to bits by the explosion. All attempts to contact her and reach the fortress, even if she was still there, and that was uncertain in itself, had failed. The protective magic surrounding the ancient home of the wendigo originally put in place by Celestia had been waning for hundreds of years, but for some reason had recently grown in strength according to Tingles. Fearing any risk to my beloved pegasus, I’d told her not to make any more attempts at approaching that place of death. Nothing good had ever happened there, at least not in my lifetime, and there was no way in hell I was going to risk Lumin’s mother. Shadow had run off chasing her namesake: shadows. I was gone, dead, and even if by some quirk of fate Star Swirl was right and there really was a thread that linked my frozen corpse to the eternal herd, then I wanted nothing to do with it. Nothing! Shadow would come to realise that and go home to the village soon enough, of that I had no doubt. She was hurt, grieving, and in many ways she was like an overly emotional teenager at times and could drive me up the wall! But… she was still family, and I loved her. I had to have faith, to cling on to the hope that everything would work out for the best in the end. It was idealistic perhaps, and optimism sure as hell wasn’t one of my strong suits, but if I didn’t have hope, what did I have? If nothing else I suppose, at least there had been no further attacks on my family since my demise, and life went on in Smiling Borders much as it always had. They’d even rebuilt the Wyvern’s Tail. That musty dark old place with its leaking roof, smoky open fires and hulking great minotaur maid, held special memories for me. Well, before some rat had turned it and many of the villagers to matchwood of course. It was probably full of song and happiness now anyway, with the bubbly orange pegasus mare chasing that overly energetic foal of ours through the table legs while songs were sung and music played as the grizzled veterans laughed. I wanted to go… I…

“Thank you, miss. Have a nice day.”

Yeah, right. Meadow thanked the cabbie, and in silence we walked over to probably the least used building in Haven, if not the entire herd. What was worse was that Meadow worked here too, and no doubt everypony here already knew everything about her ‘problematic’ husband before I’d even set hoof inside the damned place. What a treat! My polished hooves clopped up the stone steps as I followed in my wife’s wake. Moments later the floral smell of flowers and herbs hit me with all the subtlety of a flying sledgehammer as the wooden door opened. Somewhere in the back a bell tinkled announcing our arrival. In short order a white coated unicorn mare with a bright blue mane appeared floating a clipboard in front of her. It was probably more for show than anything, as I couldn’t see anything written on it other than the word ‘appointments’. It seemed the doctor’s day was as free today as it always had been. And always would be, most likely.

“Meadow?” The nurse looked at us in surprise. “Is everything alright? You aren’t due in until next week aren’t you?”

Meadow gave her a tight smile. “Hi, Surf. Yeah, mum and dad are visiting this week.” She nodded towards me. “Can you have a look at him for me? He’s been throwing up after having a few drinks.”

“Alcohol?” Surf asked.

Meadow nodded.

“What’s your name, darling?” the nurse asked.

‘Darling’… I hung my head, resigned to what they were going to do to me. “Fairlight,” I muttered.

“Fairlight Loam,” Meadow announced helpfully. Gods, how I hated that stupid surname!

“Ah, the other half eh?” Surf scribbled my name onto the appointments chart, noting the time. “Right, let’s get you looked at then. Doctor Cording is feeding his koi carp so he shouldn’t be long.”

Oh joy. Perish the thought that the good doctor would have his fish feeding fun interrupted by something so inconvenient as a bloody patient! I was nudged into a side room and guided towards a table.

“Up you go.” The nurse held out a hoof, and in short order I found myself being tilted back until I was on my side, my head on one of the most uncomfortable pillows I’d ever encountered. A pair of alarmingly pink eyes stared into mine. “Say ‘ah’.”

“Ahhh...” Bloody hell...

A wooden stick was placed on my tongue and a light shone in my mouth. “Hmm. No swelling, no redness or white patches.” Surf continued to check me over. “Has this happened before?”

Meadow shook her head. “He’s been having problems with integration since he arrived, but he’s never been sick before.”

“Hmm… Well, it’s not unheard of. Eating food off the floor or ingesting something poisonous could cause this, but the body’s harmony is only ever temporarily upset.” Surf looked round suddenly. “Ah, Doctor.”

Hooves and… something else, clattered into the room. It was hard to see with the light half blinding me, but I managed well enough to see the hooked beak leaning over me below large avian eyes. The name was out of my mouth before I knew it. “Grimble?”

“Grimble?” The doctor chuckled. “Name’s Cording, young fellow. Doctor Elocutious Cording, at your service. Guess you didn’t expect a hippogriff, eh?”

I shook my head. “No, not really.” I particularly liked the ‘young fellow’ reference. Perhaps I’d be getting a lollipop for good behaviour and not having a tantrum?

“There’s a few of us in Dawn,” the doctor said conversationally as he took the clipboard from Surf. “Some elect to go to the griffin realm of course, whilst others stay here. Best of both worlds, eh what?”

I’m sure there was another word for that sort of thing. Still, he seemed friendly enough, and reminded me of a young hippogriff who lived in Smiling Borders. It had been the night we went looking for Lumin, if memory served correctly, what now felt like a lifetime ago. In some respects it was. To my shame however I don’t know what had happened to him after that. Gods forgive me, I didn’t even ask him his name.

“Right then, let’s see if we can’t get you sorted out, eh?” The doctor adjusted a reflector on his forehead that nearly blinded me as it caught the sunlight. I opted for keeping my eyes closed until he’d finished. Meanwhile Meadow and Surf chatted about me as if I were a school foal; something I’d found mares had a rather disturbing tendency to do around males. Maybe it was a mother thing, but whatever it was I wish she wouldn’t keep doing it. Not when I could hear what they were saying anyway!

“Has he been going to the alignment meetings?”

“Yeah.”

“They should be helping him, Meadow. This isn’t good for you. Either of you.”

“I know, Surf, but what can I do? Sometimes he’s like the old Fairlight: happy and full of life, but other times it’s like he’s not really here at all. I don’t think he even realises it’s happening either. Sparrow’s noticed it too, and you know how children pick up on moods in the family. I’m worried sick, and I feel so helpless...”

“It’s alright, don’t worry.” Surf hugged Meadow, her voice gentle and full of concern. “It’s going to be tough for a little while, but it’ll be alright in the end. You’ll see.”

“I don’t know, Surf, I… I don’t...”

“Shhh… don’t cry… come on now.”

Sniffles and the stifled sounds of a mare crying assailed my ears and heart alike. I’d not realised how much I’d changed, nor in what way either. To me, inside, I didn’t feel much different to how I always had, but to Meadow my beloved wife, the husband she had married had indeed changed. I had to do something to fix this, I had to try and regain the true me. But how? If I didn’t know what was wrong, how the hell could I do anything about it? To his credit though, Doctor Cording continued his examination as though he and I were the only two in the room. Whether he was oblivious to the conversation going on only a few feet away from us or simply the consummate professional I couldn’t say, and in any case, the poking and prodding continued unabated. Suddenly everything went quiet, and a peculiar blue glow began to build up around me which I could see even through my closed eyelids. Humming filled my ears, and I stayed absolutely still as my horn started to itch. Magic had always had a peculiar tingling sensation which I was all too aware of, not least because I was a unicorn of course, but ever since I’d merged with the spirit from the Wither World I’d been able to sense details held within that most ethereal of energies that I had been blissfully ignorant of when I was… normal. Now there was a word! I wasn’t sure what the hell ‘normal’ was now, but by all the powers of the gods and goddesses I wished I could turn back time and avoid having anything to do with that damnable spirit, the darkness of the Wither World and… everything. Sometimes I just wanted to close my eyes, go to sleep, and dream. No, not dream. In my dreams I saw those I’d lost, those whose lives I’d taken, and the lives of those who’d given up their own because of me. Suddenly a jolt of power, a sense of something ‘other’, surged through me making me gasp aloud. The magic was tugging at me somehow, wrapping it’s tendrils around my soul, drawing on some part of me that I hadn’t sensed since… since…

“Strange...” Doctor Cording’s voice sounded as though it was coming from a long way away, his tone of voice muffled despite only being inches from me. “The readings don’t appear to be concurrent with anything I’ve ever...”

“Turn it off!” Meadow’s voice cut through the muzziness, full of alarm and-

“Hell fire! Surf, pull the power crystal, quickly!”

“I can’t! It’s jammed!”

“It’s going into a cascade effect. We have to shield him. Now!”

“Doctor? Doctor, what’s happening? Doctor!”

I wavered in and out of the now, my being lapping against the shores of reality like driftwood on an ebbing tide. It was warm here, comforting, and safe. I was at peace, at ease with myself and the world around me. And it was quiet. So, so quiet. Nothing could hurt me here, no dreams, no memories, only the peace of a spirit that had been through so much, yet now… now was as pure as the mountain sky, as unspoiled as the first snows of winter, and the breeze that brought the chill of the north. Here amidst the mountains, the frosted peaks of the bones of the world that grew upward through the snowy white clouds, I soared. No wings to hold me aloft, no body to hold me to the pull of the earth below, I was free. So free.

I smiled.

Chapter Three - The Labyrinth of the Mind

CHAPTER THREE

THE LABYRINTH OF THE MIND

In my youth it was my dream to find evidence of the truth behind the war between the princesses and the enigmatic figure known as ‘Nightmare Moon’. It is only through years of study and uprooting dusty old books and diaries of this dark time in Equestrian history that I have finally been able to identify twelve distinct battlefield sites across the nation. Sadly, over time some have been built over whereas others, such as the site known as ‘River Valley’, are protected by royal edict from ever being disturbed. Oh, how I wish I could ply my trade there, even just once! But today is special. Today I have found something so wondrous, so incredibly unique in the area of field archaeology, that I can barely contain my excitement at this remarkable discovery!

It was once a small riverside town, relatively small by today’s standards of course, but one that made its mark in the world by selling top quality hops, apples, and apricots. All three of which continue to be the main produce of the town to this very day. I confess I have sampled several of the local spirits which themselves are derived from the local fruit, and can heartily recommend them! But I digress. Being on the river gave the town enviable access to a wider market, and would have made this a tempting strategic location for any military operations. This fact alone should have meant that the town would play a much larger role in the war than it actually did. I now believe that this location has been overlooked by previous archaeologists and historians due to it being so far removed from the line of march that the war, for the most part, passed it by. I am of course talking about the town of Blue Water. And is it there that I found myself most perplexed when looking back through the histories and census of this quiet, sleepy region. After much investigation I discovered that Blue Water was in fact renamed after the war. This in itself is not unique of course. Indeed, many towns and villages were renamed after the war or simply wiped away from the history books as their inhabitants abandoned them to move to larger communities. But it is the circumstances behind this change that fascinates me the most. Blue Water was once named Belle’s Orchard, after the founder of the town, Belle Apple. Blue Water, from what I have been able to deduce thus far, was the site of a terrible fire that started when a nearby military storage facility took fire. Indeed, if one takes an aerial view of the town, the crater left by an explosion is still faintly visible, albeit now little more than a roughly circular dimple in the surrounding landscape. More noticeable however is the distinct change in the buildings as one travels outward from the town square, heading towards the site of the crater. Older buildings remain mostly gathered in the centre, with newer constructions spreading outwards in a direct line to what was the cause of not inconsiderable destruction. Official town records are sparse, apparently starting for the most part after the fire. When I enquired with the town clerk about this she simply stated that the earlier records had been destroyed in the fire. I find this to be a little hard to believe. Why? Because there is something else in this town, something hidden. I can’t quite put my hoof on it, but I have the feeling that there is much more to this curious place than I have been able to uncover so far, and also, that I am being told. The ponies here know something, of that I am certain. It may be old folk lore, it may even be superstition, but I will find out what the secret of this place is and record it for posterity. Ponies need to know of their past, and it is the job of the archaeologist to uncover not only old bones and remnants of what has gone before, but also to chronicle the truth for future generations. And so, tomorrow I will be paying a visit to the town library to see if there is anything there which can add more to my understanding of this place. Afterwards I may treat myself to an ice cream. I hear the apricot is particularly delicious at Ginger Spice’s parlour at Tempest’s Landing. In fact, I may just go there first. Always did have a sweet tooth!

Extract from the personal diaries of Sweet Pepper, graduate of The Royal School of Higher Eduction, Canterlot.

********************

I have to admit, I felt amazing. Whether it was as a result of drinking, smoking, and being with other stallions or something else entirely, I couldn’t say. The good doctor’s assessment of my situation was something I would have to take at face value. After all, he’d done a damn sight more for me than all those other quacks combined, and without all the attendant poking and prodding too no less. Bourbon had done wonders for me. I felt light, energetic, and most of all – enthusiastic. My will was back, my desire to do things, no matter how trivial, was coursing through my veins lending me a strength I hadn’t felt in longer than I cared to remember. With the stars and moon above, the cooler air tingling my fur, I began to trot, then to canter. By the goddess, I wanted to run… to run until dawn broke and I could soar into the air on wings that could-

“Hey, slow down will you!”

I looked up at the piebald pegasus as he kept pace with me.

“Bloody hell, for an earth pone you can’t half shift!”

I slowed my pace and raised an eyebrow at my friend. “You’re just out of shape that’s all,” I quipped. “Probably guzzling all Bourbon’s booze, I reckon.”

“Bugger off!” Booster huffed. “You cheeky sod, how do you….” He shrugged, hanging his head. “Aww, you’re probably right.” The pegasi’s wings propelled him along with apparent ease despite his complaints. “Hey, you feeling okay though? I mean, my chariot’s back there and it would only take me a minute to get it if you- Hey! Are you listening?”

“Of course!” I tossed my mane, lifting my legs proudly. “But right now, I think I’ll get myself home and stretch my legs.” I gave Booster a grin. “And thanks, Booster. Really. If it hadn’t been for you I’d be well on my way to becoming a proper basket case.”

“Ha! Bit late for that I reckon!” He spiralled up through the air, combining it with a loop that had me so fascinated with how effortless he made it look I nearly ran headlong into a tree.

“Better look where you’re going, mate,” Booster called. The piebald pegasus landed gracefully beside me, accompanied with a frigid blast of air from his wings. “I don’t want to have to tell your missus how you bumped your noggin.”

I laughed, rubbing my forehead comically. “I’ll survive. The old girl’s given me a few thumps with the rolling pin when she’s caught me with my hooves in her cake mix before now.”

“Lucky bugger,” Booster sighed. “Maybe one day...”

I paused. “I thought you and Ivy, Autumn rather, were… you know.”

“An item?” Booster shrugged, flexing his wings. “Who knows. She’s one messed up kid, that one.”

“You don’t think she’s just a bit shy perhaps?” I asked questioningly. “I mean, she’s the only girl in our class other than Miss Lentil. Maybe she’s just feeling a bit self conscious being surrounded by stallions.”

“Hmm. Maybe. I don’t know.” Booster lifted his head and stared off into the distance. “She’s been through a lot alright. A lot more than she’s willing to tell me, that’s for sure.”

“Well if anypony can break her out of her shell, I know just the guy,” I replied.

“Oh?” Booster looked back at me with a quizzical expression on his face. “Who?”

“Who do you think?” I rolled my eyes. “You! You daft sod.”

“Oh… Ah! Well...” My pegasus friend flushed bright red. “Yeah. I’ll try.”

I sighed loudly. “Well you better. You two look well suited to each other. It’d be a shame if you didn’t make the effort.”

“You think she actually likes me?” Booster asked. “I mean, I’m not much to look at, buddy. Black and white pones get called-”

“Cart horse. Yeah, I know,” I finished for him. “The same goes for grey ponies too.” Memories of the teasing at school flooded back, threatening to sour my mood, but poor old Booster looked like he was teetering on the edge of falling into the kind of mood I was already famous for in my own household. “It may surprise you to know that the foals at school called me that too. ‘Dull as ditchwater’ was another popular term.” I had his attention now. “But Meadow likes me, and that, my friend, is all that matters.”

Booster looked back at his wings and gave them an idle flap. “Yeah, but you’re a celebrity of sorts here, and that counts for a hell of a lot with the girls. I’m just some ex-prison guard who...” He tailed off, his voice sounding unusually strained.

I placed a hoof on his shoulder, looking him square in the eyes. “Booster, I wasn’t always this ‘celebrity’ you know. Once I was just a regular Joe who had a job as a watchstallion. That was when I met Meadow. What happened afterwards was… was something I wouldn’t have wished on anypony.” I closed my eyes and sighed. “Booster, seriously, you don’t want to know what happened to me.”

“Yeah...”

“And Booster?” I asked.

He stared ahead, lost in his own world. “Hmm?”

“I’m sorry for what happened.”

“What happened?” Booster echoed distantly.

“I know you were piloting that prison transport.” I watched his muscles tense and his ears swivel to take in every word. Even if he wasn’t looking at me physically, his entire body was announcing his attention loud and clear. “And I know that you know that it was me in the back that day.”

“The cosplayer.” The voice was a whisper, barely louder than his breathing.

“You know that’s not true,” I said quietly. Booster knew who I was as surely as every other pony in town did too no doubt. If I was going to be friends with this stallion I didn’t want secrets, and I sure as hell didn’t want any lies either. If there was one thing I was bad at in life it was lying, and truth, no matter how deeply buried, had a habit of finding its way to the light as surely as weeds in even the best kept garden.

“Do I?” The black and white pegasus shook out his wings as he plopped onto his haunches. “You’re timing’s bollocks, do you know that?” He grimaced, drawing his brows down over his large eyes. “We could have talked about this over a pint at least.”

“We were at Bourbon’s,” I replied. “I didn’t want to talk about it there.”

“Ha! He knows damned well who you are. Everypony knows who you are.” Booster’s ears twitched. “I’m surprised you’re not accompanied by a fanfare every time you enter a room!”

“Good goddesses, Booster, do you really believe that? Do you know how ponies reacted when I first arrived here?” The pegasus hung his head as I continued, “They quarantined me. They actually locked me away in a bloody magical bubble that kept me a virtual prisoner, unable to move more than a few hundred yards from my own home, treating me like some kind of diseased animal!” Memories surged back into my mind, fuelling my now ignited temper. “Oh, they let me out eventually of course. They let me out to face the screams of terror from the local townsfolk who thought I was going to murder every single one of them and eat their souls or some such tripe. Celestia’s arse, Booster, do you have any idea how many times I’ve been called a ‘demon’ or a ‘monster’? Bugger me, all I want is a quiet life, or death, or whatever the bloody hell this is.” I lifted my muzzle to the sky and breathed in the cool air, letting it sooth my anger. “I just… I just wanted to say I was sorry. I didn’t know we were going to be attacked, and I couldn’t do anything about it even if I had known. The first thing I knew about it was when we were plummeting to the ground like a bloody comet, and then I was underwater facing drowning below and burning to death above. Some celebrity I am!”

The sad eyes of Booster watched me curiously from a few feet away. I couldn’t blame him if he hated me as the cause of his death, no matter how indirect, but I didn’t get the impression he thought that way somehow. No… he simply let out a deep sigh and nodded slowly. “I’ve known from the first day I met you on the course,” he said with a thin smile. “I didn’t know what to think at first, but…” He shrugged. “You seem an okay kind of guy, Fairlight. For a wendigo.” A cheeky wink followed. “Besides, I wouldn’t have helped you if I harboured any kind of grudge, dude.”

“Well if you’re happy to be friends with a wendigo, then you’re an okay kind of guy in my book too. For a pegasus.” I gave him a playful shove. “Hey, why not come round to mine for dinner one evening and meet the family?”

“Ah… I’m not so sure about that.”

“Why?” I asked, a little perplexed by his reply. Was there something I’d missed?

“Well, your missus, she...” Booster seemed to be struggling for the right words. “I don’t think she likes me.”

“Meadow?” I blinked in surprise. “Don’t be daft, she’s harmless! She was probably just being a bit protective, that’s all.” I stretched out my hind legs. They were still warm from the run and I could feel the energy in them aching for release. “Look, come round on Friday and we’ll have a good chin wag, okay? It’ll be good to speak to another stallion for a change.”

“Too many mares, eh?” Booster grinned.

I groaned loudly. “I’m surrounded by them! If it’s not Meadow’s friends, it’s that nutcase from the bureau or the bloody in-laws.”

“You don’t get on with them?”

I chuckled. “It’s complicated.”

“Which is a polite way of saying they’re a pain in the arse, right?” Booster grinned at me comically.

“Got it in one, my friend.” I gave myself a hard shake. “Anyway, I hate to go but if I don’t I’ll be hung drawn and quartered for being late.”

Booster looked up at the star studded sky and shook his head. “I think you may be too late already, dude.” He smiled. “I can still give you a ride if you want, you know.”

“Nah, I need to give myself a good run out.” I nodded towards the fields in the distance. “It’s not far now.”

“Okay, it’s your funeral.” The black and white pegasus neighed and lifted off the ground with practised ease. “And even if she doesn’t kill you…”

“…you’d be surprised what you can live through,” I finished, quoting the old line. “Come on you, get yourself off home and I’ll see you Friday. You know where I live?”

“’Course!” Booster shot into the air, spiralling up and almost out of sight before sweeping down low over my head. “See you Friday!”

I watched him bank away, effortlessly speeding off up into the night sky before finally disappearing in a matter of seconds. By then however I was already at a full gallop, hurtling through the night in what I would have normally considered a reckless act, but seriously, since I was dead it wasn’t like I could actually kill myself was it? I hoped! But by the gods this felt so good: running, simply... running. The wind blasted through my mane, my hooves thundering through the ground, my tail streaming out behind me. It was the nearest I’d come to flying in such a long time. Oh, Luna, how I longed to leap from the ground and spread my wings, to soar up above the clouds and to glide, feeling the currents of the world beneath me, cradling this child of two worlds. In my mind’s eye I could see my cottage far below, the yellow lights spilling out of the small windows onto the neatly kept garden and hedgerows. Meadow would be there in the open doorway in her apron, our tiny daughter nestled on her back as she leaned against the door frame. She’d smile, welcoming me home with a sugar sweet kiss and a nuzzle that said far more than words ever could. Oh sweet goddess, how I loved her. I pulled up outside the gate in a lather, unlatched the gate, and knocked on the door. There was a commotion inside and the sound of hooves before the bolt was pulled back to reveal…

“Merry?” I stared into the eyes of Meadow’s mother. “Is everything alright?”

“Aye, best it can be, oi ‘spose.” Meringue’s yellow eyes caught the lamplight as she looked me up and down. “Ow you bein tho’ moi love? Meadow’s bin roit worried ‘bout yer.”

“I’m better thanks,” I replied honestly. “One of the lads from the alignment class took me to one of the local doctors and he’s worked wonders on me.” I shut the door behind me and followed her into the kitchen where a pot of tea sat beneath its cosy next to a plate of biscuits. The seats in here were hard and not meant for long periods of use, but I was so exhausted from my run I could have fallen asleep right there and then.

Meadow’s voice called from along the hallway. “Mum? Is that Fairlight?” She didn’t wait for a reply as a green muzzle appeared around the door accompanied with a loud sniffle. “Oh goddesses! Fairlight, where the hell have you been? I’ve been worried sick! Sparrow’s been crying for hours and…” She sniffed the air. “Have you been smoking?” I held my breath as she moved closer. “You have! And… and drinking too!”

I held up a hoof placatingly. “Love, the doctor felt it would help me relax after he-”

“The doctor let you smoke?! You reek of drink too!” I noticed Meringue slip like a shadow from the room. There would be no help from her as the full force of her daughter’s anger was brought to bear. “We rushed home thinking we’d find you here, but no, you were off smoking and drinking with your buddy from the meeting! Dear Celestia, I was worried sick! We all were! Sparrow’s been near hysterical thinking we’d lost you in town and I had to give her some medicine to calm her down enough so she could sleep.”

“Is she alright?” I tried pathetically.

Meadow’s eyes blazed. “OF COURSE SHE’S NOT, YOU IDIOT!” The green mare’s head dropped, her ears drooping helplessly. “I don’t know what you were thinking, Fairlight. Was this some sort of trick to get out of staying at the theatre? I know you know didn’t really want to go, and I wouldn’t put it past you to invent this whole ‘scenario’ so you could sneak off and get tanked up and smoke yourself into oblivion!”

I covered my head with my hooves, hoping for the storm to pass. “For the goddess’s sake, Meadow-”

“YES!” she roared, “‘For the goddesses sake’, Fairlight! What the hell were you thinking? Oh, oh of course, you weren’t thinking were you? YOU NEVER DO!”

That was it, I’d had more than enough. “AND YOU NEVER LISTEN!” I bellowed. My hooves slammed on the table top making her jump back. “I have done everything you told me to do. I went to the therapy sessions, I went to that useless idiot doctor you took me to, and nothing worked Meadow, NOTHING!” I leaned forward, locking eyes with her. “And today after crapping myself half to death a friend takes me to see a real doctor who does more for me in a couple of hours than anypony has since I died, and here you are berating me for doing what you bloody well wanted me to do!”

“I didn’t say to smoke and drink!” Meadow retorted. “What sort of irresponsible ‘doctor’ prescribes that for patients?!”

“One who knows what he’s doing, apparently.” I sat back in my chair and sipped my tea. It had been left far too long in the pot and was so strong you could have used it to strip paint.

“Oh?” Meadow said in an all too derisive tone. “And just who is this ‘miracle worker’ then? The local tavern keeper?”

“Doctor Bourbon Crisp,” I said levelly. “If you don’t believe me, we can have a trot out tomorrow and you can speak to him your-”

“Bourbon Crisp?” Meadow’s brows drew down. “I know that name. Wasn’t… wasn’t he the one that...” Suddenly Meadow threw her forelegs up in the air and turned a full three-sixty to face me. “He’s that one who ponies say has been using ‘unorthodox methods’ and was banned from practising by the royal commission!”

“What a load of rubbish,” I snorted. “What about that tosspot ‘Doctor’ Cording then, eh? I’ve have more poking and prodding from that imbecile than a sodding tapestry set and he still hasn’t got a bloody clue what’s wrong with me. At least Bourbon knew what he was talking about. And here’s the best part: he actually did something that worked! Good goddess, Meadow, he’s far more of a doctor than any of the buffoons I’ve had to endure so far.”

“Have you read his book?” Meadow gritted her teeth and began pacing the kitchen. “It was full of the most fanciful gibberish I’ve ever read in my entire life.”

“He’s from the empire,” I said quietly.

“Ho! And look what happened to that!”

I rolled my eyes. “Meadow, please, you’re being totally unreasonable.”

“I am, am I?” The green mare’s mane bristled. “I suppose it’s unreasonable for a wife to be worried about her husband. It’s unreasonable for a wife to have to care for an inconsolable foal who thinks her daddy’s not coming home. And I suppose it’s unreasonable for a wife to expect her husband to come back from the doctor’s NOT STINKING OF ALCOHOL AND BLOODY TOBACCO!”

I sat back, quietly watching her heaving chest, and simply waited.

“Well?” she hissed. “Anything to say for yourself?”

“Would it make any difference if I did?” I said calmly. “I’m just waiting for my wife to stop shouting and talk to me calmly and rationally.”

Meadow’s eyes blazed like small fires, her nostrils flaring as her words came from behind bared teeth. “I don’t feel like being calm and rational.”

“Even though your loving husband is home?” I asked.

Meadow blinked, the train of fury within her which had been in full steam a second earlier, mentally jumped the track. “What are you talking about?”

“Doctor Crisp helped me. I mean really helped me.” I held up a hoof forestalling another tirade. “I didn’t know anything about his credentials before I got there. How could I? I wasn’t exactly in any shape to ask at the time if you remember.” I took a breath, half expecting Meadow to leap in. She didn’t. “He helped me ‘align my soul’ or something. I don’t know how he did it, but he was able to… to ‘tap’ the me that has been buried deep down inside since I arrived here. I think… I think for the first time, I feel ‘whole’ again. I feel… alive.”

Meadow seemed a little unsure. “He aligned your soul?” She gave a dismissive snort. “He can’t do that, that’s something only the royal wizards here can do, and he’s just an earth pony isn’t he?”

“He’s an earth pony,” I nodded in agreement. “But magic or not he’s done a lot for me, and better still, I’ve made two new friends.” Meadow’s eyes were wet with tears and she looked ahead blankly as I got up and moved around the table to face her. “Don’t you see? You wanted your husband back, love, and all this time, all these long months of counselling and therapy, and now, by some incredible twist of fate, it’s actually happened.” I took a step back and smiled broadly. “I’m home.”

“Oh...” Meadow closed her eyes. “Oh, Fairlight…” She took a deep breath and suddenly grabbed my muzzle. “I hate you sometimes, you know that?”

“Yeah.” I closed my eyes, slowly opening them to gaze into the deep yellow orbs of my beloved wife. “But what would a loving marriage be if we didn’t spice it up with a little argument now and again?”

“Argument?” She groaned. “I could throttle you!”

I chuckled. “Good, but I could do with a good squeeze right about now.” Meadow’s body visibly relaxed, the tension seeping from her muscles before my very eyes. Carefully, slowly, I moved into her, wrapping my forelegs around her. I kissed her on her nose, her muzzle, and then gave her ear a nip that made her flinch slightly. “I’m sorry love,” I said gently as I pushed my muzzle into her fur. “I never meant to hurt you, or Sparrow.”

“I know...” I could feel tears begin to roll down Meadow’s cheeks. “I was just so worried. I’m sorry I shouted, and-”

“Shhh...” I shifted my forelegs and held her tightly, feeling her heart beat, listening to her breathing. “I love you, and that’s all that matters. Never mind doctors or fighting. We’re stronger than this, love. So much stronger.”

Meadow took a deep breath and hugged me back. “I know. I love you too.” Suddenly she chuckled, “Even if you do honk.”

“Huh?” I sniffed my foreleg and winced. “Oh, Luna...”

“See?” Meadow clucked her tongue, “You’re sweaty, and you smell too. Come on, let’s get you showered off. You’re not getting into bed like that, mister.”

Meadow lead me, and I followed as obediently as a foal follows its mother into the bathroom. Carefully she began to remove my overcoat, button by button, all the while avoiding my gaze as her magic did its work. The soft blue glow from my mare’s horn reflected off the floral tiles in the coolness of the room making my skin tingle. Each unicorn’s magic had a distinct feel to it, and Meadow’s was no exception. It was soft, gentle, and sent a shiver down my spine whenever she used it on, or in this case near, me. Without words I helped shrug out of the coat and used my own magic to float it over to the hook on the back of the door. Next was my shirt. Normally I liked to wear a waistcoat with any formal wear, but with the warmth here in the herd I’d dispensed with it due to the expected heat in the theatre. Now there was little between her and me, other than the thin cotton of the white shirt. It was soaked with my sweat from the run and it didn’t so much lift off so much as was peeled off. Meadow tutted under her breath and took it from me, dropping it neatly into the linen basket. The shower taps squeaked as she turned them, and warm water began to fall in a deliciously inviting downpour from the shower head. I’ll admit, it was one of my better ideas. Despite how much I loved a bath and a damned good warm soak, here in the herd on warm days and cool evenings there wasn’t much that could beat standing beneath a shower as it soothed your soul as much as it did your body. I’d have to sort out those taps though, that squeaking was getting worse.

“Mmm…” A groan escaped my lips as the water, just the right temperature, began to do its work.

“How’s the water?”

I didn’t open my eyes, rather standing and letting the water wash away all my cares. “Perfect...” I murmured. “Like my wife.”

“Cheesy as always.” Meadow gave me a scowl, but by the quiet snort under her breath I could tell my compliment had been right on the money. “Tch! Look at the state of your back. You’re meant to wash in the shower, not just stand there. I’m always telling Sparrow that.”

“Me too,” I replied.

“And she pays about as much attention!” Meadow’s feminine chuckle warmed my heart as much as the water. She shook her head and smiled that soft smile I knew so well. “Right then, let’s have a look at you then.”

Meadow took the soap and began to rub it onto the sponge. In moments a thick pale grey lather of my favourite pumice soap was transported on a cloud of the most perfect magic from said sponge to my back. And the experience was, to put not to fine a point on it, simply... delectable. You could tell Meadow was a nurse, as indeed she had been in the mortal realm before coming to the herd and taking up a position at the local clinic. Of course the local quackery with their nigh-on medieval medical practices that were one step away from applying leeches and bleeding you half to death were, putting it mildly, not exactly top of my ‘must visit’ list. And yes, I did have one. One of the chapters in the charming little guidebook every newly departed received along with a hot cocoa and a rather plain biscuit, was dedicated to discovering ways of avoiding losing your sanity through the long journey into eternity. Other than the somewhat expected suggestions such as taking up gardening, knitting, sewing, or, would you believe, basket weaving, were topics that actually made some sense to those who weren’t looking forward to breaking out in spontaneous cats and horn-rimmed spectacles. In short, the idea was to make a list. Nothing special really, it was basically a list of things to do, the same as I used to have at work or kept around the house as a failsafe to the old Fairlight braincells giving up the ghost. In some strange way it gave me focus, and took my mind off other things like Shadow, Tingles, and my son, Lumin. Naturally Meadow would stop me from mentally wandering off down the road to self pity, if not outright depression, but here in the herd that never quite happened did it? Good goddesses, you were even denied the right to a damned good mope! Feeling a little down or want to try listening to depressing music? Didn’t work! Nope, it was upbeat all the way, and I mean all the way. Now that’s not to say you went around grinning like a lunatic doped out of your skull all the time. No, it was more of an unseen background springboard that mentally propelled you back into a ‘happier’ state of mind – whether you liked it or not. Personally I think I could have done with a bit of good old fashioned misery now and again, and sometimes I’d even managed it to a greater or lesser extent, even if it was only for a short time. Ha! Typical Fairlight, wanting to feel miserable in the land of lush grass, sunny days and blue skies. Perhaps Bourbon was right, perhaps paradise really could become your own personal hell, one where you were denied the right to ‘feel’ how you wanted, when you wanted. Or something like that anyway. I’d never been the most eloquent stallion in school, but I usually got my point across one way or another. Even if it took a hoof to the face to do it.

I groaned as Meadow rubbed the soap into my wet fur, down my neck, shoulders and back, right to the dock of my tail. Like a lot of ponies I was helplessly sensitive there and hated anypony going near it, even accidentally. Celestia’s grace, I’d very nearly bucked one of the probationers at work full in the face when he knocked a box of paper off the shelf and backed into me. Ah, one of the joys of being descended from prey animals I suppose. If you believe in that sort of thing that is. Some believed we descended from ancient mammals, or fish, or some other such lunacy. Personally, like most ponies, I believed we were put here by the parents of ‘big and tall’ in her ivory bloody tower in Canterlot. Now her sister was fun, if a bit nutty as a lot of these highly bred types seem wont to be, but she was doomed to a lifetime living in the shadow of big sis. And by ‘big’, I mean BIG! Celestia towered above most ponies, and it was no wonder that the old girl was… well, to put not too fine a point on it, a virgin. Now don’t get me wrong, stories abounded about kinky goings on in the palace at night and the frisky alicorn chasing guardstallions around for an evening of bedroom antics. But seriously? Dear gods, you’d need a stepladder to get anywhere near the overgroan old bat and-

“Oooh! Goddesses… Meadow!” I gasped, flinching at the touch beneath me, but also anticipating more. I was tired, horribly tired, but the tiny flickers of electricity licking around my nether regions demanded immediate attention. A sponge pushed into my inquisitive muzzle quickly dispelled any hopes of a soapy and rather damp bathroom tryst.

“Oh stop making such a fuss,” Meadow huffed. “You’re worse than Sparrow for squirming around all the time.”

“It’s alright for you to say,” I snorted. “You’re not the one having their privates lathered by a beautiful mare.

“And you can forget any of that either, mister.” Meadow shoved my flank a little harder than necessary. “I’m too tired, and besides you’ve had me in such a state I don’t know whether I’m coming or going.”

“I might be able to-” A yellow eye glanced a warning in my direction and the imminent quip that was likely to achieve little more than a painful swat across the nose, made me swallow my words. “Um… okay.”

She gave me a wink. “There’s a good boy.”

Damn it! Why did she get me going like that and then deflate me just as quickly? Fetlocks and feathers, she knew damned well what she was doing. And how to play me like a fiddle too. I took a deep breath, more than a little disappointed in the loss of a more cuddly and intimate finish to my shower. Still, you couldn’t blame her. Only a few minutes ago she’d been worried sick about me, furious with me really, and the next thing you know she’s showering me off in the bathroom. To push it any further would be foolish, but Meadow knew me all too well, and even if I didn’t say anything, she knew. She always knew.

Being dried off with a combination of towels and the magically operated hot air blower, my mane and tail brushed and thoroughly dried, I finally stood ready for inspection. Meadow walked around me, nodding to herself and then tapped me under the chin. “Open.” I did so obediently. “Teeth.”

And we were now down to one word instructions were we? Wonderful… Following my dear wife’s orders I set about my teeth with vigour. I didn’t dare do anything less, she had that look about her that threatened bloody retribution if I even thought about being disobedient. Fortunately my toothbrush scrubbed away the smell of tobacco in short order, and a good rinse would help removed the strong stink of spirits too. Thank the goddesses for magic though. One of the staples of being a unicorn was being able to manipulate objects, toothbrushes being one of them. I’d always thought it odd how, considering our inborn ability to manoeuvre objects, it was always the earth ponies who were the ones most involved in the construction industry. All the most famous builders of equestrian history were earth ponies too. Sure, some of the designers were unicorns, and there was even the odd smattering of pegasi in there too, if you counted the sky kingdoms, but for the most part it was the plain old earth ponies who had what I can only presume was an innate gift for building. Oh, and for doctoring too, if Bourbon was anything to go by. I’d have to pop round and see him sometime too. He’d invited Booster and I back to play cards one night with him and his other ‘friends’ from academia. It promised on the face of it to be exceptionally dull. Being stuck in a room with a bunch of old doctors, professors, or whatever they were, no doubt talking shop while Booster and I, hopelessly out of our depth, would end up sitting there looking like the dullards they probably thought we were. Whether I was worrying unnecessarily or not was besides the point, as either way I was determined to pay Bourbon back for his kindness. And of course if there was the occasion for a little tipple, and maybe even a-

“All done?” Meadow asked.

“Huh?” I blinked and realised I’d been scrubbing my teeth whilst my mind wandered off on one of its usual tangents. “All done,” I agreed with a nod.

“So what do you think then?”

“Um...” Hell fire, I hadn’t heard a word she’d said! Meadow must have been talking about something while I was off thinking about that bloody card game. “I think its a good idea, love,” I said confidently. “Definitely.”

“What, really?” Meadow hesitated. “You’re absolutely sure?”

“I wouldn’t have said it was a good idea otherwise, would I?” I replied.

Meadow frowned at me in thought for a moment, suddenly rallying as a broad smile spreading across her face. “Oh, Fairlight! I… I know its going to be hard for you, but… thanks for this love. Really, I’m sure it will do wonders to resolve everything, and little Sparrow hasn’t seen them in ages either.”

“Hey, not a problem.” I put my toothbrush back in the holder and felt like drowning myself in the sink. What the hell had I agreed to?! Damn, damn, damn! Fairlight you bloody fool! Gah! Well, It was too late to back out now of whatever it was anyway, and I’d wreck everything if I owned up to Meadow that I’d been daydreaming whilst she’d been asking me something that was clearly important to her. I stuffed my muzzle into the towel and squeezed my eyes shut, silently praying that whatever I had agreed to wasn’t going to involve something akin to mental castration.

Some hope…

“You know, I do love the smooth look,” Meadow purred.

I looked up. “Oh, thanks,” I said genuinely. “I was bit worried at first that the barber had been a little severe with the old coat, but I think it suits me pretty well overall. You like it?” I shifted my body round and flicked my tail over my rump. “My cutie mark seems to be better defined somehow too. I don’t know how he did it, but you can really see the lines and-”

“I want you.”

“-around the...” I froze, slowly looking up into the face of my green mare. Two large yellow eyes stared at me like a voracious predator and me, the prey, stood there helpless. She looked… hungry. I swallowed, “Meadow? I thought you were too tired love?”

“I was.” Her breathing was coming heavier now, her ears pert and locked solely on the target of her desire - me. “But I’m not now.”

For a moment, just a flicker of a heartbeat, I considered being playful, teasing even. I’d decided against it even as Meadow launched herself at me, tackling me onto the bed and biting me so hard on the neck I squeezed my eyes shut on reflex. She didn’t normally do this! My ears were next, taking a lighter nibbling, but soon I could feel myself melting like hot butter on a skillet beneath her. I could feel her urgency, feel her need for release. I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to let somepony else do all the work for a change. Besides, it would be interesting to see where this went...

*********************

Morning came with a distinct ache in the old shoulders. And hips. And everywhere else for that matter. Meadow however was disgustingly fresh and alert. In fact she’d already got up, fed Sparrow, sorted out the two old farts and had appeared with, Celestia be praised, a cup of tea and a toasted teacake. Still drowsy I sat up as the lively green mare floated the tray from her back onto my lap. She smiled, giving me a cheeky wink as she blew a stray mane hair from her face. “Oops! Forgot the sugar!” In a flurry she was gone and I could hear her chatting with Merry in the kitchen, the lively banter accompanied by the homely clatter of crockery and pans. I was still watching the door curiously as I sipped thoughtfully at my tea. It was hot, if a little stronger than I would have liked it normally, suggesting that Merry and Apple Pop had had theirs first and mine was nearer the bottom where the majority of the leaves lurked. Still, I couldn’t complain. This was unusual for Meadow to be so doting first thing in the morning, especially after last nights antics. I also had the horrible thought that we’d forgotten to put up a sound dampening shield to avoid waking the old farts, and- Oh, sod it. If they’d heard they’d heard. Apple Pop wasn’t keen on me to begin with, and I’m damned sure that Merry, as cheerful and ‘folksy’ as she was, blamed me for what happened to her daughter. And not forgetting young Sparrow too. Oh no, Sparrow was the granddaughter, and according to their logic had just popped out of her mother like magic and it was all smiles and sodding rainbows as usual. Me, the grumpy sod of a husband, was simply an inconvenience that propriety dictated was supposed to be brought along on every family day trip. No matter how much he protested.

Today however, something was definitely in the air.

I nibbled on the teacake and licked the crumbs from my lips. Toasted just right, with the right amount of butter on it, it was delicious! I hated it when the butter melted completely, but Meadow knew exactly when and how much to apply that thick layer of artery hardening deliciousness. Currents, sultanas, cinnamon and nutmeg, all combined with that yeasty, malty taste, to make the afterlife that little bit better. Metaphorically speaking of course. After all, you needed tea to go with it too. I grinned as a small grey thing pushed open the door and then, with seemingly little to no effort and the buzz of wings, sprung onto the bed in front of me nearly upsetting scalding tea onto my delicate areas.

“Mummy shed to bring you thum thugar.” A small cloth bag containing the obligatory two lumps swung from the tiny pegasi’s mouth.

“Thanks love,” I smiled, magicking the bag from her and depositing its cargo. “Have you had your breakfast?”

Sparrow nodded furiously, “Uh-huh!” Well that was all good and- “We had cakes!”

“Wha-? Cakes?” I looked down at the teacake and then back to the lemon icing smothered child. “What cakes?” Realisation suddenly hit me. “Oh, please don’t tell me they were lemon ones...”

“I like lemon!” Sparrow licked the evidence from her mouth and without another word jumped down from the bed, disappearing through the door. I leaned back and closed my eyes. “I was looking forward to that too...”

“Hmm?”

I opened my eyes to Meadow. “Oh, nothing love.”

Meadow clucked her tongue. “Don’t worry, I’ve kept you a slice.” She walked over to the window and threw open the curtains, nearly blinding me with the sunlight. “It wasn’t all for you, you know.”

“I know that,” I huffed. “But you only make that on special occasions and I’d hidden the extra. Um, that is-”

The green mare shook her head. “I know you did.” Meadow groaned, “Do you honestly think I wouldn’t know you’d squirrelled it away?”

I shrugged helplessly.

Meadow clopped me on the mind leg and leaned into me. “I know everything about you dear,” she grinned menacingly as she moved ever closer. “Everything.” Quick as a snake, Meadow licked a crumb from my chin and then danced away playfully. “Now come on, you’re last to get ready.”

“Get ready?” I munched down the last of my teacake. “What’s on the agenda for today again?”

Meadow rolled her eyes, “The fountain festival, remember?”

I chuckled. “Of course! Sorry love, you know I’m not a morning stallion.” I shifted my legs off the bed as I chugged back the last of my now overly sweet tea. “I think you turned my mind to jelly last night. I’m absolutely knackered.”

“Pff! What?!” Meadow collected my dishes, lifting them up onto her back. “I’m the one who did all the work you lazy bugger.”

“Hey! Come off it, you pounded half through the bed!” I protested.

Meadow walked to the door. “And now you know how I feel.” The cheeky beggar stuck her tongue out at me as I finally pulled myself free of the sheets. Well, I suppose she had a point.

The rest of the morning went as you would probably expect. I had a quick flannel wash, put on a clean shirt and tie, and collected my jacket. Pop looked as sour and disapproving as usual and merely grunted a response when I greeted him. Meringue, his polar opposite, met with a smile that almost had me feeling guilty about wanting them to leave at the earliest opportunity. Almost.

“Mornin’ moi love. You be lookin’ bet’ur than you were yest’ur day.”

I gave her a genuinely wide smile in reply. “I am Merry, thanks. Doctor Bourbon sure knew his onions.”

“So long as ‘e knows is Fairloits, that’s all we’ll be bothered wiv, eh?” She gave Meadow a playful elbow which elicited a squeak. I closed my eyes as Meadow’s locked with mine and she quickly looked away. Her cheeks were near scarlet.

“Aye,” I replied quietly.

“Hmm. And you may want to consider putting a spell up in future,” Apple Pop added unhelpfully. He plopped his trilby hat on his head and adjusted it for his ears. “You’ll have Sparrow awake with the sort of racket you two make all night.”

He was already out of the front door before I could reply. If I could have. I couldn’t even look at Meadow now as Merry followed her husband outside with Sparrow in tow. I could feel my own cheeks burning now as well as my ears. “They heard, didn’t they,” I said.

Meadow walked past me and nodded, “Everything...”

“Oh… bollocks...” I shook my head and sighed. Bit bloody late for that spell now, wasn’t it! I closed the door behind us and locked it. There was still no word from Tingles, Shadow or Lumin. Part of me had begun to guilty suggest to that inner part of my mind that ‘no news was good news’ and at least we didn’t have to worry about them. Another part of me, the part which was all too common here, was hoping that they’d ‘hurry up’ and come here. I know it was wrong to think like that, but when you’re here and everything is so bright, so clean, so… so simply wonderful, who wouldn’t want their family to come and start a new life with them in paradise? And anyway, when had I begun to feel so soppy about things? I don’t know if you could ever have called me ‘hardened’, but I wasn’t a softie by any stretch of the imagination. Now however, I’d become this emotional wreck of a stallion and was constantly fretting about things I couldn’t do anything about. Well, at least until I’d seen Doctor Crisp of course. Since then I’d felt a lot more positive than I had done in ages, if not since I’d first arrived. I just would have liked the rest of my family here to share my newly found joy. Selfish little old me… Still, the way time moved here they could be arriving any minute or… the goddesses knew how long. Unlike our be-winged menace whose mouth spouted thoughts barely before they’d even reached her brain, Meadow didn’t mention our mortal family except to respond to a question or as part of a broader conversation. It wasn’t because she was unfeeling or uncaring, it was… well, it was me, wasn’t it. Even the mention of them ran the risk of sending me off into one of my ‘moods’ and potentially ruin the rest of the day for both of us. No, there was nothing we could do short of checking the orb and wait until it warned us of one of them entering the glade. Star Swirl had assured me, on one of his last visits here, that the connection with the mortal realm was still there. It was simply a case that nopony I knew had been to the glade to speak to us. None of them. Not one of the villagers, not one of my family, nor even one of my friends. It was more than heartbreaking, it was… it was… painful. It hurt, and on a level I couldn’t begin to describe. No amount of magic the herd provided could fully protect me from that hollow sensation I felt inside at the loss of my girls and son. I’m sure Meadow felt it too, and it was good to know that there was a way we could still see them from time to time. Whether that truly was a good thing in the long term… I don’t know. Perhaps a clean break would have been the best for all of us, but I don’t… I really don’t…

“Come on love, we’re...” Meadow paused. “Fairlight? Oh, love, what’s the matter? Why are you crying?”

I took a breath and gave myself a shake. “I’m not. I’m...” I looked down at my hoof where I’d just rubbed my face. “Ha! Must have got some soap in there. Blast it all.”

“Fairlight.” Meadow gave me one of those hard looks she reserved for Sparrow when she was being naughty. “I’m not stupid.” She floated out a hankie and wiped under my eyes. “They’ll be in touch, you’ll see.”

Celestia’s grace, she knew me so well. I closed my eyes and smiled as best I could. “I know love.” I motioned towards the garden gate. “Come on, let’s get this over with then.”

Meadow followed me along the path to the waiting taxi and shut the gate behind her. “You do realise this is supposed to be an enjoyable time for us. For all of us, right?”

I nodded, “Yes, love.”

“Don’t ‘yes love’ me, Fairlight. For goodness sake, please!” She glanced over my shoulder at her parents who were waiting patiently in the taxi.

“Meadow, it’s fine. I’m fine, honestly!” I gave her a reassuring hug. “I was just daydreaming that’s all, love. There’s no need to make such a fuss.”

“I’m not! I’m...” Meadow sighed and face hoofed. “Goddesses, let’s just go.”

It wasn’t the most auspicious starts to the day I have to say, but it could have been worse. Meadow was always a lot more tetchy around me when her parents came to visit, so I wasn’t that bothered by her snapping at me. In truth I was more concerned about her parents reaction to our apparently continued ‘domestics’. Luna knows how many jobs like that I’d been called out to over the years. From burnt cakes and lost cats to extortion and even murder on occasion. Times had certainly changed in Equestria, and not for the better either. The importation of drugs like Breeze had damaged society like a cancer, slowly eating away at the long established social dynamic which provided it the nourishment it needed to thrive. We at least didn’t have that kind of problem here, thanks in no small part to the lack of any mortal body to crave the damned stuff. Not to mention the fact of course that here the gods ruled supreme. Speaking of which, according to the programme the royal family were going to be in attendance today. Hmm, come to think of it weren’t they supposed to be at the theatre yesterday? I don’t remember seeing them there, but in all fairness I was so busy evacuating all my bodily fluids out of every sodding orifice it was hardly surprising was it? So much for no ‘mortal’ body then! Good goddesses, even in death I didn’t have any bloody peace. Mentally I recounted the last time I’d had anything to do with the ‘royal family’ back in Equestria. It hadn’t exactly been the sort of experience I’d care to repeat. In any case, this lot were more likely to be there just to smile and wave and that was exactly as I liked it. Living in the limelight wasn’t all it was cracked up to be that was for damned sure. I’d had more than my fill of being a ‘celebrity’, and come to think of it hardly anypony even acknowledged me now anyway. It was quite the shift from the last bout of screaming and terror that had accompanied my first trip into town for an ice cream of all things. I smacked my lips subconsciously. I quite fancied an ice cream. One with pistachio nuts and those funny little crumbly things would just hit the spot. All that over toffee ice cream with pieces that stuck to your teeth... Goddesses, I could taste it now! I looked back from peering out the window and caught Apple Pop’s eye. Somehow I doubted he’d find ice cream an attractive proposition, the miserable old sod. Still, you could really see where his daughter had got her coat from. And her eyes for that matter. I just wished he wasn’t so damned stiff all the time. The former watch commander looked at me like some professor studying bacteria under a microscope. I was more than aware that in his world I ranked somewhere between protozoa and dog dirt. It was nigh on impossible to hold any form of discussion with him either. And why the hell I decided at that moment to begin one, I’ll never know.

“Have you been enjoying your visit so far?” I asked.

The deep yellow eyes looked back at me impassively. “Meringue has.”

Oh. I felt like cringing, but pressed on regardless. “I hope my stomach problem didn’t spoil the play for you.”

“It didn’t” Apple Pop’s eyebrows flickered, signifying some sort of private signal that I wasn’t privy to. Meringue on the other hoof, despite being engaged in a lively discussion with Meadow about the best home tutor or school for Sparrow, picked up on it straight away. I was quite impressed really; she would have made an excellent detective with her observational skills alone.

She leaned across her husband and clopped me playfully on the knee. “Now don’t yer go worryin’ yerself ‘bout us, Fairloit moi luv. You just make sure yer keep yerself roit fer young Sparrow. Little ‘un loik ‘er be ready fer some proper schoolin’ now, an ‘oive bin avin a thought a two baht which school would be best fer ‘er.”

“Any in particular?” I asked.

Meadow nodded. “The school’s mostly adults, but we’ve been thinking about Coconut Crunch’s class for… um… ‘special’ ponies.”

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I’d heard about that place, and it was, how do I put this politely… it was full of nutters. Ponies who had ‘problems’ in Equestria went to school’s like Coconut Crunch’s, and there was no way in hell I was sending any daughter of mine to one of them! I tried to keep the irritation from my voice.

“It’s not my first choice,” I said as politely as I could manage.

Merry nodded, “Crunchy be a good teacher tho’ Fairloit. Good with kids and that.”

“And ‘that’ being ponies with mental disorders,” I retorted. “I’m sorry Merry, but as nice as Coconut Crunch may be as a pony, her school is not the sort of place anypony in their right mind would send their foal.”

Meadow snorted. “And where do you suggest then? Every place we think of has some kind of problem according to you.”

I bit back my reply, instead taking a deep breath and doing my best to remain the very image of the calm and sensible father. “She needs to either go to a school with foals her own age or be home schooled. I’ll ask around and see if we can find more information before making a decision.”

“We’ve already been through this,” Meadow replied unhelpfully, “you know that the number of foals in Dawn is low, that’s why everypony sends their children to Golden Oak, and I don’t want her going all that way every day.”

“Home schooling sounds like the best option then,” I reasoned. “We can have a look at home tutors if you like when we get to town. There’s a public information office there and we can pop in to say hello to your friend Mizz whats-her-face while we’re at it.”

“Who?” Merry asked puzzled.

Meadow rolled her eyes. “My friend who works for the ministry.”

“If anypony will know, it’ll be her,” I added. She had to be good for something, right?

Meringue looked from me to her daughter. “Well, that sounds loik a good idea then.” She glanced out of the window. “Anyways, we’re ‘ere now. Let’s go an ave some fun, eh?”

And with those words of wisdom, the conversation, mercifully, came to a close. The taxi clattered across the cobbles, pulling up at the side of the road to the taxi rank where we disembarked. Sparrow all but leapt out and I had to catch her in my magic before she collided with one of the many ponies all heading towards the gardens. It was just as well I did too because the mass of equines was unlike anything I’d ever seen since arriving here, except on the other side of the ice cream parlour window that time. Ah, happy memories! Still, there were thousands of them here, all moving at a snails pace towards the arena. Music was already rolling out from a band up on the expansive stage as ponies found a space wherever they could. I’ll say one thing about this place: it was polite. There was no shoving, no pushing, just ponies out for a pleasant time, some music, and of course, snacks. Somehow, with some magical power that was way beyond my comprehension, Sparrow was already scoffing candyfloss at an alarming rate. At least the little pest was on her grandmother’s back and plying her with pink sticky hooves instead of mine. That stuff was a devil to get out of your fur.

I soon discovered that holding any form of conversation here was utterly impossible. The rumble of hooves, ponies all talking at once and the music overlaying it all made for conversations that usually ended in somepony all but shoving their muzzle into your ear while you shouted variations of ‘EH??’, ‘SAY AGAIN?’ or ‘DIDN’T QUITE CATCH THAT’. By some miracle though we found seats, and eventually the cacophony began to subside to level were I was able to catch Apple Pop cautioning Meadow and Merry to ‘watch their bags’ in case of pickpockets. Good goddesses, was that stallion ever off duty? I know it was hard to forget the watch lifestyle, and there was that old phrase that seemed remarkably prophetic too, ‘once a watchstallion always a watchstallion’. Personally, after the hell I’d been through with the watch, the last thing I wanted was to be reminded of it every five bloody minutes. And Apple Pop was that five minutes. Whenever I saw Pop looking at me his eyes and his expression said it all. In his eyes I had failed the watch, I had failed my family, and everypony and everything I had ever done was lost because of me. Whether or not it was my fault was immaterial. It was results that counted, and I had failed. Part of me hated him for that, whereas another part of me felt a strange connection with him, probably due to his reputation in the watch, or my respect for his exemplary career. Mine had hardly been that. I’d ended up killing watchponies in my own stationhouse, cutting down the commander like some damned murdering psychopath. There were reasons of course, there always were. Or excuses. No wonder Meadow kept warning me about becoming a killer. Unfortunately she’d been too late. Ultimately I’d become the instrument of assassination that the princesses wanted me to be. I kept telling myself that it had been to protect my people, my son and my family, but was it? Ponies called me a wendigo, and perhaps I was, after a fashion. But I hadn’t been born that way, had I? Both Meadow and I had been put through hell, but instead of simply being accepted by the herd, something had happened to me in the Withers. A spirit had… ‘infected’ me, turning me into that… that monster. And yet when I changed, when I became the wendigo, it was as if I was complete somehow. The wendigo had felt so alien at first, but as time passed I became it and in return it became me. And goddesses help me, I enjoyed it. Bourbon had made me understand, made me see, that I had to accept everything about myself, including being a wendigo. On some level it felt fanciful, laughable almost, to think that a boring old cart horse like me could be this insanely powerful ‘thing’. But by the goddesses, I would give it all up if I could. Or would I? If I were given the chance, would I really give up a part of who I was now? It was a conundrum that meant nothing. The herd had blocked all of my powers, stripping me of the spirit. I had been… ‘cleansed’, so to speak. And yet I still had that sensation deep down inside, that there was a little of the old me left behind. It was still little more than an echo, a shadow of a memory, of who Fairlight truly was. Goddesses how I wished I could still fly. Just once, just so I could feel the air beneath my wings once more and experience the freedom of flight. I used to tell myself it was so I could practice flying with Sparrow, but in truth, it was for me. I felt trapped here, trapped in the lap of luxury and happiness. I feel ashamed to admit it, but on some level, I wanted… I wanted to…

“Oh, I beg your pardon!”

“That’s quite alright, Miss.” I looked to my right at the mare who had accidentally knocked my hoof as she adjusted her seat. I smiled, nodding to her and looked back at the stage.

“Is that your daughter?” she asked.

I looked round and caught sight of Sparrow being extracted from the hat of the lady in front of her. “I’m afraid it is,” I groaned. “Never a moments peace.”

“Pegasi do have a habit of being headstrong, don’t you think?”

I nodded patiently. “All the ones I’ve met have been.” Memories of my friends, my beautiful Tingles and the roar of battle, all warred for my attention. I wonder what Loofa was doing now?

The mare sighed and took a sip of her drink, catching my gaze with her own. My heart leaped. By the goddesses, those eyes! A pair of pale ice blue eyes looked into mine from a face as pure white as the freshly fallen snow in the Foul Mountains. I know it was rude, but I couldn’t seem to look away. Bloody hell, if Meadow caught me I’d really be for it now. and-

“Do you like this style of music?”

“Huh?” I blinked and gave myself a mental buck. Trying instinctively to reach the cold centre of my being I felt like a fish out of water. Resorting to my old watch training, I used the old trick of putting on a different persona. I took a breath, nodded, and felt myself relax. If only a tiny amount. “I do,” I replied. “I’m not one for modern music as a rule.”

The white mare adjusted her summer dress and gave a lilting chuckle. “Really? I have a rather eclectic taste, myself. My husband on the other hoof is somewhat of a traditionalist and doesn’t approve of what refers to as ‘modern screeching and wailing’.” She laughed coquettishly. “Personally I believe it is variety that enriches the heart and soothes the soul. Otherwise, eternity could prove to be so boring. Wouldn’t you agree?”

I nodded, “Yes, Ma’am.”

I did my best to avoid locking eyes with the peculiar mare and hoped that Meadow, lost in a conversation with her mother, hadn’t seen anything. Thankfully Apple Pop had decided to park himself at the far end of the seating, or else that old sod would be making even more of his snarky comments than usual. The mare’s large sun hat engulfed her mane which she had pinned up inside it, and her pale gold and white sun dress which was accented with lace here and there screamed of a level of taste and sophistication that made me feel as refined as a dockyard worker. Mentally I gave thanks for having had a trim recently and was wearing my smartest overcoat. Interestingly I noted that even the mare’s tail was covered in the dress. Not that it was that unusual of course, rather that it was… intriguing. Goddesses, maybe she had mange! I tried not to chuckle openly as the mare lifted her hoof to point to the stage.

“Oh, look. They must be about to start.”

The music had changed and the crowd fell absolutely silent. Despite myself I whispered to the mare, “How do you know?”

“The music,” she whispered back. “They always play Sakpipslät before the royal family arrive. Personally I prefer that notable piece from Gotterdämmerung.”

I blinked in surprise, “I thought that was a funeral march?”

A manicured eyebrow lifted in that perfect face. “Oh?” Her lips curled up in a slight smile that in any other could have elicited a hint of condescending sarcasm. Instead, “I always found it a pleasantly inspiring piece, particularly how the music drives upwards to such a powerful crescendo.” She smiled that small smile again. “Don’t you find such music… inspiring?”

I shrugged, “Yes, I suppose I do.”

“What piece do you prefer then?”

Now there was a question! I frowned in thought for a moment. Like this mare I had quite a varied taste in music. In essence, if it appealed to me, I listened to it. There wasn’t any particular genre I had a specific fondness for. I even liked some of the music from the operas, albeit I felt as though a lot of it interfered with the actual story line, if they’d even had one in the first place! However there was one I did like in particular, one which I thought was oddly appropriate too.

“Der Freischutz.”

“Not really a march though is it?” the mare replied. “And isn’t it a song about… hunting? Hardly an Equestrian story.”

“The lead character is a griffin,” I noted politely. “And I think the emotional exploration of the lead role is portrayed very well.”

“You speak Germane?” she asked curiously.

I chuckled into my hoof. “Only a little. I think like most who listen to music in other languages, I enjoy the melody the most. Still, I think we all take something different away with us regardless of whether we can understand it or not.”

“Indeed.” The mare lifted a hoof. “Oh, look! Here they are!”

Everypony rose to their hooves as the music rolled out with fanfares and bells tolling. What a load of pretentious twaddle! I’d never been a fan of royalty myself, and as much I respected Luna and, to a lesser extent her pretentious sister, I’d never seen them as more than just a couple of overly privileged mares. With wings. And horns. Still, as ‘all powerful’ as apparently they were, it didn’t mean I needed to bow and scrape to them like so many of their ‘subjects’ did. I remembered all too well how the ‘blessed’ Celestia had bawled out her sister to insist I was exiled from Equestria based on nothing but her biased opinion of wendigo. Things were better now of course, for the most part, but there sure as hell wasn’t any love lost between us. And now, entering the royal box, were the two parents of the sisters themelves: God and goddess, rulers and beings of power that could shape the entire universe. Apparently. I could hardly see past the sea of ludicrous hats and hair-do’s that lay between them and us anyway, but that didn’t prevent the crowd from cheering as loudly as possible. Hooves stomped while neighs and shouts rolled out, all responded to by a half hidden wave of a hoof. Hoo-bloody-rah. I plonked myself back on my seat and instinctively reach for the pipe that wasn’t there.

“Bloody royalty!” I muttered.

“Not a fan?” the mare beside me said, leaning closer to be heard.

I shook my head, catching a scent of lemongrass that made my heart skip. Clearing my throat, I tore my gaze away from those magnificently alluring eyes and fidgeted instead with my pocket watch. “I have nothing against them, but I see no more nor less value in them than anypony else here.”

“You’re a socialist?” the mare asked in surprise.

“Ha! Hardly!” I took a breath and settled back into my chair. “I have absolutely no interest in politics whatsoever. I’m not one for all the pageantry and fanfares, that’s all.” I sighed. “The world will still turn just as it always has, regardless of the anything I say or do.”

“And yet the fate of one can affect the fate of nations.”

“It… eh?” I looked round in surprise at the voluminous pink mare sat beside me. “What are you…?”

The mare looked back at me with her large green eyes. “I beg your pardon?”

“Oh… I’m sorry.” My heart was hammering in my chest. Where was the white mare? I tried looking past the pink creature sat in her place. There was no way she could have move that quickly, unless… ah! Of course. Teleportation. She must have given her seat up for this lady. I apologised quickly, “My apologies madam, I thought you were somepony else.”

A snort was my only reply. Bloody misery!

I settled back and huffed under my breath. I’ll confess that as oddly engaging as the white mare had been I was more than a little relieved that she’d left, especially as I’d only recently made up with my wife. For once my luck was in, Meadow didn’t seem to have noticed my earlier conversation and was far more interested in fussing with Sparrow who was now complaining loudly that the candyfloss had run out. Little pest! Fortunately for all of us the music began to rise up in volume, indicating the beginning of the display. Drums began to beat, slowly at first, and then louder and louder until suddenly, from out of the jets surrounding the huge marble statuary that made up the centre of the arena, water burst upwards in a display of sparkling colours capturing every hue of the rainbow. Boom! Another burst, and another, and another! It was absolutely fascinating. Reds, blues, greens. Boom! My eyes took in the flashes of intense light, the bangs and crashes of the music accompanying the rumbling blasts of water, the feeling of power surging beneath your hooves as the horns called out the orders for the advance. I watched as the sea of ponies marched onward, moving and swaying in time to the drums of war as the flashes of magic from unicorns sizzled through the mist. We’d hoped the fog would hide us, keep us hidden from the enemy until we could surprise them. But their numbers were a lot greater than ours, our losses too heavy. Worse, their commander knew what he was about and he had outfoxed us completely. I knew with dread certainty we were finished. It was only a matter of time now before the end, but by the goddess I would go out fighting! I would take as many of these damnable creatures with me before-

“Fairlight!”

“DAMN YOU!” I shrieked, jumping down from chair and crashing into the ponies in the row in front of me.

“Fairlight? What the hell’s up with you?” Meadow stared into my wild eyes, her face a mix of anger and… and fear. “Stop shouting, your frightening everypony! Snap out of it!”

I could feel my heart thundering, sweat beading on my forehead. The armour was so heavy, pulling me down, down beneath the frigid surface of the water. I had to get out! I had to get out of this and get clear so we could organise a resistance to give our loved ones a chance to-

“Fairlight. Listen to me. You’re safe now, it’s going to be alright. Do you understand? Captain Fairlight, it’s alright.” The voice cut through my fear like a hot knife, but the water… the water was sucking at my legs, pulling me down, down into the bog, into-

“Captain Fairlight, I order you to stand down!”

Rough hooves grabbed my muzzle. I tried to escape, tried to push and heave and… and stare into those eyes. Those eyes! It was… “Pop?”

“Follow me,” he said levelly. “Come on, watchstallion, get those hooves moving!”

I obeyed.

“Dad?” Meadow’s tearful voice pulled at me from far, far away. I could hear her fear, her sorrow. I could hear Sparrow crying and shouting for me. But right then, right at that moment, all I could do was focus on the words of my commanding officer.

“It’s going to be alright, Meddy,” Apple Pop said firmly. “I’ll see he’s taken care of.” He turned to his wife and their eyes met, conveying far more than words in the simple touch of hooves as he led me away.

All I can say now is that I was damned grateful for Apple Pop right then. My mind was a confused mess of sound and light, surging images of war and death, the stench of fear and the tang of blood in my mouth. I lifted a hoof and wiped my mouth. In my flailing around I must have bitten my lip. Goddesses, I hoped I hadn’t hurt anypony in my outburst. What the hell was happening to me? I thought Bourbon had stopped this! Dear, sweet gods, what was-

“Take your jacket off, Captain.”

I did so, following orders as I always had done. It was so easy to obey, so simple just to do as you were told. The officer knew best, he would merely instruct me and I would follow his directions to the best of my ability. I was breathing in when the water blasted over me, half drowning me. The shock of cold brought reality slamming into me, hitting me like a brick wall. Another bucket full, and another, until I was utterly drenched, coughing for air. I sneezed out a blast of water and mucus as I held up my hoof pleadingly.

“Please! Enough. Celestia’s buttocks…!”

The bucket dropped to the ground. “Captain Fairlight, can you see me?”

“Yes, sir,” I nodded numbly. My eyes were sore from the water and I was shaking from the cold. “Apple Pop, sir.”

“Do you know where you are?”

I nodded. “The fountain festival arena, sir.”

Apple Pop shook his head, his face in a grimace that oddly suited him somehow. He nodded once. “Follow me. I’m going to do something I should have done a long time ago.” My clothes draped across his back, the former watch commander lead me away from the roar of the crowd and the music, to an area off the main street which in turn lead into a cobbled back road that was, blessedly, quiet. To my surprise, Apple Pop trotted over to a washing line and took down a towel. He passed it to me with that typically disapproving look in his eyes. “Dry yourself off. You’re a mess.”

The towel was rough, dry, and was just the thing I needed right then. I went to work, using a combination of magic and my forehooves, working on my tail and mane until I was, as much as I could be right then, dry. Apple Pop took the towel from me and hung it back on the washing line before beckoning me onward. I guess the owner of the towel may eventually have been wondering who those grey and black hairs belonged to, but hopefully they’d be lost in the rush. At least Apple Pop had put the thing back which was something. My sensibilities were slowly settling back to what you could laughably call ‘normal’ now. At least it was for me. Apple Pop and I kept walking, the warmth drying off the last of the dampness from my coat, and although a little uncomfortable I was beginning to feel a damned site better than I had earlier. I tossed my mane and let it settle. I’d have to run a comb through it later or it would end up looking a right mess. I chuckled to myself. Funny how things so small and insignificant came to the fore like that. I must have been a lot more messed up that I’d realised. Goddesses damn me… I’d thought, hoped, prayed even, that all this nightmare had finally come to an end. What a fool I was.

We stopped by a large iron gate flanked by two sentries in the gold and silver livery of the royal household cavalry. Purple cloaks hung smartly over one shoulder, the silver tipped lance upon their other, as lethal as it was ceremonial. The soldiers here looked like they knew what they were about alright. They were all white with blue eyes too, something I’d found Celestia had a penchant for in Canterlot for her own royal guard. The uniform may be different but that same stink of vanity was rampant even here. Still, I suppose they did look smart. Apple Pop was chatting to one of them, a fellow whose helmet crest I noticed was black and white instead of the usual purple. Rather than a spear he carried a vine staff and round disks on a chain mail shirt which I presumed denoted either rank or battle awards. He must have been some sort of officer, however unlike the usual posh types, this chap looked like the kind of stallion who had ‘been there’. Even though his fur was as unblemished and smooth as the rest of the denizens of the herd, he radiated an aura that screamed of war, battles to the death, and a lifetime of unfaltering service. In my minds eye I could see him, scarred and grizzled from campaigns the likes of which bards made songs for the ages. He drank hard, he lived hard, and, I suspected, he had died hard. Apple Pop took a step to one side as the officer locked eyes with me.

“This him?”

Apple Pop nodded, “My son in law.”

The officer narrowed his eyes, looking me up and down. “Name?”

“Captain Fairlight Loam, sir.” I snapped off a salute, keep my head up and legs straight.

“Captain, eh?” The officer kept his eyes on me as he addressed Pop. “You do know what this fellows reputation is, don’t you, Pop?”

Pop nodded. “As well as you, Argo. He’s seen more than anypony should have, and if there’s anypony I know who can even come close to understanding that, it’s you.”

“You realise of course, what he is though?” The officer, Argo, peered at me with those deep blue eyes. “I’d be taking a devil of a chance with him, Pop. This could cause concern with my… superiors.”

The green stallion nodded, “I know.”

Argo shook his head and sighed. “And you still want me to do this?” He huffed loudly, “Of course you do.” The armoured stallion fixed me with a stare. “And what of you, boy? What do you want?”

I looked from Pop to the officer and back again in confusion. What did they want me to say? And what the hell was going on here? Apple Pop glanced at his friend. “Give me a moment, Argo.” He walked over to me and lead me away around the corner where we could talk freely out of earshot. Apple Pop closed his eyes and took a deep cleansing breath before he began, “Fairlight, you need help. I can see that. Merry and Meadow can see it too.”

“I know that!” I snapped. “You don’t have to...” I groaned and leaned back against the wall. “I know, Pop. But what the hell can I do about it? You saw what happened back there, it was like I was in the middle of a battle and I was fighting for my damned life! Luna’s arse, I’m coming apart at the bloody seams!”

“Which is why we’re here.” Apple Pop stood tall. “Fairlight, I’ve seen ponies like you before. You’ve been through hell, I know that.” He closed his eyes. “I know because I’ve been there. Not in the same way of course, not in pitched battle as such, but I’ve seen things most ponies never have. Things I wish I never had. Those memories live on inside you, becoming a part of you. The herd does what it can to purge those memories from your heart when your mortal body dies, but there are some moments in a pony’s life that are so horrific, so traumatic, that they leave behind an indelible echo within you that never quite goes away, no matter how much you may wish it would.”

My heart sank. So this was how it was, was it? I was going to be plagued by these damned visions and memories forever? Goddesses above, this was like living in my own personal hell! And perhaps… perhaps it actually was. I could feel the chasm opening up before me and closed my eyes, willing the impending drop into darkness away. “So how did you manage, Pop?” I asked desperately trying to keep my emotions under control. “How did you, do you, cope?”

My father in law gave a rare if rather troubling smile. “By accepting it.” He clopped me on the shoulder. “Fairlight, you have been fighting this part of you since you came here, and I blame that partly on Meadow as well as myself for not acting sooner. You can’t go on the way you have been, so you have to do something about it that will help you accept who and what you are in a way nopony else can.”

“And that’s what this is about?” I asked, pointing back to the corner of the building. “Who are these ponies?”

“The royal guard,” Pop replied matter-of-factly. “They’re ponies like you. Like me too. When I first came here I was a mess, Fairlight. I suppose Meadow told you what happened to me?” I nodded in reply. She had, and it had been terrifying to say the least. Pop had been chasing down a crazed child murderer who had ended up killing him. Meadow had only been a filly at the time and had witnessed her father dying before her very eyes. She’d explained through tear filled eyes and racking sobs how the shock had sent her mother into a downward spiral which she never quite recovered from. How the hell could anypony live with that? And what of Meadow herself, raped and murdered before my eyes, knowing she was carrying our unborn child? Apple Pop nodded sagely, “Sparrow Song was what helped my daughter, Fairlight. That little foal was what kept her from drowning in sorrow, as well as Star Swirl arranging the connection to the mortal world so she could see you.” He took a breath, his youthful looks belying his age. “You, however, have been through your own nightmare. And this, these ponies, all share experiences that you will be able to relate to. You need to speak to others who understand you. They helped me, and I know they can help you too.”

“I’m not sure talking about what happened to me will help, Pop,” I said sadly. “Every time I even think about things that… that happened, it all comes back. All of it. I’d hoped that after speaking to Doctor Crisp, that understanding there is a part of me that is full of anger, full of rage, that I could finally move on. Today…” I rubbed my face with my hoof, “I don’t think its done bugger all.”

“What he did has helped,” Pop explained, “It is part of what you need, I’m sure of that. But it is the understanding of what has happened that you need, Fairlight. Working with others in a similar situation to yourself will give you that, putting yourself, your energy and your focus into something that will give you a purpose, and help you move forward with your life.” He raised an eyebrow, “Afterlife that is.”

I couldn’t help but raise a bitter smile. “And what, I join up with the guard? Stand about all day looking pretty?” I shook my head, “That’s not for me, Pop. You know that. You were a watchstallion and I’ll bet your view on the royal guard was the same then as it was for me.”

“Posers?” he asked.

I nodded. “Posers.”

Apple Pop adjusted his mane and fished in his pocket, extracting a small leather wallet. “These aren’t.”

The slightly dog-eared wallet floated in his magic before me. A small metal badge depicting a sun and moon sat above a tiny silver plate with his name engraved on it. Beside it, a photograph of Apple Pop with the words:

Soul Recovery Division
Royal Constabulary

The above named officer is a sworn member of the Royal Constabulary and acts with the full authority of the Royal Court and Elysian Commission.

My face must have been a picture then. “You’re a watchstallion?” I asked in surprise. “In the eternal herd?”

“Not as such.” Apple Pop slipped the wallet back into his pocket. “We’re a group of ponies who, shall we say, ‘recover’ the souls of the lost.”

Suddenly my hackles were going up like noponies business. “Wait a minute, you mean like those arseholes who tried to catch me in the Withers? Artemis, Phallus and whats-his-name?” I took a step back. “Oh, no way!”

“As accurate as the name you gave him may be, his real name is Thalio,” Apple Pop replied levelly. “Captain Artemis, Helios and Thalio were part of the recovery team that was covering the Wither World when you came to our attention. At the time I was working on the recovery of another soul and didn’t hear about what happened until it was too late.” He grimaced, “If I’d known, I would have gone myself.”

I raised an eyebrow, “It wouldn’t have made any difference to my decision.”

“I know.” Pop smiled, “Meadow told me.” He glanced over his shoulder and turned back to me, his voice decidedly quieter than it had been a moment before. “Fairlight, the herd doesn’t change who a pony is deep down. If somepony is, as you said, ‘an arsehole’ in life, I can assure you that dying does nothing to change that.”

Was that a joke? Goddesses, you never knew with this guy. Maybe I was wrong about him after all. As I reconsidered my opinion of my father in law, somewhere inside me that quiet part of my soul stirred. My gods, was I really going to give this serious consideration? Those clowns had thrown spears at me! Mind you, I wouldn’t mind getting my hooves on that arse Thalio. I would love to give that alicorn a damned good hiding and see how well he could dodge a… hang on… I stared at Apple Pop for a moment and saw the knowing grin on his face. “They’re alicorns,” I said.

Pop slowly nodded, his eyes twinkling. “They are.”

“Did they become alicorns somehow?” I scrubbed my chin in confusion. “How? I don’t understand.”

“Argo can explain more,” Pop replied cryptically. “Can I tell him you’ll at least consider it?”

“I...” I closed my eyes and groaned. “I’m going to regret this aren’t I.”

My heart leaped as a sound I’d never heard before nor ever thought I would, burst forth. Pop… laughed. “You know, Fairlight, I said the exact same thing when I was introduced to the hunters.”

“Hunters?” I asked.

“They call us ‘soul hunters’.” He shrugged, “A bit foolish perhaps, but we do a job that needs to be done. Without us, lost souls could end up wandering until they ended up lost forever. Or worse.”

“Worse?”

Pop nodded, “Oh yes. A lot worse.” He rolled his shoulders, his voice taking on its customary no-nonsense monotone drawl. “We do a job that helps ponies, Fairlight. Each of us do this for our own reasons of course, just like in mortal realm. For some it is to atone for wrongdoings when they were alive. For others it is out of a sense of duty. For me, it’s because I want to help those who cannot help themselves, like you.” He looked back over the shoulder, “So, it’s up to you now. Please, come and meet Argo and the others. There’s no pressure to join. They’d much rather have ponies who wanted to do the job than be there because they’ve be coerced.”

Against my better judgement I nodded my agreement. It wasn’t because I didn’t want to do something, nor that I didn’t want to help ponies, it was just… it was just that I didn’t really trust myself. Realisation hit me like an electric shock. Was that it? Was that the answer to all of this? Did I really have such little regard for own self control that I didn’t believe myself capable of doing something positive without messing it up? Had I truly lost a part of myself that had never really been lost? I’d known the answer all along, hadn’t I. I gritted my teeth and gave myself a hard shake.

“Pop?”

“Yes?”

“Can I have my clothes back?”

Pop nodded and floated them over to me.

“I can’t meet Argo looking like a bag of crap now can I?” I smiled.

Apple Pop chuckled. Actually chuckled! The old sod, I bet he knew something I didn’t. But whatever it was, it sure as hell beat stumbling along through the afterlife freaking out over loud noises and wallowing in self pity. No, I was more than that. I was a watchstallion, I was a wendigo, and I was still the lord of the tribe of the four winds. As I was now I wouldn’t be able to lead a troupe of minstrels let alone inspire confidence in warriors who were fighting a force four times their number. And win. My gods, we had won. And I would win again.

I finished buttoning up my coat, brushed out the last fold, and stood before my father in law. “Good?” I asked.

Pop nodded his approval, “Good.”

“Right then,” I announced, walking him past him. “Fortune favours the bold and all that.”

Chapter Four - To be a Stallion

CHAPTER FOUR

TO BE A STALLION

Even in the afterlife some things never changed. I understand that there have been numerous fashions and artistic themes that architects have had a particular penchant towards over the centuries, Canterlot being one of the most notable examples. You can, for example, see where the earliest buildings centered around the palace begin and the various changes in taste that occurred in later times spreading outward like the layers of an onion. On the subject of military buildings however, all aspects of taste, fashion, and goddesses forbid, comfort, were all mercilessly sacrificed on the altar of practicality. You needed a toilet? You got a toilet block. Needed a bedroom? You got a bed in a barracks. Needed somewhere to keep your personal effects? You got a locker. Showers, baths, kitchen: all provided for so long as you didn’t mind sharing with the gods knew how may others souls. The eternal herd was no different in this regard, probably to appeal to your typical soldier’s sensibilities, or more likely to cater to their expectations. And how low those expectations must be! I’d never been a soldier, not in the sense of one who had been involved in the incessant drills and square bashing many of these lads had. No, I’d been a watchstallion in my earlier years, which was looked upon by many as a ‘light’ version of the army. Indeed, many watchponies were ex-army, ex-navy, and so on. These guys and gals had been the unsung heroes of Equestria down through the ages, their exploits and acts of self sacrifice for the nation and their brothers or sisters in arms seldom mentioned in case it upset the general populace. Border security, defence against monster incursions, and, as in the past, all out war, were things that ‘just happened’ as if by magic according to you typical civilian. Everypony knew about the royal guard of course, and their ceremonial roles. Some even knew there was an army, navy, and air force. But would you be likely to find such ponies publicly acknowledged? Not likely. The Equestrian newspapers were well and truly under the yoke of the palace, and perhaps in some sense it was understandable to keep it that way. What purpose would it serve to know how close we had come to war with Yak Yakistan? Why would we want to tell our foals about how many ponies had died to protect their cute colourful posteriors, knowing the only ones who would mourn would be their soldier brethren and their family? It was the very definition of a thankless job, even when her glorious majesty’s smug mugshot hung over the desk in the seldom used foyer of the recruiting office. For me, it was a similar story. Dad had been a watchstallion, and I being the ever dutiful son, had followed in his hoofsteps. Of course neither I, nor I suspect my father, had realised how the poison of corruption would end up infecting the watch and subvert it into the corrupt parody it had become. With the backing of ‘The Commissioner’, they had turned against their own, myself included. Whether the rot could somehow be reversed, whether the once precious tenets of the watch to protect and to serve the ponies in our communities could once again become their focus, was anyponies guess. Personally, as much as it pained my heart to see the organisation I had once loved become this sickening perversion of what was once seen as a brotherhood of dedicated ponies, was no longer my problem. That was for the living. Here, I could only hope, vices that had plagued the organisation in the mortal realm such as greed and selfish self interest, would be completely absent. Considering the way the herd gave you everything you could ever wish for simply by, funnily enough ‘wishing’ for it, that didn’t seem to be as far fetched a notion as you may expect. Here, walking along the corridors of white stone, past the paintings of ponies who I didn’t recognise in the slightest, I felt strangely comforted. I couldn’t quite put my hoof on it, but this feeling of being under the eyes of those who had gone before, made me feel something I hadn’t in a long time: pride. I loved my homeland, I loved the serving and helping those who were helpless, and giving something back to the land that had been my birthplace and home. Duty, honour, courage in the face of adversity - these were all things that had been hammered into me by my father, and later, the watch commander and one who I would consider one of my closest personal friends, Chief Mitre. That dark blue stallion had sacrificed everything to help me, and for what? What had I ever done for him in return? But then that was what the watch was all about wasn’t it? You didn’t do something because you expected reward, you did it because it was right. It was the right thing to do. Even if it cost you your life. It had cost Apple Pop his life too. Poor sod, I hadn’t exactly been the ideal son in law had I? Ha! Far from it in fact.

My ruminations were interrupted by Argo stopping by a large set of dark oak double doors. They were, in military fashion, plain and fitted with simple brass handles that had been, also typically, so highly polished you could have shaved in them.

“Captain Loam?” The Lieutenant gave me a sidelong glance. “I’m going to introduce you to the Commander of the garrison, Marshal-”

“Well, come in! Come in! Don’t just stand there with the bloody door open all day, Argo!” The deep yet commanding feminine voice rolled out into the hallway, cutting off Argo who merely rolled his eyes.

“Captain, the Marshal is a little, shall we say, ‘unorthodox’ in her manner,” Argo explained in hushed tones. “I expect however, that you will manage to maintain your decorum despite her...” Argo sighed, “Just… oh, sod it, lets-”

“Aha! Here you are!” A snow white muzzle appeared around the door frame complete with spectacles on her muzzle and… curlers?! “Great leaping alicorns, I should have a buggering revolving door fitted with all these bludgers coming in and out all day!” I nearly leaped out my hide as she bore down on me. “Well, out with it stallion! What is it now, is the privy still leaking or are we out of blasted breakfast muffins again?” She threw her forelegs up in air in an extraordinary display of eccentric exaggeration. “And I don’t know how times I have to tell those dullards that there is a difference between cake muffins and bloody breakfast muffins! How in the seven hells am I supposed to run this place properly if the clowns in procurement can’t even get that right?” She stormed over to the desk and poured herself a glass of something that smelled potent even from where I was standing. “I mean, for Celestia’s sake, currants in a breakfast muffin! How are you supposed to butter that, let alone put jam on the thing I ask you?! What the hell is the blasted afterlife coming too? I’d be better off putting the cat in charge.”

“Um… Argo?” I whispered. “What should I-”

“And what are you two whispering about, eh?” The white mare’s blue eyes blazed as she advanced on me. “Got something to say, say it stallion! Come on, out with it!”

“I… er...”

Thank the goddesses Argo came to the rescue. “Ma’am, this is Captain Loam,” he began, “late of the Equestrian Watch. He’s expressed an interest in-”

“Has he now?” the white mare interrupted. “Don’t care for the name though. Loam sounds far too much like ‘muck’ to me. Have another name do you, stallion?”

“A… Another name?” I stammered.

“Yes!” The Marshal rolled her eyes. “Are you hard of hearing stallion? What’s your full name? Speak!”

I swallowed, “Fairlight, Ma’am. Fairlight Loam. I don’t tend to use my surname.”

She nodded, “And damned right too. Far too pretentious all these silly names. They had proper names back in my day. Names that meant something, not all these airy fairy names like Twinkle Wotsit and Toilet Sparkle.” She grinned broadly and clopped me on the shoulder. “So, Captain Fairlight it is then, yes?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Right then, let’s have a look at it then.”

I blinked in surprise. “Eh?!”

The marshal let out a loud sigh of exasperation. “Your cutie mark, stallion, your cutie mark!”

Argo gave me a nudge, and dutifully, if a little warily, I turned my flank to the Marshal and lifted my overcoat.

“Ah! Simple and to the point, eh? A magnifying glass.” The marshal smiled to herself. “Damned good item for working with the watch I say. Give us a clue, eh what?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” I replied simply.

She eyed me up and down. “Fine form, strong back, and you have a look about you that tells me you’ve seen the elephant my boy.” The Marshal nodded slowly. “Yes… yes…” Suddenly she thumped the desk and barked out a laugh, “I like the cut of your jib, Captain Fairlight. I do.” She waved a hoof dismissively towards the door. “Close the door on your way out would you dear, it’s perishing in here when it’s left open.” Argo snapped off as a salute and turned for the door. “And will you speak to the kitchen about those bloody muffins! If I’ve told them once I’ve told them a thousand times...” She sighed and trotted around the desk to her chair. “Drink?”

I nodded, “Yes please, Ma’am.”

“Ha!” The odd creature poured out a stiff measure of whatever was in the bottle and push it over to me as she swung her hind legs up onto the desk. “I like a fellow who knows what he wants. It was the reason I married my hubby after all. Now there’s a stallion who knows his spirits and knows which side of a muffin to butter too.” For a moment she chuckled to herself before suddenly leaning forward with a raised eyebrow. “Are you married, Captain?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” I replied smartly. “With two foals.”

“Two foals, eh?” She frowned in thought. “Both here?”

“No Ma’am,” I replied, politely taking my drink. “One is still in the mortal realm.”

“Ah… damned bad luck that, Captain. Damned bad luck.” The mare blinked her large blue eyes and flicked her mane, peering at me for an uncomfortably long time. “Have you been here long?”

Embarrassingly I opened and closed my mouth like a gasping fish. I didn’t know! How long had I been dead? Six weeks? Six months? Damn it all it could have been years for all I knew! I’d lost track of time altogether and it was no surprise either. In a place where time meant nothing and you had no reason to concern yourself about it, there was simply no necessity to keep track. When I was in the watch I would have been able to tell you what time it was without a watch, whereas now I didn’t even know what day of the bloody week it was. Goddesses, I left all that to Meadow now. I closed my eyes and tried not to look a complete fool.

“Not long, Ma’am,” I answered honestly.

The Marshal nodded slowly. “I know how it is, Captain, barely been here five minutes myself. Dead one minute and Marshal of the Royal Guard the next.” She shrugged. “Guess they were pretty desperate, eh?”

I merely nodded, wary of causing any offence.

“Take a seat my boy.” She held out a hoof indicating one of the surprisingly comfortable looking chairs. “Can’t stand ponies standing around all the time. Looks untidy don’t you know.”

The marshal’s eyes never left me as I sank into the plush chair and my body began to relax almost immediately, although my mind remained locked onto the peculiar mare before me. There was something in her eyes that made my mane itch, and it wasn’t her surprisingly unnerving resemble to Celestia either. Hell fire, other than the mane and tail they could have been twins. Oh, and the lack of a horn and wings too. Come to think of it, the only thing they really had in common was her coat colour. So why… Ah, the eyes, of course. The way those deep blue orbs stared into you as though reading the inside of your skull was like having your soul bared to the world. Physically she was attractive certainly, but I felt something else inside me stir when our gazes met. Was it… fear? No… there was something else. Something I couldn’t quite put my hoof on.

“So, what bring you to our door, Captain?” she asked, cocking her head to one side curiously. “I presume you have at least some interest in joining our merry band, or did you just get lost on the way to the bookies?”

“Bookies?” I frowned, scrubbing my mane furiously. Damn it, that itch was driving me nuts! I gave myself a shake and a tried to find the cool, calm centre that I clung to in moments such as these. Reaching down, feeling inside myself mentally, was soothing, calming, like stroking a sleeping cat before a roaring fire knowing that within that sleepy, gentle exterior, was swift and sudden retaliation. I felt a smile tickle my lips as I spoke. “My father in law believes that I need a profession to help me adjust to life in the herd, Ma’am.”

“Does he, now?” The marshal reached over and topped up my glass with deft hooves that made my use of magic look clumsy. “And who is your father in law?”

“Apple Pop, Ma’am,” I replied.

The Marshal smiled, “Ah, yes. Capital fellow. Made quite the impression on me, your father in law. Haven’t had that much time to get round all the gang yet, but all good things in time I say.” She waved a hoof at my brandy. “Get that down you, stallion. It’ll put hairs on your chest.” I took a sip of the brandy and nodded to her as she continued, “So, having trouble adjusting, eh?” A pair of bluee eyes looked me up and down. “And what do you think, Captain?”

“Me?” I shook my head. “Truthfully Ma’am, I’m not sure. I’ve tried everything else, but if I can contribute something to the community could also help me in the process, then what have I got to lose by trying?”

“What indeed...” The marshal watched me over her glass, her lush mane catching my eye. It was deep blue, lustrous, and cut surprisingly short. Everything about this mare screamed ‘military’. From the way she stood, right down to the way she had her mane and tail cut. Her cutie mark was hidden beneath a knee-length tunic that adorned simply with a border of gold thread. Tasteful, yet practical. I had the impression she could drink me under the table too. “I’ll be straight with you, Captain,” the marshal began, “If you want to join us then I’ll approve your application straight away. I know for a fact the boys would welcome a new set of hooves around here, and the goddesses know we’re short hoofed as it is. It’s an important job we do, and one that few have the stomach for.” She huffed under her breath, “Too much poofy frilliness in modern age ponies for my liking. Rather sing about problems than damned well do something about them. Ha! Where would we be if we all took that attitude, eh?”

“I don’t know, Ma’am,” I replied.

“Up shit creek is where, stallion!” She sighed and took a pull on her pipe, watching the pungent smoke drift up to the ceiling. “Things were different in my day. A pony knew where they were when I was alive, and serving your country was something you wanted to do, not made to do like it is nowadays.” She rolled her eyes and took another sip of her brandy. “As I said, I haven’t been in the herd long myself, but some of those clever dick shiny arses in the ivory tower thought I’d be ideal for the job for some reason. And now that I’m here, by thunder I intend to get this place running ship shape if it kills everypony here in the process! Again!” She smiled wickedly, “I’m not complaining you understand, Captain, but my predecessor was far too slack in his approach for my liking, and a slack stallion is neither use nor bloody ornament to anypony. Correct?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Well I’m sure that baking cakes and keeping a clean hearth and home may be the pinnacle of ecstasy for some ponies, but I for one am damned glad I have a job that keeps me from going bonkers from boredom, Captain. And aside from providing an essential service to the herd, the job has its perks too of course.” The marshal raised an eyebrow, probably expecting me to ask the obvious question. Instead I simply nodded and she continued, “I take it Apple Pop explained what we do here?”

“I believe it’s finding lost souls, Ma’am,” I replied honestly.

The marshal hoof thumped loudly on the desk making the glasses jump. “Absolutely, Captain!” She jabbed a hoof at me, her voice booming around the office. “Souls wandering around all over the place like blasted confetti at a wedding. It won’t do, Captain. It’s untidy, and unprofessional.”

“Souls wandering around?” I asked feeling more than a little surprised by this revelation. “Aren’t all departed souls supposed to come here?”

“Supposed to, yes.” The white mare shrugged, “But sometimes things that have happened to them in life can anchor them to the mortal world or, in more extreme cases, set them adrift in the nether world.” She nodded to herself, taking another pull on her pipe. “Of course, they tend to come here in their own good time, but others… well, that’s where we come in.”

“Soul hunters,” I said quietly.

“Silly name, wouldn’t you agree?” she replied. “But accurate, nonetheless.” The marshal suddenly jumped up and bellowed towards the door, “ARGO! Get your carcase in here, stallion!”

The door opened almost immediately, followed by the long suffering face of the Lieutenant. “You yelled, Ma’am?”

“Damned right I did!” the marshal snorted. “Have Captain Fairlight shown around, would you?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

The white mare adjusted her cloak and fixed me with a disturbing grin. “You two run along and have a look at our operation here. If you like what you see, Captain Fairlight, then Argo here will sort out the paperwork.” She chuckled, “Bureaucracy follows you even here, eh, Argo?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“And get that blasted mane cut, will you?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

At Argo’s offered hoof I stood and snapped off a salute. “Thank you Ma’am.” I paused, “Er, excuse me Ma’am, I don’t know your name?”

“Ah! Now where’s my manners?” She grinned broadly. “Golden Spoon’s the name. Late Colonel of the Celestian Royal Guard. I suppose it’s the ‘Equestrian’ Royal Guard now though, eh what?” She nickered and poured herself another brandy, gazing up at the ceiling. “Soft arsed posers. Now in my day they were proper soldiers. The best of the best...”

“Come on,” Argo whispered. “Once she starts going on about this we’ll never get away.”

“But…!” I protested.

“Belt up and follow me!” he hissed.

Argo had a point; I could still hear the marshal grousing as we rounded the corner into another corridor. She seemed a friendly sort, if a little peculiar, but she was typical of the higher echelon military types I’d met during functions and presentations over the years. The army had a tendency to attract the upper classes into positions of authority, if not outright recruiting them at source, but that was something I’d put down to the good old catch all term ‘snobbery’. As a pony I was probably as common as dirt, at least to those like the marshal, but I was who I was and that was something I’d lived with all my life. The types of ponies who lived in those swish country manors, the marble and gold villas around Caterlot and who often held lofty positions in the royal court, were as alien to me as understanding the minds of, say, Yaks. And, I would have to say, I had as little interest in either. Now Argo seemed more my sort of fellow.

“Is she usually like this?” I asked.

The lieutenant sighed, “Always.” He huffed under his breath. “She’s old school. Fought in the war against the Legion as Colonel of the Royal Guard and ended up here calling the shots.” The stallion barked out a laugh, whether ironic or not I couldn’t tell. “The old girl’s a bit nutty but she knows her stuff alright. And a good thing too: the seat was barely cold from our last C.O before she made herself at home and started brushing the cobwebs away.” He smiled, “She’s the real deal, Captain. And one we need too.”

“Who was the last C.O?” I asked conversationally.

“Some chap from down country,” Argo replied. “Decent sort of fellow, but more interested in mares than work. How he got the position is anyponies guess. Personally I like the new one, and change is not always hard to swallow here.”

“Or in the mortal realm for the matter,” I concurred.

Argo nodded, “You got that right.”

“What happened to him?” I asked, “Did he retire?”

Argo shook his head. “Nah, took the long walk.”

“The long walk?”

“Reincarnation.”

My skin shivered involuntarily. “Oh.”

Argo must have noticed my reaction and shrugged it off. “It happens. Ponies get sick of all of the blue sky, sunshine and rainbows, and one day they just… walk away.”

“That’s like… death for the dead,” I muttered.

The lieutenant chuckled. “Really? A new chance at a different life?” He snorted loudly, “You may think differently about it one day.”

“I don’t know...” My mind began to recoil at the very notion. “Goddesses above, Argo, it’s like that movie Meadow and I went to see one time, the one where they kill everypony when they hit thirty so they can keep their youthful utopian vision alive.”

“You mean Yoghurt’s Run?” Argo sudden burst out laughing, “Luna’s bum, you have one active imagination, Captain!”

Argo’s laughter broke through my concern like an ice breaker. Maybe he and Bourbon were right, maybe paradise really could wear on you to the point where you wanted nothing more than to simply ‘reset’ everything and start again. I could see the appeal if not necessarily agree with it, and if I’d been asked some other time, I may indeed have had a different take on things than I had at the moment. But perhaps… perhaps this, here with these ponies, was a different kind of opportunity at a new beginning for me. Just one that didn’t erase everything about you and plop you right back into the mortal realm as a newborn foal. If that alicorn Thalio and his gang had had their way with me then… hang on… alicorn?

“Argo?”

“Yeah?”

“Being a soul hunter doesn’t mean I have to become… you know… an alicorn does it?” I asked.

“Eh?” Argo blinked in surprise at my question. “An alicorn? Oh… No, no it doesn’t. Some of the guys here are, but not everypony.” He paused, “You don’t want to become one do you?”

“No!” I felt a shiver run through me. “Goddesses, I couldn’t imagine...” Couldn’t I? The ability to fly again was certainly tempting, but the haughty attitude that seemed to come with being an alicorn was something that gave me the shivers.

“I know what you mean,” Argo continued. “I had the offer but refused it. The royal family like bestowing ‘honours’ on those who contribute to the herd and being made an alicorn is one which a lot of the old hooves clamour for. Personally I like my hooves on the ground. Being an earth pony is who and what I am. Wings and a horn? Please!”

“But some are though, right?” I asked. “Like Thalio and Helio and-”

“You know them?” Argo asked in surprise. “Ah… yes, of course you do.” He stopped dead in his tracks as he turned to face me. “Captain, listen to me carefully. After what happened with you and those three...” He closed his eyes. “Just… don’t mention the wendigo thing, understand? Some things are best kept under your hat.”

Fantastic. I’d barely walked through the door and my reputation had preceded me even here. Sometimes I cursed who I was, but I would be damned if I’d let some ruffled feathers, quite literally, ruin my chances at a new start. I nodded to Argo, “I won’t say a thing.”

“You probably won’t have to,” Argo replied. “Your name will be all they need. I think we’d better use a pseudonym.”

“A pseudonym?” I asked. “What, a fake name?”

“Why not?” Argo said in a matter-of-fact tone of voice. “Lots of the hunters have them.” He jabbed me in the chest with a hoof. “You think you’re the only pony who has a past they want to hide?” He huffed and gestured to me to follow him. “There’s plenty of ponies here who were notable in their day, and believe me, if you want peace and quiet, changing your name is a damned good way to do it. Some ponies turn their muzzles up at what we do too.”

I was amazed. “They do? But finding lost souls is an important job! How could anypony take umbridge with that?”

Argo shook his head. “How? How did ponies view the watch in Equestria, Fairlight?”

“I...” I thought for a moment and sighed. “Like we were invisible.”

“Or a necessary evil,” Argo added bitterly. “You ask most Equestrians and they probably don’t even know they have an army, let alone a police force.”

“They remember quickly enough when they’re needed though,” I replied.

Argo nodded, “They do indeed. But you see why we don’t go around advertising what we do?”

I did. We were treated like ghosts for the most part, until the house was on fire. “They like to live in their own happy little bubble of reality, and anything that threatens that-”

“Is to be avoided like the plague,” Argo finished. “Right then, here we are.” He opened a rather innocuous looking door into a large round room with a high domed ceiling. It was dark, lit only by small magical lanterns set into the wall at equal intervals. “Welcome... to the nerve centre.”

Was this the briefing room? There were several chairs set out along with the odd desk, but certainly not enough for anything like I was used to in the watch for morning briefings. I was about to question this when Argo suddenly reared up, clopping his forehooves together and took a deep breath...

“Mappa Mundi!”

Light burst in the room with such intensity I nearly cried out in surprise. My horn itched with the reaction to the sudden surge in magical energy, gradually fading away to the familiar background warmth of being in the presence of a high intensity thaumaturgical source. And by Celestia’s ample backside, was it ever! Gradually my eyes began to adjust to the incredible sight before me. They were… globes? Yes, globes of pale blue light, all floating in the centre of the room.

“Sorry about that,” Argo said trying to stifle a chuckle. “Should have warned you to close your eyes until they adjust.”

“Yeah...” I waved his comment off, my attention caught entirely by the mysterious globes floating before us. Thy were simply incredible! Depicted in thin blue outlines were what were clearly landmasses, islands, seas. Looking closer I could make out forests, rivers, towns…

“Clever isn’t it?” The lieutenant said proudly. “One of the girls made the whole thing voice activated too so those of us who don’t have horns stuck on their head can access the whole matrix system.”

“Matrix system,” I muttered. “What is this, Argo? A map of some kind?”

“More than a map,” he said quietly. “This is our oracle, a map of all the planes of existence, including Equestria.” Argo began to walk around the circumference of the room, the blue light reflecting off his armour and his eyes alike. “Oh the unicorns among us would have us give it all kinds of fancy names, but it’s what it does which is what we really need to know. This thing is the bread and butter of our operation.” He pointed to one of the globes, “See this? This is the eternal herd, and here,” he marked out another of the globes, “is them mortal realm. Where did you live, Captain?”

I licked my dry lips, my natural curiosity piqued beyond comprehension. “Smiling Borders,” I answered.

“New to me,” Argo shrugged, “but alright. Equestria, yes?”

I nodded.

“Matrix, focus on Smiling Borders, Equestria. Standard magnification.”

There was a background tinkle of bells and the scene shifted, rotating to exclude the other orbs and zooming in, closing in on… “My goddesses...” I breathed. “That’s incredible!”

“Isn’t it?” Argo was clearly pleased by my reaction.

Sure enough, there before me was an aerial view of the town where I had lived with Tingles, Lumin and Shadow, all picked out in those thin blue lines floating suspended in the air by a level of magical ingenuity I never thought possible. I could see the road, the village houses, even the Wyvern’s Tail, the inn where I had thought I’d live out my days until… that happened.

“And this shows you where the lost souls are?” I asked.

Argo nodded, “Exactly. We receive information from the bureau regarding any souls that haven’t arrived, and after a pre-determined period of time we dispatch one of the collection teams to bring them in.”

“What are all these other globes for?” I asked.

Argo waved a hoof. “Matrix, zoom out map level one, please.” The blue light shifted again and the globes were back. “Some of the planes, or realms, are controlled by their own gods. Our jurisdiction normally covers the mortal realm, but on occasion we may be called upon to enter one of the others depending upon the type of recovery mission. It’s rare,” he said said with a shrug, “but it does happen.”

“And the Withers?” I asked quietly, staring at the map. “Is that here?”

“Oh yes.” Argo pointed to one of the globes, “There.”

He indicated another of the globes. Here and there were clearly marked out locations of villages and, like Equestria, each had their names below them. I could clearly make out ‘The Beyond’, ‘Purple Sands’, and more, many more. I confess I was surprised by just how many there actually were. I was also surprised by the sheer scale of the volcanic region where the dragons resided. A thought popped into my head, “Argo, what happens to thestrals when they die?”

He shrugged, “They have their own afterlife the same as we do,” he explained. “Can’t say I have much to do with them, but I guess you did, yes?”

I nodded, “They’re dying out.”

Argo grimaced. “Yeah, that’s too bad. But the old races… well, that’s something way outside my pay grade if you know what I mean.”

Unfortunately I did. ‘Not my problem’ was a common attitude I’d encountered repeatedly during my career, and it wasn’t just confined to the watch either. Most ponies lived in their own happy little world, oblivious to the horrors that lurked outside of it. Those less fortunate: the poor, the victims of crime – it always happened to somepony else. In fairness to Argo though, what could he, or anypony for that matter, do about the plight of the thestrals anyway? And indeed, why should they be bothered in the first place? They were the ancient enemy of Equestria and it didn’t matter how long ago the war had been or how many friends I had made amongst them in the Withers, there were some things that were simply too big for any one pony to do anything about. Even if they had the will to do it in the first place. The majority of equestrians had probably never heard of thestrals outside of fairytales or musty old history books. I certainly hadn’t until I’d been unceremoniously dumped into their world after being half killed by the sort of thugs that same majority didn’t think existed either. It was a sickening display of ignorance which our ‘glorious princesses’ did nothing to address, and an ignorance that had nearly cost them their lives when the changeling horde came knocking. Things had changed after that, carried along on a wave of rumour and conjecture about just how safe our pretty little world truly was. Celestia being attacked in her own throne room, Cadence being captured and the capital being invaded, were realities that were simply too large to be covered up effectively. The royal family had no choice but to address everything head on or else run the very real risk of losing the trust of the people. But even so I had my doubts about the extent to which the royal court would allow the cold harshness of reality to be filtered down to the nervous masses. Ponies were skittish creatures at the best of times and Celestia would be fully aware of the need to keep the lid well and truly fixed on that can of worms for fear of open panic amongst the populous. Meanwhile I could only hope that they would be making more of an effort to improve the military and the watch, weeding out those insidious tendrils of corruption that had undermined them so they could make Equestria strong enough to defend itself once more. I’d even had a hoof in that myself. Once.

“What happens if a soul isn’t collected?” I asked. “Worse case scenario.”

Argo didn’t answer at first, instead he stared up into the blue orbs, his gaze distant as though he were running his response through the filter of his mind until he finally answered, “Several things. None of them good.” He glanced over his shoulder at me before refocussing on the ethereal blue projection of Equestria. “A soul can ‘fade’, becoming a spirit wandering the nether world, forever embittered and twisted, one malevolent and hostile to any who bear the light of life within them. Others… well, I’d say it was best not to think about it too much to be honest with you.”

“So it does happen?” I asked.

Argo nodded his head grimly. “Sometimes, which is why we have to act quickly on recovery missions.” He waved his hooves and shouted, “Finis,” at which the light winked out, plunging the room into semi-darkness once more. “We haven’t had one go missing for quite some time, Captain. In fact, the first one to go ‘missing’ since I’ve been here was the one I’m looking out right now.”

“Oh.” I felt my mane twitch and I swallowed. “I see.”

“Still, all’s well that ends well, eh?” He clopped me on the shoulder, breaking me out of my ruminations. “Come on, plenty more to see!”

There was too. I don’t how many rooms we saw, but it was all there: the mess hall, the barracks, the officers quarters, assembly hall, training area… the list went on. I think Argo must have been either bored or actually enjoyed showing prospective new recruits around this monument to military architecture. That said it was certainly a lot more informal than I was used to, but I’d heard stories of recruiting tricks from times long since gone, and they way they would lull you into a false sense of security by coming across as your friend just before clobbering you over the head. The prospect of being ‘pressed into service’ was something that had definitely crossed my mind. Here though, what was the point? What enemies were there to fight? Goddesses, it looked like the swords and spears in the armoury had been polished so much that the blades were near paper thin. I doubted they’d ever seen anything more exciting than parade use and for sparring in what must be countless millennia. Now that I think about it, the ponies here clearly had a lot of time on their hooves, but in typical army fashion had used that time to clean their home top to bottom - so much so you could have eaten you dinner off the floor. I remember looking down at the granite tiles in the hall and seeing my own reflection staring back at me. Great galloping alicorns, how in Equestria do you polish granite?! One other thing that struck me too was the sheer number of stallions and mares here. There were dozens, if not hundreds if you counted those out on patrol, on sentry, and of course, the ‘collection’ teams, rather more enigmatically known within the ranks as the ‘soul hunters’. I was beginning to see Pop’s point with all of this though, as there was a real feeling of camaraderie here, a sense of ‘belonging’, that I could see even just walking around the place. It was on the faces of the troops, in the care they took with the appearance of the buildings, and even in the expressions of officers we passed. These guys and gals wanted to be here, they were proud of who and what they were. It was, metaphorically as well as physically, their home.

We finally ended the tour by the on-site tavern. Unsurprisingly it looked like the rest of the barracks, from its immaculately polished windows to the smart flower boxes flanking the door as if they too were on sentry duty. Blood red flowers, the colour of the Equestrian flag, stood in ranks, stoic even in the warm sunshine.

“You look like a fellow who needs a drink, Captain.” Argo held out a hoof to the door, “What can I get you?”

I gratefully took a seat outside and smacked my lips. He was right, I felt as dry as bone inside and out. “Wheat beer?” I asked.

“Back in a minute.”

Argo disappeared inside as I let myself relax. And relax I did. I hadn’t felt this at ease since I’d been to see Bourbon and ran like the hounds of the underworld were nipping at my particulars all the way home. ‘Home’… Well, at least Meadow wouldn’t be looking to string me up this time, not with daddy being-

“Settling in?”

“Bloody hell!” I sat bolt upright, staring straight into the far too knowing eyes of Apple Pop. “Buggering alicorns, Pop, you scared the bloody life out of me!”

The green stallion barked out a laugh, clearly amused at his own ‘hilarious’ wit. The sneaky old sod was as quiet as a cloud in the night sky, and just as unseen. “Letting your guard down, Fairlight,” he huffed as he took a seat oppose me at the rough sawn wooden table. “So, been having a look round have you?”

I nodded, picking my words carefully. “I have. Argo has given me the full tour, and I have to say I’m quite impressed.”

“Glad to hear it,” Argo said, reappearing with two foaming mugs. “Place is quiet at this time of day, so no queue.” He nodded to Pop, “Usual Pop?”

The green stallion gave him wink and the lieutenant went back to fetch our new companion a mug of his own. “Had any thoughts about joining us, then?” Pop asked.

I took a mouthful of my beer and licked a stray drip of foam away with a smile. I had. What Meadow would think about it all was something I would have to face later, but I had one advantage: the equine shield – daddy. “Let me ask,” I said with the most sardonic smile I could muster, “is there a coin in the bottom of my beer?”

“Taking the kings bit?” Apple Pop snorted and took a pull on his ale. “Old fashioned press ganging tactics are something you won’t find here. We’re all volunteers.”

“And now you’ve found another.”

Pop paused, looking up at me from his mug. “You’re sure?”

I grinned, feeling tension I hadn’t even realised was there slipping from my shoulders. “Hell, why not? It’s not like I've got anything better to do than gardening, and there's only so many petunias you can prune before you end up with bats in the belfry.”

“And Meadow?”

“Ah…” I closed my eyes and sighed. “I was kind of hoping I had a little backup on that score.”

Apple Pop threw up his forelegs, “You want me to talk to your wife?!” He shook his head as he leaned across the table, “Oh no, that’s you’re domain, my dear son in law. I’m the poor sod who’ll have to deal with Merry for getting you into this in the first place. And trust me, you haven’t seen her when she gets in one of those moods.”

Oh goddesses, this was all starting to sound dangerously familiar. I’d been on the receiving end of Meadow’s moods more times than I cared to remember. I stared into my pint mug, “Hmm, I think I know where Meadow gets it from now.”

“You’d better believe it,” Pop replied. “Ah, Argo! Welcome back, sir. Got yourself a beer?”

“Just as well,” Argo noted flicking his muzzle to indicate Pop’s half empty mug, “since you’ve already pinched mine, you old sod.”

Pop grinned, “Well, you said you going to get one anyway, so look at this way: you’ve got an even fresher one than this.” He took another swig. “Best get it before it warms up, I always say.”

“And never leave drinks around old warriors unless you don’t mind paying for another,” Argo quoted.

“Humph! Haven’t heard that one,” Pop muttered.

The afternoon rolled on with smiles, quips, and Pop and Argo chatting about old times. Despite the sometimes lengthy stories involving ponies I’d never heard of, the two of them were pleasantly accommodating with me and explained who they were talking about so I could keep up with them. From what I was hearing here, the ‘good old days’ were about as far from ‘good’ as you could get. In actual fact they were a damned site more brutal than I’d given them credit for. Being something of a history nut myself, I was absolutely riveted. So much so that we were well into our fourth round before the stories began to become, what I would define generously as, a bit silly.

“Hey, do you remember old Arse Fartington?” Argo chuckled.

Pop frowned for a moment before leaning back agog, “You don’t mean the griffin butchers son from Fetlock?” Argo answered with an enthusiastic nod. “Gods above,” Pop exclaimed, “what ever happened to that flatulent little piglet?”

“Tried ta swindle young Maggy from the bakers out of her winnings is what,” Argo said, knocking back another mouthful.

“Never in the world!” Pop shook his head in amazement. “Did he have a death wish, the fool? Maggy was built like a brick outhouse and as mean as that damned alsatian she used to keep too.”

“Yeah.” Argo took a mouthful of beer, swallowing noisily before burping, “Disappeared you know.”

“Who disappeared?” I asked curiously. “Maggy?”

“Nah, Arse.” The lieutenant tried to stifle a laugh and ended up nearly choking. “Vanished, just like that!” He banged a hoof on the table for emphasis.

“You think Maggy was involved?” Pop asked.

Argo nodded rather more than he actually needed to. Thanks be to the goddesses I wouldn’t have far to carry him home. As for Pop, he was rapidly becoming as merry as I was feeling too.

“Never found anyfin’ on ‘er,” Argo burped again, “Tell you what though, that dog of ‘ers looked a lot fatter soon after.” He gave us both a conspiratorial nod.

“What happened to the dog?” Pop asked quietly.

Argo grinned, leaning in with a wave of his hoof, “I’ll tell ya, since we’s all mates an all.” Dutifully we leaned in, keen to hear the fate of the furry accomplice. “He’d been to the vets you know, with bad guts. Vet says that ‘e ‘ad been eatin’ a rich diet. Very rich diet.” He hiccuped loudly which only made him grin all the more. “Farts comin’ out of ‘im were somethin’ fierce. Old mare wotsit down the road said you could ‘ear ‘im ‘owlin’ all night an’ the stench was so bad she could smell ‘im from ‘er ‘ouse.”

“So what happened next?” I asked curiously.

“It was bad back then y’know,” Argo said, continuing with his tale. “Not much in the way o’ magic lanterns, whizzy-wotsits an all that magic stuff, like what there is now.” He nodded slowly, holding up a wavering hoof for emphasis. “So one night, Maggy gets up to let the dog out ‘cause the smell is gettin’ too much even for ‘er.” He paused.

“Yes?” I asked. “And?”

Argo lifted his hooves, taking a deep breath for effect. “She lit a candle.”

“BOOM!”

Apple Pop’s hooves slammed down on the table making me jump in surprise. That rotten old swine! Gods give me strength, my heart was hammering in my throat and I’d managed to get beer up my nose too, making me sneeze like some blasted enraged foghorn. Of course my delightful friends here thought my misery to be highly amusing and their laughter rolled out around the front of the tavern, much to my distress and the hilarity of passing patrons. Still, even I had to raise a smile in the end. Like two old soldiers, the pair who looked no younger nor older than I, clopped me on the shoulder and… ordered another round.

Goddesses help me!

********************

Happy, half drunk, or as near as you could be in the herd, Pop and I said our farewells to the royal guard, two of whom helped do the honours and carried the now helplessly inebriated lieutenant back to his bunk. As for me, I all but fell on top of Pop in the process of loading him into the taxi. I’d have thought the miserable buggers at the barracks would have given us a lift back in a sky chariot, but no… no, we had to get a bloody taxi didn’t we. Celestia’s buttocks how I was sick of those bloody things! And why did it have to rock so much? I must have shouted at the driver to stop it at least a dozen times, but I’m sure the ignorant bugger was deliberately ignoring me. Now if I could only make my hind legs work…

When we finally reached the cottage the garden gate was mercifully open, and I managed to help Pop fall out of the taxi with the aid of the driver who, oddly, left without asking for a tip. I guess he must have been paid already by the barracks staff, which suited me just fine. I belched loudly and let out a right ripping fart that poor old Pop caught right in the muzzle. Well, not that he really cared much at the time, the old bugger was so far gone I was near carrying him up to the-

“Oops! Hhhhello Mea… Mea… MEDDY!” I began to laugh. Not, as it turned out, a particularly effective survival strategy for a husband wanting to have a nice smooch.

“Gah! Get off me!” Meadow recoiled in horror, “Fairlight! You’re… you’re drunk! AGAIN!”

“Iz… iz my fault, p… pet...” Pop belched beside me and tried to give her a very wobbly grin. “We’ve only ‘ad a couple y’naa.”

“Don’t yer dare loi ter me, Apple Pop yer old soak!” The indomitable Meringue appeared like the angel of vengeance, rising up from behind the already furious outline of my long suffering wife. “An’ Fairloit, is this yer doin’?”

“N… No!” I blurted. “We jus- we ‘ad a couple-a pints an’ signed up for the army, tha’s all.”

“What?” Meadow looked me in right my grinning face and shook me so hard the world spun around like a top. “WHAT DID YOU SAY?!” She turned to her father, shoving me to one side, “Dad! DAD! What has done? What the hell have you made him do?”

“E’s… ‘e needed a damned good proff…” Pop swallowed and tried again, “Proffesh-shun.”

“Atten-shun!” I laughed, falling into the ivy.

“Shut up, you bloody idiot!” Meadow roared. “I can’t believe it! This can’t be happening! Mum… Mum, do something! Please! Oh, Celestia, I can’t take this, I really can’t...”

A sudden sense of alarm battered its way through my alcohol soaked head. “Meddy, I… Look...”

“OH, SHUT UP!” Meadow span round, facing her mother. “I can’t deal with them mum. I can’t!”And then I could hear it: crying, coming from far back in the cottage. “Now you’ve set Sparrow off!” A pair of yellow eyes flashed in the lamplight. “Get out. Both of you.”

“Eh?” Pop blinked in surprise, falling into me for support. “What’s that?”

“I said, GET OUT!” Meadow snarled.

I smirked. Considering the circumstances it probably wasn’t the best course of action. “We’re already out, dear.”

“Then you can bloody well stay out!”

“But-”

The door slammed in our faces and the light went out in the corridor, dropping Pop and I into nearly complete darkness. “Bollocks,” I snorted and wiped my muzzle on my sleeve. “Well, sod her. We can’t kip- Pop?” I looked round. “Pop?” A pair of hind legs protruded from the lavender patch, accompanied by a surprisingly soft snoring. “Well, guess that’s it then.” I staggered over to the shed and after slamming into numerous garden implements and goddess knows what else, emerged with two thick work blankets. Carefully, or as carefully as I could manage in the appalling state I was in, I lay the two blankets over Pop and spooned up next to him. Despite the scratchy stems of the lavender it was actually quite comfortable out here. In fact the gentle scent of the garden, soothing and comforting as it was, was really… quite… wonderful…

Morning broke with a downpour, straight from the upended kitchen washing up bowl. My muzzle had never felt so clean and refreshed, with a pleasant lemon scent too. Shame I wasn’t expecting an impromptu bath and I awoke with a yell of surprise.

“Breakfast is ready.” Meadow gave a half backward glance as she headed back to the kitchen. “If you’re capable.”

Beside me, the groggy and dew covered form of Apple Pop stirred. The lucky beggar had missed most of the deluge, unlike yours truly. Somehow I had the distinct impression my darling wife had missed him on purpose and hit me full on.

A pair of bleary eyes looked up at me, “Goddess have pity… what time is it?”

Wiping the suds from my eyes, which stung too by the way, I pulled my now sodden self from the blanket and helped my partner in crime up. “Breakfast time, apparently,” I sighed, trying my best to peel my mane from my forehead. “We’re really for it now.”

“Do you want me to go in first?” Apple Pop asked muzzily.

“And give you the pleasure of a saucepan to the muzzle?” I joked drily. “Not fair on a guest, that Pop. No, I suppose I’d better do it.”

“Fairlight?”

“Hmm?”

Pop raised an eyebrow, “There’s an azalia stuck in your nose.”

Suddenly I could feel it too. One deep breath later I gave the damned thing both barrels and the floral decoration shot from my nose in a blast of mucus, dirty wash water, and petals. How the hell had I managed to get that stuck in there? And then it came back to me: I’d been acting the clown and tried to pick a flower to put in the barmare’s mane back in the tavern. All I’d actually managed to do was trip over my own hooves and pitch muzzle first into one of the flower tubs, much to the amusement of a crowd of onlookers. Something about that struck me as odd though, and it wasn’t just the sheer stupidity of my behaviour either…

“Pop?” I asked.

The green stallion was still brushing himself off. “Yeah?”

“How did we get so drunk?” I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to will away the oncoming hangover.

“Alcohol comes to mind,” Pop replied drily.

I shook my head. Probably not the best course of action I could have taken considering the pounding pain that was starting to make its presence well and truly felt. “I thought the herd had some sort of magic that, you know, stopped you getting legless?”

Pop nodded, “It does.” He groaned and took some water from the bucket by the standpipe, swilling his face. “It doesn’t work in the compound. A special ‘gift’ from the royal family for the garrison.”

“They let you get drunk?!” I asked in amazement.

The old watchstallion blew water from his nose and gestured for me to rinse myself off too. “Why do you think so many of them are retired soldiers?” he asked.

“I thought it was because of the ‘old soldiers never die’ thing,” I answered.

“True up to a point,” Pop said muzzily. “But there’s more to it than that. Come on, we’d better get in or it’ll be more than just a saucepan.” He lead the way to the front door. “Some of the lads are ex-watch, some ex-military, and many have a strong sense of duty and honour that followed them even after death. For others though… it’s because it’s all they’ve ever known.”

“They’ve never had a life outside the army or the watch?”

“Sometimes,” Pop said quietly, “you can... become your job. It consumes you, becomes part of you.” He gave me a sidelong glance. “Sometimes you forget who you are and simply become just another part of the machine.”

I didn’t reply. I had the distinct sinking feeling I’d inadvertently hit a raw nerve, and now was definitely not the time to be exploring any further into the old fellow’s past. Perhaps he’d open up and tell me more about himself one day, but if and only when he was ready to do so. For now though I was simply glad that I’d managed to spend what you could call, if you were being generous, ‘quality time’ with my father in law. Come to think of it, it was in fact the most we’d spoken since I’d first met him after coming to the herd. I guessed it was simply because he didn’t like any stallion near his daughter, but had I really made much of an effort to make him think any better of me? I’d have thought that by being a member of the watch, as he had been, we’d have had more of a connection than we did. Perhaps the problem was more with me, or perhaps the problem had really been that I had been in the watch in the first place. And gods, he would have been right to have been angry with me over that life choice. Look where it had lead me, and all those whom I loved…

Breakfast continued with the uncomfortably frigid atmosphere I’d expected. Meringue and Meadow served us with mechanical precision, and about as much emotion. To say it was unpleasant wouldn’t be an accurate enough description. My backside felt like it was crawling in ants in anticipation of finishing up and getting out of there as soon as possible. But, to my small credit, I managed to sit still and face the inevitable. The only question in my mind now, was which poor sod was going to get it first: Me or-

“Are you going to speak or not?”

Oh hell…

I looked up at Meadow and attempted a meek manner that I hoped would go at least some way to soothing the fire in her eyes. “Meadow, I-”

“It was me.” All eyes were suddenly on Apple Pop. His voice held no emotion, no sense of weakness nor of strength. He simply commanded, no, demanded attention. Neither Meringue nor Meadow interrupted as he continued, “If anypony is to blame for what happened yesterday it is me.” The old green stallion took of sip of his tea. “Meadow, Merry, you know my feelings on this subject already. Fairlight is a stallion, and he needs direction. He needs, as all males do, a strong purpose as well a firm hoof in his life.”

Silence fell before finally Meadow spoke. “He has a firm hoof here, Dad,” she said firmly. “What he needs is his family, not… not the army.”

Apple Pop’s eyes locked onto Meadow with an inner light that brooked no nonsense from his daughter. Still, my beloved didn’t flinch one bit under that withering gaze. Goddesses, imagine having somepony like Pop for a father! I suddenly found myself developing a new found appreciation for Meadow and what she’d had to put up with growing up. Although I’d never considered Meadow to be a weak mare, she was clearly a lot stronger willed than I’d given her credit for and I felt a warm flush of pride burn through me. If we hadn’t have been married I’d have had no qualms about fighting beside her in the thick of battle. Now the only battle I had to contend with was whether I could open the jar of honey in the morning to put on my toast.

“Fairlight is a stallion, Meadow,” Apple Pop said calmly, “and stallions need other stallions to help guide them through life.”

“My husband doesn’t need other stallions leading him to drink and smoking, Dad!” Meadow replied levelly. “He’s old enough to know his own mind without a bunch of drunken louts leading him into more bad habits.”

Apple Pop put his cup down and peered at the table top. I held my breath as he looked up and locked eyes with his daughter. “What Fairlight needs is to be given direction, Meadow,” he said. “Something a mare wouldn’t understand.”

“Oh wouldn’t I?” Meadow hissed angrily in reply. “I suppose this is some ‘male’ thing is it? Like some sort of mystical ‘code of the stallion’ or some such rubbish!”

“What would a mare understand about brotherhood, Meadow?” Apple Pop replied. “About honour, fealty, and dignity?” He straightened up in his chair, his demeanour calm but oddly powerful. “Stallions need to be able to channel their instinctive drive in a positive and controlled manner, else it become self destructive, both to them and to those around them.”

Hell fire, he made me sound like some sort of nut case that was likely to explode in a wild orgy of violence at any moment!

“And what about their loved ones, Dad?” Meadow asked, no doubt biting back what she really wanted to say. “How do they fit into your little ‘stallions only’ club? Just for birthing and cooking are we?” Meringue put a warning hoof on her daughter’s shoulder but Meadow brushed it away. “Well?”

Pop looked up from his tea, “You are part of his life, Meadow, the same as you mother is in mine.”

“But?” Meadow asked.

“You can’t control every aspect of it.” Pop took a piece of apple and munched it down. “You’re smothering him.”

“I… I what?!” Meadow’s mane bristled.

“You’re treating him like a foal all the time,” Pop explained levelly. “I’ve seen you. You treat him the same way you do with Sparrow. It’s not good for him, and it’s not good for you either.”

“I do not baby him, Dad!” Meadow snapped. “For Celestia’s sake, can you hear yourself?”

Apple Pop finished his tea and stood, looking from me to Meringue and back to his daughter. “Yes. Clearly.” He motioned to me to stand. “I cut the apron strings with you when you were old enough to stand on your own four hooves, Meadow, and it helped make you the fine mare you are today. However, I can see that there was a part of your education that was clearly lacking, and I blame myself for that.”

“What are you going on about?” Meadow replied.

“That you treat stallions like children, Meadow,” Apple Pop said firmly. “We are neither children, infirm of mind, nor the imbeciles you appear to take us for.” He looked at the clock and nodded to me. “I believe we have an appointment with the department in two hours, so if you two ladies will excuse us, we must make ourselves presentable.” He raised an eyebrow. “Young Fairlight here needs to wash his muzzle. Apparently washing up liquid is no substitute for soap.”

And with that I was physically manoeuvred from the room.

“Dad? Fairlight! Get back here!”

Meadow’s voice, together with her mother’s attempts at placating her daughter, disappeared as the door was shut firmly behind me. Goddesses, my heart was thundering! I was going to catch a full barrage of Meadow’s fury after this episode. I suppose Pop was right in some of what he said, even if it was a bit ‘over-the-top’ to say the least. What the hell was all that about brotherhood and honour and stuff? Sure, I knew about what had happened in the beyond with… what was his name again? And then there was… ‘thingy’ and, what’s-his-name, and… I frowned as my head began to throb.

“Headache?” Pop asked, leading me to the bathroom. I nodded in reply. “It’s a response to the spell blocking unpleasant memories,” he explained. “The magic is triggered when you enter the herd. The intension is to create a sense of calm and well-being. It works for most.”

“But not all,” I said bitterly, rubbing my temples.

Pop shook his head, “No.”

“I’m beginning to suspect you know about that a lot more than you’re letting on,” I offered.

The green stallion paused. “Do you know what honour is, Fairlight?”

“Of course,” I replied. “The definition of honour is-”

“I’m not talking about the textbook definition,” Pop interrupted. He leaned a hoof against the wall and hung his head, “I want to know what it means to you. To the stallion inside your heart.”

“I...” I closed my eyes. Images of my friends, fragmented and broken as they were, flitted around like ash from a camp fire. They had stood by me, fought beside me. We had fought as one, together, and bled together for what we believed in. In what we stood for as one. “It is to risk everything,” I said quietly. “To go into the jaws of death with your brothers and sisters. It is…” I nodded to myself. “To do the right thing.”

“To do the right thing.” Pop looked round at me, his eyes catching the sunlight as it filtered through the small window beside him. “Meadow told you what happened to me, yes?” I nodded in reply. “Fairlight, Meadow doesn’t know everything that happened.” He sighed and ushered me into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. “We had been looking for a murderer. He’d killed at least six before I managed to track him down. To a school.” He closed his eyes and took a breath, fighting back the pain of the memories. “They were all foals. All of them. Why he did it, what his motivation was, I never discovered. But I knew, what we all knew, was that he had to be stopped. Whatever it took.” He glanced towards the window with a far away stare that chilled my heart. “He… tortured them, Fairlight. That monster tortured children before he… he killed them.” Pop paused. “You cannot know what that was like, Fairlight, seeing them like taht. One after another, week after week of finding… pieces.”

“But you found him, didn’t you,” I said quietly.

Pop nodded. “But not until the bastard had added me to his damned list.”

“But you did stop him though, Pop, didn’t you?” I was trying to remember what Meadow had told me all those years ago. I remembered the pain in her voice as she recalled the nightmarish scene she had experienced as a child, of watching her father’s passing before her very eyes.

“No.” Pop closed his eyes and shook his head. “We never found him.”

“But...”

Pop held up a hoof forestalling me. “When I arrived in the herd I was a mess. My memories, the bitterness and cruelty I had experienced, although dulled were enough to have me segregated from the rest of the herd’s populace until I was deemed ‘fit enough’ to be integrated without posing a danger to either them, or myself.”

“A danger?” I gasped. “But you were one of the good guys! You helped ponies for the goddess’s sake!”

Pop nodded, “True. But you see, Fairlight, a soul cannot rest easily with… ‘regrets’.” He gave a look that froze my heart. “You can make your own hell,” he lifted a hoof to my chest, “in here.” Pop sighed. “I’d thought many times of taking the walk, of leaving the herd to be reincarnated and have everything, all the pain and the heartache, washed away with the memories of what I’d seen. And then I met Argo, and he convinced me to sign on with the soul hunters.”

I looked at him with a renewed level of respect. And then it hit me... “You signed up to find him, didn’t you?”

Pop nodded slowly. “I did. I didn’t tell anypony in the hunters at first, but I think they knew. They all have their own reasons for being there.”

“Did you find him?” I breathed.

The old stallion gave a bitter laugh. “No, but it wasn’t for want of trying.”

“But the killings stopped after that night,” I said, recalling my long evenings trawling through old watch records. “The watch treated it as a cold case and it was filed. In all my time working for the watch it was barely ever mentioned.”

“I’m not surprised,” Pop said quietly, “who would want to admit we’d failed, Fairlight? Failed to protect those most innocent in society.” He gave his mane a shake. “And it wasn’t just the watch. It was me. I’d had him, Fairlight, I had him! I had that bastard in my hooves and I let him get the drop on me. Goddesses, I should have waited for backup to arrive, but no… no, I went in like the old fool I am and… and I was too slow. Too goddess damned slow...”

“But you saved a foal, Pop,” I said woodenly. “Meadow said you found a foal there and saved their life!”

Pop shrugged, “And how many more could he have gone on to kill because I decided to act the hero, Fairlight, eh? One? Two? A dozen?”

“But he never did.”

“No.” Pop huffed under his breath, “No, he never did.”

“So he’s still out there, in Equestria?” I shook my head in dismay. “He may be dead already.”

“Maybe,” Pop said quietly. “But if he is I sure as hell don’t know about it.”

“He could have gone straight to Tartarus,” I reasoned.

Pop shrugged, “Perhaps, but even so, the soul hunters would have been informed.”

“Or they didn’t want to tell you in case it sent you over the edge,” I said.

My father in law gave a bitter laugh. “And end up as another nut job?” he shrugged. “You could be right, Fairlight, you could be right. In any case, my point is that I did what I did because it was the right thing to do. I put my life in danger to save another because it was the right thing to do. Like here, saving lost souls. Merry may not like it, but to me, to help me deal with my past…”

“It’s the right thing to do,” I finished.

Pop nodded, “Sometimes doing hard or painful things to help others is a way to help ourselves. Some may believe that to be selfish, and perhaps it is in a way.” He smiled, “I wasn’t always the grouchy miserable sod I am now.” He held up a hoof forestalling me, “I know what I am, Fairlight, I’m not blind or deaf. No, once I was the local nightmare in our village: stealing apples, acting the fool and breaking windows with my catapult. Once I even pinched Mrs. Bun’s knickers off the line and tied them to her dog.” He chuckled at the memory before continuing, “When my father found out and he tanned my arse red raw. It took months for the fur to grow back, and even now when I sit down I flinch sometimes.” He passed me the face cloth and wash bowl. “My father made me apologise and work off the cost of the damage, and all the time banned me from wearing anything that would cover the evidence of my punishment. But it was later, when all the work had been finished and he was satisfied I had learned my lesson, that he gave me the best gift a son could ever receive from their father: he explained to me what it was to be a stallion.” Pop checked himself over in the mirror, wiping away a stray crumb left over from breakfast. “He said that the hardest thing for a stallion to be, was to be a stallion, that we had to make sacrifices in life to help those who cannot help themselves, and provide for those we love, to fight to protect our home and families.”

“It sounds very old fashioned,” I said honestly.

“Old fashioned perhaps,” Pop replied, “but it doesn’t make it any less true.”

“And Merry?” I asked. “Does she know about all this?”

Pop nodded. “Never hide anything from your family, Fairlight. They may be angry with you, they may even resent you for it for a time, but honesty and openness are far better choices in any relationship than deception or lies.” He gave me a knowing look. “They always find out. Always.” I took the towel and rubbed my face as Pop put out a hoof to stop me. “You haven’t told Meadow yet, have you?”

I froze, my heart sinking. I couldn’t even remember telling him about it, but being the blabber mouth I am I must have blurted it out during our drinking session last night. And he he was right too. Of course I hadn’t bloody well told her. How could I? That thrice damned wizard had told me that I was still bound in some way to my mortal body, and that Vela, Maroc’s son, was planning on finding a way back to the mortal world to wreak some sort of bloody vengeance for the tribe’s destruction over a thousand years ago. What devils had possessed him to set out on such an insane quest was beyond my comprehension, and indeed, his own father had been helpless to stop him. But all that, the meeting I’d had with Star Swirl and Maroc, now seemed like a lifetime ago. A thousand lifetimes even. I hadn’t heard anything from him in all this time and had simply put it out of my mind, and my marriage. I didn’t want to think about it. I couldn’t. And yet… and yet it was still there, like a bad tooth just waiting to remind you there was a problem you hadn’t done anything about. And one day, when you least wanted to be reminded about it… it would return. Damn him. Damn all his bloody kind!

“Fairlight?”

“No,” I answered quietly. “No, I haven’t.”

Pop sighed and began putting his jacket on. “Don’t leave it too late, Fairlight. She may be hurt by what you tell her, but she’ll never forgive you if you don’t tell her at all.”

“I know that, Pop,” I snapped, “But how the hell can I? Dear goddesses, do you know what that’ll do to her? In case you hadn’t noticed, my marriage isn’t exactly all roses and buttercups right now you know. Telling Meadow I may have to… that I could…” I couldn’t say it. I couldn’t even think about it!

Pop put a reassuring hoof on me. “I know,” he smiled. “But trust me on this. Yes?”

“Easy to say when you have a happy marriage with Merry,” I replied bitterly.

“You think?” Pop burst out laughing, “Great galloping alicorns, Fairlight! Merry and I fight like cat and dog!” He gave me a wink at my surprised expression. “Just because you don’t see it, doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen. Ha! I can’t look a rolling pin without flinching even now.” He reached up and touched his forehead. “I’m sure she’s given me brain damage with the amount of whacks she’s given my skull over the years. If it wasn’t for the herd’s magic I’m sure she would have killed me a hundred times over.” He passed me my overcoat. “Now come on, let’s make a move. We’ve got enough time to walk it.”

“No taxi?” I asked.

“And waste such a beautiful morning?” Pop asked with a smile. “Besides, I think it best we, erm… disappear, before we get caught in another ‘uncomfortable situation’. Agreed?”

“Not very honourable,” I quipped.

Pop chuckled, “You know, I think for now we can put honour to one side in favour of self preservation.”

“He who fights and who runs away...” I laughed.

Pop opened the door and checked the coast was clear. “Absolutely. Come on, they’re still in the kitchen...”

Like thieves in the night, the two of us slipped out into the garden. A quick shouted “BYE!” was all we left in our wake, along with the clatter of pans and shouts of outrage that at some point I knew we would both have to answer for. Meanwhile at the back of my mind was the mental image of a young Apple Pop, pinching knickers off an angry mare’s washing line...

Chapter Five - The Eternal Gardener

CHAPTER FIVE

THE ETERNAL GARDENER

“And that’s it, is it?”

I released my magic and gave an apologetic look. “That’s it.”

The officer looked at me and the other younger officers before turning back to Argo, “You want me to work with this?”

Argo shrugged, “He’s what we’ve got, Tamis.”

The tan coloured officer in the white and gold tunic muttered something into his hoof. “You can conjour a flame and have basic object manipulation skills,” he said plainly.

I nodded.

“And that’s it?”

I nodded again.

“You’re taking the piss!” He turned to Argo and threw up his forelegs in exasperation. “He’s no use to us, Argo. For Luna’s sake, he’s nothing more than a walking cigarette lighter!”

Argo took his pipe from his pocket and tapped out the old burnt tobacco on his hoof. “He’s a fully trained officer of the watch, and I have it on good authority that he’s also a-”

“I know what he’s supposed to be!” Tamis walked round in a circle, fighting back his anger. “For bucks sake, he could have been the god of lightning for all the difference this makes. It’s what he is now that’s important. And what he is, is no bloody good at all!”

Argo gave me an appraising look. “Any good with a sword, lad?”

“Passable,” I said honestly. “Better with a war scythe, but I can hold my own in a blade fight.”

“A scythe!” Tamis scoffed. He rounded on me, “We use magic AND weapons, Captain Fairlight, not bloody garden implements! You want to use fancy crap like that then you’d be better off tending hedges than being a soul hunter!”

My mane twitched uncomfortably. “As I said, I can hold my own.”

The tan stallion’s eyelid began to flicker, probably more so because of the faint smirk on my face that I had tried to keep hidden. Badly apparently.

“Right then, smart arse, let’s see how good you are then.” He nodded to Argo, “We’ll see how ‘passable’ you are.”

Argo trotted over to a weapons rack and selected two broadswords that had been blunted and weighted for practice. “Sorry we’re all out of rakes and hoes old fellow,” he joked, tossing one to me. “You two’ll just have to wallop one another the old fashioned way while I enjoy a pipe, eh?” He passed the other sword to Tamis with a sarcastic smirk.

I treated him to one of my ironic sneers before facing my opponent. Tamis, a unicorn like me, lifted up his sword in the blue glow of magic and let out a loud snort. “Ready?”

I nodded, “Aye.”

We lifted our swords, saluting each other formally. Despite Tamis’ somewhat argumentative and snobbish nature, he didn’t seem a bad sort. Unfortunately what we had to contend with now was the typical hazing of new ponies you get with any large institution like the military. The difference here was that the recruits were usually time served and experienced, sometimes far beyond the level of the senior officers. The fact that I had seen combat, that I was a captain in the watch, meant nothing here. No, here what was important was that you could do your job, and that those around you could trust you to know your craft. I was confident in mine, and it was just as well too, as standing in the training arena with the master-at-arms we were beginning to attract quite the crowd. The buzz of conversation and ponies moving around as they took their seats was as equally exhilarating as it was nerve racking.

“En garde, sir!” Tamis barked and I shifted my hooves in response, dropping into the classic fighting stance.

I was ready when his attack came in. The dull blade roared through the air and I deflected it with my own, letting his sword slide along the flat with an ear ringing shriek of metal on metal. I held the grip up to protect my ears. We weren’t wearing any form of protection other than our tunics, and although the herds magic prevented serious injuries, apparently, you could still be hurt. And as blunt as these weapons may be, a solid clout across the lugs was something that I didn’t fancy at all! Tamis didn’t give me a moment to consider a counter-attack however, and continued to press home thrusts and cuts that were taking all my strength and skill to deflect. Under the weight of this merciless assault I was keenly aware of the fact I was being forced back - a sure sign of weakness that, judging by my opponent’s grimace, he knew all too well. If I didn’t do something soon he’d have me up against the arena wall, then it would simply be a matter of time before one of his blows made a solid connection. One way or another I had to fight back, and finally, knocking his sword aside for the umpteenth time, I saw my opening. I’d noticed Tamis’ attacks followed a certain pattern. Almost like a dancer following a routine, my opponent maintained a rhythm which I now used to anticipate the following swing as I pushed home an attack of my own. Ducking down and to the left, Tamis’ sword shot past my ear and I immediately reared up, knocking him aside and brought my sword swinging in for a cut that, were it a real blade, would have normally opened his throat up. For that split second, for only the time it take to blink, my blade seemed to find its mark.

Before he was on me again.

How…?! Tamis’ sword hilt hammered down on my skull with a resounding thump. At the last moment I’d seen the flash of magic, the mind bending shift of what you saw with your eyes reappearing in another location with such speed you simply couldn’t react in time. And now, crashing to my knees on the arena floor, I’d paid for my complacency.

Tamis walked away swinging his sword. “La!”

“Hit!” Argo announced.

There was a resounded roar of applause from the crowd and my ears burned with embarrassment as much as the pain lancing through my skull. Spitting sand and saliva from my mouth, I pulled fought back my body’s demands to stay still and hauled myself to my hooves. Watching all of this with undisguised relish was Argo, standing on his hind legs and leaning casually against the arena gate as if the sight of two of his colleagues beating each other senseless was as normal as reading the morning paper! The lousy sod was even smiling… smiling! He gave me an encouraging wave of a hoof, apparently expecting more than just a few seconds of action. He wasn’t the only one either, the crowd too were starting to bay for more as well. The deafening stomping of hooves, neighing and shouts, reminded me of a hoofball match during the height of the premier league. Bloodthirsty swines! Mind you, I wasn’t here for their entertainment, I was here for myself, and for the sake of my own honour. I closed my eyes, taking a moment to catch my breath and took up my sword once more. Tamis obliged, saluted me respectfully, and this time… he waited. Stepping around each other I took the measure of my opponent. Tamis wasn’t averse to using magic, that was much was obvious already, and he would use it in any form he could to defeat me. He was creative too, and that alone threw in a degree of unpredictability that made him a seriously dangerous opponent. I drew back, watching how he moved, how he kept the point of the sword aimed at my chest, and launched my attack.

I felt the tingle of magic before I saw it. There was a tiny, almost microscopic delay between Tamis being in front of me and reappearing somewhere else to attack from my blind spot. This time though I was ready for it, barely, and managed to take his hacking blow on my sword as I simultaneously threw myself at him. Apparently body slamming your opponent was something Tamis wasn’t especially familiar with, and he gasped in shock as we connected. I didn’t give him a chance to recover as my forehoof smashed into his jaw whilst his grip on his sword faltered and the blade fell dully onto the sandy arena floor. Snarling through the air, my own came up and I shifted the point to…

“Damn!”

I dropped to the ground into the space Tamis had occupied barely a millisecond earlier. Rolling was the only thing that saved me this time, and I barely avoided the dagger thrust into the ground where I’d fallen. Immediately the small blade was withdrawn and the previously dropped sword enveloped in the glow of his magic, ready for another attack.

Being on the ground was the worst place to be in a fight. You were effectively immobilised, with little in the way of being able to fight back. In the watch we were trained to constantly be on the move, to not let your opponent take the advantage from you. If you were knocked down, you had to do whatever it took to get back up whilst simultaneously preventing your opponent from making your immobility permanent. It was easier said than done of course, especially as Tamis was doing everything he could to prevent me from gaining my hooves. He swung behind me and I span, jamming one of my hind legs into the arena floor to get some purchase. But in a flash he was there once again, slamming my hoof away with his damned magic while trying to impale me. I suppose I could have taken the hit and we would have had to have reset the bout once more, but I would be damned if I’d go down like this. It was then that I realised just how much I’d relied on my wendigo magic in battle. It didn’t just give you offensive and defensive magic, it gave you added mobility, the means to fly and move like the wind. I might not be able to teleport, but my senses were keener, sharper. Now I felt like what those damned foals used to call me: a cart horse, a numb, dumb animal of a pony who couldn’t see past the next bucket of apples. A huff of effort announced Tamis’s sword catching my back, the metal grating over my spine and snagging the fur painfully. Everything paused.

Argo’s judgement in the matter was absolute. “Just a graze. Carry on.”

Hell fire! I couldn’t just- Tamis’ sword howled in, his yell of fury making my body react almost instinctively. I rolled, again and again, scooting round to catch my breath, to do my best to avoid that blade, to just get back on my hooves any way I could. Each time I dodged him, Tamis’ magic flared as he teleported this way and that making my mind spin and my body jerk each time he tried to hit me. And then, mercifully, I felt the arena wall behind me. It was the space I needed, the chance I had to have. I stabbed feebly at Tamis’ face and he effortlessly knocked my blade away. But in that instant I threw the sand up at him making the tan stallion recoil as I finally got to my hooves.

The crowd roared behind me, and a familiar voice, a voice I recognised, called out, “Come on, boy! Come on!”

Damn him! I gritted my teeth and did what felt more familiar than magic: I gripped the sword in my hooves, rearing back onto the hind legs and shifted my balance. It was the way I’d seen warriors fight who had no magic. It was how I had fought, how my brothers and sisters had fought. Held in the mouth, the hooves, by magic - it didn’t matter how you did it, all that really mattered was defeating your enemy. And now… now this pony was my enemy. Not my real enemy of course, but if I didn’t start seeing him as one now I was finished. Practice blade or no, Tamis meant business and I had better kick myself into gear or-

“HA!”

Tamis neighed angrily at his failed strike. His sword missed by muzzle as much by luck as by my attempt at dodging the incoming attack. If that had struck home I would have had half my teeth and probably my jaw smashed! I felt a shiver run through me and tried to reach down inside myself, to tap that reserve of focused anger and rage that had saved my life more times than I cared to imagine. It was like groping in the bath for an elusive bar of soap. You knew it was there, it was slippery, dodging your attempts at catching the damn thing, but eventually through patience and determination, you would win. You just had to stop flailing, to feel gently, carefully, easing it into your grip. Of course you could always empty the bath… That was it! Why hadn’t I seen this earlier? Tamis was breathing oddly, his eyes a little unfocussed. And the tingling of my horn felt different too, as though Tamis’ magic was taking longer and longer to build before he teleported. It was only a minute change, but it was there alright. I took a breath and walked towards him. With a sudden shout I lunged, halted, turned, changing my forward thrust into a swinging cut that howled through the air. Tamis appeared almost at the exact moment my sword slammed into the side of his head. The heavy impact was jarring and I nearly lost my grip on the hilt. But it was enough. Tamis staggered back spitting blood, and fell heavily against the arena wall.

“Hit!” Argo called.

And it was. Fortunately for him, Tamis had moved his head at just the right instant to avoid losing an eye, but it was still a resounding hit. A true blade would have killed or incapacitated him completely. Instead, the tan stallion sank to his haunches, panting for breath. Equally exhausted, I walked up to him.

“I think that makes it one each.” I reached out my hoof, “Want to go again or call it a day?”

Tamis reached up to cheek and winced, “ Call it a day?” He reached Argo who was grinning ear to ear. “Damn it all...”

Argo chuckled, opening the arena gate for us. “You do know he’s not a beginner right, old friend?”

“Of course I bloody do!” Tamis snapped. He flinched and rubbed his cheek again. “I’ve never seen a pony with magic use their body like that before. One or the other, yes, but both?” He gingerly shook his head, “No.” The tan stallion peered at me askance. “You are a unicorn aren’t you?”

I smiled, rubbing my own injury. “I had to learn how to deal without magic for a while after my horn was smashed, but… yeah.”

“Well you certainly got the crowd roaring for more,” Argo observed happily. “They want another round. Best of three?”

“You’ve got to be kidding!” I gasped. “My head’s splitting!”

“Huh! He nearly decapitated me,” Tamis replied bitterly.

“Aw, don’t you fret, old friend,” Argo joked, clopping the tan stallion on his shoulder, “I suppose it’ll teach you not to underestimate the newbies in future, eh?” He shrugged and motioned to the audience. “I’ll go and get rid of the riff-raff. You two go and see the medic before I get myself into bother.”

I could hear Argo placating the bloodthirsty crowd who were clearly still keen on seeing the two of us pound each other into oblivion as we walked, or rather ‘stumbled’, to the medical block. So much for the herd repressing unpleasant thoughts! Still, I’d like to think we’d given them a show that had been worth watching, even if it had been a touch one-sided. Thankfully it was only a short walk away to our destination, and Tamis all but collapsed into one of the chairs, waving to another beside him which I took gratefully. Concentrating on my breathing I tried my best to take my mind off my aches and pains as I looked around the room. By and large it was a fairly spartan affair, set about with the odd flower vase and a desk which was currently unoccupied. A pile of magazines, no doubt donkeys years out of date, were piled up on a small table nearby for the dubious benefit of waiting patients. Most of them were dog-eared copies of ‘Which Chariot’, ‘Good Stablekeeping’, and ‘Mare’s Own’ - none of which appealed to me right then. The tan coated unicorn beside me groaned as he shifted his position, pulling his tail out from under him and muttering something I couldn’t quite catch.

“So, are the stories about you true then?” he asked. “About the whole wendigo thing?”

Goddesses, I’d been dreading this. Ponies in the local town were used to me now and my notoriety had soon been forgotten about, or more likely simply ignored when the latest ‘new interest’ came along. Whatever the reason it was a blessing as far as I was concerned, allowing me to go shopping with my family in peace without being midered every five seconds. Thankfully Equestrians had a remarkable capacity for slipping things into the mental tray marked ‘too difficult’. I remembered one of the officers in the watch actually had one of those too, and I often wondered whatever happened to files that ended up in there.

I caught Tamis’ expectant gaze and shrugged. “To be truthful with you I don’t know what stories they’ve been telling about me,” I said honestly. “If it’s the one about ‘saving one of the princesses’, then no, I didn’t. At least, the one I ‘saved’ wasn’t a princess, and she wasn’t even a pony either.”

“Oh?” Tamis asked, his curiosity peaked. “What was she, a griffin? Yak?”

I shook my head, “A thestral. The daughter of the Duke and Duchess of the The Beyond.”

Tamis’ eyes grew larger as his mouth opened and closed. “A thestral?” I noticed his neck shiver as he looked away. “Can’t say I’ve had much to do with them since the war,” he huffed, “and the less the better as far as I’m concerned.”

“The war?” I asked. “You were fought in the war against Nightmare Moon’s forces?”

The tan stallion nodded quietly. “If you can call it a war, it was more like wholesale slaughter.” He leaned back and closed his eyes. “I was in the centre line at River Valley with the rest of the newbies, facing off against an enemy we new absolutely buck all about. We never stood a bloody chance. We were kids: young, idealistic kids, lead by arseholes whose experience of war was a game of conkers in the school playground.” Tamis huffed under his breath, “We were cut down like wheat before the scythe.” He raised an eyelid, “Your favourite weapon, apparently.” He let out a loud groan. “It was a massacre, Captain. They went through like a hot knife through butter, and as for me? Well, I was just another casualty. One of hundreds, maybe even thousands. I don’t think anypony bothered to keep score that day.”

“I’m sorry...” I said quietly.

Tamis barked out a laugh, “Ha! Doesn’t matter now, that was over a thousand years ago in Equestrian time. Here we try to be a bit more enlightened about such matters. Otherwise…” he smiled grimly, “you can let your own bitterness consume you.” He gave me a look that sent a shiver down my spine. “That’s why many of us came here.”

“You couldn’t let go?” I asked. “Of the memories I mean.”

Tamis nodded. “Not at first. But time, I’m always told, heals all apparently. For some that sentiment is true: the passing of the years eases the heart and soothes the soul. But for many, like the old soldiers here, conflict never quite leaves you entirely. Whether it’s because of past wrongs, violent death, or because they knew nothing else, regardless of what they tell you, Captain, we all have a story to tell. The herd’s magic may help to a degree, but some wounds are deep enough that the scars, the invisible ones, never fully heal.”

“Is that why some take the long walk?” I asked.

Tamis sighed. “Yes, for some at least. The pain never quite goes away you see, you just learn to live with it, or…” He didn’t finish what he was going to say. He didn’t need to.

“And what about you?” I asked. “What made you join?”

“Same reason you joined I suppose.” Tamis replied. “I needed something to do.” He gave me a wink and smirked, “Plus you get all the ale you can drink.”

“Goddesses above, you got that right!” I joked, and got up from my chair. “Hey, do you think anypony is going to come and see to us?” I reached up and rubbed my head. The pain had all but gone now and I was starting to wonder if I was wasting my time being here.

Right on cue the back door opened and a white overcoated blue stallion appeared, clucking his tongue as he climbed up onto the chair behind the desk. “Right, what is it this time?” he grumbled.

Tamis held up a hoof stalling me. “Injuries from sparring practice, Doc,” he said in his business-like tone.

The blue stallion rolled his eyes. “Right, let’s have a look at you then.” He waved Tamis over to the desk for what turned out to be a surprisingly brief examination. “Nothing serious, you’ll be fine in an hour or two.” Next he waved a hoof at me and looked at my head. “Same for you. Couple of hours of rest and you’ll be fit enough to beat the stuffing out of each other again.” The doctor turned back to his desk. “Sign the book both of you, and do try to wear armour next time, eh? There’s a reason we have the damned stuff?”

A look passed between myself and Tamis. Neither of us had apparently given it any thought. Sure, you could survive some brutal treatment in the herd and the magic here healed you, but it could still hurt like hell in the meantime. I took the quill from Tamis and duly signed the injury book. What the point of having such a thing was, was beyond me though. Still, I suppose it kept somepony somewhere in a job. But what job? No wonder the doctor looked bored! The poor bugger was probably here more for the booze than treating ailments. But anyway, with that piece of red tape dealt with the two of us walked outside where we were met by the illustrious Argo. Judging by his expansive grin he was clearly enjoying the sight of us walking solemnly from the office like two chastised foals.

“Get your hooves rapped?” he chuckled.

Tamis ignored him. “I think I can safely say that if young Fairlight here can fight as well out there as he did in the arena, we can sign him off as fit for service,” he offered.

Argo’s face lit up and he clopped me on the shoulder, “There you go! Knew you’d do it!”

I frowned. “Do what? All I did was spar with Tamis and get my skull cracked.”

“Well, yeah,” Argo shrugged, “but even with your crappy magic you were able to land a good one on him, which is more than can be said for most.” He waved a hoof at his friend. “Don’t tell him that though, it’ll go right to his noggin. And that’s big enough as it is.”

“Oh, sod off!” Tamis snapped. But I could see the merriment in his eyes, and Argo’s smirk never faltered.

“So what now?” I asked.

Tamis shrugged, “We’ll get you kitted out and you’ll be assigned a team mate to mentor you. When you’ve done that we’ll send you out on a few milk runs so you can get the hang of things.”

“Milk runs?” I looked to Argo for help.

“He means basic missions,” Argo explained. “They’ll help you get your head around how we do things.”

A shout from across the courtyard caught our attention.

“Tamis? You’re needed. Argo? You too.”

“Get yourself down to stores, lad,” Argo said, then paused. “Oh, and I’ve booked you in under that name you gave me.” He smirked wickedly, “Corny.”

Oh goddesses, what had I done?! The two hurried away and I was left to find my own way to the stores office. Fortunately for me it was easily found, avoiding an embarrassing round of asking for directions. In typical military fashion, the compound had been laid out in a simple manner so even a new recruit like me could find my way around. And so in short order I was tooled out in a simple barding of light armour, sword, spear, and a rather dapper purple cloak trimmed with silver and gold thread. Part of me wished Meadow was there to see me, until I remembered that at some point I was going to have to face her wrath once I got home. The stores pony had asked if I was going to be barracked at the compound, and for a moment I’d actually considered it too, coward that I am. I gave myself a hard shake and snorted. No, I was going to have to face the music and explain why I had done what I had done. Surely she wouldn’t be that angry? After all, I was doing something positive and she had been nagging me for ages to take on a job in the town anyway. Right? Right… who was I kidding? I was in for it, and not just for joining up either. I’d run off like a naughty child and it was going to take all my reasoning and grovelling skills to bring her round. Hopefully Pop would have gone at least some way to helping smooth things over by the time I got home. In the meantime I’d just have to make sure I didn’t stink of tobacco and alcohol - vices that had gotten me into hot water with her on previous occasions. I was walking out of the stores, paperwork signed and on my way to the main office when two ponies walked past me lost in conversation...

“...while they were at the fountain festival? Damn!”

“Yeah, the marshal’s flipping her lid over it. The duty guard are being investigated for dereliction, but you know what security’s like there.”

“You couldn’t get a moth in that place without setting the bloody alarms off.”

“I know, the court mage set it up himself and you know what he’s like about things like that. The guys got a rod so far up his arse you could use him as a mop.”

“Gotta be an inside job. Has to be.”

“Whatever it was, some poor bugger’s gonna be for it all right. Just glad it isn’t me...”

The voices drifted off along the corridor leaving me alone with my thoughts. So, all wasn’t quite as rosy in the herd after all then it seems. Interesting. I made my way to the main office and hoofed over my papers which were duly inspected, stamped, and filed. Well, that was it then, there was no going back now. For good or ill I was a part of the royal guard, or more specifically the enigmatically named ‘soul hunters’. All in all it felt like a bit of a non-event really. Turn up, meet the boss, sign in, get yourself battered in the arena, and you were in. Simple. One of the not-so-insignificant problems I would have to handle was that there was a chance I could be working away from home for days at a time. Not that time held much meaning in the herd of course, but for Meadow, this could be yet another stick to hit me with. I let out a sigh and felt my earlier excitement of having a new role in the afterlife deflating into a grim acceptance that she was, in all likelihood, not going to share my optimism. I looked up my new duty roster and noted the lessons that were to come to try and take my mind off things. They started the next day. Early. So much for having time to come to terms with things with my family then. So far it had been a bloody disaster! First my guts exploding at the play, then that business with Bourbon, and to cap it all my public freak-out at the fountain festival. What a mess…

“Ready for off?” It was Pop. “Looking sharp there, ‘Corn Bread’.”

“Do I have to use that stupid name?” I asked bitterly. “I don’t know how many ridiculous pseudonyms I’ve had to use over the years, but what’s wrong with me using my real name here?”

Pop raised an eyebrow at me in his familiar critical manner. “I thought we’d already gone over that?”

“We...” I sighed. “Yes, I know, it’s just… I suppose I’m just worried about tonight.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that,” Pop said offhoofedly, “I’ve made arrangements.”

“Arrangements? What arrangements?” My heart suddenly surged in my chest. “What have you done? Pop?!”

“Oh belt up.” The green stallion rolled his eyes and lead me off to the locker room. Apparently he had no intention of telling me, and tonight was going to be a ‘pleasant surprise’. Or maybe not so pleasant, if that horrible sense of dread building within me were any judge. Goddesses, I was feeling sick already and now Pop was making matters worse by playing some sort of father-in-law prank by keeping me dangling with his word games! Well to hell with him! I wasn’t going to play his game, and I didn’t ask any more. Infuriatingly he didn’t mention it again either which made my ears burn with anger all the way home, up the garden gate, and into the hallway where Meringue met us by the lounge door.

“Ah, there yer are.” The peculiar west country mare blocked us from going in. “Don’t you be takin’ yer coat orf, love. O’ive arranger fert Berry thar baker’s woif up on top a’ill a ways ter meet us fer cakes an a natter.”

Pop groaned, “I’ll keep my coat on then, shall I?” He turned to me and gave an apologetic look. “Guess we’ll see you later then, Fairlight.”

“Yeah...” I went to ask Merry how Meadow was but was met with the view of my in-laws rather quickly disappearing through the front door which was promptly closed behind them. A moment later it re-opened.

“Fairloit? O’ive left some cake’s in’t oven fer la’er,” Merry chirped. “‘Elp yerself, but let ‘em cool furst, okay?”

“Okay, Merry.”

“They won’t be ready fer another twenty minutes or so moind.”

“Alright, Merry, I got it.”

The door closed once more. I just managed to catch Merry’s expression as the daylight was cut off. I was in for it alright, and these two didn’t want to be anywhere near when the volcano blew. For a moment I felt like I was the only pony there, alone in the quiet of the hallway with only the ticking of the clock to remind me that somewhere, at some time, something had to be done. And for me, that time was now. Damn it all… I gathered my wits, gave my mane a quick fuss, and entered the lioness’s den.

I rounded the door. “Meadow? I’m-”

“Ah! Hark the conquering hero comes, eh?”

I took a step back in alarm. “Wha?!”

“Well come in, come in!” The white mare waved a hoof at me, her beaming smile making me feel as though I was drowning not only in a flood of confusion but a healthy dose of alarm for good measure. “Goodness me, are all stallions like this, dear?”

“I’m starting to wonder,” Meadow said watching me askance. “Scone?”

“Um...”

“You see what I mean?” the marshal exclaimed. “All the bloody same. Can’t make a decision and stick to it.” She rounded on me like some enraged bull, “Yes or no, stallion? Lively now!”

“I… Yes, Ma’am.” I cleared my throat. “Please.” Gratefully I took the scone that had miraculously already been buttered and had my favourite jam spread on it in just the right consistency. Meadow avoided eye contact with me as I took the plate in my magic and all but ended up hugging the thing as though it were a life raft in a raging sea.

“Sign up did you?” the white mare asked.

I nodded, “Yes, Ma’am.”

“And so you jolly well should too.” The marshal snorted surprisingly loudly, and at not all in the feminine manner I would have expected from a mare of the kind of breeding that she radiated like a bonfire. “I’ve brought my own brand of tea for your good lady wife, Fairlight,” the marshal continued. “Bloody expensive too in the mortal world, but I’ve managed to have one of the flowery tree hugging types to cultivate it in an arbo-wotsit. Bloody stupid names.”

“An arboretum?” I asked.

“That’s the fellow!” the marshal announced. She leaned towards Meadow with a cheeky smirk on her face. “Not as daft as he looks, is he?”

Meadow said nothing, instead staring into her tea.

“Um, Marshal Spoon?” I tried. The marshal looked at me and I felt my nerves shudder. “It’s a pleasure to have you in my home, and I-”

“Oh, don’t play silly beggars with me, Captain,” Marshal Spoon said waving a hoof. “You want to know why I’m here, yes?” I nodded in response as she continued, “I make a point of meeting the families of our new bods, and I was at a bit of a loose end today so I decided to make a pre-emptive strike so to speak.”

I’ll say she did. I hadn’t even signed on the dotted line and the batty old fruitloop was already here! But… wasn’t she supposedly dealing with something that had happened at the-

“Well? Struck dumb, stallion?”

I mentally shook myself and looked back at her. “I’m sorry?”

“I asked how you found your first day!” the marshal said with a exasperated cluck of her tongue. “I must say you’d better get your noggin checked again, it seems to have interfered with your lugs, stallion!”

“Yes, Ma’am,” I replied. “It was very… instructional.”

“Mmm!” The marshal put down her cup. “And so it should be.” She turned back to Meadow. “Now then, about those cakes...”

The conversation mercifully shifted away from me to Sparrow, then fashions, baking, and then… I sniffed… “Oh, hell, the cakes!” I jumped up and rushed to the kitchen on a mission to salvage the treats Merry had left in the oven. With no idea where the oven mitts were in Meadow’s nerve centre I snatched up the tray in my hooves instead us doing the sensible thing and using my magic - perhaps not the best course of action as it transpired. The tray slipped, sliding up my hoof and catching me on the leg “OW! Goddess damn it all!” Thankfully I managed to catch the damned thing with my magic before it dropped on the floor, which was probably the first thing I should have done of course, but my nerves were in such disarray I was surprised I hadn’t tried to take them out with my dumb face.

“Everything alright in here?” Marshal Spoon’s white muzzle appeared around the door frame. “Mmm! Something smells good!”

Meadow appeared beside her. “They’re fairy cakes, Sparrow’s favourite,” she said pleasantly. Now there was surprise. I’d thought iced fancies were Sparrow’s current obsession. Apparently I was a little behind the times on that too. She trotted up to the table and opened a cake tin. “Golden, would you like to take some with you? The ones Fairlight nearly dropped are too hot, but I’ve got some already piped,” Meadow said politely.

The white mare’s eyes lit up. “Are you sure?”

Meadow nodded, “Of course, I’ve made plenty.” She took out a cardboard box, deftly placing eight cakes inside which she tied with a neat little bow.

The marshal took them and placed the selection of goodies into her panniers. “Thank you my dear, you’re very kind. Next time I’ve got my baking head on I’ll make sure to get some of my famous lemon fancies sent over with your hubby.” She looked me right in the eyes and… and waggled her eyebrows at me! “See you at work tomorrow, dear.”

I was still stood staring out the door when Meadow reappeared. “She’s mad,” I muttered, “stark staring mad. I’m stuck in a world full of lunatics.” Ones who bake lemon cakes too apparently.

Meadow closed the door behind her and followed me into the lounge, flopping into the chair opposite me in front of the fire. It was a warm night and the fire hadn’t been lit, only adding to the cold sensation in my heart, and now silence too was bringing its own bitterness to the proceedings. Part of me wanted nothing more than to curl up and pretend none of this was happening, but somewhere inside my head that little voice was telling me it was going to be alright. Goddesses above, I prayed it was right. The green mare opposite me sat staring into the fireplace, her features shadowed by the lamplight of the normally cheerful little room. I didn’t know what to say. I’m sure there were ponies out there who would, and knew exactly the right prose that could defuse the dreadful feeling of tension in the air, and-

“Golden told me you’d signed up to help find souls and bring them to the herd.”

I tried to swallow, but my mouth was as dry as an old ashtray. Hell fire Fairlight, say something! I took a breath and steeled myself. “I did,” was all I could manage.

Meadow didn’t look up. “Dad...” she sighed. “He took you there didn’t he?”

I nodded, “Yeah...”

“Why didn’t you speak to me first?” Meadow’s voice was soft, almost a whisper, but there was no love there, none of the usual feminine gentleness I’d become so used to that I could almost hear my heart breaking as she said, “You could have waited until you’d spoken to me. Why didn’t you?”

I closed my eyes and tried to find the right words. “Pop took me there because he believed that giving me a purpose, a direction, would help me.”

There was an uncomfortable pause before she replied, “You could have told me this morning.”

“I would have only...” I bit back the words that included ‘washing’, ‘up’, and ‘water’. “...only we would have been late and… and I…” I sighed. There was no way to say it other than, “I was afraid of what you’d say. I was afraid you’d-”

“Try to stop you?” she answered. “Is that what you thought I’d do?”

“Meadow-”

“Don’t, Fairlight, please.” Meadow took a shaking breath, hiding a sniffle under her foreleg. “I don’t want to hear it.” She shivered noticeably. “I’m your wife, Fairlight. We’re supposed to share everything together. Everything. Doesn’t that mean something to you? Don’t our vows mean anything any more?”

No. Oh, no. Goddesses curse me, I’d done it again hadn’t I? I’d hurt my wife. AGAIN! Gritting my teeth, I did the only thing I could think of right then; to throw myself upon her mercy. “I’m a coward, Meadow,” I replied. “I know I should have spoken to you first. Of course I damned well do.” I squeezed my eyes shut and forced my fury at myself down as hard as I could. “You married a fool. And a coward.”

“If you think that, then what does that make me?” Meadow breathed. “I didn’t expect you to be perfect, Fairlight. I didn’t want you to be.” She slowly hung her head, holding her muzzle in her forehooves. “All I wanted was for you to be truthful with me. To be honest with me.”

“I’ve never lied to you,” I replied.

“No… but you don’t tell me everything, do you?”

I breathed deeply, letting my muscles loosen, trying to slow my racing heart. “I didn’t tell you about this, because I wasn’t sure myself.”

“But you signed up all the same.”

“I did,” I confessed.

Slowly, Meadow turned to face me, her eyes red from the tears I had caused her, the tears a thoughtless husband had inflicted upon his beloved wife through selfish cowardice. “I know what you want to do, and I know why. The marshal told me about other ponies who have… problems, like yours. She said that… she said they find comfort in helping others who are lost. She said it was a noble cause and that your experience and knowledge would be of great benefit to the eternal herd.” I kept quiet as she continued, “You know how I feel about the watch, Fairlight.”

“Love, this isn’t the watch.”

“I know,” Meadow sighed, “it’s worse. This is the army, Fairlight.” Her voice rose ever so slightly, the precursor of a coming storm. “Oh, they call it the ‘soul hunters’ or some such silly name, but it’s still what it is.”

“Meadow…

“You’ll be putting yourself in danger, Fairlight.” Meadow wiped her eyes once more, smearing the remains of the eyeshadow that had looked so lovely on her earlier across her cheeks. “You’ll… you’ll need to fight. Again.”

“I don’t see why,” I replied honestly, “we’re going out there to help ponies. Ponies who need us.”

“And what about me and Sparrow?” Meadow asked levelly. “Don’t we factor into your new adventure? Are you planning on leaving us here again? Alone?”

I shook my head, feeling a slight hint of irritation tremble through me. “This isn’t about leaving you, love. This is the job you wanted me to do, remember? You said that-”

“I said I wanted you to find a job!” Meadow suddenly snapped. Her mane bristled angrily. “You didn’t tell me you were going to enlist!”

“It’s not the same as the real army!” I replied quickly.

“Yes it is!” Meadow shifted round in her chair, brushing a stray hair from her tear stained muzzle. “Don’t you know what you’ve let yourself in for? Dear Celestia, Fairlight, mum’s told me about the things dad’s had to do and I didn’t dream he’d be so stupid as to subject himself to that sort of madness again, especially after what happened to him! And now, now you’re following the same insane path as him! Why? Good goddesses, why?”

“I’ve already said why,” I answered levelly. I was starting to feel a heat rising in my neck, travelling up to my cheeks. “We’re just going over the same thing again!”

“You don’t get it do you?” Meadow suddenly snapped. “Well? Do you?”

“Get what?” I asked irritably. “Meadow, I’ve taken a job to find souls, I’m not going off to war for goodness sake.”

“You could die, you idiot!”

“I...” I blinked. “What do mean?” And damn me if a foolish chuckle didn’t escape my lips. “I’m already dead, remember?”

Meadow shot out of her chair like a cork from a shaken bottle. Alarmed by the sudden flurry of movement, I backed away, succeeding only in ramming myself further into the settee cushions.

“Wha-?”

“You don’t know, do you?” Meadow’s voice was like icy daggers in my heart. “You really don’t know...” She paused, hung her head and leaned on the settee pressing her muzzle nearly into mine. “If you are killed in the herd, you are...” She gritted her teeth and took a breath. “You are reforged. Reborn. Reincarnated. Do you know what that means? Do you understand now?”

“But it’s not-” I stammered.

“I don’t want to lose you again!” Meadow suddenly spun away from me, leaning heavily against the back of the chair. “I can’t… Fairlight… please.”

I closed my eyes and nearly choked on my own words. “Well that’s it then, I’ll go back to the barracks in the morning and retract my enlistment. I’m sure there’s a cooling off period and-”

“There isn’t.”

“-and I’ll...” I looked up. “What? Of course there is! There must be.”

“Golden told me there wasn’t.” Meadow’s voice sounded lost. Hopeless. “It’s a soul binding contract between you and the herd. It… it cannot be broken except by permission of the royal family.”

“Then I’ll petition the palace and-”

“You think they’d listen?” Meadow asked, cutting in. “Do you know how many ponies that have even seen them, let alone spoken to them?”

“They’ll listen,” I replied calmly. “I’ll make them listen.”

Meadow gave an ironic snort. “You still think you’re a wendigo, don’t you?” She glanced at me over her shoulder. “You’re not, Fairlight. You’re just a pony. Like me, like Sparrow, like every other single equestrian here in the herd. You’ve no special magical power to frighten others into doing what you want any more.”

My heart leaped into my throat at her words. “Is that what you think, Meadow?” I asked. “Do you see me as a monster who bends others to his will through fear?”

“No!” Meadow shook her head. “No, I didn’t mean it like-”

It was my turn to interrupt, and for better or worse, anguish mingling with helpless despair gripped my heart as I asked, “Do you believe I am, was, a monster like they said? A… a demon?”

“No! Oh, Fairlight, no!” Meadow turned back to face me. “I never believed you were a monster.”

“But you think I made others do what I wanted through fear.”

“You’re twisting what I said,” she huffed.

“I don’t think so.” I slowly got up from the settee and gave myself a shake. “You may be right though, Meadow. Maybe once I did use fear to get my own way and bend others to my will. I was a monster. I killed ponies. I killed ponies I never even knew the names of, and do you know what?” The cold ball within me writhed. “I don’t regret what I did. I may feel pain for my actions, I may even feel sorrow for the loss of life at my hooves, but I don’t regret what I did. Or why.” I stood up tall and straight, looking at the open hallway door. “You married a stallion, Meadow, one who was forged into the monster I became. And perhaps...” I smiled, “Perhaps deep down inside I still am.”

Meadow’s hoof lifted and she paused. “Fairlight… don’t.”

“I’m sorry, Meadow.” I took a breath and looked her in the eyes. “I think I’d better go.”

“Go?” Meadow’s eyes went wide. “What do you mean, ‘go’? Go where?”

I shrugged, my dimwitted mind set. “I’m going to stay over at the barracks.”

“No you’re not!” Those two bright yellow lantern eyes blazed. “You’re not going out there now, it’s the middle of the night!”

“Mummy?” A tiny voice from an equally tiny grey muzzle drew our gaze. “I’m frightened! Why are you fighting?”

“We’re not, love, oh no… shush, there’s a good girl. Shhh...” Meadow leaned down and scooped up the sniffling foal.

“Mummy, I had a dream the monster was going to get me.” Sparrow’s words were like a dagger through my heart. “He’s not going to, is he?”

I lifted my hoof to brush her tiny mane, and my daughter, the brightest light in my life, flinched away as though I was going to strike her. I felt like I’d been branded. Pain seared through me, stinging my eyes and sending alternating waves of heat and bitter cold through me from muzzle to tail. “No,” I said quietly. “The monster’s going away now, love.” I floated down my hat and coat from the coat rack, carefully buttoning it up. For a moment I hesitated as I reached for the door... waiting. All I could hear was Sparrow’s sniffing and the slow tick-tock of the old grandfather clock.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

I think I must have heard as much as felt the moment my heart broke. Part of me screamed in the darkness, screamed at me for being a fool, for being the coward I’d always been.

The monster I’d always been.

********************

I didn’t see Pop the next morning. The barrack room I was in was empty except for a couple of guards who’d wandered in during the night after a few too many drinks at the bar. Apparently there were several barrack rooms at the depot, and the one I was in was where the discerning imbiber of the foamy brews on offer at the on-site tavern flopped their inebriated carcases rather than face an angry officer at morning roll call. Things were generally relaxed here from what I’d been able to make out so far, especially compared to what I knew of the royal army back in Equestria. But that ‘relaxed’ atmosphere only went so far, and I was awoken by an angry shout for one of my new bunkmates who had suddenly developed a new lease of life, barrelling out of the room at an impressive speed considering the state he’d been in last night. As for me, I hadn’t slept a wink. I was still furious over what had happened, mulling over events from yesterday over and over again in my mind. In truth I was angry, both with Meadow and, even more so, with myself. I’d really done it this time, and as much as I felt justified, at least in some measure, I couldn’t help hating myself for walking out on her.

“Mare trouble?”

I threw my coat over my back and paused. The voice had come from a coal black mare with a white stripe down her muzzle and a pink two-toned mane. She looked up from making her bed and treated me to a cheeky grin. Goddesses, I really couldn’t be bothered right then. “It doesn’t matter,” I said, and moved to leave.

“Want to talk?” The pegasus mare appeared beside me like a ghostly apparition, haunting my attempts at escape. “Or not?”

“I...” I closed my eyes and shook my mane. Talking to somepony else about my problems, especially relationship ones, was not something I did lightly, especially not to somepony I didn’t even know. Still, she was probably only being friendly. Or nosy. I shook myself and tried a smile. “I’m fine,” I said politely. “Thanks for asking though.”

“Hey, sure thing buddy.” The mare flapped her wings and resettled them by her sides. “Don’t let it eatcha up though, ‘kay?”

“Um, yeah. Sure,” I replied.

“You’re new, aren’t you?” A pair of vivid blue eyes peered inquisitively at me. “You that windy-go fella, then?”

Well so much for keeping that secret! I erred on the side of caution and shook my head, “No, just a plain old unicorn. Name’s Fa- Corn Bread.”

“Oh.” The mare raised an eyebrow appraisingly. “Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you Corny.” The mare’s eyes closed as she smiled broadly, “I’m Zip Line. Zippy to me mates.”

I looked down at the proffered hoof and, if a little uncertainly, reached out to shake it. “Guess I’m Corny then,” I said wearily.

“You said it!” The mare burst out laughing. “First day on the job?”

I adjusted my coat, brushing some lint off my chest. “Second. I’ve got to report to the training room and they’ll be assigning me to a partner, apparently.”

“Lucky them!” Zippy beamed. “Always nice to have a new bod about the place.” She eyed me up and down in a manner which I found altogether far too familiar. “And such a cute one too...”

“If you say so...” I gave her a polite nod. “Well, I’d better be-”

“I like you, Corny!” Zip Line chirped over me. “I think we’re going to be good friends, you and I!”

Oh gods! I gave her a nervous smile and turned for the door. “I’m afraid you’ll have to-”

“Here, don’t worry about that. I’ll show you the way!” The peculiar pegasus lifted off the ground with a lightness of effort that I’d never quite gotten used to even after watching Sparrow do it so many times. I opened my mouth to explain that I knew the way and that I was quite capable of finding it myself, thank you very much, but the chatty was way ahead of me already. “Come on,” she called, “hustle that bustle Mister Corny!”

I rolled my eyes in exasperation, but secretly I felt my spirits, so deflated last night, lift almost as easily as the winged pony defied gravity. A quick shake and a huff and I was out the door following my new self-appointed friend.

Zip Line floated ahead of me, looking back every so often to make sure I was keeping up. “Shame you aint one of those windy-wotsits,” she said happily. “I’d have liked to have met another of ‘em.”

“You’ve met oth- I mean, you’ve met wendigo before?” I asked.

“Sure!” Zip Line called back, “Had a bunch of ‘em through a little while ago. All looked the same too, you know. Only way you could tell them apart was their cutie marks, and their bits. If you know what I mean.”

“Bits? Oh...” My Lewd friend shot me a smirk as I realised what she meant. Suddenly the implication of the rest of what she’d said began to sink in. “Hang on, what do you mean ‘a little while ago’?” I asked in surprise.

“I dunno,” Zip Line shrugged dismissively. “They came in the usual way: dead. Popped into the herd same as the rest of us and went their own merry way.”

My heart jumped into my throat. Surely Zip Line was mistaken? The wendigo had been extinct in Equestria for over a thousand years, and even the distant relations of that tribe were now little more than plain old unicorns who just happened to bear the grey coat, black manes, and yellow eyes of their ancestors. Good grief, with my brown eyes I was far from a thoroughbred myself. I’d always believed I was the only one that had had the spirit bonded to me and that in itself had been through some freak, and very brutal, accident. It sure as hell hadn’t been voluntary. Even Maroc hadn’t said anything about… But he had, hadn’t he? Something about a tribe in the north? My ears pricked up, hopeful for more information.

“Are there any here?” I asked.

“What, in the soul hunters?” Zip Line barked out a laugh. “Why, not likely!”

I quickened my pace to keep up with the flighty creature, “Why not? They’re just ponies like us, aren’t they?”

“Ha! Shows how much you know, Corny.” Zip Line rounded the next corner and was waiting for me as I nearly ran right into her. “They’re monsters, you know.” She opened her mouth, displaying her perfect white teeth. “They can change like morning mist, disappearing like ghosts if you even so much as catch a fleeting glimpse of one with your bare eyes.” She leaned closer. “They say their lonely cries still echo in the mountains, mourning their lost home and luring weary travellers into their snowy realm.” She lowered her voice to a near whisper. “They sing the song of winters passed, lulling you into a dream like trance, calling out to the young, tender and fair. And then, when they have you...”

I swallowed, thoroughly absorbed by her story. “Yes?”

Zip Line watched me, running her tongue over her teeth. “They suck the soul from your body and feast on your still warm flesh, sucking the marrow from your bones and turn your hide into winter overcoats.”

I suddenly snorted out an involuntary laugh. “What a load of bollocks!”

“Oh?” The black and white mare looked a little hurt. “And what do you know about them then, Mister ‘just a unicorn’ eh?”

“Well, not much exactly.” I rallied myself and stood up straight. “Anyway, at least I know that was just an old fairy tale told to frighten naughty children. ‘Behave or the wendigo will get you’. That sort of thing.”

“Yeah,” Zip Line shrugged. She grinned mischievously, “Works though. Bet I had you going there for a minute!”

I rolled my eyes, “Yeah...” We started walking again. Or rather I did and my companion just drifted along lazily with her silently flapping wings. “So, what did happen to the wendigo who came here?” I asked.

“Dunno, but they sure don’t live here,” came the reply.

“Do you mean in the barracks or in the herd?” I pressed.

Zip Line clucked her tongue, “Will you stop asking me about those bloody windy-things, Corny?” She huffed loudly and floated back down to the ground. “All I know is that they came into the herd and probably went off to where those weird bone-bags live. That’s where a lot of ‘em went anyways. Those that didn’t take the walk that is.” She jerked her head, indicating a doorway. “We’re here. Let’s get tooled up and smartened up before one of the spit and polish brigade catch us waffling.”

The two of us were the only ones in the locker room this morning, which to be honest suited me just fine. The last thing I needed right then was dealing with testy mares, especially after my rough nights sleep. It was a very plain room looking for the most part, typically bland and functional with no more than benches, coat hooks, and long rows of lockers which, in typical military fashion, were all clearly numbered. Mine was just like all the rest and had barely enough space for the equipment you were issued with and no more. I put on my overcoat and cloak, fixed my belt in place, and clipped on the neat little dagger which was about as much use as a fruit knife, and threw on my panniers. As simple as my gear went however it was still very well tailored and, I have to admit, really did look smart compared to my old watch uniform. A few tugs and pulls here and there and we were good to go. Thankfully armour and weapons were left in the depot armoury under lock and key until needed so we didn’t need to faff about with that just yet thank goodness. It was probably a needless precaution anyway, but military traditions ran deep with the armed forces, and who was I to argue? In some ways I was as much a part of the traditions of my people as the rest of them. The fact I had been in the watch rather than the army meant little here, it was still an institution as old as the hills – more so in some respects. Beside me the black and white pegasus continued in a world of her own when a thought crossed my mind, one that Meadow had planted there last night.

“Zippy?” I asked.

“Yeah?”

“Am I likely to see much fighting in the soul hunters?”

She paused in adjusting her panniers and looked at me as though I’d asked if the sky was made of chocolate. “Fighting?” she shrugged. “Some, yeah. Not much though. Why, don’t tell me you didn’t know?”

“It hasn’t been mentioned,” I said honestly. “I know we have combat training and so on, but I thought that was more down to tradition than anything else.”

Zip line chuckled, “Afraid of a few boo-boos are we?”

“Hardly.” I huffed under my breath and stood before her. “Good?”

The black mare smiled, “Sharp as a pin, Corny. Me?”

“Looks good,” I replied truthfully.

She reached out, and to my surprise deftly removed my dagger and turned it around before putting it back in its scabbard. “Sun emblem to the outside,” she corrected. “Get that wrong and you’ll be for a right old time with the gaffer. Takes things like that seriously she does.”

“Handy to know.” I nodded my thanks, checking the way the dagger looked in its scabbard and committing it to memory. “I’m glad you were here. The last thing I need’s to get myself in hot water when I’ve barely walked in the door.”

“Nah, don’t mention it.” Zip Line brushed aside my compliment with a wave of her hoof. “That old sod in stores does it deliberately for a cheap laugh.” She gave me a knowing wink. “Tried it with me when I was new and I got it right in the neck from the last commander. The new one’s just as bad when it comes to being all buffed up and ‘army fashion’ too. Must be catching.”

“The marshal?” I asked. “She seems a game old bird.”

“Ha! Don’t let her hear you say that!” Zip Line chuckled before checking her feathers were all neatly preened. “Anyway, don’t worry about any fighting. It’s unusual, but it’s better to be prepared than be caught with your proverbials hanging down.”

I felt a blush come to my cheeks.

“Aw! And he blushes so quickly too!” Zip Line gave me a flick of her tail as she walked past me to the door. “Come on then Corny, let’s see what we’ve got on the board for today.”

“Are we on the same relief?” I asked, following her out.

The pegasus smirked, “Let’s just see first, eh?”

The briefing room was a short distance from the barracks and a few of the stallions and mares of the early morning relief were already sitting behind their small desks. Some paper and pencils had rather thoughtfully been left out for us and we took our seats beside each other. The room was neatly painted, white of course, with a blackboard at one end and a few flower vases – a nice touch that added a more homely feel, if such a thing was possible in a military base. Here and there motivational posters had been placed proclaiming the reader needed to be ‘Vigilant. Respectful. Dutiful’ and show ‘Empathy. Kindness. Understanding’. They each showed a somewhat stylised picture of a white stallion in barding with the usual blue eyes that were synonymous with the royal guard. Of course finding a white pony with blue hair and blue eyes was a rarity in the riot of colour that was the norm in Equestrian society, but some clever clogs in the dim and distant past had sorted that problem out by the simple expedient of imbuing the helmets with magic that changed your colour so you all looked the same as the rest of the gang. There were divisional changes of course: unicorns tended to be grey and pegasi often had lightweight armour to afford them greater freedom of movement, but we all had one thing in common – we all did as we were told. Maybe this was what Pop was talking about: order, duty, and all that other good stuff that came with a soldier’s lot. Still, soldiering wasn’t exactly what I’d intended when I’d signed up. Apple Pop had assured me that it was more like the watch than the army, but personally I still had my doubts. That said he’d joined up himself after arriving in the herd hadn’t he? And if it was such a dangerous occupation then how come Meringue didn’t seem to mind? Or maybe she did and just didn’t say anything? Goddesses, what the bloody hell did I know about the ways of mares anyway? Nothing! Well, next to nothing at any rate.

“Pssst.”

“Huh?” I looked up.

The black pegasus was staring right at me. “What’s with the long face?”

I raised an eyebrow. “I was born with it,” I said sounding a little more sarcastic than I intended.

“Not that, you idiot!” Zip Line rolled her eyes. “You look like you’re spacing out. You okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine,” I replied. I closed my eyes and took a breath. “Fine. Honestly.”

My new friend leaned over to me. The way she did it almost made me burst out laughing; it was just like being back in primary school when we would whisper or pass secret notes to one another. Zip Line’s eyes however were full of apparently genuine concern. “Look, don’t worry about her,” she assured me. “She’ll come round. You’ll see.”

“How-?” I babbled.

“It’s written all over your face,” the pegasus mare observed casually. “Happens to a lot of us, Corny, especially at first.” She sat back in her chair and nodded to herself, “Things often work themselves out in the end.”

Hmph! I hope she was right. Things at home were not good to say the least, especially after I’d walked out after having a row. Sweet Celestia, could I have made any more of an arse of myself? Meadow was normally forgiving of my personality flaws, and not so infrequent cock-ups too for that matter, but last night felt… different, like I’d crossed some invisible line which she could see all too clearly, unlike her numb brained husband. I gave myself a quick shake and tried to push the intrusively depressing thoughts to the back of my mind. This, this here today, was going to help all of that. I was going to be a watchstallion again. Well, of a sort I suppose. But regardless of what my job title was, it was what I was going to do that was important. I was going to have a purpose again. I was going to help ponies. And that thought alone, above everything else, felt like a tiny ray of sunshine breaking through the storm clouds of negativity that had harangued me ever since I’d died. Well, whatever Fate had in store for me I was determined to do whatever it took to fit in here and do my best. Part of that was, naturally, making friends. As much I was something of an antisocial creature at heart I still enjoyed the company of others. Zip Line was a good start of course, and I’d already become relatively friendly with Argo and Tamis too. Okay, maybe not so pally with Tamis since we’d half killed each other in the arena, but friendships had been forged in worse situations than that. My ears suddenly pricked up at the sound of approaching hoof steps.

In front of us a large stallion walked in, a pair of spectacles perched on his muzzle and sporting a pair of bulging panniers. He was in undress uniform but still carried that unmistakable air of an officer about him. In keeping with tradition in that respect he all but ignored us as he prepared his paperwork on the desk before him. He was a well built deep green stallion with a short mane and tail of black hair. His eyes were that metallic bronze colour that I’d always been a little envious of, especially the way the mares had gone all gooey over them back home when that celebrity turned up that time. What was his name now? Celery something… Celery Stalk? Yeah, that was it. I wonder what happened to him. Whoever he was, the alluring eyes meant nothing to my companion who was busy picking at something in her teeth with a toothpick.

Eventually the officer up front turned to eye the clock before returning to his desk. “Ahem!” The rest of the room’s occupants, myself included, sat upright respectfully. He cast his eyes across us and paused on me, nodding to himself. Well now, that didn’t bode well! Unless he was just spotting the new guy of course. “Today’s briefing started at… oh-eight-hundred.” He spoke partly to us and partly to a brass device I spotted in front of him that was half obscured by the paperwork. “Following on from the incident at the fountain festival, senior officers and section commanders are to report for a team leaders briefing at oh-nine-hundred. Junior officers will be informed in due course of any extra-ordinary orders which are to be disseminated to their commands as necessary. I’m certain I don’t need to remind you all of the seriousness of this incident and request both your discretion and patience in this trying time.” The stallion turned over one of his sheets of paper and scratched his chin as he peered at it. “I understand we have a new officer with us today.” He lifted a hoof and motioned to me, at which I stood up and tried to look cool, calm and professional as everypony in the room turned to look at the newcomer. “Captain… ‘Corn Bread’, late of the Equestrian Watch. I’m sure you’ll all join me in welcoming him to our little herd.” I nodded and sat down with no small amount of relief. “In respect to our new colleague,” he continued, “you have been assigned to… let’s see… ah, here it is. You are to be partnered with Flight Captain Zip Line until further notice.” He motioned to the black mare beside me. “Flight Captain, you are to report to Lieutenant Argo with your report after today’s mission. Full mission details are in your packs.” He floated over two yellow envelopes to us in an impressive display of magic. “I know this is a bit of a trial by fire for you, Captain Bread, but with your previous experience I don’t think you’ll have any trouble handling it.” He frowned in thought for a moment, shuffling yet more paperwork. “Hmm… Since the rest of the briefing doesn’t concern you two, I suggest you go off to the break room and use that time to familiarise yourself with the mission particulars.” He checked the clock once more. “Don’t forget your scheduled portal access time is oh-ten-hundred hours. You are dismissed.”

Zip Line and I stood, saluted, and trotted out of the briefing room. “Ha! That was quick!” the black and white mare chuckled. “I should have volunteered to look after newbies sooner.”

“Not a fan of briefings either?” I asked, sharing in her relief at an early escape.

She shrugged, “Briefings, meetings, crowds of dull stiffs droning on at you for hours when it could have done in minutes? Boring stuff in general really. You get the idea.”

I did. “Can I ask: was it a coincidence that you were sleeping in the empty barrack room when I was there?”

“Wow!” Zip Line’s eye went wide. “Suspicious mind you’ve got there, Corny. Strewth!”

“Suspicious?” I asked ironically. “Not really. More cynical than anything else to be honest.”

Zip Line gave me a wry smile as we continued to walk on. “Ah, cynics. The world’s driest humorists.”

“More realism than humour,” I replied. “So, am I on the money?”

The black mare floated down to the ground and knocked on a plain looking door. “Now that would be telling tales, wouldn’t it?” She poked her head through the gap and pushed the door open fully. “Spot on, there’s nopony in here. Come on, let’s get comfy.”

“This doesn’t look like the break room,” I observed.

Zip Line closed the door behind me. “That’s because it isn’t,” she said simply. “Ruby is off on her hols and told me I could use it when I wanted a bit of peace and quiet. ‘Course, that doesn’t stop others pinching it too, but looks like we’re in luck. Grab a seat and let’s see what we’ve got on for today.”

I had to admit it was a lot more comfortable than the break room, and I sank into the well padded chair as together we opened our briefing envelopes to look over the details of our mission. To my surprise however there was precious little compared to what I’d been used to in the watch. Rather than the reams of information on the target, their background, offence details and location, all we had was some basic information on ‘who’ and ‘where’. At least we had a photograph of our errant soul: a faded orange coated earth stallion with a grey mane, equally grey beard, and a cutie mark of a watering can who went by the name of ‘Hedgerow’. I certainly didn’t recognise him or his name. He was ‘overdue’ according to the briefing by two days, and the cause was simply noted as ‘unknown’. Very helpful…

“Looks nice and easy,” Zip Line noted. “Old fella, natural causes and all that.”

“Hmm...” I checked the envelope in case I’d missed anything. “Precious little intel. Says he’s in Polston Retirement Resort in Foal Falls.” I shrugged. “Never heard of it.”

“It’s south of the Unicorn Range,” my companion replied helpfully. “I used to fly trials over there back in the day.”

“Big place?” I asked.

Zip Line shook her head. “Nah, fly speck of a place. Least, it used to be. The retirement resort must have been built after I’d popped me clogs ‘cos I don’t remember it.” She looked at the briefing paper and shrugged. “Lovely views there, and you didn’t need wings to see for miles either.”

“Maybe he liked it so much he didn’t want to leave,” I suggested.

Zip Line nodded, “As good a reason as any I guess.” She closed the thin card file, put it back in the envelope and slipped it into her pannier. “I think we have all we need. Let’s go and grab our gear and we’ll be on our way. No sense in hanging around longer than we have to.”

“Do we need any gear for this?” I asked. “Swords and barding are bit pointless aren’t they?”

My companion snorted as she opened the door. “I wouldn’t say that. Trust me, you don’t know what’s out there and it’s better to be safe than sorry. Besides, ponies like the whole glitz and glam of the eternal herd coming to collect them.”

“I was never one for ‘glitzy’,” I said with a smirk. “Trenchcoat, hat, and my dad’s old truncheon did the job well enough.”

“We’re not wearing the armour for fun, Corny.” She gave me a wink. “Nope, every one of our little trips out is a full armour jobby I’m afraid. Say, we’ll pop into the canteen on the way to the armoury, eh? I’m famished.”

And so with a freshly sandwich filled mare, we arrived at the armoury and signed out our armour, swords, and other assorted oddments which came with the whole soul hunter package. It was then that I remembered just how much I hated wearing helmets. At least this thing didn’t have a visor which was one of the aspects of the watch’s personal protective gear which I found the most uncomfortable. This one, clean and neatly padded, sat just nicely on my head and I looked back at Zip Line who smiled approvingly.

“Looking good there, Cap’n Bread.”

I felt a twinge inside. Goddesses, how I hated that name! Why hadn’t I come up with something better, something… cool. Sadly, ‘Corn Bread’ was it. At least for now. Many of the ponies in the guard used different names to their given one, and I suspected Zip Line knew full well I wasn’t who I said I was. Still, it didn’t phase her in the slightest and I had the disturbing thought she actually liked calling me ‘Corny’. At least it was better than ‘Captain Bread’ for goodness sake. The strangest part of all of this however was the colour change. As I’ve already mentioned, the armour comes with a hidden magical secret: you turn white. And not just plain old white either. No, you positively glowed! It reminded me of one of those advertising posters for washing powder that never quite lived up to expectations. Meadow was constantly complaining about removing grass stains from my clothes and not even the magic of the herd was able to live up to her exacting standards. But this… this was like when I changed, when I really changed, to my wendigo form. At least in some respects. My eyes reflected in Zip Line’s burnished armour were as blue as the ocean; a far cry from the burning blue fires of my alternative self. My hooves too were simply plain old hooves, not the crystalline hooves of the wendigo. My mane was about the same colour though, and my tail too for that matter, but the mist that used to wreath my legs, the feeling of unbridled power and the confidence that came with it… was gone.

I sighed and nodded to Zip Line, “Ready for off?”

She smiled back at me, “Uh-huh. We’re a bit early but I’ll work my charm on the chief and we’ll be on our way in two shakes of a manticore’s tail.”

“Now there’s something I don’t want to do!” I quipped. “Bloody things are lethal.”

“Been up against one?” Zip Line asked as we walked away from the armoury.

I shrugged. “Once.”

“Really?” She seemed intrigued. “How did you deal with it?”

“I used magic,” I said casually. “Magic and guns.”

“Guns?” Zip Line frowned in thought for a moment before letting out a derisive nicker. “Ah… those things. I don’t hold with using ‘alien’ weaponry.”

I had to chuckle. The thought of them being ‘alien’ had never really occurred to me. Probably
because I’d seen so many of the things that had been seized by the watch or converted for Equestrian use by the agency and then used by our own security forces against the changelings. I suppose they were technically alien, if you wanted to use that sort of terminology of course, but the fact remained that for better or worse we were stuck with them. Anyway, the agency had developed their own magically operated beam weapons around the same time the human made things had been smuggled in through the portals to our world, so I hardly think we could claim the moral high ground on this one. After what I’d done… what we’d done, the lethal things had helped save Equestria from a changeling invasion. They certainly had their uses.

“Oi, cloth ears!”

“Eh? Oh, sorry Zippy I was miles away,” I apologised.

Zip line treated me to an overly exaggerated groan complete with rolling eyes. “I said you won’t find anything like that here.”

“Oh?” I replied. “Well, considering how medieval the herd looks I can hardly say I’m surprised. They’re one step away from using sticks and rocks.”

“Medieval?!” Zip Line gasped, “How in Equestria did you come to that conclusion?”

“We’re still using spears and swords!” I laughed. “It’s hardly what you’d call ‘advanced’ is it?”

The pegasus mare snorted angrily, apparently unimpressed by my assessment of her home. “Look here, just because you come from a time when some smart arse realised that stuffing coal into a burner beneath a kettle of water makes steam, I’d hardly expect you to understand now, would I?” she huffed.

“Oh, come on!” I retorted. “Civilisations advance whether we like it or not. Personally I’m not averse to embracing anything that makes life easier for ponies, like trains, steam ships, air ships and the like.” I raised an eyebrow. “Or making a cup of tea.” I jabbed a hoof at her. “And I don’t think kettles are exactly what you’d call a modern invention anyway. Or tea leaves for that matter.”

“That’s not the point,” Zip Line snapped. “You’re being deliberately obtuse.”

“I am not!” I protested. “I have nothing against living in medieval times. Even if they do have ice cream shops.”

“Ice cream…?” Zip Line stopped and leaned against the wall in a fluster. “Damn it all! I was supposed to meet one of the girls for an ice cream and a coffee last night! I completely forgot.”

“You could always re-arrange,” I suggested.

Zip Line nodded solemnly. “I guess so, but I just left her there. Celestia’s buttocks, she’ll think I stood her up.”

“It was a date?” I asked in amazement. “And you forgot?”

“Yes! No! I mean, it wasn’t a date, we’re just old friends and… and… oh, forget it!” She picked herself up and trotted off along the corridor again, muttering to herself something about ‘bloody newbies’ by the sounds of it. Something told me I’d stepped into a very big pile of dung on this one, so I quickly decided on a change of subject.

“Hey Zippy, how did you end up here then?” I asked.

“Like asking questions dontcha?” The black, now white, mare glanced back at me with a distinct look of irritation on her face. “You do know it’s considered rude to ask, right?”

I grinned cheekily, “Yeah, but I doubt anything I say could ruffle your feathers.” Zip Line face hoofed and groaned as I continued unabashed. “Anyway, since you don’t seem to like modern stuff, I’m guessing you’ve been here a while?”

“You could say that,” she said levelly.

I smiled, “And?”

Suddenly she stopped dead and turned to face me, her darkening expression causing me to take a step back in surprise. “Look newbie, I don’t mind answering your questions,” Zip Line hissed. “Really. But there are some things I don’t like to talk about, and that is one of them.”

I took a breath and bobbed my head. “Understood, Boss.”

“And don’t call me ‘Boss’ either!” She shook her head and sighed. “Look, just… Zippy will do, okay? And… and I’m sorry I snapped at you, Corny. I’m just angry with myself over last night is all.”

“And I’m sorry I asked personal questions when we’ve only just met.” I bowed before her. “You have my apologies, ma’am.”

“Or ‘ma’am’!” Zip Line turned away and motioned me to follow her. “I don’t like ‘ma’am’, Lieutenant, or any of that official bollocks. I’m just Zip Line or Zippy, okay?”

“Gotcha.”

We walked on for a while until turning a corner and entered another corridor that ended in a room flanked by two guards. They were especially large characters too, and looked like they knew all too well how to handle the wickedly sharp weapons they were holding. Zip Line walked towards them as though it were the most normal thing in the world.

“Mornin’ boys. You doin’ okay?” Zip Line asked.

One of the guards snorted so loudly I felt the vibration even through my armour. “Yeah,” was all he bothered to say in response. As for the other fellow, he merely gave a single nod. Gods, what a pair! We were about to pass them when, as one, their spears shot out to bar our entry to the room beyond.

“Halt! Papers.” The one the left creaked his head to lock onto me. “I don’t know you.”

“Easy, Bog,” Zip Line casually answered, fishing in her pannier for a slip of paper. “He’s the new boy, Cap’n Corny.”

“Corny?” the huge guard intoned.

I lifted my hoof to the giant beast. “It’s Corn Bread actually. Captain Corn Bread.”

“Nah, ‘Corny’ will do,” Zip Line muttered, putting the paperwork back into her pack. “Corny, meet Bog and Brush.”

“Bog and…?!” I nearly choked. “Um, nice to meet you.” I nodded respectfully to them each in turn. “Bog. Brush.”

The two giants nodded in tandem. Surprisingly the enormously muscled mountains didn’t send down showers of plaster on me from their near tectonic movement. I decided to merely smile and hurried after my cheeky colleague. I caught up with her a moment later.

“You can’t be serious,” I said peeking back over my shoulder towards the doorway. “Bog and Brush?”

“Sure. Peat Bog and Brush Strokes.” The mare’s brow furrowed curiously. “What, you thought I was making a joke or something?”

“No, but somepony is,” I observed drily.

“Oh?”

“Oh, don’t play games, Zippy,” I said. “You know as well as I do that some comedian put those two big buggers together for a cheap laugh. I mean, seriously: Bog brush?”

“Bog brush?” Zip Line thought for a moment and shrugged it off. “Nope. Can’t see it myself.”

“And neither can they, apparently,” I observed.

“So long as they clean up after themselves, who cares?” Zip Line stopped and yawned. “What’s up, you’re looking a little flushed there, Corny. Maybe you need to see the doctor. You know, I’m sure he’ll have something for constipation.”

“Very funny!” I replied sarcastically. “You’re an absolute riot.”

“I rather thought so,” the mare giggled.

My mane bristled. “You rotten sod! So it was you who posted them there?”

“Nah, not me.” Zip Line gave her ear a scratch and knocked on the door before us. “Those two asked to be posted together.”

“They… they asked for it?!” I gasped in amazement.

“Not that surprising really.” Zip Line nodded to the pony opening the door and whispered over her shoulder to me, “They’re brothers.”

I couldn’t believe it. “Well I bet their parents had a good laugh when they named them,” I said. “Bloody hell, can you imagine being at school with those names? They’d have been put through hell.”

“Didn’t stop them growing up to be as big as they are,” Zip Line observed. “Besides, they’re a hit with the girls, and stallions we can rely on when we need some proper muscle.”

I could believe it too. Those two could crush a pony’s skull with little more than sneeze by the looks of them, and I didn’t doubt for one moment that any school child who had suicidally decided to point out their amusing names would likely have been on the receiving end of hoof shaped retribution in very short order. I shook the thought from my mind and took in the sights around us. We had entered a large round hall that was well lit with lamps, and sitting centrally surrounded my chairs and a set of glowing arcane equipment, was what I expected to be here. It was a portal. The damned things never boded well for me and as much as they were a necessity to my new role, I sure as hell didn’t relish the thought of going through one again.

I stared up at the empty archway, its cold white blocks of stone surrounded by nothing but empty space. Despite its seemingly innocuous appearance, everything about it screamed to the observer that this was a doorway, a portal to somewhere ‘else’ that currently was nothing more than the other side of the room. The structure itself was perched upon a circular pedestal, accessible via several steps with the overall effect of drawing the eye and focussing all attention on that ominous… nothingness. Zip Line had left me there whilst she trotted over to join several white overcoat wearing technicians who were standing around what appeared to be some sort of control system. The portals I had used up until this point had been locked into one destination alone. This one however, from what information I’d been able glean thus far at least, was what was known as a ‘master portal’. What its limits were was anyponies guess, and was something that filled me with both awe and no small amount of trepidation. Maybe it was just as well that the things were a rarity in Equestria. Most of them had been destroyed long ago, or otherwise simply forgotten about over the millennia. Unfortunately some enterprising soul had actually managed to rediscover the magical formulae to construct them once again, and that had ultimately lead to the discovery of the human world and all the inherent nightmares that had been unleashed upon an unsuspecting public, all in the name of lining some scum bags pockets. The two behind it all were still out there as far as I knew: the commissioner of the watch, and her puppet. What was his name again? Crimson… something. Velvet? I think that was it. Damn it all, I was still having trouble with my memory even now. In fairness though I’d noticed I’d actually been able to recall a lot more recently, but all too often no sooner had I remembered something than it slipped away again into the mental fog that had been my constant companion since I’d arrived in the herd. Maybe Pop’s idea really did have its merits after all.

Standby… Standby...

“I’d look away if I were you.” Zip Line appeared beside me complete with a beaming grin. “We’re up next.”

My horn began to itch as the magic in the room rose in both intensity and sound. It started as a low hum, deep and resonating, as much felt as it was heard. I closed my eyes as an intense silver flash filled the room, quickly distilling back into the now familiar silver pool that hung impossibly in the air, filling the archway. One of the weirdest parts of this though was the reflection. In a manner of speaking you actually walked ‘into’ yourself, rather like approaching a full-length mirror, but there was nothing solid about this image. One moment you were in the world you knew, and the next-

“Wait!”

A voice rang out across the room, full of authority and carrying a peculiar wheedling tinge that reminded me of something… something, or some pony from…

“What the hell is this?!” An armoured stallion marched in with two others, all three of them fully kitted up and radiating indignation like a hot night in a Manehattan brothel. “We’re scheduled for the next portal alignment in five minutes. Who are these two, and why have they taken our slot? Well? Speak!”

One of the technicians looked nervously at his clipboard, holding it to his chest like a shield. “Lieutenant Zip Line’s team are early and, er… since you weren’t here we thought-”

“You’d sneak them in ahead of us?” the armoured stallion bristled. “You had no right to do that! It is against protocol and damned ignorant, do you hear me? I could have you reported for this!”

Zip Line gave me a nudge, “Come on, let’s sneak away while he’s going at it.”

I stood my ground. Why, I don’t know, but there was something about this guy, something I didn’t like at all, and the way he was leaning towards the technician had my neck quivering. Before I knew it I was staring at the irate stallion eye to eye.

“You! Who the hell are you?” The stallion took a step towards me. “Well? Name and rank!”

“Corn Bread,” I replied calmly. “Captain Corn Bread.”

“Ha! Never heard of...” He suddenly grinned knowingly. “Ah, yes, the new meat. Trying to flex your muscles are you?” The stallion shook his mane and jabbed a hoof at me. “Well let me tell you something, new boy: you’d better learn your place here, and quickly. It doesn’t matter who you are, or who you were when you were alive. You may have been some big noise back in the mortal realm, but here that means absolutely nothing. Here you obey orders. Here you do as you are damned well told, and that means you follow established protocol at all times!”

“Like only arriving five minutes before your scheduled appointment you mean?” I raised an eyebrow and felt a smirk curling my lip. “I was always told that arriving anywhere less than ten minutes early is as good as being late.” I tapped my lip, frowning in thought. “Oh, and that it’s also considered rude to rebuke somepony before you’ve even introduced yourself.”

“Why you damned insolent…!” The stallion face flushed an impressive shade of red. “I don’t have to introduce myself to some lowly maggot of a recruit unless I deem it necessary!”

“Why? Do I outrank you or something?” I asked with a smile.

“Silence! I’ve had enough of this nonsense.” The newcomer switched his attention to Zip Line. “Get on with your duties Lieutenant, and take this obnoxious wretch with you.” His brow drew down in the kind of knowing sneer I’d come to recognise from bullies. “I can assure you I will be reporting this, Lieutenant. And as for you, ‘Captain’, I caution you to watch how you speak to officers of the guard in future or you may find your new position your ex-position sooner than you think.”

I said nothing, leaving the irate stallion with only my sarcastic smirk. I’d had my fill of arseholes like this officer in the mortal world, and I would be damned if I’d take any more of their crap now that I was dead. Anyway, stuff him. One derisive sniff later and I was past the open mouthed Zip Line, walking towards the waiting pool of silver and wherever the mysterious magic of this place would take me. It was time, once again, to trip the light fantastic.

Chapter Six - Back on the Other Side

CHAPTER SIX

BACK ON THE OTHER SIDE

One of the things I remembered all too clearly about portal travel was the horrible lurching effect it had on both your mind and your body when you were spewed out the other side. If asked to describe the experience I would have to say that if you could imagine finding yourself unexpectedly weightless and then suddenly having gravity come back abruptly, plunging you back down to earth at the same moment your mind is trying to catch up with what your stomach’s doing, then you would have a reasonable idea of what a real treat this was. Portal jumps of the kind I had made before were nothing compared to this, except maybe with the exception of the jump to the human world. That one had been like being turned inside out and then being shoved back together by somepony who didn’t know where all your organs were supposed to go. Maybe it was the length of time it had been since I’d been through a portal, or an effect of the master portal itself, but whatever it was I emptied the contents of my stomach in an impressive stream that had poor Zip Line jumping for cover.

“Hey! Watch it!”

“Sorry,” I breathed, spitting the bile from my mouth. I took a swig from my canteen and spat it out. “Damn, I hate portals. I really hate portals.”

“Not used to them, eh?” Zip Line clucked her tongue as she gave herself a shake. “I ‘spose I should have warned you, but y’know, you get used to it.”

“Goddesses almighty...” I reached up and rubbed my horn. “That crap really messes with your magic.”

Zip Line shrugged, “If you say so.” Wind whipped through the mare’s mane, making her feathers flutter and her cloak whip round like a loose sail. “Bugger this, let’s get our flanks into cover and get our bearings, Corny.”

She didn’t have to tell me twice. We’d barely begun to run when the rain hit with all the subtlety of a bucket to the face. It was quickly becoming nigh on impossible to see much at all without having your eyes half shut just to try to keep the water out, even as the wind managed to force it into every conceivable place, cloaks or no cloaks. Just to make matters worse, the sun was dipping behind the mountains and creating shadows that made navigating this unfamiliar terrain an absolute nightmare. It was early evening according to the briefing papers, somewhere around seven o’clock, but with the heavy cloud cover it could have been midnight for all the difference it made. And it was cold too. Not normally bothered by low temperatures I was surprised by how much I had changed of late. I was shivering, my teeth chattering so much that I had to watch I didn’t bite my tongue by accident as I dove for cover after my nimble comrade into the shelter of a rickety looking hay barn. Zip Line didn’t exactly look happy either and fussed with her wings, shaking off the water.

“Blast it!” she snorted, glowering at her legs. “Look at the state of me! It’s going to take ages to get all this mud off.”

“Wind, rain, and muddy legs. Just another glorious day in the corps,” I quipped.

The mare huffed and looked at me askance. “I don’t know what you’re looking so cheerful about. You’ll have to wipe all that crap off yourself too when we get back you know.” She frowned. “Anyway, what the hell were you playing at back there? Are you trying to get us into bother? Damn it, Corny, don’t you know who that was?”

“Buggered if I know,” I said. I gave my cloak a squeeze and managed to get at least some of the water out. “Don’t care either. He didn’t bother to introduce himself so sod him, the pretentious arse.” I couldn’t abide ponies like that and unfortunately they tended to bring out the worst in me too.

“I’m not surprised he didn’t, he’s...” Zip Line sighed, “Damn it. Look, I can’t blame you, Corny. You’ve probably never heard of Thalio before anyway.”

“Thalio...” I murmured.

“Yeah.” My partner took out her briefing report and a small map as she continued, “He was busted down a few years back after a high profile job went wrong. Thalio used to be an alicorn but after that debacle the palace had his powers stripped and he was dropped back to being just a plain old unicorn once again.” She held up a hoof. “Um, no offence.”

“None taken,” I said quietly.

Thalio? Damn… Yes, I remembered him, and he was one of the last ponies I wanted to see again. He sure as hell didn’t look like he does now when I’d first come across the guy. He was one of the three who’d tried to fillet me in the Wither World before attempting to drag me forcibly back to the herd where they could strip my memories, and thereby ‘cleanse’ me of the spirit that had bonded with me there. Not necessarily in that order either. There was him, his pal Helios, and… “Artemis,” I said quietly. “Second Legion. Fifth Cohort. Wither World detachment.” I could remember it word for word. It was just one of those silly things that lodge in your head that has absolutely no practical value other than to remind you that sometimes you had about as much control over your own mind’s inner workings as a fox in a hen-house.

“How did you…?” Zip Line paused and held up a hoof, “No. Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.” She gave herself a shake and peered out into the rain. “Come on, we’ve got a job to do.”

So much for our shelter then. I took a breath and dove out after my comrade where the wind and rain battered at us once again, utterly heedless to the discomfort of the two ponies walking amongst the living. Speaking of which… “Zippy, can anypony actually see us?”

“Nope.” The mare forged on through the rain, holding a wing up to try and block some of the water from getting into her eyes. I can attest to the fact that it wasn’t helping.

“So how come I’m pissing wet through then?” I asked.

“Nopony told you yet?” Zip Line rolled her eyes at my blank expression. “The living don’t like to see the dead,” she explained, “and so, they don’t see us. It doesn’t mean we’re not physically here of course. We can interact with their world just as much as it can with us.”

“What, we’re like invisible to them?” I asked, genuinely intrigued by the concept. “What happens if we bump into somepony or knock something over?”

“Ever heard of poltergeists?” Zip Line replied.

“Ah...”

“Yeah. Welcome to my world, Corny.”

Poltergeists aside, the most fascinating thing for me right then was the fact that I could actually move outside the realm of the herd. There was no glade, no otherworldly glow from the spirit berry bushes, and no barrier. It was… it was like I was alive again! Who cared if other ponies couldn’t see me? I could smell, I could touch, I could feel the rain on my face and the wet mud on my coat. And it felt good. Damn it, it felt so good!

“Hoy, get a grip!” Zip Line bopped me on the nose. “Don’t start bloody daydreaming, stallion, we’ve got to-” “Wait up!” Suddenly she shoved me back behind a tall red brick wall and peered around the corner into the rain. “Yeah… that looks like our boy. What do you think?”

I nosed up to the edge of the wall and carefully, silently, focussed on the scene before me. Honestly, I thought I’d seen it all, but what I was looking at right then was bizarre to say the least. The best way I can describe it was that it was like watching a movie whilst standing outside in the pouring rain. The wet, the mud, the dark grey clouds overhead, all clashed impossibly with the sunlit sanctuary sitting there completely unaffected in the middle of the garden of overgrown flowerbeds. Only weeds now grew where once there had the vibrant colours and gentle fragrances of a well tended garden. Now it was a scene of darkness, locked in a perpetual twilight of iron grey clouds and incessant rain. And yet there, sat in the middle of it all as though time had simply sat still, was a living echo of what it had once been. Sunlight blazed overhead, untouched by the surrounding gloom, while beneath it flowers every colour of the rainbow grew as fresh and vibrant as life itself. Brightly marked butterflies flit from bloom to bloom, the rich fertile earth adding its own song to the symphony of beauty that was trapped here as though inside some otherworldly snow globe. And there amongst it all, tending this incredible scene of perfect serenity, walked a faded orange coated stallion with a wispy grey mane and tail. He looked as ancient as the mountains that surrounded us. The cruel lines of age had ravaged his face, his hide hung loosely on his bones and his knees looked decidedly shaky. But there, clearly visible on his flank, was the unmistakable cutie mark of a watering can. This had to be our stallion all right.

“That’s him,” I said quietly. “Got to be.” I glanced around us at the walls, the wild bushes and trees creaking eerily as they swayed in the wind. “Doesn’t look like much of a retirement resort to me.” It was difficult to make much out in the dim light, but the outline of a large structure and what appeared to have once been a large wide gravel driveway, loomed out of the greyness. Curiosity got the better of me. I walked over to a large shape jutting out of the wild vines and moved them aside for a better look. There, faded and cracked by years of neglect and the effect of nature, was a name.

Polston Retirement Resort

“What is it?” Zip Line whispered, moving up beside me.

I showed her the sign. “We’re definitely in the right place.”

“Well of course we are!” she hissed. “Keep focussed will you? We’re here to do a job, not book ourselves in for spa treatment you know!”

“I know that, it’s just...” I gave myself a shake, dislodging some of the water from my mane. “Look at this place, Zip. It’s been abandoned for years, decades even. How long has this guy been here?”

She shrugged, “A couple of days apparently.”

“Like bollocks he has!” I pointed towards the crumbling ruin with its flaking and rotten window frames. “This hasn’t happened in a couple of days.”

“Look, forget about it, okay?” Zip Line walked back towards the wall. “Two days, two months, twenty years. You know that time is different between here and the herd, right?”

“Of course I do,” I replied.

Zip Line gave a sniff. “So there you go then!”

Oh sure, it was just that easy wasn’t it. Let’s just dismiss the briefing as being ‘a little bit inaccurate’, by say, a fact of a few decades, right? To say it didn’t inspire confidence was the understatement of the year. I glanced around the wall at the gardener, still tending his small patch of blooms in all its summery glory. “What now then?” I asked.

“Well that’s easy, we just go over there and talk to him,” Zip Line replied.

“As simple as that?” I asked.

“As simple as that,” she nodded to me. “Just follow my lead and watch it with those bloody questions, alright? Upsetting a soul can make matters a hell of a lot worse.” Zip Line raised an eyebrow. “So no badgering, got it?”

“You’re the boss.”

I tried to give her a reassuring smile and only received a wet snort in reply. Zip Line seemed a lot more business like here than she had back in the barracks. Perhaps she was like how many of my old colleagues had been in the watch: there was one persona for the public, and another for home, friends, and family. It had always amazed me how some could switch so effortlessly between the two, whereas me… well, I’d always been myself regardless of how much I’d tried to follow their lead. How that had effected Meadow over the years I couldn’t say, and it was a well known yet little discussed fact that watch ponies had a frighteningly high divorce rate. We didn’t talk about it, and yet it was always there, lurking at the back of your mind on those long night shifts or when you were on stake outs that could take you away from home for days on end. I suppose I should have been grateful that my own marriage had lasted as long as it had.

We walked around the remains of the raised borders, pushing through long grasses and overhanging branches until, abruptly, the rain ceased and we were bathed in deliciously warm sunlight. Looking up there wasn’t a cloud in the sky: No rain, no grey overcast storm-fronts, only a gentle warmth that felt deliciously soothing and almost gentle against my fur. I had a sudden urge to take off my cloak, hang it up on the peg by the trellis, and try my own hoof at horticulture. Zip Line apparently thought otherwise and gave me a nudge, refocussing my mind on the task at hoof. And there he was, standing with a small brown apron strapped around his waist and a trowel in his hoof, tending to his plants as though this were the most natural thing in the world. If he’d seen us, he didn’t let on. My colleague gave her mane a quick brush and readjusted her helmet and saturated cloak.

“Excuse me, sir?”

Silence.

Zip Line tried again, “Ahem! Sir, am I addressing Hedgerow?”

The orange stallion continued working, his lips barely moving as he said, “Aye.”

Zip Line nodded slowly. “Sir, we have come to take you home.”

“‘Oim a’ready ‘ome,” the curious fellow replied in a heavily accented drawl.

“Sir, it’s time to move on now. The herd is calling you, and there you can tend to your garden and enjoy the fruits of your labour for all time.” Zip Line smiled gently, “Come with us, Hedgerow. It’s time to come away.”

“From the ‘erd are yer?” The old stallion’s green eyes glinted in the sunlight, reminding me a little uncomfortably of Tingles. She had similar colouring to Hedgerow, and those eyes of hers, so pure and beautiful like a forest glade. But Hedgerow’s… they were filled with a deep sense of timelessness, holding a depth that seemed completely at odds with our gentle surroundings. “Wondered when youse would get ‘ere. Took yer precious toim abaat it.”

Zip Line nodded, “We’re sorry, Hedgerow. If we could have come sooner we would have.”

He didn’t answer.

“Hedgerow, please,” my colleague reasoned, “we can’t leave you here like this. This is no place for a soul to-”

“’Oim not goin’ nowheres.” The old stallion jammed his trowel roughly into the earth. “So piss orf the two a’yer.”

So much for being a ‘milk run’! I gently placed a hoof on Zip Line’s shoulder to catch her attention. “Zip, can I have a word?”

The mare huffed and followed me a few paces away from Hedgerow and, hopefully, out of earshot. “Obstinate old sod,” she muttered.

“I’m guessing this wasn’t expected,” I said.

Zip Line shook her head. “It happens, but we usually have more information to work on.” She took out the briefing pack and leafed through it once more. “There’s bugger all about him other than him being a gardener and… that’s about it.”

I glanced back at our orange friend and watched how he tenderly touched each bloom, watering them and brushing away the dead leaves. The look of absolute peace on his face and the love in his eyes was all I needed to know. He was happy here. Here in this small bubble of peace, this old soul had found what he truly wanted. “He can’t have just popped up out of thin air,” I reasoned. “He must have parents or somepony. Doesn’t he have any relatives in the herd?”

Zip Line shook her head. “None that he’d be bothered about by the looks of it. Most souls have a connection to those who have gone on before them: parents, children, grandparents, even friends. That bond helps them move on to the herd. This guy though…” She let out a long breath. “There’s nothing in the briefing about anypony as a next of kin.”

What a bloody outfit! Somepony needed to have a serious word with whoever was putting these briefing packs together, and preferably beat them with it afterwards. The lack of information, not to mention the inaccuracy of the time this poor bugger had been left here, was more than telling. “Zip, let’s go and have a look in the building,” I suggested. “I want to have a look around to see if there’s anything in there that may help.”

“I doubt we’ll find anything useful in there,” Zip Line replied. “Half the bloody roof’s missing. Look, all we need to do is persuade him and he’ll come along on his own.”

“I’m not so sure.” I shook my head slowly. “Zip, this guy’s been here for a long time by looks of it. If he’d wanted to move on he’d have done it long ago. I mean look at him, he’s happy here. I know it’s not exactly what we do, but could we-”

“Leave him here?” Zip Line finished for me. She shook her head. “Not a chance.” Suddenly she pushed me out of the way and advanced on the gardener. “Sir, I know you love your garden, we can see that, but you must know that you have to let this go. You have friends, loved ones, who are waiting for you in the afterlife. Don’t you want to see them again? Wouldn’t you want to create a garden of your own there in the land where-”

“Oi don’t want to ‘ear another word aht-a your maaf, young loidy.” Hedgerow’s voice abruptly lowered to a deep growl that made the very air around us vibrate. “Oi telt yer ter piss orf afore and oi means it! Nah piss orf!”

“Zippy, did you feel that?” I whispered. “Look, let’s just-”

“Be you still ‘ere?!” The orange stallion slowly turned, his green eyes suddenly twinkling with a haunting light that flickered menacingly. “Oi said, PISS ORF!”

In an instant the atmosphere changed from one of gentle sunshine and blue skies to a mirror of the outside world. Lightning flashed overhead, illuminating the skeletal trees of the overgrown gardens whilst thunder rumbled so violently I could feel its vibrations through my armour. Zip Line and I both took a step back as Hedgerow advanced on us.

“Get away with ye!” He bared his teeth, his posture shifting to one that emanated a level of aggression that was terrifyingly animalistic in its intensity. Before our very eyes, the gentle gardener began to morph. His worn hide shivered, withering away before us as his teeth began to lengthen, slipping over his lips in a nightmarish rictus grin. But above it all were those eyes, like the fires of the abyss staring naked hatred at us. “GET THEE AWAY!”

I caught sight of Zip Line’s hoof moving to her sword, heard her swearing beneath her breath... and grabbed her. “Zippy, come on. Let’s pull back and rethink our-”

“No!” She glanced up at me. “We can’t. Not now. Damn it, it’s too late Corny. He’s a bloody Lemur.”

“A what?” I blinked.

“A corrupted soul,” she replied quickly, “one filled with vengeance for something, or some wrong that’s been done to it in life.” Zip Line shook her head. “We can’t leave him like this, Corny. We’ll have to take him down.”

“Take him down?” I felt a chill run through me. “He hasn’t done anything wrong! We can’t just kill him!”

“He’s already dead, or hadn’t you noticed?” Zip Line began to draw her sword. “Look, there’s no option left now anyway. If we don’t take him he’ll become more powerful, more dangerous, and then he’ll become a serious risk to anypony who comes here.”

I raised my hoof to protest but it was too late. Hedgerow, or whatever he had become, had noticed the glint of the weapon at his slid from its scabbard. The creature’s hiss was bone chilling enough as it was, even before it was accompanied by a howl that sounded like the gates of hell had been thrown wide open. A moment later the orange stallion launched itself at us, a razor sharp array of teeth coming onward with terrifying speed. At almost the same instant, Zip Line rocketed up into the air, leaving me barely a hair’s breadth to dodge aside before the monster was on me. I barely escaped. I felt the teeth rake down my armour as the beast passed, crashing through the rotten plant holders like they were as solid as paper. Instinctively I drew my sword and shifted my balance, turning to face him... but I was slow. Too damned slow. His movements leant speed by whatever supernatural forces held him, Hedgerow had already turned and ploughed into me so fast I was knocked effortlessly aside. All I could do was watch helplessly as my sword span away from me into the rain and mud. And then my view changed to one that made my heart freeze. All I could see was hatred, hatred and teeth, coming at me with such furious speed and aggression that I let me body react on pure instinct. I rolled away, narrowly missing the snapping jaws that would have taken my throat out in a cold and bloody spray of gore, and snatched up my mud slicked blade. My heart was hammering in my chest, my muscles tensed to painful levels, but in a flash my sword was out, the lethally sharp point all that now stood between me and a decidedly messy end. Goddesses above, when all of this madness was over I was going to have some serious words with my bloody father in law! For now though, such concerns were the last thing on my mind. The creature lunged, saw my sword, and abruptly halted its advance, swaying its head from side to side.

“Corny, get away from it!” Zip Line shouted. “Head for the building!”

“If I can do it without being eaten alive, sure!” I called back. “He’s a little bit pissed off right now!”

“I’ll distract him, just get out of the bubble and he won’t follow you.”

“Understood!”

Zip Line swooped in, taking a swipe at the orange monster. The thing dodged away with ease, but the mare’s dive distracted it long enough for me to bolt for the wall. Seconds later the rain hit me full in the face, and I was damned glad of it too. Behind me the howling creature stood watching in absolute silence before slowly, deliberately, turning away. I leaned against the wall, breathing hard as Zip Line landed beside me with a thump and a blast of air from her soaked wings.

She let out a breath and rubbed her eyes. “Bugger me...”

“Couldn’t have put it any better myself,” I snorted. “Any ideas?”

Zip Line shook her head, sheathing her sword with a wet thud. “We have to go back and report this,” she said gravely. “That thing’s way outside my job description.” The pegasus pulled off her helmet and shook out her mane. “Damn it all, how the hell are we up against a bloody Lemur?!”

“I take it this isn’t what usually happens then?” I asked.

“You must be kidding. No!” Zip Line closed her eyes, trying to get her breath back. “This doesn’t happen to newly deceased spirits. Not normally anyway. Why the hell wasn’t this assigned to a dangerous recovery unit?”

I didn’t know myself. Somepony had messed up royally on this one and we were now left in the decidedly uncomfortable position of having to report back our failure, and on my first field trip too. Thalio would love to hear that one, and would no doubt make Zip Line’s life a misery as a result, taking every opportunity to remind her about it. There had to be something we could do. “Zip, you said that he was a… what, a corrupted soul?” I said, scratching my chin. “What are the causes of this? Isn’t there anything we can do to calm him down?”

She shook her head. “Not that I know of. Lemures are usually subdued by brute force before being collected for transportation. They’re then cleansed back at the herd.”

“He can obviously communicate with us,” I said thoughtfully. “If we could just reach out to him, reason with him...”

“Luna’s lugs, are you mad?!” Zip Line threw up her forelegs in exasperation. “You saw what he turned into back there! He’d take us apart!”

I poked my head back around the wall to stare through the unending rain. Sure enough the ‘reality bubble’ as Zip Line had called it, had returned as if the last few minutes had simply never happened. As it had been when we’d first arrived, the sun was shining once again in the powder blue sky whilst the gardener tended his magnificent blooms in that quiet little world of absolute tranquillity. Zippy was right of course, facing that ‘Lemur’ or whatever it was, was a genuinely terrifying prospect. The damned thing had moved like lightning, and I didn’t doubt for a moment that it was quite capable of taking the two of us down without even breaking a sweat. Still, it had only put in an appearance, so to speak, when the old fellow had been pushed too far. I could try to speak to him again of course, but as I knew so little about him the likelihood was he’d simply turn me away – or worse. If I had an edge, just something that could… hmm…

“What?” Zip Line asked, staring at me. “You’ve got a look on your face that says you’re thinking about something. Something I probably won’t like either.”

I jerked my head towards the access road. “Come on, let’s have a look in the building and see what we can dig up.”

“No way!” Zip Line shook her head emphatically. “Look, no offence, Captain? But I outrank you here, and whether you like it or not protocol demands that we report this and leave it to another team to take care of.”

“And just who will you report our failure to?” I asked. “Thalio, by any chance?”

“No, but...” She trailed off.

“Yeah.” I raised an eyebrow, fixing my gaze on the old resort building behind us. “Well, you can go back if you want, but I’m not throwing the towel in on my first day before I’ve at least made some effort to try and fix the situation. And if I fail, then at least I’ll know I’ve tried.”

Zip Line’s eyes bore into mine. “You know, you’re really starting to become one serious pain in the arse, Corny.” She shoved her helmet back on her head and snorted loudly. “Well, come on then, what are you waiting for?” She began to walk towards the column lined portico. “I just know I’m going to regret this...”

“What, you don’t like urban exploration?” I asked catching up with her. “I used to love poking around old buildings when I was a colt.”

“You don’t say...” Zip Line muttered.

“Sure. Anyway, what have we got to lose? We find nothing we go back and make our report. But if we find something that could help, then...” I left my comrade to complete the sentence however she saw fit.

Zip Line was certainly no fool, even if she didn’t exactly share my optimism. Rather than answer me she simply hung her head and let me lead the way, doubtless waiting for me to fall flat on my face – metaphorically or otherwise. It wasn’t as if I knew exactly what I was going to do when we got inside either, but at least I had some idea where to start our search. All large establishments like this had them, and I could only hope that what I was looking for would still be here. The large entrance to the building was certainly unmistakable. Once upon a time it must have been quite the spectacle, giving new meaning to the words ‘grand’ and ‘imposing’. Even now the ivy covered remains of carved stone griffins flanked the wide soil strewn granite steps leading to what remained of massive wooden doors. There were four of them in total, all fitted with numerous small square panes of glass, many of which were now cracked or shattered into tiny fragments. Zip Line was right, nopony had been here in a long, long time. It looked like the place had been on fire by the looks of it too, and even age hadn’t dulled the unmistakably pungent smell of smoke that had seeped its way into the very fabric of the once grand resort for retired ponies.

I pushed on one of the doors and after a little resistance it groaned open, grinding noisily against years of built up dirt, broken plaster, and wind blow detritus that had invaded the interior through the numerous holes and cracks. It was dark too, nigh on pitch black for that matter. Time for the old Fairlight party trick then! A tiny trickle of magic into my horn produced a nice flickering flame just large enough to give us some useful illumination.

“Neat trick, Corny,” Zip Line observed drily. “Just make sure you don’t stand too near anything flammable, ‘kay?”

I panned the flame around, illuminating the extent of the damage. “Bit late for that,” I replied gravely.

The black and white tiled floor was covered in soil and glass, crunching loudly underhoof. The walls, once a brilliant white, were now peeling and showing signs of smoke damage - if the thick black marks on the tops of the door frames was any indication. I’d noticed from outside how a sizeable part of the roof was missing in the west wing of the retirement home, which I guessed was probably the centre of the blaze. The site itself was so remote that I doubted there’d been any effective fire fighting teams anywhere near that could have been of help in tackling the blaze until it was already eating its way through the structure. Evens so, here and there were signs that some efforts had been made to save the building. Abandoned buckets, hazard tape and fire extinguishers, lay abandoned, slowly being claimed by the same encroachment of nature that was overtaking what was once a thriving sanctuary of light and laughter. At least, judging by the faded paintings and posters that littered the walls. It was a strange mix of classical building style and light hearted cheer that some might have found chaotic. Personally, I found it rather charming. I stared up at one of the posters:

The Big Horn boys invite you to an evening of old west magic and song that will take your breath away!

Join in the action, excitement and songs of the frontier as we bring the past to life!

Tickets available at reception.

“I wonder if it was worth seeing,” Zip Line asked.

She walked up next to me, gazing at the poster that showed images of buffalo in traditional war paint and head-dress engaged in some bizarre acts with ponies that involved burning hoops, bows, and apples. Lots and lots of apples. Very odd. Still, it probably would have been fun to watch back in the day. Of course, the herd had more than its fair share of events too, but they did tend to err on the side of… stuffy. Was that the word? Yeah, definitely stuffy.

“It was probably was,” I said quietly. “You sure don’t get shows like that nowadays.”

I turned away and walked over to the reception desk. It was mostly clear, but here and there was the odd piece of mouldering paper that was still legible, including the occasional letter that had never been opened by its intended recipient. I picked up one of them and read the address.

Gladstone Banks
Room 106
Polston Retirement Resort
Foal Falls
FF12 1AO

It was still sealed. Whoever Gladstone had been he’d never had a chance to receive his mail, let alone open it before the fire had swept through his home. I put it to one side and walked around to the side of the large desk, lifted up the hatch, and walked through a small sea of discarded keys that clinked and rattled against my hooves.

Zip Line shivered. “Be careful!” She closed her eyes and nickered quietly. “Goddesses, I don’t like it here at all. Place gives me the bloody creeps.”

“Knock it off, Zip,” I huffed, “you’re making me nervous.” I moved the small flame over my head, illuminating the cupboards and pigeon holes, looking for what I hoped would be there. Every hotel and resort I knew of had one of them, and this surely must have. My hooves brushed lightly across the shelves, feeling for- “Aha!” Something big, heavy, and decidedly ‘ledgery’ snagged beneath my touch. With a heave the massive old book slid out of its ancient hiding place, and I plopped it down in a whoosh of dust on the heavy marble desktop.

“What’s that?” Zip Line asked, moving closer.

“What I was hoping we’d find.” I hovered my flame over the huge book and turned the page. “It’s the resort register,” I explained. “It should have a list of all the comings and goings of ponies here, including the residents.”

“You’re thinking Hedgerow will be in there?” she asked.

“I am.”

“But what will that prove?” Zip Line frowned in thought, narrowing her eyes as she stared at the worn hoofwriting. “We know he was a resident here.”

I ran my hoof down the last of the entries and worked my way back. Day after day, weeks, months, even years were recorded here in exacting detail. “I know,” I said, waving her concerns aside. “Hedgerow must have had a room here and… hang on… got it!” I turned to the wall behind me where some keys still remained. “Room 47.” There, on the large rack, was a gap where the key for Hedgerow’s room would have hung. “Damn it!”

“Maybe he was in when the fire happened?” Zip Line reasoned. “Or it’s on the floor somewhere in that mess.”

She had a point. I shook my head and looked towards the stairs. “Well I’m buggered if I’m going to hunt through that lot. Besides, I have a feeling we may not be needing it.”

“Why’s that?” Zip Line asked.

“Room 47 is in the west wing.”

My companion followed my gaze to the brass plaque that still clearly read:

Rooms 1 – 50 First Floor.

“Oh that’s just bloody marvellous.” My companion adjusted her helmet, “Well, what are you waiting for mister ‘urban explorer’? Whip out your fancy magic flame wotsit and lead the way.” She smirked as I passed her.

“Am I missing something funny?” I asked.

“Nah, not really,” Zip Line teased. “Just if the ceiling falls in or the floor collapses, you’ll get clobbered first.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” I replied tartly.

“You’re welcome.”

“Least you can float over the ground,” I pointed out as we walked up the creaking stairs. “But watch your head up there. If there’s anything loose even the slightest bump could bring the whole lot down on us.”

“A real little ray of sunshine, aren’t you?” Zip Line huffed sarcastically. “Of course I’ll be careful! I’m more worried about you.”

I gave her what I hoped was a reassuring wink, but I was becoming increasingly unsure of what we were getting ourselves into. The hazard warning tape had obviously been put there for a reason, and here we were creeping along like thieves in the night. And night it was. It was bitterly cold in here, the silent rows of radiators long since past the time when they’d added warmth for the benefit of the residents. There was nopony here now, nor even any wildlife either which I thought was especially odd. The old buildings I’d poked around as a colt had been quickly overtaken by the steady encroachment of plant life, as well as birds, rodents, and even larger animals in some cases. Here there was a distinct lack of anything living at all, and by the looks of it we were likely the first ones here since the fire. Everywhere I looked lay the evidence of a hasty evacuation. Clothes, half rotted or burned, lay scattered on the floor in the empty bedrooms we passed. Doors hung open, personal possessions and trinkets dropped where they had fallen as their owners fled the approaching smoke and flames. The ceiling bore witness to the intensity of the fire, and also showed considerable water damage from the attempts to put it out. Mouldy walls and sodden wallpaper vied for attention with the peeling and blackened paintwork. Wind pulled at my mane and made the flame flicker crazily, tugged by errant air currents sneaking in through the open windows and the occasional hole in the roof. Throughout everything though was the interminable stench of smoke and burnt wood. It was a scene that conjured images in my mind of the sheer terror the residents must have faced as the flames began to consume the resort’s main building. Screams, shouting, smoke, coughing… Judging by the amount of bed clothes strewn throughout the rotting hallway, the fire must have happened during the night when most of the residents were asleep. I could only hope that most of them, if not all, had managed to escape. I was still wondering about the fate of these poor souls when a female shriek of fright made me spin round in alarm.

“Snake! SNAKE!!!” The armoured mare’s eyes were as wide as saucers as she flew off down the corridor the way we came.

In an instant my sword was out, the flame above me brightening in intensity as I panned it around the blackened corridor. “Zip! Where is it?” I shouted. “Where’s the snake?”

“By the door! Be careful!” came the echoed reply.

“Which door? Bloody hell, Zip, I can’t- DAMN IT!”

I was slow. Careless. I would never have allowed myself to be taken by surprise like this in my youth, and a new body as well as the months of easy living courtesy of the eternal herd had done nothing to sharpen my once well honed senses either. I’d become lazy, and my foolish assumption that no living creatures had made this burned out wreck of a building their home had lead me to this moment. The snake dropped heavily across my shoulders and carried me to the filth strew floor in an instant. Winded, the light from my flame went out, plunging me into absolute darkness. Desperately I hacked at the thing with my sword, but the damned creature was as tough as old boot leather. In the darkness of that stinking filth strewn corridor the vile thing spat venom at me, and I gasped in shock as it hit the corner of my eye. Furious with myself I rolled, trying to get the reptile off me and do my best to prevent it from coiling itself around my body and crushing me to death. I’d heard of these beasts before, the large anacondas that lived in the swamplands and great forests of Equestria. They would grab you, coil around your body, and squeeze; a final crushing embrace that stopped your lungs from pulling in that most precious of elements. Memories of nearly drowning as a foal assailed me: the sound of water, the water burning in my throat and lungs, the image of my father pulling me out. Damn it, no… NO! I wasn’t going to go out like this! Not like this! I struggled, grabbing the elusive thing in my teeth and used my magic to find the creature’s body where I could use the point of my sword to best effect. There! I pushed down and heaved my full weight onto the hilt. With all my strength I rammed the length of polished steel into the bright red monster’s body, pinning it to the blackened floor.

It was silent. Had I killed it? Goddesses, I had to get away from the thing! What if it was poisonous? Even badly injured it could still pose a threat. I couldn’t see the snake’s head, but I managed to kick out and slip the coils from around myself before I was able to stand back and magic the flame into existence once more. Sure enough, my opponent lay motionless amongst the detritus on the blackened floor. No more would it attack ponies... nor even fires for that matter…

“Did you get it?” the voice called from along the corridor. “Is it safe?”

“Yeah.” I reached down and yanked my sword free of the creature’s body. “One monster down, one to go.”

A pair of blue eyes glinting in the light of my flame drew nearer. “You’re sure it’s dead though, right? Absolutely sure? Goddesses, I hate snakes!”

“Oh, I think I can safely say it’s dead, Zippy.” I reached down and picked up the things head. “Look out! SSSSS!!!”

“Ahhh!” Zip Line’s shriek echoed down the corridor/ “What are you doing you stupid arse! Its… Its… hang on...”

“Yeah.” I tossed her the large bronze fire hose nozzle. “Had me going for a while there too.”

“You rotten sod, you scared the crap out of me!” Zip Line swallowed. “That wasn’t fair, Corny!”

“You’re the one who said it was a snake,” I reminded her. “I thought the damned thing was going to kill me.”

“Huh! Going by all the grunting and yelling you were making I thought so too,” she nickered.

“Aye, and thanks for the help too by the way.” I turned back and resumed walking towards the elusive room forty seven.

My companion caught up quickly. “Well, I… I would have helped you know. I was just waiting for the right moment to strike, that was all.”

“And I suppose your fear of fire hoses – sorry - ‘snakes’, had absolutely nothing to do with it. Am I right?” I asked pointedly.

“No!” Zip Line held up her hooves, “No, I…” She sighed and flopped down to the ground beside me. “Yes...”

“Don’t sweat it.” I waved a hoof, brushing aside the matter. “We all have things that freak us out.”

There was a long pause. Zip Line was clearly embarrassed by the matter, but in fairness to her I was the one who’d ended up being ‘attacked’ by a bloody fire hose in the first place. Some warrior I turned out to be! I ducked under a collapsed roof beam, careful not to disturb anything so far as I could. Who knew what other surprises lurked in this mess?

“Corny?”

“Hmm?” I squeezed past a cracked section of wall.

“What freaks you out?” Zip Line asked.

“Me?” I shrugged. “Spiders. And celery.”

“Celery?!” Zip Line’s hearty chuckle was like a magic charm in that dark place. It felt out of place in such scene of devastation and misery, but also strangely warming. “How can anypony be afraid of a vegetable?”

I laughed quietly. “Guess that’s just one of the many weird things that makes me who I am.” I paused. “Hold up, we’re here.”

Zip Line fluttered down to land next to me and leaned in closer. “Forty seven,” she said quietly. “Hedgerow’s room.”

“Yeah...” The door was open, barely, and showed signs of being forced. The wood around the lock was split and there were dents in the wooden panels from what looked like hooves. I pushed the door and managed to get it to move, barely. What seemed like furniture and clothes had been piled up on the inside, blocking it from being opened enough to allow us through. “Zip, give me a hoof here.” The two of us pushed as hard as we could. Unexpectedly, water, fire damage and the ravages of time, came to our aid. Whatever was on the other side of the door groaned, split, and squelched as we put our shoulders into it. “Once more,” I said, steeling myself. “Ready?” I glanced at my friend who nodded in response. “Okay. One, two, three… heave!” There was a horrible cacophony of sound from behind the door as it finally gave way, nearly pitching me muzzle first through the opening. My hooves skittered across the wet floor and I could feel myself losing balance.

“Whoa! I gotcha.” Zip Line’s blue eye’s blinked in the light from my flame as she caught me.

With a deep sigh of relief I nodded my thanks. I certainly didn’t relish the prospect of falling into whatever ambiguous mess awaited us on the other side. It was cold, wet, and decidedly miserable enough as it was in this gloomy place without coating myself with even more filth than I already had. I brushed at my armour. Yup, it was going to take hours to get this clean…

“Can you see anything?” Zip Line asked.

I cast my flame before me, careful not to let it ruin my night vision. Lowering the intensity helped reduce the shadows to some degree but had the unfortunate side effect of narrowing the pool of light. Still, it looked safe enough so far as I could tell. At some point in the past part of the ceiling had come in and I could see stars through the gaping hole in the roof beyond. Everything else was black in here. From the bed to the walls, even the cabinets and paintings, everything was smoke and heat damaged. Taken as a whole the overall effect was like standing in the middle of a furnace. If anything living had been in here when the fire swept through there was no hope it could have survived. I could only pray that the smoke had taken them before the flames. I knew something of that myself. I could remember the smoke, the flickering yellow flames, and the light in Meadow’s eyes fading before me. They had taken her and Sparrow from me. Stolen my beloved and-

“There’s another door.” Zip Line’s voice made me twitch involuntarily. “You okay?” she asked.

“Yeah.” I lifted my flame and saw the door she alluded to. “Maybe it’s just another snake.”

“Ha!” Zip Line trotted up and tried the door handle. “Bugger. It’s stuck.”

In a flash I span and bucked out at the door which gave with a loud crack as the lock burst from the weakened and blackened wood.

“Might want to work on that anger management there, Corny,” Zip Line quipped. She moved ahead of me, peering into the darkness beyond. I floated over the flame so she could see better and Zippy quickly waved me over. “Look there. Think that’s our angry Lemur?”

I looked down at the pile of blackened bones in the corner of the bathroom, feeling my mouth go dry. Towels had been soaked and pressed up against the door to stop the smoke, but it had been too little, far, far too late.

“Blessed goddesses...” I breathed. “They just… left him here.”

“That explains a lot then,” Zip Line said quietly. “Poor sod must have been forgotten about in the panic.”

“They could have come back and recovered the remains,” I replied. “They could have given the poor sod a decent Equestrian burial. Why the hell did they leave him? I don’t understand.”

“There are some things I guess we never will,” Zip Line said sadly. “Maybe they made a mistake and ticked him off the list. Maybe they did come back in here but just didn’t spot him. You’ve seen the mess this place is in.”

“I know, it’s just...” I took a breath and sighed loudly. “It’s wrong, Zippy. All of this, it’s just...” I closed my eyes. “Zip?”

My colleague was leaning down to examine the bones and was staring at a bowl beside them on the floor. “Yeah?”

“Can you… can you look at my hind leg a moment,” I swallowed. “Please.”

“Eh? Your hind leg? Why?”

“There’s something moving.”

Zip Line’s eyes went wide, reflecting the firelight and adding all the more to my barely restrained urge to buck out and charge for the door. “Oh!” she exclaimed suddenly. “Look, it’s a little cat!”

“A cat?” My neck felt like it had turned to stone, but I finally managed to force it to bend to my will and there, sure enough, was a little black and white patched cat. “Oh goddesses...” I licked my lips and swallowed. “I nearly soiled myself.”

“You big baby!” Zip Line reached out to our unexpected feline companion. “Hello puss! What are you doing here, eh? Aren’t you beautiful! Yes, you are!”

“Oh, please...” I stayed where I was, conscious of the fact that equine hooves didn’t go well with soft paws, and the way the friendly little fellow was rubbing around me I was going to have to move him out of the way if I was going to be able to do anything of any use here. “Zip, can you move him out of the way while I find something to put these in?” I asked.

“Put these…?” Zip Line looked up at me. “What? You’re not thinking of doing what I think you’re doing, are you?”

“He needs a proper burial,” I said. “I may not be the best in the world for that, but we can make the effort at least.”

“You’re weren’t a priest as well in your previous life were you?” My comrade reached down and tickled the cat under the chin. “We could cock the whole thing up and make matters worse. Disturbing the bones of the dead can have unforeseen ramifications.”

I paused. “What sort of ramifications?” I asked curiously.

“Well… um, I’m not exactly...” Zip Line frowned. “Look, I can’t remember right this second, okay? Just… just do what you’re doing and let’s get out of here. I can’t stand this place. My furs black, my armours black, and I stink too!”

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” I replied. I looked around and made my choice. With a heavy pull the shower curtain which had miraculously escaped relatively unscathed for some reason, came away from the rail with a clatter of pinging clips. “Here, give me a hoof will you.”

To her credit, Zip Line put aside her distaste for such a vile job without another word. And so the two of us carefully, and as reverently as possible in the circumstances, collected each blackened bone and placed it in the centre of the shower curtain. As we worked the cat watched us out of the corner of its eye, washing himself, or herself. I was never that good at identifying cat genders. It wasn’t that I didn’t like cats, far from it in fact, it was just that my relatives had so many of the things that I must have reached saturation point due to the innumerable visits my parents forced me to make to Aunt Pewter’s. The cats themselves certainly had no trouble determining which was male and which was female considering the explosion in the feline population at the small home. And that’s another thing, you never forget the smell of unwashed litter trays. This little thing however was all alone here, and watching our every move. Oh, he may have been washing his face and looking cute and calm in that effortless manner all cats have, but I could sense as much as see the scrutiny we were under as we worked. A shame he couldn’t have given us a helping paw really. And so, piece by grim piece, the sad and pitiful remnants of what had once been a living, breathing creature, were packed up, tied up, and placed on my back. Obviously they couldn’t go on Zip Line’s back because she had wings and needed them to fly... apparently. A point she made several times in fact. I didn’t mind, Hedgerow weighed about as much as a pillow now, and if this small inconvenience to me could put this old fellow to rest then it was more than worth it. Much, much more.

“Did you hear that?” Zip Line asked quietly.

I shifted the load on my back and looked back at her. “What?”

“Shhh! Listen!”

I strained my hearing and could hear something. I couldn’t quite make out what it was, but there was definitely something. A… a groaning sound? Moaning… no, a creaking of-

“Ohhh, SHIT!” Zip Line threw herself across the room, the cat leaping out of the way with a yowl and my legs shoving me up and away as a gigantic crack began to race up the wall, coursing across the ceiling and down the other side. Thick chunks of rotten plaster and paint rained down on us like massive snowflakes, pinging off our armour as though we were in some crazy indoor hailstorm. “Corny! We have to get out of here,” Zip shouted. “The whole place is coming down!”

I didn’t doubt Zip Line’s words. Judging by the deep resounding crashes and roars, it sounded like we were in the middle of an avalanche. We dragged ourselves bodily against the enormous vibrations to the door and saw the hole where the floor had been, now only a massive black chasm of broken beams and falling tiles.

“Can you fly out?” I shouted over the deafening noise.

Zip Line shook her head, “There’s too much debris! And I’m not leaving you here!”

“Don’t be so bloody obstinate!” I yelled. “You can fly and get help, I’ll find my own way out.”

“If I try and fly in the pitch black through that,” she replied, “I doubt either of us will. No, we stay together, and that’s that!”

I wasn’t in the mood to argue, and the sound of the old building’s death throws were coming louder and more frequent now. I could hear bricks, probably the walls themselves, falling away into the open air whilst wooden beams were bent beyond breaking point, giving way with a gut wrenching splintering sound that echoed around us. I looked further up the corridor, away from where most of the sound was coming from, but also where the fire had been at its most intense. It wasn’t much of a choice.

Meow

“Corny, the cat!” Zippy suddenly cried. “We can’t leave it here!”

“I’m more bothered about us right now!” I shouted. “I’m sure the cat’s more capable of taking care of himself than we are.”

She shook her head. “No, I mean, I think it wants us to follow it!”

“Oh for… are you nuts?!” I stared at the cat. The cat stared back. It moved away a little, looked back, meowed, and then walked away again. “I don’t believe I’m even considering this...” I stared at Zip Line and then back to the cat. “Okay, it’s official, I’m nuts. We’re all raving bloody nuts!” I reared and nickered loudly, “Let’s move!”

The cat broke into a loping run, effortlessly leaping over broken beams and pillars as I ran behind and Zip Line flew above. The magical flame I kept ahead of us all, allowing us just enough time to spot hazards and clear them. I ran on, following the mysterious feline. Leaping gaping black holes in the floor, dodging collapsed walls and sharp splintered beams and joists, the hallway felt like it was going on forever. But behind us the sounds of the dying resort built up into a howling cacophony, a crescendo of despair and bone crushing death that leant speed to my legs. I could feel a tingle of fear burning in my spine and down my thighs, as though though the icy claws of the reaper were catching up to me, desperate to drag me down into the depths of Tartarus. Goddesses, what had I done to deserve this?! My breathing was quickly becoming laboured, the adrenalin in my veins clouding my judgement and taking control, making my leaps and dodges more instinctual than conscious. I gave it full rein. To try and think now, to attempt to reason, was akin to suicide. In battle you acted and reacted, you didn’t sit there and think, you didn’t have the time to reason out what to do next - you simply acted. Your experience, your skill and your strength, were what kept you alive. And speed. Dear goddesses, I don’t think I’ve ever run so hard in my life! Or death...

“There’s a window up ahead!” Zip Line shouted. Suddenly she shot ahead, hovering over the open portal. “We can get out here!”

“We’re on the first bloody floor!” I yelled.

“It doesn’t matter!” Zip Line stared past me, her eyes wide. “There won’t be a floor in a minute! Jump!”

In a heartbeat she was outside, the cat following, and me… goddesses grant me mercy… I dug my hooves in and leaped. I felt that horrible moment of weightlessness, of falling, the ground disappearing into darkness, my armour catching on something that shrieked past me and then being grabbed, slipping, falling again, and then… nothing.

********************

Grass. Grass, leaves and soil. Not exactly the sort of things you expect to find in your mouth when you wake up, especially when you haven’t been drinking the night before. I spat them out and felt somepony stroking my mane and cooing softly. It reminded me of waking in the morning to my beautiful wife gazing into my eyes, and her soft, gentle lips…

“Corny?”

“Who?” I opened my eyes, blinking in surprise as- “Ow! Oooh, my bloody head!”

“Yeah, about that.” Zip Line motioned to a dark shape on a darker background. After a moment my vision began to clear and I could make out what looked to be some sort of outbuilding beneath the gable end of the main building. What was left of it anway. “Seems you don’t bounce,” she finished.

“No...” I tried to stand but my head and back felt like I’d been run over by runaway cart. “Damn it!”

“Try not to move too much. You fell quite a ways.” Zip Line’s face told its own story. A nasty cut over her eye had stained her white fur red where the helmet didn’t cover. I reached up and caught her as she tried to pull away. “What are you-?”

“You’re hurt,” I said, taking off my panniers. They were scuffed, scratched, but the medical kit inside was thankfully intact. “Take your helmet off and let me have a look at you.”

She didn’t argue. Zip Line winced as she took off the burnished helm and put it down by her side. Almost instantly her fur changed from white to coal black with the white markings I’d seen the first time we’d met in the barrack room. Her blue mane changed too, from blue to a two toned pink whilst her eyes remained pretty much the same. If anything they seemed even more blue than they had even with the magic of the armour. I moved closer, ignoring my own pains and conjured up the flame once more.

“Never thought I’d be that glad of a bit of magic,” she murmured. “I don’t like the dark.”

“Mmhmm. Hold still.” Zip Line hissed in pain as I moved closer to her and plucked the piece of glass out with my lips. Carefully I ran my tongue into the wound to check for other debris. Fortunately it looked like that was the last of it, and I took out my canteen to pour some water over the cut. Zip Line moaned beneath me ministrations. “You okay down there?” I asked.

“Mmm...”

“Nearly done,” I assured her. I found the bottle of antiseptic spray and patches that came with each kit. They were imbued with some form of magic, and certainly did the job well enough. One quick spritz of the spray later, one applied patch, and the indomitable Zip Line was breathing easier.

“You’ve… got quite the touch there, Corny,” she smiled faintly.

I grinned, “You too. My head feels… well, fine now really.”

Zip Line suddenly shifted closer. “You can’t be, you had a hell of bang back there. Bust a couple of ribs at least.”

I felt down my side and shook my head. “Nope, feel fine.” I shrugged, “That’s the benefit of eternal herd magic, I suppose.”

“But we’re not in the eternal herd!” Zip Line hissed. She moved around me, checking the bandages she’d put on me whilst I’d been out cold. “I don’t understand it,” she mumbled, “your injuries… they’re nearly all healed!”

“So are yours.” I pointed to the patch on her head. “Magically imbued, remember?”

“I… guess so.” Zip Line shook her head in confusion. “Anyway, you stay here and I’ll-”

“We do this together,” I said standing up.

My ribs did twinge, I’ll give her that, but I was mercifully in one piece. I hoped! I left my armour to one side though; no sense aggravating any existing injuries be they noticeable or not. I’d obviously launched myself out of the window and, somewhere along the line, bounced off the roof of the tool shed. Zip Line hadn’t said it but I knew she’d tried to catch me and I’d slipped out of her grasp. She was lucky she hadn’t been dragged down with me. I knew all too well how pegasi could break their wings from talking with my friends in the tribe. Grimble may have been a griffin, but even his strong wings had been beaten about in his time. I remember how we’d laughed about it while sinking a bottle or two of his speciality brandy, sitting in front of the fire place in the old Wyvern’s Tail. Celestia… how long had it been now? I hadn’t thought about my extended family in such a long time. I felt nostagic, but also… shame. I should have done more, for all of them.

“Where are we going to bury these bones?” Zip Line asked, interrupting my ruminations.

I dragged over the tied up shower curtain and stared at. Miraculously the thing had survived with its contents intact. Not only was it fireproof, it was idiot jumping out of a window proof too apparently. I’d have to find out who made these and get some for the tribe. The bloody things would make fantastic armour. Flicking a piece of masonry from my mane I felt as much as saw the movement in the grass ahead of us. It was the cat. Once again the peculiar feline seemed to be wanting us to follow it, and who the hell was I to argue?

I shrugged, “I guess we follow the cat.”

“Sure, why not?” Zip Line groaned, falling into step beside me as I picked up the bundle of bones in my magic. “It’s not like tonight could get any weirder.”

“What, a night out beneath the stars and a moonlit stroll?” I asked. “What’s not to like?”

Zip Line tossed her head, “Hmph! Well at least its stopped raining.”

“There you go,” I said happily/ “Every cloud has a silver lining after all.”

“Are you always this optimistic?” she asked.

I couldn’t help but raise a smile. “Nope. I guess you just bring out the worst in me, Zippy.”

“Oh… belt up!” She playfully clopped my rump. “Hey look, he’s stopped by that tree standing on its own over there.”

I lifted my head and focussed on the tree. Sure enough the cat had stopped by what looked like an old ash tree and was pawing at the ground there. He wasn’t trying to dig, more sort of… indicating. What an odd little thing he was. I put down my makeshift bag and set off back to the tool shed.

“Hey, where are you going?” Zip Line asked anxiously.

“I need a shovel. Hang on.” I trotted back to the place that had ‘helped’ break my fall and was relieved to find the door unlocked. It was dark and dusty inside, but there was a goodly array of tools, buckets, watering cans, and a vast array of plant pots left behind by the previous owners – possibly even Hedgerow himself. Thick cobwebs covered everything now. Countless generations of spiders had made their home in here, but thankfully in the darkness I couldn’t see them too closely. A brief look round revealed just what I was looking for too - a particularly solid looking spade which would do the job nicely. Moments later I was back by my relieved looking friend.

“Don’t do that again!” Zip Line groused. “Every time you bugger off the light goes with you.”

“Why didn’t you bring a lantern then?” I asked. “They issue the bloody things, don’t they?”

“Of course they do!” Zip Line snapped. “But I needed the batteries for something else and they… kind of went flat.”

I rolled my eyes and began to dig. “What was so important you used your torch batteries for it?” I asked, heaving another shovel full out of the hole.

“Well…”

“Come on now, I promise I won’t tell.”

Zip Line sighed. “My straighteners.”

“Huh?” I paused and looked up at her. “What, for your mane and tail?”

“Of course for my mane and tail!” Zip Line snorted and flopped onto her haunches, crossing her forelegs in a huff. “You stallions don’t know how good you’ve got it. Mares have to look good when they go out you know. And it’s not easy either.”

“You don’t have to make yourself look good,” I said, wiping the sweat from my brow. “That’s a choice, not a requirement.”

“Easy for you to say!” Zip Line nickered. “A quick wash, brush your hair, shirt and tie, and voilà! All done. Not so for a lady like myself you know. I have to watch what shampoos I use, what soaps, hoof oils, conditioners, curlers, straighteners-”

“Kitchen sink...”

“-kitchen… hey! It’s not funny!”

“I never said it was!” I barked out a laugh and dodged an incoming swipe. “Sorry! Sorry!” I laughed. “I’m just teasing. Anyway, we’re done.” I climbed out of the hole. “Give me a hoof with this, Zippy.”

“Ew!” She closed her eyes, sighed, and then reached over to help me untie the old shower curtain and slide the bones into the shallow grave. “So… what now?”

I took a deep breath, leaning the spade against the tree. “We give him a burial as best we can,” I said honestly. “If that doesn’t work… Well, plan B I suppose.”

Carefully we arranged the bones and sprinkled the soil back over them until they were completely covered by a mound of the rich, dark earth. Throughout it all the glinting green eyes of the cat watched us. Every movement. Every shovel of earth. Until it was done. I moved away and motioned Zip Line to stand beside me. Carefully I sat down on my haunches and looked up at the sky. The moon was out now, and as beautiful as it had ever been. In this light I didn’t need the magical flame and so released my grip upon it, sending us into the wan light of the goddess’s moon.

“Luna,” I began. “Goddess of the moon, Princess of the night, and mother of our dreams. Hear my prayer. Here lies the mortal remains of your departed son, Hedgerow. We know very little about him, only that he was a good stallion, and one who took great joy in all things that grow beneath your loving radiance. He had dwelt here in darkness and in fear, far away from your light and guidance, lost in a world not of his making. We ask you now, dear mother, to take your son home. Show him the way to the eternal love of the herd, to those who will mend his heart and help him find a new home, a new place, in the safety and joy of those who have gone before.” I took a breath. “Blessed goddess, take unto your side on this night the soul of Hedgerow, son of Equestria. Blessed be thy name, Luna, my goddess of the moon.”

Silence fell.

“That was very moving,” Zip Line said quietly. “I don’t know if it worked, but I think… I think anypony would have found your words genuinely touching.”

“Yeah...” I smiled sadly, “I hope you’re right.”

“Guess we’d better go and see whether our boy has moved on then.” Zip Line stood up, brushing the loose earth from her legs. “I haven’t heard Luna referred to as ‘Goddess of the Moon’ for a long time, Corny. Have you, you know, had to do this before?”

“Too many times,” I said grimly. “When you bury your brothers and sisters on the field there’s not often time for the luxury of a priest. I think though, that it’s enough that you remember them in your heart, and say your farewells through your deeds more than words.”

“Very profound.” Zip Line shivered and looked up at the moon. “Goddess of the moon, eh? Can’t say that I ever...”

“Ever what?” I turned round to see Zip Line standing as still as a stone, her eyes glinting in shock and her mouth twitching.

“N...N….Nightm… m… Nightmare Moon!”

“Not quite.” A pair of deep azure eyes gleamed in the darkness as the owner approached, settling her wings by her side. The mare walked past us both to stand by the grave, her cutie mark clear even here. “Hedgerow...”

I bowed, bumping Zip Line out of her shock to do the same. “Your Majesty.”

Princess Luna nodded slowly and turned to face us. “It pleases us to see thee again, Lord Fairlight.”

I reached out and took her hoof for light kiss. “As it pleases me to see you again, my lady.”

“And who is this?”

“Z… Z… Zip… Zip Line. Y… Your majesty!” Zip Line gabbled.

“I see.” The princess looked us both up and down, noting the pile of armour. “You have joined the royal guard I see.”

I nodded, “Yes, your majesty.”

“I see.” Princess Luna leaned her head to one side, checking to make sure Zip Line couldn’t hear us. “Fairlight, how have you been? I heard what happened in Smiling Borders and I arrived as soon as I could.” She hung her head sadly. “There was… nothing I could do. Nothing any of us could do.”

“I understand, your majesty.” I gave her a smile. “Are my family well?”

“They are,” Luna said quietly. “The village is doing well, and more come every day.”

“More?” I frowned in thought. “But-”

“These are things for another time, Fairlight.” The princess motioned towards Zip Line who was stood watching intently nearby. “For now, I can only say that your loved ones are safe and the tribe prospers.”

“But-”

“I know you have questions, and I wish I could answer them,” the princess explained, “but the longer I stay here the more chance I have of father discovering our conversation.” Luna closed her eyes and smiled grimly.

“Your father?” I asked.

“Father does not like Celestia or I… ‘interfering’ in the affairs of his domain – the eternal herd.” Luna shrugged demurely. “But tonight, I have made an exception.”

I glanced at Zip Line, keeping my voice low. “How did you know I was here?”

“I am the princess of the night remember?” Luna said gently. “I can see the dreams of all of my children, and although I may not always answer, I hear every heartfelt prayer.” She gazed at the grave. “Poor Hedgerow. Such a sad and frightening way to die.”

“But why was he left here, tethered to this world?” I asked.

Luna shook her head, letting the night breeze catch her starry mane. “I don’t have the answers to everything, dear Fairlight. As much as you appear to believe I do.” She rolled her shoulders and glanced up at the moon. “It is time for me to leave. Go speak to Hedgerow, the poison has left his soul. He will go with you now.”

“Won’t you come with us to speak to him?” I asked. “He’s more likely to listen to you than us.”

Luna shook her head, “Remember, Fairlight, I cannot interfere in the world of my father. Souls, death, and the afterlife, are all things that belong to him, and my mother. I only came to speak to you and to place my blessings upon Hedgerow to help him on his way to the herd. For now, my dear Lord Fairlight, we must part. May the gods be with you. Both of you.” She nodded to Zip Line who babbled something incomprehensible before kissing me on the forehead. “Fare thee well.”

I bowed respectfully, “Farewell, my lady.”

And with that and a single sweep on her magnificent midnight wings, the princess of the night flew effortlessly into the night sky, and was gone.

“That was… That was Luna! Princess Luna!” Zip Line breathed, staring after the princess. “I don’t believe it!”

“And I suggest this is never mentioned in any report either,” I replied levelly. “Princess Luna would not be happy.”

“No! No… My lips are sealed, mum’s the word, and...” She frowned at me suddenly. “I think we have a lot to talk about later.”

“Later,” I agreed. “For now we’d better get master Hedgerow on his way. Luna said that the poison has been purged from his soul, so now it should plain sailing. Hopefully.”

“Ha! You heard the old sod earlier,” Zip Line huffed. “He’s obsessed with his garden.”

I shrugged, “I know, but let me have a shot at it. Please?”

“Sure, why not? It’s not like I’ve been much help so far is it? So much for being the experienced one!” Zip Line snorted. “I’ve mucked the whole job up from start to bloody finish and ruined everything.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked in surprise. “We’re a team.”

“Yeah, and I was supposed to be training you and supporting you on your first mission,” Zip Line replied. “If it wasn’t for you I would have been back at the herd reporting our failure.”

I closed my eyes and shook my head. I knew where she was coming from, but I needed to keep her positive. “Zippy, I was in the watch,” I explained. “Investigations were what I did all day, five days a week. Bloody hell, all I did was take a guess that looking in Hedgerow’s room might give us an idea of what to do and nearly got us both killed in the process. We got lucky, that was all. If it wasn’t for you I wouldn’t have had a clue what do to in the first place, and that Lemur thing could have killed me. Not to mention the fact that you saved my bacon when I flew out the window, so don’t run yourself down again, okay?”

“Humph! Okay...” She suddenly jabbed me in chest, “Now put your armour on and let’s finish our job. And I can assure you, Mister Corn Bread, that we will be talking more later. Okay?”

I nodded, “Understood.”

With help from my comrade I clipped on the last of my armour, but it sure as hell wasn’t easy. It had more dents in it now than I cared to imagine and was pushing in against my side where I’d slammed into the tool shed roof. Unfortunately that only served to remind me that I hadn’t healed quite as well as I thought I had. Still, a little pushing and pulling sorted that out the best we could, and it would do until we could get back to the barracks for a proper repair. And a cup of tea; I was parched. The taste of burnt wood haunted my nostrils and throat horribly, and I couldn’t even begin to imagine the dreadful fate that poor Hedgerow had endured, trapped in his bathroom refuge as the fire raged around him. I gave myself a hard shake, pushing the frightening imagery away and looked back at the cat who was watching me with his baleful green eyes. He knew. Somehow I could tell that somewhere in that feline mind, the odd little creature knew exactly what had occurred. Zip Line and I walked over to the surreal sight of the little bubble of sunshine surrounded by the darkness of night once again.

“Well, over to you Captain.” Zip Line held out a hoof. “Go do your thing.”

Sarcasm notwithstanding, I gave my colleague a polite nod and walked into the sunlight of Hedgerow’s world. Inside, the scent of flowers and rich earth assailed me once more. It was, in its own particular way, a little slice of heaven that Hedgerow had made for himself here. He was stood very much as he had been when I first saw him, watering his blooms and carefully checking each one with a faint smile on his face. He loved his garden, and it was this love that was as much an anchor to this world as his bones in a way. I sighed and looked down at my armour. I knew what to do. Slowly and carefully I began to remove the armour I’d painstaking put back on, shrugging out of it and placing it to one side. I could almost hear the protests of Zip Line outside this tiny world raging at me for ‘not following protocol’ or some such nonsense. Anyway, my mind was made up. I picked up a small dibber from his tool trolley and walked over to one of the unplanted beds. Carefully, respectfully, I took one of the small flowers from the trolley and lowered it into the hole I’d made, brushing the earth around it and packing it down gently.

Hedgerow lifted an eyebrow but didn’t look up from his work. “Yer ‘ere again oi see.”

“Aye.”

“You that thar feller from orlier?” he asked in his west country drawl.

I nodded, “I am, aye.”

“Where’s yor lass then?”

“She’s waiting,” I said politely. I took another of the flowers from the trolley. “These are snapdragons aren’t they?”

“Aye.” Hedgerow put down his watering can and watched me curiously. “You be a gardnin’ fella then?”

I smiled. “I’ll confess I only started recently. I have a little cottage with my wife and daughter. The sun bathes the garden in the morning where I’ve planted carnations, roses, gardenias, and some lupins.”

“Lupins?” Hedgerow frowned in thought for a moment. “Can take o’er yer garden if yer not careful.”

“I know,” I replied softly, “but the colours complement the garden and brighten it as much as the sun.”

“Good fer’t soil yer know.”

“Aye. I thought I may plant some marrows and a pear tree next next year too.”

“A pear tree, eh?” Hedgerow put his watering can down and chuckled under his breath. “Moi Hatty and oi planted that tree thar yer know.” He motioned over to where we’d buried his pitiful remains. “Oi looked arftur it all these years. Looked arftur the beds too, but younger folks… well, they aint so keen on gardnin’. Let the whole lart go ter seed, bloody ‘ooligans.”

“You’ve done a wonderful job, Hedgerow,” I observed honestly. “The garden looks beautiful.”

“Aye… as much as what oi can see, I ‘spose.” He looked down at the cat winding itself around his legs. “’ello Poppy.” The old stallion smiled, “Arftur Hatty passed on there were only li’l Poppy to keeps me comp’ny. Poor lil moit. Oi never faand aat what ‘appened to ‘er. Not arftur… thart ‘appened.”

“She helped us find you,” I replied, “In the bathroom.” I hung my head a moment, trying to keep my bubbling emotions at bay. “She’s an amazing animal.”

“Aye, she is thart.” The orange stallion leaned down and tickled the cat under the chin, eliciting a happy chirrup and purr from the happy feline. I stood and watched, letting Hedgerow find his own time, his own way. Eventually the cat moved away and started to wash himself. Or herself. I guessed ‘Poppy’ was a girls name after all. “Oi guess you’se ‘ave come fer me then.”

“We’d like to bring you home, Hedgerow,” I said gently. “I’m not here to force you to do anything you don’t to do though.”

“Yer naht?” he asked. “Then what, oi can stay ‘ere can oi?”

I closed my eyes and said nothing.

“No, oi ‘spect naht.” Hedgerow sighed and looked down at Poppy. “Don’t think moi Hatty would be none too pleased ter foind me stoppin ‘ere f’rever, eh?” He suddenly barked out a laugh. “You know, young’n, oi think you may be roit. Oive been ‘ere fer longer than oi kin recall. Oi guessed oi was just sort’ a… forgotten, oi ‘spose.”

“You weren’t forgotten, Hedgerow,” I said gently. “It just took a long time to come and bring you home. Far too long. I’m sorry.”

“Oh, don’t you be sorry, young’n! Oi’m the auld fart ‘oo stopped ‘ere tendin’ the same flowers day arftur day.” Hedgerow laughed, his deep throaty mirth making the sunlight seem so much brighter. “Come orn lad. Let’s be getting me on me way, eh?”

I chuckled, holding out my hoof to him and nodded to Zip Line who trotted up to us.

“All set?” she asked.

I picked up my armour, put my helmet on my head, and nodded. “Ready, Hedgerow?”

The old stallion peered back at his blooms one last time. He looked sad, and yet at the same time, relieved. “Maybe it be toim to staart again ‘eh?”

“And you’ll have all the time in the world to make your dreams come true,” I smiled. “All the time in the world.”

A hoof tapped me on the shoulder. “Speaking of which, it’s time.”

Hedgerow, Zip Line and I stared up at the shimmering silver oval of magic hanging in the air before us. Together, the three of us walked foward into the world of the eternal herd where I prayed Hedgerow would be able to find the peace he should have had so long ago. I closed my eyes and felt the slight shiver of magic as we left the world of the living and, just as we did, I felt the oddest feeling that something was sitting on my back - Something warm, furry, and… purring. You know, I think Hedgerow was going to be just fine.

Chapter Seven - New Life

CHAPTER SEVEN

NEW LIFE

I sank with a heartfelt groan into the steaming water. The royal guard had an amazing bath house alright. Clean, well maintained, and always kept at the perfect temperature, I could feel the tension in my body simply melting away, replaced in its stead with pure, unadulterated relaxation. It didn’t get any better than this. I suppose that all in all my first mission had been a complete success. It may not have gone according to plan of course, but ‘adapt and improvise’ as my old tutor in the watch had always said. And we had. When we arrived through the portal, Hedgerow had been met by his tearful wife, Hatty, and both they and their hitchhiking cat, Poppy, had toddled off into the sunset together. As for myself I’d dropped off my armour with the very unhappy looking armourer, put my tunic and cloak in for washing, had a shower, and was now enjoying the fruits of my labour. Yes, both Zip Line and I had done a damned good job today. Speaking of whom, I wondered where she’d disappeared off to? I’d expected some level of debriefing for us both, but by the looks of things the royal guard was surprisingly lacking in that kind of protocol. Heaven forbid they actually trusted you to do your job without persistent monitoring! I chuckled to myself and let my body float up to the surface, closing my eyes in absolute bliss. No, here I had the impression the guard recruited ponies who already knew their stuff. They gave them a mission, and took the approach that they were perfectly capable of figuring out the rest themselves. A bit strange if you asked me, but it seemed to work. After a fashion. I still couldn’t believe we’d gone out there with so little information though. Surely there had to be some checks and balances in place, right? I mean, what would happen if a team went out there and actually failed to bring back the soul? What was going to happen then? I sighed; I still had a lot to learn about my new home from home. And on the subject of home… Oh, Celestia, I’d better get out and face the music, hadn’t I? Just, after a few more minutes here. Goddesses, the water was so warm…

“I’ve had it with these bucking cretins! HAD IT!”

The shouts of outrage made me jump, which is not exactly the best thing to do when you’re drifting in the middle of a bath, and I nearly choked on a mouthful of water. A stream of expletives followed from the area of the changing room and was, rather thankfully, drowned out by the sound of the shower. Despite the echoing quality of the bathroom area it was all too clear who the shouting was coming from. If I’d had any sense I would have gotten out right then and there, dried off, and escaped as soon I’d recognised the voice. But no, being the sort of muggins that I am I decided to wait in the bath for the inevitable. And a few minutes later, in she came…

“I wondered if you’d be here.” Zip Line sank into the water and let out a sigh. “Lousy, rotten, corrupt, useless...” Her words bubbled under the water with her muzzle before bursting out once more, “Damn it! I can’t enjoy a bath when I’m in a state. Buck it all! I’m going back for another shower.”

“Zippy? What’s happened?” I leaned against the side of the bath and smiled up at her with what I hoped was a reassuring expression. “Where’ve you been?”

“I’ll tell you where I’ve been, I‘ve been speaking to that horse’s arse, Argo,” came the reply. “You remember? The arsehole of an officer who is ‘supposed’ to be in charge of operations? Ha! My hoof he is!”

“Argo seems to be quite a decent sort to me,” I replied honestly.

“Yes… yes he would, wouldn’t he,” Zip Line snorted. “Senior officer and all that, what with you being a Captain and all, right?”

“Wrong.” I rose up and fixed her with a stare. “I’m not like that at all, Zip Line. I don’t give a toss what rank somepony is, nor do I have any time nor care for the kind of cack-hoofed management that can put their teams safety at risk. If somepony has messed up here then they need to be told. No ifs, no buts, no pussyfooting around. But don’t ever, ever, lump me in with that lot. Okay?”

The black and white mare watched me with her large blue eyes. What she was thinking, I had no idea. Those searching orbs were seeing something, or looking for something, but whether she liked what she saw, who could say. If she knew me, truly knew me, she would run from this place as though the keeper of the underworld himself were biting at her ankles. And she would be right to do so. Mercifully for us both she kept her peace and turned back to stalking around the edge of the bath, leaving me to resume my now not so relaxing soak. I knew so little about mares, and those I did know I always seemed to end up making miserable. Meadow, Shadow, Tingles - every one of them a mare I loved, and every one of them had suffered because of me. I was a fool, a gambler of lives, and a puppet of the gods. I was under no illusion that I had any true say in my destiny. Time and experience had shown me that no matter what choices I made, no matter how hard I fought and railed against the world, it was already planned out one careful hoof before the other. The murder of my family, my unholy blending with the Wither World spirit, even the fight with the changelings. Everything, all of it right down to the very finest of details, was all pre-ordained. Fated. Woven out into a tapestry on the dark mare’s loom like so much cloth. My view of the world was based upon need, for me and my family. But what use was a lord without a home to rule? I was the lord of the four winds, the lord of an empire of no more than snow, rocks and ice. A lord who was no longer in the land of the living was a lord no more. I was the lord of nothing. And for me, for Fairlight Loam… the thread had run out long ago.

I pulled myself from the comforting embrace of the water and dried off before putting on my off duty tunic and cloak. My own clothes I had packed in a pannier along with my self esteem. I hadn’t felt like this in some time, and facing the reality of my situation was something I didn’t relish one little bit. I brushed my teeth and stared into the mirror at the brown eyed creature peering back at me. Gone were the scars, the bright blue eyes that glowed with an inner light that made so many back away from me in fear, and as for my cutie mark… yeah. The strange lightning flash that I’d become so accustomed to was now the same old one that I’d been ‘blessed with’ when I was a mere colt. ‘Give us a clue’ eh? Ha! How right she’d been too. I looked like the old me, the young me, yet inside, deep down in the very core of my being, was something I couldn’t quite put my hoof on. It was hard to describe in words, but was akin to an echo, or a memory of the Fairlight I became, locked away and resisting any attempt to bring it to the fore. In some ways I was afraid of it, terrified of becoming the monstrous creature I would change into when I channelled the magic of the wendigo and letting my anger, my fury at the world, have full rein once more. In other ways, guilty ways, I longed for it, to let it absorb me, to consume me, to become the lord or the four winds once more and fly high over the mountains singing the song of war, to smite my enemies and scream the cry of the northern winters out to the farthest corners of Equestria.

“Dear goddess...” I leaned my hoof against the mirror and hung my head as despair threatened to take me into that darkest of places, just as it had so many times before. “Who am I?”

“That’s what I’d like to know.”

I didn’t look up. I knew that voice and I didn’t want to have a conversation with her right now. Not now. “Zip… please.”

“Please what?” Zip Line continued adjusting her wings beside me as she spoke. “Don’t ask you who you really are?” She sniffed, “I heard what the princess called you. Fairlight.”

“What does it matter?” I said wearily. “There are a lot of ponies here who don’t divulge their past, or their true names.”

“I think it matters when we’re a team,” Zip Line said. “It’s about trust, bonding, brotherhood, and all that army stuff the higher ups pumped into us when we were in the land of the living. As much I can’t stand a lot of that tripe, some of it still holds true. And honesty, is one of them.”

“Even when you’ve hardly known me five minutes?” I asked. “Forgive me, but I don’t know you well enough to start spewing out my innermost secrets to a stranger.”

“A stranger?!” Zip Line balked. “We went through a bloody nightmare back there together, Corny, or Fairlight, or whatever the hell you want to call yourself. And in the middle of it, up pops one of the princesses like she’s your best mate or something, and you expect me to act as though that’s perfectly normal, right? The ‘goddess of the moon’ as you called her means something here my grey friend, don’t you realise that?”

“No.” I moved away from the sink and adjusted my gear. “A name is just a name.”

“No it’s not!” the black mare hissed. “The ‘goddess of the moon’, or ‘moon goddess’, was what the children of the night called her! And… and those other things too.”

“‘Other’ things?” I asked.

The mare nodded. “Yeah, the… the wendy-wotsits and those walking bone bags. Thestrals or something.”

I’d had enough of this. “Zip Line, what do you want from me?” I asked testily. “We went on a mission together and we worked well as a team. That’s all there is to it. Please, don’t push this, okay? Not now.”

“But-”

“But nothing!” I snapped. “Listen, we… we can talk another time, okay? Just... not tonight. Please.”

Zip Line neighed quietly and flicked her tail in irritation. In truth I expected her to yell at me or storm out. Instead she gave a look that made my heart throb with regret at how I’d spoken to her. “Corny, I’m sorry.” She turned away, asking, “I’m going to the bar. Do want to come and have a drink with me?”

I closed my eyes. “I’m sorry, Zippy. I have to go home.”

“I see...” she shrugged. “Guess I’ll see you tomorrow then. Have a safe trip home.”

“Goodnight.” I lifted my hoof to wave but she’d already left.

Fantastic, another hurt mare to add to the list. Luna’s fetlocks, what was it with me? And why the hell had they teamed me up with a mare in the first place? At least with guys you didn’t have all those emotions to deal with. Most of the time. A stallion was more likely to tell you to piss off rather than go into the emotional explorations of your innermost psyche which a lot of the mares I’d met had a penchant for. But… was I being entirely fair? Gods damn it! I had to stop thinking like this or I’d drive myself to insanity before I knew it. And now I felt like a gin and tonic for some reason! Sod it… should I? No. Bugger it all, I’d have to go home and face the music with Meadow. If she didn’t slam the door in my face first of course. I groaned and trotted out to the front desk where I signed myself out for the evening. Oblivious to my internal conflicts the desk officer just waved a hoof at me, far more interested in reading his novel than keeping a check on the comings and goings of the guard. It was time to go home now in any case, and see what delights awaited me when I grovelled my way in through the front door.

The journey back was typically uneventful. It was dark, cool, and full of the sounds of the night that you became used to living in the countryside. In the distance a fox called, echoed by the song of a night jay. A bat flew crazily overhead on its journey to wherever, no doubt plucking some tasty moths out of the sky on its way. I envied the tiny thing its simple life. It had no worries save catching a meal on the wing to cause it concern, and certainly none of the troubles I had, many of which I would have to admit were of my own making. But what could I do to put things right? I didn’t know, but apologising was a good start. After that… who could say. I was so wrapped up in my melancholic thoughts that I nearly walked into the hedge when I reached home. Strange… The cottage was in complete darkness, with not even the lamp in the hallway burning to help me find the door. I tried the handle - it was locked. Meadow must have gone to bed early. I leaned down and moved the strategically placed plant pot to retrieve the spare key. At least that was still there. Magicking up my flame to help me locate the lock I inserted the key, and turned it. The door opened smoothly and quietly, thanks to my diligent oiling of all things hinge related, and I let myself in, careful not to wake anypony up. The first thing that hit though was the cold - it was freezing in here! I quickly lit the lamp in the hallway and walked into the kitchen. A cup of tea would hit the spot, and go at least some way to warming me up. It was unusual to find the house so cold though. Meadow and Sparrow must have gone to bed really early for it to be this chilly, unless they’d simply not bothered lighting the fire. I glanced up at the clock: it was twenty past eleven already. Good goddesses, I hadn’t realised how late it was! I put the kettle on the stove and soon had a small fire going to boil the water. The stove had been stone cold; something quite unusual in itself. Normally the thing was kept lit to help provide hot water to heat the rooms, water for washing, baths, and our daily showers. To find it this cold made my mane twitch. Something was wrong here... very wrong. A sudden flash of memory seared through my mind, a memory of a grinning yellow stallion with a greasy black mane leaning over… I gave myself a shake and snorted loudly, shattering the vile memory back into the depths from whence it came. I looked around the kitchen at the beautiful place my beloved wife and I had built together. The plate racks made of oak, the weathered table in the centre of the room, and even the cupboards. Everything was neat, clean, and looked like I would expect. Only… empty. I ran my hoof over the table, past the cruet set, the empty fruit bowl, and the piece of folded paper sitting inside it. My heart lurched in my chest. I closed my eyes for a moment and listened to the ticking of the clock, the water starting to boil in the kettle, and my thundering heart. Carefully, I unfolded the paper and immediately recognised Meadow’s neat, flowing hoof writing.

Fairlight,

Gone to stay with Mum for a few days.

Meadow.

And that was that. No ‘love’, not even an ‘x’ after the name. What wasn’t said in the painfully short missive was how long she was going to be away for. Nor how angry or hurt she was. That much was all too clear already and cut me to the very core. I put the note away and turned to stare at the steam coming from the kettle. So… she’d left me. I shouldn’t be surprised, should I? Sure, it was only for a ‘few days’, but I’d hurt her more than I’d ever done before. I closed my eyes as a shiver ran through my body, sending a shock of cold and bitter pain into my heart. I loved her. I loved my wife and daughter so, so much, and yet I’d hurt them once again. It didn’t matter that I was in the herd, sunning myself beneath a perfect sky on one of the endless, perfect days. I had failed her. Failed all of them. I took the kettle off the stove and damped down the fire. I couldn’t stomach a cup of tea now anyway.

I walked around the house in a daze, taking in the paintings on the walls, the clock, the bathroom, the dining room, lounge… all of it. It was dark, cold and empty. There was nothing here now. No Meadow, no Sparrow, no love, light and laughter, that together changed what would normally be a simple building into a home where a family were protected, and just as importantly, cared for one another. Goddess forgive me. I collected my panniers from the back of the chair and settled them onto my back. I didn’t want to stay here now. Without Meadow and Sparrow it felt like I didn’t belong here any more. Was I being foolish? Perhaps. Selfish? Probably. I’d never pretended to be perfect. I was who I was, and I wasn’t even sure of that now. Not now. I let out a loud sigh and rubbed my face with my foreleg. I felt terrible. With leaden hooves I dragged my miserable carcase to the door and took one last look into the darkness. Home… My home. Our home. And I had destroyed it all with my cursed diseased mind. Goddesses above, you had to laugh! The door closed behind me with a hollow thump, the lock clicking into place as I slid the spare key back under the plant pot. Perhaps one day love would bloom here once again, but tonight... I had to get away from here. And there was only one place I knew I could go.

******************

“Hey! Look who it is!”

“Dunno, ‘oo is ‘e?”

“It’s our new boy, Corny, you muppet!” The black mare waved a hoof at me enthusiastically. “Hoy, dreary lugs, come and have a pint with yer old mukka!”

The barracks tavern was in full swing. A band sat on the small stage playing a lively number incorporating a lute, some type of violin, and a drum, whilst a mare span round in a lithe flowing dress adding a tambourine to the number which had several inebriated patrons trying to join in. The girl drifted between them, nimbly avoiding the occasional drunkard fancying their chances at a quick grope. Good old drink. By the gods it really did bring out the worst in ponies. And by the same gods, did I need one right then…

“C’mon, c’mon, getcha raggedy arse down in that chair my fine stallion.” Zip Line’s eyes were unfocussed and she hiccuped loudly, “Oops! Better get that one sorted...” I’ve never seen a mare sink a full mug of ale in one draught so fast in my life, but by thunder she made it look so easy! “Hoy, barkeep, another round!” Zip Line already had a number of full mugs on the table but wasn’t reserved about sharing. “We’re on...” She frowned in thought. “Fret, what the hell are we drinkin’ ‘ere?”

The carrot coloured stallion with green eyes and a yellow and green striped mane whom I’d seen burping in time to the music when I’d first walked in, shrugged, “Buggered if I know. Goat Face’s Old Piss, I reckon.”

“Ha, ha! Now that’s what I’m taking about!” Zip Line waved a hoof at me, a stupid grin plastered over her face. “There ya go, Corny, get that down yer neck.” She burped loudly, “Another flagon of goat piss for me old matey boy ‘ere!”

“This fella. This, this ‘Corny’ bloke. E’ the one you been goin’ on about?” the carrot coloured stallion asked in a belching spray of beer. “’E looks a bit… grey. Yeah, like a pissin’ cloud ‘o gloom ‘e does!”

“That’s ‘cos ‘e ‘asn’t ‘ad enough beer yet, you dong.” Zip Line bopped her empty mug on the stallion’s muzzle before turning her attention on me. “Don’t you pay no attention to Fret Board ‘ere, Corn… Corny. He’s… urp -fit shaced.” She swallowed a grin along with a fresh mug of beer. “He wouldn’t ‘urt a fly, would ya, Fretty?”

“Nah.” Fret Board clopped the rump of a passing barmaid who shot him a look that would have withered me. “Eh, Corny, you got a missus?” he asked.

I nodded, taking a swig of my own beer. “Aye. Wife and… kids.”

“’Ad to think about that one, didn’t ‘e Zippy?!” Fret burst out laughing. “’Ow’s was yer first day then lad? Ole Zip keep yer in line did she?”

“She did,” I replied with a smile. I scooted the bowl of peanuts over and took a hoofful of the salty things, munching them down as fast as I could cram them in. How come they always tasted best when you were drinking? Normally I couldn’t abide the bloody things as a rule. Right now though they were like the food of the gods themselves. “She’s a good teacher,” I offered.

“Uh-huh, I bet she is!” Fret chuckled and gave Zip Line a wink. “There’s a few ‘ood like a few lessons from ‘er alright.”

Good grief! Ignoring the suggestive comment I finished off my beer and started in on the next in the seemingly endless line up. ‘Goat Piss’ or not it was good too, and before I knew it the next one had disappeared.

“Cor, you can put ‘em away mate!” Zip Line belched in my ear, sending a blast of beery breath over my muzzle. “You’ll be catchin’ up to me soon. I’d better ‘ave anoth… another...” The black mare flopped onto the table and, to my amazement, actually started snoring!

“Huh, lightweight.” Fret gave me a wink. “Come on then, tell us. D’ya fancy ‘er or wot?”

“Who, Zippy?” I felt a chuckle escape my lips. “She’s cute, but I’m a married stallion.”

“Bah! What the eye don’t see is what I say.” The drunken old salt leaned across to me conspiratorially. “Look ‘ere lad. If’n yer don’t have a dally now an’ again, yer old pecka will likelys shrivel up. You get me?”

I nodded, “I get you.”

“So, go on then!” he announced, leaning back in his chair. “Get yerself in there!”

I laughed his behaviour off with another mug beer, wielding the thing like a shield against the bad breath that emanated from the old soak like a fog. “Maybe later,” I joked. “When she’s sobered up.”

“Oh, come on, son.” The stallion threw up his forehooves. “Give ‘er a tickle or two an’ she’ll be putty in yer ‘ooves. Don’t you worry, I know Zip Line and she’s a gal of the world, she is. Gal of the...” He took a breath and shrugged. “Yeah...”

“Yeah.” I stared into my beer before chugging it back. Fret seemed like a raving pervert to me, but it was clear the two ponies sat with me knew each other well, so who was I to complain about the company a friend kept? Some of my own friends were boisterous to say the least, but not so much on this scale. Gods, I think I must be getting old when I miss sitting by the log fire sipping spirit berry brandy with Grimble, and even Heather the massive minotaur barmaid. Somehow I couldn't imagine anypony trying to grab her rear. It was be a bloodbath.

“What’s the joke?” Fret asked woozily.

“I was just thinking what it would be like having minotaurs as barmaids,” I laughed. “Don’t think they’d have any trouble getting through this mob.”

“Yer got that right!” Fret nodded furiously. “You ever met ‘em?”

“What, Minotaurs?” I asked. “Yeah, I’ve met a few.”

“Weird things is what they are,” the stallion nodded half to himself. “’alf bull, ‘alf summat else. ‘ad to tangle wiv ‘em a few times me self.”

“In the guard?” I asked.

“Nah.” Fret shook his head. “When we was with twelfth batt- urp- alion. Got in a scrape up nears Ponters Pike. Or sumfin, I forgets where.” He shrugged and took another swig. “Come at us all snortin’ and bellowin’ like. Eye’s like coal they were, all full o’hate an’ stuff.” He gave me a toothy grin. “Axe’s as big as an ‘ouses they ‘ad. Could cleave you in twain an’ not break a sweat neither.”

I leaned forward, fascinated. “Ponters Pike? Was that in the war with the Legion and Nightmare Moon?”

“Legion?” Fret barked out a thunderous laugh that had several other guards peering over at us. “No bloody Legion pussies there, boy! Nah, we was wif the real army. The army o’ the Golden Dawn!” I swallowed another mouthful of my beer and waggled my hoof to encourage him to carry on. “We was with the king and queen o’ the unicorn nation, y’see. We ‘ad magic, real magic, an’ we ‘ad some damned fine ossifers too. Damned fine! Urp!”

“I’ve never heard of the Golden Dawn,” I said honestly.

“You wouldn’t ‘ave lad, you wouldn’t ‘ave.” He shrugged sadly and sank another mugful of beer. “Long time ago that, see. Long time. Aye...”

“Hey, I love this tune! Come on Corny, come and have a dance with me!” I nearly choked as the now apparently completely sober Zip Line shot up from her seat like a cork from a bottle and grabbed me. “Let’s shake a tail my wendy-wotsit buddy.”

“Wendy-?” I groaned, “Zippy, please...”

“No use when she’s got ‘er ‘ead, boy,” Fret chuckled lasciviously. “You’ll find out. Aye… you’ll find out.”

Before I knew it I was half dragged, half carried by my own momentum, right into the centre of what was a chaos of hooves, tossing heads, and neighing off duty guards. The music was a riot of flute, drum and tambourine, all blending into a whirling maelstrom of life that I hadn’t felt in an age. Like the beer it was completely intoxicating, and I quickly found myself drunkenly flailing around with the black coated mare and acting like some hormonally driven colt. And it felt good… It felt really good!

“Having a good time?” Zip Line laughed.

“Hell yeah!” I shouted.

I span, bumped rumps with her, and laughed aloud with the sheer joy of it all. Sure, why couldn’t I enjoy myself? I’d been through a mission with my new partner and we’d saved a pony’s soul from an end that was quite literally unthinkable. After all that why the hell shouldn’t I let my mane down and enjoy a dance? Right then, lost in the rapture of the driving musical tempest, laughing and dancing, my troubles were the last thing on my mind. Things would work themselves out somehow. One way or another, they always did. And so Zip Line and I let ourselves flow with the beat of the drum, swinging, stomping, and shouting out our sheer love of life. Herd or no herd, this was how a pony was supposed to live: singing, dancing, and enjoying the company of others, not fighting and struggling for a populace that barely even noticed you existed. But for those whose duty was to protect them, for those of us who saw dedication, loyalty and self sacrifice as their calling, this, all of this, was what made it all worthwhile.

Finally, spent and utterly exhausted, I flopped against the bar breathing hard. Zip Line collapsed next to me, her eyes burning like blue fires in the darkness. “You okay?” she breathed.

I nodded weakly. “I am. Don’t know about you though!”

She shoved me playfully, panting to get her breath back. “Hey, you don’t dance too badly for a dead guy.”

“You don’t yourself,” I joked, “for a dead mare.”

Zip Line laughed, “Pfff! Dead on my hooves you mean. Sod it, fancy another?”

Strangely enough, I did. “Yeah, why the hell not. Think I’ll have a rum and cola for a change.”

“Ooh! Hard stuff now is it?” she laughed.

“Nah, just reaching the fill level.” I frowned in thought for a moment. “Come to think of it, I’d better use the little colts room.”

“Out the door and the bogs are on your left.”

“You’ll do for me squire!” I clopped her on the shoulder. “Keep an eye on my drink ‘til I get back, Zippy, yeah?”

“Sure. See you in a min.”

Ah, what a night! The fresh breeze was deliciously cooling against my hide and brought a smile to my face as well as a spring in my step. Before I knew it the old soldiers song I remembered from listening to the old gang in the Wyvern’s Tail flowed from me as well as you could imagine from an alcohol soaked stallion on his way to the latrine.

Oh, I knew a pony his name was Red,
he had five legs and a purple head.
The girls all cried went he to town,
“What’s that long thing dragging on the ground?!”

Oh, Red, Red, fearless in bed. The five legged pony with a purple head!

Oh, that’s my fifth leg, said the soldier bold,
It gets like that when it’s feeling cold.
It shrivels up when I’m in the tub,
But jumps right up when it gets a rub!

Oh, Red, Red, fearless in bed. The five legged pony with a purple head.

Oh, the maidens vied to obtain this prize,
A great big beast of enormous size.
It grew and grew from between his thighs,
the soldiers leg that could split the sky!

Oh, Red, Red, fearless in bed, the married ones whinny when they see his head!

“Whoops!” I’d inadvertently collided with a dark coloured stallion who was leaving the latrine. “Sorry ‘bout that, mate.”

The fellow frowned angrily, brushing the front of his uniform like I’d contaminated him or something. “Tch! Watch where you’re going, stallion.” He leaned towards me, his deep yellow eyes staring into mine curiously. “Who are you? I don’t recognise you.”

“Fa-” I leaned back and shook my head and, foolishly, my hoof too. “Nope! No, the name’s… um...”

“You can’t even remember your own name?” The stallion’s eye’s grew wide with amazement. I couldn’t blame him I suppose. I was a mess.

“No! Yes!” I stammered, trying to catch the elusive memory as it slipped from my mental grasp. “I mean… I’m trying, I just can’t...”

“Well it’s no wonder you can’t,” the stallion snorted, “you reek of drink.”

“Now I say old boy,” I blathered happily, “You look like the kind of fellow who could make a flag pole look like it’s got brewers droop, so would mind awfully pissing off out of my way? One needs a piss, don’t you know.”

“Why you arrogant pup!” The stallion’s eyes narrowed dangerously as I moved to push past him. “Don’t you know who you’re talking to?”

“Well, let’s see...” I tapped my chin in thought. “Do you know who I am?”

“That’s what I’m trying to find out, you blithering idiot!” The chestnut-ish coloured fellow seemed quite agitated for some reason. And then, for whatever peculiar reason fate had decided to put it there, a song from the theatre suddenly popped into my mind as bright as day, with me standing there centre stage.

I nodded sagely before taking a deep breath and stood, a little shakily perhaps on my hind legs, and began:

“I am the very model of a modern Major-General.
I've information vegetable, animal, and mineral.
I know the Queens of Canterlot, and I quote the fights historical,
from Alesand to Zenidoo, in order categorical.”

“GUARDS!”

“I'm very well acquainted, too, with matters mathematical,
I understand equations, both the simple and quadratical,
About binomial theorem I'm teeming with a lot o' news,
With many cheerful facts about the square of the hypotenuse.”

“GUARDS! GUAARRDS!!”

“Hey! I haven’t finished yet!” Huffing loudly at this rude interruption to my rendition of the old classic I clucked tongue and tried again. “Bugger it, I can’t… aha! I’m very good at integral and differential calculus, I know the scientific name of being ani- ARGH!” Two hulking great guardstallions in full armour and sporting a couple of lethal… hang on… “It’s you guys!” I laughed. “Bog Brush!” I let out a raucous laugh that had ponies spilling out of the tavern. “Bet you two clean right round the rim, eh? Cor blimey!”

“What do you want us to do with him sir?” the hulking Bog asked.

“Take him to the-”

“Fairlight? What the hell’s taking you so long? Fai-” The mare’s voice died away in a strangled cough, “Oh, Shi...”

“Yes, Lieutenant?” the chestnut stallion asked. “You were going to say something?”

Zip Line snapped to attention in an instant. “No, sir.”

“Do you know this stallion?”

“Yes, sir. He’s the new recruit,” Zip said smartly. “We were on a mission today.”

“I know,” the stallion frowned. “I was there, remember? I had to wait thirty minutes while they recalibrated the portal because you and your drunken friend here wanted to get away early!” He waved a hoof at me. “I can see why, now! Look at the state of him!”

“I’ll take him back to the barracks immediately, sir,” Zip offered. “With your permission of course.”

“My permission? I should have you lashed for this!” The stallion turned to me in an absolute fury and froze mid-bellow, staring at me with his mouth hanging open like a comically surprised carp. “What… what in the name of all the gods is he doing now?!”

“I believe he’s singing a piece from the Mikado, sir. It played last month at the royal theatre,” Zip Line said helpfully.

“I CAN SEE THAT!”

I finished the first verse and leaned conspiratorially towards the incensed stallion. “Pssst. Look, I know that you’re really ossifering it up a storm right now, buddy, and that’s great, you know? Really great. I mean, you do you and all that, but seriously, can you do it later? I really need to go pee.”

The officer turned an impression shade of purple. “Take. Him. AWAY!”

“Everything is a source of fun,
Nobody's safe for we care for none.
Life is a joke that's just begu-un,
Three little maids from school!”
“Come on boys, altogether now!”
“Three little maids who, all unwary,
Come from a ladies' seminary,
Freed from its genius tutelary,
Three little maids from school,
Three little maiiids from school!”

The best part of the evening was the fact that the two lumps of meat either side of me added a superb double baritone to my ad-hoc performance. Behind me somepony began to clop their hooves in appreciation. I would have taken a bow of course, but my two escorts were a little impatient to whisk me away to my chambers for the evening. Besides, behind me my drinking friends were making their own music in the tavern which included the sound of broken glass and whistles. Ah, such good times! The cell door thumped shut with a clang.

“Bloody philistines.”

********************

My new abode didn’t quite live up to my exacting expectations as it turned out. It was certainly devoid of modern conveniences such as, say, a bathroom, shower, bath, decent hot food and so on and so forth. Nope, everything in my now very compact world consisted of bucket: one for the use of, bed: one for the sleeping of, and... that was about it really. Nothing to read, nothing to do, nothing but… well, sleep I suppose. And gods above, did I need it. I was just starting to drop off for the umpteenth time when the loud clattering of keys alerted me to the door being opened. I opened a bleary eye and gazed up into last pony I wanted to see right then.

“Didn’t take you long, did it?”

I closed my eyes and rolled over to face the wall. “Hello to you too, Pop.”

The green stallion sighed loudly, no doubt for my benefit. “I’d come to see how your first mission went, and instead of being at the tavern, I found you here.” There was a pause. “Like this.”

“Yeah,” I muttered. “Like this.” A thought, rather courageously I have to say, sallied forth from the alcohol and looming hangover inducing fuse I found myself in, demanding my attention. “How did you know I’d be at the tavern?”

“An educated guess,” Pop replied without any hint of detectable sarcasm. It was quite the impressive feat to be honest, considering the current situation.

“Yes… I’m sure it was,” I replied groggily. I opened my eyes and gave them a rub. Goddesses, they felt like they were full of sand – very course sand. “You knew I wouldn’t be at home.” I rolled over to face him. “And I expect you know why, too.”

Pop nodded, “You read the note, no doubt.” The dour green stallion let nothing slip in regards to how he felt about the matter, but then Pop had always been adept at hiding his emotions as I knew all too well. “Meadow...” He sighed. “Meadow doesn’t approve of what I did. I told them not to blame you of course, but you know what mares are like.”

“You’re in the dog house too, eh?” I surmised.

Apple Pop nodded, “Again.” He chuckled slightly, glancing around the small cell.

“I’d offer you a chair,” I said wearily, “but as you can see, the amenities in my boudoir are somewhat lacking of late.”

Apple Pop smiled that absent knowing smile of his that always used to infuriate me to the point of storming out of the room whenever the in-laws came to visit. I’d learned to live with it for the sake of peace, but it still rankled me nonetheless. “That was always something I liked about you, Fairlight,” he said, much to my surprise.

“Oh?” Now this was new!

“Your sense of humour,” he explained. “Ironic and cynical it may be, but I’ve noticed how you use it whenever something is troubling you or you’re in a corner. I like that.” Apple Pop raised an eyebrow. “If you can keep your head in a crisis you have a better chance of making it through in one piece.”

“Huh! It didn’t help with Meadow,” I replied bitterly.

Apple Pop simply nodded, “I know. But mares are mares and they have their ways. Stallions do too of course. We’re just a little lacking in the empathy and emotional areas.”

“I don’t think Meadow and Meringue would disagree with you on that point,” I offered.

“No. No, maybe not.” Apple Pop closed his eyes and smiled, “Anyway, I’ve had a word with Argo and he’s going to have you released in the morning.”

“And the charges?” I asked hopefully.

“None to face,” the old green stallion shrugged. “You just pissed off the wrong officer, that’s all.”

“Huh!” I squeezed my eyes shut and sat up with a groan. “Well, sod him. I don’t even know the smarmy get’s name. Bloody shiny arses - all piss and vinegar.”

“I can’t disagree with you there,” Pop said with a shrug. “Still, I would suggest avoiding Lieutenant Thalio for the-”

“What?!” Suddenly Pop had my full attention. “What did you say his name was again?”

“Lieutenant Velastro Thalio,” Pop said plainly. “You know who he is, don’t you?”

“Of course I bloody well do.” I spat on the floor angrily. “Buck it all! Why him of all stallions? Goddesses in their stinking heaven, that little rat is going to make my life hell here after this bollocks.”

“You do outrank him, Fairlight. Remember?”

“That doesn’t mean jack here, Pop,” I huffed, “and you know it.”

“To a degree,” Pop agreed quietly. “But what happened between you and him in the Wither World was not of your making. And what happened afterwards was out of your control anyway.”

“I know, but he won’t see it like that.” I groaned loudly, not just from the news but my now increasing headache. “He’s going to do everything he can to get back at me. I just know it.”

Apple Pop leaned over and clopped my on the shoulder, “Argo knows about you, Fairlight. So does the marshal too by the way, so I wouldn’t worry too much about our friend Thalio. Ponies like him always come a cropper sooner or later. We had a couple like him in the watch back in my day too. Arses and brown nosers the two of ‘em. One day, we got even, and got shot of them both.”

“And just how did you manage that?” I asked.

Pop shrugged, “I put dog shit in both their lockers and left a message on the bathroom mirror that the ‘guilty party’ would be in the chariot park that evening.”

“And what happened?”

“Ah, well. They both turned up and assumed the other fellow was the perpetrator,” Pop explained. “They were both so far up their own arses they didn’t stop to consider that the whole thing was a set up, and proceeded to kick seven bells out of each other. The old chief heard the commotion, looked out of his window, and saw the whole thing. Next morning he got the two of them transferred down country somewhere.”

“I can’t believe that worked!” I scoffed.

“Believe what you will, Fairlight.” Apple Pop stretched his shoulders and passed me a cup of water. “Sometimes even the most obvious answer can be overlooked because of pride and bull headedness.”

“A word from the wise?” I asked.

Pop shrugged, “You can take from it what you will. It’s your life. Death, rather.”

“Yeah, I get caught out on that too.” I swallowed the water which right then tasted like nectar from the gods. “Pop?”

“Yes?”

“I’ve really cocked things up with Meadow, you know.”

“I know,” Pop nodded slowly. “She’ll come round.”

“I hope so.” I leaned back on my pallet bed and stared up at the regulation whitewashed ceiling. “In the goddess’s name, I hope so.” A few minutes passed, maybe more, as Pop and I sat there in absolute silence, the two of us deep in contemplative thought. “Pop? What was going on earlier regarding the fountain festival? Everypony was up in arms about it.”

“Oh, that,” the old watchstallion huffed. “Honestly, Fairlight, I’ve never heard its like before. The royal palace was...” He closed his eyes, clearly struggling to say the word, “burgled.”

“Burgled?!” I tried to bit back my sudden burst of humour. “The gods were robbed?!”

“As much as you may find all of this highly amusing, Fairlight, I can assure you that nopony has ever, ever, robbed another pony in the eternal herd.” Pop’s distaste distorted his features. “Certainly not the royal family. To think that some… some filth out there did this is simply… unthinkable!”

“What was stolen?” I asked.

“Jewellery,” Pop said angrily. “A piece of the founding aether, formed back when the world was born. It’s a substance as rare as bottled joy from a happy yak.”

“But… why?” I asked, genuinely curious. “This is the eternal herd for Celestia’s sake. You can just imagine something up and Poof! There it is. Pretty much anyway. I haven’t got that far in the guide yet.”

“No...” Apple Pop shook his head. “I never read the bloody thing either.”

“So what now? They’re the gods, they can just wave a hoof and magic it back, can’t they?” I held my hooves up for dramatic effect. “Off to prison goes the thief, and bob’s your uncle.”

“They can’t.”

“Eh? Why not?” I frowned in confusion. “They’re supposed to be omnipotent aren’t they? What’s the point of all that ‘Incredible Cosmic Power’ and stuff, if some cheeky bugger can waltz in and nick things out of your sock drawer?”

“Because,” Pop sighed, “The king and queen, the god and goddess of the eternal herd, created a set of commandments that the ponies of the afterlife are supposed to follow. In return they agreed that they would not intervene in the daily running of the herd. This is where the royal guard come in of course.”

“So being a god doesn’t mean you can’t, say, lose your keys, for example?”

“A little disrespectful, Fairlight, but essentially true,” Pop shrugged.

I scratched my chin in thought, “But they could, if they really wanted to of course?”

“Of course.” Pop raised an eyebrow. “But the king is a traditionalist, and to him the word of the law is the word of the law. It cannot be broken by neither he nor the queen.”

“You learn something new every day.” I took another sip of my water and began to seriously wish I had a cold flannel for my head. “By the way,” I said, “the mission went okay. Up to a point, anyway. But Pop, seriously, the intel in the brief was worse than useless! Zip Line and I had next to nothing on the target and what little we had was wrong.”

“How so?” Pop asked, his ears pricking up.

“The intel said that he’d expired two days before we got there.” I shook my head as the memory of poor Hedgerow’s plight came back in full force. “The retirement resort he stayed in sure as hell hadn’t burned down two days ago. It looked like it had been abandoned for bloody decades. I know about the time fluctuations between here and the mortal world, but for the goddess’s sake, that guy had been there that long he’d turned into a Lemming or something and nearly took us both out.”

“Lemur,” Pop said, correcting me. “In the most basic terms it can happen when a soul that has received a cruel death and not been put to rest can, if left for long enough, ‘warp’, essentially becoming a corrupted echo of its former self.” He stared at his hoof as he continued his explanation, “It essentially foments in its own bitterness and hatred at the world. Over time it begins to change, gradually becoming an entity of utter evil and malice intent. If not stopped quickly enough they can begin to attack the living, and that’s when we have to come in and… ‘cleanse’ them.” He frowned at me, an expression of doubt flickering across his features. “Are you absolutely certain it was a Lemur?”

“That’s what Zip Line said it was,” I shrugged. “Well, he was, I suppose. Anyway, it was all sorted out in the end thank goodness. We buried the poor bugger’s remains, said a prayer, and he toddled off with us happy as Larry.”

“Yes...” Pop sat in thought and then suddenly stood up. “I need to go and have a word with Argo. If you experience anything else like this, Fairlight, I suggest you speak to him directly. Nopony else, you understand? Just him.”

“Why?” I asked curiously, intrigued by my father in laws sudden animation.

“He’s a pony I trust, Fairlight,” Pop replied. “That’s all.”

“Why can’t I just tell you?” I asked. “After all, you’re senior to me here and I know I can trust you.”

“I know, it’s just...” Pop sighed loudly. “I’m transferring soon to the western territory.”

I straightened up in surprise at the revelation. “Eh? Why? I haven’t heard anything about this!”

“No, you won’t have.” Pop stared at the floor as he continued, “It was something Merry and I were going to tell you both after the festival. I suppose that’s a little redundant now, considering. You see, the whole ‘spending time with your relatives’ thing was Merry’s idea. I’m not...” Pop gave me a pained expression. “I’m not exactly one for socialising. You know what I mean, right?” I nodded. “Fairlight, Merry and I want to enjoy the lakes and the peace out there, far away from everything, including the guard,” Pop continued. “I’ve done my time in the watch, I’ve been in the guard for more years than I can count, and… and I…”

I held up my hoof and nodded, “No need to explain, Pop. Just… let me know when you’re going, okay?”

“Yeah.” He looked deflated, but also relieved that I understood him.

“Look, I know I haven’t been the ideal son in law,” I tried, “but-”

“Fairlight, stop.” The old stallion smiled at me, “There’s nothing wrong with you. Nothing that you can’t solve given your own time and allowed to be all that you can be. I know it sounds gauche, but being here, with these ponies, will bring back the real you. You understand?” I nodded. “Just don’t run yourself down all the time. Meadow’s told me about you doing that, and I know exactly why you do it. Gods forgive me, but I did it to myself enough times and it drove Merry crazy. But, Fairlight, believe me, it doesn’t help you. Being negative and overly self critical is self indulgence of the worst kind. It can destroy you without any help from outside by wankers like Thalio and his ilk. Yes?” I nodded again. “So, take a leaf out of my book, and when the worst happens look it in the eye and just… smile.” He chuckled, “They really hate that.”

I smiled, joining my father in law in his mirth. It was a revelation to me to know that the old stallion really seemed to care about me even after all the things I’d thought about him over the years. Perhaps, for me at least, this really was a turning point in my life. I had a new job, a new purpose, and had even mended bridges with my extended family that should never have been damaged in the first place. All I needed to do now was make things right with Meadow and I could finally be at peace. Not just with her, but with myself too. I reached down inside myself and instead of the usual ball of knotted anxiety and grief, I felt only... calm. Peaceful even.

I stood up and reached out to Pop. “Thank you.”

He looked at me strangely for a moment, as if seeing me for the very first time. And then, to my surprise, he actually… hugged me.

“Fairlight, I know you’ve heard this a thousand times before, but you are loved. Your family, friends and even those you don’t know. They all love you.” The green stallion gave me a friendly squeeze before letting go. “Never forget that. When the darkness seems to swallow you whole, there is always light. You only need to open your eyes to see it.”

I didn’t know what to say. Part of me wanted to say I loved him, that I was sorry and that I respected him wholeheartedly. But you know, I think he already knew that. The look in his eyes was the gentlest I’d even seen from him and it brought a lump to my throat. The gruff miserable old sod actually had a heart after all. And I knew then, in that sublime moment of clarity, that I too held a place in there somewhere as well. Before I could say any more he’d knocked on the door and one of the guards opened it to let him out.

He paused. “Fairlight?”

“Yes, Pop?”

“Take care of yourself, and… good luck.”

I bobbed my head, “You too, Pop.”

And with that the door closed and I was left, once again, to my silent reflections.

********************

It was morning. I knew that by virtue of the fact the sun was streaming in behind the shadowed mare standing in the open doorway with a scowl on her face. What joy. Something told me I wasn’t going to be getting breakfast in bed this morning, let alone a copy of the local paper.

“You really know how to make an impression on a girl, you know that?” Zip Line said testily.

Goddesses, her voice was like hooves down a chalk board! “Yeah, I’m a real piece of work,” I shrugged. I winced as I stood up and felt the full glaring brightness of the sun searing my eyes. “Gods! Can’t they turn down the brightness on that thing?”

“A little tender are we?” Zip Line smirked knowingly.

“It’s alright for you,” I replied, “you’re used to it. I’ve barely touched a drop since I got here.”

“Ah, yes. The wife,” she stated knowingly.

“The wife,” I agreed with a nod. “So, what’s on the agenda for today? A little light flogging perhaps?”

“You wish! This one will shake the cobwebs off you though,” my colleague chirped merrily. “We’ve a soul lost in the northern mountains.” She passed me the brief. “I haven’t been there for a while, but I can tell you now we’ll need to wrap up warm.”

I turned the page, trying to make my sore eyes focus. I wish I hadn’t looked too. There, staring at me with the innocence of youth, was a picture of a foal no more than five years old according to the bio. Large eyes peered up at the camera, the way Lumin’s had with me when he was being cradled in his mother’s forelegs. My heart sank.

“Damn it all, she’s just a kid.”

“Fell down the mountain and broke her neck apparently,” Zip Line noted casually.

“Goddesses almighty, Zippy, how can you be so upbeat about this?” I asked.

“Because we’re bringing her home, Corny, that’s why.” Zip Line tossed her mane as we entered the bathroom. “Children don’t usually come with any problems because they’re so accepting of things. We go there, pick her up, bring her back here to her relatives, and all’s well that ends well.”

“Not for her parents, though,” I observed. “I know what it’s like to lose a loved one.”

“That’s not for us to concern ourselves about though, remember?” The black mare hung up her tunic and began rummaging in her locker. “Lesson number one is to detach yourself from the world of the living. They can’t see us. They can’t hear us. And we’re there to do a job that helps ponies, Corny. And that is what’s really important. We can’t deal with what-ifs and buts, why something happened, or how ‘unfair’ and ‘cruel’ everything is. To the soul it already has happened and they need our help now regardless of how upsetting the situation might be. Don’t forget, if it wasn’t for us that little thing would be wandering around the mountains for who knows how long. And goddesses forbid we have another Lemur on our hooves. Agreed?”

I snapped to attention. “Yes, boss.”

She winked at me, “And don’t you forget it!”

In short order we were kitted out with a surprisingly large amount of winter gear, including boots, cloaks, and padded armour that was similar in some ways to the normal issue, yet much lighter in the metal department. It was certainly comfortable, but in the centrally heated barracks I was rapidly starting to warm up to uncomfortable levels and we wasted not time in heading once more for the portal room. I’d been fortunate that my chirpy comrade had allowed enough time for me to grab a quick shower and tidy myself up before our scheduled trip. It was a job I certainly didn’t relish, although I could see Zip Line’s point of view on the matter even if I didn’t exactly share her enthusiasm. By her own admission she’d never had foals and it was only to be expected that she wouldn’t be quite as ‘emotional’ as I was about the subject. In fact, the way she’d looked at me when I’d spoken to her earlier made me feel decidedly foolish. Aside from my hurt pride I still felt she was missing the point, but labouring it was only going to make an issue out of something that was, in all fairness, simply a different point of view. Other than my family, Zip Line was the only mare I’d spent much time with since passing away. She was confident, quick witted, and could sink pints like I’d never believed equinely possible before. How in Equestria she was able to suddenly sober up after a minute’s snooze slumped over a table was incomprehensible. It was impressive certainly, but how did she do it? I’d have to ask her one day. It would certainly come in handy when I had to go home. And that was the one subject I didn’t want to contemplate right now. I mean, how long is ‘a few days’? Tomorrow? A weeks time? Zip Line’s nudge dislodged from that particularly worrisome train of thought and we trotted along quite merrily until my partner stopped me.

“Corny, hang on a min I need the loo before we go,” the pegasus announced. “Hand in our pass to the boffins and get them to hang fire, okay?”

The black mare smiled and the disappeared into the mares room leaving me standing there like a plank of wood holding the slip of paper. To pass the time I tried examining it, but for the most part the curious thing was completely unintelligible. Numbers, letters, symbols, all seemingly random filled the neatly cut missive from top to bottom. No doubt to the white over-coated ponies who had a predilection towards large numbers of pens in pockets and spectacles which kept slipping down their muzzles, I guess it meant something. I presumed time of departure, estimated return time, location and so on, was all-

“A word...”

“Huh?” I looked up in shock as I was suddenly grabbed and roughly shoved around the corner of the corridor. My heart sank like a stone on a still pond. Yellow eyes, chestnut coat, and that deep red, almost black mane and tail - regulation length, naturally – filled my vision. There was only one stallion it could be...

Thalio.

He wasn’t particularly large in stature, but he was fit, and he knew exactly where to shove a guy to get him to move, voluntarily or not. Despite my armour the pressure he exerted was uncomfortable to say the least, and left me momentarily stunned as I was backed into a wall.

“What’s your name, stallion?” he asked levelly. “Can you remember now?”

I gave him a warning glare and backed away from his hooves a pace. “My name... is Corn Bread.”

“Yes, I heard them call you that.” Thalio took a deep breath, clearing his lungs and exhaled slowly. “I want to know your real name.”

After my initial shock I rallied and met his stern gaze with my own measured one. “You already know. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t be asking me.”

“No...” The stallion watched me like a cat watching a mouse. “I just want to hear you say it.”

“Then allow me to oblige you,” I replied icily. “My name is Fairlight Loam, Captain Fairlight Loam, late of the Equestrian Watch. Does that answer your question, Lieutenant?” Whether the warning tone of my voice had made any difference to this fellows arrogant posturing, I couldn’t say. His overall demeanour was one, not so much of hostility, but more of… contempt.

“I have been wondering whether this day would ever come,” he began. “The standards of the herd are not what they once were, and neither, evidently, are the royal guards’.” The chestnut stallion’s nose wrinkled in distaste. “A drunkard. A killer. A disgrace to the watch, the royal guard, and in fact to the whole of the Equestrian race. To think that a diseased beast like you was allowed entry into our home speaks volumes about how low the herd has sunk.” He leaned towards me, his eyes narrowing. “Do you know what they did to me and my brothers after our little meeting in the Withers, ‘Captain’ Fairlight?” I said nothing, only matching his gaze as he continued, “They destroyed me. The royal family themselves stripped me of my status as an alicorn. And not just me either. Oh no, they punished my brothers in the same manner. All of us! Years of service, years of dedication and loyalty to the royal family - destroyed overnight. Destroyed, because of you!”

“And you think that my refusal to go with you and have my mind, my personality, and everything that makes me who I am destroyed, legitimises me as the target of your hatred, correct?” I asked.

“Yes. Yes it does.” Thalio took a step back and felt my head did slightly in response. I wasn’t seriously expecting him to attack me, but it didn’t hurt to be ready. “You and your sickness do not belong here… wendigo.”

“And yet here I am.” I felt a wry smile tickle my lips. “And I bet that really makes your arse clench, doesn’t it.”

“You listen to me, you murderous little mutant,” the stallion hissed as his toned muscles rippled. I knew then that if he could, if he thought for even one moment he could get away with it, he’d be on me in a heartbeat. “I don’t like you. I don’t want you in the royal army, and as the gods are my witness I don’t want you in the eternal herd either. You, and those like you, should all be sent to the thestral plane with all the other freaks. The eternal herd is for ponies, and not for the likes of you.”

“In which case I suggest you put your grievances in writing to the marshal,” I said politely. “I’m certain they’ll listen to you, Lieutenant Thalio. After all, you’re such a nice guy.”

“You’ll be grinning on the other side of your smug face one day, wendigo,” Thalio retorted. “A leopard doesn’t change its spots, and it won’t be long until your sadistic primal need to kill surfaces again and puts innocent ponies at risk.”

My ire began to rise. I could feel it in my bones, my muscles and my blood as it howled through my veins. I wanted to fight him. I wanted to smash that damned smug face of his into an unrecognisable bloodied pulp. But if I did… now that would be playing right into his hooves. Instead I thought back to Pop’s advice whilst I’d been languishing in the cells. “Lieutenant Thalio,” I began. He stared at me, apparently unsure how to react as I used my most commanding tone and stood tall, coming face to face with the supercilious prig. “Get stuffed.”

I could almost hear the blood vessel in his face expanding as his anger flared. In what felt like slow motion I saw his pupils dilate, his mouth beginning to open. And then, with timing that would have had any stage actor turning green with envy, a black and white muzzle appeared behind him like some avenging spirit of the dead.

“Hey Corny, you ready yet? I heard voices and-” She looked from me to the incensed Lieutenant Thalio. “Oh… This looks familiar.”

I took the metaphorical life belt and bobbed my head respectfully to my antagonist. “By your leave, Lieutenant.” And then, I simply walked away. My rather flustered saviour started to speak but I gently yet firmly nudged her towards the portal room. “I believe we have a job to do?” I said politely.

“Yes, but...” Zip Line babbled, peering over my shoulder. Whatever she saw shut her up in a trice and we continued the rest of our journey in silence.

Inside the portal room I hoofed over our documents, and in mere moments we were walking once more through the pool of liquid silver and into another world.

Light enveloped us. As we emerged from the portal the intensity of the sun was such that it was a near physical experience causing me to blink in surprise. It was a hell of a change from last time and I quickly pulled down my goggles, breathing a deep sigh of relief. Fortunately for us our winter gear was surprisingly well thought out too. The boots were fur lined, our leg wraps, cloaks and helmets kitted out in similar fashion. The only real down side was that it was a touch on the bulky side, but certainly tolerable considering the alternatives. I took a deep breath, watching my breath condensing around my muzzle as I exhaled. The air here though was absolutely amazing. It was cold, sure, but so clear and fresh it made my hide tingle even beneath the armour. And the quiet! No birds, no noise of other ponies chattering, only the soft sigh of the wind blown snow as it caressed this vast barren landscape. The wind, what there was of it, was little more than a gentle tickle that I found surprisingly pleasant. It was certainly a massive contrast to the smells and clamour of down town Manehattan. If there was one word that could sum it all up, it would be… peaceful. Part of me, a distant yet distinct part, called out to it. I felt like I was home. This, here in this incredible place of such stark and naked beauty was where I belonged. I felt a shiver run through my body. Not of cold, but of longing.

“Hoy, you okay there?” It was Zip Line.

“Me?” I smiled. “Yes. I’m fine.”

“You sure?” The mare moved closer, her hooves crunching in the snow. “You spaced out there for a minute.”

“Yeah, just taking in the scenery,” I replied. “Nature never fails to amaze.”

“Huh! Bloody freezing and bleak as buggery if you ask me.” Zip Line gave herself a shake and took out a map from her case and consulted it for a moment. “According to this we should be near a gulley where we’ll find our missing soul. Hang on, we’d better use the magic box of tricks for this one. I don’t fancy falling down a crevasse or something. That’ll really ruin my day.” She fussed with her case and produced a small brass box. “Here you go, you’re the unicorn, you can carry it.”

The device was about four inches square with a lens inset in the top and gems set around the outside of a central dial, not unlike a compass. “What’s this do then?” I asked. “Some sort of direction finder?”

“Yup,” Zip nodded. “Points to where we should be going.” She rolled her shoulders before fiddling with one of her panniers. “Specifically, it’s preset back at the barracks to a particular soul’s ‘harmonic signature’ or something.” She shrugged, “I don’t really know much about magic to be blunt, but this thing is an absolute godsend. Pardon the pun.”

“So how does it work?” I asked, holding it up. “What, we just follow the arrow?”

“And that’s about it.” The mare sniffed and rubbed her muzzle. “Follow the arrow and we find out foal. Easy peasy.”

“What about aerial recon?” I asked with a grin. “I point, you fly.”

“Yeah, like I can fly with all this junk on, right?” She shivered. “I could do it, but you know, hypothermia’s not really my thing?”

“Understood.” I let out a sigh and lifted the box. “Okay, let’s see...” The dial span this way and that, gradually settling on a course slightly north-east of our location. “Right, this way then.” I held out a hoof indication the direction the arrow was pointing. “Does it do something when we’re near?” I asked.

Zip line shrugged, “It chimes.”

“Oh. I’ll keep my ears open then.” Which wasn’t that difficult considering the absolute silence of our surroundings. Whoever had designed the cold weather gear had included a rather natty pair of padded ear warmers that sat under your helmet and poked up through the armoured openings. There was just enough to keep your extremities warm and allow you to hear too. Very clever. We’d had our own armourers and technicians back in the watch, although due to the continuous budgetary constraints on services we were lucky to have a cup and string to use for communications. The agency on the other hoof was a different matter altogether. They had the best of everything and were years ahead of the civilian market. Considering their behind the scenes role in Equestria, it was probably just as well. Here however, we had an odd mix of the two. It was as if somepony had come along with a boatload of high end magical equipment and know-how, and then suddenly became obsessed with living in the middle ages. Hence the wacky mix of magical locators and plate armour. Tradition was all fine and well, but when you’re clattering around like a tinkers wagon in a residential area at night I can see the appeal wearing off very quickly indeed.

We continued to walk for some time, crunching along in relative silence. It was pretty warm going in all that gear and the exertion was soon turning the inside of my once comfy armour into a hot, soggy nightmare. The padding helped to soak away the perspiration to a degree, but it was only a matter of time before it reached saturation point and the damned stuff started pouring out of my ears like a fountain. And that was another thing wasn’t it - the business at the fountain festival. The king and queen, gods bless ‘em, turn up and take their seats along with half the population of the eternal herd. Everypony and his dog knew they were going to be there of course, so they also would have known that the bulk of the palace guard would have been in attendance with the royal duo. And I’ll bet you a years salary that they also banked on the polished armour boys who’d been left back at the palace being on a much lower level of alert now that their bosses were away. So let’s see… Palace is less well guarded than usual. Thief comes in, steals a valuable pendant, and disappears. Inside job perhaps? Maybe. Whoever it was knew the jewellery was valuable, or else they would have pinched a hell of a lot more. No… they knew what they were after alright, and they also knew where it was. Wherever that was. I assumed that since everypony had whatever they could possibly desire, within reason, there would be a natural drop off in the number of thefts. I mean honestly, who would steal from the gods? But… yeah. History, legends and mythology were all replete with the tales of so-and-so who ‘defied the gods’ and nicked something important of theirs. Sometimes they got away with it, other times they didn’t. Most of them were only fit for bed time stories to entertain little ones like Sparrow, but when the gods live in a palace a short taxi ride from your house it’s a bit harder to be as objective as you may have once been. Anyway, as interesting a distraction as it may be from slogging through the snow, it was none of my business. My days of detecting crimes and gathering statements and so forth were long since passed. They didn’t want my help, and they had more than enough senior guards here to sink the proverbial. Still, didn’t stop me being a touch curious.

Zip Line was blowing hard with the effort, but finally she spoke. “Hey, Corny?”

“Mmm?”

“I owe you an apology.”

I frowned in thought for a moment. I couldn’t think of anything she’d done to me. “What for?” I asked.

Zip Line sighed loudly, turning her head away in embarrassment. “I think I may have blabbed your real name out the other night.” She paused, “When Thalio was there?”

Ah, and now suddenly everything becomes clear, doesn’t it. He obviously knew who I was and hadn’t wasted any time in making a bee-line right for me, just to make his point. I shrugged, “Doesn’t matter now. What’s done is done.”

“But it does matter!” Zip Line said anxiously. “One of the major tenets of the guard is not to divulge a guardspony’s true identity unless it’s by royal order. I broke that rule, and now look what’s happened: he’s got you set in his sights and it’s my fault because of my big mouth!”

“Who’s to say he wouldn’t have found out sooner or later anyway?” I mused. “Wouldn’t be hard, all they’d need to know is that Apple Pop introduced me, find out that I was his son in law, and then just ask anypony in town who the local celebrity was. Hey Presto! Oh look, it’s Fairlight, the mass murdering demon creature from the pits of Tartarus out shopping for knitting accessories with his family. Try not to murder anypony on your way home, you naughty colt!”

“Are you always so cynical?” my partner asked.

“Yes,” I replied, “although I’ve always believed cynics to be the world’s realists. Walking through life naively expecting everything to work out for you when everypony around you would happily trample on you to be that one step higher than you on the career ladder, the social ladder, or whatever the hell it is, is utterly pointless. We all have to do our best for ourselves and our families, and if we can be good people at the same time, then so much the better.”

“But you said you’re a fatalist, didn’t you?” Zip Line pointed out.

She was right, and I nodded to her, “True, but I don’t know what Fate’s plan for me is though, do I? If I sit on my arse and do nothing you could say I was fated to spend eternity as a couch potato. But if I don’t try, if I don’t push myself to become a better stallion and do my best for my loved ones, then would it still be right for me to simply give up and say ‘oh never mind, it’s fate’? No. Fate knows what we will do before we do it, but by that very measure we ourselves cannot know. That’s the paradox, you see? To know what Fate has in store for you would effectively be like looking into the future. A future you could change. But since Fate already knows what that will be, would you have actually changed your fate or simply done exactly what she expected?” I smiled, “Either way, we are all allotted a set number of days in the plane of the living before our time runs out, and then one day it’s poof! And you’re up here in front of my old pal Aethel, signing that bloody book of his.”

Zip Line frowned in thought, “So by your logic we may as well do whatever the hell we want because it’s all preplanned in some big book someplace?”

“I heard it was a tapestry, but yes… that’s about the size of it.” I nodded, floating up the direction finder in my magic. “Some say Fate’s a mare who sits atop a mountain, cursed forever to weave the lives of ponies until the end of time. Others believe fate to be some analogous force that we can neither see nor touch, yet interacts with our world on a level far above our own understanding.”

“Nothing obscure about that then,” Zip Line groaned. “Goddesses, I hate snow! It’s getting in everywhere, and now I’m all hot and sticky too. Isn’t the thing chiming yet?”

“Nope.” I lowered the device and stopped to take a drink. Even in this cold it was important to remain hydrated.

Zip Line took a swig of her own water and shivered. “Guess you’d be used to this stuff then, eh?”

“Why’s that?” And then I realised what she was getting at. “Ah, the whole ‘wendigo’ thing, right?”

“Right!” Considering her fatigue, now we were talking about a subject she quite obviously had an interest in, her curiosity gave new life to her movements and she positively bounced along beside me. “So, you feel the cold though, yeah?”

“I can feel it, it just doesn’t bother me that much.” I raised an eyebrow. “Zippy, you do realised that I’m not really a wendigo any more, right? They ‘cleansed my soul’ or locked it away or something, the same as they do with all the other wendigo who came to the herd.”

“I guess.” Zip Line looked a little deflated. “Most of the wendigo went off to the thestral realm, but some stayed. I knew a couple of them too.”

“You knew ponies who were wendigo?” I asked, my own interest piqued.

“Of course! I used to play hockey with Nirtha and Lysine in the local mares league. We were damned good too, but boy did I get thumped!” Zip Line looked down at the snow with a sad smile, her eyes taking on a distant caste. “One day they just gave away all their belongings and took the walk. I didn’t even know they’d gone, but I kept the note they left for me along with their awards and medals.” Zip Line closed her eyes. “I gave up playing hockey after that… it didn’t seem right to carry on without them.”

“So what, ponies just get up and leave? Just like that?” I asked. It still bothered me just to even to think about it. “To just give up on who you are, what you are, and-”

“And be a teenager again? Ha! No thanks! Acne, greasy mane and tail, not to mention the hormonal mood swings.” Zip Line shuddered, “Nope. I’m quite happy here thank you, my dear Fairlight.”

“So, cards on the table, yes?” I asked her, already knowing the answer.

Zip Line nodded, “Cards on the table.”

I’d try and keep this short and sweet. “Okay, so I am who you thought I was.”

“Ha! I knew it!” The mare’s wings flapped and she lifted off the ground a few inches before gently landing back in the snow. “I saw that grey coat and the black mane and I said ‘that’s gotta be him!’ I’d heard you’d arrived of course, everypony had, but I thought to myself ‘that stallion’s going to come here one day’, and you know what? I was right!”

“What made you so sure I’d join the guard?” I asked.

Zip Line rolled her eyes, “Ex-watch? Duh! Most of the guys and gals here are ex-army, ex-watch and what-not. What with all the heroic stuff you’ve done I knew it would still be in your blood. Metaphorically speaking of course.” She giggled coyly. “Cor blimey! I wish I could tell the girls about this. I know Nirtha and Lysine would have been thrilled to see you.”

There were those names again. It was quite clear to me now that the three of them had been close, but the wendigo had still left nonetheless, leaving their friend behind. At face value it would be easy to say they’d been selfish, but there must have been more to it than that. Perhaps it was just their time to go. I’d heard that before and hearing it never made it any easier to accept. That one day, you just woke up and knew it was time to move on. It was frightening on a level that I couldn’t quite put my hoof on, but it resonated with that deeper part of my soul that cried out every time I thought of my family both in this world and the other. Thinking of Shadow, Tingles, Lumin and my little Tarragon, was like poking a red hot poker in my chest, and I saw the same reaction in Zip Line’s face when she recalled the memories of her friends. Even now it still clearly caused her pain.

“When did you meet them?” I asked. “Nirtha and Lysine.”

“After the war with the Legion,” Zip Line replied. “I had a hell of a job finding them too. They were lost in these caves after their home was attacked by the Celestian army.” She shuddered. “Horrible job that was too. Both of them had been badly burned and simply wandered off, got lost, and just… passed away. Nopony should die like that, Fairlight.”

“But you found them and brought them home, right?”

“Yeah.” Zip Line’s tone of voice picked up an octave. She was bravely trying to make light of it, but the truth of the horror of what she must have seen still lingered even now. “Funny things wendigo souls you know. Now, I’ve seen ‘em all see: griffins, minotaurs, hippogryphs, even thestrals. But a wendigo is different. They smell different, look different, and feel… cold, like holding pure ice in your hooves. They don’t feel like a pony’s soul at all. Now your regular old pony’s like poor Hedgerow’s was: warm, gentle, and all fuzzy like. Griffins on the other hoof are all flighty and pompous. Minotaurs are headstrong and a bit dimwitted. Hippogryphs are like a muddle of pony and griffin of course, and a thestral is all spiky and feisty and… grrrr.”

“Grrrr?” I asked, a little amused.

“Yeah. Kinda like if you could bottle ‘angry’ and then tip it out and say, there ya go, one thestral soul!” Zip Line looked at me hopefully. “Get the idea?”

“Pretty much,” I agreed. “But wendigo souls are cleansed when they go to the herd, right? After all, that’s why my pal Thalio tried to collect me in the first place, to have me ‘cleansed’, whether I wanted to be or not.” Even the mere thought of it made my hide twitch.

“Ah, well.” Zip Line scratched her neck in thought, “Wendigo have to undergo a process of having their souls cleansed of the spirit from the Withers. Sometimes it could have… far reaching effects on them.” She lifted a hoof quickly. “Not all! Not… not all of them. But for some it… it changed who they were.”

“Like Nirtha and Lysine?” I surmised.

Zip Line rounded on me. “How did…?” She stopped and groaned loudly. “Yeah. It… it did things to them.”

“Like what?” I asked.

“Look, I didn’t know them before they were processed and so I only knew who they were afterwards, okay?” The black mare took a breath, her eyes downcast. “They had their souls cleansed so they could enter the herd. There was no other way, the council and the royal family would never entertain a parasitic entity living amongst them, and so, it was… removed.” Zip Line shook her head and forged on ahead of me. “Nirtha and Lysine were like foals when they’d finished with them, and I was assigned to help them integrate into the herd. Over time, like many of the wendigo, they began to remember who they had been and…” She closed her eyes, “I wished it hadn’t. It would have been better for them. So much better.”

“Why?” I asked.

“Because it ate away at them,” Zip Line replied. “Every day, every moment, the memories of who they’d been gnawed at them, turning them into shadows of themselves. They even referred to themselves as ‘shades’ compared to how they’d been in life. They missed being able to fly. They longed for the feeling of strength and power that came with the spirit bonding.” She looked at me levelly, but her eyes were starting to glisten with tears as she spoke. “Their memories destroyed them, Fairlight. And I watched it all. Day after day, watching my friends drifting further and further into retrospection and depression. All the magic of the herd could do nothing for them, and the royal family refused all my requests for help. Until one day, when I had thought we’d finally been able to move on from the spectre of the past, I came home to find the note. Oh I ran to the forge to try to try to stop them of course. But I was too late. Far, far too late.” She glanced back at me and smiled. “Do you know the worst part of it?” she asked. “It was that I had actually begun to believe that we’d made progress, that we’d overcome the pain and dejection of their separation from the spirit. And… and I was wrong. I hadn’t done anything at all! If anything I’d probably made matters worse by intervening and… and...”

I caught up with her and placed my hoof on her shoulder. “Is this why you wanted to know if I was a wendigo, Zippy? Because of what happened to your friends?”

“I… I don’t know! Maybe? I...” Zip Line shook her head and nickered, “I suppose I thought that if I could speak to a wendigo again I could find out why they’d left and if it was my fault. I know it’s stupid, but… Oh, goddesses, I don’t know!” She shook me off and began to trudge away once more.

“I can remember what it’s like to fly,” I said quietly. “I know the feeling of freedom and exhilaration that comes with being able to fly high above the clouds with the blue sky above you and the sun shining like a golden coin. I can remember the sensation of strength burning through me, of magic that was so powerful, so raw in its intensity, that you feel like you could take on the entire world and laugh while you did it.” I looked up to see the mare had stopped and turned to face me.

“How, Fairlight?” she asked. “How can you stand there and remember all of that without yearning for it every hour of every day?”

“Because I have the love of my family,” I said with genuine smile. “Because I have two wonderful foals and three mares who-”

“What? THREE?!” Zip Line’s eyes were as wide as saucers. “Oh! Oh, now you’re going to have to tell me everything!”

I face hoofed. “Oh, no...”

“But oh, yes!” Zip Line chirped.

I felt my heart sink. I was going to have to tell her everything, wasn’t I? I groaned and uttered a phrase that seemed entirely appropriate for the occasion. “Oh… bollocks.”

My mare friend listened as I spoke, taking it all in. I was a little frugal with the more graphic information naturally, although I think her own imagination was more than capable of filling in the blanks in my story. All the while I kept checking the direction finder but the blasted thing remained stubbornly silent, as though it was waiting for me to finish my tale. Damned thing! Eventually however, all good things come to an end, and I finished my story. I have to admit though, Zip Line was a good listener. She’d kept quiet throughout and would only speak up when she hadn’t understood something I’d said.

“So that’s the whole sordid story,” I said finally. I glanced down at the direction finder and sat down in the snow for a breather. All this walking in belly deep snow was damned hard going.

Zip Line sat beside me and passed me a flash of some sort of spirit. “I’d heard some of that,” she said quietly. “I didn’t realise how much of it was true until you told me.”

“I haven’t read the newspaper articles,” I admitted. “I wanted to put everything behind me, but Fate seems to keep hounding me wherever I go, even in death.” I snorted bitterly, “Nothing like having a supernatural stalker watching your every move to give that ‘extra zing’ in the morning.”

“What about Shadow, Lumin and Tingles?” Zip Line asked. “You said you see them sometimes in the glades?”

“Sometimes,” I replied. “I haven’t been able to see them in some time though. The worst part is that I don’t know why.”

Zip Line bobbed her head in reply. “Perhaps it’s for the best.”

“How so?” I asked.

“What could you do to help when you’re here?” Zip Line reasoned. “Making a clean break is often the best way. It was for me anyway.” She shrugged, “Not that I had much choice in the matter.”

“Yeah...” I closed my eyes and felt the familiar pain in my heart every time I thought about my family in the mortal realm, and me stuck here. I decided to change the subject. “So what about you then?”

“Me?” Zip Line blinked in surprise at my question. Apparently she was used to being the one who asked the questions, not the other way round. “Ha! Not much to tell, really.” A mischievous smile played across her lips. “Tell you what, you guess how old I am and I’ll tell you.”

“Oh, come on!” I said with a chuckle. “That’s hardly fair! I told you my story.”

“Ladies privilege,” Zip Line beamed. “Come on, have a go detective.”

I raised an eyebrow and thought back to what I knew about her. She’d said certain things that hinted at a period, certainly. And her friend, Fret, was very pally with her. More than friends it seemed. Not so much lovers, but I had the distinct impression they were more like old comrades. I nodded to myself as I formed my hypothesis. “From what you’ve told me so far, I’d guess you were around in the time of the war of three tribes.”

She waved a hoof encouragingly, clearly enjoying seeing my mind at work. “Go on...”

“Well, from what you’ve told me you certainly weren’t around when steam power was invented, so we’re looking at least a few hundred years there.” I frowned in thought. “You had friends who’d been killed during the war with Nightmare Moon and you were already in the herd then. Your friend Fret was a member of the royal unicorn army of the Golden Dawn.”

Zip Line nodded, “He was.”

“But you’re a pegasus,” I mused, “so unless you had some familial ties to the unicorn or earth kingdoms I’d say you were with the pegasus tribe. History tells us all the tribes were racially homogeneous, but that could always have been an over simplification on the part of the historian of course.” I scratched my muzzle, pondering what else I knew about her. “The watch as we know it today wasn’t founded until after Nightmare Moon was banished, so you can’t be ex-watch. So with your own assertion that the hunters are made up mostly of ex-forces, I’m going to guess that you were around either during the time of the crystal empire or the war with the three tribes. Based on your friendship with Fret, I’m going to take a guess at that time frame.” I ran all the information through my mind again and nodded to myself. “It’s not much to go on, but I’d say you were around two thousand years old. Give or take a century or so.”

“Oh, you’re good,” Zip Line nodded to herself with a broad smirk on her face. “You’re bang on the money there, Captain Fairlight.” She leaned back and rolled her shoulders. “I was born in the clouds, in a place called Nimba Columnus. They were well into the old school names back then, you know.” She winked at me cheekily. “It was just like the other tribes in many ways: insular, warlike, and had ponies flying around with attitudes so large I’m surprised they could fly at all!” Zip Line chuckled. “I was in military school at five years old, like everypony else. And then one day, the war happened.” She closed her eyes and stared at the ground. “It was terrible. Nopony seemed to know exactly what started it, but tensions had been building for generations over the earth ponies dominating the production of food.”

“From what I heard the earth ponies were treated almost like slaves,” I added.

Zip Line nodded sadly. “They were. Not by us, but by the unicorns. They effectively annexed whole areas of the land with the earth ponies as little more than indentured servants. Slaves, in all but name. The pegasi weren’t exactly ones for diplomacy either. Our food was mostly stolen in raids. We’d go in, pile up the carts and fly out before the unicorns could react. One day, something snapped and the earth ponies began to fight back. It wasn’t anything more than sporadic skirmishes at first, but then when the unicorns began to get involved the whole lot went up like a volcano.”

“And the wendigo?” I asked. “The Hearthswarming celebrations talk about the tribes having to leave the land because of the wendigo.”

“That’s partly true,” Zip Line nodded. “But it wasn’t the three tribes that moved.”

“Oh?”

“It was the wendigo.”

“What?!” I sat upright, giving my mane a hard shake. “The wendigo?”

Zip Line grimaced. “There were four tribes, not three.” She looked me right in the eyes. “I thought you’d know, what with you being one and all.”

The ‘you’re one of them’ line had always had a funny way of my getting my back up, and my next words were a little sharper than I intended. “I wasn’t around then, remember?” I huffed. “And if you recall I wasn’t exactly in a position to take history lessons from sporadic memories.”

Zip Line watched me for a moment and then shrugged it off before continuing her story. “All the fighting attracted wildlife. The usual beasts of the forests: bears, wolves, carrion crows, that sort of thing. But it was what stalked the fields following the larger engagements that put true fear into our hearts. Monsters, spirits, call them what you will. We all knew they were there. We could hear their cries high above, the cold biting into your skin through your coat as they began to gather. The sensible ones were well away from the area before they appeared. Others… well, let’s just say that they looked like they’d had the very life drawn from their bodies and a look of horror in their eyes the likes of which nopony should ever have to see.” She stared down at her hooves, playing with the snow. “I saw them a few times myself. Usually it was when I was on high reconnaissance in the mountains or the forests around the foothills. They looked like… like the ghosts of ponies; all transparent and trailing cloud vapour as they circled above the battlefields howling like the north wind. Some of the ponies from all three tribes saw them as an omen, and over time began to separate themselves from the rest, forming their own tribe that worshipped the very spirits we feared. They called themselves the tribe of the wendigo and refused to be drawn into the conflict despite representations from the others. Somewhere along the line they began to change physically, joining themselves with the spirits to become the wendigo you know. Like you are. Eventually, the tribe separated themselves completely and headed off into the mountains where they became, essentially, mercenaries. How they all became grey unicorns, I haven’t got a clue.” She peered at me and raised an eyebrow. “You know I hadn’t really thought about it before, but you look different from the wendigo I’ve known.” Zip Line pointed to my rump, “Your cutie mark for a start. And your eyes are brown, not yellow.”

“My eye colouring’s from my dad’s side,” I said.

“Do you keep in touch?” Zip Line asked.

A memory of my parents flash up in my mind’s eye, reminding me of things I’d rather not remember. “No. We weren’t exactly close as a family. I don’t know where either of them are now.”

“Oh.” Zip Line looked away, her eyes distant. “I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry about,” I replied. “Mum and dad separated not long after I joined the watch. Sometimes I think they only stayed together because of me, and when I left home there was nothing to keep them together any more. Dad stayed in the watch after he transferred to Fillydelphia, but when he retired he just kind of… disappeared. Mum passed away not long after.” My heart ached whenever I thought of the past, and of my folks. I loved them in my own way, but growing up they were like strangers, always fighting with each other and arguing over even the most insignificant of things. I hated it, and looked forward to the day I would finally be able to leave home and strike out on my own, determined not to emulate the disastrous relationship of my parents. I huffed and shook off the snow, rising to my hooves. That had certainly dampened the mood! “Come on Zippy, let’s get this over with, eh?”

she nodded, “Yeah.”

Right on cue a faint chiming began emanating from the brass direction finder and I floated it out in front of me for closer inspection. The dial was vibrating now, with the chiming sound announcing the proximity of the lost soul. “What do you think?” I asked.

Zip Line moved closer to inspect the device. “Not far. I’d say a little further along the gulley.”

She was right. Not far ahead of us the pure white of the snow field dipped away, dropping down into a shallow gulley that was thick with snow and rocks which had fallen from the mountain towering above us. In the pristine tapestry of the mountains it was like a scar on the landscape, a wound that had never healed. It didn’t take us long to find her though, I could hear her calling for her mother, the faint sound of sobbing a heart rending staccato to the silence of her final resting place.

Mummy?

Mummy where are you?

I’m frightened, I want to go home!

The voice was more akin to thoughts than actual words, reminiscent of the way thestrals communicated by somehow tapping straight into your mind. But irrespective of their method of delivery, the foal’s sense of fear and distress pulled urgently at my heart and gave renewed strength to my efforts. This could have been my daughter, my son, lost and alone in this bleak expanse of cold emptiness. Tears began to sting the corners of my eyes as I broke into as near a gallop as I could manage in the cloying snow. It pulled endlessly at me, sucking me down, denying me the speed I so desperately wanted. Beside me, Zip Line had launched into the air, and even borne down with her armour and winter gear she was able to pull ahead. I saw her land and look around, trying to find the source of the cries. And there, just behind a rock, we finally saw her. She ducked down when she caught sight of us, but her mane was still visible. It raised a smile to my face despite my sweating and panting.

“Tehma? Come out little one, it’s alright now, we won’t hurt you. We’ve come to take you home.” Zip Line’s words were so soft, so motherly, that they couldn’t fail to appeal to anypony, let alone a foal. Even me with my lifetime of unpleasant baggage and hangups, felt a pang of longing. And slowly, surely, a little face poked out from behind the rock.

“Who are you?” the foal asked. “I don’t know you. Are you from the village?”

“We’re from the eternal herd,” Zip Line said gently. “We’ve been sent to come and take you to a place where your family are waiting to see you. It’s all nice and warm, with sunshine all day long. You’ll be able to play games and meet other foals too, so you’ll have lots of friends. Won’t that be nice?”

“I… I don’t know.” The little foal hesitated and retreated behind the rock slightly. “Mummy says I shouldn’t go anywhere with strangers.

“And she’s very wise to say that,” Zip Line said with a bob of her head. “But we can’t leave you here all alone, can we?”

“I want my mummy.”

“I know, Tehma, I know.” The black mare took her helmet off and sat on her haunches. “I promise you you’ll see your mummy again, but you can’t stay here or she won’t know where to find you, will she?”

Tehma hung her head, “No...”

Zip Line nodded, “So out we come then, and let’s get you home. I tell you what, I’ll get you a big bowl of ice cream when we get back too. You can have all the sugar sprinkles, wafers, and nut toppings you could ever dream of!”

The little foal scrunched up her face. “What’s ice cream?”

“What’s…?” Zip Line’s train of thought derailed and I quickly jumped into the conversation.

“It’s cold, sweet, and tastes of rainbows and dreams - all scrummy and tasty and melts like the snows of winter on your tongue.” I gave her a wink, “I like the crunchy nut toppings best, but you can have anything you want there. Even hot fudge drizzle!”

“Don’t be silly, you can’t put hot things on cold things. They’ll melt,” Tehma chided me.

“Humph! Says the girl who’s never had ice cream.” I stuck my tongue out playfully. “Anyway, I bet I could eat loads more than you could.”

“You’re bigger than me,” Tehma snorted.

“But I’ve only got a small tummy,” I replied with an exaggerated sniff. “Anyway, hot fudge on ice cream is super nice, and I challenge you, Tehma, to an eating competition when we get back. First to eat their ice cream first wins a big prize. Deal?”

A dark brown foal with a surprisingly long haired coat crunched out from behind the rock. Big yellow eyes watched me quizzically. “What sort of prize?”

I shrugged, “A day out at the water park?”

“I don’t like water.”

“Any film of your choice?”

“I don’t know what that is.”

“Okay, let’s see...” I scratched my chin in thought. I was rapidly running out of ideas here...

Tehma beat me to it, “I want a big jug of Belth and a bag, no, a sack of candied Yelfad!”

Zip Line opened her mouth in surprise. “What in Equestria are they?”

“Deal,” I nodded, and held out my hoof. “But first, the ice cream and then the rest, okay?”

Tehma nodded and paused, looking over her shoulder at something buried under the snow. “Am I going to see the goddess, now?”

“Yes, little one,” I nodded with a smile. “I think we can arrange that for you.”

“Fairlight,” Zip Line whispered. “I don’t think we should be making promises like-”

“The goddess will want to meet a foal, surely.” I lifted my head and smiled down at the small foal. “And if not, I have another friend who we could ask.”

“That wouldn’t happen to be Princess Luna, by any chance?” Zip Line said with a raised eyebrow. “Best pals now, eh?”

“Luna?” Tehma chirped in, her earlier reticence vanished like morning dew. “Are you friends with the moon goddess? Really?”

“I am,” I replied with a cheeky grin. “Princess Luna and I are good friends, and I bet she’d love to come and visit you. But you’d have to be on your very best behaviour, okay?”

“Luna!” The foal’s eyes lit up. “I want to see the goddess!”

“You got it, Tehma.” I nodded to Zip Line, “Let’s get her home.”

I couldn’t look at the body under the snow. It didn’t matter now anyway, the small life that had been ended so cruelly in the cold of the mountains, snuffed out as easily as a candle in a hurricane, was over. The tiny soul before us was what was important now. She had only used those sad remains as a vessel until the day she could return to home, her true home, safe in the herd. There she would be able to play, learn and grow the way she should have in life. In some respects it was akin to the life cycle of the phoenix; we were born, struggled throughout all our trials in the world, died, and were then reborn in the herd with a fresh chance to start again. Perhaps it wasn’t the best, or even the most accurate analogy I could have picked, but it worked well enough. When your job was to collect the souls of children I’d take any comfort I could, if for no other reason than to stop myself breaking down into a sobbing heap of helpless emotional distress.

I moved my focus to the foal trotting along beside us, and the way she almost glided effortlessly over the snow. Looking at Tehma with her long thick hair and her dark mane, she looked unlike any pony I’d ever seen. In fact she looked almost yak-like from some angles, albeit without the bulk and horns of course. Everypony learned of the equestrian tribes of the north in school - they were the ones who had shunned life in the green fields and forests of Equestria and instead had made a life for themselves in the most unforgiving place they could find. As to why they’d even consider such a drastic direction for their people was anyponies guess, but considering my wendigo heritage I was hardly in a position to criticize others who wanted to separate themselves from the wider equine society. In any case, I’d never met one of these enigmatic ponies in person before and I would have liked to have had more time to talk her. She was from a place few would even consider visiting, let alone call home. Unless you were a wendigo. The mountains were a place where my own people, my own tribe, had found their new life far away from the bickering of the other tribes. Where once there was little more than ice, rock and snow, they had built a home, just like Tehma’s people. When I closed my eyes I could still hear the cry on the wind, the song on the breeze as the wind blown snow caught my ears and tousled my mane. Home was where the heart was indeed. I could almost see them now, soaring on the air currents, swooping and singing with the sheer joy of life. The wendigo. My people. Home... I could see the turrets and the battlements in my minds eye, the towers of blue ice soaring high into the sky as thin as needles and as beautiful as the sun in the winter sky. It was where we came from, and where all things ended. It was the fortress where the winds of the world met and played their own symphony of magic in the blue sky. The fortress of the four winds.

“Fairlight?”

Fairlight. Son of Equestria. Son of the tribe. I wanted to fly, I wanted to dance and sing upon the wind. My brothers and sisters... They couldn’t all be gone, could they? No. Some had survived. I knew they had from what Zip Line had told me. I could still find them. I could find a way to join them and go home. I could go home!

“Captain Fairlight!”

A pair of large eyes appeared in my vision in a face of black with a white stripe down her muzzle. She reminded me of the girl I’d met so long ago, in a place of emptiness and sand as black as her fur. “Shadow...”

“Eh?” Zip Line gave me a shove as she put her helmet back on. “Stop daydreaming and get your arse in gear. It’s time to-”

A voice called out from the snow making both of us look round in surprise. “Tehma?” Again, louder this time. “Tehma!” It was getting nearer.

“Oh, hell!” Zip Line looked at me in alarm, her eyes wide. “Fairlight, we have to go now! We can’t let the little one see any relatives or she could anchor herself here and it’ll be the devil’s own job to get her away then!”

Relative? Damn it all, Zip Line was right. Tehma was already starting to look towards the shouting, her ears locking onto the voice with all the curiosity of youth. “Mummy?”

Oh no… I watched in horror as a larger, shaggier version of our little soul appeared from the other end of the rock strewn snowfield. The snow didn’t phase her, nor slow her down in the way it did with Zip Line and I. This mare near floated over the whiteness, her long hair covering her eyes and hanging down so much I could barely see her legs.

“Tehma?” The mare’s keen eyes spotted the rocks, and the mound covered in rubble. A howl of distress emanated from her as she charged forward, ploughing her way through the snow and detritus that covered the mangled corpse of her daughter.

“Damn this bulky crap, I can hardly reach the damned thing!” Zip Line was working frantically, pulling at her panniers to find the device that would send us home. “Fairlight, keep Tehma close. I’m going to open the portal. As soon as it’s open we have to move straight away, got it?”

“Got it.” I put my hoof around Tehma, trying to turn her attention from the mare behind us, but it was an exercise in utter futility. Tehma knew her mother and was already starting to pull away from me. “Tehma, listen to me. We can’t stay here,” I said gently. “Your mummy will come soon too, okay?”

The little foal was as slippery as a greased snake and shot out from my grip, her attention focussed fully on the mare digging in the snow. “Mummy? MUMMY!”

“Fairlight, stop her!” Zip Line shouted.

I dug my hooves in and surged forward, charging after foal. Gods damn it, how the hell was she so fast on such tiny legs?!

“Fairlight! Hurry!” Zip Line shouted again.

Snow flew up from Tehma’s hooves as she dodged away from me. I spat out a mouthful of snow and struggled to regain my balance. “Damn it, mare, what the hell do you think I’m trying to do!” I shouted back.

“Tehma!” Completely unaware of her daughter’s soul’s headlong rush towards her, the mare’s frantic digging finally slowed. And then, breathing hard... she stopped. “Tehma…” Her eyes closed, the mare gently reached down and took out the broken remnants of what had once been her child. “Tehma...” Tears as cold as rain slipped down mare’s face and dropped onto the body of beloved her daughter. She was silent, her eyes closed and her body shaking with the emotion surging through her.

“Mummy? Mummy what’s wrong?” Tehma tried to reach for her mother, but as she leaned forward, her forelegs passed right through her. “Mummy?”

I reached Tehma just as a silver flash of light behind me announced the portal to the herd opening. There was no time now, I had to get her away from the heart rending scene in front of us. “Tehma, come on now.”

“But… I can’t touch her…” Tehma stared down at her hooves as though seeing them for the first time. “Why? What’s going on? I don’t like it!”

I could see a whirlwind of emotion just waiting to be unleashed from the wide eyes of the child standing in front of me. She was confused, dazed and lost. It was the opportunity I need. “Sorry about this, Tehma, but we have to go.” Without wasting any more time I enveloped the foal in my magic and hoisted her into the air.

“Wha-? Put me down! Mummy! MUMMY!”

Goddess damn me, my ears! If there was one thing that I couldn’t abide it was children screaming, and two feet from my poor lugs was definitely too close by far!

“MUMMY!”

I turned and charged towards the portal in a loping gait that rapidly started to sap my remaining strength. Thank the gods I didn’t have far to go. Held above me in a ball of blue magic, the foal howled and screamed in the most heartbreaking wails of distress that made me feel as though I was like one of those monsters in a child’s nursery rhyme that steals young ones away in the night. At least her mother was unaware of the chaos not twenty yards from her. But to her, to that mare, her grief was something I couldn’t bear to witness.

“TEHMA! TEHMAAA!”

And then it happened...

A sudden blast of ice cold wind rushed past me, gathering pace and swirling around the gully, creating eddies that whipped up plumes of white crystalline snow that filled the air like blasts of steam emanating from the earth. I’d never seen anything like it in my life, and I hesitated, staring at the scene before me in shocked wonderment.

“Fairlight! For the goddesses’ sake, come on!” Zip Line leaped into the air, grabbed Tehma, and with a sweep of her wings, plunged into the silver light of the portal.

I barely noticed. Open mouthed I looked on as the wind grew in strength, the air beginning to howl around her, echoing the cries of grief from the mare. She screamed. She screamed at the world, the gods, at the cruelty of fate that had stolen her child from her. Tears fell like hail as the storm of misery and loss howled and screeched in sympathy.

And then I saw them.

High above her they were gathering. Gradually coalescing in the whirlwind of sorrow, their eyes glowing blue, their vague yet unmistakably equine forms, sang with her. They cried for her grief, they added their own agony to the world and drank it all. It fed them. It nourished them. My eyes never left them nor their sweeping majestic and terrifying forms. They were the snow, the sky, and the spirits of the mountains combined. Transparent yet as real to me as my own body, the creatures rose and fell, dove and climbed, round and round and round.

Wendigo.

“Fairlight?” Zip Line reappeared, placing her hoof on my shoulder and her voice strong and commanding. I could barely pull my gaze away to face her. “We can’t do anything here now, we...” She turned to stare up at the spirits dancing through the tempest of snow and harrowing despair. “Oh my goddesses.” She looked to me and then back again. “This isn’t good. This isn’t good at all! We have to go!”

“They’re wendigo,” I breathed. “They’re the spirits of the mountains, the creatures my people named themselves after. A purer, native spirit, but one that feeds upon strong emotions.”

“I know what they are!” Zip Line gave me a hard shove. “This isn’t the time for us to stop and sight see, we need to get back before the portal alignment fails. We could end up stuck here until they can sort it out again, and-”

There was a scream. A scream that sent out a shock wave of power from the very centre of the storm. In a blast which nearly took us both off our hooves, the sheer strength of the sound alone shook me to my very core. I shielded my eyes against the wind and strained to see. I could barely make it out, but there, in the centre, stood something that made my mane bristle. It was a shape of utter darkness - distinctly equine, with wings that fluttered in the storm surrounding it. At its feet lay the mare… and the dagger. The blood red snow. Above it all the wendigo span, howling as they fed on the escaping sorrow of the mare. Beside me Zip Line was shouting something, but I couldn’t hear her. I could only see the shape, the outline of darkness and the glowing eyes like fires in the night sky. It… It couldn’t be her. I knew it wasn’t, but it was so like her...

Zip Line grabbed me roughly and pulled my head to her. “Fairlight, listen to me, I’ve called for the senior teams to help us. This is way beyond our ability to deal with on our own. No more arguments, we’re getting out before the shit really hits the fan.”

“That’s Tehma’s mother,” I said over the din of the storm. “She’s… she’s a thestral.”

“It’s not what you think it is!” Zip Line shook her head, “For pity’s sake leave it, there’s no way we can take that thing on.”

“What do you ‘take it on’?” I rounded on her in shock. “What are you going to do?”

“We are not going to do anything,” she replied. “We need more hunters to destroy it before it corporealises fully in the world of the living. If that beast gets loose we’ll have a blood bath on our hooves.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “You can’t kill her!” I shouted. “She’s a living being for Luna’s sake. Thestral’s are living, breathing creatures!”

“I don’t give a toss!” Zip Line snapped. “Those things kill ponies, Fairlight. We fought a bloody war with beasts like that for bucks sake. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

“It means something when you arbitrarily set out to murder something, yes!” I hissed. “I know thestrals and-”

“This isn’t the same!” Zip Line bared her teeth and tossed her mane angrily. “I don’t have time to explain, you dummy! Just… oh, goddess preserve us.” Her eyes were as wide as saucers, reflecting the red fires as they charged at us above thundering legs as black as night.

Give me my daughter.

The thestral’s words slammed into my mind and Zip Line’s alike. A venomous edge to those cold words left no doubt as to the intent of the sender. She was prepared to kill to obtain her goal, and she would go on killing until she had sated her need. Something inside me warned me that this creature would not listen to reason, nor to even to compassion. Regardless, I had to try something before the hunters turned up and tried to turn the creature into a kebab.

I took a breath. “Your daughter is with the herd. She is safe and waiting for you.”

Give me my daughter!

“It’s not going to listen to you, you idiot!” Zip Line roared over the howling wind. “It’s driven by nothing but rage and malice. If we don’t get out of here we’ll be killed, and I don’t fancy being reincarnated just yet!”

The wendigo soared high above us, their voices high on the winds of rage as they continued their dance. I stared at them in fascination, lost in memory, lost in my own recollection of my past. I wanted to be with them, longed to dance beside my brothers and sisters. Part of me called to them, screamed at them to take me from this existence and fly away on the winds of winter. I began to walk towards them, dimly aware of Zip Line pulling at me, shouting at me to come away with her. It couldn’t be, I knew that, and yet the dark mare at the centre of the storm, so alone and desperate for her daughter, dragged at my dwindling consciousness. Within me the tight ball of ice, restrained and locked by the power of the herd… stirred. So close to these ethereal beings it lifted its head, burning me from inside, crying out in earnest. I opened my mouth, trying to call to them, trying to sing and be as one with the wind. Somewhere, somewhere in this madness, my voice cried out. It began as a low howl, and then louder. I sang. I sang the songs of the ancient ones. I revelled in the freedom and life of the mountains, the chill of the gales upon my hide and lifting my wings aloft upon the currents of the world.

Where is my daughter!

The voice called to me. A memory, not of mine but from a distant place, rose up to me and I understood. These were not my people. They were the raw energy that lived between the worlds, the spirits of the Wither World that manifested in the mortal realm. It was they who were the source of this agony for the mare, they were the spectres of her past and her current pain. I knew then, inside, what I had to do.

“Begone,” I hissed into the wind. “You have fed enough this day.”

The wendigo rose up above the swirling snow, turning their ice blue eyes to me, and in an instant, they surrounded me.

Brother. Join us. Be one with us.

“I cannot,” I called to them. “I am already joined. You cannot be with this mare, my brothers and sisters. Leave her. There is danger here. The hunters are coming.”

We are the hunters. You are one of us. Come away, brother.

“No. Begone from here.” My voice boomed out with all the force I could muster. “The mare is mine.”

Her life feeds us.

“She is mine! Begone!”

For a moment they paused, their glowing eyes burning into my own. One of them looked at me closely, its ghostly form sniffing at me as though it… knew me. And then in moment... it was over. With a flurry of snow and a blast of wind, the wendigo turned and flew up into the blue sky and vanished from sight, leaving behind them something that made my heart surge in my chest. Gone was the mare, the spirit of the Tehma’s mother. Gone was the thestral like creature she had become. It was… a foal. A beautiful, pure black foal. She was so small, so fragile, and radiated none of the malice, hatred and despair that had filled this lonely place only a few seconds before. I walked towards her slowly in a daze of confusion but still watching out for anything that might warn me of a danger I wasn’t aware of. But there was nothing, only the silence of the mountains and the sound of my own breathing.

“Fairlight?” Zip Line hurried up beside me, crunching through the snow, her eyes still wide with fright. “Leave it. For the goddesses’ sake, leave it for the hunters. I don’t know what the hell’s going on here, but we have to get back. If they find out you had something to do with this, I… I don’t know what they’ll do.”

I ignored her, my attention focussed entirely on the small life curled up in the snow and blocking out all else. “She’s a foal,” I breathed. “A thestral foal. I’ve never seen one before.”

In all my travels in the Wither World I’d never seen any younger than Shadow and her sisters. Their reproduction rates were devastatingly low, too low to maintain a population, and Star Beard had told me of his fears for the future of his race. Of course their love of war did nothing to improve matters. Movement dragged my attention back to the child. The tiny thing stirred, yawning, and looked up at me with eyes that flared like miniature camp fires. Her little mane and tail were plastered with snow, her bony frame, as black as midnight, standing out in stark contrast to the surrounding landscape. She chirruped at me, her tiny dragon-like wings fluttering and then settling down by her side. Tiny white teeth curled up over her lips, which looked absolutely adorable. Suddenly I realised I’d been holding my breath and nearly choked on my next words.

“What will they do with her?” I breathed.

Zip Line closed her eyes. “It’s best not to ask. Believe me, there are parts of this job you don’t want to enquire too much about.”

I half turned, looking up at her. “I asked, what will they do with her?”

The mare’s eyes met mine. She was visibly shaken by what had happened and licked her dry lips. “They…” Zip Line swallowed, “They’ll… purge her.”

“Purge,” I whispered. “You mean kill.”

Zip Line hung her head, her eyes closed in silent admission at the stark and brutal truth. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing, and yet… somehow I could. The herd liked harmony. The herd liked things to be smooth, calm, and all sunshine and rainbows. Thestrals didn’t fit into that idyllic picture. And so, the answer was simple – the herd killed foals. Dear goddesses, was this what it came down to? I wanted to hear it from my partner. I had to know...

“Why?” I asked quietly.

“Because… because we have to,” Zip Line whispered. “We don’t have a choice in the matter.”

“We all have a choice,” I replied. My heart felt like ice, frozen colder than the frigid winter mountains surrounding us. I closed my eyes and lifted my head to the sky. “Go,” I told her. “I’ll do what has to be done. You can tell the hunters the matter has been… resolved.”

“Fairlight...” Zip Line shook her head slowly. “Don’t. Please. Leave it to them.”

“And have her death on their conscience instead?” I asked. “So we can all just walk away and try and forget it, right? Dear goddesses, is this why we’re allowed to get so drunk? To forget the horror of… of this?!” I took a deep breath and shook my mane, reaching down to the wrinkled form. “Zippy? Go. I don’t want you to see this. Please.”

“Fairlight, don’t...”

“Shush. Don’t make this any harder than it needs to be. I’ll be along in a minute.” I didn’t turn to watch her go. I felt the flash of magic tingle my horn, announcing her departure and smiled down at the little foal. She was so small. So innocent. She reached up to me with her tiny hooves and I leaned down to lift her from her frozen bed to cradle her in my forelegs. A sob tried to escape my lips but I couldn’t let her see my pain. “That’s a good girl.” I rocked the tiny thing, singing an old nursery rhyme my mother had sung to me when I was a foal. There was no need to make this helpless life, this precious flame in the darkness, suffer any more than she already had. I knew what I had to do. Even if it broke my heart to do it.

Chapter Eight - Black Lightning

CHAPTER EIGHT

BLACK LIGHTNING

The origin of the thestral race is one that has been of particular interest to me since my first forays into the heart of the northern wastes. I used to believe that these peculiar creatures were kin to the wendigo or an off shoot or mutation of some kind, however following further investigation this was not to prove the case. Nightmare Moon’s legions were summoned, not from Equestria or the further flung shores of foreign lands, but from what we know as plane of existence known as the Wither World. I had occasion to speak to these beings during their visits to the fortress of the wendigo, and what frightful things they are! They are most certainly equine in general appearance, though as alike to my equestrian brethren as dogs are to cats. I was fortunate enough to have the opportunity to study several of them who were convalescing at the fortress during the early days of the conflict and made sketches and written notes of my findings. This lengthy tome will form another volume to my writings which, I confess, I am excited to begin! In short, upon closer inspection the outward appearance of the thestral is near skeletal, with their bone structure clearly visible in a most disturbing fashion beneath their hide. Indeed, if an equestrian was as emaciated as these creatures appear it would be fair to assume sickness or malnutrition of the most severe kind. All the thestrals I have met thus far bear this feature regardless of general fitness or health, and it does not appear to be related in any way to their diet which, I am sorry to say, is that of a carnivore. Their hides are nearly always dark in hue, consisting of tones of black, green, red, blue and purple, which can be noted under certain light conditions. Their eyes are the next most notable feature and do not look like eyes as we know them at all. They, like their bearers coat colourations, come in variations such as red, white, yellow and blue. But it is their composition and outward appearance which is most striking. The eyes of the thestral flicker and burn like living flames, yet give off no heat. How this incredible feature of these beings came about is unknown to me, although it certainly would be worthy of more investigation. Next are the wings. The thestrals wings are large and cumbersome, somewhat similar in general appearance to that of the race of dragons. Leathery and heavily boned, the wings appear to be more of a hindrance than an asset to this enigmatic race. In point of fact, they often strap their wings down or cover them in armour to keep them out of the way in battle, preferring to fight and move on hoof. I enquired about the use of their wings and was told that, to a thestral, wings are used predominantly for travelling from one point to another. There is no joy of flight here, nor any connection with the sky and birds of the land. Rather, the wings are seen as a tactical asset and no more. Now, I made mention earlier that these creatures are carnivorous in nature, and it is one of the most telling features of this race. Unlike equestrians their teeth are sharp and arranged for tearing, rather than chewing. I am pleased to say that ponies like myself and my country folk are not on the menu, however! Instead, the thestrals eat creatures such as fowl, game, sheep, pigs and cattle as part of their diet. Although disturbing to many, it is not unusual considering the eating habits of other carnivorous races such as the griffins. In short however, the origins of these peculiar creatures are shrouded in the folklore and legends of their seers more than in historical fact. Before the gateway to the Wither World, or ‘Withers’ as it is known colloquially, was opened, nopony had heard of them, nor are there any written records I have been able to find in any of the great libraries of Equestria. Some day I hope to visit their home world and find out more. At least, once this dreadful war has been concluded. Then, I should like to meet them as friend rather than foe. At which time I hope their dietary needs will have remained pony free!

Extract from the personal diary of Star Swirl the Bearded.

“Okay, just what the hell was going on back there, mister?!” Zip Line followed me down the corridor tossing her mane angrily as I made for the locker room. “Don’t you turn your back on me! Fairlight!”

I pulled off my tunic and roughly shoved it onto the hanger. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I don’t give a toss! I want you to tell me-”

“And I said I don’t want to talk about it!” I snapped, glaring back at her over my shoulder. “For buck’s sake, just drop it!”

The black coated mare pushed in closer until we were nearly muzzle to muzzle. “You listen to me, pal. Whether you like it or not we’ve been partnered up together and I have to come up with a report on what went on today, and I haven’t got a bloody clue where to begin!” Zip Line’s eyes narrowed accusingly. “You want to tell me the truth or should I just report the whole thing as it happened? It’s your call.”

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, lifting my panniers up and carefully placed them over my back. “Tell them what you like,” I said biting back an angry retort.

“Yeah, like I can do that!” Zip Line tossed her mane again, the hair bristling on her back a reflection of her rising fury. “Do you know what they’ll do to you, Fairlight? Do you?” She jabbed a hoof at me. “They’ll cleanse your soul. Again! And even then I don’t know whether they’ll accept that as being enough, and-” Zip Line slammed my locker door shut, narrowly missing my muzzle. “Are you listening to me?”

I rounded on her, “What do you want me to say, Zip? We came up against something I’ve never encountered before, and it was only by the grace of the goddess we managed to survive.” I lifted my hoof and she hurriedly backed away a step. “I did what you wanted, I did the herd’s dirty work for them, and now I have to live with what I’ve done. Me, not you. So what more do you want from me, eh? You want more detail? Some simple answer to everything that happened, is that it? Well I’ve got a newsflash for you, ‘missy’: I haven’t got a bloody clue! Is that good enough for your damned report?”

“You don’t know?” she asked in amazement.

“No!” I snorted out my frustration and headed for the door. “Put whatever you bloody well like in the report, Lieutenant. I’m going home.”

Zip Line didn’t follow me. I was angry with her, with the herd, with everything in this whole miserable damned world. The mortal realm had been nothing but suffering for me, and just when things should have been better, in the very place you expected to be left to live out yours days in peace and harmony in the heaven of Equestria - it turned out it was just as bad as the shit-tip you’d just left. Oh it was sugar coated of course, just like it had been in Equestria, and most of the ponies here, like there, saw nothing of the kind of things I’d encountered on my first two assignments. But it was there alright, a festering maggot riddled corpse of lies and deceit that was perpetuated so the souls of the afterlife could exist in peace, far away from the spectre of that most dreadful abomination - reality. For the goddess’s sake, was this how things were meant to be in the herd? Surely there had to be some rhyme or reason behind this, or at least one that made some damned sense anyway. I mean, why the hell did they kill foals? And… Something tickled at the back of my memory. It was a conversation I’d had the last time I was in the Withers, if I recalled correctly. I can’t remember who I’d been speaking to at the time, but it was something about ponies ‘becoming’ thestrals, or something like that. I can remember trying to find out more but my questions were resoundingly rebuffed as though I’d stumbled onto a taboo subject that, although acknowledged, was brushed aside as being no real importance - the proverbial ‘skeleton in the closet’ or the ‘strange relative’ nopony ever talks about. And yet they knew about this business with the foals; of that there was no doubt whatsoever.

I checked my panniers and adjusted my cloak as I trotted home across the fields. It was a beautiful day once again, but none of that made any difference to me now. Sunshine every day. Blue sky every day. Every day… perfect. Hell, right then I would have been happier with a full on storm complete with driving rain, thunder, lightning, and a wind accompaniment that screamed as loud as the howl of the northern winter. Zip Line had wanted me to give her an explanation as to what had happened, but what was I to tell her? Damn it all, even I didn’t know! The wendigo, the spirits of the mountains, were little more than ethereal entities that were attracted to strong emotions. The theatre play regarding the three tribes got that part right at least. But my ability to speak to them, or ‘project my thoughts’ at them which was probably the nearest to what I actually did that I made any sense, had come so far out of left field that I’d been as shocked by it as Zip Line was.

The state my emotions had been in since arriving in the herd had left my memories and my sense of self in utter disarray, and yet now… now I felt more like myself in an odd sort of way. I’d begun to recall faces, names, and events which I’d forgotten until now. Was this meant to happen? Hell fire, how was I supposed to know that? Everything was both confusing and yet making total sense simultaneously, creating a shifting sense of who and what I was ‘then’ with who and what I was ‘now’. It was a disorientating blend of confused thoughts that I hoped and prayed would resolve themselves over time. And time was something I didn’t necessarily have. I had Star Swirl to thank for that. My meeting between him and Maroc had never been far from my mind, but since that day I hadn’t heard anything more from him. Nor, more concerningly, had I heard from Shadow, Tingles, or Lumin. Meadow barely mentioned them now, and rather selfishly I had been living from day to day in the moment, pretending that everything was fine, that it was all going to work itself out.

Some hope…

The cottage was in darkness when I arrived. I didn’t bother to knock, there didn’t seem much point really in any case. Retrieving the heavy brass key I let myself in and carefully hung up my cloak, placing my panniers on the table before opening the fridge door to look for something suitable to eat. There were some hayburgers, alfalfa nuggets, cheese, fruit bars, juice, and some other assorted items that looked decidedly more like ingredients rather than an actual meal. To me and my limited culinary skills, food was divided into one of two categories: meals and ingredients. One I could eat, the other was something that was magically metamorphosed into the former by a power far greater than I could comprehend. It was a talent I had little aptitude for, and therefore left it to those whose domain I was currently intruding in. But as always, needs must, and I fished out a box of eggs. At the very least I could make an omelette with the cheese and tomatoes. I began to scour the cupboards and located the mixing bowl, a fork, and with the application of a little magic soon began the process of converting the dreaded ingredients into what, I hoped, would be something approached being edible. Mostly.

A few minutes later and the gastronomic delights produced by yours truly had begun to fill the kitchen with the inviting smell of cooking eggs and melting cheese. This time I’d even avoided having the smoke detector shrieking in my ear too, so that was definitely a bonus so far as I was concerned. I hadn’t realised it had been possible to burn cereal, but ever since then I’d been effectively barred from the kitchen in favour of the family chef who didn’t try to burn our home down every time they attempted something culinary. Personally I thought that was a little unfair. It had only been a small fire after all. I’ll say one thing for cooking though: It was therapeutic. The simple act of making a meal, even if it wasn’t anything particularly special, had a pleasant calming effect on me which I sure as hell needed right then. My heart hadn’t stopped thundering since I’d left Zip Line in the locker room, and as much as I felt guilty at my snubbing her, at the same time I believed I was fully justified in my outrage at such blatant acts of barbarity that the so called ‘royal guard’ engaged in because ‘that was the way it was’. Of course there was always the chance that Zip had been mistaken, but I doubted it. And if that wasn’t bad enough as it was, I had the decidedly unpleasant feeling that there were those, like Thalio, who would probably enjoying wringing the necks of helpless creatures simply because they were different. If I found him doing something like that I’d wring his damned neck, and enjoy doing it to, the filthy, blasted… Oops! I took the omelette off the stove and flipped it onto the plate just in time. Next, I poured out a glass of fruit juice, poured some more into a bowl, and cut the omelette in half, placing the other half on a plate next to the bowl.

Beside me, the pannier moved.

A faint snuffing noise and scrabbling emanated from within the pack that was normally stuffed with my civilian clothing or any other assorted odds and ends I could cram in there. It was certainly not intended for the kind of transport I had pressed it into service for this time, but needs must when the devil drives. And another need had to be catered for now too. I couldn’t help but raise a relieved smile as the snuffing intensified, growing louder as a small black muzzle tentatively pushed its way out of the unlatched flap, homing in on the hot cheese and tomato omelette. Watching quietly I tucked into my own meal as a slender foreleg emerged, soon followed by the other. A small black coated skeletal face with two small red flames for eyes peered out, and began to move slowly but surely towards the steaming food. I kept eating, pretending to ignore the small creature, but I knew she was watching me just as curiously as I was her. Carefully, the black muzzle inched ever closer to the omelette. Sniff. Sniff. Sniff. The tiny nose drew in the rising steam, and quick as a flash a small blue tongue darted out and took a taste. In the blink of an eye she was out of the pannier and on her prey, tearing chunk after chunk off the hot gooey omelette, gulping it down with complete abandon. For a second I worried I’d left it too hot for her. After all, she was only a child and they were normally delicate things that needed constant care and observation. To an adult a home was a home, but to a foal it was a death trap of boiling kettles, hot pans, lit fires, and plummeting falls from chairs. I hadn’t been here when my daughter was born, and by the time I arrived in the herd she’d grown up considerably. But that certainly didn’t mean she wasn’t capable of bumping into things or hurting herself accidentally. Add curiosity and wings into the equation and you had a recipe for disaster. Speaking of wings, the tiny thestral’s own wings were utterly adorable. They were so small! I chuckled under my breath, watching her as she ate. What a strange creature she was. I couldn’t fathom for the life of me how she had changed from a pony to the skeletal child I saw before me now. Oh sure, Zip Line had given me a very brief explanation, but it didn’t seem possible somehow. In fact, if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes there was no way I would have ever believed such an implausible story. That said, I was hardly an expert on magic. I remember Meadow trying to teach me more of the intricacies of magic with a copy of ‘Thaumaturgical Fundermental’s’ once. The author had lied. The enormous tome was far from being any fun at all and was more akin to stuffing your brain into a blender and trying to put the resultant mess back together. I’d tried to explain my hypothesis to my wife of course, that ponies didn’t need to know the ins and outs of how magic actually worked, only to be reminded that the book was intended for ‘ages four and up’. I was definitely in the ‘up’ category, and boy did I feel it! Blasted nonsense. You learned by doing. I learned by doing. I could lift objects, float them around, manipulate them. Hell, I could ever create fire! Well, a very small one. It was handy for lighting pipes and cigars or as a makeshift lantern, and I went down a storm at parties with that trick. But as for teleportation, floating in the air in bubbles of magic or working with complex spell matrices? Um… no. No, that was where Meadow came in and left me to the more ‘manual’ applications. Now on the other hoof, when it came to my wendigo magic, now that was the good stuff! I could turn things into icicles, blast ponies into pieces with… I could draw the life energy from… I hung my head and sighed. Was that all that I could do? Float a few objects, light a flame the size of a lit match and… kill. At least I could fly, right? I could soar and swoop and… Yeah, right. I used to be able to do that.

A chirrup followed by an uncomfortable hiccuping noise pulled me from my melancholy mental ramblings, and back to the tiny thestral on the kitchen table. She’d gulped down the omelette that was almost as big as she was in record time. Now the reaction I should have foreseen, began. Wind. I should have cut it up, given it to her piece by piece. But oh, no! Dimwit here let her scoff the lot like a starved dog and now she was hiccuping beside herself. I reached over for the bowl of fruit juice which was promptly knocked flying to splash all over the chair and floor. Thankfully it was only wood, but now I had a bigger problem on my hooves. Quickly I scooped her up unresistingly and put her over my shoulder. Sitting on my haunches was ideal for this, and I held her in my forelegs, rubbing her back as I’d seen Tingles do with Lumin when he was near ready to pop.

“It’s alright little one,” I cooed. “One good burp and we’ll be right as-”

KRA-BOOM!

“Urp.”

I blinked. Light slowly began to reassert itself in what was left of the once pristine kitchen. The thestral looked up at me and smiled, gurgling happily as a tiny wisp of smoke drifted up from her muzzle. The after image of black lightning was seared into my retinas as much as the smell of burnt wood from what was left of the window frame clogged my nostrils. Slowly, I turned round, watching in open mouthed horror as the last piece of glass dropped from the ragged hole above the draining board to join its shattered brethren. The small window that looked out onto the garden, my beautiful garden, was now fragments of exploded… bits. BITS! What the hell was I going to do now?! Oh Celestia, what was I going to tell Meadow?! ‘Hello love, sorry about the hole in the wall, but you know how kids are, right? Oh, and by the way, have you met our new thestral foal? The royal guard wanted to kill her so I smuggled her out of the mortal realm and brought her here. Now we can carry on like one big happy family!’

I was doomed. Utterly, absolutely, and completely doomed.

It was far too late in the day to even attempt to fix it, and I sure as hell was no trained glazier by any stretch of the imagination. The best I’d be able to do would be to fashion a board and nail it over the hole until I could get a professional to look at it. That said, I was meant to be at work first thing in the morning and Meadow was still at her parents home, no doubt cursing her hapless husband to the heavens over our latest row. And here I was, alone, with a foal. And a thestral foal at that! Oh, gods, help me… There had to be something I could do to get this little thing to where she belonged. I already had two children and I could barely cope with Sparrow as it was, let alone taking on another, and a thestral foal at that. Not that I had anything against thestrals of course, Shadow was a thestral after all, but… but she was fully grown, not a… a child! I let out a groan and covered my head with my forelegs to keep my collapsing world from taking me with it into the depths. This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be happening! I had to stop panicking and keep my wits about me if I was ever going to make head nor tail of this lunacy. Come on Fairlight, there had to be something you could do! I took a deep breath, doing my best to clear my mind. Wasn’t there somepony I could speak to? Somepony who was neutral, that understood thestrals, and could… Of course! Oh goddesses, it was so obvious! Shadow wasn’t the only thestral I knew, and she’d visited my home not long after I’d died. How the hell could I have forgotten her? Relief washed over me like a bucket of cold water and I nearly collapsed to my knees with relief. Like her name, there was hope after all. A Glimmer of hope.

Some time later, with the window boarded up, the debris swept up the best I could and the thestral foal curled up on the rug in front of the fire snoozing quietly with a full tummy, I collapsed onto the settee and placed the prize of prizes on the table beside me. It had been well worth the trip to the shed even in the dead of night, and not just to find the wood I needed to board up the broken window either. Here lay my holy grail, my escape route from the world and all its intendant troubles. I closed my eyes, feeling for the jar with my magic, opened the lid... and inhaled. It was absolutely heavenly. ‘Fuddlestones Best Shag’. I’d managed to get my hooves on some of this delightful course cut tobacco from one of the guys at the barracks. It was ideal for pipes; it packed in nicely and my magic was just the ticket for fiddly work like this. As usual I’d misplaced my tamper, but the blunt end of a pencil from my stationery drawer did good enough service for this job. Meadow would fillet me if she knew, but what the hell. I needed this right now, and an irate mare complaining about the ‘funny smell’ was the least of my worries.

A lick of flame, a few puffs, and the grey-blue smoke of my own little slice of heaven began to relax parts of me that no amount of bathing or showers could ever reach. I could almost feel my muscles and mind beginning to unwind in my tobacco induced little world of bliss as nearby the foal yawned and smacked her lips with a sigh, echoing my own sentiments to a tee. What a strange little thing she was! So small. So fragile. Emaciated in appearance as all thestrals looked, she had scoffed the omelette down without skipping a beat before drinking half a bottle of carrot and orange juice. I watched her from my comfortable perch with a stupid smile spread across my face. She really did look like a miniature version of Shadow, from her teeth to her mane, right down to the tip of her tail. The similarity wasn’t surprising considering that thestrals did tend to look alike, and there was no cutie mark to help distinguish them from one another either. It was the little things: coat hue, teeth, eye colour, build and so forth, that identified the individual nature of this curious race. I suppose to thestrals we ponies were the weird looking ones. We were a race of rainbow coloured creatures who, although equine, were as alien to them as they were to us. Personally I’d taken to them very quickly. I expect that when you’ve lived amongst an alien culture long enough, the differences between races ceased to matter anyway. A case in point was Shadow. She was, to many ponies, absolutely terrifying. One of the tribe had even thought she was one of the ponies of the apocalypse of all things! Death come on wings of pure darkness to claim their soul, or some such nonsense. Well, I don’t know about a soul, but she’d certainly claimed my heart. As had Tingles, Lumin, Meadow and Sparrow. Sometimes I wondered if there was enough of me to go around, but it all seemed to work. After a fashion. I took out a bottle of Grimble’s brandy and poured myself a measure, taking in the sharp aroma of spirit berries and alcohol that made my nose tingle. It was my last bottle, and who knew when I would be able to get another. I looked up at the globe on the mantle piece and smiled sadly. I hadn’t heard nor seen my family in Smiling Borders for so long now I was beginning to accept that they had in all likelihood simply moved on with their lives. Maybe Tingles had found somepony else and was rebuilding her life as well as her home. I couldn’t blame her if she did, I was dead after all, living in the next world while she and the tribe lived in the small hamlet on the edge of the Everfree Forest. I’d had such good times there. Such good, good times…

*******************

It was so peaceful here, far from the noise of the towns, far even from the clamour of battle and the sounding of trumpets calling us to war. The corridors of blue ice, a blend of magic and the natural materials of the earth, surrounded me like an impenetrable labyrinth protecting my family and people from the cruelty of the others who would see us disappear from this world. The ice had been forged into such wondrous creations that scarce seemed real to those unfamiliar with the great works of the wendigo. The fortress itself had been built millennia ago, back when the tribe was a fledgeling race trudging through the blinding snow to escape the petty squabbles and bickering that typified the equestrian race. Most of the equestrian race. Here those who had sought a new path had built a home to be proud of. Not just for them, but for their children, and their childrens children. It was a monument to last the ages and to outlast the foolishness of the three tribes, they who were so hell bent on total self destruction. Here was where my ancestors belonged, and where I too belonged. They called to me, singing me to sleep in the gentle embrace of our home. Foals played in the corridors, their happy sounds a reminder of the carefree days of my own youth and a sign that all was well in the world. In our world. I turned over in the huge bed, sliding the pure white cotton sheets up to my muzzle with a deep sigh as I gazed at the window overlooking the mountain range. Wisps of cloud caught the sun’s rays, reflecting a deep orange hue the colour of a well made log fire. Even though I didn’t feel the cold, not as others, I still welcomed it, embraced it, and felt a thrum of joy singing through my veins as it filled my heart.

Wake up.

It was morning, but what was the rush to get up? I was safe here. My whole tribe were safe. There was food, wine, and best of all, good company.

Wake up. There is danger here.

Danger? I chuckled to myself and snuggled into the pillows. How ridiculous! It was as quiet as the fresh fall of snow. Shadow, Tingles and Meadow were out playing with the children, leaving me to do as I pleased until lunch time. There was plenty of time to lay around, and by the goddess I intended to squander it as much as I pleased. I’d have breakfast muffins with jam and butter when I eventually got up, with a hot cup of sweet tea with sugar and milk too. Oh, what sheer decadence! I could taste it already.

WAKE UP!

What was that? I pulled the covers over my head to block out the insistent pestering. It wasn’t Meadow was it? Oh gods, I bet it was. I’d probably forgotten to wash the dishes or something equally bloody irrelevant in the great scheme of-

SSSSSSSSSS...

“Wh… Wha-?” I blinked in surprise at the loud hissing sound coming from… right next to me! “Shi-!” In my sleep induced fuse, I flinched just in time to avoid something whizzing past my right ear and bursting through the back of the settee in plume of stuffing. Everything happened in a flash, quite literally, but not of light. The thestral foal must have snuggled into me as I slept and was now pressing into me with her back to me. In front of us in the gloom a figure stood holding what was quite clearly a crossbow in their forelegs. They were in the process of reloading it when a shriek of black lightning burst from the foal with a deafening crack. Half asleep, squashed between the foal and the settee, I was effectively helpless. My foal however, was far from it. The lightning seared across my vision, hitting the wall and blasting pieces of plaster and broken painting fragments in all directions. For my assailant it was clearly too much, and they turned and fled from the room. A moment later I floated the foal away from me and onto the floor as I pulled myself from the ruined settee. My mind was a blank. My body however had no need for such a hindering organ however, and instead acted on pure instinct. I hurled myself into the hallway, ducking as the expectant crossbow bolt fizzed over my head. Whoever it was was a damned good shot, I’ll give them that. Unfortunately for them, they weren’t quite good enough. My hind legs powered me up and forward, surging towards the door and the empty space where my attacker had been barely a heartbeat ago. Dodging around the door, ducking, seeking cover behind the garden stool store… I was alone. The gate was closed. The garden utterly silent.

A light chirrup behind me tugged at my attention, pulling me away from any pursuit. Not that I could have anyway; the attacker, whoever or whatever they were, was long gone. Magic perhaps? No, I doubted it. Teleportation required a high degree of proficiency in magic, and left not only a telltale flash but my horn hadn’t itched once. That suggested either somepony who was incredibly fast and could clear the gate in one jump, or one with wings. Despite the thundering of my heart I hadn’t heard the sound of hooves, so an assassin with wings seemed the most plausible explanation. But why? I had enemies certainly, but in the paradise of the eternal herd any such negative emotions were supposedly suppressed or removed. Supposedly. And besides, why now? I’d been here some time now and the only thing I’d done to upset anypony was rescue this tiny life from being ‘purged’. I’d not told anypony what I’d done and surely this didn’t constitute the kind of offence that warranted state sanctioned murder? Only the gods knew for sure, and they were now well and truly on my official suspect list, along with more ponies than I cared to recall. I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised something like this would happen sooner or later. I’d made plenty of enemies in my life, many of whom would have harboured grudges against me for what I did, rightly or wrongly. Fairlight was certainly no angel, dead or alive.

My heart was still hammering in my chest as I leaned against the now closed front door, breathing harder than I had since my arena sparring session. I had to keep my wits about me and my senses keen. Any possibility of sleep was out of the question now. Besides, the little foal was wide awake and chattering incessantly, walking backwards and forwards in a state of not inconsiderable agitation. And who could blame her? If it wasn’t for her I’d be a blank soul by now, reincarnated into something only the goddess knew what, and the old Fairlight would simply cease to be. As much as that may appeal to some who had tired of eternity in paradise, for me it was a terrifying prospect and one that I didn’t want for either myself or the little thestral. I quickly picked her up and put her on my back. It was the best place for her right then, and the best for my peace of mind knowing where she was. I was well aware that another attack could come at any moment, despite the possibility being remote. With the attacker foiled and clearly not wanting to be seen, he, or she, was likely to be long gone. The foal chirruped at me again, watching me close the curtains and bolt the doors. I was short on weaponry to be sure. No sword, no axe, no nothing - only a long bladed knife I’d purloined from the kitchen cupboard. If was attacked by carrots or swede they’d be in some real trouble.

Morning came with the familiar chorus of garden birds I used to enjoy listening to whilst lying beside my wife in bed. Instead of this more idyllic start to the day I was in the kitchen, jacked up on copious amounts of caffeine and listening for even the barest hint of any sound I didn’t recognise. The foal was with me, as safe as she could be with an assassin’s target sat next to her. The grandfather clock chimed: One. Two. Three. Four. Five o’clock. Good goddesses, I’d been up all this time left with a sleeping child, my strained nerves, and my own damnable thoughts for company. Reasons, possibilities, motives: none of my many hypotheses were any good, and there were simply too many to count in any case. Far too many. The worst of the bunch were already in the bowels of Tartarus. Some, like Velvet Cream, were still out there. Velvet however was just a stooge. I knew that. The real brains behind murdering my then pregnant wife and the attempt on my life, was the Watch Commissioner. She was the one who had masterminded the whole damned thing. As to precisely why, I was still unsure. On the surface it was to do with smuggling weapons in from the human world, and as a watchstallion heading the investigation I had apparently been a little too effective in thwarting their efforts. But like a gangrenous limb, the rot went far deeper than the surface suggested. The commissioner had also had a hoof in the invasion of the changelings, and from what I could tell there was a far larger plan at play here. Perhaps one to unseat the princesses themselves from power. As far fetched as it seemed, the pieces were all slotting into place one after another. Canterlot had been attacked, large numbers of non-equestrian weapons imported, and changelings in the very heart of Equestria conspiring with the commissioner along with that human that looked like a pony, Annabelle, all combined to create a state of affairs that sounded like something out of a cheap crime novel. Or a paranoid lunatics ramblings. Whatever had happened to the human I neither knew nor cared, despite allegedly carrying my child. What I did care about was what that damned wizard had told me about Vela targeting my son, Lumin. Vela’s deranged vision of re-establishing the tribe of the four winds as a power base to topple the equestrian elite sounded like the ravings of a mad pony. How much truth there was in it was debatable, but I couldn’t take a chance when it came to my son’s safety. Not that I could do anything about it now. The dead couldn’t simply come back to life, no matter how much we wished it to be true. In my case there had been that tentative link, that ‘spark, that others had fanned back to a blaze so I could do their dirty work for them. The princesses had used me as their puppet, as well intentioned as it may have been. I certainly had no love for Celestia, nor her for me, but she had been true to her word and returned the lands to the tribe. Such as they were. A ruined fortress, a mass of dangerous forest alive with creatures that could tear you apart in the blink of an eye, and a small hamlet of rickety cottages was hardly what you could call prime real estate. Even so, I had no doubt that there would be a price for all of that magnanimity, and that would be my compliance in the white alicorn’s political machinations.

Still, I suppose it was a little late for that now.

I sighed and rubbed my temples with a weary hoof. I was hot, sticky, and desperately uncomfortable. I wanted nothing more than to slip into the shower and wash all the sweat and dirt off my fur, but that would have left me open to being snuck up on again should our ‘friend’ decide to return and finish the job. I don’t know whether I’d read one too many crime thrillers, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to find out the hard way. Instead, a wash with a sponge and a quick rub over with a towel for both myself and my new companion was the order of the day. The thestral took it all in her stride, chirruping and clicking at me in her own childish attempts at speech. Meanwhile I pulled on my panniers, stuffed the last of the supplies I’d been able to squirrel away into them any which way I could, and adjusted the saddle harness. I didn’t normally wear such oddities – they were the domain of the more ‘fashion conscious’ - but this one had been used by Meadow to carry Sparrow around when she was only a tot. Not that she was much bigger now anyway, but short of tying her down the energetic little pest was more than capable of flying out of forelegs reach in the blink of an eye, effectively negating the use of said saddle basket. I’d suggested sticky tape once, only to receive a whack on the muzzle for my attempt at humour. Everypony’s a critic I suppose.

The thestral watched me happily, quietly letting me wrap her up in a hooded onesie that I’d absolutely hated when I’d first laid eyes on it. Of course Meadow liked the damned thing, but personally I thought it made Sparrow look ridiculous. Now it had come out of retirement - narrowly avoiding becoming future rags for my shed - to hide a young thestral from the inquisitive gaze of curious equines. For myself a long overcoat did the job of hiding my cutie mark, and with the application of a smart hat for my noggin the entire ensemble made me look like any old grey stallion out with his daughter for the day. Or at least I hoped it would. The real question though was how I going to reach the thestral realm. I could go to Meadow’s parents home and speak to my absent wife of course, but I couldn’t face bringing trouble to her or her folks. No. This was my task now, and my task alone. I was all too aware how trouble followed me everywhere I went and I’d seen too many friends and loved ones fall to risk Meadow, Sparrow, Merry and Pop in yet another of my madcap schemes. It was time for me to cast off the comfy, cosy life here in paradise and reclaim the old Fairlight. The real Fairlight.

“Guess this is it then, little one.” I gave the thestral a tickle, smiling at her purring response. What a fascinating cre- No. No, she was not a ‘thing’, she was a living, breathing being, and one whom I owed my life to. As such, she should have a name. It came to me immediately. “Shades,” I said quietly. It was the name I’d given Shadow when I’d first met her and assumed her to be one of the less sentient denizens of that world of black sand. Shades… A child born of pain and darkness, born to a world that had no place for her. She was in truth a shade, here in the paradise where there should only be gentleness, compassion and love. An idealistic view that I doubted had ever truly existed, nor perhaps ever could. Shades. Or perhaps something that didn’t sound like a dodgy pop star or a pair of sunglasses. Hmm… Shade. Yes. Yes, that would suit her perfectly. “Shade,” I said to her with a nod. “Do you like that, love?”

“Ack!”

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’ then,” I chuckled.

Sometimes life, or death, had a strange way of throwing you a smile when all you could see was darkness and helplessness. Or was it because here, in this world of uncertainty and unseen possibilities, I was truly at home. Maybe. How the hell should I know? When I was a foal I used to think that there was this magical period in your life when you became an adult that suddenly all the answers to life were revealed to you. What a load of bollocks that turned out to be! All I found out about growing older was that you ceased to be cute in the eyes of those around you and ponies simply began to see you as just another adult. You weren’t special, you weren’t important to anypony, you were just… you. Some of my school friends had gone on to bigger things in life, whilst others took on the more mundane, dare I say ‘normal’ life, of job, house, wife, and two point four kids. But all of them had one thing in common: none of them had kept in touch. Thick as thieves at school, and now it was as if we’d never known each other. I think in my case it was just as well really. Who the hell would want to be mixed up in the crap I’d had thrown at me since joining the watch? But that was the nexus of the watch, wasn’t it? The watch became your family. Your workmates were more than your friends, they were your comrades, you teammates. And all of it, every single solitary crumb of it, was a lie. When the edifice of fellowship and caring crumbled away, the whole lot fell like a rotten stump in a thunderstorm. Nopony truly cared. When the crap hit the fan and you needed somepony to stick their neck out to speak up for you, all they cared about was themselves. You couldn’t blame them really, sticking your head above the parapet was likely to get you a crossbow bolt through your skull and a one way ticket to the afterlife – metaphorically or literally. No, my view of friends had changed a lot since those idealistic days of my youth. It was fun to be with them, laugh and drink with them, but when it came down to the wire, there was only one pony I could truly rely on, and that was myself. Who else would have my own best interests more at heart? Perhaps I was being a little cynical, but the evidence spoke for itself. Even my loved ones: Meadow, Tingles, Shadow, and all the tribe. Self preservation outweighed loyalty, friendship, and even on occasion... love. To sacrifice yourself to save the one you loved was an ideal, and one that had once meant a great deal to me. By the goddess, how idealistic I’d been. And how foolish.

A soft feeling of something pushing into my back followed by a purring, clicking sound, made my mane shiver. It was such a gentle feeling, such a simple gesture, and yet one that conveyed more meaning than words could ever hope to evoke. Shade watched me from under her hood, her head cocked on one side curiously. “I’m alright, love,” I said with a smile. I locked the front door and slipped the key into its usual hiding spot under the plant pot. “Ready for off?”

“Ack!”

I couldn’t have put it better myself. And so, closing the gate behind us, two unlikely travellers trotted off up the long road from the cottage that lead to town.

********************

Haven. At first glance it was little more than a larger version of Ponyville where I’d worked before transferring to Manehattan. It was hardly what you’d call a bustling metropolis, but then in the herd medieval chic was all the rage - sarcasm notwithstanding of course. Ponies dressed in the latest fashions trotted about lost in their own little worlds, as indeed was I to some extent. I didn’t want to bump into anypony I knew, and the bundled up thestral on my back was, thank the goddess, mercifully quiet throughout our journey. Whether it was because she sensed the danger she was in or simply that she was tired, didn’t matter. It was the end result that we needed here, and that was in front of me now: the rather unimaginatively name ‘Tourist Information Office’. Tourism. In the afterlife. How deliciously surreal! I’d never been here before. Meadow and I had always planned on visiting the thestral realm to see Glimmer and her family, yet it had been put off time after time. And I knew why too; it was because of me. I’d been too ‘ill’ to travel according to the doctors, and Meadow didn’t want to take a chance on it affecting me. And so, we simply hadn’t gone. Now, I had no choice in the matter.

The tourist information office was a small round building with a tall pointed roof and a highly polished weather vane sitting on top, reminding me of a rather large cupcake. Posters promoting popular destinations, upcoming events and any manner of holiday resorts, littered the walls, many of them simply glued over previous ones. The doorbell tinkled pleasantly as I entered this mysterious world of possibilities, unveiling a myriad of leaflets and yet more brightly coloured promotional material. Whoever worked here was apparently lacking in motivation however, at least judging by the still prominent poster that hung on a large easel advertising the water festival that had already been and gone. Beyond the easel, behind the desk with its towers of brochures that nearly every home had languishing forgotten in the bottom of seldom opened cupboard drawers, lounged a red and white patched mare quietly reading a book. She adjusted her spectacles and turned the page as I approached.

“Good morning,” I said politely.

The mare didn’t move. “We don’t open for another hour yet,” She announced, waving a hoof indicating the clock on the wall. It was exactly eight o’clock.

“The sign says ‘open’ on the door,” I said politely, “and there’s no opening times on there.”

The mare continued reading her book. “The opening times are on the desk in front of you and on the backs of the brochures.”

My mane began to twitch irritably. “Both of which are inside the shop,” I pointed out.

The mare’s voice retained its monotone pitch as she replied simply, “We open at nine.”

“But you’re here now!” I was starting to lose my temper and felt my ear twitch, a sure sign I was going to end up saying something I’d probably regret later.

The mare sighed and closed her book with an emphatic snap before slowly rising to her hooves. In a display of exaggerated effort she turned to face me, her brown eyes locking onto mine as she adjusted her spectacles. “We open at nine,” she said dangerously. “Please come back then and I will be delighted to attend to your every holidaying whims, no matter how...” She tailed off, her gaze sliding past my face to the bundle on my back.

“Urk! Ack!”

The mare’s eyes went wide, “Wha… What’s that on your back?!”

“I’ve...” I’ve what? A thestral foal I brought from the mortal realm? She’d have the royal guard on me faster than you could blink. I had to think of something fast before she began yelling. “I’ve been looking after my niece,” I explained politely. “It’s time for her to go home and I need to arrange travel to the thestral realm. Adult and one child, please.”

The mare narrowed her eyes and peered at me warily. “I don’t recall a thestral foal ever coming through the portal. I think I would have remembered something so unusual.”

I hung my head and sighed loudly, “Madam, I have two foals of my own already. One here in the herd, and one in the mortal realm. I’ve been looking after my friend’s daughter while she’s been away visiting relatives. Now, I may not look like it, but I can assure you that I am this child’s uncle, and have been acting as her guardian whilst she’s been staying with my family.” I put my hoof on the desk and she watched it like it was a rattlesnake poised ready to strike. “I’m sure that as a mare you will be well aware how a child can put the most strenuous demands on your attention day and night, especially one as young as this.” I tried what I hoped was the kind of a smile only a desperate parent could give. “Please, she misses her mother, and I miss my sleep!”

The mare rolled her eyes, “I suppose I can help. Even if it is before nine.” She clucked her tongue and began rummaging under the desk. “When were you planning on going?”

“Now.”

She paused, “What, like now, now?”

“Do you have any idea what a thestral is like when they get cranky?” I asked. I leaned across the desk conspiratorially. “They burp… lightning.”

The mare’s eyes shot open, “No!”

I nodded. “Kitchen window destroyed, painting in the lounge obliterated, re-plastering, re-painting, the list goes on and on.” It wasn’t far from the truth. I groaned and gave her my best ‘foal eyes’ impression. “My wife’s away with her parents because her nerves can’t handle it any more. She doesn’t know the half of the damage the little pest has done while she’s been away, and I have to get the repairs done before she comes home! Please!” I sniffed and held my foreleg up to my face. “I can’t cope, I… I just...”

A large book appeared in front of the mare like magic. “It’s alright, sir, don’t worry, we’ll get you on your way.” She quickly began leafing through the book, “Honestly, I thought you were just another of those weirdos wanting tickets for ‘The adventures of Marbles the magic farting horse’ which is playing here next week. You wouldn’t believe how many stallions have been midering me for those! Hundreds I tell you, hundreds! Why anypony would want to see something so depraved is simply mind boggling!”

“I’ve never heard of it,” I said in genuine surprise. “Don’t they censor things like that?”

“Oh, it’s all about ‘shock value’ and ‘pushing the boundaries of taste’ or some such rubbish.” The mare adjust her spectacles and ran a hoof down the page. “I’m frankly amazed that anypony would find such perverted tripe entertaining in the slightest. Ah! Here we go.” She tapped her hoof on an entry. “We had a cancellation and can fit you in for a portal jump this afternoon at two. I’ll need to arrange some travel papers first, and once that’s sorted you can be on your way.” She took a breath, “Right then!” A large sheet of paper was deposited in front of my muzzle along with a quill and ink. “Name?”

“Fairlight Loam,” I said. “Rose Tree Cottage, Little Haven.”

“And the little one?”

“Shade.”

“Hmm.” The mare looked up at me, “Typical thestral name. And you’re the guardian, yes?”

“Acting guardian,” I replied. “Her mother is Glimmer of the tribe of the Beyond.”

“Ah, yes, the whole ‘tribal’ thing.” She raised an eyebrow, “We had one through here a little while ago, you know. Terrifying creature! Eyes like flames and so thin you could see her bones! She was positively emaciated! Anyway, we have a policy here of keeping them covered up so they don’t frighten ponies. Some of them here died at the hooves of those beasts.”

“I can imagine...” I said, biting back a reply. Nothing like a little racism to warm the cockles of your heart, was there?

“Well I’m glad you understand, Mr Loam,” the mare said with a nod of her head. “And I’m pleased to see you keep your, erm… ‘niece’, covered up too. There are those who aren’t happy with travel between the realms as it is, and it’s only allowed through the good graces of the royal family.”

“Praise the gods,” I said with a formal bob of my head.

“Praise them indeed.” The mare and I completed the form, and duly two tickets were produced along with yet another piece of paper.

“What’s this?” I asked.

“Standard waiver,” the mare explained. “Whenever a pony travels to dangerous realms they have to sign a waiver to agree that they are taking the journey at their own risk.”

“Are the portals that dangerous?” I asked in surprise.

The mare chuckled, “Not the portals, silly. The other realms. They’re full of dangerous creatures like…” She paused.

“Like thestrals?” I finished for her.

“Exactly!” the mare nodded, passing me the tickets. “Now don’t miss the portal time or we’ll not be able to re-schedule until next week, okay?”

“Got it.” I levitated the tickets from the counter and slipped them into my breast pocket. “And thank you, you’ve been very helpful.”

“You’re most welcome,” the mare smiled broadly. “Try not to get yourself eaten will you?”

“I’ll do my best,” I smiled.

I bobbed my head in thanks and left, quietly seething to myself. What an experience! I knew ponies and thestrals were far from what you might call friendly with one another, but for goodness sake, eaten? Considering what she’d said earlier I wasn’t convinced she’d been joking either. I cast my mind back to when I’d first met Shadow. I hadn’t been frightened of her in the slightest despite her appearance, and yet ponies… were still ponies. Life in the watch had doubtless hardened me to the kind of sights that would have had many running for the hills at a full gallop, but I could still understand how the sight of a thestral could cause alarm. They were thin, painfully thin, and their dragon-like wings and fiery eyes were bound to create consternation upon encountering one for the first time. Even so it didn’t make the prejudice any easier to stomach, and worse was that here I was taking one of them back to her own people. But what else was I to do? I knew nothing about thestral foals, and Meadow wouldn’t accept her, that was for damned certain. We already had a foal of our own and managing a child that could blow your head off with nothing more than a careless belch was something we couldn’t deal with. Not least because our marriage was hardly doing well right then without throwing yet another spanner in the works. Still, part of me felt a horrible pang of guilt at giving Shade up to what was effectively adoption. I groaned, feeling the terrible weight of the tickets in my pocket. On my back the little thestral stirred, yawned, and went back to sleep. I would have to find some food for her for the trip, and there was just the place along the street. A brass plaque beside the door announced:

Gambol, Frisk and Millet

Purveyors of Griffin Foods and Supplements

The door bell tinkled overhead as I entered the small shop. It was dark inside, and smelled strongly of spices and other exotic tools of the griffin’s trade. Little was on display, but that was typical of the griffin traders I’d visited in my professional capacity over the years. These discreet shops were a fairly common feature in Equestrian society despite belonging to a carnivorous race. Their ‘foods’ were hunted, collected, and then shipped to wherever there was a market. Some had even branched out into selling foodstuffs for equines, but that been a short lived experience. Ponies have keen noses, and griffins had that reputation for being volatile too, which kept the more ‘sensitive’ amongst us away. I have to say though, some of the things on sale here smelled enticing. Very enticing indeed.

“Ah, a customer!” I looked up as the bead curtain clicked and clacked back and forth around the avian being approaching the counter. “A pony!” he announced in his heavy accent. “We don’t get many Equestrian visitors here.” The fellow wiped his claws on his apron and positioned himself behind the cash register as though protecting the thing from my prying eyes. “How may I help you, good sir?”

“I’d like to buy some meat, please.” I began fishing about for my wallet.

“You have, perhaps, griffin friends coming over for a meal?” The griffin reached under the counter as he spoke, adjusting the red fez on his head to avoid it falling off. “I have some excellent recipe cards that you may like to purchase. For a sensible price of course. A mere trifle.”

“No recipe’s today, thanks” I replied politely, “just a few pieces of meat that are suitable for a… um… a small foal.”

“Foal?” The griffin leaned towards me and then, just as I expected, his avian eyes moved upwards to the bundle of joy perched on my back. “This foal?”

I sighed, “Yes. This foal.”

“She is not a pony?”

“No, she’s not a pony.” I decided honesty was the best policy now that the cat, or rather the thestral, was out of the bag. “She’s a-”

“-Thestral. Yes.” The griffin nodded knowingly. “We had a thestral here recently to buy our wares.”

Glimmer. It had to be.

“Can you remember what she bought?” I asked. “I’m not an expert on thestrals I’m afraid.”

“Who is?” the shop keeper shrugged. His thick accent was a little hard to get past, particularly how he rolled his ‘r’s, but I could manage. Back in more ignorant times I’d always assumed it was the beak that made the half-eagle half-lion things pronounce their words oddly. After meeting Grimble however, my attitude, along with my understanding of this peculiar race, had changed completely. “I go look for something suitable,” the griffin continued. “Perhaps your foal can decide for herself, yes?” I wasn’t so sure, but it was worth a try. Duly the griffin produced a tray of different samples which Shade sniffed, eating some, leaving others. “Fascinating creatures are they not?” the shopkeeper said putting a package together for me. “We don’t see them much now, and many of my people believed them to be extinct in the living world.”

“The Wither World is their home,” I replied. I picked Shadow up and placed her, full tummy and all, back on the saddle where she curled up, mercifully without any shop destroying burps.

“A shame it was,” the griffin lamented with a sad smile. “The original people of the land, banished to a world of eternal darkness - punished by the gods for being true to their nature. In many ways they are our ancestors, doomed to watch the last of their kind fade and die until they are no more.”

I looked up at the fellow curiously. Guiltily I had to admit that even though I had spent time with them, and even taken Shadow as my mate, I knew next to nothing about their race. “You know a lot more about them than I do,” I admitted. “Are these legends, or based on historical fact?”

“A little of both,” the shopkeeper replied in his heavy drawl, “a little of both. Our races were closely intertwined during the age of the moon goddess, and our wise ones shared many stories with those of the thestral seers. They say the gods created the thestrals as the forerunners, the ‘elder race’ of Equestria. But their warlike nature and lust for battle greatly concerned the gods who desired to introduce more races for the earth, seas and sky. They did not want to see their creations destroyed, and so the god of all was urged by his wife the goddess to wipe the thestrals from the face of the land. The god of all loved his wife, but loved too the thestrals whom he had created with his own hooves from the clay of the earth and baked in the light of heaven and the fires of hell. He did not want to take away the precious spark of life that his children possessed, and so the god of all made a new home for his children where they could live their lives as they wished and cause no harm to those who came after.”

“The Wither World,” I breathed. “The gods created the Wither World for the thestrals.”

“A place no sane pony nor griffin would wish to go.” The shopkeeper took my payment and paused, cocking his head on one side. “Nothing for you today, sir?”

“Me?” I chuckled. “Ponies are herbivores, you know.”

The griffin’s eyes never left mine. “But not the grey ghosts,” he said politely. “Those of the tribe are some of my best customers. Sadly, they too dwindle, but there are still a few who enjoy my wares.”

“I think you may have me confused with somepony else,” I replied levelly. “I’m-”

Suddenly the griffin leaned forward, his sharply hooked beak dangerously close to my muzzle. “I know who you are… my lord.”

Time froze. My eyes locked with the wide glistening avian eyes of the shopkeeper as the blood in my veins chilled and the fur on my back bristled at the fellows words. He didn’t look like anypony, or griffin, that I knew, but then so many had died fighting for me since I had become the lord of the four winds, I could have been mistaken. The gravity of it all never left me, sitting there on the side lines, threatening to drag my heart down into the darkness of doubt and despair should I ever falter.

“Who are you?” I asked. “Tell me.”

The griffin laughed low in his throat. It was a sound that was half cackle and half avian squawk. It was certainly not the kind of sound to put a heart at ease. “I am Sea Scour,” he said proudly. “I am the father of Prides Pilot, a hippogryph who served you. As I myself served you.” He suddenly let out a booming laugh. “And now I serve you once more as my customer!”

Prides Pilot? I’m sure I would have remembered such an odd name, not to mention Sea Scour. I was lost, and the griffin knew it too. “I’m sorry, Sea Scour,” I said solemnly. “I didn’t spend as much time getting to know the people of the tribe as well as I should. There… just never seemed to be the time.”

“And neither was there!” The griffin reached over, and to my surprise clapped me on the shoulder. “My son and I fell in battle to the black ones fighting for what we believed, as true warriors should,” he explained animatedly. “We fought hard, and we fought well. I personally sent six of the black demons to the keeper’s pit while Pilot brought down five before we were hit from behind by their cursed magic. My son was slain at my side, and together we arrived in the griffin realm. Our ancestors paraded us through the village full of pride in the descendants and told great stories of the glory of our deeds.” He smiled, his eyes lighting up as he told his tale. “But the griffin realm is not for us. There is too much bickering for me, and the eyries are awash with tall tales from those who try to pretend they were warriors when they were really only farmers or nursemaids. We have proven ourselves and have nothing to prove to anyone any more. And so, we set up our little shop here, where we could work in peace.”

I was lost for words. This fellow, and his own son, had died fighting the changelings. Fighting for the tribe. Fighting for me. “It was during the fighting in the forest, wasn’t it,” I said woodenly. And then a memory came to me of a half eagle, half pony creature standing before me with a bloodied bandage around his foreleg. He’d been tired, worn out from his exertions in the forest, and yet still managed to report in to me about enemy numbers and location. If it hadn’t been for him, and others of the tribe like him, I don’t know if I ever would have got Lumin back. But the price... “Your son, did he have a scar on his left hind leg and bandages before he set out?”

“Ah, so you saw him then.” The griffin closed his eyes as a far away expression crossed his face. “I wasn’t sure, but he said that he had spoke to you.” He chuckled, “I should never have doubted him, but we griffins do so like our stories.”

“He was brave,” I said honestly. “Of that you can be certain.” I took a deep breath, trying to clear my mind of the memories that surged forth, memories I had all but forgotten since I had arrived in the herd. Even so it was still hard to think of such dark times now, and even harder to accept that there were lives lost helping me recover Lumin. At the time all I had been focussed on was my son. And in doing so, Sea Scour had lost his own. “I’m sorry,” I said hollowly. “I didn’t know he’d died. Nor you. For what it’s worth, thank you. If it wasn’t for you and your son...”

“Pah!” Sea Scour tossed his head and waved off my apology as though it were nothing more than a pesky fly buzzing around his wares. “You gave my son and I a chance to fight for our tribe. It was they who took me in as an orphan and where I met my wife. I lost her when Pilot was very young, but now, we are all one family again.” He leaned towards me, “You have many friends here, my lord. Many friends indeed.”

“I keep hearing that,” I growled rolling my eyes, “but I’m not exactly falling over them right now, am I?” Sea Scour’s expression was unreadable and I immediately regretted my outburst. I held up a hoof apologetically, “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound melancholy, but if I don’t know who they are then there’s not really much they can do to help me when I need them is there?”

“Or perhaps there is a reason why they do not reveal themselves to you?” The griffin began rummaging under the counter and re-emerged a few moments later with a cloth covered tray. “We do not always see the world as it truly is,” he said cryptically. “Only the gods know the truth of things, and they seldom intervene in the lives of their creations.” I had questions, so many questions, but right then my nose was twitching with the spicy aroma emanating from underneath the cloth. Sea Scour saw my expression which only made his customary grin even wider. “That which is hidden, that which is… ‘forbidden’, can often be what we have truly sought our whole lives.” He whisked the cloth away in a single practised fluid motion revealing rows of small cylindrical items that were wrapped in what looked like haybacon strips.

“What are those?” I breathed.

“Ah, why not try one and see?” The shopkeeper’s smile never left his face, but his eyes watched me with the keen interest of a predator. “Taste...”

The smell was alluring, simultaneously both spicy and deliciously exotic, and was drawing me in steadily, inch by fascinating inch. Carefully I floated one up in my magic and put it whole into my mouth. “Oh…!” I felt a rush of warmth as the taste of spices I had no words for and hitherto unknown seasonings, crispiness, and mouthwatering aromats, washed over my senses in an explosion of flavour that had me all but groaning in ecstasy.

“My wendigo friends ordered a batch, but I thought I would make some more in case my more… ‘discerning’ customers wished to try them for themselves.” Sea Scour nodded to himself, “Are they not delectable?”

“They are...” I muttered. I could still feel the tingle in my mouth long after I’d swallowed. I’d tasted something like this before, something from the… the banquet with the Yellow Sands? “Oh, no...” My heart sank as the realisation hit me. “They’re meat, aren’t they?”

Sea Scour nodded, “A blend of cragadile, quarray eel, edifice flower, and my own secret blend of herbs and spices. The whole is then wrapped in winter sweet honey glazed bacon which is just the right amount of crisp to give it a new taste and texture dimension.”

I was eating meat. I couldn’t believe it! It wasn’t the first time, sure, but… I wasn’t really a wendigo any more, was I. And yet the wendigo in the herd had bought from this fellow and they were alright, weren’t they? Oh goddesses, if Meadow found me eating this I’d be strung up! But… but it was so good! I could feel a warmth spreading through me, heating up my muscles with a tingling vibrancy I hadn’t felt in ages, and yet was something I would, and could never, forget.

“There’s spirit berries in this too. Am I right?”

“Now that would be telling!” Sea Scour laughed, “But since it’s you, my lord; yes, there are dried spirit berries in the mix of spices. Not much, but the wendigo like it so I include it just for them.”

“Just for them?” I asked.

“They’re poisonous to normal ponies,” Sea Scour said in a matter-of-fact manner. “You did not know this?”

“I knew they were dangerous in excess,” I replied, still revelling in the sensations fizzing through my body.

“As are most things,” Sea Scour admitted. “Would you like some for your journey?”

“I…” I closed my eyes, listening to that little voice inside me that was screaming ‘yes!’ and made my decision. “Yes. Please.”

“Very good, sir.” The griffin transferred a dozen into a package which would keep them safe for travelling in my panniers. “I am sure you are already aware, however it would be remiss of me not to remind you to keep these away from your thestral.” He smiled and chuckled quietly. “Who knows what she may turn into after midnight?”

“A bit late for that,” I replied with a smile. “She’s already trashed the house and scared a mare half to death after just looking at her.”

“Ah, ponies. Such a fragile race,” Sea Scour shrugged. “No offence.”

“It’s true for many I’m afraid,” I said honestly. “Comes of being descended from prey animals I suppose.”

Sea Scour lifted a claw, pointing at me. “But not you I suspect.” He nodded slowly. “No, not you.” Suddenly his eyes went wide, “Ah! I nearly forgot. Please, wait a moment. I have it here somewhere.”

The sharp clattering of pottery and the sound of heavy items being dragged over wooden floorboards emanated from the back of the shop as the griffin searched for whatever it was he was looking for. Meanwhile I took the opportunity to further inspect the interior of this peculiar place. Despite the dimly lit interior and heady smell in the air, the shop was, upon closer inspection, much like any other equestrian delicatessen I had been in over the years. Numerous shelves contained tins and jars whose contents I could only guess at, whilst the glass and wood counters that ran along two sides of the shop floor held trays of exotic looking pastries, cakes, and all manner of delicious looking treats. If you could ignore the fact that much of the food here was meat related, it was the decidedly ‘avian’ trinkets here and there that marked out the owners as griffins. Strings of beads and feathers, intertwined with curios crafted in gold and silver, hung in corners. Paintings of wide open vistas and birds in flight hung on three of the walls. But it was the writing that truly gave it away for me. The griffins had a very particular style of writing that was uniquely angular, with short sharp strokes which carried a sense of aggression about it that suited the hybrid race down to a tee. Come to think of it, how in Equestria did an eagle mate with a lion? Now a griffin and a pony I could understand, they were roughly similar in overall physical dimensions, but how did the griffin come to be in the first place? I was beginning to wonder if it was one of ‘those’ kinds of questions that were best left unasked, rather like the whole ‘cutie mark’ connundrum. I continued my slow walk around the shop, simply enjoying the calm and the fragrant air when the bead curtain rattled once more.

“Here. I knew I had it somewhere.” Sea Scour placed a cloth wrapped parcel on the counter top. “Come see, my lord.”

I walked over and peered at the red cloth wrapped object as the griffin slowly began to undo the string holding it in place. Gradually, piece by piece, the cloth fell away to reveal… a box. It didn’t look particularly exciting, just a small square wooden box around five inches square engraved with symbols that meant absolutely nothing to me. It was made of what looked like black hardwood, inlaid with gold or brass - I wasn’t sure which.

“What is it?” I asked politely. “A puzzle box?”

Sea Scour’s eye’s were wide, his gaze fixed upon the curious box. “It has been passed down in my family for generations.” The griffin’s heavily accented voice carried a gravity in those words. A gravity that I failed to understand, yet could still tell that this thing, whatever it was, meant a great deal to him. “I was told that one day the lord of the wendigo would come, dressed as a lowly traveller, and when he did we were to give him the box - in life or in death. My father passed this down to me before he died, and I kept it with me when I was adopted.” The griffin smiled sadly at the mention of his father. He closed his eyes and nodded to himself, “I was fortunate indeed to be able to have it smuggled into the afterlife, hoping that one day I would meet the lord of the wendigo and return the box.” He looked up. “And so, you are here.”

I didn’t like the sound of that at all! Somepony, or some thing, knew that one day I would be dressed as a traveller in the eternal herd and just stroll into this shop so I would be given this… this weird box? No. Oh, no, no, no! This didn’t bode well at all! If I had any sense I’d have left the damned thing there and put as much distance between it and me as I could. I would have liked to have said that the box radiated menace, or magic, or at least something ‘portentous’, but for all my probing with my own magic it felt about as interesting as what it looked like: a carved lump of wood. It was the sort of object d’art some old dear would have loved to have had on the end of her mantle piece or book shelf. Personally I hated clutter, and had more than enough tat already without adding to it. And then I wondered: why? I frowned at the thing, scratching my muzzle in puzzlement.

“Well, yes I’m here,” I said, staring at the thing, “but what is it? What does it do?”

There was a long pause before the griffin finally pulled his distant gaze from the box and looked deep into my eyes. His voice was low, serious, and sent a chill like ice down my spine. “I have not the faintest idea.”

I closed my eyes and stifled the groan that was currently trying desperately to escape my lips. “Didn’t anypony tell you what it was for, or what I was supposed to do with it?”

“I was told,” Sea Scour said, “that the lord of the wendigo would know what to do with it when the time was right.”

“Yeah...” I looked at the square thing and reached out, tentatively touching it with a hoof. “About that… It, um, doesn’t look like it does anything.”

Sure enough the box sat there, doing, unsurprisingly, absolutely nothing. It was simply an interestingly engraved cube. No hinges, no keyhole, just a solid square thing. I’d half expected my memories to react to seeing it and warn me or… something. Part of me wanted to leave the thing there and just forget about it, but how could I with the kind of back story Sea Scour had given me? His family had kept this for generations apparently, and I could hardly repay their dedication with scepticism and ingratitude. If I had the chance I could always find Maroc and ask him about it, or that blasted wizard I suppose. Not that I wanted to speak to either of the pretentious arseholes again, but at least it was an option.

“I wish I could be of more help,” Sea Scour said politely. “We were only ever told to pass it to the lord of the wendigo. And now, here you are.

“In which case, I thank you and your family, Sea Scour.” I took the box and dropped it into my pannier, making sure the thing was well away from the food in case there was something in the thing that could leach out. Who knew where it had been all these years? “Well, I suppose I had best be on my way now. Please give my regards to your family and I’ll make sure to call in again in the future to say hello.”

The griffin bobbed his head, “You would be most welcome, my lord. May the winds of the gods bear you to sunbathed lands.”

I smiled, reaching for the door, “Farewell my friend.”

Compared to the warm headiness of the interior, stepping outside the shop and into the open air was like being hit in the face with a bucket of ice water. I felt surprisingly good considering I’d had no sleep last night. In actual fact I felt delightfully refreshed, and I quickened my pace with a spring in my step. The birds sang in the trees and there was a light breeze carrying with it the gentle scent of flowers. I’d noticed earlier how it was quiet today for once, despite being just after midday. Haven was usually bustling with ponies and it was a pleasure to be able to move without having to dodge parcel carrying equines not looking where they were going or others standing about chattering about the weather - a fairly pointless exercise considering it was always the same!

I heard a dull chime. A quick check of the tall clock tower in the market place showed it to be bang on half past one. So long as I didn’t dally I would be able to reach the portal in good time and be on my way to take the little foal home. Come to think of it, it was just as well I hadn’t stopped to chat longer with the shopkeeper than I already had or I could have been in real trouble. And what a strange fellow he was! When I had time I would have to call back round and we could talk more about his time with the tribe before I arrived. I’d like to meet Prides Pilot too, and thank him for what he’d done to help save my son’s life. I think I’d quite enjoy wiling the day away with two former members of the tribe. And why not? The herd was full of old veterans talking about ‘the old days’, so I’d be certainly in good company. Speaking of good company, Shade was snoozing happily on my back which suited me just fine. The lower the profile she and I remained, the happier I would be. I moved quickly through the streets, stopping to buy a couple of juice bottles which came with free copy of the morning newspaper. It probably wasn’t a good idea to give the little one too much fluid at the moment considering what was going to happen when I eventually had to take her to the loo, but I could cross that bridge when I came to it. I suppose I could take her into the stallions bathroom, but I didn’t want her to be-

“Eep!”

I stopped and turned to look at the small creature on my back. Had I been thinking out loud again? Shade stared at me intently, her tiny red eyes burning brightly with her attempts to impress meaning upon the big dummy she was sitting atop. Unfortunately whatever message it was she was trying to convey, it simply wasn’t sinking in. That certainly didn’t stop her from trying though.

“EEE-eep! Ack!”

“Alright, calm down!” I said lifting a hoof to her and glancing around in case anypony was looking. “For the goddess’s sake, my ears…!”

“Eep!”

Suddenly Shade stood up and began dancing this way and that in her saddle basket, upsetting the blanket and revealing the anxious thestral beneath. Hurriedly I used my magic to flick the blanket back over her with the result that Shade now began squeaking and clicking all the more. What the hell was wrong with her? The last time I’d seen anypony do that funny little dance was… Sparrow. Oh no. Oh, what bloody great timing! I looked around in desperation. Nearby was the Grand Hackamore Hotel, known locally simply as The Hack. And where there was a hotel, there would be toilets.

“Hang on, Shade,” I said as we changed course. “Just… keep it in, okay?”

“Ack!”

I’m sure that meant something in their language, but I was far from being able to translate thestral to equestrian, let alone understand a child. Besides, the magical translation device Star Beard had given me was long gone. I hadn’t given it much thought though to be honest, many thestrals, the older ones in particularly, could usually speak equestrian - if you could call having words mentally battered into the centre of your brain ‘speaking’ that is. A couple of them had actually learned to speak normally though, albeit they were definitely in the minority. Personally I suspected telepathic communication had developed amongst their race because of their teeth. Talking with a mouthful of razor sharp pointy choppers was likely to end very badly for one’s tongue.

Pushing my way through the revolving door I quickly found the main desk. Fortunately the receptionist in the hotel was more than happy for me to take Shade into the bathroom, and didn’t question the blanket over her either. The last thing I needed was a cooing ‘oh isn’t she cute!’ followed by a scream and a flash of lightning. I just hoped Shade was fine with using a toilet seat.

And as I should have expected - she wasn’t.

Shade shrieked in alarm as I tried to position her on the seat, thrashing her legs around and catching me a right good kick to the chest making me gasp in pain. She had her eyes shut tight and was making matters a damned sight worse by shouting out in that weird clicking, hissing language of hers that was bound to bring everypony running, wondering what in the world was going on.

“Will you stop struggling, I’m trying to help!” I muttered, receiving another kick for my trouble. “Just relax and do your thing. Relax. Please! Ow!” A wing whacked me right in the eye and I nearly dropped her.

“Perhaps sir would find this of some use?”

I glanced down at the red foreleg, the oval disk held in the deep purple glow of magic, and up to the familiar face of… “Jelly Bean?”

“Good day to you, sir,” the red stallion replied with a polite bow. “It would appear we have been fated to meet once again.”

And with a thestral foal no less. I felt my heart sink and tried to brush it off as of no importance. “My niece,” I said calmly, “We were just on our way home to her mum when she needed the loo. Unfortunately thestral toilet training is not my thing, and she’s a bit big for a potty.”

“But not for this I’ll wager, sir.” Jelly Bean motioned to me to lift Shade up and he slipped the seat underneath her. “It’s padded. I keep them by the radiator pipes so they’re nice and warm for the little ones,” he explained. “The hide on thestrals, especially the young, can be quite sensitive to temperature variation. Also she would be quite likely to fall into the bowl which is probably why she was flapping her wings.”

“Don’t I know it!” I backed out of the way and let Jelly Bean take over. The fellow was quite obviously better at dealing with this sort of situation than me, and I used the opportunity to wet a towel to place over my sore eye. “Do you know much about them? Thestrals, I mean.”

“You could say that, sir.” Jelly Bean smiled at Shade who was now thankfully relaxed and doing what came naturally. Better still, it didn’t come with any ‘electrical’ accompaniment either. The barber chattered something which made Shade giggle.

“You can speak thestral?” I asked.

Jelly Bean smiled, “She cannot speak just yet, sir. She must be taught by her people, as all thestrals. At her age a little understanding and patience is all that is required.”

I felt a touch insulted by that remark, but held my peace. Jelly Bean clearly knew how to handle thestrals though, and watching him with Shade was nothing short of incredible. Like a well versed father, he soon had her up on a towel by the sink, washed and clean. She positively glowed and showed her own particular brand of appreciation by burping and nuzzling into the red stallion with a low purring chirrup.

“You need to wind her regularly, especially after food,” he cautioned. “If she fills up with too much gas her body will expel it in its own unique manner.” He raised an eyebrow, “You are aware of this, are you not, sir?”

“I… am. Yes.” I paused, my mind digesting what he’d said. “How did you know?”

“The smell of ozone around her,” Jelly Bean said in his matter-of-fact manner. “Thestral females emit a form of magical lightning. As they grow they learn to control it and will unleash it in battle or during courtship rituals. Males on the other hoof project flame rather than lightning. The emission of either is considered to be uncouth in company, although in combat are accepted as part of the thestrals natural defence.”

That much I knew from simply spending time with them, however I don’t recall Shadow ever unleashing lightning during our... ‘courtship’. Subconsciously I reached up and checked my mane was still intact. The main thing for me now though was getting this little package off to the thestral realm and a decent upbringing before I set about sorting my own problems out.

“A trim before you go, sir?”

“I wish.” I smiled at Shade, gently placing her back in her basket. “No, I have to catch the two o’clock portal to the thestral realm and get her back home.”

“Indeed.” The barber’s far away gaze caught me a little off guard. “Although, I would venture to say she appears to be at home with you. If I may be so bold to offer, sir.”

“I don’t know about that,” I replied. “She took to you straight away. Personally speaking I haven’t had much success with foals over the years.”

Jelly Bean nodded. “All it takes is patience,” he said. “Remaining calm, showing firm direction yet understanding and gentleness in the right proportion is something that only comes with time. Watch her, see how she reacts to you, and you will come to see for yourself.”

“If I ever have any more foals I think I’ll be stopping by for more trims,” I quipped. “You give some damned good advice, J.B.”

Jelly Bean laughed, “I’m glad you think so, sir. Now, pardon me for saying so, but sir will need to be on his way if he is to catch his appointment?”

“Oh, bugger!” I turned for the door, pausing to thank Jelly Bean. “Thanks J.B.”

“You’re most welcome, sir.” He bobbed his head respectfully, “Good luck on the path.”

“And you.” I hurried out, checking the time in the lobby as I passed through and picked up speed once through the main doors. I’d have to get a move on if I was to get there in time.

My hooves clattered over the cobbles, echoing hollowly off the buildings. The sun was high in the sky now and I could almost hear the minute hand of the clock in the market clunking ever nearer to two o’clock. Damn it all, why had I stopped to chat to the griffin? And why hadn’t I made sure Shade had gone to the toilet before we’d left home?! Meadow would have normally taken care of these sorts of things and it was only now that she wasn’t with me that I was beginning to realise just how much I relied on her for all the little things I took for granted. Damn it all, had I always been such a leech? I’d done my bit sure, like fixing the house, working at the watch, and… and… and she’d held down a full time job as well as cooked, cleaned, brought up our foal… all on her own. Dear goddesses, had I taken her for granted without even realising it?

The travel bureau office was just ahead of us and I barrelled through the front door, narrowly avoiding knocking a couple out of the way. I made a hurried apology and reached the desk just as the clock hit two.

“I have two tickets!” I gasped. “Two for the thestral realm. For two o’clock.”

The tan coloured clerk casually looked up at the clock and nodded. He looked like the kind of youth that had been compelled to work weekends by his parents and had about as much enthusiasm for the job as you might expect. He took the tickets, stamped them, and passed them back. He shrugged, “It’s your funeral, dude.”

“Yeah, thanks for the advice. I’ll take it under advisement, Dude.”

I slipped the tickets back into my pocket and looked about at the very empty looking room. Other than myself, the clerk and Shade, there was nopony else there. Maybe it was the off season for tourism? There were the usual travel posters everywhere of course, and stands containing small brochures on holiday destinations, weekend trips and the like. Unfortunately there was a distinct lack of signage telling you were you actually needed to-

“Door on your right,” the desk clerk said casually without even looking up from his magazine.

I didn’t bother to reply. It wouldn’t have made any difference anyway, the lad looked like he was suffering from permanent teenage angst - a time in my life I wanted to forget all about. Acne and greasy mane’s were something I hadn’t enjoyed, and this guy looked like he was permanently stuck there. I shuddered at the thought and opened the door to another corridor that was brightly lit with large square windows and more of the equally bright posters. I ignored it all, opening the door at the far end and entering into a room that looked remarkably like the portal room at the barracks. And like the portal room, there stood a large stone archway thrumming with magical energy. My horn itched like crazy, but it was well worth it just to be on my way at long last.

“Hello?” I looked about me for somepony to help. “Anypony here?”

“Ah! Just a second.” A lab coat wearing bespectacled black and white patched unicorn stallion appeared from underneath a desk like a jack-in-the-box. A large round yellow badge announced, ‘Hi! My name is Funnel Cake. Happy to help!’. Happy to help or not, he was still munching a half finished biscuit, the rest of which was stuck to his coat. “Sorry about that,” he said, wiping the crumbs off his muzzle with his sleeve, “just finishing off my lunch!”

“Two o’clock appointment,” I said, holding up the tickets. “Two for the thestral realm, please.”

“Ah, yes. We got your booking through just this morning.” The stallion took the tickets and nodded to himself before passing them back. “You have your travel insurance in place I presume?”

“I need travel insurance?!” I asked in surprise.

The stallion shrugged, “Well, you don’t ‘have’ to have it. But considering where you’re going we can’t be held liable for any injury, loss of limb, etcetera, etcetera, if you don’t have travel insurance.”

Loss of limb?! I cleared my throat. “And how exactly do I get travel insurance?” I asked.

“You have to get it from the booking office,” the stallion replied casually. He looked up at the clock. “Bit late now though, I s’pose.”

He was right there! Why hadn’t that bloody mare told me?! “Look, can we please just get this over with?” I asked him, a little exasperated by the whole experience. “I need to get this child home.”

“Sure!” the chirpy stallion said animatedly. “Just a case of entering the co-ordinates and it’s hey presto! Magic time!” He reared, holding his hooves out for dramatic effect.

I rolled my eyes as the stallion dashed about tapping crystals and turning dials on a large brass panel inlaid with a myriad of ambiguous controls. I had to give it to him though, he certainly knew his stuff alright. All it took was a few moments and the portal began to form into the familiar glossy silver of a fully formed gateway. It was strange how such an unusual situation can become mundane when you experience it often enough, and this time was no exception. I still hated the lurching sensation that came with the portal journey, but at least I felt I was getting somewhere now. I took a step forward but paused as the lab coat wearing fellow began to address me.

“Do you have a map?” The stallion was rummaging under the desk again. “I have a guide here if you can hang on a tick.”

It was probably a good idea. I had absolutely no idea where Glimmer lived and was hoping that somepony, or rather some thestral, would know where she lived. I guessed that as she was from the tribe of the Beyond, there’d be some link there for me to find, but who could say for sure? Fortunately the peculiar unicorn stallion found what he was looking for, blew off the dust and trotted over to me with it floating in the glow of his magic.

“Here you go, knew I had one somewhere!” He passed me the brochure which I promptly pocketed. “Not many go there, what with the thestrals being so aggressive and all,” the stallion smiled broadly. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“So do I,” I muttered. “Anyway, how do I come back?”

“Oh that’s easy,” the stallion replied happily. “Just give your tickets to the guards on the portal and they’ll get you home toot sweet.”

“Guards?” I lifted a hoof, stalling the response. “Tell you what, forget it. I like surprises.”

“I hope so!” The stallion waved a hoof at the portal, “All that remains is for me to wish you bon voyage!”

“Yeah...” I took a breath and stared into my reflection in the silver pool. “See you.”

Goddess buck me, I hate portal jumps! The sensation is somewhere between having your insides pulled out and shoved back in, and being kicked in the head by an ursan. Of course, some ponies weren’t bothered by it all, but Fairlight, poor old sod that he is, had the worst possible reaction. I suppose I’d become more adept at fighting the after effects to a degree and they did fade quite quickly now. Unfortunately the necessity of a bucket was still a possibility, but at least I was still on all fours as opposed to barfing up my breakfast. For some reason the portal in the barracks didn’t effect me as much, but this one… Luna’s ears…!

“Ack! Urp, ack!”

“Yup, looks like you’re home, love.” I gave the little one a quick fuss before popping her back in her basket. She was probably capable of walking at least some distance on her own, but since I didn’t have a clue where I was yet the last thing I wanted was her disappearing into a crowd never to be seen again. And speaking of crowds, there was a distinct lack of them here. In fact, there was a distinct lack of anything at all! I looked about at my surroundings. There was the portal, inactive now of course, a small building of typical equestrian architecture no doubt containing the controls for said portal, and an expanse of darkness. It was like the Wither World. Again.

Black sand stretched off into the distance: flat, undisturbed, and silent. The sky was a blueish purple so deep as to be almost as black as the land and offering barely any difference between the two. In the distance were hills and mountains sitting there like black silhouettes, with some forested in the white crystalline trees I recognised from my visit to the Beyond. Off to my left was a lake, possibly even a sea so far as I could tell. The ink black waves lapped at the edge of the shoreline as quietly as a breath upon your ear. There were no signs, no staff ‘Happy to help’, or anything even to tell you where you were. In fact the only signs of life were the two hulking lumps of meat that appeared out of the office building to stare at me like I was a two headed mule.

“You there!” one of them called to me, his black painted crystalline armour clattering as he walked. The crossbow strapped to his back along with a heavy battle axe marked him out to be a thestral without the need to point out the glowing red eyes and bony physical build. “Stop where you are.”

The other gorilla with him was a pony, a member of the royal guard too by looks of his uniform. Thank the gods I didn’t recognise him, and by the look of total disinterest on his face, he didn’t recognise me either.

“What is the purpose of your visit?” the thestral asked.

“Personal,” I replied. “I’ve come to see a family friend.”

The warrior’s words slammed into my brain in their customary fashion. “What is the name of this ‘friend’?”

“Glimmer, of the tribe of the Beyond,” I said confidently.

“Yeah...” The royal guardstallion scratched his chin in thought. “Dat’s da broad ‘oo came fru ‘ere few weeks back, innit?”

Ah, customer service at its finest!

“Humph!” The thestral snorted a whuff of smoke from his nostrils. “It is not safe here for the weak, Equestrian. Consider this your one and only warning. We will not come to your aid if you get yourself into trouble.”

“Perish the thought,” I replied sweetly. The thestral glared at me as I lifted my head and matched him gaze for gaze. “I’m not here for sight seeing, I’m here to see my family friend. I would be grateful if you could give me some directions. Do you happen to know where the thestrals from the tribe of the Beyond live?”

The warrior’s eyes flared menacingly, leading the royal guardstallion to quickly intervene. “Da Beyond lot live over de ‘ill past da big lake an’ da bridge o’bones.”

I took out my map and flicked it open.

“Yeah, dat’s it, dare.” The fellow pointed to several prominent features on the map, including the enigmatically named ‘Bridge of bones’, or ‘Bridge o’bones’ as he called it. Dear goddesses, where did they find this guy?! Hmm, come to think of it, I doubt they’d find ponies falling over themselves to work here, so this guy fit the bill. Barely.

“You’ll do for me squire,” I said with a broad smile. “Thanks for the help boys.”

The thestral huffed and turned away, dismissing me without another word. As for the royal guar,d he leaned towards me. “You be careful out dare, buddy. Not a place for us pones, get me?”

“Yeah, I get it,” I replied. “Thanks for the heads up.”

The stallion nodded to me and walked off after his colleague leaving me to do my best to follow the map’s directions. In truth I was surprised there were actually roads here at all, some of which, the main thoroughfares, were long white lines of stone that cut through the land like vivid scars. The Wither World had been all but devoid of them except in what passed for urban areas, although when you had wings I suppose they were pretty redundant for the most part. It was certainly a welcome change from the shades of black I commonly associated with that darkest of worlds, and I felt a lot more comfortable keeping to the hard surface rather than slogging through miles of featureless sand. Here and there clumps of the crystal trees added an alienesque illumination to the endless vista of emptiness, reminding me that life, however strange it may be, did exist here. In fact it was hard to remind myself that this wasn’t the Wither World at all, but rather the thestrals afterlife. This was, in essence, their own version of the eternal herd. I don’t even know what I had expected to be honest. It wasn’t the sort of thing I’d given much thought to, although Meadow and I had planned on visiting Glimmer at some point. Now that I looked at it and all the melodramatic warnings I’d received, I doubt that was ever going to happen now. Still, Glimmer managed to come and see us from time to time so things couldn’t be that bad here, right? Yeah, right! I was starting to regret only having a kitchen knife stashed in my pannier for protection.

Giving myself a shake, I received a chirrup from the saddle basket. Shade had woken up and was sat upright, staring out at the landscape around us. I half expected her to shriek and jump out, running around in exuberance at the prospect of this new home, but instead she kept remarkably silent. That alone sent a chill of doubt into my heart. I couldn’t communicate with her, and as a result I had just assumed she’d be overjoyed to be here. There was something horribly wrong with that line of thinking, but what else could I do? There was no choice for her, for either of us at this point. Thestrals needed thestrals and that was that. Simple. I closed my eyes, cleared my mind, and continued our journey.

I had been walking for about an hour by my reckoning when we finally stopped to take a break. The landscape had barely changed at all in the time we’d been travelling, and the moon hanging in the sky had been as unchanging as the rest of land ensuring that the only way to tell the time was by my pocket watch. I strongly suspected that it was permanent night here below the sigil of the goddess, which probably suited the nature of the thestrals perfectly. Regardless, the excitement and adventure of the last twenty four hours was beginning to catch up with me, not to mention the fact that I’d had no sleep at all the previous night. It wasn’t every day I had to contend with assassins, but it was highly unlikely whoever it was would be able to find me here, which was something of a relief. They probably didn’t have travel insurance either, I thought to myself sarcastically. I suppose there was always the chance that since Shade had frightened them off they could have given up, but I couldn’t take that risk, especially not with Meadow and Sparrow to consider. I yawned expansively; there was a clump of trees nearby which promised at least somewhere for Shade and I to lay our heads for half an hour. A short snooze would do me the world of good.

Taking off the saddle basket, cloak and panniers, was an absolute blessing. The weight off my back made me feel as light as a feather, and if there’d been any grass there I would have been inclined to have damned good roll too. Black sand wasn’t quite the same, but I could give it a try later. First things first though, it was time to get some food into both myself and the little one. I’d already hung up my gear on a convenient branch and I flipped open the retaining clasp to extract our lunch. The tree never even gave an inch. It was certainly a strange material, and difficult to appreciate that it was actually alive and growing just like a normal tree, only crystal. The bright surface caught the perpetual twilight of the world, reflecting every colour of the rainbow as you move around it. It was really quite beautiful in its own way, and it was pleasure to be able to look more closely at it now than I had in the Withers. And it wasn’t just trees either; there were bushes here, similar in general appearance to their larger neighbours. There was no smell of wood, no moisture, nor even the hint of earthiness that accompanied woodland as I knew it. Still, it served well enough as a place to relax, and I soon had a nice little picnic laid out for the two of us. Shade, not standing on ceremony, tucked right in with a loud chirrup of excitement. There was no magic, no hooves, no cutlery, only that long slim muzzle darting in and out, snatching up a lump of meat and gulping it down hurriedly. Perhaps I should have controlled the situation more and slowed her down, but the thought of getting between those flashing teeth and the thestral foal’s meal wasn’t worth thinking about; I valued my hide far more than that! Personally speaking, I was starving. I hadn’t had much to eat in days and that which I had eaten hadn’t always stayed down long enough to put much meat on the old bones. I decided to try the meat pastries that Sea Scour had sold me. Strange how you can feel guilty about such things, especially as there was only Shade and I there. Who was going to berate me? I took a breath, letting it out slowly and took a bite. The pastry crumbled in my mouth around the delicious morsel, melting into a blend of spicy flavours that had me groaning out loud. This was incredible! I closed my eyes, transported away on a sea of comestible pleasure the likes of which I hadn’t known in an age. Not that I’d ever admit that to Meadow of course. Warmth spread through me, relaxing out built up tension I hadn’t even realised had been there. And with that relaxation, the good food and drink, came a wave of drowsiness that picked me up as gently as a feather to take me away into the land of dreams.

I hadn’t been asleep long before a leathery something pushed into my muzzle. “Mmm… Shade… stop it,” I mumbled sleepily. I could hear a faint chirrup from the small creature and hoped, in vain it transpired, that she would just make herself comfortable and let me sleep. Instead, the push came harder this time, waking me up to a face full of teeth.

“Ack!”

Bloody kids! Irritably I clucked my tongue and tried to pull my senses together. I can’t have nodded off for more than a few minutes and I was being denied even that! Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, the slim black muzzle of Shade loomed in my vision, a pair of burning red eyes peering into mine. It was probably just as well I didn’t startle easily, at least not in these sorts of situations, or else living with Shadow would have had me a gibbering wreck by now. Mind you, Shadow didn’t tend to nudge me awake and shout ‘Ack!’ in my ear repeatedly.

“What?” I groused. “What is it, do you need to go to the...” It was just then that I heard it - a loud, hissing roar followed up with a loud scratching. I knew that sound, I’d heard it a lifetime ago in the warehouse beneath the statue. I recalled it all too well.

It was a manticore.

I reached back with my magic and felt for the kitchen knife, cursing silently under my breath for the stupidity of stopping for a nap in such an alien environment. An environment that I had already been warned about and hadn’t paid it any damned heed. Now that foolishness could cost me, and more importantly Shade, our lives. Thankfully the knife slipped free after snagging initially on something in my pannier. It was sharp and short, but lacked the heft needed to be able to damage a beast the size of this thing. And then there was the issue of my magic. I simply didn’t have the strength I once had, and using my forelegs and hooves had always been my go to choice for melee weapons. Something use for chopping carrots and onions wasn’t quite in the same category. I pulled Shade close. The beast was rubbing up against a convenient tree, its scorpion-like tail swaying this way and that, adding a pendulum motion to the manticore’s rubbing that made the whole damned copse vibrate. Manticores were used by a few ponies with more money than sense as guard animals back in Equestria. Dogs, it would seem, didn’t quite measure up to something that could potentially swallow you in a couple of gulps. No, having a monstrosity like this, armed with an array of teeth, claws, and a tail that would have been lethal enough on its own, was just the thing for keeping undesirables out of your valuables. How you managed to retrieve them yourself when you had one of these things wandering about rubbing itself on your hydrangeas was another matter.

The manticore continued to rub its ruddy coloured hide against the tree, purring like some monstrous house cat. I kept myself and Shade low, covered partly by the silvery bushes that I hoped and prayed would be enough to keep us from- oh, gods… The beast stopped and began to snuff the air. Each of those two great nostrils flared wide in the manticore’s muzzle, drawing in huge amounts of air as it tasted it. Checking. Locating. A deep rumble reverberated from the creature, its head turning, eyes narrowing, until with horrible certainty it looked our way. Golden eyes full of primal need and anger stared… but not at us... at my panniers. Oh hell, the meat! The damned thing could smell the meat inside! Well there was bugger all I could do about it now; we had to get out of there and pray the damned thing didn’t see us as a dessert course. Slowly, carefully, I lifted the now quiet and compliant Shade onto my back and slid backwards on my stomach away from the panniers. The hulking shape of the manticore was now only a few yards away, and drawing closer by the second. Damn it all, that interminable sniffing was all I could hear over the hammering of my heart. I’d only managed to take one of these things down last time because the bloody thing was on the other side of a door, and I also had something a little more potent than a glorified butter knife with me too.

Carefully, inch by inch, I moved back. With any luck the thing would eat the snacks, fill itself up, and simply fly away. Hopefully. I closed my eyes and winced as the thing reached up to pull the panniers from the branch. They caught, momentarily becoming snagged on part of the tree, but sheer raw power and determination won out and the fabric gave way with a soft tearing sound. For a moment my anger flared; they had been hoof made for me by Meadow. If they’d been a shop bought item I wouldn’t have been so bothered, but considering the situation there was bugger all I could do about it now. Damned thing, why didn’t it just hurry up and go? As if in answer, the manticore began clawing at the packaging and pulled several chunks of meat out as it began to feed. Piece after piece of Sea Scour’s carefully prepared goods disappeared into its cavernous maw. I tried to look away, but the sight of those enormous teeth was drawing my attention, and not in a good way either. Finally though, when I’d put enough distance between us and it, I turned, trying to increase the distance. Crawling on my stomach wasn’t easy, especially with a child on my back. The girth strap was dragging along the ground under me and catching on the undergrowth as I slid. Goddesses give me strength, this was torturous! I mentally willed Shade to keep quiet, and the little one, no doubt sensing the imminent danger, kept her head down and her mouth shut. I guess even thestrals knew when the odds were against them. I sure as hell did.

I looked around us at the terrain, such as it was. Off in the distance were more clumps of the crystalline trees, but between them were large open expanses of black sand. There was nowhere to take cover, and I knew with chilling certainty that any attempt to flee would more than likely end with Shade and I literally inside the belly of the beast. There were no wendigo powers to call on here, no crossbows, sword, axes, or the mist that could freeze enemies into blocks of ice. There was just me, a foal, and a decision to make. I could run while the thing was feeding, or hunker down and wait for it to finish eating, maybe even fall asleep, and then slip away. So far the latter seemed like the only option. I kept inching away, the sound of the manticore’s feeding still loud but mercifully farther away then-

Crack.

I felt my body freeze, my muscles locking up almost painfully. The girth strap, that damned thing beneath me that I hadn’t hung on the tree with the rest of my gear, had caught on something. I felt it too late. Far, far too late. I closed my eyes in the dread certainty of what was coming next. My heart sank as the inevitable blast of wind blew sand through the copse, showering Shade and I. A moment later the ground shook, and then with another blast of air and the sound of cracking branches, there was the expected heavy thump. I shook the sand from my eyes and opened them to a sight I hoped I would never see again. Golden eyes set in a face full of teeth and a distinct lack of anger management, glowered at me with animal curiosity. Far from filling itself up on the snacks, the beast had now set its sights on the two tasty four legged creatures before it now. A low rumble emanated from the manticore’s throat, its dragon-like wings flexing and settling by its side. But it was its tail that had me mesmerised. The thing swished from side to side, the stinger held high above an array of short black spikes. I knew about these beasts. Everypony knew. Few had ever had a chance to document them when they were alive. You didn’t get much of a chance if they were. Domesticated ones did exist, but they were such a danger to the owner only lunatics had them. Or those who had a death wish. Judging by the lion-esque maw dripping saliva, this one was far from being domesticated either. Somehow the knife held in the glow of my magic didn’t seem to make the grade…

I knew, deep down inside, that Fate had something up her sleeve for me right then. I could have written the bloody script myself. Everything, as always, happened in the blink of an eye. The manticore roared, showering us with reeking spittle and the half chewed remnants of what was supposed to have been our dinner. Now it was looking more likely that that was precisely what Shade and I were going to be. Huge clawed paws moved closer, the manticore’s lips peeling back to display the lethal battery of teeth. And then the crack of ear splitting black lightning happened. The manticore’s screaming roar was all that I needed to decide on my next course of action - to run. I’d always been warned about breaking into a full gallop without a warm up as it could cause cramps or even tear a muscle, but right then such concerns meant absolutely nothing. From a lying start I was at a full gallop across the sand in the blink of an eye, heading towards the nearest clump of trees. I could probably out run it, even with Shade clinging onto my back like some leathery barnacle, and once inside the treeline I’d be able to make some decent distance. Unfortunately for me however, the manticore had wings and used them remarkably well for such an unlikely monster. I didn’t turn to look, I didn’t hesitate, I just ran as fast as I could, my mane and tail streaming out behind me. Hooves don’t fail me now!

Something shot past my ear and thumped into the sand. Again, nearer this time. I managed to catch a glimpse of a black spike, slick and shiny as I raced by. Of course… It wasn’t enough that the damned things had teeth, claws, and a scorpion’s tail to kill you with. Oh, no. No, they had to have spines they could shoot at you too! Celestia bouncing buttocks, what the hell possessed the gods to put such monstrosities on the land? Or had they? Some stories suggested they’d been magically created by warring factions in the past as living weapons. If that was true, then only the sickest of minds would have been able to come up with a beast like this and then let the damnable creations loose. Fortunately for ponies they normally only lived up in the thickly forested highlands or around ancient ruins. I doubted it was because they were anti-social creatures. It was more likely that they could kill you in peace to chomp you down one bloodied chunk at a time.

I jinked to the left as another spike narrowly missed me, but moving left or right had the effect of slowing me down and that was something that I sure as hell didn’t want to be doing right now, and I think the manticore knew it too. They may look like slavering nightmares from the pits or Tartarus, but they were definitely intelligent; in a cunning and decidedly hungry way. I tried my best not to think of being of impaled, stung, or of rending teeth sinking into my flesh. There was simply no time, and only one course of action open to me anyway. Running full tilt the forest seemed to be running towards me and my legs dragging through treacle despite all my urging. My chest burned with my desperate need to increase my speed. I wasn’t just trying to save myself this time, I was trying to save the new life on my back too. Shade, just barely seconds into life and I had been expected to put her down as though she were an aberration with as much value as a bug to squashed by the proverbial newspaper. Now, in my attempts to bring her to her people, I had endangered her through my own idiocy. I hadn’t heeded the warnings, I hadn’t listened to those who quite clearly knew more about this land than I did. And now, it was all I could do to try to avoid watching Shade become lunch for this foul monster.

I broached the treeline. Branches lashed at my face, scything down my side, but I ignored it. I dodged first one tree, then another, heading as fast as I could into the heart of the crystalline wood. And then, as luck would have it… I fell. My hoof had caught a large exposed root. I’d tried to avoid it, I’d tried to jump, but even though it was a barely glancing blow it was just enough to tip me off balance and I felt myself nose diving into the unforgiving forest floor. Thank the gods I didn’t roll and land on Shade, but the situation was bad enough. Pain shot through my front leg, whether from a break or sprain I didn’t have time to check. The impact had snapped the girth strap too, tumbling Shade out like a basket of upset washing. She had rolled into a ball and probably due to her being so light, had taken a lot less impact damage than her erstwhile minder. She kept quiet and low, whereas I was covered in a showering of crystalline fragments as I slowly dragging myself to my hooves. I was winded, cut and bruised, but my adrenaline was mercifully blinding me to most of it. It had to; the manticore was stood not six feet away.

“You know, you’re really starting to piss me off,” I said breathily.

The manticore growled, shifting itself into a position to attack. I glanced around. The knife, my only slim chance of fighting back, had gone. All I was able to lay my hooves on now was a broken piece of crystalline branch lying on the ground nearby. My magic flared, encompassing the branch and bringing it to me. I didn’t stand a hope in hell. I knew that. But there was no chance of my giving up without a fight. I dropped into a fighting stance the way I had done a thousand times before, only this time my focus wasn’t of defending myself.

“Shade...” I said out loud, “Run. Run and don’t look back.”

I doubted she’d comprehend my words, but I hoped to the gods that she would understand the meaning held within them. She was small enough to be able to find a place to hide, to give her at least a chance at survival. Staying here with me, lightning or no lightning, would only lead to two deaths. Luna’s ears, what a way to go out. I shifted my stance, never taking my eyes off the manticore while the beast just stood there watching me as though it were the most natural thing in the world. What the hell was it waiting for? Whatever it was I had no intention of waiting for it to make the first move, and I edged forward.

“Come on, you mangy hearth rug, come and get some!” I saw its eyes flicker, its attention shifting from me to Shade who was scrambling away. “Don’t look at her, look at me!” I yelled. And swung.

The branch missed the manticore by a mile, but it had the desired effect of distracting it from the fleeing foal. And now it was locked onto me instead. With a roar the manticore’s paw lashed out with claws that could rip a pony open in one well aimed swipe. Quickly, I dodged to one side ignoring the flash of pain in my leg and my side. They were something I could deal with later. If there ever was a later, and right then it didn’t look very likely either. I thrust forward with the broken branch, hitting the manticore above the eye and eliciting a yelp of pain. I didn’t know if these things had weak spots or not, but if I could blind it, even temporarily, it would give me a chance to get the hell out of there. I withdrew a step, watching the beast advance as it manoeuvred its body to one side, tail whipping. I knew instinctively what was coming next. With a spin, the manticore flicked its tail at me with lethal precision. The branch barely blocked it in time, but it was the opening I needed. I made a feint attack, forcing the manticore to flinch, then stabbed the jagged end of the branch into its face. The beast’s screams echoed around the wood, bringing down loose branches, tinkling like icicles from high above. I backed away again, trying to put some form of cover between it and me, but the damn thing was as fast as Shade’s lightning. In a roaring furore, the manticore charged me, slamming me onto my back, biting, snapping, hissing in primal hatred at the creature that had wounded it. All that stood now between me and those teeth was the branch. My sides however were burning as if being branded and I knew with horrible certainty that if I couldn’t pull something out of the hat, these moments would be my last. The manticore knew it too. With a heave, it rammed its head into the branch, snapping it like so much dead wood. I swear I saw it grin too. But in that second, in that long moment, I saw something other than the manticore’s eyes glinting, and reached out with my magic to grab it like a drowning pony clinging to a liferaft.

“Screw you, you stinking rug!”

I couldn’t miss. The only mistake the manticore had made was pausing to play with its food, but today, Fairlight was well and truly off the menu. I don’t know whether the beast knew something was happening, but it opened its remaining eye and presented me with the ideal opportunity to ram the kitchen knife home. I yelled out in effort, shoving the blade in as hard and as deep as I could. Howls split the forest air. Screams of agony and raw hatred battered my ears as much as the raging creature that tried in vain to pull the knife free. For the manticore however, it was too late. For me, there was nothing more that I could do, other than to try to get out from under the flailing beast. Even in its death throws, the manticore was still quite capable of tearing me to pieces, and I pulled away with every last ounce of my strength. But nothing seemed to be working properly. My heart was hammering, my breath coming in deep, ragged gasps as I tried to drag myself free. The manticore struck out, again and again, landing blows upon me without end. I ignored them all. Everything I did now had one focus: escape. And then. with a final roar, the manticore reared up, howling at the sky. It was in that moment I was able to heave my hind legs free, losing much of my tail hair in the same instance... but I’d done it. I was free! Gods… I was free… I... My vision began to swim as I tried to stand, my foreleg adding its own staccato pitch to the symphony of pain hammering my senses. I couldn’t let it beat me. Not now. I had to get away and reach Shade, I had to make sure she was okay. Damn it all, my bloody eyes! Colours blended and parted, pooling into droplets of expanding shades of light. Everything I tried to focus on swam in nausea inducing formations. It was like being underwater, drowning in sensations that were so alien as to be terrifying. Shadows, figures, sounds - everything began to swirl around me, becoming distorted and indefinable. I’d heard about manticore venom back… sometime… I couldn’t remember. Damn it all, why couldn’t I remember?

Something pushed into me. Shade? It was a muzzle, black and leathery, but a lot bigger than I remembered. “Shade?”

Hissing, clicking and more of that damned weird noise…

“Lift your head.”

“My eyes...” I whispered. “I can’t see...”

“You have been poisoned by the manticore. Drink.”

The voice was clearly a thestral’s. Nopony else has that disturbing ability to materialise their words straight into the centre of your brain the way they do. Whoever this was though, male or female, friend or foe, was way beyond my ability to comprehend right at that moment as my body was far too busy screaming bloody murder. Damn it all, everything hurt like hell. At least the fever was diverting my attention from the pain, which was not exactly a glowing endorsement. Feeling sick and dry heaving, I felt my body being lifted and then little else. Tortured beyond endurance, I gradually drifted away into another world…

Chapter Nine - Briar

CHAPTER NINE

BRIAR

Click. Hiss. Clack. Growl. Sniff.

One of these days I’d have to ask somepony to teach me thestral. Unfortunately I wasn’t sure I had the teeth for it; those choppers made mine look about as sharp as a sea sponge. Still, most of them could speak equestrian anyway from what I’d been able to ascertain during my interactions with them, something I believe was a hang over from the war. Star Beard had been able to communicate with me normally without mentally flagellating my brain cells, but the others like Thorn still had that weird way of talking telepathically. All thoughts aside however, I had to work out where I was and what I was going to do next. Carefully I opened my eyes to a scene that immediately gave me chills. Although I was grateful for being able to focus without experiencing the drug-like visions I’d experienced back in the wood, I almost wished I was back there. I didn’t scare easily, but being surrounded by bones, lots and lots of bones, was not at all what I’d expected. Considering the ominous surroundings I was actually surprised to discover that I hadn’t been tied down.

My ears twitched at the sound of stone grating against stone. It was a familiar sound, and one that was usually the harbinger of good home made food. Well, normally it was. The black cloaked thestral using the mortar and pestle to grind her ingredients didn’t appear to be particularly inclined towards culinary concoctions. I watched her silently, taking in the room I was in. I was on a bed, quite a comfortable one too I might add, padded with some kind of straw-like material that must have been grown hereabouts and stuffed into a cloth cover to form a mattress. The pillow was a little firmer than I was used to, but all in all it was well made and did the job just nicely. I tried not to think too hard about the furs that had been furnished for blankets; it was something I’d encountered already in the Withers on my last trip there. The walls of the room were, surprisingly, not made of the crystalline tree’s as I’d half expected. Instead it was rock, carved into a dome shape with remarkably smooth walls and ceiling. It was probably granite, or some other kind of locally sourced natural material. Black, naturally. Several lamps hung from chains suspended from hooks on the walls and gave off a pleasant yellow light. The way they illuminated the racks of bleached bones was truly inspired. Welcome to my parlour said the spider to the fly...

“You are awake.”

That was remarkably observant! Instinctively I tried to drag myself into a sitting position and winced as a sharp pain shot up my leg.

“I advise you not to move,” the mare said, continuing to grind her ingredients. “Your leg is still healing.”

I leaned back in the bed, trying in vain to ignore my body’s innumerable aches and pains. Every movement, no matter how small, hurt like hell. Gods, I felt like I’d been put through a clothes mangle – then beaten with a sack of bricks for good measure. Looking down at the bandages and poultices that had been applied to my sorry carcase I looked half mummified. Apparently I had been injured a lot more than I’d originally thought, and if it hadn’t have been for the ministrations of the mystery mare I may have ended up on a one way trip to reincarnation-ville. I closed my eyes and took a hesitant breath. My sides ached, but thank the gods I could breath relatively easily.

“Thank you,” I said with a genuine sigh of relief. “May I ask where I am?”

“You are in my home, equestrian.” The mare’s orange eye’s blazed the same colour as the fire pit in the centre of the room while the grinding continued. “And now you can answer my question.” She paused to look me in the eye. “Why are you here?”

“I’m visiting friends,” I replied non-committally.

“Ah, of course. A pony with thestral friends.” The mare’s hissing chuckle made my mane itch. What was she expecting me to say? That I was a curious tourist? “And who are these ‘friends’?” she asked.

“I’m trying to find a mare by the name of Glimmer,” I replied truthfully. I checked my injured leg. I couldn’t see anything through the bandages of course, but I could certainly feel it aching, throbbing in time with my heart. I wasn’t sure if it was a broken or not, but this sure as hell wasn’t the kind of land anypony wanted to be immobilised in. I would just have to put my faith in the odd thestral. I cleared my throat, “My name’s-”

“Fairlight. Yes,” the mare interrupted. I blinked in surprise, watching her nod in satisfaction at the mixture in the mortar. “You spoke in the fever dream,” she explained. “My name is Briar, and you were brought here by warriors undertaking the rite of ‘first claw’. A rite,” she clarified, “which you interrupted by slaying their prey.”

“Their prey? You mean the manticore?” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “That thing tried to kill me! And...” Suddenly I realised what had been niggling at the back of my mind since waking up. “Shade! Briar, did they find a foal?” I asked urgently, “A young thestral. She was with me in the wood, and-”

“Ack!”

“And she’s here...” I closed my eyes and leaned back, letting out a loud sigh of relief. Shade scrabbled at the side of the bed, quickly managing to pull herself up to walk rather painfully over my chest. Curling up like some contented house cat, she snuggled into my back with a gentle sigh. Fortunately for me she managed to find the one place that wasn’t covered in bandages.

“Shade?” Briar nodded slowly to herself, “A good name. I approve.”

I wasn’t sure what to say. The mare had that unmistakable air of age about her that reminded me of my aunt, despite looking for all intents and purposes like a thestral around Shadow’s age. Not that that was saying much, even Thorn and Star Beard hadn’t looked that different from the other thestrals around them. Well, perhaps their coats were a bit more wrinkly and their manes bearing streaks of grey hair, but who knew how long these guys lived for? Thorn was at least a thousand years old and Star Beard older still by my reckoning. Come to think of it, I don’t think I’d ever asked Star Swirl about his peculiar student, but I could always sate my curiosity at a later date. Other more pressing matters were demanding my attention now, such as finding Glimmer and getting home to… oh gods… the mess! I groaned under my breath; an act that the mare, Briar, picked up on straight away.

“You are in a hurry to leave,” she observed, walking towards me. “It is good to finish a journey, equestrian. Even one whose ending you cannot foresee.”

“I’m sorry?” I went to sit up again only to receive a tap on the nose as the thestral mare began to unwrap one of my bandages.

She carefully inspected the wound, sniffing at it closely to check for any signs of infection. “Your injuries will take time to heal,” she explained, nodding to herself, “manticores seldom leave their prey alive, nor recognisable.”

I didn’t doubt that for a moment. The manticore reminded me of one of natures blenders, leaving their targets as unrecognisable mush. Or dung, dependant upon how hungry they were at the time. “And your warriors hunt them as part of this rite?” I asked.

Briar nodded. “They do. All warriors must prove themselves against one of the beasts that inhabit this realm.”

Suddenly a thought popped into my head. “This is the thestral afterlife, isn’t it?” I asked. “We’re not in the Wither World?”

“You don’t know where you are?” the mare asked, blinking in surprise at my question.

“Well, yes, of course I do,” I babbled. “It’s just that I’d imagined the thestral heaven to be more… that is, a little less dangerous?”

Briar chuckled as she carefully began wiping the poultice from my wound. “Thestral’s do not see life in the same way as equestrians. To us, the afterlife is a place where our warriors can truly prove themselves, where they can find their place beside their ancestors in the great halls of the tribes.”

“By hunting?” I asked.

She shrugged, “Amongst other things.”

I’ll say one thing for Briar, she had a light touch for such a frightening looking creature. Shadow was the same in that regard, but wonderfully feminine too. In fact in many respects she appeared to be quite far removed from the what you could think of as the more typical members of her species. Take Glimmer for example. She was far more what I would say was your typical thestral: brave, utterly fearless, and with a taste for adventure and conflict that would have had your everyday equestrian running for the hills without looking back. Now that I thought about it there was little to differentiate between the sexes in some regards. Personally speaking being around thestrals resonated with that part of me that craved adventure, demanding I take risks that I normally would have balked at, and it was also the part that had nearly had me killed on more than one occasion. I never admitted its existence to Meadow of course, but I would have put money on her knowing about it all too well. You don’t live with somepony for years and not pick up on some of their more ‘non-mainstream’ traits. Meadow had hers too of course, and had her own sense of adventure deep down inside that quiet exterior of hers. Having Sparrow had dulled it to a certain extent, but I bet it could still be heard at the back of her mind now and again. That mare had more layers than one of her cakes.

“How came you by this foal?” Briar asked suddenly.

“Oh, she...” I paused. I didn’t want to lie, but I didn’t know a damned thing about her either. “She’s an orphan,” I said. “I’m taking her to my friend Glimmer so she can be brought up amongst her own people.”

“I see...” Briar smiled distantly. “So you brought her to the world of the dead to give her a new life?”

“No! I...” I sighed, “Look, what else could I do? I can’t take her to the Withers. I’m dead, so travelling there is out of the question.”

“And yet you have a living, breathing thestral foal.” Briar finished smearing the poultice over my wound and began covering it with clean bandages. “Manticore venom sends the victim to sleep so they may feed,” she explained. “Eventually you would have awoken, if you had survived the blood loss and shock. It is impressive you were able to defeat such a beast with so small a knife.” Briar smiled that thin smile or hers I’d noticed from when I’d first woken up. I had a feeling she knew far more than she was letting on, but I’d play along with her. She didn’t seem a bad old stick, even if she struck me as a bit of a recluse. Part of me expected to find hordes of cats hidden under ever piece of furniture, but maybe I was being a little melodramatic about the whole situation. “You are a warrior for your people?” she asked.

“No,” I answered. “I was a watchstallion. An officer who enforced the law.”

“Do you have manticores in Equestria that break these laws?”

I couldn’t help but chuckle. I was sure she was responding to me with her own brand of sarcasm, which I found strangely compelling. “Only on Sunday’s,” I quipped, “and twice before meals.”

A huff of smoke drifted from the mare’s nostrils. “You drink tea?”

I nodded, “I do.”

Briar got up and walked over to the firepit, lifting up the lid on the small black kettle. Carefully, she lifted it from the hook and poured the boiling water into a teapot made from the same crystal-like material I’d use to whack the manticore with. It was certainly put to better use as a receptacle for hot beverages. Soon the delicious aroma of tea began to waft over my muzzle and I realised just how thirsty I actually was. Briar set the cup on the table beside the bed as I used my magic to lift it up to my dry lips. Carefully I took a sip, letting out a heartfelt sigh as the earthy brew caressed my taste buds, slipping down my throat and warming my insides. From the corner of my eye I could see Briar watching me. Her gaze never left me for even a second, those strange red eyes watching every movement I made.

“Good?” she asked.

I nodded. “Very.” I glanced back at Shade who was fast asleep, the excitement of our narrow escape from the manticore no doubt having taken its toll on her. “I imagine you don’t get many ponies visiting your world,” I said putting the cup down.

Briar shook her head, “No. Many years ago our people had more contact with yours, but that was long before the great war. Most ponies don’t care to visit now. I suspect few realise we even exist.”

“I’d have to agree with you there,” I replied honestly. “The war with Nightmare Moon and the Legion wasn’t exactly the kind of topic discussed outside of higher academic circles. Mostly it was centered around the conflict between Celestia and her sister, if it was ever mentioned at all.”

For a while we simply sat, sipping our tea. Briar adjusted her cloak, but other than that seemed quite content to just enjoy her drink. Finally she spoke, “You do not find our appearance troubling?”

I shook my head, “Far from it. I’ve been to the Wither World and made many friends there amongst the tribes.”

“Then you have done more than most of your people,” the curious mare replied. “For a race forgotten by most equestrians, you have made friends with us and travel with a thestral foal. You will perhaps forgive the curiosity of an old mare?”

I closed my eyes and smiled, “Of course, Briar. You pulled my fat out of the fire, both mine and Shade’s. For that, you have my eternal thanks.”

“Ah, an expression I have not heard for a very long time!” The mare’s laugh brought a smile to my own face. Talking to her reminded me of Shadow in some ways, causing my heart to ache at the memories it evoked. “Which tribes did you meet?”

“The Beyond,” I replied. “The Purple Sands and the Broken Cliff too.”

Briar nodded slowly, staring into her tea as though she were able to see through the rising steam into the truth of my words. I knew she was unsure about whether to trust me, and to be honest I was unsure of her motivations as well. We had barely met, and not in best of circumstances either. I decided to bring the topic of conversation round to one that had me genuinely puzzled and may help break through the awkwardness of the situation.

“Briar,” I began. “In my travels across the Wither World I never encountered any foals. One of my friends told me that the thestral race is dying out due to low birth rates and being in a constant state of war with neighbouring tribes. Is this truly the case?”

The mare snugged her cloak around herself, tucking it in under her haunches. “It is. Unlike now, mares never used to be warriors when I was alive; that was a role left to the males. We were kept at home, protected as something precious to our people. Our chieftains knew that to lose females in battle was to lose potential children for the future prosperity of the tribe.” She smiled bitterly, “But, as the goddess wills it, times change. With fewer children being born, the old leaving for the darklands and stallions dying in battle, soon the tribes began to see their females differently than they once had. And gradually, they too were used to swell the ranks of the warriors.”

“Which only exacerbated the problem,” I added. I glanced down at Shade, watching her sleeping so peacefully. It was hard to imagine that one day she could be wielding an axe in battle with the kind of monster we had encountered in the wood. Or even her own kind.

Briar sighed and took a sip of her tea. “Nowadays fewer and fewer of us come to the darklands. And those that do are often far beyond foaling age. From the stories they tell I fear that we are reaching the point where our kind will exist only as a memory, and even that shall eventually be forgotten in time. Perhaps… even by the goddess herself.”

“Luna hasn’t forgotten you,” I said reassuringly. “She fought with the tribes against the changelings to protect Equestria.”

Briar chuckled, “Yes, I heard this.” She shrugged it off with a thin smile. “But Luna is not the goddess she once was, as I believe you are aware, yes?”

“Nightmare Moon,” I said quietly.

The ancient mare nodded.

“But there is still hope for your people though,” I said trying to lighten the atmosphere. “Shade is evidence of that.”

“Yes…” Briar smiled sadly. “An all too rare light in the darkness.” She lowered her muzzle and looked up at me, “She was not born of our world, was she?”

“I...” I paused, reaching up to scratch my mane and thought better of it. There were bandages there too like the rest of my body. “I don’t really know.”

“Oh, I think you do.” The mare chuckled under her breath and took another sip of her tea before fixing me with her orange eyes. “Glimmer is not her mother. I should know, as I would be aware of any births in the darklands.”

I froze, locking eyes with her. “Who are you?” I asked. “Really?”

Briar raised an eyebrow, “You wish me to answer your questions, and yet you have not been truthful with me.”

“I haven’t lied to you, Briar,” I replied.

“No… No, you haven’t. But you haven’t been fully honest with me either.” She shook her head, her black mane catching the lamplight like oil on water. “You have perhaps heard the term, ‘lying by omission’?”

She had me there, and I had the impression the old girl had more than a few of the proverbial cards up her sleeve too. “You already know who I am,” I said, watching her closely.

“Of course!” Briar laughed, slapping her hind leg before nodding animatedly. “I would have had to have been blind and deaf not to have known.” She grinned, her lips emphasising those sharp teeth of hers. “A pony appears in our realm with a thestral foal, kills a manticore and acts as though meeting me is the most normal thing in the world?” Briar shook her head, “You may as well have been lighting signals fires and beating drums where you arrived here. I think we all know who you are, Lord Fairlight of the Four Winds.”

I huffed and looked away. “I was. Now I’m just a dead pony, and no amount of kicking is going to get my corpse moving again, Briar.”

“You don’t long to be back with your tribe?” Briar asked in surprise.

I shook my head, “I am with my tribe,” I said. “My wife and daughter.”

“But not the others.” Briar watched me carefully, observing my every motion like I was some damned lab animal. It was starting to irritate me, but I took a breath and tried to reach down for that sense of calm that never seemed to bloody well be there when I needed it.

“They’ll be with us one day,” I said simply. “What I was has gone, Briar. I never asked to become the ‘Lord of the Four Winds’, but then I wasn’t exactly given any choice in the matter. And that, I’m sorry to say, is all there is to it.”

Briar said nothing. She didn’t move. She just sat and watched me. Time passed, my cup emptied, and only the crackling of the fire was left to make any sound in the silence of that strange home. I had the feeling I’d offended my host, but right at that moment I simply didn’t care. I wanted to be healed and away with Shade from this place so I could go back to what passed as a normal afterlife. One of these days I’d like to experience something called ‘peace of mind’. Personally though, I doubted such a thing existed at all.

“I am the seer for the tribes in the darklands,” Briar announced suddenly, dispelling the heavy atmosphere. “You asked me who I am, and so I tell you this now, truthfully.”

Ah. So, she was like a wise mare then? I closed my eyes and nodded. If she was going to show her hoof, then it would be wrong of me not to reciprocate in kind. “I took work recently within the herd to find lost souls and bring them home,” I explained. “On my last mission I was sent to recover the soul of a foal who’d died in the mountains. Her name was Tehma, a young child of one of the northern equestrian tribes.” I closed my eyes, willing away the images of the frozen corpse lying half buried in the snow. “I didn’t expect the mother to arrive and find her body, especially while we were still there.” I paused, trying to recall the tragic series of events that had lead up to the creation of the small creature lying beside me. “In her grief she took her own life, and she… ‘changed’.” I shook my head, “I can’t describe it very well as I’ve never seen anything like it before in my life, but her spirit seemed to morph before my very eyes, and she became… Shade.”

The seer closed her eyes and nodded. Had she known this all along and was just waiting for me to tell her the truth?

“She is of us, but not of us,” Briar said quietly. “She is… incomplete.”

My ears suddenly pricked up. “I’ve heard that before. Not about Shade, but about another thestral.” Oh goddesses… Shadow. “Star Beard told me that thestrals could come from ponies,” I continued, “but I thought I’d misunderstood something he’d said. How is this possible, Briar? What does it mean? What does any of it mean?”

Briar raised her hoof. “I think,” she said pleasantly, “another cup of tea is needed.”

********************

In the semi-darkness of the domed hut the two of us talked for hours, pleasantly whiling away the time like a couple of old friends who’d known each other for years rather than two strangers who had only met a scant few hours earlier. To my surprise I felt quite comfortable talking about my life back in Equestria to the black coated mare. For her part, Briar was an excellent listener. She told me about her life in the Wither World and how she had taken over the role of seer in the darklands when the last one had taken ‘the awakening’ - the thestral equivalent of opting for reincarnation. The problem with that line of thinking however was that there were rarely any foals to be reincarnated into. What this meant for her people neither she nor I could say. Perhaps it meant simply oblivion, the total absence of the self. Whatever it meant it was a terrifying prospect, and yet one that this enigmatic race simply accepted as the divine and immutable will of the goddess. I’m not certain Luna would have agreed on that point. In any case it seemed that the mysterious Briar was the unofficial focal point for all the tribes of the darklands, acting as a neutral body for those wishing to speak about a wide range of matters from personal relationships to inter-tribal mediation. From what she had told me there was very little difference between the thestral world of the living and that of the dead. They fought each other as they had for aeons, slaying their foes only to be ‘reborn’ once more, ready to fight, feast, and drink with their brothers and sisters before doing it all over again in some unfathomable cycle of violence that I simply couldn’t make mane nor tail of. Only the gods could understand these creatures, because the more I heard the less sense any of it made. Did I truly know so little of this race? Of Shadow? I was beginning to realise, far too late as usual, just how little I really did know.

“What does it mean when you say thestrals born of ponies are ‘incomplete’?” I asked.

A sad smile ghosted across her face as she stood and walked over to a shelf full of earthenware jars. “I believe it is time for you to understand.” Her voice was distant, gentle, like the waves lapping against the shoreline. “It has been a long time since I told our story to anyone other than our own people, and even they have forgotten much of what all of us once knew.” She rose up on her hind legs, taking down a dark brown jar before settling herself beside the fire. “Come, join me.”

Briar waved a hoof, indicating a cushion beside her. I dreaded the prospect of moving, but more so of disturbing the still sleeping foal who had been snuggled into my back. Fortunately my fears were unwarranted as the tiny creature merely shifted over to the warm spot I, rather painfully, vacated. I was careful of my foreleg nonetheless, but being able to move, to drag myself from that warm sanctuary, was actually a relief. I felt more confident now that I was able to stand, even if it was only to move a few feet before gingerly lowering my posterior onto the cushion. Sitting this close to Briar was strange too. Although at first I’d been taken by how similar she was to Shadow, now that I could see her up close the differences were becoming more apparent. Unlike my beloved thestral mare, Briar had a deep green tint to her coat that you could only see in glimpses. Her eyes had an orange hint to them too, rather than the rich red of Shadow’s, and her muzzle was slightly shorter. No doubt to one another they would be able to tell the differences between individuals as naturally as ponies could tell one multicoloured fellow from another. Good gods, had it been that long since I’d been in the Wither World? Had I forgotten so much? My memory had certainly improved greatly of late, but there were still… ‘holes’. Parts of who I was, what I had been, my friends, my loved ones, were still noticeably absent. Some memories resolutely dodged my attempts at recalling them, but many others had, piece by tiny piece, been fitting back into place without my realising it. I wasn’t sure whether that was a blessing or a curse. There were aspects of the old Fairlight that I didn’t care to recall, and yet they were still a part of the whole. Parts, that made me who I am.

I was startled from my thoughts by a large whuff of smoke from the fire.

“It is time for you to open your eyes,” Briar said quietly. “By breathing the smoke we recall our past, recalling the lives of our tribes, the lives of our brothers and sisters who have gone into the shining lands. It is a key, a key to our histories and memories. It is who we are. It is what we are.”

I inhaled, taking the smoke into my lungs and trying my best not to choke. It wasn’t as thick and cloying as I expected, but rather… surprisingly pleasant. A light, spicy, fresh fragrance swirled around my muzzle, caressing both my body and my soul. I felt oddly happy too. All my troubles, all my fears, even my pains and aches simply ceased to matter. I could feel my body gradually starting to relax, letting go of all the darkness and suffering I had endured, and simply accepting it all as the will of the gods. Everything that was, everything that is and will be, all came together here in this place. Nothing was hidden here. Nothing was forbidden. I was who I was. I had simply forgotten. Even the song was warming and gentle, flowing over me as Briar sang in a language I didn’t recognise but could somehow understand on a level I had never known existed. It had been born within me, as it had been with all ponies. With all living creatures. We had merely forgotten it. Now… it was time to remember.

We are the first. We bring life to emptiness. We bring light to the darkness. We are the first.

Voices, distant and ever present, spoke as whispers from the emptiness. There was only blackness. The total absence of everything, even light.

We are the first.

I was blinded. A sense of weightlessness, not of falling, but of the utter nothingness of the void, surround me. And then, with a silent pulse of unimaginable power, a pinprick of light bursts from the dark.

We are home.

Colours. So many colours! They explode into being, filling the void with incalculable points of intense silver light. Poured from the vessel of the gods; constellations, swirling galaxies, worlds full of the most wondrous possibilities burst forth from the void. The creators watch in silence as these tiny oases of beauty blossom in the infinity of the universe. But on this tapestry of divine elegance there is one planet, one alone where the gods focus their attention. It is here that the all-father, the god of gods, mightiest and most terrible of the divines, has elected to have as his own. And it is this world, this fledgling ball of green land, blue oceans, grey mountains and rolling hills, that he wrought the creation of his mind and heart.

We are the first.

The all-father, from his own body and his own blood, crafts the first of the people with his breath. With his love he gifts them with the spark of life, and with his mind, the power of thought and self determination.

We are his children.

For aeons the world is theirs until one of the gods, Uilean, the jealous one, the trickster of the gods and brother of the all-father, sees the love his brother has for his creation. Jealousy darkens Uilean’s soul. His selfish desire for his brother’s love drives him to send a seed of corruption into the hearts of the people, tainting them with the sin of Uilean himself: jealousy. The all-father watches as his beloved creations turn upon one another, taking the lives of their mothers and fathers, brothers and sisters, locked forever in a state of perpetual warfare. Filled with divine fury, the all-father confronts his traitorous brother and they war amongst the stars of heaven until, with a final mighty blow, Uilean is cast down, down to below the very world his brother had created. Here the all-father locked Uilean away for all eternity to serve as the master of Tartarus, the keeper of a prison of his own making, and one that he can never escape. But for the people, there is no joy in the defeat of the cruel Uilean. The poison has already run deep, staining their very souls so that even the all-father cannot stop its spread without destroying that which he wrought with his own love.

His heart broken, the all-father weeps for his children, his tears forming a river of stars in the heavens. It is here, called by his suffering, the god-mother comes upon a boat of light, sailing the river to the one who would be her husband. She grieves with him for the suffering of his creation and gifts to him the ones born of the river of his pain. Together they create a new life, a gentle, kind life for the world below that has been torn apart by the brutality of war. But love cannot survive alongside the stain of jealousy for else it too would become corrupted by Uilean’s seed. And so, driven by grief and the love of his wife, the all-father creates a new world, a world within a world, where the people could live apart from the children of the god-mother to form their own destiny, away from the light of the gods.

Exile.

The all-father and god-mother shared in the joy their new children had brought to the land of light and life, revelling in their song and joy. But the all-father never forgot the people, nor how he had been betrayed by his brother. And so he and the god-mother bore unto the firmament two daughters: the goddess of the day, and the goddess of the night. One to rule the world of light, the world of the children of the god-mother, the other to rule the world of night, the world of the exiled children of the all-father.

We are the balance.

Time flows through the hourglass of life and death for both worlds, and the children of the god-mother, safe beneath her radiance, forgot the tales of their kin. But the children of the all-father did not forget. They wait still. Waiting for the day Uilean finally breaks free of his prison to wage war against his brother and bring about the end of the world with his legions of the damned.

The images fade on the world of sand. A world as dark as the night sky. The night sky of the goddess of the moon. The goddess of the thestrals.

Briar watched me from beside the fireplace, a long thin stemmed pipe poking out from the corner of her mouth adding its own smoke to that of the fire. It was different now, and as the visions and voices faded, a sense of normality descended upon me as gently as snowfall. I’d heard tell of such ‘spirit journeys’ before, but not with thestrals. They were, from what I’d heard, a kind of drug induced hallucination supposedly used to open you up to being able to see the truth of things on a spiritual level. Yaks were the ones most notable for using such things, griffins and llamas too for that matter. But what I’d seen… was this just a story? A fantasy of an exiled people? Gods, it was so real!

“It was real.” Briar waved a hoof at something beside my hind leg. It was a pipe, the twin of the one the strange mare was already smoking. “Take it,” she said encouraging me to pick up the already packed pipe. “The smoke will help clear your mind of the visions.” Sensing my hesitation she pushed a familiar wrapped parcel towards me. “Food. You must eat. The visions draw on your life energy and create hunger within.”

I nodded and opened the package of… Sea Scour’s snacks? I looked up at the mare in surprise.

“Our warriors recovered your belongings,” Briar explained, “and I have repaired your packs.” She gestured towards something hanging over the back of a chair. When had she done that?! Good goddesses, she’d tended my wounds, repaired my packs, and took it all in her stride as though it were the sort of thing she did every day!

I took one of the snacks a popped it into my mouth, crunching through the pastry into the spiced meat within. It was delicious, as was the tea that accompanied it. “Why are you doing all this for me, Briar?” I asked. “You’ve put yourself out for a complete stranger, and an equestrian one at that.”

“Expecting me to ask for something in return?” Briar asked curiously. “Would you not do the same for me if the roles were reversed?”

I shrugged, “I would.” Smiling, I lit my pipe and drew in the smoke. Woody, earthy notes and a hint of fruit danced around my mouth. I’d had this before - long, long ago.

“I suspect many of your people would not,” Briar replied.

“I wouldn’t be so sure, Briar,” I said, blowing out a thin plume of smoke. “Ponies are a friendly lot by and large. They would just need time to get to know you, that’s all.”

“Hah!” Briar slapped her hind leg and barked out a laugh, “Such an optimist!” She pointed her pipe at me and shook her head, smiling. “You surprise me, Fairlight. You treat our people as you would your own. Maybe the visions were unnecessary for a mind as open as yours.”

Perhaps she right. I don’t recall being that surprised by Shadow when I’d first seen her. Certainly nothing like the reaction she’d had from ponies as grizzled and cynical as the chief. Gods! I could still see the look on his face when he saw Shadow trotting into the Wyvern’s Tail for the first time!

“Those visions,” I asked, “they were of the origins of your people. The origins of thestrals, right?” Briar nodded. “So, if the gods locked your people away in another world,” I mused, “it still doesn’t explain how our little Shade here popped up in Equestria.”

Briar shook her head and leaned back against the wall. “No.” She took a long breath, her voice sounding a lot less jovial than it had a moment ago. “That is a part of the story that many amongst our people do not know. Not because it is untrue, but because it is true. Not many like to hear truthes that they do not wish to believe.”

Which made sense, I suppose. “This has happened before?” I asked.

“Many times, although our people would not openly admit it.” Briar cocked her head on one side. “Your mate, Shadow? She has not told you of how she came to be?”

“It’s… complicated,” I replied. And then I gave myself a shake, mentally bucking myself hard. Skirting around the issue had been a foolish, even cowardly decision of mine, and it had remained an open topic that I had never had the damned balls to resolve. I guess I’d never thought it especially important, especially as Shadow had never talked to me about it, and so I had just let it go. Now… now I wanted to know. Honesty was usually the best policy after all. “I was told she was incomplete,” I explained. “She was always very quiet and I put it down to her simply being shy or not the type to talk much. I didn’t exactly know much about thestrals anyway, but she always seemed a bit distant, introspective perhaps. Honestly, with everything else that’s happened I just never had the time to ask, and now... it’s too late.” I hung my head for a moment and felt a wave of sadness flow through me. “Briar, can you tell me?”

Briar nodded. “If Shadow is, as you say, ‘incomplete’, then it is likely she is one of ‘the gifts’.”

“The gifts?” I asked. “I haven’t heard that before.”

“Neither have many of our own people,” Briar admitted. “At least, not by that name. We are a dying race, Fairlight. I believe you know that already.” I nodded in reply as she continued. “Low birth rates, constant warring with neighbouring tribes...” Briar sighed, “It is only a matter of time before the only thestrals left are here in the Darklands, and the Withers becomes the home for little more than monsters, spirits, and dragons.”

I dare say there are those who would classify thestrals as ‘monsters’. Still, these ‘gifts’ had my interest piqued and I settled back with another pastry, passing one to Briar who took it with a smile. She was quite endearing really. I wonder if thestrals here were all like her: wise in the ways of the world and with an aura of calm maturity that reminded me of Star Beard and Thorn, though I doubted it somehow. Briar took down a jar and passed it to me. I knew what it was straight away by the strong, sweet scent that emanated from it even before I opened it. I closed my eyes and felt a shudder of anticipation run through me from the tip of my nose to the dock of my tail.

Spirit berries.

“Eat,” Briar said, “but no more than six. Any more and your spirit may not be able to return home.”

My expression must have been priceless. “I couldn’t go back to the herd?” I stared down into the jar. “Bloody hell, I knew these things were bad for you if you had too many, but… damn!”

Briar chuckled as she drew on her pipe, “It would only be temporary,” she said with a smile. “Spirit berries strengthen life force in the living, but also the spirit in the afterlife. You are no mere pony, Lord Fairlight, and to have too many of the berries may have effects one can only begin to speculate about. Either way, the gateway to your eternal herd would reject you if it found, shall we say, anomalies?”

I stared into the jar, giving the berries a new found level of wary respect. “I think I’ll just have the six then.” I fished out half a dozen and placed them on the plate beside the snacks.

“These pastry parcels are delectable,” Briar stated, helping herself to another. “You do not have any ill effects from eating meat?”

I shook my head, “Not at all.” I shrugged my shoulders, tucking into one of the berries. “I think it has something to do with being a wendigo. I probably know less about them than I do about your people, Briar.”

“Have you not spoken with any?” Briar’s voice carried a hint of surprise. I didn’t blame her either. Even to me it sounded odd.

“I haven’t made the effort,” I confessed. “With the loss of my wendigo powers I just became, well, the old me I suppose - a pony just like any other. I’ve asked about other wendigo but they had either ‘moved on’, accepted being a regular pony, or…” I sat up suddenly as I remembered something I’d been told. “They came here.”

Briar smiled, “Oh, they did, and many still live here with our people to this very day.” She lifted her hoof, “But more of that later. First, I must finish my tale as I have digressed. I fear my lack of company leads my mind to wander away from its proper course from time to time.” Chuckling, Briar tossed her mane and shifted herself into a more comfortable position. “The gifts,” she explained. “According to legend they are created when a life comes to an end in grief and sorrow. You saw this, yes?” I nodded. Briar took a pull on her pipe, the smoke wreathing her muzzle adding a disturbing haze to her glowing eyes. “Some believe the all-father still loves his creation, the people, and did not want to see them vanish from creation. And so, hiding this from the god-mother, he used his power to snatch a soul from the grasp of Uilean, the keeper of the underworld, and used his brother’s curse to help create a new life. A new child of the people. These, we call the gifts. For if the story is true, then it truly is a blessing from the all-father.”

“He has to hide this from his wife?!” I asked in amazement.

Briar dismissed it with a wave of her hoof. “Do you not hide things from your wife, Fairlight?”

She had me there. I sighed and nodded, “I do, but usually small things like the odd sneaky pipe or a brandy.” I munched down another berry. “You said ‘some believe’, so what do others think?”

“That they are the children of Uilean,” Briar said casually. “That they are not true thestrals but a physical manifestation of the curse that the all-father’s brother placed upon us that had us banished here at the beginning of time.”

“That doesn’t bode well for the gifts,” I suggested.

“It doesn’t.” Briar shook her head sadly. “When they are found, they are usually killed. Some however, believe that they truly are a gift from the all-father and raise them as their own. They are a rarity now in the Wither World. If you had left young Shade she would have found her way there eventually. Her blood will call to her to make the journey.” She paused, “Why did you take her with you?”

“How could I not?” I replied. “She’s just a child, and-” Something thumped into me making me nearly choke on the spirit berry. “Bloody hell! Shade?”

“Ack!”

I let out a sigh of relief and let her curl up in my lap, treat and all. Briar’s eyes drifted to the foal, her expression one of longing and a sadness that cried out to me. “Do you want to hold her?” I asked.

Briar hesitated, her eyes widening in surprise at my offer. Did she believe the tale about them being cursed? But then, closing her eyes, she bobbed her head, “Please.”

“Come on sleepy,” I smiled, lifting Shade in my magic. She yawned and opened her eyes, looking about her as she floated into Briar’s open forelegs. The little foal peered up at the thestral mare and burped. For a moment my heart leaped into my throat as the memory of lightning surged through my mind. I needn’t have worried.

“She has wind,” Briar noted with a look of surprise. “What have you been feeding her?”

Oh hell! I decided to own up, “Well, the treats we’ve been eating of course.” Briar looked at the snacks and nodded, returning her gaze to Shade as I continued, “And a cheese omelette.”

“Omelette?”

“Well, it’s eggs really,” I explained. “Whisked up and poured into a frying pan. When the underside is cooked you chuck in some cheese, flip the other half over, and bobs your uncle. One cheese omelette.”

Briar rolled her eyes, which was quite a sight to see in a thestral. “Eggs will give her wind,” she said with a huff that would have put one of Meadow’s ‘looks’ to shame. “It can be painful for her and needs to be brought up.” Carefully, the black mare rose to her hooves and motioned for me to do the same. “Come, this is not something to do inside.”

“You can say that again!” I gently folded my magic around Shade and plopped her onto Briar’s back. At first both mare and foal looked surprised, but I managed to catch the faint smile in Briar’s eyes - a smile that warmed my heart. I followed the two of them outside the hut and into the open air. “My goddess...”

All around me were trees; hundreds, thousands maybe. It was a forest of crystal that shone so brightly and with such beauty that I felt tears stinging the corners of my eyes. For all its emptiness and starkly bleak landscape, the realm of the thestrals was truly a place of wonder. Dangerous wonder, true, but wonder nonetheless. Briar walked past me and sat down on her haunches. Carefully, she took Shade in her forelegs, placing her gently over her shoulder and began to rub her back as a song, so alien yet so full of love, rose into the eternal night. I’d heard songs sung in the hall of the Broken Cliff tribe. They’d been bawdy, loud, and full of the power of the thestral warriors. But this, this was a song of a mother for her child, the meaning if not the words conveying a surprising level of gentleness I hadn’t thought these creatures capable of. I felt ashamed to have thought such things. Now, standing here with these two, I felt the love I had for Shadow smoulder and burst into a blazing hot fire within me. Most of all I felt the connection the thestrals had with their world, and the loss of their home from so long ago.

Lightning flashed, bursting across the forest and into the night sky, joining the song with its magic. A roaring burp would normally have spoiled such a touching moment, if not for the childish giggle of happiness from the tiny life held in Briar’s forelegs. I smiled. She was with her people now, and this was where she truly belonged. Even if it did break my heart...

The rest of the day, or what passed for day here, passed by with Briar and I sitting beneath the alien sky as Shade played nearby. Strange birds flitted between the trees, peculiar transparent things that looked like tiny ghosts zooming this way and that so fast it was hard to keep up with them. “What are those?” I asked, watching Shade leaping around trying to catch them. I was reminded of Shadow bringing one of the things to me in Withers and trying to get me to eat the horrible looking creature. How I hadn’t thrown up was anyponies guess; the bloody thing had still been flapping too. “I’ve seen them before in the Withers.”

“White Spectrals,” Briar said lifting a hoof towards them. “They live in the trees, feeding on the smaller spirits that slip in between the worlds.”

“Are they edible?” I asked.

Briar chuckled, “Oh, yes. Why, would you like to try one?”

“NO!” I sat up a little too quickly and felt one of my injuries send a warning jolt of pain through my back. “No… thank you.”

The old mare leaned back against the tree and smiled distantly. “There are many other forms of life in the Wither World that are mirrored here,” she explained. “Some are farmed for food, clothing, and for testing the mettle of the warriors.”

“Like the manticore,” I replied.

Briar nodded. She poured us a cup of tea and passed me a strange looking pastry. Not one of Sea Scour’s I noted, but just as tasty. I thought it would be best not to ask exactly what was in it. I had eaten thestral cuisine before, and I can attest to the fact that sometimes ignorance, truly was bliss. I guess the ‘rules’ of the thestral realm were very different from the ones that governed the eternal herd. And now that I thought about it, the griffins hunted their food too. What about the heaven for manticores and these spectral birds, didn’t they get a look in? Gods, it could make your brain ache just trying to think about it. Time for a change of conversation I think…

“What can you tell me about the wendigo here, Briar?”

“The wendigo...” Briar’s voice trailed off as she took a pull on her pipe. “There were many of them once. They hoped to be able to make a home here as they had in the mortal realm, deep in the gods hoof mountains where the ice dragons fly.” She sighed and shook her head sadly, “Some returned and went back to the herd, whereas others... we never saw again.”

“I guess they weren’t able to change back to their wendigo forms then?” I asked.

Briar shook her head, “No. The magic of these realms cleanses souls of taints, including that of the wendigo. I expect you already know this, yes?”

I nodded. “I do, but I expect the wendigo didn’t. And by the time they found out it was too late.”

“It was always too late,” Briar added. “Their pilgrimage to the mountains was fruitless, and those who weren’t eaten by dragons, froze to death, or went mad with sorrow, went back to the eternal herd to spend their eternity as any other pony.”

“Damn...” I leaned back and closed my eyes. “I wasn’t born a wendigo, but even I feel some sense of loss. For them, it must have been hell.”

“Many believed this was their hell,” Briar nodded. “Wendigo live very long lives compared to other equestrians. For those, the mountains were their last hope.” She sipped her tea thoughtfully, “A sad tale for so proud a people.”

“Yeah...”

Truthfully I couldn’t even begin to fathom how they must have felt, especially after realising that the afterlife wasn’t the heaven they had expected it to be. Sure, I had some pangs of regret about losing my ability to fly and the incredible magical power that came with it. The pull of those memories often cried out their longing for that lost side of me, but I could deal with that for the most part. Now if I had been born a wendigo and lived a long life as one of the four winds tribe, then my current pangs of regret would have been a drop in the ocean compared to that overwhelming sense of utter despair. Taken in context I could understand how being denied that part of you would have driven you to desperate acts. Or worse.

“I’d have thought the gods would have allowed them to retain their powers here,” I said half to myself. “This seems… cruel.”

“Cruel?” Briar barked out a laugh, “The gods do not care about what we think of as right and wrong, my equestrian friend. We are as ants to them, and although they may not hold wendigo in contempt, they would not create a whole new world for what many believe are self inflicted difficulties.” She shifted her position and put another piece of wood on the fire. “Wendigo are ponies who bonded with the spirits of the netherworld of their own accord. When they die they return to what they were originally: ponies. How they ‘feel’ about it holds no interest for their creators.”

Briar was right. I didn’t want to believe it, but what she said made sense. I stared down into the burning logs on the fire as though staring into the flaming heart of a reality that was too harsh, too alien, to fully comprehend. Part of me had believed that there was a place here for the wendigo when they passed over to the afterlife, that even though I had wanted to stay with my wife and child, the part of me that was the wendigo still had somewhere I could… belong. I was torn. I was a soul of two worlds: that of the equestrian, the pony I had been born as, and that of the spirit of the mountains - a wendigo, flying free and singing the song of winter in the northern ranges. Suddenly I felt a chill shiver through my heart. I was alone. I was hopelessly, irredeemably lost, in a world where I didn’t belong. It was in that moment, here in this hut with a thestral mare and the little foal, that I realised just how cruel a fate my adopted brethren faced in the eternity of the afterlife. I felt a tear sting the corner of my eye and trickle down my cheek. A faint tinkling sound made my ears twitch. Opening them I saw Briar staring at the floor beneath me.

The old thestral looked up at me, her face an inscrutable mask of age old wisdom. “Perhaps you are more a wendigo than you realise, Lord Fairlight of the Four Winds.”

I glanced down at where she had been looking and caught the glint of something sparkling in the firelight. Carefully, I lifted it with my magic and let it hang there in the air between us.

“The tears of a wendigo,” Briar breathed. “A light in the darkness. A lamp to guide the lost to their home.”

I snorted out a laugh and immediately felt ashamed despite my surprise at finding the solidified tear. I hadn’t mean to scoff at my kindly host; she had done nothing but show me kindness since her warriors had found me and brought Shade and I to her. She had even shared with me some of her peoples history without asking anything from me in return. I hung my head and apologised.

“Forgive me, Briar. I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful or facetious, it’s just that I’ve heard so much about my being this ‘child of Fate’ or some such rubbish, that I have to wonder whether the whole world has gone completely potty and taken me with it, or if I’m the only one left who’s sane.” I shook my head. “I’m just a guy who was plunged into something that I wouldn’t have wished upon my worst enemy, and ended up as a… well, this.” I shrugged, “I’m not fit to guide anypony home. I can barely find my own.”

The fire crackled in the pit as the thestral mare placed another log onto it, pushing it into position with a long iron poker. I watched the sparks drift upwards into the dark ceiling as Briar spoke. “Only you can find your path, Fairlight. Thestrals do not have cutie marks to help them find theirs, but each of us still strives to find their place in the world. Either this one or the mortal one, it makes no difference. Perhaps you simply never found yours, or...” Her eyes locked onto mine, her brows narrowing as she focussed on me. “Perhaps you are already on your path and simply do not realise it.”

“So how in Equestria would I know if I was on my path or not then?” I asked a little irritably.

Briar chuckled and took a pull on her pipe, “Ah, now that is the question is it not? Many spend their whole lives trying to find their path, whereas some may believe they have found it when Fate has decreed otherwise.”

I nickered, my hind legs starting to feel cramped. Unfortunately with a small child pressed into me, moving was beginning to look like a luxury that would have to wait. “In other words, it doesn’t matter what the hell we do because we have no idea whether we are on our path or not,” I said, rubbing my leg, “because it’s all predetermined by Fate, right?”

The corners of Briar’s mouth curled up as she smiled broadly, her teeth glinting eerily in the glow from the fire. “Exactly.” She pointed her pipe at me, “But that does not mean that we should stop trying.”

“But trying to do what?” I asked her. “I just want to do what’s right and have a quiet life. Fate can sod off as far as I’m concerned.” I took a draw on my pipe and watched the smoke trickling up towards the ceiling where it mingled with the smoke from the fire.

Briar chuckled and readjusted her tail, tutting at a knot she’d found. “For a pony who wants a quiet life, my lord, you certainly have an adventurous time trying to achieve it.”

“Hah! You got that right!” I reached down and gently tickled Shade’s ears. They were long, thin and pointed like every thestrals. I’d thought they were spikes at first, rather like a dragon’s horns, but they were surprisingly sensitive. A soft stroking of them had a pleasant calming effect for both Shade and myself. She purred like a house cat and snuggled into me for warmth.

“Are you certain of your current course, Fairlight?”

I raised an eyebrow, “What do you mean?”

“The child,” Briar said, nodding towards Shade. “She treats you like you were her parent.”

“But she’s a thestral,” I replied. “What do I know of thestral foals? I nearly blew up the house with a bloody omelette for Luna’s sake!”

Briar gave a quiet laugh and leaned forward to tap out the last of the tobacco from her pipe. “I believe an Equestrian saying is appropriate here: ‘You never know until you try.’”

I huffed and reached down to pick up the tiny creature, shifting my leg to try and relieve the pins and needles as I did so. Carefully, I placed Shade in my lap and leaned back against the bed. “Briar?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you.”

A smile spread across the old thestral mare’s face as she bobbed her head, “You are welcome, Fairlight.” She suddenly clopped her hooves together and rose to her hooves. “Now, back on the bed with you. I need to check your wounds.”

“But you’ve only just checked them!” I protested.

“And you have been moving, so they need checking again.” Briar lifted Shade up and placed her on a large cushion beside the bed where she promptly fell asleep again. “As my guest,” she continued, “I would ask you politely, however as you are also my patient, I expect you to do as you are told.” She bobbed her head towards the bed and gave me a look that had me quickly scuttling back onto the straw filled sanctuary. “Now then, roll onto your left side and we shall start there.”

********************

Days rolled by in the care of the curious Briar. As my wounds healed I was able to watch the mare interacting with Shade; how they played, how she spoke and sang to her, and how she washed and groomed her. It was strangely absorbing, as well as a fascinating window into a world I knew so little about. Sadly I suspected it was also a world that few of their own kind had seen for a very, very long time. Briar’s words kept coming back to me. Shade was a ‘gift’, the same as Shadow. She was a child born of my world, Equestria, but destined for a life of her own in the Withers. Did the all-father, the god of gods, truly grant these gifts so that the thestral race could continue, or was there some other reason? I suppose it didn’t really matter anyway, the fact remained that they were resented, if not downright feared, by her own people. And, to my shame, my own. I had been told of them once by Star Beard, but he had clearly been reluctant to expand any further and had immediately changed the subject. At the time I hadn’t given it much thought, but now, seeing Briar and Shade chasing each other outside through the trees, laughing and tickling each other as they played, I began to feel ashamed at what my own people were doing. Zip Line had wanted her killed. The herd had wanted her killed. But why? If she was a gift from the god of gods, why would this be allowed? How, and what the hell gave us the right, to take a life in such an arbitrary way? I rolled off the bed and huffed angrily. Something inside me, something far down in the depths of my soul, seethed quietly.

Carefully I shrugged off the bed covers and relaid them before putting on my travelling clothes. I left my panniers hanging from a peg on the wall, neatly repaired and still bearing the scent of Sea Scour’s parcel. The contents had long gone, but the memory of eating with Briar and watching Shade greedily devouring her own in a shower of pastry was a precious time I would treasure forever. To my own people, Briar, the dark coated mare with the orange glowing eyes and lethally sharp teeth, was a being from their darkest nightmares. To me, she was a mare like any other. She was a seer, but also a mother, a sleek and mysterious being who cared for those like Shade and myself without asking for anything in return. And if there was one thing I hated, it was leaving without paying my debts.

The cloudless sky overhead was the same as it had been when I’d first arrived here: dark, endless, and yet subtly different at night. The night sky was full of stars like it had been at home, with the moon looking down from its bed of eternity. The sounds of the forest at night were different too, and filled with the sounds of creatures that I could neither see nor recognise. Briar had described some of them to me. There were the white spectrals, the near transparent birds that flew through the trees hunting insects known as pixils, a tiny two legged thing with wings that reminded me of breezies. She me told of the great lake creatures commonly known as ‘lake demons’ which provided food, leather, fats, oils, and other resources that thestrals both here and in the Withers used in their daily lives. There were other creatures I recognised from my old life in Equestria, such as the manticores, chimera, basilisks, and of course, dragons. Dragons were something of an enigma to me, but I was surprised to find I actually knew more about them than Briar, who milked me for every scrap of knowledge I had of them.

Briar was a fascinating mare, wise in the ways of her people and their gods. Their ‘true’ god was the goddess of the moon. Ostensibly this was Princess Luna, but the thestrals saw her other self, or ‘phase’ as Briar called it, to be the true goddess Nightmare Moon. I could see why, and I could also remember watching Luna leading the thestrals into battle in the Changeling lands in that guise too. Could she simply change at will? Had she absorbed that power, that immensely powerful spirit, bonding with it the way I had with the spirit from the Wither World? It was a question I had no answer to, but one which fascinated me nonetheless.

I dropped the wood carrier onto my back and tightened the girth strap with the application of a little magic. Not far away, dancing and leaping through the trees, Briar chased the squeaking and whooping Shade whose wings flapped like scraps of black leather in a comical attempt at flight. In typical thestral fashion, Briar hadn’t used hers once that I had seen, but that hadn’t meant she didn’t care for them. I’d seen her preening them every night, and I found this meticulous routine of hers oddly fascinating. I’d seen Tingles cleaning hers of course, and Shadow too, but I’d never really just sat and watched. Briar had caught me doing just that, but merely smiled and continued, leaving me blushing furiously. Best of all was that I saw Shade emulating her, or at least trying to. Even now that memory makes me smile. I shrugged the carrier into place and set off. For everything Briar had done for us the least I could do was help by collecting fire wood.

The forest was unlike anything in Equestria that I had ever seen. The crystal trees glowed with an inner light that was as eerie as it was beautiful, their colours reflecting different hues as I walked past them. They were used for building material by the tribes, and some even as weapons such as the lethally curved axes the warriors used. But as firewood, they were useless. Growing nearby was what I sought: black thorny patches of twisted branches as thick as my foreleg, and some even larger still. They were wicked looking things, and seemed strangely well paired with the landscape, perhaps even the thestrals themselves. As they grew, parts broke away and fell to the forest floor where they dried out. These pieces proved to be excellent for providing both heating and cooking fuel for the home. I used my magic to lift several good sized pieces, shaking the sand from them and dropped them into the carrier’s basket. Briar had shown me how she would steep the bark of this vicious looking plant to help make some of the myriad of concoctions and salves that she kept around her hut in case of need. Apparently thestrals from all the tribes would visit her from time to time for advice, to buy her medications, or even just to chat and have a cuppa. I guess some things really were universal, regardless of your race or culture.

I collected another piece of the thorny black wood, careful not to catch myself on the sharp spikes. These could grow to enormous sizes, as I had seen when I’d visited the Broken Cliff tribe where Shadow’s sister lived with her husband. I wondered how they were doing now? Gods, I could remember drinking Balta with the warriors in the great hall: the singing, dancing, and tests of strength that were all rolled up with a roar of laughter and music that made me long for those simpler days. Everything seemed so much more complicated now somehow, even though I were staying here with Briar. Perhaps joining the guard had been a mistake after all. There was no way round the fact that I was going to have to go back and explain my absence when I finally returned to the herd, and I doubted that would end well for me no matter what excuse I gave. Still, I did what I had to do, what needed to be done. Shade was at home here, and as much as it would hurt to say goodbye, I knew this was what she needed. Then it would simply be a case of going home, grovelling to Meadow, apologising to Zip Line, and then back to work. Yeah… simple. Not.

Oh! There was a large pile of wood that would do the job just nicely... I reached down and began to place the pieces into the basket one at a time. I wasn’t the best at manipulating more than one object at a time like other unicorns. Sadly it was a skill that I had never really developed, and to my embarrassment, hadn’t been all that bothered about either. Still, it did the job well enough, and I was able to pick up the last piece without catching my muzzle on the axe blade that was… hovering... inches from my nose...

“Celestian...” The words rolled over me, sending my hackles up and a shiver sizzling down my spine.

I swallowed, not daring to move. I was unarmed and in alien territory with a foal to protect as well as Briar. Damn it all! “Easy big guy,” I said quietly, “I’m not your enemy.”

He didn’t seem convinced. “Why are you here, Celestian?” the thestral warrior snorted, “Speak quickly before I gut you.”

“I’ve come to see my friend, Glimmer of the tribe of the Beyond.” I swivelled my eyes to try and better see the thestral, but all I was able to make out was the blade, the haft, and a warrior standing on his hind legs. I’d seen them in battle, and I knew how close I was to a very wet and messy end right at that moment.

“Glimmer?” The thestral snorted and I caught the whiff of smoke and brimstone. “I do not know of whom you speak. Are you a spy?”

I opened my mouth to reply but the distinct crunch of wood distracted me. Somepony else was here. “Lance? Who are you talking to? Who- Fairlight?”

“Hello, Glimmer,” I smiled. “I’d get up, but big and tall here seems to have me at something of a disadvantage.”

“Damn it, Lance, put your weapon away.” The mare gave the male a shove, but she may as well have been pushing a mountain.

“He is a Celestian,” the male snarled. “We kill Celestians. Even those who have already died.”

“Kinda last millennia there buddy,” I quipped, watching the axe blade catching the light along its edge. “Can’t say I was around then, but if you ask your friend here I’m sure she’ll confirm that I’m anything but a spy.”

Suddenly I was shoved to one side, but not by ‘Lance’. Glimmer’s rear loomed in my vision, together with a wildly swishing tail. I can’t say I didn’t admire the view particularly, but the circumstances certainly left quite a lot to be desired.

“Get away from him you fool!” Glimmer hissed. Smoke trickled from her nostrils, her muscles flexing as she drew her axe. “Lord Fairlight is a friend of my tribe, and if you attack him, you attack us all.”

“What foolishness is this?!” Lance snorted. “He is a Celestian and a curse upon our people, like all his kind.” The stallion backed away, still facing me, but his stance telegraphed his intentions loud and clear. “See how he cowers behind a mare! No tribe has such weak creatures as allies. May as well slit your own throats as rely on them to come to your aid in battle.”

Something inside me stirred. My dignity, my anger, call it what you will, but it felt… good. Slowly I stood up, my heart rate increasing and my muscles twitching as I locked eyes with my adversary. “Give me a weapon and I’ll show you who is a coward, you piece of shit.”

The stallion’s neigh shook the leaves on the trees, “Then come, Celestian! Let us cross blades and I will send you back to the pit where you belong.”

“Stand down, Lance.” Glimmer’s axe slid from her back with practised ease into her forehooves, the haft held solidly in a defensive stance. “Rein in your anger and use what little brain you have left. Think stallion! Lord Fairlight is a wendigo. He is an ally!”

“The wendigo ran from the field, mare,” Lance hissed. “They serve none but themselves and they have no more power in them now than the slab toothed cowards they truly are.” He lowered himself into a classic fighting stance, sliding his hind legs round to gain a better grip on the sandy forest floor. “He has challenged me, and under the rite of blades I accept.”

“Don’t be a damned fool!”

“Step aside, Glimmer,” Lance rumbled. “If you do not, then I shall cut you down as well.”

“Oh, big stallion now aren’t we, pal?” My hooves dug into the sand allowing me to distribute my weight. “You know, ‘Lance’,” I grinned, “Equestrians don’t kill their own because their dicks aren’t big enough. How’s yours? Only a little pecker are we?”

“Gods take you, Celestian. I’ll split you in half!”

I treated the guy to one of my trademark sneers, “That’s not what your wife said.”

“Damn you!”

Whoops, that did it! A bellow of rage announced the incoming charge and accompanying axe swing. To some the oncoming mass of black leathery teeth and hatred would have had them running screaming for the hills. For me, I had seen this kind of bravado and testosterone more times than I cared to recall. Perhaps I was simply beyond caring for my own safety, but I’d quickly found out the hard way that naked aggression and rage would more often than not shift the initiative to your opponent. I’d weighed this guy up quickly. He was fit, strong, and running on pure rage. Personally I was out of practice and a touch slower than I used to be, but I had experience and speed enough in me to dodge and fire off a buck that connected with the guys head with a satisfying crack. His forward momentum carried him forward and he went down in a shower of sand and spittle.

Glimmer walked over to the unconscious form and gave him a prod. “Nice.” She turned to me and shook her head, “You never change, do you.”

“Nope.” I picked up my spilled basket. “Damn it all, I’ll have to pick the whole bloody lot up again now.” I jerked my head towards the fallen thestral. “Friend of yours?”

“One of the younger members of our tribe,” she sighed. “He is desperate to achieve stallionhood through the rite of first claw.”

“I’ve heard of that. A rite of passage, right?”

Glimmer nodded, “As old as the hills.” She gave the stallion a kick. “I was acting as witness to this fool’s deeds. Now look at him. He has failed twice already and you do not get a third chance.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“He hunted a chimera and failed,” Glimmer explained wearily. “His second hunt ended when he drew a blade against an ally. As he has failed the rite, as dictated by our laws he will become a farmer rather than a warrior.”

“And if he’d manage to kill me he’d be a warrior?” I shrugged the basket into a more comfortable position on my back. “Guess I messed his plans up then.”

Glimmer snorted loudly, “Fools do not live long as warriors. You have helped him live a long life.” She leaned forward and smirked, “Sweet flanks.”

I shook my head, smiling at my friend’s cheeky wink. “Looks like I’m not the only one who hasn’t changed.”

“And why should I?” Glimmer asked with an expression of feigned shock. “Here you are in my world, casually collecting wood in the forest and displaying your rump for all to see. For shame, Lord Fairlight!”

“Oh, stop it!” I laughed. “Anyway, why don’t you come back to Briar’s hut and-”

“Briar?” Glimmer’s smile faded from her eyes like morning dew beneath the blazing sun. “The seer?” She reached towards me and grabbed me in a surprisingly tight grip, “You aren’t staying there are you? Tell me you aren’t staying with her!”

“Glimmer, bloody hell! Ease off will you!” I shook myself loose, noting her huff of annoyance. “Briar saved my life. Her warriors found me in the woods after a manticore had used me as a chew toy and dropped me off at her home.”

“As a sacrifice!” Glimmer’s eyes stared into mine, “They don’t bring equestrians to the seer for a chat, you idiot!”

“Oh for the goddess’s sake…” I sighed and jerked my head in the direction of the hut. “She took me in, tended my wounds, and cared for both of us. And I can honestly say there has been a distinct lack of sacrificing going on.”

“Fairlight, look, I can’t explain here. We’ll have to-” Glimmer froze, her eyes staring past me to something crunching across the forest floor, and coming closer by the second.

“Ah, here you are. I wondered where you wandered off to.” Briar tossed a piece of wood into my basket and looked down at the prostrate form of Lance. “It seems you have recovered better than I had hoped, Fairlight.” A small muzzle poked out from under the bundle of cloth on her back and sniffed the air, making Glimmer nicker in surprise. Briar carried on as if it was the most normal thing in the world. “Let us go back to my home and have a look at your wounds. Fooling around like this may have pulled some of the stitching, and if there is one thing I do not like it is repeating myself. In words or deeds.” Briar glanced up at Glimmer and jerked her head towards Lance. “And bring that with you. I don’t like things lying around in my woods. They attract beasts.”

“He’s not dead,” I announced, catching her up.

“If we leave him here he soon will be,” Briar replied without looking back, “and I prefer my sacrifices fresh.”

“Eh?!” My heart leaped into my throat and I side stepped, staring back at Glimmer who was busy heaving the fallen warrior onto her back. “Just a minute now Br-”

“Be quiet and help her,” Briar huffed, “or have your manners deserted you as much as your powers, lord of the wendigo?”

I stood there struck dumb. Briar was hardly one I would describe as having a gentle character, but what she said hit me right where I hadn’t expected it to: my pride. She was right though, I had lost my powers and I was now just a regular old unicorn, even if I was the lord of the four winds, at least in name. Even so, I wasn’t going to stand there and act like a rabbit in the road watching a carriage bearing down on it. Pride, even if it truly did come before the fall, meant something to me. I grit my teeth and helped lifted the still insensible Lance between us. Without another word, our party lurched back to the domed hut in the crystal forest.

From the outside, Briar’s home appeared to be surprisingly large, and not unlike some enormous birds nest that had been tipped upside down. Despite the interior being constructed of a dark rock-like material giving one the impression of being inside a neatly carved cave, the outside was covered in crystal branches, much the same as any of the Beyond tribe’s homes. The haphazard appearance was deceptively strong and clearly proof against the elements. Not that they really had elements here of course, but I hadn’t felt any air flow in her home other than when the door was open. The smoke from the fire still found its way out through the ceiling regardless, and I’d found the hut comfortably light and airy even without windows. Now that was something I didn’t like. Admittedly the windows in my cottage were small, but the building’s orientation was such that it caught the sun’s rays all day long, adding warmth and light to the interior. To have it perpetually lit by lamps such as the homes of the thestrals were, was something I wouldn’t like at all. To a thestral however, it was absolutely perfect.

We carried Lance inside the hut and placed him on the bed where I’d spent my time convalescing under Briar’s care. I could have passed comment about the irony of the situation, but I was more concerned about Shade than coming up with any witticisms right then. The little one was quite at home on Briar’s back, but the way Glimmer was staring at her made my skin tingle. It was difficult to say exactly why. She didn’t look angry, interested, or even disinterested so far as I could tell. No, there was something else there, some sort of hidden emotion in that carefully maintained blank expression that made me feel distinctly uncomfortable. It was as though she were… ‘examining’ her. Meanwhile Briar checked over our injured stallion friend and shook her head, muttering to herself under her breath occasionally. I watched her work with a quiet fascination. There didn’t seem to be any magic at play here, but even so my horn itched faintly, reminding me that there was some form of power being wielded, even if I couldn’t see it directly.

I heard Glimmer move closer, her voice little more than a whisper. “Fairlight?”

“Hmm?”

“What are you doing here?”

I pulled my attention away from Briar and turned to face Glimmer. She was just the same as I remembered her, even without the armour. “I was coming to see you, that’s all. Can’t a fellow call round to see his friend?”

“You came here to see me...” Glimmer closed her eyes and sighed. “You could have written to let me know first, you know. Equestrians aren’t exactly welcome here, Fairlight. It’s a dangerous world for the unwary.”

“I’ve been to the Wither World, Glimmer,” I replied quietly. “How much worse can this realm be?”

“It’s not worse,” the mare replied, “just… different.” She suddenly leaned towards my ear, nearly upsetting the kettle in the process. “Listen here you, I know you’re not here just to see me. There’s something else isn’t there? Something I’m probably not going to like. Am I right?”

A wry smile spread across my face. Rather foolishly I hadn’t really thought all that much about what to say to Glimmer when I finally got to see her. Being so caught up in all the excitement I’d neglected that one, very pertinent, fact. After all, what if she didn’t want the foal? What if thestrals didn’t want to adopt one of these ‘gifts’ from the gods? Briar had already told me that thestrals viewed such children as being ‘different’ from the rest. I mean, look at Shadow for example; there was a mare that was constantly being referred to as ‘incomplete’ all the bloody time, and there was nothing wrong with her! Why the hell did they-

“Fairlight?”

I halted in my mental tracks and closed my eyes. The smell of woodsmoke wreathed my muzzle, the sound of water coming to a boil tickling my ears. All of it was so homely and gentle I wish I could have stayed there in that exact moment, surrounded by a world of peaceful tranquillity. Some hope! I took a deep breath, “Glimmer, I need to ask for your help with something.”

“My help?” Glimmer asked curiously. “With what? What have you got yourself into this time?”

Carefully I reached behind us and scooped up the small, bony, leathery object that chattered and clicked sleepily as I brought her up to sit in my lap. “This is Shade,” I said gently, stroking her mane. “She’s a thestral foal.”

“I can see that,” Glimmer rumbled throatily.

“What gave it away?” I grinned, trying to lighten the atmosphere. “The teeth? The wings? The smell of adorable cuteness?” Glimmer’s eyes narrowed as she stared at the tiny bundle in my lap. I noticed her lips quivering, her muscles twitching. “She’s gorgeous!” I said giving Shade’s tummy a tickle. She squeaked adorably, rolling onto her back and kicking with her slender legs. Glimmer however, said nothing. “Do you want to hold her?” I asked.

“NO!” The black coated mare bristled like a scalded cat, her eyes flaring brightly in the strange light of the hut.

What the hell was wrong with her? I tried again, “Glimmer, she doesn’t bite for goodness sake.”

“I don’t care!” Glimmer hissed threateningly. “Keep it away from me!”

“If the girl does not want to hold the child, do not force her,” Briar said as she worked on Lance, her keen hearing doubtless picking up on everything we were saying.

“Oh, for the goddess’s sake,” I grumbled. My friend’s peculiar reaction was starting to annoy me, but at least Shade didn’t seem to mind. She picked herself up and, after giving me a nuzzle, hopped down onto the floor to face Glimmer. The difference in size was ridiculous, it was like a mouse facing down a cat, but Shade didn’t care. She snorted and blew a whuff of smoke from her nose and ruffled her wings.

“Ack!”

“Demon child...” Glimmer hissed, her lips moving to expose her teeth. “There is no place for your kind here.”

“For Luna’s sake she’s a bloody kid, Glimmer!” I snapped. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“She is one of the dark one’s spawn, you ignorant fool!” Glimmer shot to her hooves. “They are the very incarnation of the evil that has plagued our people since the first days. Give her to me and I will take her outside and do what you should have done, Fairlight.”

“Like hell you are!” Cold rage warred with confusion in my soul, but soaring high above it all was my age old companion, anger. From deep inside my soul, a frozen, bitter fury at the world screamed out at the injustice of it all and how somepony I trusted, somepony I called a friend, wanted to take such a gentle life and snuff it out as if it meant nothing at all. Nothing! I already was on my hooves, my voice low and menacing, “You make a move towards her and I’ll...”

“You’ll what?” Glimmer’s glare shifted from Shade to meet my eyes. “Do you think you can challenge me? Do you have the fire within you to stop me?”

“I will if I have to,” I replied levelly. “I won’t have another child killed before me, Glimmer. I lost my wife and daughter to murderers, and I will be damned if I let another be-”

“Be SILENT!” Both Glimmer and I flinched as Briar’s words boomed around the room shaking dust from the ceiling and walls. “I am trying to treat a patient and you are acting like rutting drakes! Take your bitterness outside, both of you, and do not return until I call you. If I decide to call such fools into my home at all.” I moved to collect Shade but Briar’s burning gaze froze me in my tracks. “Leave her here. Shade has an excuse for her behaviour. As adults, you, do not.”

My anger was doused as effectively as having a bucket of ice water dumped over it. Glimmer too I suspected. Thoroughly chastised the two of us stepped out into the fresh air and cool breeze of the forest where I dropped to my haunches and leaned my back against a tree. Glimmer sat nearby, not with her back to me as I’d half expected, but instead facing me. Her expression was one of utter resignation and I echoed those sentiments completely. We’d both acted foolishly, and Briar was right to throw us out. Neither of us had shown any consideration for either Lance or Shade, despite Briar warning me to not push the issue with Glimmer. She had explained to me about the attitude many of her people harboured towards the ‘gifts’ but I’d ploughed ahead regardless, heedless of her teachings. Now, I had hurt a friend, and worse, had nearly come to blows with her. I hung my head in shame.

“I’m sorry,” I said quietly.

“For what?” Glimmer snorted. “For trying to make me accept the child?”

“No.” I shook my head. “For being wilfully ignorant. For not being understanding or showing you any consideration whatsoever,” I replied. “Briar told me about these so called ‘gift’ foals, and yet all I could think about was… offloading her onto you.”

“Onto me?” Glimmer stared at me in disbelief. “Good gods, Fairlight, you wanted me to adopt that… that foal?”

“I didn’t know what else to do with her,” I confessed pathetically. “We found her in the mortal world and they wanted me to kill her, Glimmer. For Luna’s sake, how can anypony kill a child?”

“Who wanted you to kill her?” Glimmer was sat upright now, giving me her full attention. “I think you had better start at the beginning, Fairlight, because I haven’t got a clue what you’re talking about.”

And so, once more, I found myself explaining the story of how Shade had come to me and how we had arrived in the thestral realm. Throughout it all Glimmer stayed silent, taking it all in until I came to the end of my tale. She leaned back and stared up at the sky.

“I can’t take her in,” she said quietly. “I’m sorry.”

“But why not?” I asked, genuinely perplexed. “She’s such an adorable little thing, and foals are a rarity in your tribe as it is. I thought your people would have been overjoyed to have her.”

Glimmer sighed, “Even if I did want to keep her, foals are born in the Wither World, not here. Gift or no, she cannot stay here.”

“Why not?” I asked.

Movement behind me made us both look round. It was Briar, with Shade trotting along beside her like a well trained puppy. “Because she is alive, Fairlight.” Briar fussed with her mane before facing me, her orange eyes glinting. “The living cannot survive here. If she stays, sooner or later Shade will become one of the dead like the rest of us. She needs to go to the Withers, but as she is one of the gifts, even if you were to take her there the tribes may well complete the task your people asked you to do.”

My ears pricked up. “Take her to the Withers?” I stared down at Shade and into those two deep red fires that gazed back at me full of hope and childish wonder. “Could I do that?”

Briar smiled bitterly, taking a place between us. “I do not know. There may be a way, but what that way could be is shrouded in the mists of the aether. If you had left her in the mortal realm she would have found her own way to the Wither World. By bringing her back to herd with you, you have interrupted that cycle and she has bonded herself to you.”

I reached down and Shade trotted into my outstretched hooves for a cuddle. Damn it all, there had to be something I could do! I couldn’t just let her die, and what was worse was that I had been instrumental in creating this situation myself. If I had left her in the mortal realm as Briar said, she would have eventually found her way to the Withers on her own. I had, no matter how unwittingly, put this tiny life in peril. I closed my eyes and felt that horrible pit of realisation swallow me up. I couldn’t just let her die! I… Hang on... The portal room! If there was some way I could get in there, grab the co-ordinates for the Beyond tribe’s village, then I could get her home! Damn it, it had to be worth a shot, even if Glimmer was doubtful.

“Glimmer, you know that Lady Shadow was one of the gifts, don’t you?” I asked.

Glimmer’s eyes never left Shade, watching her as if she were about to leap at her at any moment.

“Glimmer?”

The black mare snorted and faced me, but never quite took her full attention away from Shade. “Lady Shadow is one of the… ‘gifts’, as you call them.”

“What would you call them?” I asked asininely. “Demons?”

Glimmer snorted irritably, “You don’t understand, you’re not one of the people.”

“Don’t I?” I tried to keep my voice calm, but it was a real struggle. “You helped me to save one of the people from being married off to a real monster. A thestral, I might add, who happened to also be one of these very same ‘demons’ you seem to be so concerned about. What difference is there? Am I missing something here?”

“Lady Shadow is one of the duchess’s daughters,” Glimmer said levelly.

“So she wasn’t a natural child of the duke and duchess.” I nodded my understanding, “But Glimmer, don’t you find it a little hypocritical to call Shade here a demon when Shadow came to your people in the same manner?”

Glimmer said nothing.

Briar came to the rescue, “The ruling families of the tribes command utter obedience, Fairlight. What they say is law, and if they decided to adopt this ‘Lady Shadow’, then the tribe would be compelled to accept her as one of their own.”

“And if not she’d be killed, right?” I could feel that small ball of anger flaring within me once more.

“It is our way,” Briar answered.

“Then I’m sorry to say your ‘way’ is a load of bollocks, Briar!” My fur bristled with my rising sense of injustice of it all. “I’m sorry ladies, but there’s no way in hell I’m going to stand aside while a foal is condemned to death just for the crime of existence.”

“And what do you plan on doing about it then, Lord Fairlight?” Briar asked calmly.

“I’ll tell you what I’m going to do,” I replied. “I’m going to take her home to the Beyond. One way or another, I’ll make them accept her.”

Briar shook her head slowly. “So simple,” she sighed. “But perhaps for you, it truly is.”

“What are talking about?” I asked irritably.

The old thestral chuckled under her breath, shifting her cloak aside as she rose to her hooves. “Come with me. It is time to see whether the mists will reveal their secrets.”

“The mists?” I asked.

Briar smiled. “Come, and you shall see.”

Chapter Ten - The Old Gods

CHAPTER TEN

THE OLD GODS

Innumerable tales abound in the more remote areas of the land where popular stories of heroism, cowardice, sacrifice, love, and revenge, have endured down throughout the ages. Many are merely stories to entertain the listener, others allegories or parables intended to convey a message in a more understandable and palatable context. To a child this may, by way of example, be a cautionary tale to warn of the dangers of entering particular areas where wild beasts dwell, or perhaps engaging in the kinds of behaviours which could cause personal or societal embarrassment. Few adults would pay much heed to such tales, despite the fact that many of them would have grown up with them themselves. In the more urbanised part of Equestria, some of the more enduring stories have been a firm favourite amongst children for hundreds of years. Several have even been made into stage plays or foals compendiums of fairy tales. As much as we may pass these off as whimsy or flights of fancy on behalf of the authors, it would be foolish to assume that all of this ‘country folk wisdom’ as it is more commonly known, has no grounding in historical fact. All stories must originate somewhere, and most carry at least a kernel of truth, be it a personal experience or historical event that has been passed down through word of mouth from generation to generation. Few literary records were made in the more rural communities, with much of what was learned passed down through little more than word of mouth. It is these which I have undertaken to record for posterity, lest they be lost forever to the ages. It will then be up to the reader to determine whether these stories speaking to us from the mists of the past hold any credence or are mere flights of fancy. Whatever the truth of matter we ignore our past at our peril, and should always strive to remember the lessons of our ancestors lest we ourselves repeat the mistakes they made.

Extract from ‘Songs, Ballads and Tales of the Past’ by Stylus Atheneum.

A well worn track lead from the back of the hut up a steady incline to the top of a hill overlooking the forest. The view was unlike anything I had ever seen in Equestria, or the eternal herd for that matter, and was something that would stay with me for the rest of my days. Spread out in all directions were the crystal trees, interspersed with the low black thorny bushes whose wood I had been harvesting only a few short hours earlier. There was no sun here, no heavenly body to illuminate the days and warm the land. But there was still light. The trees themselves washed the eternally black sand with their radiant white luminescence, tinged with all the colours of the rainbow. My fur seemed to sparkle here, the purity of the land washing over me like a cleansing river of divine radiance. I had been to the Wither World, I had walked through their forests, and yet I had never had the time to truly appreciate the magnificence of such an alien landscape. In the thestral realm of the dead their place of repose was a reflection of the world they had come from, and it held such indescribable wonders I began to miss both the land and the friends I had left there: Thorn, Star Beard, Ember… all of them. At the time I had thought the Withers to be no more than a nightmare made real, a manifestation of all the cruelties and horrors the gods could inflict upon a living being. But I had been wrong. For such a strange land of unforgiving violence hiding around every corner, there was an inner beauty to it that truly did strike a chord in my heart. Perhaps more so the herd in some ways.

“Sit.” Briar motioned to a spot beside a large carved black stone bowl.

The bowl was around two feet across, and the only feature on the hill other than a chest of black wood from which she produced a large pitcher, several jars, and a mortar and pestle. Somehow though I doubted we were there for dinner. Glimmer sat in silence opposite me, the bowl between us whilst Shade sat beside Briar. How the old mare managed to keep the little one so quiet was a mystery in itself regardless of the strangeness of the proceedings. In fact she looked as though this were the most natural thing in the world. And that, if nothing else, I found unsettling to say the least. Briar took a stopper out of one of the jars and tipped the contents into the bowl which began to smoulder and spit almost immediately despite the apparent absence of any source of heat. She then uncorked another of the jars and tipped several long white mushrooms onto a plate which she passed to me.

“Take two. Chew, don’t swallow.”

I’d been warned about eating strange fungi when I was a child and was more than aware of the effects they could have on the unwary from the stories Meadow had told me from working in the hospital. Here however it didn’t look like I was being given much of a choice in the matter. I glanced sidelong at Glimmer who had also taken two of the odd things. She didn’t meet my gaze, doing as Briar instructed without saying a word. I took a breath and did the same. The taste wasn’t quite what I’d describe as terrible, but certainly gave a whole new dimension to the word ‘unpleasant’. Shortly, Briar took her place beside the bowl and sprinkled more of the strong smelling resin chunks into it causing them to spit and hiss as they released fragrant clouds of rich blue smoke. The smell was quite pleasant actually, carrying a warm, sweet note to it that reminded me of the incense in the temples I’d frequented with my mother. It was more years ago than I cared to recall now. I closed my eyes and felt my mind and memory begin to drift back to those carefree days of my youth. Mum, the mare who had brought me into this life. Dad, the gruff yet lovable rogue that mum had fallen in love with. I’d loved them both, despite all their faults. Mum had often said that dad had been married to his job more than her, but as a child I hadn’t really understood what she’d meant. If I had, I wonder if I would have been so eager to follow in his hoofsteps? Rather unsurprisingly, mum had been furious when I’d joined up. And dad? Well, dad was just dad wasn’t he. He hadn’t been particularly bothered one way or another. In fact not long after I’d signed on the dotted line for the watch academy, dad had simply up-sticks and disappeared one day, transferring out to another watch station on the other side of Equestria without so much as a backward glance. I never heard from him again. Mum stayed in the family home pretty much the same as she always had, pining after my father right up until the day she passed away. The doctors didn’t know what had caused it. Some said it was a stroke, others a heart attack. The result however, was the same regardless of the cause - I’d had to bury my own mother. As for dad, he’d never even bothered to turn up. Whether it was because he hadn’t been told or just couldn’t be arsed coming to see her off, I don’t truthfully know. He never returned my letters, nor had he made any attempt to contact me either. Over time I put it out of my mind, wanting nothing more than to forget my former life. But it never quite left me; the sense of emptiness in my life, the feeling of loss and the cold realisation that my own father had simply… given up on me. Even in the watch, working as hard as I did I had hoped that he would have come to see me sooner or later. But of course, he didn’t. It was that which hurt the most I think; the fact that my father, my very own father, had cut me out of his life totally. I never even got to say goodbye. Ha! I bet the old fart was still plodding the beat out in wherever he was now. Mum on the other hoof… I don’t know. I hadn’t made any attempt to see her despite Meadow’s cudgelling. One day I would look her up. One day...

I opened my eyes and felt the world lurch sideways. Well, looked like the mushrooms were working alright! But damn it was smoky here. In fact it was so thick it was more like a fog rolling in off the bay, pouring into the streets and covering the world in a muggy haze. Briar and Glimmer, despite being sat only a couple of feet away from me, were wreathed in the smoke to the point where I could barely make them out at all. Although to be honest I think I was more surprised that I wasn’t choking on the damned stuff. My mouth tasted funny too. Those mushrooms had gone now, dissolved or swallowed, the bloody things leaving a taste in my mouth like I’d been dining on rusty nails.

“Briar?” I couldn’t see anything other than the smoke. “Glimmer? Shade?”

Nothing.

Warily I rose to my hooves, trying to get my bearings. Everything was lost in a haze of grey, the strong smell of smoke thick and cloying. Something was burning nearby, I could see the flickering of flames yellow against the smoke. “Hello? Is anypony there?” Cautiously I moved towards the fire. The smoke was so thick now I couldn’t even see the sand beneath my hooves. “Hello?” One of my fore hooves thumped into something on the floor. Something large. My heart thumped in my chest as I leaned down to see what I’d… Oh gods... it was a pony, a deep green coloured pony. Suddenly my heart began to race. This was… it couldn’t be. Not here! I reached for her, trying to take her up in my hooves, but almost as soon as I made contact she simply… vanished. The blue-grey smoke billowed around me, hiding where she’d lain from my sight. Luna’s mercy, I was frantic. I whispered her name into the eye stinging smoke, “Meadow?” Suddenly I could hear laughter. It was faint, but close by. “Meadow!” Phantom figures danced in and out of my vision, darting away when I tried to focus on them, always just on the periphery of my sight. I walked on, but to where I didn’t know. All I knew was that I didn’t want to stay there. I couldn’t stay there. The laughter however, continued, taunting me, deriding me at every step. There were no words, but I could sense the meaning as if it had been held up before me in burning letters ten feet high - I had failed. I was a fool who had lost everything and done nothing to stop it. I could have, but I didn’t. Why hadn’t I? Why?

I began to run. I had to get away from there. I had to escape! The laughter followed me, rising to an almost maniacal screeching that came from… above me? As I ran I looked up, desperate to find the sun, the moon, anything that could help me orientate myself and escape this madness. And there, high above the smoke where light should have been, was the enormous shadowy figure of a mare. Her features were indistinct, her eyes hidden by a cowl of billowing darkness, and in her hooves she held crossed pieces of wood, the strings disappearing down into the smoke below - to the ponies dancing like marionettes to the music of insanity. Meadow, Tingles, Shadow, Lumin, Sparrow - all of them tied to those dread strings, dancing in time to the mare’s laughter. I tried to shout to them, to scream out a warning, but the burning smoke caught my throat and lungs, sending out nothing more than a croaking gasp. I still had to try. I had to make them see! But the strings, the smoke…

I looked down and saw the reason why I couldn’t move. I stared at my hooves, following the taught strings up, up into the grey sky and the blazing eyes of the shadowed mare. A great peal of laughter rang out, shaking my body and my soul as I danced to her music of heavenly madness. I think my own screams must have brought me round. Sweat poured down my face, over my muzzle and dripped onto the dry, black sand. A creature stood over me, black as midnight, eyes ablaze, antlers sprouting from either side of its head silhouetted against the starry night sky. Behind her a lone drum sounded like the heartbeat of the universe. A low chanting, barely perceptible, but one that was in perfect harmony with the beat, filled the air as thickly as the smoke.

“Stand.”

Automatically I did I was commanded.

The smell of burning was strong in my nostrils, my heart beating strong and loud in my ears. But my head… gods above it felt like somepony had stuffed me into a clothes wringer. Any conscious thought however was beyond me at this point. All I was capable of doing now was staring up at the terrible image before me. Waiting. The voice, deep and sonorous, made the very world shake around me, sending vibrations through the ground and up my legs to my chest.

“Through this sacrifice the path is opened. Through this sacrifice the way is known. Through this sacrifice we give our thanks to the gods. Fate, mistress of the eternal mountains of knowledge, grant your servant this vision.” The figure moved towards me and dipped their hoof into a bowl, took it out, and placed it on my head. “Blood of your enemy to strengthen your heart.” The mare’s hoof ran the sticky warm fluid down my muzzle. I opened my mouth and took in a draught of the fluid in the bowl. It was rich, strong, and carried the tang of iron. “Body of your enemy to embolden your courage.” Something hot, spicy, and dripping in juices she placed in my mouth. I chewed it and swallowed. “Bones of the world to remind you of your true mother.” I stood still as the mare sprinkled a grey-white powder over me.

The chanting grew louder and my head began to swim with images from my life: Meadow lying motionless, my friends in the watch butchered by weapons brought in from another world, the warriors of my tribe littering the ground before the glowing silver of the portal to the changeling lands. Face after face stared at me with their motionless, empty eyes. All of them dead. All of them dead because of me. My heart cried out in interminable grief at what I had wrought, whilst above it all, far above the sorrow and the pain, the air resounded with the laughter of the mare playing us all like soulless marionettes as she made us dance to her tune. I saw myself now, lying motionless in a pool of my own entrails while Tingles screamed for help amid the burning ruin of our home. I saw… a string, a line of crimson as deep as blood, pulsing, vanishing off into the smoke. Within me something stirred, opening its eyes and saw the world for the first time. It was confused, unsure of its surroundings. Anger, sadness, and the long buried rage I had thought forgotten began to simmer within it. Within me. It was fury of the purest form. And with it… came hunger. It was hungry. I was hungry. I was suddenly overwhelmed by a burning need for nourishment unlike anything I had ever experienced before in my life. I had been asleep all this time, all these aeons, and now, now, I needed to feed. The void needed to be filled. I could feel my life burst into flame as hot as the sun, my teeth itching and my hide burning. The spirit within me screamed. I screamed. I reached out and grabbed my prey, sinking my teeth into the soft flesh... and drank. Greedily I gulped down the life essence in great draughts, not bothering to taste, not wanted to waste a single moment or a single drop of this most precious of life’s gifts. I was consumed, utterly consumed, taken now by the single minded drive to fill that which had been empty for so, so long. And goddess help me, I was so hungry. So, so hungry…

“Lord Fairlight. Lord of the tribe of the four winds. It is time for you to awake.”

Smoke swirled around me, the thick cloying cloud gradually draining away, replaced by something lighter, something... colder. I stood tall, letting it flow over me, infusing my soul, my body, my skin and my bones. I felt as light as the wind itself, the chill of winter filling my heart once more. It was time to awake. It was time to be who I had always been. Who I had been born to be.

“Fairlight? Come back to us now. Come back to yourself.”

It was hard to let go. I had to, I knew I did, but I missed this so much. I wanted to stay here, here in this place where I was truly myself.

“Fairlight. Come now, come...”

Meadow? No… No, it couldn’t be. They had taken her from me. They’d stolen her life as they’d stolen the life of my unborn daughter. They had left me for dead... and they had paid the price for their folly. The two animals responsible for this act of sickening depravity were little more than puppets, and I had sent them both to Tartarus with my own hooves. But the master… the master of puppets was still free, and even with me gone could pose a threat to my family in the mortal realm. Shadow, Tingles, Lumin… all of them. I had to get out of here. I had to get home and-

“Fairlight!”

I opened my eyes and felt the world lurch drunkenly around me. Oh goddesses, my head! Celestia’s arse, what the hell was happening to me? What had that stupid damned thestral bitch done to me with her blasted concoctions this time? My heart was racing and my head rang like the schoolyard bell. But the anger, the hatred and rage, was still there, and so real, almost physical in its intensity. And I loved it. Gods, I loved it! I stretched my neck out, tasting the air, the tang of iron on my lips and teeth still deliciously present. I yawned, shaking the blood from my coat. It was good. So, so good.

Hang on...

Blood?

I opened my eyes suddenly and looked down at the shattered form of the thestral lying at my hooves. It -he- was drenched in blood. Quite literally, soaked from muzzle tip right down to the very end of his tail. I stared at my hooves in disbelief, watching as a single shining droplet fell to the ground. I couldn’t quite comprehend what I was seeing, and yet… here it was. I was covered in it, standing there as it steamed silently in the cool air: rich, red, sticky… Blood. Gallons and gallons of it, covering me, covering the sand and the still warm body with the teeth marks... Oh no… Oh, no, no, NO!

Glimmer stared at me in barely disguised horror as I span round to face Briar. She too was covered in the blood of the stallion before us, her headdress of antlers dripping with crimson. The knife lying in the bowl, the pitcher, everything… Everything reeked of the vital fluids of the stallion on the ground.

My voice was a bare whisper as I breathed his name, “Lance...”

“He has been sent to shining lands to be reborn,” Briar said calmly. Her eyes twinkled as she stood before me. “He has gifted you his life essence so that his name will be remembered. We will sing of him with the dawn.”

I saw the ragged marks in his neck and the deep knife wound in his chest. His blood covered me, the taste of it still lingering on my tongue. The taste of his life. In that moment of realisation I felt a heady mixture of horror and exhilaration. I was frightened and emboldened, tired yet excited. I was myself, but not myself. I tried to make sense of what was going on and failed spectacularlyt. For some reason however, I just didn’t care.

“He sacrificed himself,” was all I could manage.

“He had failed the rite and would have returned to his tribe in disgrace to work the land as a common labourer,” Briar explained. “To a warrior as proud as Lance, that was something he could not accept, and so he gave himself to me as a sacrifice so that we may commune with the gods. His blood opened the way. His life essence served to nourish your own.” Carefully Briar removed her headdress and with a sigh, sank to her haunches.

I sat down in amazement. Lance… He had given his life, or more specifically, his soul, to me. “Why?” I breathed. “He hated me. I’m an Equestrian. A pony for goodness sake. Why would he give his life to somepony he hated?”

“It is exactly because you were his enemy.” Briar damped down the small concealed fire under the large stone bowl as she spoke, “Forgiveness is not in our nature. To forgive, to show compassion for the fallen or to choose the path of appeasement, is to show weakness that can be exploited by your enemy. By giving his life in this manner he showed that he was stronger than you, and demonstrated his courage before the goddess.”

“But he still gave his life for me.” I shook my head. I still couldn’t fully understand what had just happened. “Did you… did I…?”

“Did you kill him?” Briar smiled. “No. You took his essence as I took his life. It was as he wished. It was his will.”

“You...” I hung my head in shame. I had taken the life essence of this warrior I had only just met. Briar had killed him, stabbing him in the heart, but it was I who had taken who he was. I felt sick inside. I had done something terrible, but not something I had not done before. In battle, lost in the song of war, I felt no qualms about taking the life essence of my enemy. I had slain many, slicing my blade through skin, muscle and bone. I had not thought it too many. I had… I had enjoyed it, rejoiced in it even. Yet now, part of me felt empty and cold - as cold as the dead warrior before me.

“Do not mourn for him, Fairlight.” Briar walked up beside me and stared down at the bloodied corpse. “What he did for you he did as much for himself.”

“It still feels wrong,” I whispered half to myself. I gave myself a shake and tried to shove the confused feelings of jubilation and self loathing aside. “We can’t leave him like this. I want to sing him to his ancestors.”

“Oh?” Briar looked at me in surprise. “So you do know a little of our ways.”

I nodded, “I stood beside your people in battle.” I lifted my head as a surge of pride fizzed through my veins. “I fought with Glimmer, with Thorn and with Shadow. I fought with the tribe that saved my life in the Wither World. I stood with Far Sight and sang as we witnessed his daughter’s passing to the next world.” I tossed my mane and took a breath, remembering the sights of the battlefield and the exhaustion of war. “The Beyond, the Purple Sands and the Broken Cliff tribes are as much my people as the Four Winds.” Briar watched in silence as I lifted the broken body of Lance onto my back. “As they are my brothers and sisters, Lance too is my brother. And I will send him home.”

Briar nodded as a faint smile crossed her lips. The matter was settled. And so, together with Glimmer, the three of us set about the solemn task of building a pyre for Lance in an open area behind the hill. It was peaceful there, and quiet except for the occasional trill of the spectrals. Shade sat nearby, watching us with eyes that gave me the impression of a soul far older than she appeared. She seemed at home here, especially with Briar whom she followed everywhere. I confess I felt a tinge of jealousy at that, and perhaps even… loss. She wasn’t my daughter of course, but I couldn’t help but feel some connection to her even after such a short period of time together. Perhaps it was because I missed my own children, I don’t know. But yeah, I did miss them, all of them: my tribe, my family, and all my friends. I felt alone here in this strange land, even with the kindness shown to me by Glimmer and Briar.

As we worked I pondered the visions I’d had: the puppeteer, the scenes from my past, and the overarching sense of being played that pervaded everything. It didn’t take a detective to understand what my fears centered around, but if I was dead then there was nothing I could do about it now anyway. Was there? Gods, I didn’t know. Star Swirl had told me I still had more of a part to play; something about my ‘destiny’, or some such nonsense. Ha! The old sod just loved being cryptic with his answers. Unfortunately it did bugger all to help me understand what the hell was going. It was as if I was just given pieces of a jigsaw puzzle and expected to fit it all together without knowing what the final picture was. And that was something I didn’t like. But somepony knew, and not just Fate either. Somepony had played me like a cheap fiddle, stolen my family from me and then tried to finish the job by blowing up my home. I may not have been in it when it exploded, but I’d ended up in the herd anyway. And now I was in the thestral realm of the afterlife burning the body of somepony, some thestral, who had given up everything to help me. The madness of it all was mind blowing.

“Those visions,” I said levitating another piece of wood into place. “They were from my own mind, weren’t they?”

“Some.” Briar threw some sort of strong smelling fluid onto the wood. “What is in your heart is the signpost to the loom of Fate. The visions Fate grants are a mixture of your past, present and future.”

“Did you see them too?” I asked.

Briar shook her head. “Only the vision walker who seeks the true path can see them.” She put down the bucket of fluid and helped me carry the corpse of Lance onto the pyre. “To me they would be meaningless. How they are interpreted is unique to the vision walker. Only you can do this.”

Only I could interpret them, eh? I pushed Lance’s tail up onto the pyre, looking at the ruined mess of the stallion. I hope I give your sacrifice honour, my friend, I thought to myself. Not that Lance could hear me now, nor was he by any stretch of the imagination even my friend. This stallion giving his life, or rather ‘after’ life, had been an act of defiance in some respects, but whichever way you looked at it he had still done this for me. I had to respect him for that at least. Could I have done the same if the roles had been reversed? No. Lance came from a very different world to me, and I doubted that I would ever fully understand this strange race. Their language, their customs, their beliefs; all of it was so unfathomable that I was amazed that ponies had ever thought that coming here for a visit was a good idea. And yet if the brochure was anything to go by they clearly had once, probably long before the war with Nightmare Moon and the Legion though. Nowadays you would be hard pressed to find any ponies who remembered they even existed, and those who did were gradually dwindling as one by one they went to the forge for a new life.

Time in the herd meant very little, and the same was true here. Briar passed me the lit torch in silence, and I pushed it into the dry, oil soaked wood. It began to catch almost immediately, and in seconds the pyre was sending flames and embers shooting high up into the sky. I remembered from when we had sung the warriors of the Beyond to the afterlife after the battle in the city, how their brethren had spent the night telling tall tales of the departed’s deeds: laughing, feasting and drinking together to honour their memory with joy rather than sorrow. But for poor Lance, there was little to celebrate. He had never been a fully fledged warrior, and even Glimmer who had been in the same tribe seemed to know little about him. And now, the two mares were looking at me expectantly. I closed my eyes and smiled sadly.

“Lance was a warrior of the Beyond,” I began. “A young warrior, proud and strong. It was his wish to protect the people of his tribe and prove himself in battle. He stood tall and true, and challenged the lord of the wendigo to battle. His strength and power were the stuff of legends as he fought with axe, hoof and teeth. Finally struck down, the lord of the wendigo looked down upon Lance, thinking that he had won, that he had vanquished his foe. But Lance, laughing in the face of death, showed the gods that he was the bravest there that day. He sacrificed himself, giving his life to save the gravely wounded lord so that he would forever remember the brave thestral of the tribe that had challenged him. His enemy would carry that memory for the rest of his days, and know with every breath, with every beat of his heart, that he owed his very existence to a warrior named Lance. For him, for all his tribe, I remember him.”

“We remember him.”

Briar began the song. I didn’t know the words, but the meaning the ululating chords conveyed spoke louder than any language could ever convey. It was the same as I remembered from when Shadow’s sister had been slain by the lake monster. Starting low, the song thrummed through the ground, reverberating around the forest. A flock of white spectrals took flight and flew over us, swooping around the rising sparks and adding their own music to the song. The sounds grew louder, growing in intensity until they rose to a cry to which I added my own. The three of us sang, and the fire burned. It was the end of Lance’s journey through life, through the afterlife, to wherever their souls eventually went. For me, it signalled the end of a chapter, and the beginning of a journey which would take me to complete what I should have finished long ago.

The puppet had finally cut his strings.

********************

Glimmer set out food for us and poured the drinks while Briar fussed with an array of blankets and cushions. The firelight from the still burning pyre played across our bodies, sending out ominous shadows into the surrounding forest. To the thestrals this was a time of joy and celebration. Here they remembered the dead and praised the gods. Here they saw death as something to be embraced, the metaphorical first page in a fresh book. For Lance, it certainly was.

“Briar?”

She didn’t look up from her latest cushion plumping. “Hmm?”

“What happens to the souls who pass from here if there are no new lives to be born into?”

The old mare stopped what she was doing and glanced up at me. “Do you always ask so many questions?”

I suddenly felt like a bucket of water had been thrown over me. I was overstepping the mark here, and Briar knew it. “I’m sorry,” I said with a bob of my head. “I used to be a watchstallion, and my inquisitive nature can get the better of me at times. Please, forgive my impoliteness.”

Briar sighed, “I do not blame you for being inquisitive, Lord Fairlight. It…” She closed her eyes for a moment, lost in thought. “It is simply a topic we do not like to discuss. It is… uncomfortable.”

“I understand,” I acknowledged.

The black mare shook her head, “No. But then I doubt anyone truly does.” She gave her wings a shake and turned her head to stare at the pyre. “They go to the shining lands.”

“The shining lands?”

“It is a place of peace,” she explained. “A place of infinite light, warmth, and rest. It is where we go to sleep until we are reborn.” She raised an eyebrow at me, “You understand why a thestral would find such a place… troubling?”

“For a race of warriors?” I nodded. “Yes.”

“Hah! Not all of us fear a good rest from the troubles of life, Lord Fairlight.” Briar moved closer, her voice kept low to avoid being overheard by Glimmer who was putting the final touches to our meal. “Some believe we are reborn as... Equestrians.”

Briar gave me a wink and returned to her cushion plumping.

“You’re having me on!” I hissed.

“Am I?” Briar shrugged. “The gods have their ways, Lord Fairlight, and who are we to know their minds?”

I felt a shiver run down my spine. “Why have you started calling me Lord Fairlight all of a sudden? I’m just a pony, Briar, and-”

“Hush!” The mare snorted out a whuff of sulphurous smoke from her muzzle, stopping me in my tracks. “If you have time for questions then you have time for work. Go inside and bring us my smoking set. Tobacco and pipes for all three of us.” She waved a hoof towards her hut, “Go. Now!”

Still covered in dried blood, my coat reeking of the strange smoke and the tang of iron in my mouth, I did as I was commanded. The path down to the hut took me between the brightly glowing trees where a light breeze played through the crystalline branches, tickling the hairs on my muzzle. It was, quite literally I suppose, like the proverbial breath of fresh air. I rounded the corner of the hut and nosed my way into the interior. What an odd place it was! Peculiar items, arranged no doubt to some particular whim of the owner, lined the walls along with Briar’s jars, ointments, and the ever present bleached bones of ‘things’ I would have preferred not to have seen. Still, it was a damned sight better than bumping into them when they had been alive and kicking. What with the dragon skull hanging from the ceiling, the teeth on strings hanging from the ends of the shelves, it could have been any witch’s home from Equestria. Good gods, it could have even been my aunts home! I chuckled to myself and collected the humidor from the shelf where I remembered Briar had kept it when I’d first partaken of her fine tobacco. I lifted the lid and sniffed at the contents, inhaling the wonderfully enticing aroma. It was not that dissimilar to tobacco I’d had back home in Equestria, but it was just as good as any of the finest blends I’d tried.

I reached for the tinder box and stopped myself. It was a bit pointless when I could magic up a small flame easily enough, so I put it back, catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror. There I was, still the same old grey, if stained red at the moment of course, but the brown eyes were just the same as- I froze and quickly looked back. For a moment, just a brief flicker of time, I thought I’d seen a hint of blue. Ice blue. I leaned forward, turning my head this way and that. No, it must have been the reflection of the walls playing tricks on my reflection. Hah! For a moment there… yeah… Funny, it wasn’t that long ago I’d hated the blue of my eyes that I’d essentially ‘contracted’ along with the spirit in the Wither World. And who could forget how ponies would run in terror at that unnerving and ethereal inner glow? Now… I kinda missed it in a way. And that was the point wasn’t it? I missed being… ‘me’ I suppose. I sighed and reached up to the pipe rack. There were any number of the things, and there were no two alike either. It seemed that our Briar had a touch of the collector about her, as each pipe was made of a noticeably different material, showcasing the various products the darklands had to offer. One looked like it was made of stone, one of the black wood, one of crystal, one of… something I didn’t know. I took a selection and dropped them into my repaired pannier. If the miserable old bugger didn’t like the ones I’d picked then tough! Giving my stiffened mane a fruitless shake I trotted back out and up to hill to join the others.

Glimmer gave me a smile as she poured out a drink for me. I smiled back in kind. The cushions, now plumped to perfection, were firm but comfortable, and the balta just the way I remembered it too. It certainly would have done fine service as paint stripper back in Equestria, but here it was a pleasant beverage shared with friends. One day I would have to bring some back to my home, but the glands of the lake monsters it was apparently distilled from would prove a little difficult to acquire I think. It was probably best not to think too much about that really, especially as I was well into my second cup of the sticky spirit. Beside me Glimmer picked up a peculiar string instrument that had appeared from somewhere whilst I had been away, and began tuning it as I lounged back on my cushion peering into the burning pyre. The wood snapped and popped, the smoke vanishing up into the near black sky. Beside me and yet all around me, a gentle singing began. It was a thestral song, full of the mystery of these creatures and their land. I couldn’t understand the words, nor could I even begin to emulate them without sounding like I had some horrendous throat infection, but the sounds… gods above they were so… soothing. Was that the right word? I snuggled into my cushion and took another sip of the balta. Yes. ‘Soothing’ was right. The clicks, squawks and shrieks that I had come to associate with the thestral tongue really did have a side to them that leaned towards the poetic and, dare I say it, romantic? I leaned over and watched Glimmer as she sang. Beside me, Briar sat with the sleepy form of Shade, her now perpetual companion. Despite my tinge of jealousy they seemed right together somehow. I nodded to myself and yawned expansively.

“Tired?” Briar asked.

“A little,” I confessed. I lifted my cup, nodding towards the pyre. “Fine drink, fine company, and a good farewell to a brave warrior.”

“A good farewell,” Briar nodded with a faint smile across her lips.

“What’s the song about?” I asked.

Briar shrugged and took a long sip of her own drink. “It is about a warrior who falls in battle leaving a loved one behind.” She chuckled slightly under her breath, “It’s a familiar story that has been told in many lands down throughout the ages. The names change, the places too, but the meaning is always the same.”

“A sad tale of loss,” I said quietly. “Odd how such music can convey a picture of beautiful serenity in the face of losing one you love.”

“It is one way we make sense of our grief,” Briar said softly. “This is how the girl shows hers.”

My heart skipped a beat and I sat up suddenly. Glimmer and Lance… surely not? She’d never mentioned him before, but neither had I asked! Oh goddesses, and I’d killed him! Well, not really, but as good as. Oh no, damn it! I had to-

“Lord Fairlight,” Briar’s hoof pushed me firmly but gently back down. “You are not one of us. You are a friend of our people, true, but there are aspects to our people that cannot be understood by those from… outside.” She closed her eyes and nodded to herself as though affirming something that only she could see. “Glimmer knows what happened. She understands, and she accepts it. Honour her, and Lance, by treating her with the same respect you show me. Do not pity her, and do not show sorrow. If you do, she will lose all respect she has for you. Do you understand?”

I stared at Glimmer, listening to her song as the notes washed over me. Here I was, sitting covered still in her stallion’s blood, and I was acting as though this was nothing more than a pleasant social evening around the campfire with friends! It was so wrong, and yet what Briar said made so much sense too. She was right about one thing: I didn’t understand thestrals. I may have some friends amongst them certainly, but I didn’t truly understand their culture nor their customs. I valued Glimmer as a family friend, as the mare who had saved my life, and to see her here singing for her lost love was heartbreaking. I felt a terrible sense of guilt, but is this how she would want me to be? I think she’d known what Lance was going to do, or at least had a good idea. We had sung his soul to the shining lands and were singing and drinking together as thestral warriors did when they lost one of their own. Perhaps, as insane as this would appear to many ponies, this celebration of who the departed was rather than mourning them made more sense than the way Equestrians dealt with loss. I looked at Briar and nodded my understanding to her. Smiling, she clopped me on the shoulder and passed me the tobacco.

“When we are finished we shall go to the lava pools to wash,” she said, taking her own pipe. “The waters there are heated by the volcanic lakes far below the land where the ancients lie. It is there we will cleanse the sadness and grief away to be reborn anew so we may face the future with pride and confidence.”

I could understand that. Volcanic lakes heating the water sounded like the hot springs behind the Wyvern’s Tail, and that was something I could certainly look forward to. I probably looked a fright, and as I was still covered in Lance, there was no way in hell I was going to bed tonight until I had scrubbed everything off. Still, one thing she said intrigued me. “Ancients?” I asked. “Who are they?”

“Dragons,” Briar shrugged. “Ones who have tired of the mountains and simply wish only to sleep.”

“They don’t go in for reincarnation then?” I opined.

Briar sighed and took a sip of her drink. “Who can say? The minds of dragons are as tightly locked as a ball of steel. Some leave to be reincarnated whereas others take their horde into the bowels of the land to guard it until the sky giants walk the black sands to battle the gods at the end of time.”

“The end of time,” I whispered to myself. “Ragnarok.”

“That is one word for it,” Briar agreed with shiver. “But now is not the time for such melancholy. Now, another drink is called for I believe.”

The balta flowed like black wine as the three of us sang, danced, and drank the night away. I even got to give a rendition of three little maids which Glimmer found hilarious, whilst Briar only looked confused at my pretending to be an innocent school girl. Still, I caught a glimpse of her hiding a smirk behind a convenient wing when I reached the chorus. But as all things come to a close, so did the evening, and the three of us, plus one sleepy little foal, walked down the other side of the hill to the steaming rocks and the promised pools of hot water. Some of which I may add were near scalding. Thankfully yours truly had the cooler pool which was also, judging by the small splashing thing beside me, suitable for foals. This particular turn of events wasn’t missed by Glimmer who smirked at me the way only a thestral could.

“You know, sweet flanks...” The mare blew out a whuff of smoke as she leaned on one of the rocks dividing the pools. “I have no mate now. I may even be tempted by one who can only tolerate lukewarm water.”

I wasn’t sure what to make of that statement. Lance was a still warm pile of ash and blackened bones, and already Glimmer was making a move on me. I didn’t know enough about thestrals to assess whether this was normal or not, so I erred on the side of caution. “I’m sure you’ll have the pick of the warriors back home,” I suggested with a smile. “They’ll be falling over themselves for a fine mare like you.”

“A fine mare...” Glimmer sighed. “Is that how you see me? A fine mare?”

I nodded, scrubbing my now soaked mane to try and wash away the remains of her late partner. “Of course. We’re friends, Glimmer. Meadow, Sparrow, Shadow and I, care a lot about you.”

Glimmer shrugged slightly and turned over onto her back, her lower half wreathed in the steamy water. “A fine mare...”

Something was troubling her, but exactly what I didn’t know. There was a sadness to her tonight, and not one that had anything to do with Lance either. His death didn’t seem to trouble her in the slightest, which I found strange in itself. But perhaps that really was normal for one of these enigmatic creatures. Still, It wasn’t a comforting thought. I mentally changed the subject by returning to cleaning my coat. The soap Briar had given me lathered wonderfully, and I soon felt myself becoming reinvigorated by the mineral rich water which soaked into my coat and warmed my skin.

Glimmer stared off into the steam, her eyes distant. “Fairlight?”

“Hmm?”

“I-” she began.

Suddenly something small, black, and decidedly leathery, hurtled into Glimmer’s vision.

“Ack!”

“Agh!” Glimmer thrashed in the water, trying to move away, but the foal was on her in a heartbeat, clicking and squeaking.

“Fairlight, get it off me!” Glimmer gasped.

“Keep her out of the water!” I shouted desperately, pulling myself out of the cooler pool. “It’s boiling in there for her!”

“For the goddess’s sake, get this thing off me!”

I concentrated my magic and enfolded Shade in a glowing blue bubble of energy where she happily rocked back and forth, clicking and chuckling to herself. Breathing a sigh of relief I floated the mischievous pest back to my pool and let out a groan. “Come on, love. Settle down and let’s get you clean, eh?” Shade was hardly dirty, but I took up the sponge and began to wash her anyway. Luna’s ears, it was like washing a leathery bag of bones that was wriggling in every direction at once! Now as a parent I suppose I should have washed her before myself, but Shade was pretty much clean already, and I felt fully justified in spending a bit of time on myself for once. I just wish I didn’t feel so bloody guilty about it. “Will you hold still? Honestly!”

“Eeak! Whurp!”

Gods, those noises were absolutely adorable! “Ooh! Come here you.” Shade slipped out of my grasp momentarily, but I was able to catch her in a laughing, soapy, embrace. “Grrr! I gotcha!”

“EEEK!”

Shade’s laughing, giggling shrieks made me burst out laughing. There was something infectious about her that sent a warm feeling into my heart. She was so small, so delicate, and carried with her an innocence that was totally at odds with the horror of how she had been born into the world. Briar was right: she was a gift of the gods, a tiny life born from what been nothing but suffering and pain - misery washed away in the light of a child’s innocence. I looked into her burning red eyes, those burning flames of joy and youthful energy. Despite her alien appearance she reminded me so much of Lumin and Sparrow that my chest burned with the emotions surging through me. Lately I had been an emotional wreck, what with my marital problems with Meadow, my confusion, and overall state of distress. Now though, here in the warm pools with a soapy and squeaking Shade, I felt strangely at home. I sure as hell was no thestral, but there was something about this land that called to the wendigo part of me. I’m not sure the word ‘relaxed’ would be particularly accurate as this place was full of things that could devour me in one gulp. But still…

“Doesn’t that bother you?”

I looked up at Glimmer briefly, “What?”

The mare frowned, “That… that foal.”

A carefully aimed stream of water sluiced the suds off Shade’s body. I was careful to keep it from her eyes and muzzle, preferring to use the cloth Briar had given me to clean that part of her. I’d have to give her mane a good comb while it was still wet which should help with any tangles too.

“Fairlight?”

I paused. Shade looked up at me curiously with her head on one side, listening to me. I leaned down and kissed her on the forehead which elicited a squeak of happiness. “No,” I said quietly. “She doesn’t bother me. She doesn’t bother me at all.”

“She’s not your foal,” Glimmer said, glancing over her shoulder at Briar who was still washing her her mane. “That’s what they do. They… They slip into your home in the dead of night. They use their unnatural magic to tie a knot in your heart so you believe them to be your own. So you… So you would fight to the death to defend them.” She gave herself a shake and looked at me directly. “Can’t you see that?”

“So you think she’s some kind of demon?” I barked out a laugh.

“This is nothing to laugh about,” Glimmer hissed.

I floated Shade up and poured water over her tummy, making sure all the soap was off. “Do you know how many times I’ve been called a demon, Glimmer?” Carefully, I placed the happy Shade onto a wide flat rock. “Do you have any idea how much that cut me?” I looked round at her with a raised eyebrow. “Or how thestrals appear to equestrians?”

Glimmer shook her mane. “You’re not listening!” She huffed out a mist of smoke and water vapour. “She’s taken you in, Fairlight. Oh, she may look innocent, but the child knows exactly she’s doing. That was-”

“Glimmer, I’ve heard enough!” I snapped angrily. I turned to face her, placing my fore hooves on the rocks between us. “I know she’s not my daughter and I know exactly how she came into being as I was bloody well there, remember?” I gritted my teeth, forcing the building sense of outrage down into the depths of my soul. “I’m no fool, Glimmer, and Shade is a child - no more, no less.” I fixed her with a gaze that brooked no nonsense. “I don’t give a damn what your idiotic legends say about ‘gifts’ or whatever you want to bloody well call them. They are children, Glimmer. Children that your own people are crying out for and you treat them like some sort of damned parasite!” Without thinking I scooped up the damp foal and held her between us. “Look at her! She’s a thestral just like you. She’s a thestral child for Luna’s sake!”

“Urrp!”

“Why don’t you hold her?” I offered. “Just once, Glimmer. You’ll see for yourself that-”

“NO!”

I stared into Glimmer’s eyes as I held Shade. The thestral mare was my friend, the fearless warrior who had died saving my hide in the white city of the Wither World. She had sacrificed everything to protect a pony she didn’t know. I’d tried so hard to understand her, but now... I didn’t like what I saw. I turned away. “Then do not,” I said flatly.

Water poured off my back as I hauled myself from the soothingly warm confines of the pool. With my souring mood, the once delicious feel of the water against my hide now felt bitterly uncomfortable. Fortunately several large towels had been left warming on the rocks and I began to dry Shade, my back kept firmly to Glimmer. It wasn’t my intention to hurt her, but right then I couldn’t bare to see her. I was sick of superstition. I was tired of foolish and ill informed ‘opinions’ from those who could not see beyond the end of their muzzle. Behind me I heard Briar speaking to her, but I paid it no heed. Right then, Shade needed me.

********************

We finished our bathing in near silence. Other than for Shade’s repeated attempts to dive back into the pool after I’d only just dried her off, the only sound to be heard had been the sharp clopping of hooves on rock and the occasional snort. The atmosphere was uncomfortable to say the least, but finally we finished up, packed the last of our things, and headed back to the hut. Shade, not unsurprisingly, preferred to hop up onto Briar’s back and I was left to head the solemn group along the track, avoiding the hilltop where the occasional wisp of smoke could still be seen floating up to vanish in the unseen breeze over the forest. Walking there at the head of our silent quartet felt extraordinarily lonely, especially with only my own thoughts for company - and that was something I wouldn’t have wished on my worst enemy. I had always been prone to introspection, not to mention self doubt and the good old standby of ‘putting myself down’ as Meadow liked to intone on a regular basis. Sure, I did have problems adjusting to the afterlife, but I was getting better, right? All those courses, the doctors visits, the days out with the in laws? Oh yeah, that had really helped hadn’t it! I suppose I did feel a bit more like my old self today, at least compared to how I’d been recently, but I still wasn’t fully ‘me’ any more. As much as I hated to admit it, the wendigo was a part of the whole that made up the hopeless emotional mess called Fairlight. Missing that part meant I was, to use the words of Star Beard: ‘incomplete’. Ha! That still didn’t make any sense to me, and I guess it never would. Perhaps there simply wasn’t any sense to be made of it in the first place; a question that had no answer. Or an answer to a question that had never been asked. I shrugged to myself and sighed aloud. I was so sick of not being able to do something, let alone move forward with my afterlife. I had spent years being toyed with by others and I sure as hell didn’t want to let that happen again. I simply couldn’t. Not if I wanted to keep what was left of my already fragile sanity at least. Part of my subconscious was warning me about something, but as usual I was so wrapped up in my own self absorption that I paid it no heed until I heard the snap of a branch. Now, I was fully alert. A little too late unfortunately as it turned out.

“Glimmer?” A male thestral’s voice called out from the forest, followed by the appearance of several armoured warriors. “The trial time is past and you have not returned.” The lead stallion walked up to us, his gaze upon me announcing loud and clear his opinion of my presence. “Who is this?”

Glimmer opened her mouth to speak... and then froze. Before us, striding out from between the thestrals, was something I never expected to see here. It was a pony. He was a fairly plain looking fellow: a unicorn, grey in colour, with yellow eyes and a black mane and tail. The cutie mark of three snowflakes intertwined on his flank was almost unnecessary. I knew what he was before he’d even opened his mouth.

The muscular grey unicorn walked right up to me, radiating superiority like a hungry dragon over a field of cattle. “Who are you?” he asked. “Celestian?”

My mane bristled at his attitude, but I held my ground. We had a foal here and I couldn’t afford to have these guys rampaging around us just because I’d said something to ruffle their feathers. Not that they actually had any feathers of course, but you get the idea. “My name is Fairlight,” I replied levelly. “I am of the Four Winds tribe. And who, pray, are you?”

“I am Herath,” the stallion announced, raising his head proudly. “Of the Four Winds.” He narrowed his eyes as he stared at me. “I do not remember you. And your name is not one I have heard spoken by any of our people.”

“I only came to the herd recently,” I replied calmly. “I inherited my tribal position.”

Herath raised an eyebrow. “Did you?” he replied quietly. He seemed wary of me, but there was mistaking his doubt at my assertion. “You do not have the eyes of one of us. Can you explain this?”

“I can,” I said politely, “but is this really the time and place for such a discussion, Herath?”

The stallion looked taken aback, but held his peace and merely nodded, “You will come with us. Glimmer, you will return to the Beyond’s holdings and explain to the lord how the trial faired with Lance.” He looked around, apparently expecting Lance to appear at any moment. “Where is he?”

“Lance is dead,” Glimmer replied. She tossed her mane keeping her voice remarkably neutral. “He failed the trial.”

“A shame,” Herath acknowledged with a bob of his head, “but thus are the threads of Fate woven in her tapestry.” He paused for a moment before announcing, “You shall both accompany us.”

I glanced surreptitiously behind us, but Shade and Briar where nowhere to be seen. I’ll confess I was initially alarmed by their disappearance, but quickly felt a sense of overwhelming relief wash over me. I didn’t know what these guys had in store for us, for good or ill. Whatever it was, at least Shade and Briar were out of the way. Funny how she’d been able to disappear like that though. Perhaps she’d sensed something we hadn’t? Not that it mattered now anyway, with all that armour and weaponry, Herath and his goons would take us apart in a heartbeat if we tried to escape. What I couldn’t help wondering however was why a wendigo was here with the thestrals, and not only that, but in charge too apparently. Very odd indeed. Naturally I knew the thestrals had been allies in the war, and also that some thestrals saw them as being nigh on deities if the way I’d been treated in the Beyond had been anything to go by. At least, that was after they’d seen me in my wendigo form. Now, I, like Herath himself, was nothing more than a regular old unicorn. I certainly didn’t like the term ‘Celestian’ though. I knew damned well what he was referring to, and as much as I may have had some dealings with the plump-rumped matriarch of Equestria, I was no fan of hers by any stretch of the imagination. Whether Herath would believe that was another matter altogether, and a subject I intended to avoid if at all possible. No, the best thing I could do here was show no fear nor hesitation, and play along with the guys and see what Fate had in store for me. So, with Glimmer beside me, we followed the party out of the forest and onto the road.

“Glimmer? Who are these guys?” I asked quietly as we trotted along.

The black coated mare shook her head, keeping a wary eye on the rest of our ‘hosts’. “They are part of the lord’s retinue.”

“But he’s a wendigo,” I replied. “You never mentioned them before. Are there many here?”

Glimmer huffed under her breath, “Will you stop asking questions!” She glanced ahead of us. “Damn it, Fairlight, I’ve been trying to tell you. You’re-”

“Be silent!” one of the guards snapped. “We are in manticore territory you fools. We do not have time to be fighting them now.”

“If you say so,” I beamed.

The guard looked less than impressed, snorting out a blast of sulphurous smoke from his nostrils in a display that klaxoned his opinion of ponies. He returned his attention to our front, leaving me to my own silent ruminations. What a bloody misery! Still, he did have a point. Unarmed and unarmoured I was hardly a force to be reckoned with, and would more than likely be the first thing a hungry manticore would target out here. Silence was indeed golden, and if it kept me in one piece then I would play along with these guys for a while like a good little sheep. Glimmer’s reaction was interesting though. She hadn’t said much, but I had the distinct impression she knew full well who these characters were, and also where they were taking us. Whatever else Glimmer had been going to say before the guard cut her off would have to keep until later. Right now, like me, she was keeping her mouth well and truly shut. She seemed a little cowed by this Herath character and his pals. In retrospect I suppose I should have paid more attention to her body language, but truth be told I was actually looking forward to meeting the ‘Lord of the Beyond’, whoever that may be. Back in Wither World I hadn’t exactly seen eye to eye with the upper echelons of thestral society at first, and had come within a hair’s breadth of having my head separated from my body. The duchess, goddess bless her, hadn’t appreciated my ‘involvement’ with Shadow it seemed. Not particularly because I was a pony I suspected, but more down to the fact she had already bargained her off to the hulking lord of the Purple Sands tribe - a minotaur of all things! I guess it wasn’t the strangest pairing out there, but the guy was a raving psychopath and I’d been forced to show him the error of his ways at the point of a sword. If I concentrated I could still see the look in his eyes as my blade cleaved him in twain. Like father, like son... The worst part of it was that I hadn’t thought twice about doing it. As time passed I began to feel less and less ‘emotional’ about fighting. Whether that was down to the wendigo within me or something else, something more ‘primal’, I didn’t know. All I can say is that I did what I had to do. Leaving that murderer in charge of the Purple Sands would have continued the bloodshed until there was nopony left. And as for that rat’s cloak… Gods, I still had nightmares about it. I could see the faded cutie marks, the ancient blood stains, the gloating look on the foul monster’s face as he made sure I’d seen it too. It was, after all, him or me. If I hadn’t done what I’d had to do there would have been another addition to that foul garment. I only wish I’d made a cloak out of his damned hide and used it as my own banner. Instead, the Purple Sands were now allied with the Beyond, and with Ember as the duchess of the Broken Cliff tribe, the power of the three combined was considerable. Goddess, how I missed them all. I missed Shadow. I missed her so much my heart ached whenever I saw Glimmer’s glowing eyes and her swaying hips. Bony thestrals may be, but there was something in that sleek lithe look that grabbed at the primal part of me and made my teeth itch something crazy. Subconsciously I ran my tongue along them. They felt a little unusual today, and they had definitely been feeling a touch itchy for some reason. Oh hell! When was the last time I’d brushed them? I groaned inwardly and slogged onward, my hooves clopping along that long sandy road to only the gods knew where.

Our long march took us further and further into the dark lands of the thestrals. With every step memories of the Wither World assailed me. Memories I’d thought long forgotten, or at least long buried, seeped up from those fathomless depths - both the good, and the bad. We followed the road past seemingly endless forests, watched dragons cavorting high overhead, and stopped by lakes where the inky black waters churned. There we refilled our water skins. On the subject of skins, I caught a glimpse of a sickly white skinned creature sliding just below the surface that the thestrals either hadn’t seen or else merely ignored. Personally the thing had my hackles up in an instant. I recognised the creature immediately; it was one of the lake demons that had taken Shadow’s sister. Those damnable beasts of the depths could strike like lightning, snuffing out a life in a heartbeat. I sure as hell didn’t want to be anywhere near the shoreline when those monsters were around, but for some reason the thestrals didn’t pay it any mind. Part of me itched to speak out, but the other part, the part that had a sick sense of curiosity, wanted to see what they would do if the lake monster decided it was hungry. That unasked question however, was about to be answered. The crunch of hooves through the black sand of the shoreline drew my attention.

“Something is troubling you?” Herath asked.

I shook my head and took a swig of water from my canteen. “No,” I replied politely.

The grey stallion glanced back at the lake. “You have seen the Slaethe before?”

“Slaethe?” I frowned in thought. “You mean the lake demon?”

“To the ignorant or the superstitious, the name ‘lake demon’ is appropriate,” Herath replied coolly. “There are few left in Equestria now. Those that remain inhabit the mountain lakes and underground pools where once they were farmed for their glands.”

“Balta,” I nodded. “Squeezed glands never tasted so good.”

Herath snorted. Whether it was his version of an ironic laugh or simply derision was unknown. “How came you by one of the Slaethe?” he asked. “You appear unconcerned by thestrals and even have one as your companion. For one who has lived with Celestians, you have either no sense of danger, or...”

“Or?” I asked.

“Or you have been here before.” Herath raised an eyebrow. “However, I doubt that. If you had been here before I would have known. No… No, I think you have been to the Wither World. Yes?”

I nodded, “I’ve been there.”

“Is this how you came by your spirit companion?” he asked.

I took a deep breath and tried to make myself relax, but there was an edge to Herath’s tone of voice that I didn’t like. He’d shown no interest in me at first, and yet now he wanted to be friendly? Alarm bells were clanging in my mind, but if I was careful I might just be able to find out more from him than he did from me. I’d keep it short and sweet. “I had a near death experience and found myself in the Wither World,” I explained. “I met the spirit there, and later he bonded with me.”

“But you do not have the colouring of the tribe?” Herath seemed perplexed, but pressed on. “You do not have the yellow eyes of our people.”

“My mother was...” I closed my eyes, remembering my mother and her deep yellow eyes that had always made me feel so safe and comforted when I was growing up. We hadn’t been as close as some families I’d known, especially not with my father, but I still loved them even with all their faults. Even now. “My mother was a descendant of the four winds tribe,” I said honestly. “My father was a normal unicorn.”

“A half breed.” Herath’s bottom lip jutted out in thought. “You have the look about you.”

I had the impression he wasn’t so much trying to goad me as simply being painfully blunt. “It never stopped me from changing into a wendigo,” I replied with a hint of smugness. “The spirit joined with me just the same as any of my ancestors.”

Herath’s eye twitched. It was only for an instant, but it was there alright. So, a hint of injured pride there was there? Apparently I wasn’t ‘pure’ enough for him. Well, there was another name for what he was, but I wasn’t going to provoke him by pointing it out. Not now.

“And where did you bond with the spirit?” Herath asked. “In the Wither World itself?”

“Initially.” I leaned back and yawned, acting as though this little pantomime was tiresome. My hearing however was as keen as ever and easily picked up on the hint of urgency in his voice. “I bonded fully over time,” I explained, “after I had visited the chamber in the fortress.”

“The fortress?” Herath’s voice nearly cracked. “How came you by the fortress? It was destroyed long ago during the great war. All inside was buried by ice, rock, and the magic of the white witch.”

“Oh, there’s a way in,” I said nodding my head. “I found my way there more by chance than anything else. The mountains are guarded by the magic of the princess. As for the rest, well, it just… kinda happened.”

Herath’s ears pricked up and he licked his lips as though eyeing a delicious morsel just waiting to be devoured. “Did you perform the rite of bonding?” he asked. “Do you have the memories of the ancestors?”

“The rite of bonding?” I shrugged. “The spirit took charge of that side of things.” And raped Tingles in the process too, the thrice cursed thing. Even the merest thought of it would normally throw me into a pit of self loathing and despair that this time I narrowly managed plunging into. I looked up at Herath and tried to keep the anger from my voice. “I didn’t have much say in the matter as it turned out. And yes, the memories of our people helped to guide me on my journey. I take it this is normal?”

“Normal?” Herath plopped himself down on his haunches and began to stare off into the distance.

“And what about you, Herath?” I asked. “Were you there when the fortress fell?”

Herath sat up suddenly, blinked, and turned to face me with a look of surprise on his face. “You know how to access the fortress?”

Damn it, I didn’t like the way this conversation was heading at all! “As I said, I came across it by accident,” I told him. “I only managed to survive by the skin of my teeth after being buried under an avalanche. It is not the kind of place to go unprepared. Or even if you are prepared for that matter.” I took a swig of water and wiped my muzzle on the back of my foreleg. “Only the suicidal would go there now, Herath. The fortress is a place of death and despair where only the ghosts of the lost reside.”

The a long pause before Herath closed his eyes. “We are ghosts,” he breathed. Slowly, he stood up and gazed back at the lake. “The white witch made us what we are now.” The stallion began to walk away. “We are the dead. We are no more than memories, forgotten and buried long ago.”

And on that cheery thought I topped up my canteen and pushed the stopper in firmly. What a little ray of sunshine Herath was. ‘We are the dead’. Ha! I suppose he was right of course, but as there was bugger all he or I could do about it there was no sense in moping around for all eternity. It was far better to imagine yourself up a nice house, a pretty garden, and just get on with it. Yearning for what was lost was a sure fire way to get yourself a comfy padded room in the local nut house. And yet even with a nice house surrounded by a pretty garden I still felt that keen sense of loss deep down inside. It was a hole in my sense of self that even the love of my beautiful wife and family could not fill. No matter how much I wished they could.

Unaware of our morose conversation, Glimmer was sitting with the other thestrals around a small campfire, although she seemed more than a little uncomfortable with them if her body language was any indication. Every so often I saw her leg move, her hoof twitching towards her back where her crossbow and axe normally sat. But it was the other little things I saw too: the flick of her tail, the toss of her mane and the odd snort. All of it spoke of her discomfort despite her laughing with the others at some amusing tale or anecdote. Whether her companions were aware of it however, they certainly weren’t letting on. Meanwhile my own ‘visitor’, Herath, was as quiet as the ghosts he believed his, or rather ‘our’ people were. I tried to lighten the mood a little with a change of subject.

“I believe a group of wendigo entered the herd recently from the northern equestrian mountains. Have any of them been through here?” I asked.

Herath took a deep breath and fixed the sand between us with a withering stare. “Some. Others have... ‘regressed’.”

“Regressed?” I asked, “What’s that then?”

“You don’t know?” Herath barked out a laugh, his humour fading almost as quickly as it had arrived. He closed his eyes and shook his head sorrowfully. “No, I suppose you wouldn’t, would you? You are a half-breed. A mongrel. You could never understand.”

“Try me,” I replied biting back the reply I really wanted to give. Half-breed?!

Herath grimaced as he spoke. “They are the ones who gave up the ways of our people and reverted back to the primitive ways of the… of ‘normal’ ponies.” He shuddered noticeably. “It is a hard thing to lose part of your soul, but to give up on who you are, to surrender to those coloured, singing, squalling milksops is… unforgivable.”

“None of the wendigo here were ever able to regain their powers?” I asked.

“If you are truly one of the tribe,” Herath rumbled, “then you would already know the answer to your question.”

I closed my eyes and nodded. “I had hoped that there may be a way,” I said quietly. “I’d thought that there was a chance, or some way that-”

“There is no chance,” Herath snapped. “No possibilities, no chances, no stone we have not turned searching for some way we could regain our true selves.” His eyes blazed, “They stole our lives, our lands, and even in the afterlife the gods of the Celestians steal our souls. We have lost everything, can’t you see? Are you so blinded by the blue skies and green fields, become so softened by the pampered life of a race of cowards, that you cannot see the truth staring you in the face?” Herath stomped a hoof, kicking up sand in his anger. “I see it every time I look in a mirror. I see it every time I look down and see the grey fur of a pony. I see everything.” He turned to leave, his head hanging down limply. “I see everything... but hope.”

“Herath, who is the lord of the Beyond?” I asked hopefully.

“You will find out tomorrow,” he replied dully. “You shall meet him then.”

With no further words between us the large stallion walked back to his lonely vigil by the neatly stacked armour and weapons. Well away, I noticed, from the others of our group. Sitting there, alone, the wendigo was the very definition of the word ‘solitude’. As much as I felt a tinge of sympathy for him, Herath struck me as the kind of guy you never wanted to invite to a party. I’d met his kind before; they could drain the atmosphere away as easily as pulling the plug from a bath. In Herath’s case he was more akin to a black hole pulling in the light of the stars from all around him. Still, I had to admit the big fellow was justified in his bitterness towards his fate, and the gods alone knew how long he’d been here like this. If he was indeed from the time of the war, or even thereabouts, it was around a thousand years ago in Equestrian time alone - a whole millennia’s worth of bitterness, stewing away inside his heart and mind. So far he’d been fairly cordial, if not exactly the most engaging of hosts, but he was still one of the tribe. He was, after a fashion, one of my own people. A concept I constantly struggled to come to terms with. Even after all the time I had spent here with my beloved wife and child, there was still that wendigo part of my soul that cried out to the moon at night when the stars were out and the heat of day had given way to the cool of the evening. It was a cry that Luna herself could not reply to, nor the loved ones I had left behind.

I leaned back and looked up at the stars twinkling in the distant heavens. In a way, this was heaven. For the thestrals anyway. For the wendigo, this was a prison, and one they had created for themselves in some respects. The wendigo were their own creation. A creation that the gods had never intended to come to be. That being so, why should the gods create a heaven just for them? I could call myself the ‘biscuit king’ and roll around in cake crumbs demanding a heaven for the biscuit people for all the difference it would make. As mad as that might make me, was the stark reality of existence in the afterlife for the wendigo any less insane? They had joined themselves with the spirits of the nether world, the space between the Wither World and Equestria. They were far from pleasant beings to begin with, comprised more of raw magical energy and anger than anything else. The result of their joining was the race of wendigo that were now all but extinct in Equestria. The magic of the herd had purged them of their magic, reverting them to who they had always truly been, regardless of how they may feel about it. The sad reality was that the wendigo saw themselves as true a race as any other in every regard. Something told me however that the gods didn’t see it quite the same way, and that moping around was going to achieve absolutely nothing. Nothing good anyway.

Our evening meal consisted of whatever the thestrals could provide. Glimmer had her own saddle packs and panniers whereas I only had my light packs that I’d taken with me to the bathing pools. Not bad for toiletries, but I’m not sure how long you can live on toothpaste, and soap gives me hellish heartburn. On the subject of Glimmer however, for some reason that nopony had bothered themselves to explain she was being kept away from me for the most part, and even on the march we’d been separated. It didn’t bother me too much really, after all I’d spent a great deal of time alone after… after that happened. The job that had been started by somepony but hadn’t been finished... Had it? I sighed. No, those bastards had done their job well enough. They’d tortured and murdered my wife and our unborn daughter, leaving me to die in the burning wreckage of our cabin beside the corpses of my family. The cabin had been rather erroneously called a ‘safe house’ - a remote home assigned to us by the watch until we could get to the bottom of whatever the hell it was we were all mixed up in.

“Oh, Celestia...” I pulled the pack up under my head, adjusting the contents to form a makeshift pillow. Most of my things were still at Briar’s: my cloak, travelling packs, food, dignity… Yeah. Great. At least Shade was safe, thank the gods. I couldn’t bear lose another foal, even if she wasn’t my own. Seeing her every day it was so easy to forget how Sparrow had died, trapped in her mother’s womb as Meadow’s life ebbed away on the hard wooden floor. Her murderer looming over her. Laughing.

Laughing.

I hadn’t laughed. Meadow hadn’t laughed. Neither did the killers when I’d finally caught up with them. The keeper of the underworld had them now. The puppet master had lost two of her marionettes, but there would more. There were always more. The two filth who had killed my family and sent me to a personal hell were disposable assets, and as long as the mind behind all this was at large, Lumin, Tingles, Shadow, and all of them at Smiling Borders were in danger. If only I could find a way back there, even just for a short time, no more than a week say, I would be able to find down who was behind it all and take them apart so they wouldn’t threaten anypony again. Velvet Cream would be my first target, the commissioner my second, and the gods help them when I found them. The gods themselves would weep at what the wrath of the wendigo had wrought upon those two. And if there were more… then they too would pay the price. And there was only one price to pay…

“Food.”

The thestral standing over me placed a wooden plate of food beside me. Slowly, I looked up at him and smiled.

“You! By the goddess, your…!” The thestral balked and then shook his head, taking a step back hurriedly as his eyes went wide.

I blinked in surprise at his reaction and quickly sat up, glancing behind me. What the-? There was nopony there, only the empty darkness of the black sand and the occasional small copse of crystal trees. Looking back at the warrior he stared at me before shaking his head.

“Yes?” I asked.

The warrior snorted. “Eat,” he snapped. “We move in one hour.”

And with that he turned and walked back to his comrades, but not before taking a nervous look back over his shoulder at me. I was perplexed. What the hell was all that about?! Damned idiot, I thought there was something sneaking up on us! Huffing in irritation I picked up the plate and gulped down the contents without bothering to taste it. Maybe it was just as well I hadn’t looked at it first. Whatever it was left a strange, rich, almost burnt rubber taste in my mouth. Right then I didn’t care whether it kept me up all night with heartburn or not. I doubted I’d be getting any sleep any time soon anyway. Blasted thestrals, they were peculiar enough as it was without acting all jittery around me too. I let out a sigh and flopped back onto my makeshift pillow and tried to get some rest. All too soon we would be on the move again and I would finally be able to see who this ‘lord’ was, ask why in Luna’s name I had been dragged along like some unwelcome baggage, and then get the hell out of here with Shade. I just hoped she was alright. She wasn’t my daughter, I kept telling myself that, but not having her with me felt like a little part of me was missing somehow. Perhaps a few winks would put my troubled mind to rest. Goddesses, it had to be worth a try.

********************

The wind began to pick up as we walked. Glimmer and Herath headed the party whilst the thestral warriors followed in an evenly spaced formation behind. Nopony seemed particularly bothered about me for some reason. In truth I could probably have just turned around and walked away, but I had a sneaking suspicion that attempting such a thing would elicit a sudden, and decidedly unpleasant, response. The thestrals were no fools, and I bet that even though I couldn’t see them doing it, I was likely being watched like a hawk. Even so I had a fair turn of speed with these old pony legs which I could call on if needed, and the bony creatures were anything but fast with their clumsy wings. As for how fast they could run in that armour though was something I didn’t fancy finding out the hard way. No, I was stuck with them whether I liked it or not. At least for now. Speaking of which, there was a commotion up ahead. Several of the thestrals were becoming animated, chatting to one another in loud clicks and squawks. Herath and Glimmer hadn’t slowed down, so… Ah, now I could see why. We’d broached the top of a long incline, and coming into view in the near distance was what I could only describe as a veritable mass of thestral huts. The tribal huts I had seen in the Withers were arranged in long neat lines either side of a main thoroughfare, with the great hall sited at one end of the village. Here however, it was a little different. Not because the buildings themselves were any different from their counterparts in the mortal realm however, nor even how they were laid out. No, it was the sheer scale of it that took my breath away. In the Withers there had usually been no more than several dozen to a village. Here, there were hundreds, thousands even. Each little upside down nest of shining crystal branches was a set distance from its partner, the roads through the black sand all leading to a large centralised open area and what could only be the lord’s hall beyond that. I never thought for a moment that I’d need sunglasses in the thestral lands, but by Luna’s fuzzy ears, I wished I had brought the blasted things now. The glare off the combined ranks of sparkling homes was almost painful to the eyes, and a stark contrast to the otherwise dark landscape I had come to associate with the thestral race.

We followed the road down, past the huts and headed straight towards the centre of the web. Around us thestrals stopped to watch the curious procession, staring at me as though I were some untethered hunting trophy. It wasn’t a comforting thought either. Although thestrals didn’t eat ponies, I’d still heard the stories, the old legends of the dark creatures that haunted the night. Parents used to use them to scare foals into coming home before last light. Those that remembered the stories of course. It was just as well I didn’t believe them, otherwise I would have turned tail and run for all I was worth long ago. That said, if you could look past the strange appearance of these beings, it could have been any town in Equestria. Well, if you had an active imagination of course. Very active! But sure enough, here and there stalls had been set up selling all manner of things, from weapons and clothes, to leather work and food. Interesting smells assailed me from all sides; some pleasant, others not so. There was certainly a theme here though. Armoured thestrals were everywhere, and that coupled with the militaristic layout of the town gave this reluctant observer the impression of being in the midst of an army campsite. For the thestral passing from the Withers to the afterlife it must have been home from home. One hut, one set of armour and weapons, and you were as happy as Larry. All you needed then was a good war to get your muscles working properly and the thestral idea of heaven was born. It was no wonder they were moved from Equestria by the gods, otherwise the pastel coloured peace lovers would have been extinct long ago. Come to think of it, how the hell ponies had won the war against the Legion and Nightmare Moon was nothing short of miraculous. I had seen the memories of Maroc and it still seemed unreal to me no matter how many times I ran it through my mind. The ponies in his time must have been a far different breed than they were now, that was for certain. Perhaps it was just as well in some respects, but it still showcased the adaptability of their race.

Their race.

Goddesses, when had I started thinking of Equestrians as ‘them’? I stared down at my hooves plodding along. They were typical pony hooves attached to typical pony legs, and a very typical pony body to boot. But it was what was inside that was different. I was a wendigo whether I liked it or not. Demon, terror of the northern winters, call me what you will, but I was who I was. Maybe I’d forgotten that on some level, I don’t know, although I think that there was still that part of me that didn’t want to be a wendigo, that wanted to remain nothing more than a plain old everyday stallion with a wife, child, and a happy little afterlife in our beautiful cottage. It hadn’t been enough. Pop had known that too. In the soul hunters I’d felt more at home, for as short a period as it was. In my own mind I’d been a watchpony again, back in my old life helping those who needed help. And it had felt good. Since arriving in the thestral world of the dead however, the other side of me had been silently crying out into the dark sky, pulling at me in a way that had felt both exhilarating and terrifying in equal measure. In life it had been a constant internal struggle. One part pony, one part wendigo, I had been able to control the wendigo side of me for the most part, but not until I’d done some terrible things - things that I would remember on dark, cold nights by the fire. I had done my best to accept that no matter what the future brought, it was still a part of who I was, and if I were honest, if somepony asked me now if I could give it all up and return to being plain old Fairlight Loam the watchstallion... I know what my answer would be.

Our merry band halted by another group of thestrals who they apparently knew, and soon the whole lot of them were all chatting away in that strange language of theirs, leaving me standing about like a spare part. Some guards these guys were! Beside us the loud clanging of a blacksmith’s rang in my ears, dulled only slightly by the large numbers of pedestrians pushing past us. Rather than being an annoying sound however, I found it quite mesmerising. The heat, the smoke, the ringing of steel upon the anvil - it was creation on an almost primitive level. But the skill of a talented blacksmith should never be underestimated. They could transform elements from the earth into something magical in its own right, forging everything from simple garden tools to true works of art. Without any conscious will of my own, my tired hooves drew me towards the music of the metal, and the tall slim stallion wearing an apron as he beat the glowing iron. I was transfixed by the sheer energy, the raw power of what I was seeing. A piece of metal, white hot, was struck again and again in a rhythmic pounding of the hammer. Sparks flew like burning flakes of starlight. It was so beautiful, so entrancing…

“Can I help you?” The stallion stopped to wipe the sweat from his brow and put down the hammer. He had a shorter mane than most of the thestrals I’d seen, most likely due to his work. His coat was slick with sweat, his eyes a deep ruby red, whilst his muzzle displayed short sharp teeth curling up over his top lip at the corners of his mouth. As I watched he walked over to a water butt and rinsed off his face before lifting the ladle and taking a long draught.

“Sorry,” I replied, “I was just so fascinated watching what you were doing. I’ve seen blacksmiths at work before and it always called to me for some reason.” I gazed at the forge and sighed. “I guess I missed my calling in life.”

“It’s never too late to start,” the thestral replied. “I was a warrior in my day, but when I came to the Darklands I fancied a change of pace. The town needed more armourers, and so, here I am.” The thestral’s eyes widened. “Ah! Where are my manners? The name’s Nimbus. And you are?”

“Fairlight...” I frowned in thought for a moment. Nimbus? I’d heard that before somewhere. And then it came to me, “You aren’t Thorn’s son by any chance are you?”

“You know my father?” The young looking fellow took a step towards me, frowning in thought. “By the goddess… You’re that pony everyone’s been going on about, right? The wendigo?”

“Not so much a wendigo in practice, but yup, that’s me.” I reached out a hoof. “It’s good to see you again.”

Tentatively, Nimbus reached out and shook my hoof. “You know me?”

I took a breath and nodded slowly, “I saw you only briefly. By the bridge on our way to the white city. You were-”

“Already dead,” Nimbus finished for me. He shrugged it off. “It doesn’t matter, they did what they had to do as warriors. I died as a warrior should. It all worked out as the goddess planned.”

“They turned you into a living bomb!” I huffed. “I had nightmares about what they’d done to you.”

“But my father succeeded, didn’t he?” Nimbus asked, no doubt knowing the answer already.

I conceded a nod. “Yeah. At a damned high price though.”

“And now three tribes are unified,” Nimbus smiled. “And I believe that is thanks in part to you, is it not?”

“Ha! I think it happened despite me you mean!” I laughed.

Nimbus rolled his eyes and chuckled merrily. “Come, have a drink with me, friend. I have some chilled Andrilean Ale here which I’d set to one side for later.” He shook his mane as he removed the lid from a box beside a long wooden pipe-like system. “You know, I can’t remember why I put two jugs in here. Perhaps it was fate that brought you here today.”

“To sample your ale?” I asked.

“And why the hell not?” Nimbus passed one of the jugs to me and lifted his own up. “To old warriors!”

“To old warriors!” I laughed, and toasted my old friend’s son in good cheer.

Nimbus pointed to the box. “What do you think then, Fairlight? I’ve tapped into the mountain’s coldest stream and use a system of pipes to ensure I have constant running water here for the forge. Also makes a damned good place to cool your beer too.”

“It’s very ingenious,” I said taking another mouthful of the cold refreshing brew. “Do you need running water in a forge?”

“For Heaven’s Steel, yes.” Nimbus put down his ale and licked his lips. “Mmm! The usual weapons and armour are made from the crystal trees you see. A good few whacks and they end up with chips, not unlike flint weapons, but much, much harder. Heaven’s steel though is different. It has to be forged at much higher temperatures than other metals, and running mountain water is the best thing I’ve found to quench the metal just right. It needs to be hard and sharp, but flexible enough so it won’t break. It keeps its shape too, which is something I managed to achieve after more than a few accidents, I can tell you.”

“I’ve never heard of heaven’s steel before,” I said honestly. “Is it rare?”

Nimbus finished his ale in one impressive swig before answering. “It is. I pay the younger warriors to bring it back for me when they find it so I can use it to make weapons and armour. Not so much in the armour department though because finding enough of the stuff even for a peytrel can take months. Years sometimes for the right grade.”

“Where does it come from?” I asked.

“Falls from the sky believe it or not,” Nimbus shrugged. “Some call is Sky Metal, Gods Tears, Dragon Shit, you name it. Basically we find lumps of it out there now and again, but there’s not an awful lot in the samples we recover so prices are kept high.”

“But the price for a piece made from it is even higher?” I offered.

Nimbus belched out a laugh, “Damned right it is!”

The young stallion’s smile was infectious, and I found myself warming to this unusual and gracious host of intruding ponies as I began to lose myself in his world. “Forgive me Nimbus, but you seem a lot different to the other warriors I’ve met. I don’t mean this in a bad way you understand, it’s just that you come across as a lot less, um… stuffy?”

“Do I?” Nimbus huffed and leaned against one of the large roof supports. “Yeah, I get told that. I was brought up like the rest, and having a father like Thorn made everybody else think I was going to be ‘just like him’ or be the next great general of the army or some such rubbish. Nope, I did my duty, and after I’d died I began thinking to myself: is this really what I want to do for the rest of eternity? Just bash others on the head?” He shook his head, “No. But this...” He reached into a barrel of small dark metallic lumps of ore, “this is worth it. To work with this incredible material and create pieces that will last until the end of days? That, Fairlight, that is truly a worthy path for any fellow tread.”

“To create rather than to destroy?” I asked.

“I was thinking more about making money, but yes, that’ll do too.” Nimbus suddenly laughed out loud and slapped his side. “Come, Fairlight, let me show you something that will make your heart sing!”

The interior of the forge was just as dark as I remembered from my last visit to the blacksmiths in Ponyville. This was by design of course, and intended to aid the smith in determining the temperature of the heated metal by showing up the variations in the colour better than it would under normal daylight conditions. The finished pieces on display play here though were a different animal altogether from the more pedestrian creations of your everyday equestrian smith. A myriad examples of the thestral blacksmiths art hung from hooks, sat stacked in barrels, or were otherwise leaned up in racks on the walls. Spears, swords, axes, you name it. Some of the items were made from the crystal material I was used to seeing, but others had been crafted from a much darker substance. So dark in fact that they seemed to suck what little light there was from the very air around them, playing tricks on the eyes of the observer. I blinked, trying to focus on them as Nimbus carefully reached down and unlocked a large chest heavily bound in thick layers of iron strapping.

“Problem with thieves?” I asked.

The blacksmith shook his head. “No, but I believe it’s best not to take chances. Besides, we have more than thestrals here in the Darklands.” He looked up at me apologetically. “No offence.”

“None taken,” I smiled.

“Good. Now then, let’s get this into the light.” Nimbus lifted out a thickly wrapped object from the chest’s depths and carried it over to his workbench. After I’d moved some of his tools aside to make room, the thestral placed the item down and took a breath. “Here it is,” he said quietly, “my masterpiece. I made it for the last lord of the Beyond, but when he fell in battle it just ended up languishing here. Unpaid for.”

“Can’t you sell it?” I asked.

“I tried,” he replied, “But my people are a superstitious lot, and some idiot said that it was cursed for some damned fool reason. The next thing I knew was that nobody would so much as look at the thing save they ‘absorb its negative energy’ or some such rot. I wouldn’t mind, but he hadn’t even picked the bloody thing up before he got his dumb head lopped off! Maybe if he had he’d still be around now.” Nimbus sighed, “Such are the trials of the gods. Here, have a look for yourself.”

Carefully the thestral turned back the sheets of oiled cloth. One, then another, and then another, each uncovering a little more of the sleeping weapon until, finally, the thestral’s artwork was revealed in all its glory to my inquisitive gaze. And ‘art’, it most certainly was.

“What do you think?”

I stared at the thing before me in open mouthed awe. Words failed me. It was… It was simply... magnificent. The haft was carved black wood, elegantly turned at just the right angles for a pony to be able to hold it in their hooves and forelegs. Silver inlay, neatly applied and tastefully subdued, wound like ivy along its length. But it was the blade that sang the loudest to me. The long curved blade, wide at the top and sweeping down to a point that was as sharp as the breath of winters first frost. Runes were carved into it, inlaid in some sort of red substance that glowed eerily in the light. The blade itself though, seemed to hold a deeper inner light of its own. Blue. Blue as the ocean’s depths and the deeper blue of a midnight sky. As I moved I swear I could see stars in the darkness, twinkling like silver, dancing away as I my eyes fell upon them.

“My goddess...” I breathed, “It’s full of stars.”

“A trick of the light and the metal’s inner structure,” Nimbus said quietly, apparently pleased with my reaction. “Heaven’s steel never needs sharpening. Never cracks, nor bends, nor breaks.” He shrugged, “And yet this will never see battle. A shame.”

“The inscription...” I whispered.

“Oh that.” Nimbus raised an eyebrow, “It’s an ancient language from somewhere. Personally I haven’t got a clue what it says, but the lord asked for it to be inscribed and-”

My lips moved on their own, the words coming from a place that bypassed my conscious mind and spilling out into the quiet of the forge, “One to find the way. One to open the lock. Blood to open the world. Heart to close the wound.”

“You can read that?!” Nimbus shook his head in amazement. “Nobody I know here could make head nor tail of it, and in honesty, I don’t think the lord could either. I think he just liked the look of the runes. How did you...?”

“I… don’t really know,” I said quietly.

I blinked and rubbed my eyes. I’d had something like this happen to me before, back when I had been able to tap more readily into the wendigo memories stored within me. I hadn’t seen nor heard anything from them since before I’d died. And yet now, without warning, I’d been able to read ancient writing as easily as Equestrian. I was beginning to feel decidedly unsettled and I think Nimbus noticed it too.

“I’d better put it away,” he said quickly.

“NO!” My hoof shot out and caught him. “No… Please, Nimbus. Can I… Can I hold it? Just for a moment, please.”

The young stallion stood staring at me, his eyes watching me warily as he said, “Um… Sure.”

A little hesitantly, the tall stallion stood back and let me approach his workbench and the incredible weapon that lay upon it on the bed of cloth. The steel, cold as death and no doubt just as lethal, sat there, waiting for me. My lips were bone dry and I licked them in anticipation. Carefully, slowly, I reached out and lifted it from the bench. But not with magic. Not this time. No, this was a weapon that need to be wielded with sinew, muscle, and brute strength alone. My hooves trembled as I lifted it and felt the weight. My heart leaped into my throat. It was as light as a feather! And yet it carried just enough heft in the perfect proportions to give it momentum. I slid my foreleg down the wood, feeling for what I knew was there. The slightest amount of pressure, and with a ‘click’ the black blade swept out with a hiss that cut the air in twain. I smiled. Memories of battle, the sound, the blood, the screams... The wendigo within me sang the song of war as clear as the mountain air.

“It knows you.” Nimbus’s words drifted through the air.

I blinked as I came back to myself. “What do you mean?”

The black stallion leaned against the pillar and smiled. “A weapon chooses its master. I could make a thousand blades, all identical, but only one of them would suit the bearer. This one,” he nodded, “has found you.”

“I’m no warrior,” I said quietly. I could see my reflection in the blade as the sparks of light in the steel glinted in the dim light. “Not now.”

“Who said you had to be?” Nimbus replied. “I know many who carry a weapon as nothing more than an ornament. For you though, this blade has found a master. Whether you use it as a weapon or not is up to you.”

“I… I don’t know.” I closed my eyes, painfully tearing them away from the sheer majesty of the weapon in my hooves. “I can’t pay you. The herd doesn’t have-”

Nimbus held out a hoof. “You don’t have to. My father does not make friends lightly, Fairlight. And besides, nobody here is ever going buy the thing, so I’d rather it-”

“You!” The voice slammed into the forge like a hammer blow. “Get out of there and come with us. Now!”

Reluctantly I passed the scythe back to Nimbus. “Thank you, Nimbus. Perhaps one day, eh?”

“Perhaps.” Nimbus stared past me at the warrior. “He’s coming now.”

The busy life of the thestral town ebbed and flowed around me, the cries of stall holders mingling with the overall rumble of life so typical of any well populated urban area. Some of the locals stopped to stare as we passed them by. Most simply ignored us. Nimbus stood in the doorway of his forge, watching us leave in silence as I was lead away like the compliant prisoner I apparently was. Whatever lay in store for me wasn’t far away now anyway. Looming up ahead of us was the focal point of the town; the great hall of the lord. Unlike the nest-like homes of the general citizenry, the lord’s abode w as built of neatly cut logs of crystal, the whole giving the appearance of a massive upturned boat. Just like the home of the Beyond tribe in the Withers, numerous flags and shields adorned the walls - flags I had seen before. They were black, trimmed in deep purple, and sporting a white embroidered helmet in the centre. It was the emblem of their goddess, Nightmare Moon. Even here, even now, the darker persona of the princess of the night was worshipped as the one true goddess of the moon. Her defeat at the hooves of her sister apparently meant little to the thestrals, and she was as revered now as she ever had been.

The steps up to the large double doors were polished and worn from the countless hooves that had passed this way over the aeons, whilst guards in black painted armour stood like living statues flanking the entrance to their lord’s home. There was a part of me that half expected the duchess to appear at any moment screaming for my head, but as far as I knew the crazy old coot was still alive and kicking in the Withers. At least, I hoped so. The last thing I wanted was to be reunited with that lunatic. I doubted she’d ever forgiven me for taking her daughter away from her, irrespective of the fact that she had achieved what she’d wanted anyway: the unification of the two tribes. Now, with Ember having married into the Broken Cliff tribe, they were larger still. With those bonds of marriage the prosperity of the three tribes was assured. For the foreseeable future anyway.

Our party was met by a pair of thestral mares wearing white cloaks. The two of them walked tall and proudly, their heads adorned with wreaths of golden leaves, an ostentatious adornment which spoke volumes of their lord. Most of the thestrals I had met previously were more, shall we say, rugged? Even the duchess hadn’t exactly been over dressed, but perhaps things were a lot different here than I’d expected. In any case I couldn’t hear what was being said from where I was standing, but whatever it was we were lead in virtually straight away. It appeared we were expected...

Our hoof steps clopped on the polished black floor, the hollow sound echoing around the wide open interior. Tall columns, carved in the doric style, supported the high vaulted ceiling. Lit torches ranged along the walls, their flames flickering in the breeze from the open door which banged shut behind us with a resonating boom which made my mane twitch. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, trying to take my mind of what was to come. Unfortunately, it was a lot harder than it sounded. Even looking straight ahead I couldn’t help but notice the plethora of colourful banners that hung from polished golden chains on each of the supporting pillars. I suspected they’d been purposely placed in this manner so that anypony approaching the throne would have been left in no doubt whatsoever that this was the seat of a warrior lord. And by the gods, there was so many of them! You would have had to have been blind to have missed them, but then, that was the point wasn’t it. They were a mixture of the more typical thestral battle flags I was familiar with, and many more besides. Knowing the thestral race these were probably war trophy’s, perhaps facsimiles of the ones taken back in the mortal realm. There were many I didn’t recognise, but one in particular jumped out at me. It was a large red banner, embroidered in gold thread with a wreath and the letters ‘E.Q’ in the centre. A Equestrian banner. This one, was special. Unlike the others it was surrounded by stacks of neatly arranged spears and swords, definitely not like the ones the thestral warriors used. Beside them, bowls of incense and flickering braziers added an extra dimension to the overall theme. That theme being power. This place, this home of the thestral lord, oozed military might the likes of which I had never seen before in all of my travels.

Guards, heavily armed and armoured, watched us in absolute silence as we passed them until finally reached the long purple carpet that lead up to the foot of the stairs to the single throne. Unlike my visit to the delightful duchess’s home there were no ranks of baying minor lords and ladies here, no crowd of angry thestrals demanding my head either. Whether that was a good sign or not remained to be seen. Herath, leader of our group, stopped us with a raised hoof and the party came to a halt. And then, we waited. The absence of sound was, to use a cliche, utterly deafening. My heart was pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears along with my breathing, as all around me the thestrals stood like pieces on a chessboard: immobile, frozen in place as though awaiting the command of their master. Fortunately I didn’t have to wait too long for our audience. The two white cloaked mares reappeared from a side door and strode out to take their positions either side of the throne. And then, as I expected, the lord himself emerged.

I could sense the tension from the guards increasing despite their silence. The tall thestral in the purple and black cloak bore his position well, and his people knew it. He was muscular for a thestral, and as his coat caught the light its scarlet undertone made him look as though he had bathed in the blood of his enemies. His impressively sharp teeth were perfectly white, curling over his top lip and really drew the eye. The stallion’s hooves were polished to a near mirror finish, his tail and mane had been interwoven with fine golden ivy and leaf designs, not too much to be vulgar, but just enough to be tasteful. As for his eyes… the blue-white was startling – two small fires of brilliance in a coat that was as dark as midnight. He ascended the steps and took to his throne with a sweep of a hoof, allowing his cloak to spill over the arm. Behind him another thestral appeared, cloaked in red and black and carrying a sword that was so long it could likely cleave a dragon in twain. By the looks of the enormous blade and the nicks in the edge, it likely had been for exactly that. I recognised the material immediately. Heaven’s steel. So, a product of Nimbus perhaps? Even from where I was standing the workponyship was mouth watering, and I could feel myself nearly drooling at the mere sight of such a magnificent weapon.

“Attend all for Lord Maul of Moon Hollows.”

Moon Hollows, eh? It sounded almost quaint considering the surroundings. Mind you, I would have been surprised if they’d kept the same name as the ‘Beyond’ of course. Conversation would have been a bit confusing to say the least! I could see it now; ‘Fancy a coffee in Ponyville? Sure! Is that the one where the living go, or the dead? Not many in here tonight, competition a bit stiff? Yeah, it’s been dying off lately. Really? You need to liven the place up a bit.’ It would be a stand-up comedian’s paradise.

“Bow!” Somepony hissed at me, and I bobbed my head with the others.

“Well? What’s happened then?” Smoke trickled from Lord Maul’s nostrils as his gravelly voice rolled out, amplified by the echoing nature of the hall. “I was just about to take a bath and then I’m told there’s a matter that ‘demands’ my ‘immediate’ attention.” He narrowed his gaze, staring at each of us in turn. “Yes? Anyone? Don’t all rush at once now will you?”

Herath cleared his throat and stood tall. He was quite impressive in stature really, and nearly as tall as our genial host. “Glimmer of the Beyond has returned from her mate’s trial, my lord. He appears to have been killed, however when we went searching for them we found Glimmer in the company of this Celestian.”

“‘Appears’ to have been killed...” Maul muttered.

“Yes, my lord.”

Maul raised an eyebrow. “By what, exactly?”

Herath looked confused. “My lord?”

“You said he ‘appeared’ to have been killed,” Maul snorted. “By what? A cold? Terminal mange? Well? Spit it out, stallion!”

Herath closed his eyes and seemed to stiffen up as he said, “We believe he was killed by the Celestian, my lord.”

“Ah, now we’re getting somewhere!” Maul turned his gaze to me. “A Celestian, eh?” He peered at me with his intense eyes. “Well? Got a tongue in your head, boy? Speak!”

I gave myself a surreptitious shake, and perhaps a little impolitely on reflection, a step forward. “My name is Fairlight, Lord Maul. And I can assure you I am most definitely not a ‘Celestian’.” I shot a look at Herath.

“Bold words, boy, bold words.” The lord nodded to himself as if affirming something in his own mind. “Care to explain what you were doing with one of our mares in the woods?” He leaned towards one of the white cloaked hoofmaidens. “Guess he was up to no good, eh? Fancied a slimmer lass than he was used to I’ll wager!” The two maids chuckled on cue as the tall stallion turned back to me. “Well, come on then boy, out with it, out with it.”

I decided to keep things short and to the point. Maul seemed the type who preferred brevity rather than embellishments. “Glimmer is a friend of my family, Lord Maul,” I explained. “I came here to pay her a visit and was attacked by a manticore on the way. Fortunately I was saved by some passing warriors and taken to the seer’s home where my wounds were treated. I was collected firewood when I encountered Glimmer and Lance, her mate, in the woods.” I took a breath. “He challenged me to a fight. I was lucky, I caught him off guard, and later… he sacrificed himself to the goddess rather than endure returning to you in disgrace.”

“Really now?” Lord Maul took a swig of his wine and then suddenly clopped his hooves together. “Wine for our guests!” Surprisingly graciously he waited until we had all been refreshed before continuing with his questions. “So, Fairlight was it?” I nodded. “You have many thestral friends, do you? I haven’t been to the Eternal Herd in some centuries, so I expect some things have changed since I was last there. Common is it?”

“It is not common, my lord,” I replied carefully. “I have been blessed by the goddess to have friends such as Glimmer.”

“I’m sure you have been, Fairlight. Yes indeed.” The lord waved a hoof at our entourage. “The rest of you can go. Fairlight, Glimmer, you will stay here with me and we can continue our little chat in more salubrious surrounds, yes?”

It didn’t sound like I had much choice in the matter. Mind you, part of me was screaming at me to run like hell for the door, but as I didn’t feel particularly suicidal right then I kept my brain from getting me killed and simply nodded, “Yes, Lord Maul.”

The red-black stallion clopped his hooves together, “Capital! Let us away then, equines. Girls! Food and drink to my audience chamber. The good wine if you please, and some of my brandy too I think.”

Brandy? Suddenly my position of prisoner didn’t seem so bad! Unfortunately Glimmer didn’t appear to share my optimism. She was as quiet as she had been since our first encounter with Herath and his troop, remaining uncomfortably silent as she followed the Lord and I into a side room which was as plush as the hall had been austere. The now familiar battle banners lined the walls together with paintings of, surprisingly, distinctly equestrian landscapes. Burning black braziers and sconces were noticeable by their absence, replaced instead with a large chandelier of thick candles and, surprisingly, magic lanterns. Large cushions lay around a circular rug which was embroidered with the goddess’s sigil.

The lord flopped onto one of the cushions and waved to us, “Take a seat, both of you.”

I nearly collapsed. The hardships of everything that had happened to me since arriving in the Darklands seemed to be catching up to me all at once, and I sank into the soft cushion with a deep sigh.

“You must forgive my officers,” Lord Maul began. “They can be a little overzealous at times. Especially considering the unusual circumstances of your arrival, Fairlight. Do you mind if I call you that?”

I shook my head, “Of course not, Lord Maul.”

The thestral nodded. Leaning back, he lifted his muzzle and sniffed. “Ah, refreshments!”

True enough, several hoofmaidens filed in and arranged platters of fascinating looking snacks before us on low tables while other brought in decanters of, I noted, a decidedly fine looking brandy.

“Smoke?”

Again I nodded, and in short order a selection of finely made pipes already packed with tobacco, a jar of tapers, and a low burning candle were brought in. Now this was more like it! Long live being a prisoner! I waited until Lord Maul had taken his pipe before taking mine and lit it with the flame from my magic.

“May I?” he asked.

I obliged, leaning forward and hovered the flame over the stallion’s bowl until he had his pipe well lit. Glimmer followed, and the three of us sat there smoking, with a generous measure of brandy each and in especially welcome comfort.

“Lord Maul, may I ask a question?” I asked.

He nodded, “You may.”

“Am I a prisoner of yours?”

For a moment the thestral puffed on his pipe, rolling the smoke around his mouth as he thought. “Do you believe you are a prisoner?”

“Considering the circumstances, I confess I am a little unsure,” I answered honestly. “For a gaoler you are a most excellent host, my lord.”

Maul’s laughter rolled out around the room. “I should hope so!” He sighed loudly as he rolled his shoulders. “My dear fellow, freedom is a concept of ones own mind. You are as much a prisoner as I am. As we all are. The gods, are our gaolers.”

“So I am free to go whenever I please?” I asked.

“Of course.”

“And your guards wouldn’t stop me?”

“Why would they?” Lord Maul asked pleasantly. “The war ended a long time ago, Fairlight. For some of us however, the memories of that time linger, and ponies are not exactly trusted folk amongst us.”

I nodded, taking a sip of my brandy. “The wendigo live here though, don’t they?”

“Aye, they do.” Lord Maul took a pull on his pipe. “Wendigo like you, eh?”

I said nothing.

“Fairlight Loam: Lord of the four winds, slayer of the dragon of coal spike mountain, scourge of the changelings and mate of the lady Shadow of the Beyond.” Maul smiled, “Am I correct?”

He was, damn him. I kept my voice polite and neutral as I replied, “Lady Shadow slew the dragon, Lord Maul.”

“Ha! Did she now?” The ancient thestral slapped his thigh loudly, “Damn it all, I knew the girl had some of her father’s gumption about her!”

“You know her, sir?” I asked.

“Know her?” Maul huffed loudly, “I may have been dead for a while boy, but I know my own people, and I know where she came from too. Oh, yes, I know.” He leaned towards me. “You do know what she is don’t you?”

I felt my heart go cold. “I do.”

“Yes… yes I thought you would. That old soak Briar wouldn’t have been able to resist filling your head full of her tales. And I’ll bet she’d have known exactly who you were the moment you popped through the portal too.” He waved a hoof. “Oh, don’t look so surprised, boy. Briar sees everything that goes on both in the herd and here in the Darklands. She would have known about the manticore long before the beast had even had a sniff of you. In fact, I’d also bet that old crone found you herself and carted you back home rather than some ‘conveniently passing warriors’.” He shrugged, “What an imagination! In all honesty I’m surprised you didn’t end up as a sacrifice yourself, rather than poor Lance. Sad about the young lad though; he had promise that one. Couldn’t keep his old stallion in his pants though, if you know what I mean. Thought with his emotions rather than his grey matter.”

“So you believe my story?” I asked.

“Why not?” Lord Maul asked. “Do you have a reason to lie to me?”

I shook my head, “No, my lord.”

“Good lad.” The thestral turned to Glimmer and spoke to her in their hissing and clicking tongue. For several minutes the peculiar conversation flowed back and forth before he finally returned his attention to me. “My apologies for speaking to Glimmer in front of you, Lord Fairlight. I’m sure you understand that something like this is rather unusual, and I would much rather keep things cordial than have you thrown into the basilisk pit, yes?”

I nodded, “Yes, Lord Maul.” Basilisk pit?!

He chuckled and took one of the snacks, tossing it into the air before gulping it down. “Glimmer speaks highly of you, Lord Fairlight. In fact, my brothers and sisters who recently arrived from the Withers speak of your fight with the lord of the purple sands and the battle of the city of the moon.” He smiled, taking another puff on his pipe, “Ah, how I wish I could have been there! The sounds and smell of battle, the clash of axe and sword, the sight of your vanquished enemies beneath your hooves. The song of war, lord Fairlight, you know of this, yes?”

“I do,” I replied.

“Good,” Lord Maul said, sinking back into his cushions. “Good.” The thestral took a sip of his brandy, rearranging his tail. “Now, it would seem we have something of a problem on our hooves that has to be resolved. It shouldn’t be too much of a task though, as you look like the kind of fellow who can handle himself. In fact I’m absolutely certain it’s something we can deal with without too much fuss.” I suddenly had that sinking feeling that I was about to hear something I wasn’t going to like. “Tell you what, as I’m the host here, I believe your friend Glimmer would be best placed to tell you. That is, if you aren’t already aware of it?”

“Aware of what?” I asked, glancing at Glimmer in confusion.

At Lord Maul’s urging, Glimmer licked her lips, her head held low as she began. So far, this didn’t bode well for me at all. “Fairlight...” She closed her eyes and let out a pent up sigh. “With the death of my mate at the hooves of another stallion...” A shudder ran through the mare’s body. “You can… claim me as your own.” My heart skipped a beat as she continued, “As you are already mated to… several mares, I… I do not want to...”

I placed a hoof on her foreleg. “I know, you don’t have to explain.”

“No,” Glimmer shook her head. “You don’t understand. Our laws state that by refusing to accept you as my mate, I must undergo the trial of branches to cleanse my shame and restore the honour of my lineage.”

I frowned, casting a glance at Maul. “What’s the trial of branches?”

Glimmer took a deep breath. “I must go out into the hinterlands for a year, living on what I can find and-”

“What?! Now just hold on a bloody minute!” I cut in. My mane bristled as my anger flared. “What the hell is going on here? What happened between Lance and I has nothing to do with you at all!” I rounded on the lord. “Lord Maul, you can’t let her go off into exile, she’s innocent! It was me who knocked out Lance, sure, but it was his choice to go and sacrifice himself. Glimmer had nothing to do with it!”

“Lance was her mate, was she not?” Lord Maul asked pleasantly.

“Well, yes, but-”

The old thestral shook his head. “It is our law, Lord Fairlight. You may not like it, but as an… ‘Equestrian’, I understand you may find such things a little unusual compared to your own customs, yes?”

“It’s bucking suicide is what it is!” I snapped. “The land here is a bloody deathtrap, and on her own she wouldn’t stand a chance!”

“Wouldn’t she?” Lord Maul let out a snort of smoke. “She is a warrior, Lord Fairlight, as are all our kin. Many of our young ones take the trial voluntarily to gain honour and a place at my table. This, however, is a matter of law, and even I am not above the law.”

“Then the law is an ass, sir!” I held my head up and swigged back the last of the brandy before banging my hoof down for emphasis. “If the law is wrong, then change it. You have the power to do that, do you not?”

“You want me to change the law? For what reason?” The tall thestral cocked his head to one side, alternating his gaze between Glimmer and myself. “You don’t believe she has the strength to survive, is that it? Do you not believe she has the skills and will to prevail?” He shook his head sadly, “You dishonour your friend by doubting her, Fairlight.”

My mane bristled with indignity. “This has nothing to do with doubting her strength, her honour, or her will, Lord Maul. This is about what is right. And what is right is that I am the one who caused this by coming here in the first place.” I slammed my hoof on the floor making the glasses rattle. “I will take her place.”

“Fairlight, no!” Glimmer barked, “For the sake of the goddess, you don’t know what-”

“Be silent!” The lord’s eyes flared like white hot suns, silencing Glimmer in an instant. He turned to me, the smoke wreathing his muzzle emphasising the intensity of his blue-white gaze. “You would voluntarily take the trial in her place? You would take the walk into the Hinterland for one year?”

I nodded, “I would.”

Glimmer looked like she was about to explode. “Fairlight, no! Don’t be a fool!”

Ignoring her, Maul locked his cold gaze onto mine. “Then I decree this: Lord Fairlight, you will undertake the trial of branches in Glimmer’s stead. However, as you are not a thestral and thus not bound by the laws of our people, I can grant you this boon: find the Roc of Alegarth Mountain, bring me one of its eggs, and I will proclaim Glimmer’s honour restored. For yourself in accepting this task, you will have earned a place at my table as a friend of our people. Of course,” he continued, “you may walk away now and that will be an end to the matter.”

I didn’t even consider it an option. “Then I accept,” I replied firmly.

“For the goddess’s sake, Fairlight, you don’t know what you’re-” Glimmer’s words were cut short by the lord banging his hoof on the rug.

“Then we are agreed,” Lord Maul announced looking me in the eye. “You will undertake the trial and this matter will be settled. Yes?”

“Agreed.” I held out my hoof and the deal, for better or worse, was struck.

I didn’t so much see as feel the intensity of Glimmer’s glaring eyes beside me. She was furious with me, and perhaps she had good reason to be. I didn’t doubt her strength nor her skills or abilities. This was my choice, and I would be damned if I saw a friend of mine put at risk because of a situation I had caused, no matter how inadvertently. Hopefully I’d get this out of the way quickly, collect Shade, and then get the hell out of here. I suppressed a groan. How in the goddess’s name did I keep getting myself into these situations?! I was no mountain climber that was for sure, but I’d done worse things. Hadn’t I? I snatched up my glass and refilled it. If nothing else at least it would help drown out that part of my mind that was jumping somersaults at my headstrong decision to risk myself in a venture I knew nothing about. But what of my pride? My honour? I heard so much about the honour of thestral warriors, but did anypony think about mine? Hardly! Ponies were apparently not given any consideration in the matters of honour, but I would show them. I would do what was right for my friend and, I suppose, for myself.

For a while, Lord Maul, myself and Glimmer, talked about inconsequential things: life in the herd, in Equestria, and how the two societies differed. On the subject of his own people, Lord Maul was a little more guarded but remained was the consummate professional when it came to hosting. He told me of their histories, their laws, and, surprisingly, their mating rituals. It was worth hearing that alone just to see Glimmer blush.

“So the female chooses the strongest suitor,” I affirmed with a nod.

“Not always,” Maul said as he put down his glass. “A female may choose a male from the underclass, but this is unusual. Mating is usually kept within the classes, but exceptions are made on occasion, such as in my case.”

“You married outside your class?” I asked.

Maul grinned, “I did.” He sipped his brandy thoughtfully. “Slight is an excellent armourer. She was able to repair my armour after it had been all but destroyed during my battle with the dragon of Epis Fell. I can tell you, that damned beast nearly had me more than once! Still, a quick thrust into the things throat brought it down well enough, but not before the damned lizard had torn my armour to shreds.” He tapped the underside of his muzzle. “They have a weak spot you see, just here where the head meets the neck. One good thrust between the scales and it severs the spinal cord. Hit it right and they go down like a ton of shit, so you have to get out of the way pretty damned quick or you’ll end up flatter than a hearth cake!”Maul chuckled to himself. “Anyway, when I got home it took an hour to cut all the knackered armour off my sorry hide. Slight had been my family armourer for many years though, and by the goddess I was glad she knew her craft!” He licked his lips and took a pull on his pipe. “I tell you, Lord Fairlight, that girl was worth her weight in all the precious gems of the world. Naturally I had to express my own interest and petition her family before she agreed to take me as her own.”

“So you chose her before she chose you?” I asked.

“Exactly!” Maul’s rumble of laughter rolled around the room. “There are many ways and means to achieve one’s goals in life. One merely needs to play the game the right way to win.”

I shook my head slowly with a smile playing across my lips. Maul was a stallion after my own heart.

“Lord Maul, forgive me for asking, but who is Herath?” I asked. “I’m still a little uncertain why I was brought here.”

“Ah, the wendigo!” Maul finished his brandy in a single gulp and poured another for himself before topping up my own. “Herath works with our search teams. When a warrior is overdue from a trial we send them out to try to find their remains. If there are any of course; the families do so like to have their armour and weapons back, plus any bits they can put on the pyre. It helps bring closure you know. In your case he apparently thought to bring you back here for some reason or other. You’d have to ask him yourself. Anyway, Herath came here with some others after they’d become disenchanted with their own afterlife in the herd. Strange lot they are, but I confess they’re certainly useful to have around. Many of our people see them as fellow warriors you know.”

“But not everypony?” I suggested.

Maul shook his head, “We have long memories, Lord Fairlight. Some of us recall when they fled the field after the second battle of River Valley.” He held up a hoof, “Not that I believe that you understand. I know the wendigo, and I also know that when the battle is lost it is the warrior who can still run who survives to fight another day. I have long held the belief that fighting to the last is a noble way to die in battle, but not if you want to win the war. The more of you that survive, the more that can rally to fight once more. Every war, every battle, won or lost, is an opportunity to learn from your enemy so that one day you can strike at their weakest point and win.” Maul smiled as he put his glass down. “And winning, Lord Fairlight, is what the game is all about.”

I couldn’t disagree with those sentiments. “Lord Maroc lost his wife in the fighting at River Valley. He hurried home to try to save what was left of his people when the Celestian forces descended upon their fortress.”

“Alas, I was not there to see such terrible things,” Maul explained. “I, like many of my own fellows, fled through the portal to the white city to save our own skins.” He shrugged. “Rather ironic that some of us blame the wendigo for doing what we did ourselves. In many respects they took the worst of the Celestian’s vengeance, nearly being wiped out to a soul by the white witch and her minions.”

“Some survived at least,” I said. “A group escaped to the northern mountains.”

“Mmm!” Maul wiped his muzzle and popped one of the crispy snacks into his mouth. “That they did! Some of them came through here recently too, saying that there’d been contact made with a group of ponies from Equestria or something. Can’t say I pay much attention to such things you understand; got my hooves full dealing with this lot as it is.” He shrugged and stretched his large leathery wings. “Sad bunch you wendigo. Lost your powers, lost your wings, and a lot of the old magic too. Damned exciting to see you in battle though. Personally I thought we made a good team; your lot for air cover and us ground sloggers doing what we do best.”

“Nightmare Moon and the Legion still lost though,” I said honestly.

“Huh! By trickery you mean,” Lord Maul huffed loudly and I had the horrible impression I’d put my hoof right in it. “That lot formally surrendered. Did you know that?” He nodded, waving a hoof at another of the familiar red and gold banners. “Their leader signed the surrender and we took our eye off the ball. Not surprising in the circumstances, but I warned them about treachery. I said they couldn’t be trusted. But did they listen? No, of course not! I even tried speaking to Colonel Fulminata. Now he was a stallion that knew his balta, I can tell you. But what could he do? If Nightmare Moon wasn’t going to listen to him she sure as eggs wasn’t going to listen to a junior officer like me now was she?” He snorted loudly, “Stupid old bat.”

Glimmer immediately sat up, radiating outrage, but Maul waved a hoof at her apologetically. “Pardon my language, Glimmer. I mean no respect to her divinity, but the truth is the truth. If she hadn’t interfered with our planning and operations we would have come down harder on the Celestians from the start and prevented any of those damned uprisings from happening. A few detachments in each town keeping an eye on things, a few examples made here and there, and they would have fallen in line soon enough.”

‘A few examples’. Public executions no doubt. I floated one of the snacks up and took a bite. “Celestia returned though, didn’t she,” I pointed out. “Her reappearance was a rallying point for the Celestian forces.”

“Well, yes,” Maul agreed. “But don’t forget that her rebel forces were already active in the field at that point, and when she came back she pretty much had a ready made army. The official surrender meant as much to that old crone as a fart in a shit storm. From there on in it was simply a matter of picking off our isolated garrisons one by one and eliminating our lines of communication. By the time we knew what was happening, it was too late. We were ill prepared, ill informed, and when those damned vessels came in to drop magical explosives on us, with no dragon cover we didn’t stand a damned chance.”

“Vessels?” I asked. “What, airships?”

“Airships?” Lord Maul frowned in thought for a moment. “Oh, you mean balloons? No,” he said with a shake of his head. “I mean ships, as in wooden sailing vessels, but flying through the air by magic. Most incredible damned things I ever did see. Armed to the teeth they were too.”

“I’ve never heard of flying ships!” I said in open mouthed amazement. “I’ve seen airships before, sure. Yaks use them a lot for trading runs, and there’s a fair few in Equestria too. But actual ships?” I shook my head. “It must have been a sight to see.”

“Not when they’re dropping bombs on your bloody head,” Maul sniffed. “Still, ingenious things. Apparently they were made by some long dead race or something.”

“Any idea who?” I asked, my interest piqued.

“Buggered if I know,” Maul replied huffily. “If I did I’d kick the crap out of them for inventing the bloody things.”

We both enjoyed a chuckle at that one. I was surprised to admit to myself that Lord Maul was a surprisingly eloquent and open sort of fellow, and as the brandy flowed I began to warm to this old warrior. “Did you know a pony by the name of Star Beard?” I asked.

“Star Beard?” Maul scratched his mane in thought. “I knew a pony by the name of Star ‘Swirl’ who swapped sides and shafted us good and proper. Where d’you think the Celestians got all that magical explosive from? Can’t say I… hang on… wait, yes! Yes, I remember now! Damn it all, how could I forget that!” Maul leaned back and laughed. “He was the alter ego of our good Colonel Fulminata. Silly old bugger.”

“I met the Colonel in the Withers,” I pointed out. “He’d had some dealings with Star Swirl the bearded after the war.”

“He did that!” Maul shook his head with a smile, “Let me tell you the story. First though, how about another glass?”

I smiled and floated the brandy bottle over to his empty glass, refilling my own and Glimmer’s. Throughout it all she barely said a word unless asked. Her glass, I noticed, only once needed to be filled.

Chapter Eleven - Unlikely Companions

CHAPTER ELEVEN

UNLIKELY COMPANIONS

I’d never seen so many thestrals! Dying out they may be in the Withers, but the town here in Moon Hollows was quite literally heaving with them. Despite the military precision of the town’s layout, the roads simply weren’t wide enough to accommodate the sheer numbers out today. Of course, since wearing spiked armour was apparently in vogue regardless of whether you were going to war or just going to pick up half a dozen eggs, you had to watch your footing carefully. Still, irrespective of my concerns, there was no pushing, no shoving, just a gradual flow of warriors that slipped through the narrower streets like butter through a hot fork. And there was another food reference. I was hungry. Again. Good grief, since arriving here in the Darklands I’d been eating like a horse. Oddly enough I did feel stronger with it, providing I ate regularly. Unfortunately for yours truly I was decidedly low on money so that caused a particular problem in acquiring any type of comestible. Few of the vendors took equestrian bits here – no surprise there – but since the majority of my packs had been left back with Briar, including my coin purse, I was as poor as the proverbial church mouse. Thank the goddess that Maul had come through with a chit for… something. Perhaps even lots of ‘things’, who could say? The thestral writing was certainly interesting to say the least, yet try as I might I couldn’t make mane nor tail of any of it. To describe it would be, how can I put it… ‘runic’? Yes, that was it - ‘Runic’. Seemingly random scratches on a wax tablet closed with another wax seal and the appointment of a ‘guide’ was all I’d been sent out with. What fun. Unfortunately the guide was anything but, and had barely said two words to me since we’d been paired up. After my audience with Lord Maul had come to an end I’d been ushered into a sparse, if admittedly well appointed room, where I’d been collected in the morning like a set of luggage. As for Glimmer, I hadn’t seen her since my audience with ‘the boss’ had come to a close. Now, bimbling along behind the thestral whose name I hadn’t caught, I was heading off on my exciting quest to find an egg. A bloody egg! Of all the things I ever thought I would be asked to find, the last thing I expected would be an... egg. Only the gods knew how I was going to get it down a mountain without breaking the stupid thing, let alone locating it in the first place, but perhaps that was the real test here. I only hoped it held more value than as a novel menu item for the delightful Lord Maul and his bony pals. Still, egg or not, it would serve a purpose, and that was helping Glimmer get out of the mess I myself had caused.

I was still moping when my guide, ‘Argh’ or something, stopped in front of a vendors stall, the occupant of which promptly provided me with a set of packs. Looks like somepony had called ahead then, I thought to myself as they were unceremoniously dumped on my back. They were typically thestral in design, black leather with white stitching, but they sat nicely next to my own small pack that I’d been carrying with my towel and toiletries. The next vendor provided us with food, water, rope, and all manner of items that he adorned me with to the point where my knees were nigh on buckling under the weight of it all. My guide, I noted with disgust, carried nothing more than his thestral Sunday best: the ‘ever in fashion’ armour, crossbow and axe. The fellow in question was busy clicking and hissing at the vendor and shoving the chit under his muzzle, leaving me free to take a look at the busy market place.

Just like when I’d first arrived in Moon Hollows, the art of trade was in full swing. The heat and bustle was something that would put any equestrian market to shame, that was for sure. Shouts, yells, and the general hubbub seeped into everything as effectively as the smell of spices that were both tantalising and exotically different to anything I’d experienced back home. It was definitely strange with the permanently dark sky here, giving one the impression of a night market like the ones we had back home towards the end of the year. No Hearthswarming Eve decorations here though. Meat, armour, leatherwork, metalwork, and all manner of items that were more in line with the requirements of an army than a family home, were the predominant items on sale. Still, it had a charm all of its own, and-

“Fairlight?”

I looked round to see a familiar face above a grubby leather apron. “Nimbus? Hello, how are you today?”

The stallion nodded, “Fine. Listen, I heard you were going off on some sort of quest or something. Is that true?”

“Well, yeah, of a sort.” I shrugged and gave an apologetic smile. “Looks like I’ve got myself into a bit of situation with Lord Maul. Got to go and get an egg would you believe.” I tried a smile. “Shouldn’t be too much of a hassle, but once I’ve done that I’m heading home. No disrespect, but home is where the heart is and all that guff.”

“He wants you to get an egg?” Nimbus asked frowning.

I nodded. “Yeah, from a rock apparently.”

“Wait… you mean a ‘Roc’?” Nimbus’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, “As in the Roc of Alegarth Mountain?”

“I didn’t know the name of the mountain, but I guess so,” I nodded.

The tall stallion shook his head, “Goddess preserve us...”

I raised an eyebrow, “And this is bad because…?”

“Do you know what a Roc is?” Nimbus asked.

“A bird of some kind I suppose,” I shrugged. “Probably something nasty. This is the ‘Darklands’ after all, so I doubt it’s going to be some kind of bad tempered parrot.”

Nimbus closed his eyes and sighed loudly, the sound clearly audible despite the noise of the throng. “Fairlight, this isn’t what you think it is.” The stallion fixed me with his red eyed gaze. “The Roc is a demonic bird,” he explained, “an eagle, and one that’s as big as the great hall itself!” I turned to look up at the upturned boat-like structure and tried to make some mental calculations. “That thing terrorised the local villages in the Withers,” Nimbus continued, “and now it’s here we give it a wide berth. Why in the name of the goddess did you agree to such a thing?”

“Because...” I face hoofed, “I didn’t have much of a choice, did I? It was either that, or… something worse.”

Nimbus stared at me for a moment before saying, “Just tell me you’re not going alone.”

I shook my head, “I’ve been given a guide. Right miserable sod he is too. That’s him there, arguing with the market chap.”

The black stallion narrowed his eyes, following my gesture towards my appointed guide. “I don’t recognise him,” Nimbus muttered. He turned back to me but kept a wary eye on the fellow. “Fairlight, I don’t like this. Something doesn’t feel right.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” I replied quietly. “I just want to get this over with and get home.”

“Yes...” Suddenly Nimbus stood up straight, his demeanour one that drew my full attention. “Wait there.” In an instant the young thestral vanished into the darkness of his forge and reappeared a moment later carrying a package on his back that looked very familiar indeed.

“Wait… now hang on!” I lifted a hoof, “I can’t-”

“You will.” Nimbus knocked my hoof and my protest away, shoving the package onto my back. Quickly, he began to strap it in place. “This,” he said, “is yours.”

“What do you mean ‘it’s mine’?” I breathed. “I can’t pay you for this, Nimbus, please-”

“There is nothing to pay.” The stallion stood back, still watching the guide warily. “Nobody else I know wants the thing, and I don’t want it hanging around the workshop forever.” He huffed under his breath. “Fairlight, this is yours. I already told you that a weapon chooses its owner. It resonates with the warrior’s heart, and some even believe it bears the soul of the carrier. With you, I saw how the blade shone when you held it. It looked… natural.”

“I don’t know what to say...” I babbled.

Nimbus smiled, “A ‘thank you’ would be enough.”

I felt my heart thump in my chest. I couldn’t believe this! This magnificent weapon, this wonderful piece of art made by the son of my old friend, given to me for nothing? I didn’t know what to say, except, “Thank you!” I said quickly, giving my mane a shake. “I don’t…” I sighed, trying to calm myself down. “Thanks. I mean it, really.”

“May it keep you safe on your path, my friend.” Nimbus stood on his hind legs and brushed his hooves on his apron. “Heads up, looks like your other ‘friend’ is looking for you.”

He was. I lifted a hoof and waved to the guide who grimaced noticeably at the sight of me. What a nice fellow he was! Miserable little… “Goddess bless you, Nimbus,” I said, but the apron wearing stallion was already disappearing back into the gloom of the forge. Goddess bless you. I smiled to myself and hurried up to where the guide was waiting with yet another pile of equipment.

Without even a single word from my miserable companion, yet more packs and general oddments I apparently ‘required’ were strapped onto my back. I didn’t get much of a chance to see most of it but I was sure it was all essential. By the feel of it I was damned sure they’d included the proverbial kitchen sink too. I grimaced bitterly to myself, trying to keep focussed on the task at hoof. My not-so chatty guide unsurprisingly walked away without another word, merely expecting me to follow like some bloody serf. Not that I exactly had anywhere else to go of course, nor for that matter, any idea where I was even meant to be going. I hope the guide knew the way. With a horrible sinking feeling I caught up with him, dodging past yet another heavily armed thestral and taking care not to impale myself on those ridiculous spikes. They were certainly intimidating, sure, but practical? I doubted it. I can recall a conversation I had some years ago with one of my friends in the Withers about this very subject. It was about the different types of armour worn by the various races, their form, function, and practicality. Spikes it seemed were as dangerous to the owner as they were to an opponent. A blade could catch on them and embed itself in the metal rather than glancing off. The analogy had been related to roofing slates, whereby the various plates should overlap one another so that they deflected an incoming attack instead of absorbing it. Personally I couldn’t give a monkeys what it looked like so long as it kept me intact and didn’t weigh so much I was virtually immobilized. Speaking of which, the next stop on our route took us to another stall that was piled high with - you guessed it – more spiked armour. My guide garbled something to the stall holder who stared at me as though I’d suddenly grown an extra head or something equally bizarre.

“Celestian?” he asked.

I shook my head, “No. Equestrian.”

The shop keeper huffed. “Not many of your kind visit these days,” he replied. “What are you, a wendigo?”

“Just a pony visiting friends,” I smiled.

I’d hoped to divert the conversation away from what and who I was, but to my surprise a spirited discussion then broke out between the stall holder and my guide, one which I half expected to end in drawn weapons if the waving of hooves and snorts were anything to go by. Thankfully this extraordinary display resulted in an exchange of coins and an agreement of sorts.

The stall holder nodded to my guide before turning to me. “Come with me,” he said, and jerked his for me to follow.

The stallion lead me into an area behind his counter which stank of oil and metal. Various pieces of crystal armour sat in stacks beside metal fittings, leather work, and the numerous tools of the armourers trade. My eyes must have been like saucers as I took it all in. In many respects it was like walking back in time to the days of the Legion and Nightmare Moon. From what I’d seen so far, thestral society was probably the same now as it had been then. There were no technological or magical advances in their society so far as I could tell, in fact everything about them was geared up for one thing - war. Good gods, if I’d been in charge of the herd, to have an army sitting on the other side of a portal like this would have had me looking for the nearest demolition team! But of course, this was normal for them wasn’t it. They were born to it, steeped in it from the cradle to the grave, and even in the afterlife that attraction to the ways of the blade never left them. It begged the question, if I’d been born into a wendigo family, would I have been much different? I was still staring at the armour as the stall holder began to pull the myriad of packs and items from my back.

“I can’t measure you when you’re covered in junk like that,” he grumbled. “You look like a tinker’s wagon.”

“I couldn’t disagree with you there,” I quipped.

The stall holder harrumphed as the last pieces of equipment were unbuckled and dumped unceremoniously onto the rough wooden floor. “You’re too round in the belly for regular armour,” he muttered half to himself. “Too round, too short, and flabby in the rump.”

“Thank you for such a kind observation,” I groused sarcastically. “I’m perfectly normal for a stallion I’ll have you know.”

“For a pony,” he replied drily. The armourer shook his head and sighed, the frown on his face displaying all too clearly his dismay at my physical dimensions. “When I was alive I would have had armour to fit you, but here… Hmm...” He grimaced, “I wonder...” I watched in silent fascination as the thestral knelt down and started to rummage under a large set of shelves. Pieces of armour, old tools, grubby rags, and other assorted items that clearly hadn’t been used in a very long time were pulled out until, finally, a large mass of stained and mildewed straps and plates of leather emerged into the light. They looked, and smelled, decidedly foisty to say the least. So much so that my poor nose wrinkled the second the mouldy aroma hit me. “Old, but should fit you,” the armourer said with a bob of his head. “I’ll give it an oil first, and then you can try it on.”

True to his word, the stall holder dumped the old set of barding on his bench and pulled the stopper from an earthenware jug he produced from a nearby shelf. He poured a little onto an old cloth and began rubbing the dark fluid into the leather. Whatever colour it may have once been had long gone, and the padding beneath the leather was heavily stained. But slowly, piece by piece, the tooled leather work began to come back to life. Closer inspection revealed the images of stars and moons impressed into the surface. They still bore faint traces of the white paint that had once picked them out. I suppose once upon a time it must have been quite impressive, but now after years of neglect it was a shadow of its former self. Still, so long as it kept me alive I could put up with some musty smells and faded designs. So long as I didn’t breath in too much...

“Lift your head.” With a flick, the freshly oiled leather barding swung up and landed over my back. It was surprisingly light and nothing like the steel plate armour I had worn in the herd. If anything I would say it had more in common with my barding in the watch. Nostalgia aside though, the smell of it was anything but pleasant and I let out a sneeze when the chamfron was fixed on my head. The stall holder ignored me as he continued to adjust the straps and buckles until, with a snort and a nod of his head, he stood back. “Good. Can you move around for me?”

All the parts were there. My rear was covered by a crupper; a set of articulated leather and thin metal plates that were delightfully light and flexible. The crinet that covered my neck was equally supple, not that I liked having my mane stuck beneath such a thing, but that was armour for you. It was just as well it had ventilation holes or it could get very hot and sticky back there. The peytral covering my chest and the saddle armour were a little snug, but still allowed for a good range of movement. I reared, stretching out my legs into a fighting stance, walked back and forth several times, and finally shifted my hind legs around as though readying to attack. Throughout it all the stall holder nodded to himself and muttered under his breath.

“Any discomfort?” he asked.

“None,” I replied. “It’s very comfortable actually.” The thestral smiled slightly and began to push the junk he’d removed earlier back under the shelving, his job done. “Is this thestral armour?” I asked.

“It was my son’s,” he replied simply. “He outgrew it.”

“So this is…”

“Colts armour? Yes.” The stall holder gave a short chuckle. “He was big for his age, but Equestrians are broader around the belly, so all in all it fits better than I’d hoped.”

I wasn’t sure how to take that comment. I’d always thought of myself as a fairly slim, if moderately muscular sort of fellow. Since passing over to the herd my ideal body type had been restored to all its former glory too. Okay, so perhaps I’d added a few pounds here and there due to the comfortable lifestyle and lack of exercise, but I was hardly what you’d call overweight. Right? Goddesses, maybe I was! Still, the armour fit me very well indeed and-

“Lift your foreleg.” The stall holder tapped me on the shoulder and to my surprise slipped a large scabbard under my leg and over my head. In no time at all he’d buckled the thing into position and had unpackaged my war-scythe, pushing it into place and sliding the keeper over the end so it wouldn’t fall out unexpectedly. “Got that from Thorn’s lad, did you?”

I nodded.

“He’s a good boy that one. I fought with his pa in the old days.” The stall holder smiled, “Good days they were. Good days...”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know your name?” I offered.

“Don’t need to know it,” came the cryptic reply. “Sometimes the less you know, the safer you are. Come on now, your friend is waiting for you.”

Some friend! The moody glower that met me outside was one that never failed to raise my spirits. I sighed and pushed aside the more sarcastic replies that were itching to be released, mentally shelving them in my subconscious for use at a more opportune time. Laden down once again I set off following the silent creature out along one of the main arterial roads leaving the thrum of thestral town life behind us. No sooner had we passed the town limits when the perpetual darkness of the rather aptly named Darklands began to swallow us like the maw of some primordial beast. And ‘beasts’ was something the land of the thestrals had in abundance.

I don’t think I’d ever get used to living here. As fascinating a place as it was, like many places I’d visited over the years it was nice to visit, but nicer to be going home. Unfortunately ‘home’ was beginning to look a damned sight further away than ever right then. I still had no idea where we were going, nor, probably more importantly, what the hell I was going to do when I got there. I’d never heard of a ‘Roc’, and I’m pretty sure I would have remembered if I’d been told about an eagle the size of a house, despite my inattention during class. Equestria was chock full of weird and wonderful beasts of every description, and goodness knows how many more lay undiscovered beyond its borders. Wendigo probably seemed pretty tame compared to some of the more exotic fauna, especially dragons and their like. I hadn’t been modest when I’d been speaking to Lord Maul either; that damned dragon had nearly had me, and it was only thanks to Shadow who’d stabbed the monstrous lizard in the head with a dagger which I’d been given by… one of Thalio’s comrades…
Now that was a question. Had they known I would need the thing? No, they couldn’t see into the future surely? If they could have then they would have known I was going to threaten them into leaving me alone in the Withers. Damn it all, was I overthinking things again? Out here in the middle of nowhere you had little to occupy you other than your own thoughts. And if there was one thing I’d rather not do it was to think too much, otherwise I’d be thinking about what awaited me back home: Meadow, a wrecked cottage, and last but not least what the soul hunters were going to say when I magically reappeared as though nothing had happened. Hell, I hadn’t even left a message to say I was going to be away for a few days! If Meadow came home and saw the damage who knows what she would think? She’d- Damn it! I was doing it again! Stop thinking about things! Clear your mind, empty your head of thought. Listen. Breathe. Calm… Calm…

I closed my eyes and pictured a clear blue sky. No clouds. No birds. No sound. A gentle breeze playing across my fur as I glided across the snow capped mountains of Everwinter. Everwinter… So beautiful, so unimaginably breathtaking in its majesty. My home…

My ear twitched. Somepony, or some thing, was approaching. I sensed it before I heard or saw it. Clearing my head of the clutter of memories and extraneous thoughts allowed my senses to stretch out, my keen hearing focussing on any potential danger. It was faint, but the sound was clear enough to identify. They were heading our way. Hooves, several sets of them, crunched along on black sand as breath steam in the cool morning air. Necks twitched, tails swished, leather creaked. Mentally I checked my own equipment. It wasn’t good; the heavy packs and straps constricted my body and restricted movement far too much. If we were attacked out here I wouldn’t stand a chance with all this baggage. I had to be free to move if I had any hope of using my weapon to be effective. Whether my thestral guide had picked up on our as yet unseen company up ahead I couldn’t say, but my hackles were up and my hooves itching as the possibility of battle loomed like a spectre from the depths. I could feel my teeth tingling and my brows drew down as my excitement began to rise.

“Why have you stopped, Equestrian?” the thestral asked.

“We have company,” I hissed low in my throat. “Ready yourself.”

Cursing under my breath, I didn’t have time to remove the equipment weighing me down. Encumbrance in battle meant death, and a reason why ambushing an army on the march was so effective. Canteens and packs could foul your weapons, straps catching your legs and holding you down, slowing you to the point of helplessness. I felt for the keeper holding my weapon in place and considered my options. I could flee, but the weight would slow me down. I could try to remove some of the packs, but without help that was going to take time I didn’t have. I felt for my scythe with my magic. If I could pull it free I could use the blade to cut the girth strap and with that gone the whole lot would fall away. Yes, that would do it. I had the scythe halfway out when the first of our visitors crested the rise. My guide had seen them, and yet strangely showed no wariness or surprise at their appearance. Quite the contrary, judging by his relaxed posture he seemed to know them. I decided to wait, but kept my weapon close to hoof just in case.

The party approached us from along the road with a steady and measured pace. There were five of them in total, all grey, all with black manes. Although I couldn’t make them out at this distance I knew the colour of their eyes would all be the same too. Wendigo. They halted several yards away from us before one of their number, a relatively tall figure with a long purple cloak and a small set of neatly made panniers, stepped forward positively oozing self confidence. He spoke quietly with the thestral guide, glancing in my direction several times. Although I couldn’t hear their words it was clear that their appearance had been anticipated. Without a word the guide nodded his head, turned, and then walked past me as though I didn’t even exist.

“You must be Fairlight, right?”

I nodded, “I am.”

The newcomer reached out a hoof. “The name’s Taurs, late of the Four Winds.”

I didn’t recognise the name but shook his hoof with a polite smile all the same. “Well met, Taurs.” I motioned towards his colleagues with a bob of my head. “Do wendigo normally travel in armed groups?”

“Huh?” He looked over his shoulder, “Oh them! Well, you can never be too careful here in the Darklands, am I right?” He chuckled throatily, “This isn’t the eternal herd, my friend, and here ponies don’t heal the way they do there. It doesn’t pay to be, shall I say, unprepared?” I gave a wry smile in response as he continued, “Forgive me for asking, but are you by any chance related to the Four Winds tribe yourself? I wouldn’t normally ask, but one hears things you know.”

I wasn’t sure what he meant by that, but I answered anyway, “My mother was a descendant of the tribe.”

“So you’re not a full wendigo, then?” Taurs asked curiously.

I shook my head, “Not pure bred, no,”

Taurs raised an eyebrow, “But you can change, right? I mean, you could before you died?”

“I could,” I admitted.

“I see, I see.” Taurs nodded to himself in thought. “You know, I recall hearing something about a pony calling himself ‘Lord Fairlight of the Four Winds’ recently. An unusual name for a member of the tribe to be sure, but perhaps not so for a, forgive me, half wendigo?”

“Some called me the Lord of the Four Winds,” I said calmly. “If you can believe that.”

“Oh, I can believe it!” Taurs chirped. “Some ponies will believe anything if the speaker is convincing enough. Not that I don’t believe you of course, Lord Fairlight.”

No, I’m sure he didn’t. Taurs’ smile sent shivers down my spine. I didn’t like the look of him or his goons, regardless of how impassive they may appear on the surface. The glint of weapons hidden beneath their cloaks and equipment was nothing unexpected here in the Darklands, but their presence along with their owners was more than enough to have me on my guard. “What’s going on here, Taurs?” I asked levelly. “I thought the thestral was guiding me.”

“He was,” Taurs nodded pleasantly, “up to here. Now, it’s our turn.”

“Your turn?” I tried to hide the concern in my voice. “This doesn’t make any sense. This is the thestral realm and-”

“Fairlight, Fairlight...” The grey stallion closed his eyes, shaking his head with a sardonic smile. “Are you always so untrusting? I can understand it coming from an Equestrian, this is a dangerous land after all, but from a wendigo?” He chuckled quietly, “We are your brothers and sisters. There is nothing to fear from your family.”

“Considering the circumstances I’m sure you can understand my trepidation,” I said, keeping a wary eye on the others. “Nopony told me I’d be changing guides.”

“And I suspect nopony told you that you wouldn’t either. Am I correct?”

“You are,” I agreed. “But omission doesn’t imply an intent.”

Taurs shrugged, clearly becoming exasperated with me. “You are free to try to find the Roc’s nest on your own if that is your desire,” he suggested. “Naturally we’d be happy to show you the direction you’ll have to take, but should you run into any trouble you would be on your own.” He sighed, shaking his head sadly. “I have to say, Lord Fairlight, that I had expected the sincere offer of help to one of our brothers would have been met with joy, not with… suspicion.”

At face value the grey stallion’s reply came across as open and genuine, but that nagging little voice at the back of my mind, so quiet of late, was now screaming its lungs out in warning. It needn’t have bothered, I already knew I couldn’t trust these ponies. I don’t know why precisely, it wasn’t as if they’d displayed any any outward signs of aggression towards me at all, but the looks in their eyes and their body language spoke volumes; they trusted me as just about as much as I trusted them. Taurs’ eyes gleamed in the dim light as he sized me up, waiting for my response. Something about this situation stank, and it wasn’t simply the fact that I hadn’t bathed since I’d washed Glimmer’s boyfriend out of my fur either. Finally, I decided that tact, not necessarily one of my strong suits unfortunately, was going to be the best option here.

“Forgive me, Taurs,” I said politely, “that was rude of me. I’d be happy to accept your kind offer of help.” I nodded, “Lead on… brother.”

For a split second I saw Taurs’ eye twitch. A nervous tick that I’d found many ponies shared when confronted with a situation that made them feel uncomfortable. At least for now however, Taurs and his crew had been pleasant and accommodating. But I’d be watching them. Very closely indeed.

“Excellent!” Taurs beamed, his discomfort vanishing as though it had been no more than a trick of the light. “Let us away then. Brothers! Come, let us welcome our lost brother back to fold.”

Goddess help me, it was all I could do to hold myself back from reaching for my weapon. But for once though I managed to control my impulsive defensiveness and accepted the pats on the shoulder and kindly smiles for what they were. Perhaps I had been a little over-reactionary. These stallions seemed genuine enough at face value, each and every one of them welcoming me with a warm smile, a shake of the hoof, and introducing themselves. Typically a lot of it went over my head I’m sorry to say. I never had been any good with names. Mostly I remember ponies as ‘Thingy’, ‘Whats-is-name’, or the all time favourite, ‘Mate’. Overused they may be, but they usually got me by for the most part. Now with all the weird and wonderful names of ponies in Equestria you would think that I would have been a little more conditioned to the strangeness of foreign names, such as thestrals for example. And for the most part that was true, but wendigo names were a world apart. Ponies tend to have names that are, for the most part, linked to their cutie marks. Don’t ask me how it works, it gives me a headache just thinking about it! But in fairness a picture stuck on your arse was one hell of a good memory jogger. My parents of course decided differently, but at least I wasn’t alone. Thestrals on the other hoof, now there was a real problem. They were all very similar in appearance, especially at a distance or at first glance, and physically tended towards variations on the theme of skeletal. It never ceased to amaze me how a creature could look emaciated and muscular at the same time, but they managed to pull it off. Appearance aside they did differ in other subtle ways. For example their eye colour, mane and coat shade, stature, teeth, and so forth. But most noticeable of all was the distinct lack of a cutie mark. It would have been a watch officers nightmare, especially on identity parades. I could imagine it now: No, his teeth were a little longer. I think his coat was blacker than that. No, not quite terrifying enough. That one looks like he had a meal last night. Goddess above! Back onto the subject of wendigo, I hadn’t exactly met that many outside of the memories I’d inherited. Now that I was in the company of five of them, here in the fur so to speak, it was amazing how similar they all were. All of them, myself included, shared the same grey coloured coat. We even had the same black mane and tail. But whereas these guys all had yellow eyes, mine were brown, the same as my father’s. I couldn’t see all of their cutie marks, but what I did see seemed to fit alright: snowflakes, images of mountains, and variations of cold bleak scenes told me all I needed to know. These five were the real deal, and me? Well, I was part wendigo wasn’t I? After meeting them I wasn’t so sure, and Taurs’ reaction to my being the ‘Lord of the Four Winds’ set a tiny seed of doubt in my mind that I didn’t like at all. There had been a hint, a near undetectable taste of mocking in his tone. It made my hooves itch.

“So, Maul asked you to lead me to the Roc’s lair, eh?” I asked conversationally as we trotted along.

Taurs took a swig of his wineskin before passing it to me. “Nah. We heard from one of our lads that he had one of our kin out on one of those stupid little errands he likes to dish out.” He shrugged, “We just decided to pop along and lend a hoof, so to speak. A few coins can do wonders to loosen tongues.”

“You paid off the guide?” I asked in surprise.

“Why not?” Taurs spat on the ground beside us. “Thestrals are living beings just like us. Metaphorically speaking.” The wendigo stallion smiled broadly, “Tell me, why did you come here? I mean, this isn’t a normal holiday destination for ponies is it?”

I shook my head, “You got that right. No, I have a friend here who died saving my skin in the Withers. She comes to see me from time to time and I decided to come and see her.” I shrugged it off as being of little importance. “I ran into her and her mate, and before I knew what was happening one of your chaps appeared and frog marched me over to see the charming Lord Maul.”

Taurs raised an eyebrow. “That would be Herath I presume?”

“And cue my happy little quest to find the Roc,” I concluded. “I take it you know Herath?”

“You could say that,” Taurs agreed with a sniff. “We go way back. He helps out at the hall these days. We… don’t talk much now.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” I had the distinct impression I’d walked into something between these two that was a decidedly taboo subject. “Are most of the wendigo here from the tribe of the four winds?” I asked, changing the subject.

“All wendigo are of the four winds,” Taurs stated levelly. “There are no other tribes.”

“None ever felt the desire to say, go off and do their own thing?” I asked curiously.

The stallion’s laugh made some of the others glance our way. “Why would anypony want to leave their family?” Taurs asked. “We are not like ponies who rush off to start their own families as soon as they are able. We stick together, generations of us, and hold fast to our traditions. If you are a wendigo yourself then you would have experienced some of this, yes?”

“I have the tribal memories,” I confessed, “but I never grew up in a wendigo home. In my time the fortress had gone to ruin and I only recently found out there was a community in the far northern mountains.”

“Did you try to find them?” Taurs asked.

“No.” I shook my head bitterly. “I never had the time, and even if I did I had no idea where to start looking. I expect that was by design too. Celestia has no love for our kind.”

“The white witch...” Taurs’ eyes narrowed and I detected a bitterness in his voice that hadn’t been there before. “Have you met her?”

“The Princess?” I looked up into the sky as memories of my rather less than amicable encounter with the white coated alicorn playing back through my mind like some old time movie reel. “Yeah, I met her,” I said quietly. “You could say we didn’t exactly see eye to eye.”

“No.” Taurs let out a mirthless laugh. “Neither did we.” He glanced up at the sky for a moment, apparently deep in thought. Eventually he asked, “How is it she did not kill you as she did with the rest of the tribe?”

“Who knows?” I replied honestly, “Maybe her lust for genocide faded over the last thousand years. I suppose I was lucky that she decided just to exile me instead.”

“But you escaped, yes?”

I nodded, “After a fashion. Being half drowned after crashing into a river is not my idea of escape, but I lived to tell the tale. For a while at least.”

Taurs smiled and nodded, apparently taking in everything I told him. Or rather didn’t tell him. I was careful to avoid many of the more specific details that could cause him to question me in more detail. “I know this must seem rude, Lord Fairlight,” he continued, “but may I ask how you died?”

“A big explosion,” I said with a shrug. “I was walking home and then there was this huge bang and off to the herd I go. Not much more to tell than that. The rest of my story is all sunshine and rainbows, as I’m sure you already know.”

The corner of Taurs’ mouth twitched, “Yes… Yes, we do.”

“How did you come to be here then, Taurs?” I asked polightly. “Did you escape the attack on the fortress?”

“Escape?” Taurs’ eyes narrowed and he huffed angrily. “Escape… If you can call fleeing like a coward from the white witch and her bastards to live the rest of my life as a bitless beggar wandering the land, fearing that at any moment I could be discovered and executed, an escape, then yes. I did escape.” He stared straight ahead into the distance along the dark dusty road, but I could see in the reflection from those bright yellow orbs that Taurs was seeing far more than just the stark bleakness of the Darklands. He was there, back at the end of the reign of the Four Winds. The last days of the wendigo. “My people broke apart,” he explained quietly, “fragmenting and vanishing into history like chaff from the thresher on a summer breeze. One by one we fled for our lives, our brotherhood, our family bonds, all forgotten in our desperation to save our own hides. All around me our people fell: the old, the sick, foals, colts, fillies… it didn’t matter to the Celestians. They killed any and all as the blood fury took them. The white witch and her vermin did their job well that day, and our fortress, our home, was destroyed beneath her fiery wrath.”

“But what of Maroc ?” I asked. “He’s with you now in the Darklands isn’t he?”

“Maroc?” Taurs’ yellow eyes flashed. “He fled the battlefield to save his hide like the rest of us.”

“He had to protect his family,” I reasoned calmly. I could sense the anger radiating from Taurs. It would certainly be interesting to see how he reacted to my questions, but I couldn’t afford to push him too far.

Taurs tossed his mane. “Oh, he did,” he hissed. “Maroc’s wife was killed by the witch, as was he himself, but his son managed to escape - escaped into the mists of history to die alone and afraid, constantly hunted by the Celestians who mercilessly tracked all of us down, slaughtering us one by one until even the very memory of our existence was expunged from the world.” The grey stallion closed his eyes. “Ironic don’t you think, that the princess of the sun should go to such lengths to snuff out the light from our lives.” He looked up at me. “And she never came after you, even after you escaped?”

“I think you know the answer to that,” I replied.

Taurs’ face broke into a grin. “I do.”

Suddenly a shout from up ahead brought our conversation to an abrupt close, and rather fortuitously shut down any further enquiries by Taurs into my life. The grey stallion waited beside me in silence as one of the other wendigo from our group hurried back to us. Black sand billowed up from the wendigo’s hooves, his equipment and packs bouncing on his back as he pulled up.

“Fire drakes,” the stallion breathed, “two of them.”

Fire drakes? An old name for dragons. Specifically ones that breathed fire.

“What are they doing?” Taurs asked.

“They’re circling the wood to the south of the road,” the scout replied. “They’ve got something in there they’re hunting by looks of it.”

“Can we avoid them?” I asked.

Taurs glanced to me and then his comrade, “Well?”

“We can move through the forest to the north,” the scout suggested hurriedly, “but it’s dangerously close to the Heart’s Abyss.”

“Hearts Abyss?” I asked. “What’s that?”

“A lake,” Taurs rumbled. “Not somewhere to venture lightly.”

“Couldn’t we just wait them out?” I asked. “If they’re hunting something they’ll give up eventually.”

“You obviously don’t know drakes.” Taurs’ voice was as calm as the surface as a millpond, as though any sudden move may bring the dread lizards down upon us in a storm of fire and fury. “If they don’t find what they’re hunting they’ll go on the rampage attacking anything in sight. Including us. Drakes don’t distinguish ponies from other food when the blood lust burns in their veins.”

Well I certainly didn’t fancy being on tonight’s menu, that was for certain! I decided to keep my ears and eyes open and my mouth shut from hereon. Considering the circumstances it was clear that my ‘guide’, for want of a better word, knew this world a damned sight better than I did. Besides, as melodramatic as Taurs came across, he was clear and precise in both his decision making and giving his orders. In short order the six of us were trotting in single file into the mass of white crystal trees off to our left, all the while ensuring that we kept the dragons out of sight and the rise in the land between us. To be honest, keeping as wide a berth between us and those enormous lizards as was equinely possible would definitely help me sleep better tonight. Unfortunately however, sleep was far from the minds of my guides who set a steady yet swift pace into the forest’s interior.

White light and flickers of intense rainbow colour assailed me the further we penetrated into the interior. It was as beautiful as it was disorientating, and I concentrated on the wendigo in front of me, keeping to their tracks and maintaining my distance. Not too near. Not too far. One by one we jinked around trees, jumping over fallen branches, all the time keeping up that same steady measured pace. After some time of this I noticed we were beginning to slow, and I could see why. Through the foliage, far to our right, I could see them: Dragons, or ‘Fire Drakes’ as Taurs had called them. There was only the odd fleeting glimpse, but I could tell there were two of them alright. One was as red as blood, the creature’s armoured scales glinting in the dark sky. The other was golden like the sun, bright and sleek in all its shimmering glory. The beasts roared, howled and hissed, occasionally emitting jets of bright yellow flame up into the black sky. I nearly collided with a branch more than once trying to steal glimpses of those magnificent creatures. Like most equines I had a healthy respect for dragons that was probably born more out of fear than anything else, but by the gods I couldn’t help but find them utterly enchanting. We had all been warned of the ‘glamour of dragons’ as foals, that intrinsic magic that dwelt within every one of them that could draw their prey to their jaws as easily as drawing breath. Even now I could still remember the story of the foal who had been so enamoured with one such creature that she fell hopelessly in love with the thing and would bring it cows from her parents field whenever it was hungry. One day there were simply no more cows left, and the filly trotted up to the fine scaled dragon. ‘I am hungry!’ said the dragon. ‘Where is my plump cow to fill my belly?’ ‘You have eaten them all, great majesty of the skies and land,’ the girl replied. ‘All I can bring you now is my undying love to fill your heart.’ ‘Then come,’ the dragon said, lowering his great serpentine head. ‘Bring me your love and fill my heart. And my belly.’ And with a final snap of his jaws, the great dragon swallowed her whole.

I’m not too sure what the moral of the story was meant to be. I’m sure it was something profound, it usually was, and just as usual, totally lost on me. What I took from it was simple: don’t walk into the mouth of a dragon, no matter how attractive their scales. I was rather attached to my limbs, and having them serve as a dragon’s toothpicks was something that I was keen to avoid. But, like ponies who stared at gruesome accidents in the street, I couldn’t help but stare in wonder at the amazing monsters.

Eventually, and rather mercifully, we came to a small clearing in the forest where my hosts decided to make camp. A camp, it quickly transpired, that I was bloody well carrying! Bedding rolls, kitchen accessories, food, you name it, was plucked from my back like one of those blasted bucking bronco games that Sparrow liked playing. Only this dumb mule had taken to his role willingly. Eventually I pulled the last piece of equipment from my back and dumped it in a pile for my new found ‘friends’ to pick through. Personally all I was really bothered about was some food, drink, my personal panniers which had my wash gear in, and Nimbus’ scythe. I played with the idea of taking the barding off but decided against it. If one of those dragons decided to come after us I wanted to be able to run freely. And one thing was for damned certain: I wasn’t going to be carrying all of this gear on my own in the morning.

I let them make the fire without me. The way I looked at it I’d more than done my bit by lugging their gear all the way here, so the very least they could do was put the blasted kettle on. Settling back onto my packs I let out a groan of relief and stared up at the stars high above us. As I lay there the night time sounds of the forest drifted over my weary body, carrying with them a comfortably cool breeze, lulling me to sleep despite the alien environment. Around me the wendigo went to work setting up their pickets for the evening, cooking food, and smoking some wonderfully fragrant tobacco. Gods, I didn’t care right then. There could have been a king’s banquet not two feet away and I would have gladly passed it all up for a few minutes of peace. Despite my hunger, sleep was definitely taking priority over all other concerns, and my eyelids were already drooping.

“Hey, you still awake?”

Oh well, so much for peace and quiet then! “Just,” I murmured. I looked up into the eyes of one of the wendigo stallions. “Klaxon, wasn’t it?”

“Nearly. It’s Clarion actually,” the stallion replied. “Here, I’ve brought you something to eat.” A wooden bowl containing something that smelled slightly spicy materialised along with a spoon. “You okay with spoons?”

In answer I levitated the spoon and bowl up as I shifted myself into a proper sitting position and could hold the hot food in my forehooves. “Can’t say I’m the best with magic, but I’ll manage,” I replied with a smile. “What is it?”

“Locals call it Glash,” the stallion replied pointing to the steaming mass of… something. “It tastes a lot better than it looks.”

Right then I couldn’t care less. I took a spoonful and closed my eyes as the meaty, spicy mix slipped down my throat and warming my insides almost immediately. “It’s good,” I said honestly. It really was too. “I’m guessing it’s best not to ask what’s in it?”

“Got it in one,” the friendly fellow replied. He glanced over his shoulder to where his comrades were seated before turning back to me, carefully keeping his voice low. “You’re Fairlight, right?” I nodded. “Listen,” he continued, “keep your head down and do as you’re told, okay? Don’t ask too many questions and keep yourself to yourself, yes?”

“Uh… sure.” I took another spoonful of my meal. “Am I missing something here?”

The stallion closed his eyes, “Look, just-”

“How’s dinner?” Clarion’s pupils went wide as Taurs appeared like a ghostly apparition behind him. His reaction was interesting, and something I would keep in my pocket for later rumination. Taurs’ smile on the other hoof did little to warm me to him, nor Clarion judging by the meek bow and the way he backed hurriedly away. “We try to eat well,” Taurs said pleasantly, “but what the Darklands has on offer is no substitute for proper wendigo fare.”

“I was just saying to Clarion how good I thought the meal was,” I replied. I took a sip of water from my flask, motioning towards my half eaten food. “Don’t talk much, do they?” I said indicating Clarion who was already back with his other colleagues by the fire.

“They talk when they have something worthwhile to say,” Taurs beamed. “It’s our way.”

“Well I appreciate the help to find this egg thing, Taurs,” I said politely. “As little as I know of the ways of the tribe, I’m sure I will be able to learn a great deal from being with you all.”

Did I imagine the sudden flash of anger that crossed Taurs’ face, or was it a trick of the light? His smile never changed, but his eyes, as yellow as the campfire and as bright as the sun, told me all I needed to know. His expression may have been one of charm and politeness, but I had the distinct impression that it was, like the old adage about beauty, a thin gloss covering the insidious flaws lurking beneath. Mind you I’d never say anything like that within earshot of Meadow; I valued my male ‘accoutrements’ quite highly and would definitely prefer them to remain where the gods had put them. Subconsciously I shifted my hind legs while continuing my meal. Interesting nervous tick Taurs had too. I’d be watching that.

“What do you intend to do when you have the egg?” Taurs asked quietly. “You must have some plans, yes?”

“I do,” I agreed politely. “I intend to get that egg back to Lord Maul so he make the worlds most wondrous omelettes, or whatever else he wants to do with the cursed thing, and then get the hell out of here the first chance I get.”

Taurs cocked his head to one side, watching me intently. “Don’t you have any desire to find out more about your people?” he asked. “About the tribe?”

I floated the bowl down and lay my spoon upon it. “Of course, but what can I do? I have no power here, nor any of us for that matter. And to be honest with you, Taurs, I don’t have the same connection to the wendigo as you. I wasn’t born a wendigo, it was something that was forced upon me by Fate, and if I had my life over again I would be quite satisfied with a good old fashioned quiet and boring life with my wife and child.”

“You would have given the power up?!” he asked incredulously, “You would turn your back on your heritage and your people to be… to be a mere unicorn?!”

“I have a family, Taurs,” I replied quietly. “The wendigo are your family. Mine… mine are just ponies. Like me. Like I am now.”

Taurs backed away a step and tossed his mane, staring up at the stars. “You do not have the soul nor the passion of a true wendigo, Fairlight. I can see that in you, and I can also see the truth of what you say. Our race has all but died out in Equestria. The blood of our ancestors has thinned and the magic become stale and weak. How can a pony born of such a land be called a wendigo when he knows nothing of the strife of our people? To be one with us is to know the snows of winter, to sing with the winds and feel the gusts of the world beneath your wings. To hold such power, such grace and such sublime majesty, is not for any mortal pony to hold in their hooves.” He shook his head and closed his eyes in sorrow. “It is too much to ask of one not born of the tribe. One cannot mourn for what one has never known.”

I leaned back on my pack, taking in the night air and enjoying the lingering taste of the stew. “Thank you for the meal, Taurs. It was excellent.” There was no response, nor barely a sound as Taurs the wendigo walked away.

********************

Fairlight.

Fairlight wake up.

Come to me.

Fairlight.

“Hmm… Wha-?” Who the hell was that? I turned over, snuggling back into the warm blanket. I must have been imagining things. The creatures of the forest could play tricks on you, and who knew what oddities lived out here?

Fairlight. Come to me.

That voice… Mum? I sat up suddenly, shaking the last motes of sleep from my weary mind and rubbed my eyes. I wasn’t hearing things was I? Bloody hell, things were bad enough without starting to hear voices too. Around me the clearing was silent, and even the sounds of woodland creatures had all but vanished. The fire had burned low, casting shadows over the four figures sleeping beneath their own blankets whilst a fifth sat drinking a cup of tea beside a loaded crossbow.

Fairlight.

I definitely heard it that time! I was out of my blanket like a shot, looking around me to try and- There! A grey shape, standing beside a tree. Her coat was pale grey with a long black mane and tail. There was no doubt she was a wendigo, but what was she doing out here in the forest? Tentatively I glanced round at the guard. He hadn’t seen me, and I intended to keep it that way. And so, carefully and quietly, I crept towards the figure.

Come to me.

How was she doing that? The mare wasn’t using words so much as what I could only describe as some form of telepathy. I’d met some unicorns who could do that of course, but it was a highly advanced skill and not of much use if the recipient couldn’t respond the same way. It had its uses though, and the watch had utilised talented unicorns like this for undercover work on more than one occasion. Personally I found it a little unnerving that somepony could tap into your mind like that, but after living around thestrals it did seem a little hypocritical of me to complain about ponies doing something similar. By comparison this mare’s words were as soft as eiderdown and just as alluring and gentle, appearing in my head like fluffy clouds of light. Thestrals communicated by battering their words into your skull together with a barrage of loud clicks and hissing noises. Thank the gods that there were those, like Star Beard, who’d learned to communicate with ponies normally. I don’t think my brain could handle long stays amongst those enigmatic creatures without turning to mush.

Come to me.

Was that music? No… singing. A faint wordless song of the wonderment of nature, of life, and the letting go of all the pain and suffering I had endured these last few years. It was all around me, caressing my heart, soothing my worries and fears away until they were as insubstantial as a breath upon the wind. It was... beautiful. Indescribably wondrous colours ghosted through my mind, calling to me, drawing me to her. I was enchanted by this mysterious mare, by her song, by the promise of gentleness and the warmth of undying love. Somewhere in the quiet recesses of my mind the soft give of sand beneath my hooves tingled my senses like a lovers caress. I couldn’t think of that now. To think of anything else would take me away from the mare and her song. She was so lovely. She needed me. Desired me. I was so lonely, so empty, yet she could fill that emptiness, that void that longed for her embrace and love.

Come to me.

I was so near now. So, so near. I could see her clearly, but my eyes were incapable of taking in the magnitude of such feminine beauty. Silently I cursed myself; how could my eyes be so useless?! How could I bear to even think of approaching such a sublime creature as this with my dirty, foul body? And yet she called for me. And only me.

Fairlight. Come to me.

Yes. Gods, yes! My heart was beating faster and faster as I drew nearer to her, the life giving precious organ nearly hammering itself out of my chest in the desperate, mad rush to reach her. Damn it all, why couldn’t I move faster? WHY?! And then... then it all unfolded before me. There she was, the lady of the lake, an image of all the radiance and magnificence of the infinite universe made flesh. She stood on the shoreline, the ink black water lapping at her perfect hooves as her eyes, as yellow as the sun and as perfect as the fact of the goddess, watched my approach. Her features were as pure as the fresh fall of snow, her smile a treasure beyond worth, and one that was far beyond the comprehension of any who would so much as dare to gaze upon such immaculate perfection. And then, as the sun rises in the morning to chase away the chill darkness of night… her eyes met mine. She smiled. I had never felt such joy, such complete, unadulterated bliss. I was melting, melting into the gaze of a heart filling love as she called to me, calling me to her.

Fairlight. I knew you would come.

I didn’t know her, and yet on some imperceivable level I did. None of it made sense. Why would a mare be here on her own in such an alien and inhospitable environment? I shook my head. It didn’t matter. Such thoughts were an unwelcome intrusion into the world where she and I alone belonged.

Fairlight.

I couldn’t tear my gaze away from her eyes, those gorgeous yellow orbs of pure love and light. I could feel myself slowly drifting away, inch by blissful inch, gradually becoming one with with the goddess of peace. Then… darkness engulfed me. A second, maybe no more than a breath, and I was flying. I was flying! Oh goddess, at last. At last! I breathed out long and slow, clearing my lungs ready to take in the deliciously fresh air of the mountains. Instead, all I got was a mouthful of water, sand, and the shocking terror of drowning. My vision swam with impossible shapes of shadowed darkness as I thrashed about in a blind panic, the peace I had felt only a heartbeat ago vanishing like the mare. Water filled my ears and mouth, sending shock-waves of fear throughout my body. Any attempt at conscious thought was immediately overridden by the desperate desire to survive. I had to reach air. I had to breathe! Something grabbed me roughly around one of my hind legs, hauling me down and then, abruptly, it released me.

I broached the surface of the water like the proverbial cork from a bottle and gasped in that wonderful cold air. Coughing out the water from my tortured lungs I struck out for the land without pausing to look back. Half hidden by the splashing water, blue and purple light flashed and burst along the shoreline in a blinding display of magic, illuminating shadowed figures who darted here and there amidst the most ungodly screams and neighs I’d ever heard. All of it meant nothing to me right then however, as my mind was filled with only a singular all encompassing need - to reach solid land at any cost. To that end I swam as hard as I ever had in my life. Something brushed my side but I carried on, kicking, pushing forward, until one of my forehooves finally hit bottom. One more. One more push would be all it needed... Desperately I heaved myself out of the cloying ink black fluid, my soaked cloak adding to the weight. I pulled it free, the clasp snapping off and dropping wetly to the ground a moment before my body gave up and I collapsed on the sand, coughing and retching.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to stop the awful stinging of the water before opening them once more to the scene unfolding a hundred yards along the lake’s shoreline. There was something… something large, near spherical so far as I could tell, thrashing and writhing in a mass of sickly white translucent tentacles in the water. Magical fire flashed so bright it made afterimages on my vision before searing across the things body. I coughed out another mouthful of water and wiped my muzzle, looking on in horrified amazement. The thing… the monster, was unlike the lake demons I’d seen before. This one was almost round in shape, sporting gills, fins, and long thin tentacles that lashed out towards its attackers like whips. But those teeth… by the gods, those teeth! A mouth that was almost half the beast’s overall size glinted and snapped, the blood chilling sight made all the more terrible by the luminous magic of the unicorns on the shore. It was Taurs and his wendigo. The equines ran, running left to right, confusing the beast into making wild strikes at nothing more than wet sand. Again and again it lashed out, and again the magic burst over its hide, the sizzle of magic mingling with the shrieks of pain from the monster.

And here I was, doing nothing.

A quick shake and I was off, dashing over to the campfire I could still see faintly through the trees. My scythe was there. If I could reach it I could-

“What the hell are you doing?!” It was Taurs.

“I need a weapon to fight!” I spat, rounding on him. “I have to-”

“You don’t have to do anything other than keep out of our way!” The unicorn glared at me intensely. “You caused this, and now we have to take care of it. And we can do that a damned sight better without you getting under our hooves!”

“What are talking about?” I managed. “I can’t just-”

“Just keep out of our way and keep your damned mouth shut, Celestian!”

I stared in shock at the retreated form of Taurs as he galloped back to his fellows. I was soaked, shaking from both the exertion and the adrenalin that was still searing through in my veins. Yet as exhausted as I was, I could still fight. I blinked away the water from my eyes. Along the shore the fighting continued unabated, but it was clear that despite the injuries the creature was receiving from the intense magical attacks it was doing little to slow the thing down. I watched in horror as a tentacle whipped out and effortlessly swept one of the ponies from their hooves. In an instant the rest concentrated their energies and the beast reeled back, shrieking as the combined bolts of magical power slammed into its head. I didn’t stop to watch any more. To hell with Taurs and his attitude, there was no way in hell I was going to sit warming my arse by the campfire while these ponies, these wendigo, fought for their lives. And what the hell was that about me starting it anyway? There was that grey mare, and… oh, goddess, what had happened to her?! Desperation sped my gallop to the clearing. There was no time for barding, no time even to try and dry off. But there it was - my scythe. A garden implement it may have been based upon originally, but there was no doubting the damage such a magnificently made long bladed weapon could inflict upon an enemy. Snatching up the case and baldric I slung it over my shoulder and began my run back to the fray.

********************

Battle. The sounds, the smells, or the location may differ, but the fear… that is one thing that never changes. I had been told by veterans in the watch when I was no more than the latest recruit to walk through the door, that the mark of a pony who is brave, truly brave, is that they were able to accept and overcome their fear and do what they had to do regardless of their natural instincts for self preservation. Fear is a reaction by your mind and body that tries to override all else to preserve the self - a kind of ‘common sense’ fail safe mechanism if you will. And right now my mind was screaming at me to stop what I was doing and put as much distance between myself and the hideous creature as I could. I huffed angrily, pushing through it, continuing my gallop towards the melee as I drove down the desire to turn around and flee. Many ponies experienced this. I had seen it first hoof in that blood soaked warehouse back when this nightmare began. None of them had been cowards. Not one. But there comes a time when the blood, the screams of pain and moans of the dying, can break you. Can break anypony. My motivation had been to save my friends, and that most primitive of motivations that can grip your heart I a grip like iron – revenge. I wanted to strike back at those who had murdered my family, who had taken everything from me and left me as nothing more than a broken and bleeding wreckage of who I once was. They had created what I had become. But what was I? A dead wendigo in the afterlife? Yes… Yes, that much of it was true. And yet despite everything Fate had thrown at me, in spite of all the pain and suffering I had endured these last few years, I had been able to build a life for myself with the help of my beloved wife and daughter. Together we had created in the land of the dead that which we should have had in the world of the living. The three of us had crafted a haven for ourselves, far away from the pain and misery of our last days in Equestria.

But it hadn’t been enough.

The spectre of my past continued to haunt me, even now, sitting there on the edge of my consciousness, watching me. Waiting. Even sleep provided no escape from the continual reminders of what had happened, what could have been, and the eternal question: could I have prevented this? Was there something I could have done that would have avoided such unimaginable misery being unleashed upon my family? However nothing I had done since those terrible days had done anything to change the cold reality of what had happened, nor reveal the true motivations behind it all. Somepony had wanted me dead, and had set those sadistic monsters upon us to ensure their will was carried out as brutally, and as cruelly, as possible. In the end I had killed them, and I had become a monster to do it. But the mastermind was still there, laughing at me from the shadows. Oh, they thought they had won. They were probably dancing on my family’s graves right this very minute. Perhaps in a sense they really had won. After all, my family and I were dead and they were still in the land of the living. For now at least. In any case, how could the dead take vengeance upon the living even if they wanted to? How could I, a mere pony, a shade of the afterlife, return like some revenant from beyond the grave to wreak my revenge upon those who saw my beautiful wife and daughter as nought but specks of dust that could be wiped away with the brush of a hoof?

Damn them.

Damn them all.

If I had to become a monster once more, then I would. I would do whatever it took to bring those animals to heel and ensure that they knew, unequivocally, the full weight of my vengeance. My blade would flash like silent lightning through the night, the runes glowing as they drew the blood of my enemy, leaving them bleeding and broken before me. And I would smile, smile as I stared down into their eyes as I drew the last vestiges of their escaping life energy to nourish my own. Then… Then they would with know with dread certainty their end was coming, whilst I fed upon their still warm carcases, feeling their life leaving their body inch by rotten inch. Ah, the peace of forever, the cool wash of the northern winds upon my fur, my mane tousled by the wind. My blade and I were as one, dancing the dance of death and sorrow. I was the bringer of the snows and the reaper of souls. I was the harbinger of the world’s doom, and woe to those who brought my sight to their miserable lives. I relished the sounds of their screams. I laughed aloud to the gods of old as the warm iron tang of blood sprayed across my face and I tasted their fear. I was the wind. I was the wendigo of the mountains holds. I was… death.

********************

I stood leaning against my scythe upon the black sand of the shoreline, breathing heavily. Around me the wendigo stood in silence, staring at me as though I were… I don’t know. Did it matter? A throaty chuckle emanated from my throat, drawing more wary glances from the party before me.

“Fairlight?”

“Clarion?” I took a deep breath and faced the wendigo. “Are you injured?”

He shook his head, “No. Are you?”

I too shook my head and smiled broadly, “No, brother. Any casualties?”

“No more than a few scrapes and bruises, thank the goddess.” Clarion flicked his head towards the mangled blubbery mess that was steaming in the night air. “No thanks to that thing.”

“What is it?” I asked, “Some kind of lake demon?”

The lumps of neatly severed flesh lay scattered like tar soaked white ribbons, silently drifting back and forth with the lapping of the lake water against the sand. “The thestrals have a name for them,” Clarion replied gravely, “but we call them Anglers.” He turned to follow my gaze. “They’re able to tap into the memories of their prey and lure them towards the water where they become the beast’s next meal.”

The grey mare. I closed my eyes, murmuring, “My mother...” I felt a shiver run through me. The thought of that sickening creature leafing through the memories of my own mother made me want to vomit. It had defiled me. It had defiled the memory of somepony who would always hold a special place in my heart, and it had paid the price for its supreme arrogance. I was pleased it was dead. But now, with the taste of the beast’s blood in my mouth, I wanted more.

“Is that who you saw,” Clarion replied quietly. It wasn’t a question. “Damned monsters.”

The crunching of sand announced the arrival of Taurs and the rapid departure of Clarion. “What was that?” he rumbled. “I told you not to interfere!”

I closed my eyes and fought down the bubbling urge to cut him down where he stood. “I didn’t interfere, Taurs,” I replied levelly. “I defeated an enemy. That was all.”

“You damned fool!” The grey stallion rounded on me in a frothing burst of anger, “You have a duty to Lord Maul to find the Roc’s egg and get it back to him. It is my job to keep you alive until you have completed that duty. When you’ve done that you can damned well-”

“Be silent!” My mane bristled as I whipped my head round to face him eye to eye, causing Taurs to choke on his words in surprise. “Don’t you dare lecture me on what I can and cannot do,” I snarled, “I have no time for the pathetic fancies of fools nor the tantrums of foals who know nothing of the world save their own selfish desires. I have walked the line between life and death. I have brought tyrants to their knees and bathed in the tears of their children as I slew their parents asunder. I am the one who walks in the mountain snows and the nightmare of those who know of the winter that approaches.” My voice lowered, the words coming from a place I had thought long closed off from me. “Do no presume to speak to me like one of your underlings, wendigo.” Slowly, I turned away, slipping my scythe back into its scabbard. “One more thing, Taurs,” I whispered so as to avoid the others hearing me. “If you ever call me a Celestian again, I will separate your head from your body as swift as the mountain lark takes flight, and you shall hear the song of your last breath upon the wind as you become no more... than a memory.”

Taurs stared at me with his large yellow eyes but said nothing, leaving me to walk away to catch up with Clarion. The fellow had started cutting chunks of meat from the corpse of the anger and looked up at at the sound of my approach. He seemed a little unsettled, but still nodded politely to me.

“Is that thing edible?” I asked.

Clarion snorted bitterly, “Barely, but if it’s well seasoned we can use it as fresh provisions for a couple of days to help preserve our dried food rations.” He pointed to a pile of purplish globs of meat that looked about as appetising as dog food. “Glands,” he explained. “We can can squeeze them to make Balta. Ever tried it?”

“Ha! Yes, I’ve tried it.” I sat down in the sand next to him and rolled my shoulders. They were aching a little from the exertion, but it would pass. “It’s a thestral brew I believe. The swine near poisoned me with it the first time.”

“Ah, thestrals. Always the jokers, eh?” Clarion chuckled and passed me a flask. “The legion brought it with them to Everwinter back in the day. We learned the recipe from them, but I suppose it’s not really a drink most Equestrians would drink voluntarily anyway. Even if they didn’t mind how it was made.”

“You got that right!” I took a short pull on the flask and was pleasantly surprised by what I found. It was Balta certainly, a little sharper than I remembered, but with a hint of herbs and a sweet honey and heather undertone.

“Good?” Clarion asked.

“Damned good!” I said, taking another swig at my new friend’s encouragement. “That’s a lot better than the usual rough stuff.”

“Cold filtered for that smoother taste, right?” Clarion grinned. He returned to his meat carving as he spoke. “We had to modify it a little for equine tastes. Thestrals have taste buds as hard as their armour, but for a wendigo, or a pony for that matter, it was like drinking toilet cleaner.” Clarion closed his eyes and took a deep breath, sighing it out into the night air as he worked a crick out of his neck. “A lot of the guys don’t like to admit it, Fairlight, but being a wendigo doesn’t mean we’ve completely changed. You know that as much as anypony.”

“You seem to know a lot more than you’re willing to let on,” I said quietly.

“Do I?” the grey stallion sniffed. “No more than anypony else in the tribe, really. And even that I’m beginning to doubt.”

“How so?” I asked.

“After tonight?” He continued to work but looked up at me askance, “How did you learn to fight like that, Fairlight? I’ve never seen anypony fight like that except…” He tailed off.

“Except?”

“Except the elders.” Clarion shook his head solemnly, “Most have gone now anyway. I’d thought all of them in the mortal realm had, certainly.” He frowned, cutting through a particularly tough piece of sinew. “Who was your master?”

“Master?” I shrugged, “I never had one. I had some rudimentary weapons training in the watch, but that was mainly crossbow, short sword, and various ways to club some poor bugger between the lugs. Nothing exciting that was for sure.”

“You never had weapons training?” Clarion asked in surprise.

“I… No.” I sighed and fidgeted with my baldric. Damn it, I could kill for a smoke right now. I shoved my hooves into my lap and took a long cleansing breath, breathing it out into the still night air like small clouds scudding across the mountaintops. And then it came to me, “I had these memories,” I began. “They were something I… ‘inherited’ I suppose, when I merged with the spirit. Same as you guys.”

“Same as us?” Clarion snorted loudly, “Hardly!”

“I don’t understand,” I said in genuine confusion. “I thought all wendigo received the memories of their ancestors?”

“Some, but not all.” Clarion raised an eyebrow and watched me as though measuring me for a suit. Or a box. Preferably the former. “Only those with the blood of the first born have that gift.”

“Blood of the first born...” I looked away, trying to think back to what Maroc had told me. But as for what this ‘blood of the first born’ was, I had no idea whatsoever. “I’m going to have to confess my ignorance here, Clarion,” I said honestly.

The grey stallion smiled and gave a faint huff, returning to his meat carving. “They’re the ones that can trace their lineage back to the founder; the very first pony who joined with one of the spirits and became a wendigo.”

“Can’t be that many of those around then,” I added with a faint smile.

“You’d be surprised.” Clarion chuckled as he worked; a pleasant sound in the still night here on the edge of the lake. “The founder had many foals. And many wives too. Their children grew to have foals of their own, and so on and so on down through the ages. There were many other bloodlines in the early years of our people of course. There were plenty from amongst the earth ponies and pegasi who joined us simply to escape the petty squabbles and in-fighting of the three tribes. Those brave souls undertook the journey to find us and to join our people where they could enjoy a life of true freedom, as the goddess desired for all ponies.”

“But it was only the unicorns with their magic who were able to bond successfully with the spirits, right?” I added.

Clarion nodded, “True. But we welcomed them all as children of the moon goddess. We found work for those who could not join: in the nurseries, gardens, kitchens, and so on. Many an earth or pegasus mare foaled a unicorn who went on to become a wendigo. We never treated any pony as lesser simply because they lacked magic.”

“That’s… surprisingly noble,” I replied quietly.

“Is it?” Clarion shrugged. “It was the right thing to do, that’s all. We’d had enough of squabbling, deceit and war. Why would we leave all that misery behind only to promote it amongst ourselves?”

“And the images?” I asked. “The memories?”

“Well that’s easy. You must be a descendant of the founder,” Clarion said in a surprisingly matter of fact manner. “That’s all.”

That was all?! I didn’t know what to say except, “Oh, um… Sure.”

Well, if there was one thing to be said about my enigmatic companion, it was that he certainly knew how to deflate a guy. Mind you, what was I expecting him to say? That I was what, royalty or something? Yeah, right! Wendigo didn’t even have royalty anyway, at least not in the traditional sense of the word. Maroc and his wife had been the nearest to it, and even then they seemed far more laid back than any of the nobility I’d ever encountered. And I’d met a lot in my travels. Now that I thought about it I’d never quite worked out how the Equestrian system worked either. We had the lesser nobles of course: dukes, earls, and so forth. Then you had the posher titles like prince, princess, and so forth. And then finally you had the princesses: Celestia, Luna, and that salmon pink one, whats-her-name, Candace? No, Cadence, that was it. All three of them alicorns. Now Prince Blue Blood, he was apparently related to them somehow, but he was certainly was no alicorn. All very strange if you asked me. Personally I couldn’t give a toss about any of them, providing they left me alone. So far as I knew though the wendigo system was purely based on one guy or gal, maybe both, holding the title of Lord or Lady, and with it the reins of the tribe. Or at least there had been. Maroc was now as dead as me, and I hadn’t seen hide nor hair of him since his delightful little reveal to me about his damnable offspring’s antics.

“Clarion?” I asked. “Who’s in charge of the wendigo here? Maroc? I don’t know much about-”

The grey stallion flinched at my words like a scalded cat, “For the goddess’s sake pipe down!” He stared around us in alarm before gradually calming down enough to catch his breath. “Look, Fairlight, please, just don’t mention his name, okay? I’ve got enough going on right now without… without dealing with that too!”

“Taboo subject, eh?” I muttered.

“One that could get your throat cut, yes.” Clarion slipped a last piece of meat into the wooden bowl which he began to salt. “I can’t talk now. Maybe later. But Fairlight, remember what I said earlier. Whatever you do don’t upset Taurs, and be damned careful what you say to him. For now, I think you’d best go and dry yourself off by the campfire and get some rest. You look like crap.”

“Gee, thanks.” I rose to my hooves, noticing the warm damp patches on my coat. Clarion was right; If I didn’t dry off properly I could get rain scald, skin sores, or worse. Thank the gods I had a towel in my pack - one of the few things I’d managed to save that was of any use. “Thanks, Clarion. You take care of yourself too, yeah?” I clopped him on the shoulder.

“Yeah...” The stallion looked up at me with a humourless smile, “Goddess go with you, brother.”

Beside the fire one of the wendigo was tending to his comrade who in turn glared over at me with unadulterated loathing as I approached. He had been hurt helping me, and no doubt blamed me for his bandage swathed legs. Unfortunately it was made quite clear by the cold glances I was receiving that I was far from welcome amongst them. Taurs too ignored me, far more interested in packing up equipment than talking to his equestrian guest. I couldn’t blame them, I’d probably feel the same too if the new guy had caused friends of mine to be hurt. I glanced up at the sky. It was the small hours of the morning and nopony bothered even trying to get back to sleep now. The balta was being passed round, but I passed. Instead I occupied myself by drying myself off and sorted out the rest of my equipment ready for the march ahead. Thankfully, despite its dip in the lake, my hastily recovered cloak was a little damp but would still be serviceable so long as I dried it carefully. Of that, I was very grateful indeed. If the mountains were anything like the ones in Equestria the protection a good cloak could provide would be invaluable, even if I didn’t feel the cold as much as I once did. A rummage inside my packs revealed a neatly parcelled weapons maintenance kit which had Nimbus’s handiwork all over it. There was a bottle of oil too, plus a cloth, a small whetstone, grinding stones, and a variety of other tools for the armourer on the go. For such a freshly made weapon I doubted it would need sharpening any time soon, so decided on a simple clean followed by a light oiling.

As I sat on the broken log by the fire, the writing on the blade seemed to glow with its own warm inner light, complementing the flickering yellow flames. It truly was a thing of almost otherworldly beauty and a testament to its creator’s skill, despite being a weapon designed to kill. In truth the blade needed no work at all, the blood of the angler having slid off the highly honed and polished surface of its own accord. Even so I dabbed the oil onto the cloth and ran it along the blade carefully, using my hooves rather than my magic. I’m not sure why, but it seemed right somehow, as though I were honouring this implement of death for its work in saving my life and paying homage to its victim. My victim. Slowly, as gently as falling snow, it began to dawn on me what I had done. Try as I might I couldn’t recall much of the actual fight with the angler at all. This wasn’t unusual of course; traumatic events and the excitement of battle often left you with fragmented and fractious memories. In this case however I had felt like… like I had when I was in my wendigo form. Foolish I know, but that feeling of being light as a feather, as swift as the wind, and the song… oh, the song! The music of war and the dance of blades I remembered like the caress of a long lost lover. I wondered how much of me had acted on sheer instinct rather than conscious thought. Curious. Very curious. Part of the wendigo must still remain within me after all. And if indeed that were true, it shouldn’t come as such a surprise. I had only lost my wendigo power, not my mind.

Breakfast arrived just as I was putting my war scythe away, momentarily drawing the gaze of the warrior who all but threw the plate of stew at me. I thanked him of course, but he was already walking away. Charming. Still, the stew was quite palatable, and by the taste of it part of the victor’s spoils from earlier. I lifted the spoon in my magic, allowing the long white strips of flesh to slide from it back onto the plate as the steam drifted up into the chill morning air. I shrugged and took a mouthful of it anyway. I doubted I’d miss the taste by the time I got back home and was able to eat normal food again, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to let Meadow know what I’d been up to if I could help it. And I hate to admit it, but she’d been right. The danger I’d been plunged into after joining up had been far above what I’d naively thought would happen. Celestia’s arse, it had been a roller coaster of near death experiences since day bloody one! Death, it seemed, really could come for you twice. As if once wasn’t bad enough! There were no second chances for me now, that was damned certain. Death in the afterlife meant the loss of everything: self awareness, memory, love, life… everything. To be reincarnated was to wash away all it meant to be Fairlight, and from that there would be no going back. Goddesses above, it didn’t bear thinking about.

“Gear up, we’re moving out in ten minutes.” Taurs’ voice rumbled out, accompanied by the sound of the fire being doused a moment later.

I let out a sigh. Here we go again... Still, at least my fur was dry now, and considering the mornings unexpected dip I forgo the usual wash. A quick brush of the teeth, my barding snugged into place, packs on my back, I was ready as I would ever be. Thankfully my load was now a fraction of what it had been. One of the wendigo, either Taurs or more likely Clarion, had already distributed the extra equipment I had been carrying amongst the others. I’ll admit I was surprised by that too. I’d assumed I was being looked at as the groups pack-mule. Had I actually gained some level trust and respect amongst this curious bunch of grey stallions? Nah, who was I kidding! Of the five of them, one was a bombastic arsehole, one only spoke to me when said arsehole was out of earshot, and the other three ignored me completely. How jolly pleasant. Miserable buckers…

Chapter Twelve - The Fog

CHAPTER TWELVE

THE FOG

Walking. Endless, endless walking. Bloody hell, how far was this damned mountain? All I could see was mile after mile of sand, forest, forest and sand, or for a little bit of interest – water so black it was near invisible against the sand. How exciting! Gods above, this took boredom to a whole new level. We’d been walking for days now, with stops along the way that were little more than brief toilet breaks and cat-naps. The incessant trudging was apparently taking its toll on the rest of our party too, as barely a word had been said between us since the incident by the lake. Even Clarion walked with his head low now, his hooves plodding along woodenly as they thumped down one after the other. Damn it all, I don’t about his hooves, my own felt like they were about to drop off! What was worse though was the fog. It had begun to gather earlier that morning, relatively slow at first, but then steadily thickening and swirling around us until we had been forced to walk closer and closer together so we didn’t lose sight of one another. I’d never seen anything like it. Manehattan certainly had its fair share of fog that would roll in from the bay, blanketing the city in its damp embrace, but nothing like this. This was wrong. It felt wrong. We’d been walking along the road, the black sand and crystal trees as common as they had been ever since I’d arrived here, but then out of nowhere this white cloud began to appear, hanging over the ground like a morning mist on a sunny morning. The temperature hadn’t changed, nor what passed as weather in this peculiar world, and yet here was this low lying carpet of fog just... sitting there. Maybe it was just my fatigue talking, but my hackles were going up like noponies business. And no wonder. As we’d walked onward the fog had steadily built up, thickening until I could barely see the end of my own muzzle let alone the pony in front of me. I wasn’t the type to scare easily, but this was something that sent a chill down my spine, and the proverbial alarm bells in my head were rapidly becoming a deafening cacophony of dread that was hard to ignore.

“Stay close.”

Who was that? Damn it all, and why were they whispering? I tried to look around myself, but all I could see was the endless suffocating whiteness. Ha! So much for the Darklands being bland and boring! Maybe this was one of the attractions that tourists of old used to come and see. Personally I think you’d have to have been a complete nutcase to come here and-

“Damn it!” I stumbled over something in the fog, stubbing my hoof and nearly losing my footing completely. What the hell was that? A rock? Oh gods… I shouldn’t have looked. I stood and stared at the form spread out on the ground in the middle of the road. The grey coat, soaked through as though half drowned. The once yellow eyes, now as pale as milk staring into nothingness. The mouth, frozen open in a silent scream of unimaginable horror. Oh Luna… Oh gods... I was going to be sick…

“Don’t stop! Keep moving!” Clarion appeared out of nowhere, grabbing my barding in his magic and pulled me onward. “Don’t look down, and keep your weapon to hoof.”

“Clarion?” I gave myself a mental shake and hurried after him, matching his pace until we were side by side. “What the hell’s going on?!”

“Shhh!” The grey stallion glared a warning to me but kept moving onward. “Sickle Foxes,” he whispered, staring into the mist. “I don’t understand it, they don’t normally come this far out of the mountain forests.” I could feel the tension in his voice which added to my own nervousness as he continued, “They follow the mists and are attracted by sound, so for the love of the goddess, keep quiet!”

Goddesses buck me, he didn’t need to tell me twice! We kept walking along the road, but in the mist it was nearly impossible to tell where the road even was. I concentrated on putting one hoof in front of the other, feeling for the firmness of the surface and listening for anything that- Oh gods! Something - a shape, a shadowed form - darted through the fog, appearing and disappearing like a ghost of the underworld. From behind us the sound of growling and snarling tugged urgently at my senses. Muffled as it was by the mist, but still horribly distinct, it set my hackles to twitching furiously, triggering a desperate desire to run and escape. I looked up into the eyes of Clarion.

“They’re feeding,” he whispered. “Keep walking, we’ll get out of this.”

I nodded my understanding and tried to push away the spectral images clouding my mind, conjuring up phantom forms of small furry beasts biting at my rump with needle sharp teeth. It wasn’t helped by the faint sounds of tearing flesh and crunching bone behind us.

I don’t know how long we continued along like that. Minutes? Hours? Bugger me, it felt like it was never going to end. We kept moving all the same, the thump of my hooves sounding damnably loud in that strange environment, and I cursed silently to myself that I hadn’t asked about overshoes to keep the noise down. I’d had kit like that in the watch where I’d taken such standard issue items for granted, but I hadn’t had a clue I’d ever need something like that here. If this was the afterlife of the thestrals then the gods must have been on an all night bender to come up with a nightmare like this! At least the fog wasn’t that thick bone soaking damp sort that you got in the down town areas of Manehattan. Being wet and miserable would have been the top hat to this misery for sure. Thank Luna for Clarion being here with me too. Without his reassuring presence I’d be… I’d… Oh no. Oh, no, no, NO! Where the hell was he? Eyes wide I looked around as a rising sense of isolation and panic began to grip me. Whilst I’d been day dreaming I’d lost sight of my rock in this sea of insanity, and now I was on my own! Without knowing which way to turn I carried on in what I thought was a straight line, feeling for the road beneath my hooves to anchor me in the endless sea of white.

The sand crunched beneath me.

I felt my heart sink like a lead weight in my chest. “Clarion?” I hissed into the nothingness. “Taurs? Anypony?” Celestia damn me, what a fool I was! I nearly choked on my own tongue when a shapeless form rushed at me out of the mist. A thing, a white and blue shape with eyes as black as midnight and a mouth full of small razor sharp teeth, bounded towards me, barely touching the ground beneath its paws. It was about the size of a small dog, but moved without making even the slightest sound. And in a blink of an eye, it was gone. My heart was racing now, my blood pumping in my veins. Unbidden, my hooves began to move forward as though they had a mind of their own and I soon found myself moving from a trot to a canter. From behind me I heard a bark. Another answered it, further away, but then another and another, coming nearer by the second. From out of the mist another of the things shot past me, nearly tipping me over. Gods, it was so fast! And now something was running down my leg. Something warm. I closed my eyes as I ran; I knew damned well what that was and there was no way in hell I was stopping to find out how much damage had been done. I poured all my energy into running now. It was far too late for stealth, if that had even been a worthwhile option in the first place. Images of the dead stallion’s blank staring eyes raced through my mind adding speed to my legs. We had been taught in the watch, when the odds were against you, to run in a straight line to put as much distance between you and an attacker, rather than jinking side to side like they did in the movies. I’d never been completely convinced by such a notion, but right now all I could think of was outrunning those fox things before I became the next casualty on that damned road. Dear gods, was this some sort of divine punishment for me? Had I really sinned so badly that this was now my eternal punishment? Running through the emptiness in a helpless flight from invisible pursuers? I’m sure I’d nightmares like this as a child, but at least I’d been able to wake up from them before the worst happened. Now, despite everything, I was lost. Utterly, utterly lost, and running towards only the gods knew where.

Something flashed by my flank, sending a shock of pain across my haunches. Barely a moment later a searing heat followed, slicing across my neck. So much for the bloody armour. Hell fire, where were they?! How in the gods names had I got into this mess? More to the point, what could I do to escape it? I couldn’t out run them. I couldn’t even see them! And so, I did the only thing I could do: I stopped. I didn’t remove my gear, nor my cloak. Trying to remove them would cost me precious time and leave me vulnerable. Instead, I channelled my magic and felt for my scythe. Carefully, with as much measured precision as I could muster despite my fluttering heart, I felt for the keeper, removed it, and slid the weapon free. The sound of the blade clicking into place sounded deafeningly loud, but rather than adding to my alarm, it cut through the cloying overcoat of fear like a razor sharp knife. I was where I was. If I was to meet my end here, then at least I would do so on my hooves rather than running away like a frightened foal. I’d take as many of these damned things with me as I could. I would-

A flash of white on white, marked by a blur of blue. I flicked my scythe up, the blade knowing its own mark. A slight resistance, a gasping sound, and something fell away into the mist. Around me a silence as deep as the ocean fell, smothering every sound, even my own heavy breathing. And then the baying began. Barks, snarls, grows and howls, played through the whiteness from every conceivable direction. It was like the Everfree all over again, only this time I doubted I’d be walking away from it in one piece. Goddesses in their heaven, I didn’t stand a bloody chance.

One of the beasts rushed me, only to jink away at the last second while another nipped at my hind leg. I kicked out, catching nothing but air. Moments later another came at me from the flank, biting my barding, only to receive a smashed jaw from the hilt of my scythe. But it wasn’t enough. There were too many. Far too many. They were all around me now, maybe even dozens of them. I tried to recall the dance of blades, the memory of battle that would come to me when I was in a fight. I knew it was there. I knew I could do it. Deep down, somewhere inside me, lay the memories that had been suppressed. If only I could find them, I could-

“Agh! Damn you!” I neighed in fury and pain as the tiny razor sharp teeth nipped into my hock. If this kept up they’d eventually wear me down, and when that happened, it would all be over. It was only a matter of time now, and soon I’d be-

“Fairlight? Fairlight!”

Oh, thank the goddess! “Clarion! Clarion, over here!” I could see the faint blue light bobbing in the mist. “Clarion!”

The sound of hooves running towards me was water to a pony dying of thirst. Every hoof fall, every crunch of sand, was a symphony of unadulterated joy. It was... salvation.

Clarion appeared, bathed in a ball of magical blue light. “Fairlight! Can you walk?”

“I can run,” I assured him.

“No!” The grey stallion closed his eyes a moment and took a long breath. “Listen, you can do that flame thing, right?”

“Flame?” I frowned in though, “Sure. But-”

“No time.” Clarion tossed his mane, looking around us hurriedly. “Bring up your flame and I’ll do the rest. Whatever you do, keep it going, okay? We only run when I say to, and when we do we run like the bucking wind, understand?”

I nodded. Channelling my magic I slipped my scythe back into its sheath before concentrating on following Clarion’s orders. Putting my weapon away when there were enemies abroad went against the grain so much so I felt like screaming at him at how utterly stupid this was. But Clarion hadn’t lead me astray so far, and if there was anypony I was going to trust to get me out of this mess, it was him. Not that there was anypony else! Well, in for a bit in for… whatever the hell it was. Concentrating, one small flame appeared as ordered. It wasn’t exactly huge, but did the job alright. As Meadow always told me, it wasn’t the size that mattered, it was what you did with it that counted. Despite my fear I chuckled to myself, making the flame as bright as possible.

“What now?” I asked.

“Watch.” Clarion’s magic rapidly began to build at an impressive rate. My horn always itched when near high magical fields, and by the gods this guy had it in spades. The grey stallion shuddered, the strain showing in his eyes. “Fairlight, keep it up, concentrate on the flame.”

I did. In the still of the hanging fog, a miracle happened. A breeze. The slightest brush of air glided across my cheek, expanding outwards little by little. The fox calls intensified with it, crying out in alarm. About us the air hissed and hushed through the black sand, rising higher and higher, dragging the reluctant fog with it, hauling in its tendrils of white as it rose. And then, with a sudden pulse of magical energy, the wind surged into a howling torrent of power. I watched in mesmerised awe as the wind picked up the small flame and drew it in with the fog, spitting and crackling like some otherworldly firestorm. The flames reflected in Clarion’s eyes, glinting off our equipment and armour.

“Now, Fairlight. With me! Move!”

The two of us began to move forward, keeping a measured pace as we walked side by side, surrounded by the whirling howl of the storm. Around us I could hear the shrieks and yelps of the sickle foxes. Their strange barks of anger and frustration of being denied their meal was so loud and shrill as to be almost tangible, but even these mysterious denizens of the fog would not brave the searing heat of the storm winds swirling around us. Here in the eye of the storm the two ponies picked up their pace. We didn’t run, instead keeping to a steady trot which I prayed would lead us away from these vicious little predators as quickly as possible. Beside me Clarion’s face was a contorted picture of concentration and effort. Sweat beaded his brow, his pupils dilated, and the whites of his eyes bloodshot. The drain on his magic must have been excruciating. I was worried about him. Back when I’d been in the watch I’d come across ponies who had used large amounts of magic, and fallen deathly ill as a result. Usually it was young ones playing about with spells they didn’t understand, or acting the fool showing off to friends. Sometimes it was an overzealous researcher or practitioner of the higher forms of thaumaturgy who’d taken that one step too far. Personally I’d never come anywhere close to burning myself out through overexertion, except when using the wendigo magic to heal others. Whether the two were even vaguely similar I had no idea, and no desire to experience it again either.

We kept moving, keeping the magic flowing, keeping close together. I could feel the pull on my magic now. It was like something pulling on my brain, steadily, slowly, drawing it out of the top of my head. It didn’t hurt as such, but was a distinctly unpleasant feeling that I wanted to stop. I could have stopped it. I could also have been eaten alive. That thought alone drove my legs onward through the fog, on through the sand, and onto the… the road? Oh gods, the road!

“Keep… keep moving...” Clarion gasped. “Keep...”

“I’m right with you buddy, keep it up, you’re doing great.” I assured him. “We’ll be out of this hell soon, you’ll see.” I wasn’t sure who I was trying to convince: Clarion, or myself.

“Fairlight… tell me something,” the wendigo huffed wearily. “Anything at all. Just… keep me awake, okay?”

Keep him awake? And tell him what?! What the hell was I supposed to do?! I gave myself a shake, trying to concentrate. “What do you want me to talk about?” I gasped, wincing as a throb of pain surged though my skull.

Clarion swallowed, pushing out another pulse of magic. “Tell me about... about your thestral mare. Your wife. Anything!”

“Shadow?” I flinched as the magic pulled on me again. The barking and yapping was further away now, but the fog was still all around us like a damned shroud. I knew if we stopped, if we even let up for even a second, they’d be on us. “I met her in the Wither World,” I said loudly over the roar. “I was lost in a land that looked exactly like this one, only with less fog and a lot less on the pony-eating fox front.”

The stallion shivered as he asked, “What… What did she look like?”

“Like a creature from your worst nightmare after a night on blue cheese and cider!” I shouted. “She was all bone and leathery skin, with wings like a dragon and teeth that could tear you shreds. Hell, I didn’t even know she was a ‘she’ until… well, you get the idea.”

“Sound like… like your typical thestral to me,” Clarion bellowed between breaths.

“How did you know about me and her?” I asked.

“Everypony knows about you,” Clarion replied. He winced noticeably and gave his mane a hard shake. “Our brothers and sisters in the eternal herd brought the news back to us. We couldn’t believe it at first, but then… but then we kept hearing more about your exploits.” He smiled despite his exertions. “Is it true you have three wives?”

“Almost,” I shouted. “I have one wife and two marefriends. It just kind of happened that way.”

“And your wife is okay with that?”

“I know, right?” I squinted against the blasting wind. “Believe it or not she’s happy with our little herd. What about you though? Any ladies in your life?”

“Only one, and that’s enough!” Clarion replied. “Varielle and I met here in the Darklands after the fortress fell. We’ve been together ever since.”

“Any foals?”

“No joy on that front,” Clarion called back. “Births are very rare here. Same as the herd.”

“I never found out why that was,” I replied loudly. “I guess it’s something to do with being dead, yeah?” I barked out a laugh, joined by my new friend.

“Probably!”

Clarion stumbled suddenly and I managed to catch him in my forelegs. “Hey! You okay big guy?” I asked in concern. “For the gods’ sake, don’t burn out on me here!”

“I… I don’t think...” Clarion licked his lips and grimaced. “Goddess forgive me… I don’t think...”

“Come on, here, get this down you.” I held up my flask for him to take a draught which he took greedily.

He nodded weakly, “Thanks.”

I shook my head, “No need to thank me. Let’s just get out of here and then we can try that balta, yeah?”

Clarion nodded, and together we pressed on, trying to maintain our measured pace. I looked at him from the corner of my eye. It was obvious the wendigo was losing his strength. I didn’t say it out loud, but every so often the magical winds would drop slightly before picking back up again. Clarion was exhausted, and I wasn’t in a much better state myself. The last thing we needed now was to have the magical storm collapse, along with us inside it. If that happened I wouldn’t have the strength to protect us, and even if I did I doubted I’d be able to keep it up for long. But for once, Fate had other plans. Thankfully ones that didn’t involve me being eaten alive by near invisible foxes from the underworld. I’d have to thank her the next time I met her. After I’d throttled the vicious bitch…

From out of the mists more sounds assailed us over the rushing wind, only this time they were voices. Familiar voices. It was all too much for poor Clarion. Pushed to his limits he collapsed onto his knees as the fire storm began to sputter and fail. Almost in the same instant, blue light burst all about us in all its magical glory, flooding my eyes and heart alike with renewed hope. The wendigo surrounded us in seconds, taking up the last shreds of the storm and fire, rekindling it, adding to it, and sending it out in a shock wave of fiery energy that screamed outwards from its epicentre with us at its heart. My knees shuddered as I leaned down to help my friend. Clarion looked up at me weakly, the dark shadows beneath his eyes already telling their own tale of the toll his magical expenditure had taken on his body.

“You’d… you’d better be… worth it,” he wheezed. “Lord of… of the Four Winds...”

“Hang on, Clarion, the cavalry’s here, buddy,” I smiled down at him. “You’re gonna be okay.”

He closed his eyes, “Yeah...”

Taurs appeared in front of me, about as welcome as one of those damned sickle foxes. Wait… foxes? My goddesses, the fog! I blinked in amazement at the scene around me. It had gone. The fog had gone! Every last shred of it, vanished as though it had simply never existed. An indescribable sense of relief flooded me from nose to tail, taking the strength from my legs as I collapsed to my haunches with a loud huff. The four wendigo around me looked tired too, and were all breathing hard from running. Three of them helped pick up Clarion and between them started to carry him away, leaving me with their leader. The leader who was glaring at me as though everything that had happened had been because of me.

“If Clarion dies, it will be because of you,” he confirmed levelly. “The death of even one of our brothers diminishes our people’s spirit. You will be held accountable.”

I’d had enough of him already. I didn’t want to hear this supercilious prig’s bitter words any more than I wanted to stay in his presence. “You can please yourself, Taurs,” I told him coldly. “I take responsibility for my actions. All my actions. Clarion chose to help a friend. A brother. Where were you when one of your people needed help?”

The stallion’s glare cut have cut marble. “You were the one who wandered off the road into the fog, not I,” he announced. “We came as soon as we realised you had gone missing.”

“Did you?” I mused. “Took your sweet time about it though, didn’t you. Hoped the foxes would rid you of your pet Celestian perhaps?”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Taurs sniped. “I don’t give a damn about you or your kind. I’m only doing this because...” his words faltered.

“Because you have to?” I finished for him. “Is that what you were going to say?” My ire was up now and my hooves itched furiously. “Where is the ‘wendigo are all brothers and sisters’ routine now, Taurs? I thought we were all one big happy family. Or is it because I’m a half breed? An aberration? A nag?”

“You’re a fool,” he spat.

“I am, am I?” I rounded on him, pulling him up short as he tried to walk away. “Tell me, Taurs, why are you and your ponies really here, hmm? And don’t give me any of your sugar coated bullshit either.” I took a step towards him. “Come on, out with it. I promise I won’t bite.”

I’m not sure whether it was my questioning of him that hit the mark or my reference to being a half breed, but the nervous tick beneath his eye told me I’d struck a raw nerve. Taurs’ ears twitched and his tail swished in what I would normally have ascribed to absolute fury. But instead of striking me, he closed his eyes and… smiled.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, “I was upset about Clarion, that was all. Of course I’m glad you’re safe, Fairlight. Please, forgive my thoughtless words. I said them in haste, and emotion which is something I don’t normally do well.”

I nodded, giving him a gentle smile, “Of course, Taurs. And I’m sorry I placed you all in danger on my account. Can we move on?”

“Of course!” Taurs beamed suddenly. “But perhaps you should look to the west, beyond the road.”

“The west?” I followed the grey stallion’s gaze, past the black sand, past the rocks that lay as though they had exploded out of the ground, and there, in the distance rising up out of the earth, was the unmistakable outline of the mountains. “Gods...”

“The Gods Hoof Mountains,” Taurs breathed quietly beside me. “The home of the ice dragons.”

“As long as they’re the home to the Roc, I don’t give a damn about dragons,” I said with finality.

“You aren’t of afraid of dragons?” Taurs asked in surprise. “You lived your life in Equestria, and you have no fear of the flying lizards?”

“A healthy fear of things that eat you alive can mean the difference between life and death,” I said, readjusting my equipment. “But if you let fear take control you can lose your ability to think and outwit your enemy. If you can harness your fear, if you acknowledge it and let it rage in the quiet corners of your mind where it can do no harm, then… then you can achieve anything.” I hefted my saddle pack and began walking away. “Fortune favours the bold, Taurs. I learned that a long time ago.”

********************

“How is he?”

“Weakened, but he’ll survive.”

Clarion was pale but his breathing was at least steady, each exhaled breath curling up in the chill night air. I pulled the blanket up and tucked it in around his neck. “I’ll stay here with him,” I said laying my own blanket over his. “You go and get some sleep.”

The wendigo watched me carefully, a look of genuine curiosity crossing his features. “Why?” he asked quietly, “You don’t know him.”

“I know enough to know he’s my friend,” I replied, “and my brother.”

“Your…?” The wendigo shook his head suddenly and looked around as though wary of being overheard. “Your brother?”

“Aren’t all wendigo brothers and sisters?” I asked politely. I took a sip of the hot brew that had been passed around shortly after the fire had been laid. It was quite good really. A little strong for my taste, but still warming. And by the gods I needed it too.

The stallion, a near mirror image of the others sitting close to the fire, frowned in thought before replying, “We are brothers and sisters. But you… you’re a-”

“Half breed?” I finished for him. “Yeah, I keep hearing that.” I gazed into the steaming cup. “Does that make me any less of a wendigo in your eyes?”

He stared at me, his eyes wide. I’d hit a nerve and it showed. But then to my surprise he reached into his pack and moved closer, pulling my cloak aside. “Let me have a look at your wounds.”

“They’re not too bad,” I assured him.

“Bites from a spirit fox can turn septic quickly,” he replied in a conversational tone. “Their teeth carry more bacteria than anything else I’ve ever encountered and slow healing. Even a wendigo could succumb if left untreated.”

“In that case,” I said presenting my injuries for inspection, “feel free, Doc.”

I settled back and let the fellow go to work. It was strange being worked on with magic rather than the more familiar applications of needle, thread and poultice. It was also a lot less painful. The warm glow of the stallion’s magic concentrated on the injuries, knitting the flesh back together. Pleasantly I noticed that the injuries I’d suffered at the claws of the manticore were now as clean as a whistle, showing only bare skin. Hopefully my fur would grow back there soon, otherwise I’d end up looking like a bloody road map.

“You have older wounds,” the wendigo observed. “I thought the magic of the herd prevented injuries.”

“It does,” I replied stretching out my newly mended leg. “No such luck here.”

“Have you been in the Darklands long?” the stallion asked.

“Not really,” I replied pleasantly. “I was here to visit a friend and ended up nearly being eaten alive by a manticore.” I shrugged wistfully, “I think I’ll send a letter next time.” The wendigo chuckled and I sat up, pulling the cloak around me once more. “Thanks for that, it feels great. What’s your name again?”

“Lyrin,” he replied. “Forgive me, I should have introduced myself properly when we first met.”

I shrugged, “That makes two of us then. Call me Fairlight, Lyrin.” I held out my hoof, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise.” Lyrin smiled and shook my hoof with a single, firm shake. “I have to say, Fairlight, that you’re not at all how I expected.”

“Oh?”

“Your concern for Clarion. I…” He sighed, “I hadn’t expected it of a… you know.”

“A Celestian?” I asked.

Lyrin shook his head, “No. I meant an Equestrian.” He continued, “After our defeat by the white witch and her minions we fled through the caves and into the northern wastelands hoping the cold would help protect us from our enemies. Many of us died in the attempt. Be it from wounds, starvation, thirst, sickness… One by one we fell until there was hardly any of us left. It was a time I will never forget. It was also a time when many of us became increasingly embittered towards our cousins, the ones who called themselves Celestians.” He looked down at the ground, his eyes taking on a far away cast. “I saw my whole family butchered, Fairlight. I only escaped more through luck than anything else.”

“But you survived,” I added.

“I did,” Lyrin snorted bitterly, “only to die in the mountains. Our peoples bones litter the snowy wastes as silent reminders of the end of an age and the merciless vengeance of the white witch. We didn’t have the time nor the strength to bury our own loved ones. And if there is one thing that keeps me awake at night, it’s that.” He snorted mirthlessly, “I doubt my remains faired any better.”

I hung my head, “I’m sorry, Lyrin.”

“Vae Victis. Woe to the vanquished,” the stallion quoted. “At least some of us survived. The strongest amongst us found a place to finally call home, taking refuge in-”

“Lyrin?” A voice called over from the campfire. “Lyrin, what are you doing? Come and give us a hoof here with this shelter will you?”

Lyrin turned to leave. “I’d better go. Taurs does not like us… fraternising.”

“I’m not your enemy, Lyrin,” I replied softly. “Born in Equestria or not, I never have been.”

The wendigo smiled sadly and picked up his equipment and packs, “I’ve left some spirit and food for when he awakes. If you need anything, call me.”

“I will,” I assured him gratefully.

I stayed beside Clarion as Lyrin walked slowly back to his brothers who were busily erecting a shelter for themselves. I’d never seen it rain here, but I didn’t want to take the chance that it was going to do just that and I’d be caught outside in some kind of bizarre alien downpour. I doubt it would be like anything I’d ever experienced before of course, nothing here was. Who knew what weird mind warping insanity this place was going to throw at me next. Shrugging my concerns aside I followed their lead and set to putting together a makeshift shelter for myself, making sure I had my waterproof cape to hoof just in case. By the looks of what I ended up with I’d probably need the thing too. Gods above, what a mess... I hoped the wind didn’t pick up or I’d be in real trouble. Survival skills weren’t exactly something we’d needed in the watch. When the nearest you got to being ‘outdoors’ was standing on a street corner in torrential rain watching the time until you could go home, knowing how to build a sturdy shelter against the elements didn’t factor into the top ten of your concerns. Not to mention the fact that my days in the Equestria Scouts had been cut unexpectedly short after I’d thrown up on the scout leader and was too embarrassed to go back again. Still, the rickety mess of sticks I’d managed to erect would do for tonight. I hoped.

A few of the thick thorny bushes were growing nearby. They were a bit small compared to what I’d seen near Briar’s home, but there were enough dry pieces lying about to keep the small fire going for the night. The others had set up their own fire nearby, leaving me to my own devices. There was little in the way of wildlife too I noticed. As the night drew on and the hours passed by there was little sound other than for the occasional cough or snort from the others. In my mind the image of that endless fog burning away in the swirling magical fire replayed over and over no matter how much I tried to ignore it. White fog, the barking of the foxes, the face of the pony I had stumbled over in the enveloping whiteness... The pony… There were five wendigo: Clarion, Taurs, Lyrin, and the other two. If somepony else had died in that dread blanket of death, then nopony here had spoken of it. At least not to me. But that pony had been a wendigo, of that I had no doubt. The grey coat, the black mane and tail, and those eyes… those dead, pale, staring yellow eyes. There had been no sign of a struggle that I could see. Only death. And I had seen more than my fill of that. I could still remember the first pony I’d killed. Melon Patch. The big red bastard who, along with his friend Gates, had raped and murdered my wife and unborn daughter before trying to finish me off. I say ‘trying’ because those vermin hadn’t had the sense to make sure they’d done their job properly. I had survived, barely, and only after help from Princess Luna herself to bring my soul back from the Withers. Sometimes I wished she hadn’t bothered...

“Fairlight?”

Shaken from my thoughts I looked up into the face of the kindly soul who had tended my wounds. “Lyrin? Oh, hi. Can’t sleep?” I asked.

He shook his head, “It’s my turn at watch. Thought I’d bring you a cup of tea to warm you up.”

“Thanks.” I took the cup from him gratefully and took a sip of the hot steamy brew. By the goddess, it was the best thing I’d ever tasted in my life.

“You’re smiling,” Lyrin said in surprise. “Everything alright?”

“I haven’t lost my marbles yet, Doc.” I closed my eyes and sighed loudly, enjoying the warming sensation drifting over me. “No, just marvelling at how everything always tastes better around a camp fire.”

Lyrin watched me with those deep yellow eyes of his before shrugging and sitting down beside Clarion. “He’s sleeping. That’s good.”

“Will he recover his magic?” I asked. “I’ve heard of unicorns overexerting themselves and burning all their magic away.”

Lyrin huffed dismissively, “Old mares tales.” He smiled slightly and began to check on his patient, carefully checking his pulse and temperature. “Using too much magic will cause physical collapse before any permanent damage is done. Clarion reached his limit and his body simply shut down. His magic will come back in time.”

“So ‘burnout’ doesn’t exist?” I asked in surprise.

“Not that I’ve seen,” Lyrin replied. “There are plenty of unicorns whose hearts gave out from pushing themselves too far, but not from over use of their magic.”

“And wendigo?”

“The same.” Lyrin continued to work on Clarion who murmured something in his sleep, but other than that never stirred once throughout his examination. “Push yourself too hard and you run the risk of injury,” he nodded to himself as he tucked the blanket back around his patient. “Run too hard, fly to high, eat too much, drink too much. The list goes on.”

“Everything in moderation, eh?” I suggested.

Lyrin nodded stiffly, “Correct. Everypony has their limits, Fairlight. You just need to listen to your body.”

The stallion moved to leave. I held out a hoof stopping him, “Lyrin?”

“Hmm?”

I took a breath, “Did you… Did you see anypony else in the fog?”

“See anypony?” Lyrin barked out an ironic laugh. “I could barely see myself!” He paused, “You’re serious.”

“I am.” I adjusted my cloak and took another sip of tea. “There was another pony out there. A dead stallion, by the side of the road.”

“Another wendigo?” Lyrin asked.

I nodded, “I’d say so going by his colouring. I couldn’t see the poor sod’s cutie mark because of his cloak, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to go in for a closer look in that fog.”

Lyrin stared at me. I wasn’t sure whether he believed me or not, although there wasn’t so much a look of dismissal of my claim in his eyes as something else. Was it surprise maybe? Fear? Whatever it was, with his immovable features I simply couldn’t tell; this lot would have made damned good poker players, that was for damned sure.

“She was not with our party,” Lyrin said finally. “And I don’t know why anypony else from our tribe would be out here.”

“Perhaps you could send some of your people to recover her body when all this is over,” I suggested. “If there’s anything left by then.”

“With the foxes abroad?” Lyrin shook his head, “We’d be lucky to find a single bone.”

Not a comforting thought, especially at night in the middle of nowhere. Still, at least I was with a group and not on my own for a change, although sometimes I longed for my own company, the freedom to roam and rely only on your own wit, magic and initiative. Other times I wanted nothing more than to cuddle up next to a warm mare and enjoy the company of somepony who loved me. Gods… How I wished I was back home now instead of here on this insane mission.

“It’s an unforgiving land, Lyrin,” I said quietly. “As fascinating as it is, every minute I spend here reminds me of how good I have it in the eternal herd. Have you ever thought of going back there? There’s wendigo like you who’ve made a home for themselves there after passing over.”

Lyrin raised his eyebrows and stared up at the starry sky. He had an air of distance about him tonight, as though he were here physically but his mind was up there, dancing amongst those far away pinpricks of silver light. “I did live there once,” he said softly. “I used my medical knowledge to help those of us who were frightened and lost after the fall of the fortress. Many of us, particularly the ones who had achieved the joining, couldn’t cope with the realisation of what had happened to them. Despite the magic of the herd, I could only watch as they slowly went mad, drowning in a sea of grief and loss. Those… those we lost early. They could never accept losing the part of them that made them what they were. Some of them came here to the Darklands, heading up into the mountains to try and find salvation, to try to reconnect with that which was no longer there. All they ever found was death. Either by accident, starvation or dragon, they left this world and are now no more than a faint memory. Others from our tribe tried living amongst the equestrians for a time. Many of them they treated us with suspicion, but some were kindly and readily accepted us. But to lose our home, our lives, and then to have our very nature cut away from us… It is something that is beyond even the magic of the eternal herd to mend, Fairlight. I suspect that you know of what I speak?”

“I do,” I replied solemnly. “I’ve made a home in the herd with my wife and daughter. For the most part I’m happy there too. I have a job, a beautiful home, and my family’s with me.” I smiled distantly, staring at my hooves. “It’s everything a stallion could wish for.” I closed my eyes, wishing my heart didn’t hurt so in my chest. “But I miss the wendigo part of myself, Lyrin. There are times when I remember the feeling of flying above the mountains, of the sheer raw power of my magic and the song upon the winds. Now… now I’m just a plain old unicorn who can float objects around and light pipes.”

“The gods are harsh, my friend.”

“Yeah,” I took a sip of my tea. “Well bollocks to ‘em. Every bloody one.”

“You know, you really shouldn’t speak ill of the gods, Fairlight.” We both looked round in surprise to see Clarion leaning up and watching us. “It’s not a good idea to piss off something that can turn you to ash with a careless thought,” the stallion smirked. “I thought your watch training would have told you that much.”

“Oh, bugger off!” I laughed.

“Got a cup for me too?” Clarion asked. “A stallion gets a powerful thirst saving others from certain death.”

“Let’s hope it’s not habit forming,” I grinned. “Here...” I passed Clarion a hot cup of tea from the pot. “Feeling any better?”

He shrugged slightly, “Bit kicked about, but I’ll be fine after a good nights sleep.” Clarion’s eyes still had dark circles under them, but he looked a lot more like his old self than he had a few hours earlier. “How long was I out?”

Lyrin, goddess bless him, pulled out a pack of paper wrapped sweet biscuits which went perfectly with the tea. “About a day and a half roughly speaking,” he explained. Stretching his legs he began rummaging in his pack. “I wouldn’t normally recommend it, but considering the circumstances...”

I caught the aroma immediately. “You have tobacco?” I asked.

“And the best too,” Lyrin smiled. “Hill Top Leaf. Taken from our holdings in the herd.”

“You grow tobacco in the herd?!” I nearly choked.

“Why not?” Lyrin seemed put out by my expression of surprise. “We still have friends and family there you know. We have some sent over once a month.”

“And they allow that?” I asked.

“Trade is trade,” Clarion clarified. “We send through crystal lumber for craft items and building projects. In return we have get some of the little luxuries we can’t get here. The tobacco is a nice distraction from the day to day living standards here.”

“Couldn’t you just, you know, go back there?” I asked. “Even for visits and the like.”

“We do occasionally,” Lyrin answered. He packed a pipe and floated it over to Clarion who took it gratefully. “Sometimes a few of us will accompany the monthly supply run to visit family and friends, or simply take a break from life here.”

“But it isn’t home...” I said quietly.

“No.” Clarion accepted a light from my horn and nodded his appreciation as the grey smoke began to curl up into the night sky. “We don’t belong there, Fairlight, remember?”

“I still don’t think it’s right,” I replied. “We’re all ponies and-”

“Fairlight?” Clarion took a puff on his pipe, talking past the stem, “This isn’t the subject for friends to discuss over a pipe, yes?”

Reluctantly I nodded, but even so it didn’t seem right to me. No, not ‘seem’, it wasn’t right! These guys were living in a form of self imposed exile and having to live in this dark and sandy hell hole where rubbery tentacle things stole memories of loved ones from you to lure you to your death, where the land itself smothered you in fog for foxes to eat you alive and… and… and yet it was their home. I hung my head as the realisation of everything Clarion and Lyrin told me finally began to sink through my thick skull. The wendigo had always been able to live in the eternal herd, they just didn’t want to. They had come here to find a new home, and even this place, this inhospitable miserable place, failed to offer them the solace they sought. The wendigo race had vanished from Equestria, vanished nearly from the herd too, only to end up here like driftwood on a beach at high tide. For the wendigo, for my own people, there was simply nowhere left to go. At the edge of eternity, on the very brink of the void… they waited for their end. Maybe this was why they found some affinity with the thestrals. The two races were defunct, unwanted, and left to die out. What the all father had started with the thestral race his daughter Celestia had almost finished with her purge of the wendigo. I closed my eyes and tried to push away the memories that were beginning to bubble up from that dark recesses of my soul: Maroc’s loss of his wife, Arathea, the destruction of his home and people, my own loss of Meadow and Sparrow, and the ever present pain of being unable to save your loved ones from the grief of your own passing. All of it, every infinitesimally tiny piece of memory, cut me deeper than any knife. Even the music sounded melancholy, the way it drifted softly through the air and caressed my ears.

“Hey, Fairlight?”

“Hmm?” I looked up and blinked in surprise. Rubbing my eyes I stared past my two friends, trying to focus on where the music was coming from and saw one of the other wendigo playing a strange looking pipe like instrument at the other campfire.

“Are you nodding off, Fairlight?” Lyrin peered closely at me, “I think you need some sleep my friend, otherwise you’ll be no good for tomorrow’s climb.”

“Climb?” Clarion asked. “Are we that close already?”

“We’re about half a day from the gods hoof mountains,” Lyrin said idly smoking his pipe. “This time tomorrow we’ll be camping amongst the rocks and enjoying all the thrills of rock climbing.”

“Speaking of which, any idea where we’ll find the Roc’s nest?” I asked hopefully.

Clarion shook his head and shared a look with Lyrin. “Normally we avoid the Gods Hooves like a bad arse in summer. If you ever see a Roc then you can bet she’s already seen you, sized you up, and decided whether or not it’s worth her while inviting you to dinner. Few have lived to see her and fewer want to.”

“So why come?” I took a pull on my pipe thoughtfully, “You have all risked your lives to lead a complete stranger to find a monster’s egg of all things. I somehow doubt it’s going to get any easier from here on in, right?”

“True enough,” Clarion replied honestly. “Lyrin?”

Lyrin shrugged and leaned back on his pack, shrugging into it to make himself comfortable. “Taurs is in charge of our village, and we go where he says we go. He told us to come help you, and so,” he said holding out his forelegs, “here we are.”

“It’s that simple?” I asked.

Lyrin nodded, “It’s that simple.”

“What I don’t understand is why,” I said honestly. “He doesn’t know me, and for that matter, neither do you guys.”

“Wendigo look after their own, Fairlight,” Clarion replied. He took a pull on his pipe and sighed it out into the chill air as he brushed a hair out of his eye. “Is it so hard to believe that we’re helping you because we want to?”

“A suspicious mind,” Lyrin announced suddenly. “Typical watchpony trait.”

“How would you know that?” I asked. “The Four Winds tribe wouldn’t have had need for a watch, surely?”

“Oh, they did alright! My father was the night watch commander,” the grey stallion grinned cheekily. “Time, I think, for a little story...”

And so with a fresh cup of tea, a pipe of tobacco and some snacks pilfered from the supply packs, the three of us whiled away the night with stories of home, mares, and adventure…

********************

Morning. You could tell it was morning by virtue of the fact that there was a distinct absence of stars. Other than that it was exactly the same as every other blasted day here. How anypony could live in constant darkness without going completely round the bend was an achievement in itself. By the gods, what I wouldn’t give for a little sunshine! No wonder the wendigo here were so bloody miserable all the time. Maybe a little warmth and sunlight was what they needed in their lives, like the thestrals. At least they had an excuse for being angry; they were stuck here. The wendigo chose to live here. Most of them anyway. I gave myself a hard shake, dislodging the sand that had found its way into every nook and cranny making me feel like I had sandpaper between my legs. I’d dreamt about the wendigo last night, and about their plight. In the dream I’d seen grey unicorns streaming through the mountain pass, heading into the darkness and the unknown whilst behind them the sun blazed high overhead. All I managed to take from it was a strong sense of fear and the terror of an unknown future that many of them would simply never going see. They were lost, leaderless, and had given up on the one thing that made life worthwhile: hope. Without it all the future promised was emptiness and fear, constantly on the run and looking over your shoulder for the rest of your days. For me, hope was what had made me continue to struggle onward. To be without it, to have lost that fundamental drive, that purpose… was beyond terrifying. Now I felt like I needed a hot shower to wash not only the grime away, but the last vestiges of the uncomfortable dream.

“Morning.” Clarion’s face appeared with a cup of tea and a bun.

I rubbed my eyes and yawned, “Mmf.”

“Not a morning pony, eh?”

“Not here, no.” I took a grateful sip of the tea and groaned as the sweetened liquid slipped down my throat. “Oh Luna, that’s so good.”

“Not bad, eh?” Clarion rolled his shoulder and yawned, “Girls love it when a guy can cook.” “And make tea,” he added.

“What’s in the bun?” I asked taking a bite, “It’s delicious!”

“Bacon,” Clarion replied. “We keep a few pigs in the herd and the bacon is packed in freezer boxes before being transported back to our village. We have enchantments on the food packs to stop it going off.”

“That’s incredible,” I muttered past the deliciously salty morsel. “I’ve never heard of anything like that.”

“You have refrigeration in the kitchen at home, don’t you?” Clarion asked.

“Well, sure,” I replied. “But it’s hardly portable.”

“And since ponies don’t generally eat meat,” Clarion continued, “there’s not much need for portable freezer boxes. Besides, the herd has a way of ensuring food doesn’t go rotten. The same can’t be said of here unfortunately.”

“Well whatever the case, that was the best breakfast I’ve had in a long time.” I smiled and licked the crumbs from my muzzle, washing it down with a good slug of hot tea. “Thanks, Clarion. You’re a star.”

“A star?” He laughed and walked over to his belongings. “If you’re going to wash you’d better be quick about it. Taurs wants everypony ready in thirty minutes.”

“Fair enough,” I replied.

I closed my eyes and groaned. Oh for a warm comfortable bed and nothing to do all day! Still, if I got my act together I’d have time for a flannel wash with some warm water from the pot on the fire. Thank the goddess I’d had the forethought to work on my hooves last night whilst we’d been chatting. I suppose they could have been worse; the damned things were absolutely covered in chips – not unusual when travelling in rough terrain particularly - but I’d also found a small crack in one of my hind hooves that had needed immediate attention. My skills in the field had come in handy on more than one occasion over the years, and last night I’d at least been able to seal the crack and roll the edges of my hooves to stop them getting any worse. Honestly, I usually took better care of them, but being out here in the Darklands was playing hell with my normal routine. Considering my normal routine involved dragging myself out of bed into the shower before I enjoyed a breakfast with my family, things really couldn’t have been any more different if I’d tried. Still, the breakfast on offer today was pleasant enough, and the company too for that matter. Taurs was still avoiding speaking to me, and Clarion and Lyrin avoided talking to me whenever he was near. It probably would come as no surprise to even the most casual observer that Taurs did not like me, nor I him. That made it all the more peculiar that he and his stallions were still here. Clarion had warned me about questioning Taurs, and I respected that. However it didn’t stop me wondering about the curious leader of our party, and what his truemotivations were.

Predictably the rest of the day was exhausting. There was no doubt at all we were approaching the mountains now. Our modest morning hike became increasingly laboured as the hours slipped by and the climbing began in earnest. Step by cautious step we stumbled over loose rocks and squeezed past boulders as large as houses, all the while trying not to focus on the black giants looming ahead of us. It wasn’t exactly hard either, taking care of our footing was a nightmare and I think I spent more time staring at the ground rather than where we were actually heading. My hooves constantly skidded and slipped on the freely moving surface, sending pebbles and rocks of all sizes cascading back down the way we’d come. At times we had to help each other make any headway at all by utilising magic, ropes, or just sheer brute force and ignorance. Gods damn it all, I’d never complain about walking on sand again after this nightmare! By comparison it was a palace carpet to this… this crap! At least I’d noticed how the wendigo struggled just as much as I did. The old adage ‘Misery loves company’, seemed oddly appropriate. In any case I was glad of that very same company, and was surprised when even Taurs leant a hoof to help yours truly up a particularly nasty section of scree. The delicious breakfast I’d enjoyed only that morning now felt like a memory from a lifetime ago. All there was now was that interminable, never ending, climbing.

At long last, Lyrin and one of the others grabbed me by my barding and hauled my weary carcase onto the first relatively flat piece of land I’d seen since we’d set out, and we collapsed as one to catch our breath. Suddenly smoking didn’t seem like such a good idea. Fresh air, a cup of water and a travellers biscuit was more than enough up here. Wherever ‘here’ was. One of the wendigo, a fellow by the name of Pulias, was our guide now. Somehow he apparently knew this miserable terrain like the back of his hoof, although how exactly he’d come across such knowledge was a mystery in itself. He had no map, no compass, no nothing. Only the sense of direction in his head was what kept us moving. That, and mindless determination. But even determination will only drag an exhausted pony so far. Taurs had reluctantly agreed to a halt while up ahead of us, Pulias and the other wendigo, ‘Kadun’, or something equally silly, went ahead to scout the land. Luna’s ears, why did they have have such difficult to pronounce names? ‘Clarion’ was as normal it got around here, and I wasn’t that sure I could spell his name properly anyway. It was probably spelled with far more consonants than was decent, but that was old Equestrian for you. It probably meant ‘Biscuit’ or ‘Dave’, or something equally stupid. Speaking of which, I wonder how the old biddy at the rehabilitation centre was doing these days? I hadn’t seen any of the old crew for ages. I kind of missed Booster. He was fun to be around, a bit of a maverick perhaps, but a decent enough sort. Maybe he’d worked things out with Ivy? I’d have to look him up when I got back and catch up with him. Well, after I’d grovelled my way through the front gate at the barracks that is. Whichever way you looked at it I was for the high jump disappearing the way I had. I’d have to come up with some sort of plausible excuse, but precisely what I wasn’t sure yet. I’d give it some thought when I had a few minutes. Unfortunately being stuck halfway up a bloody mountain was far from ideal when it came to formulating plans.

“Lyrin, Fairlight, heads up.” Clarion motioned to one of the scouts returning.

It was Kadun. He hurried up to Taurs who nodded briefly in response to the message being relayed. Moments later, with Kadun heading back the way he’d come, Taurs turned to the rest of us, “Break’s over,” he announced. “We’re heading out.”

“Short and sweet as always,” Lyrin mumbled grumpily beside me. “Come on lads, grab your gear and let’s haul flank.”

“Buck me, already?” one groused. “We’ve just sat down for Luna’s sake!”

“Oh, for a pair of wings...”

“I hear yer.”

The sound of grumbling ponies brought a wry smile to my face. It was reminiscent of so many of my training expeditions in the watch where we would occasionally go off on hikes into the highlands of Equestria, sometimes for days on end. Ostensibly it was to ‘promote team building’ and ‘build stamina and endurance’ as we had spouted at us on a regular basis by the chief instructor. What setting up a tent in blasting wind had to do with avoiding getting a hoof in your knackers on a Friday night in down-town Manehattan was anyponies guess. Then, like now, the cold air and gusts caught at your eyes and chilled your hide to the bone. After a few days all any of us could think about was getting back for a hot bath. Now that I thought about it, the prospect of sinking into hot water was as tantalising as a mirage of an oasis to a pony dying of thirst. And just as elusive. Thankfully, even though I could feel the drop in temperature as we ascended, it was nowhere near as bad as the biting cold of the frozen north and I shrugged it off easily, concentrating instead on watching where I put my hooves. Loose stones would occasionally roll down from above and bounce off my leather armour. It was tempting to look up to admire the view, but I doubted I’d like what I saw. Instead I gave myself a shake and adjusted my gear into a more comfortable position. As my barding was light enough not to cause me any problems, it saved me from a more than a few bumps and scrapes as we shimmied along ledges, jumped over small splits in the trail, until eventually we came to a halt on a ledge overlooking some of the most spectacularly disturbing scenery I had ever seen in my life. Dear goddesses, was this really the afterlife for thestrals? It was more like a scene from my darkest nightmares after an all night bender on mixed drinks and blue cheese.

“Nice, eh?” Clarion noted quietly. “Some of us call this place the ‘Edge of Creation’. They believe it’s where the gods gave up with all the mundane work and had one last splurge of creativity. When it didn’t work out the way they wanted they smashed their hooves into the earth in a fury and conjured up the gods hoof mountains.”

I could see why. The mountain range spread out before us was truly spectacular, and it was easy to believe that they had indeed been created in a moment of divine wrath. There was something primal about the way they stood out stark against the dark sky in shades of black and grey. Peaks vanished high into the sky above a rocky wasteland of tumbled boulders and scree. I stared off at a waterfall that spilled down one of the large silent giants like black blood gushing from a mortal wound.

“What do you believe?” I asked.

“That it doesn’t matter what I believe,” Clarion snorted, brushing a stray mane hair from his eye. “I try to keep neutral on subjects I know little about, and try to avoid pissing something off that’s so powerful it can turn the land inside out like an umbrella. I find it best, and safest, Fairlight, to keep ones opinions to oneself when around those more powerful than you.”

“A word to the wise?” I asked.

“Take it as you will,” Clarion said shrugging. “It’s the proudest nail that gets hammered hardest.”

“Is this how wendigo society is in the afterlife then?” I asked questioningly. “Conformist? I never thought wendigo would bow their heads to-”

Clarion’s face darkened suddenly making me take a step back in surprise. “You were never a part of our society!” he hissed. “How can you know what it was like for us back then? Or what it’s like for us now?”

“I’ll never know if you won’t tell me,” I replied levelly. “I want to know, Clarion. My memories of Maroc and Arathea are-”

“For Luna’s sake, how many times do I have to tell you not to mention their bloody names, you idiot!” Clarion was careful to keep his voice down, but his anger was as bright as his yellow eyes.

I took a breath and spoke through gritted teeth, “Why the hell not? Their memories are in my head whether I like it or not. And besides, I’ve met the guy. He doesn’t seem-”

“You met him?!” Suddenly Clarion grabbed me and shoved me to one side, allowing the others to pass in silence. “Now you listen to me, Fairlight Loam, there are… things you don’t know. Things I can’t tell you, understand? But if you want to keep your head on your shoulders then believe me when I say this: don’t ever, ever, mention Maroc or Arathea around the others, especially Taurs. In fact it would be better if you pretend they don’t exist at all, alright? For all our sakes.”

“No.”

“What?” Clarion closed his eyes. “Fairlight, we don’t have time for this!”

“Then give me a reason, Clarion,” I said pointedly. “Tell me why. Why should I trust you, or any of you? This whole business is so off the bloody wall I still can’t get my head around everything that’s happened, and now I’m stuck halfway up a mountain without a damned clue who you guys are, let alone why you’re helping me. I’ve trusted ponies in the past and my family were butchered like lambs to the slaughter as a result. So as I see it the least you can do is tell me something, anything, about what I’m blundering blindly into.”

Clarion’s yellow eyes searched my own for a moment until finally, with an exasperated breath, he spoke, “There are two factions here in the Darklands. One is lead by Vela, the other by his father, Maroc. Maroc’s people believe that this is their new home and they can live here in peace with the thestrals and equestrians alike. Vela’s…” He contorted his face as if subconsciously trying to fight the words from coming out. “Vela’s faction don’t believe that,” he managed. “They… They believe that they can...” To my amazement, Clarion’s mouth moved as though he were talking, yet not a single word came out. His expression was one of befuddled surprise, but also bore a hint of what I can only describe as weary resignation. Suddenly he gave himself a shake and abruptly jabbed me in the chest with a hoof nearly taking me off balance. “Enough!” He snapped. “You can either come with us or leave, that’s all there is to it. Take what I’ve told you and pay attention to it or else please yourself, Equestrian. I suggest you do the former.”

“Clarion…?” I watched as the grey stallion turned away.

“What’s going on here?” It was Taurs. He must have come back to see where his charge had disappeared to. “Clarion? What are you two talking about?”

“Telling him to keep his opinions to himself,” Clarion replied levelly. “It’s bad enough being stuck up here with a Celestian without his constant jabbering driving us to distraction. I’m not losing any of my brothers because of a damned-”

Taurs held up a hoof stopping him mid-sentence. “I understand. Get back to the others, Clarion.” He gave me a sidelong glance while Clarion walked away. “I would suggest you heed his advice,” he said in a surprisingly polite manner. “There are those amongst us who find being questioned by outsiders profoundly unsettling.” Taurs glanced back at me as he turned to follow his comrade, “If you had been one of the tribe, then you would know. I don’t blame you for not understanding our ways, Fairlight. All I ask is that you show some respect to our wishes whilst you are in our company. We shall part ways soon enough.”

I watched Taurs walk off along the rocky track, his coat blending in with the grey of the mountain. I honestly didn’t know what to make of him. I didn’t like him, that was damned sure, and I was certain the feeling was decidedly mutual too. But what did personal likes and dislikes matter in the greater scheme of things? Taurs was simply a unicorn who had been instructed to help me find the Roc’s egg, at least on the face of it. As for why exactly, I didn’t know, and Clarion quite clearly had no intention of telling me either. I’d hoped earlier that he was going to divulge some snippet, some tantalising kernel of truth that could help me unravel this riddle. But no, for whatever reason he had decided to remain silent. Something stank here, and it wasn’t just my evening’s meal repeating on me either. Whatever was going on would reveal itself in time. Of that, I had no doubt. I just had to be ready for it when it did. For now though I had a job to do, and I had to hurry to catch up with the others or else find myself genuinely lost in this eerie place. A faint mustiness caught at my nose making me sneeze as I picked up the pace. A quick sniff revealed that there really was something stinking, in a decidedly more physical as well as immediate sense. Goddesses, I really needed a bath!

One of the things that rock climbers never tell you is how bloody tedious such a dangerous pastime can be. Hours of torturous trekking through canyons and mountain passes where it was nigh on impossible to put your hoof down without something trying to turn your ankle blended perfectly with endless exhaustion from hauling not only yourself but half the contents of the local blacksmith’s on your back. To think some ponies actually did this for fun. Fun for Luna’s sake! Well, not this stallion. Personally I had a mind to turn right around and go straight back to Lord Maul and stuff my hoof right down his damned thestral throat. Eggs? Bah! In the name of all the gods in the herd, what a steaming pile of dung this madness was turning out to be. No, hang on, that wasn’t right… it was a pile of dung. A hot, reeking mess of filth straight from the bowels of the underworld. Every miserable damned second of sweat-wringing effort was all in aid of finding some pointless nonsense so some overstuffed arrogant prig could have a fried egg for breakfast. I hoped he choked on the blasted thing. Angrily I grabbed the dangling rope and tied it around my harness, gave a whistle, and up I went. According to Pulias and Kadun, our erstwhile guides here in the arse end of nowhere, this was the shortest route and bypassed a rather large cave mouth that the word ‘ominous’ had been invented specifically to describe. With every heave of the rope, with every jarring lurch of my ascent, I peered down into the rocky valley in the distance and wondered what monstrous thing lived inside that place. I prayed I would never find out. I had an issue with caves, especially ones that contained things bigger than me. In my experience the denizens of these dark places tended to be mean, distinctly antisocial in nature, and usually had a lot more teeth than was absolutely necessary for any normal living creature. Oh, and did I mention they were almost invariably hungry too? Goddesses in their heaven, could I help being so succulent? Still, the view from up here was absolutely stunning I suppose. I could see for miles. And wished I couldn’t…

My knees trembled as I was half dragged and half hauled up onto the ledge. Pulias held a hoof up to his mouth in a ‘shushing’ motion. “Whatever you do,” he whispered, “keep quiet.”

“Are we nearing the nest?” I asked hopefully.

Kadun answered, helping untie my harness before lowering it down for the last of us. “Ice dragons,” he explained. “They’re usually hibernating this time of year so shouldn’t cause us any problems. The normal route takes us by their cave, but I don’t want to take chances waking them up. We don’t have the magic to fight them as we are.”

I nodded in silence. Bloody hell! Bit of an issue with the small print on the old holiday brochure then, eh? ‘Visit the magnificent Gods Hoof mountains where you can enjoy the stunning vistas and rugged beauty of nature’. ‘Some visitors may experience a slight chance of being eaten alive by angry dragons’ did not appear anywhere on the brochure I’d seen. Come to think of it, just how long ago was the Darklands tourism boom? The beginning of time perhaps? Damn it all… Anyway, weren’t we- wait… what was that? Was something moving down there? I thought for a second I saw somepony, even if only for the blink of an eye, darting from behind one rock to another not far from the mouth of the cave. I blinked and rubbed my eyes. No, nothing down there but grey rocks on a grey background in a sea of boring greyness. Not content with the constant risk of falling to my death, breaking a leg, or being eaten by dragons, my mind was now starting to make me see things too! Gods, I hated this place!

I was still locked in my darkened mood throughout the rest of our ascent. From up here you could just about make out a path - for want of a better word - meandering through the mountain range like a pale string of spaghetti. It was one of the few discernible features others than rocks, rocks, and more rocks. It felt like a lifetime ago when I had sat with Briar in her warm hut drinking tea and exchanging tales. She had told me briefly of the wendigo who had passed through the Gods Hoof mountains on their way to colder climes that suited them better than the verdant fields of the Eternal Herd. Well, if cold and bleak was your bag then this certainly ticked all the right boxes. Personally I preferred green grass and warm sunshine to freezing my nuts off on the side of some goddess forsaken rock like this, but then, each to their own. I’ll confess there was still that part of me that pined for the snow capped mountains of the northern wastes and the pale blue of the morning sky. But that was the wendigo in me. What was left of it anyway. For these guys, these poor buggers stuck in an eternity of self-imposed exile, it was all they knew. And if there was one thing I knew about wendigo, it was that they didn’t know how to let go. I suppose it was just as well considering what we were doing right now.

The climbing cleats on my overshoes bit into the rock, enabling me to haul my tired carcase around the boulder which had rolled down the mountain to lodge itself right in the middle of our path. Going over it or pushing it out of the way unfortunately hadn’t viable options. The first choice could mean a long fall to a very messy end if your hooves slipped, and the other could piss off the dragons down below – a scenario that would doubtless end with full stomachs. Stomachs full of small grey ponies. That said, I think I was just about beginning to get the hang of this climbing lark now. And the larks could keep it too. Once this nonsense was over and I got back down to ground level I never wanted to see another rock again as long as I lived. Metaphorically speaking of course. Nope, it was going to be gloriously flat land as far as the eye could see from here on in for me, and if I had to go into town up that hill, then it was going to be in the back of a taxi. Ponies, Fairlights particularly, were not mountain goats. The wind up here too… Good goddesses, I would never moan about the lack of a breeze again! The elements seemed to be conspiring to try to rip me from my already tentative grip on the track and toss me bodily over the edge to certain ruin. It had been picking up for a while now, but was starting to really take hold. I could hardly hear anything over the roaring. My eyes were streaming, and for the first time in as long as I could remember, I actually felt cold. It wasn’t too unpleasant on its own especially, but combined with the fatigue and everything else, I wanted nothing more than to collapse and get some sleep. Taurs must have read my mind too. Either that or he’d picked up on the body language of the rest of the group. We were all exhausted, and when he finally called a halt my legs all but gave way.

“No fires,” Taurs said guardedly, “and no smoking either.”

“Roc’s have a good sense of smell,” Lyrin clarified leaning close to me. “We’re near the nest now.”

“How near?” I asked.

Kadun sat down heavily next to me and leaned back against the unforgiving rock wall of our meagre shelter. “A few hours, if that.” He unclipped his equipment, letting it fall to the ground. “We’ll have to wait until the Roc’s flown off on a hunt before we scale the last of the face.”

“Scale?” I blinked in surprise. “How high up is the nest?”

“High enough,” Kadun groaned. “We can use magic to rope the last part, but we’ll have to be in and out quick or else...”

“We’re dinner,” Lyrin finished for him. “Anyway, that’s what you’re here for, right?”

“Ah, I see.” I let out a mirthless laugh, “Let’s hope Fairlight is off the menu for Rocs, eh?” I unbuckled my own equipment and leaned over to help Clarion set up the magically operated heater. We’d be able to get a hot drink out of it before the gems gave out, but thankfully we had plenty of spares. “I hope Maul likes eggs,” I said to nopony in particular, “because he’s going to be eating nothing else for the next week if it’s as big as I think it’s going to be.”

“You got the bag?” Clarion asked.

“Yeah, all set.” I tapped the empty padded bag for emphasis then returned to stirring the tea leaves into the pot. It was no simple task either; my hooves were shaking so much with the cold now I could barely feel them.

“Chilly?” Clarion asked.

I nodded, “Freezing. It’s strange, I don’t normally feel the cold as a rule. I kinda hoped that the wendigo part of me would’ve been able to handle it. Some luck, eh?”

“We’re all feeling it,” Lyrin chipped in. “It’s the reason the ice dragons are here. The areas full of raw magic.”

“Raw magic?” I shuffled a little closer to the heater to try and garner as much heat as I could. The others followed suit, making a warm, furry, wind-break. “You’re talking about elemental magic, right?” I asked. “The stuff left over from the time of creation?”

Hoofsteps from behind us announced the arrival of Pulias and Taurs who joined our circle. It was definitely warming up nicely in here now, and the smell of sweaty stallions was almost tolerable too. Fortunately the tea was a pleasant distraction from the odorous assault on my nostrils. “Raw magic is the magic of the goddess herself,” Pulias announced confidently. “She made her mark upon the land with her hoof to show us the way.”

“The way to what?” I asked genuinely intrigued.

“Not ‘what’, ‘Where’.” Taurs blew on his hooves and held them out towards the heater. “It is the gateway to the mountain where our people now live,” he explained. “If living is what you can call it. It is more of an existence now, especially for those who knew the freedom of the spirit.”

I could understand what Taurs was talking about. I may not have been a wendigo all my life like they had, but their loss had been a thousand years ago. My own was still recent, and whenever I let my guard down it was waiting there like a cat patiently watching a mouse for the right time to strike. And strike it did. I rarely spoke to Meadow about how I felt, but I think she knew, at least on some level. She knew I was hurting, but what could she do? I was in pain, both in my heart and my soul, and there was nothing anypony could do to help. The ones who could have done something would have done so centuries ago if there had been a way. No, there was no help from the gods for any of us.

Screw them. All of them.

The rest of the evening rolled on with stories of family life back home, foals, marefriends, and even on to discussions surrounding the rumours about the various thestral tribes and their intrigues in the great hall. Eventually talk turned to discussing the latest happenings in the mortal realm. Considering they lived a fairly remote and secluded lifestyle, the wendigo here had a well informed hoof on current affairs which I found quite surprising. They knew about the invasion of the changelings, the royal wedding of Cadence and Shining armour, even more mundane matters such as the infestation of parasprites in Ponyville of all places. I’d heard of that one, and I was damned glad I hadn’t been on duty in the village when the bloody things had swarmed. Blasted things were a nuisance living near the forest, but the wiser amongst us kept well away from their breeding grounds. Even so, I’d found one in my workshop one day. I don’t know how the bloody thing had got in there, but fortunately I discovered very quickly that they aren’t immune to brute force, ignorance, and the swift application of a rounders bat. I hadn’t dared give it back to Meadow after that. It had been her keepsake from school and was signed by the whole team too. Now it was little more than a lump of dented wood stained with parasprite gore, and nothing seemed to get those stubborn stains out. One day I may confess what happened to her memento of yesteryear, but it could wait. I wonder whatever happened to it? Probably rotting along with my old home... and my dreams. I yawned widely, swallowed the last of my tea, and spooned up with the others around the dying light of the fire gem. The flickering red light was just like Shadow’s eyes: so warm, so gentle, and with a hidden heat that could burn you if you could got too close. What I wouldn’t give for a snuggle right now. Instead, I had to put up with farting ponies. Beggars, it seemed, really couldn’t be choosers. And with the amount of gas in that small space it was just as well Taurs had put a ban on having any naked flames.

Chapter Thirteen - Unlucky for Some

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

UNLUCKY FOR SOME

Morning broke with the deafening sound of air booming into our cramped alcove. As I looked up in alarm I could see Taurs and one of the others pressed against the rock walls, staring into the sky as if waiting for something. I didn’t have to wait long for that ‘something’ to appear either. Suddenly the two stallions ducked down as an unfathomably huge shadow plunged the alcove into absolute darkness, and the back to what passed for light in the Darklands. I jumped up and hurried to try and see what it was they were staring at. Part of me wished I hadn’t.

“Bloody hell fire, look at the size of that thing!” I gasped.

“She’ll circle twice before going off on her hunt,” Kadun said hurriedly. “That’s only her first pass. The second will be any… second… now! Down!”

We all ducked as the shadow plunged our tiny sanctuary into darkness once more. All I could do then was stare after the enormous avian monster flying away from us with a leisurely grace that belied the sheer scale of the feathered creature. Dear goddesses, what did it eat? Dragons?! When they’d told me it was a large eagle they didn’t warn me just how big. The claws on the thing were so huge they could easily uproot a house, and that beak… oh gods, it could swallow a cow in one gulp. Or a pony for that matter. Part of me felt chilled to the bone at the prospect of facing such a foe, especially an angry one. The other part of me, as usual, thrummed with excitement. Celestia’s arse, my mind would kill me one of these days. Again!

“Gear up. Quickly!” Taurs hissed to the others. “The old lady’s early today.” He turned to me, “I hope you’re ready, Fairlight, because there’s no going back now.”

I pulled on the last of my barding, ropes and packs, checking they were all buckled and cinched up. “Ready.”

Taurs took a breath, faced the rest of his team, and nodded, “Let’s move!”

We’d gone over the plan for the next leg of our adventure in the small hours of the morning, well before dawn. Naturally the indomitable Taurs had covered everything in meticulous detail, with the help of his deputies Kadun and Pulias. Now, with the Roc away on her morning hunt, we quickly swung into action. The fact that I ‘wasn’t one of the tribe’, as I’d been referred to on more than one occasion, was all but forgotten now as we helped each other up the last few ledges above us. Squeezing along a particularly narrow section we shimmied up to yet another ledge, and then… then we were there - the final prize. And what a prize! It was extraordinary. I stared in open mouthed awe at the unmistakable outline of a gigantic birds nest perched impossibly on a rocky outcrop. Normally the word ‘nest’ conjures up images of blackbirds, sparrows, and all the nice little woodland birds that visited our quiet cottage back home. Ha! You certainly wouldn’t find many blackbirds carrying tree trunks! And that, quite literally, was exactly what had been used to build this fantastical structure. With a level of skill that would have put some of the best equestrian architects to shame, whole trees had been plucked from the ground, stripped of all foliage and limbs, and then placed with near surgical precision into an interlocking bowl shape that was home to the largest eagle I had ever seen. And one I prayed I never would again.

The grappling hook thudded into one of the trunks, and just like that, up I went. The ingenious pulley system the wendigo had created leant itself perfectly to use by either magic or muscle. On my own it would have been possible, sure, but definitely a difficulty I would have balked at at the best of times. If Taurs and his team hadn’t been here to help me I don’t know what I would have done. Finding it would have been a near impossible task in itself let alone hauling my sorry bag of bones up a mountain of all things. Below me the stallions heaved. Above, my hoof cleats thunked into the rock, and then, the first of the logs. Thunk. Another. Thunk. My hind legs dangling below me scrabbled for purchase, denying the insistent pull of gravity. Another heave later, and another log cleared. Reluctantly I had to free myself from the grapple to allow myself to move sideways so as to find a way of clearing the side of the nest. The projections from where the logs joined provided convenient hoof holds on my way up, ones which I took full advantage of until, slowly and surely, I gradually moved up the side of this alien structure. ‘Structure’ being the operative word too. Gods, how big was this thing! I felt like I’d been at this madness for hours until finally, with one last sweat dripping heave, I reached the top and stared into the feather-laden interior.

It was empty.

My heart sank. Brush, hides, bones, faeces, and only the gods-knew-what littered the vast nest, but of the egg there was no sign. All that sat there were three… boulders. Hang on, boulders? Dear goddesses, they looked like they’d rolled down the mountain and formed part of the nest, but no… No, they were the eggs! My heart leaping into my throat I scrambled over to them – no pun intended - and nimbly grabbed the smallest one, pulled off my carry pack, and stuffed the cursed thing inside. I just hoped hoped the canvas contraption would hold together for the trip back. The pack was padded, sure, but if I dropped it I doubted Maul would let me off with a ‘Oh well, you tried your best’ together with a playful pat on the rump. He might have been a cordial host thus far, but thestrals were strange creatures with an equally unfathomable sense of honour. Fair they may be, but failure was met with nothing short of what I could only describe as a ‘grim finality’. Look at poor old Lance for example – cocked up the warrior test and the next thing you know he’s been relegated to planting spuds for the rest of eternity. Or at least he would have been if he hadn’t offered himself up as a sacrifice for some insane reason that only made sense to lunatics. Gods help me, this whole world was round the twist! I wanted to get this madness over with and go home as fast as my little old legs could carry me!

A shout from below caught my attention and I scurried over to peer down at the grey forms staring back at me. “Have you found any?” one called up.

“Yes!” I bellowed.

One of them called back, “Lower the bag first and then hook up to the grapple. We’ll bring you down next.”

“I’m on it!” I hurriedly tied one of my ropes to the bag’s carry handles and carefully began to lower it down to the waiting wendigo below. Gently, inch by torturous inch, the bag containing the precious cargo drew closer to the ground, until...

“We’ve got it!” One shouted up. “Hook yourself up to the grapple!”

Right then the overwhelming sense of relief was something I doubt I’d ever be able to replicate again. A shame really, I’d have made a fortune if I could have bottle it for sale. Instead I moved like a machine, trying not to think of the drop, the possibility of the grapple giving way, the way my body was dangling from the end of a rope and-

“Fairlight, for the goddess’s sake hurry up will you!”

Luna knows, I tried. Suddenly the rope thrummed and I dropped a few feet and stopped. Again there was the sensation of tension in the line, that awful thrumming sound, and then a jolt that caught at my insides and made me give an involuntary cough. What the hell was going on? Wiping my eyes I looked down and saw the anxious faces staring back up at me. One of them was pointing at something. Oh gods… My mouth went dry. It was all I could do to follow their gestures as my heart sank like a lead weight. It was the pulley on the grapple. I couldn’t believe what I was looking at no how much I stared at it. The rope had fouled. One piece of a bark, a small piece of perfectly placed bloody bark, had effectively jammed the mechanism solid. Damn it all! The only thing I could do now was climb back up, free the blasted thing, and-

“LOOK OUT!”

A black shadow raced over the rock face plunging me into darkness, and then, just as quickly, I was back in the twilight of day. I didn’t need to see it. I didn’t need to say it either. Gods, I could have written the script myself. Mummy had come home early…

The monstrous avian circled once and then came in for a landing that made the whole mountain quake. More importantly, had she seen us? I shook the thought from my mind and tried to climb back to clear the snag, fighting against every part of me that screamed the opposite. But what choice did I have? I reached up, pulled, and focussed my magic on the pulley, trying to rip the piece of bark free. As if in answer to my barely controlled fears, from above me the plaintive call of some hapless wild beast was abruptly ended in a deafening hiss and rattle of tearing flesh and splintered bone. I tried to ignore the sounds in spite of the warm blood spattering my muzzle. I don’t think I’ll ever forget that helpless cry though, nor the smell of the gore that even now makes me gag with the mere memory of that time. Right then my heart was hammering like a steam train’s pistons and my breathing was just as hard, but at last, with a sharp satisfying snap, the last piece of bark mercifully came free. Unfortunately so did I. The rope that held me, now suddenly free of obstruction, shot through the pulley with a horriblly loud hiss. Gravity, that most inexorable of forces, finally had its victim. I was in a free fall, gasping in shock as the world flew by me in a blur of grey. One thought however managed to fight its way to the surface: why hadn’t the pulley worked?! It was supposed to-

In a stomach wrenching lurch, the rope stopped dead. The harness dug hard into my stomach and ribs in an eye-watering snap that I was certain was at least one of my ribs giving way. Pain sizzled through me, bringing with it the bitterness of bile into my throat while I slowly began to rotate like a griffin’s kebab. “Celestia’s… arse...” I gasped. Below me I could faintly make out some of the wendigo who were hanging desperately onto the rope which was the only thing between me and the joys of forced reincarnation. To my horrified amazement though, others were arguing about something in hushed tones instead of helping their comrades get me down. I could see them looking at me, looking at the nest, at each other, and then freezing like statues as the scream of outrage from above signalled mother finding one of her babies missing. My ears were still ringing when pieces of bark and scraps of flesh rained down on me from the edge of the nest. Slowly, terrifyingly, I looked up into the huge golden eye staring back at me with unadulterated hatred. I couldn’t blame her I suppose. I had stolen one of her children, and now she had the thief in her sights. Better yet I didn’t have anything to fight back with either. Gods, what a way to go...

I flinched away as the Roc’s hooked beak snapped out with lightning speed, missing her intended target by mere inches and instead catching on the rope. Foetid breath washed over me, the stench of blood and gore from her recent meal strong enough to turn even the strongest stomach, but all I could concentrate on right then was hanging on for all I was worth and praying to whatever gods were listening for a miracle. Harsh cries of avian outrage battered me like a hurricane, the sound of giant wings beating the air with a ferocity that felt as though it was all around me, reverberating off the mountains and echoing in the valley below. I squeezed my eyes shut tight. From above me the splintering sharp report of claws raking wood, and then... the rush of air once more.

I fell.

I’ve heard ponies say that your life flashes before your eyes just before death. I can’t say I remember too well whether it did or not in my case, despite the fact I’ve been killed once already and very nearly on more occasions than I care to recall. In this instance however, all I saw was the nest above me, a trailing rope, and the horrible feeling of my stomach trying to climb out of my throat. At least fear didn’t have much time to grip me, the landing did a good enough job of that itself. What must have been a millisecond from impact the glow of magic enveloped me, but as life saving as it may have been it wasn’t quite enough to stop me from being abruptly reacquainted with the solidity of rocks. Helpless to the forces of gravity I slammed bodily onto the ledge, briefly catching sight of Clarion and a couple of the others before bouncing like a rubber ball towards the canyon below. In those few terrifying seconds the world span horribly. I was going to die. I knew that. What a bloody joke! Celestia arse, you had laugh didn’t you! This had all been so avoidable too. Should have stayed at home, Fairlight old boy! A sudden thought entered my mind: would I be be reincarnated as another pony? I’d be able to start all over again then wouldn’t I? You could see the appeal I suppose. I’d be a clean slate, the past washed away with a whole new world of possibilities lying before me. Mind you, I didn’t fancy going through puberty again. That had been a right bloody nightmare of raging hormones and teenage angst I wouldn’t have wished on my worst enemy. Still, to be able to start again, to reset your life when you’d made a dog’s dinner of this one, was not something to be sniffed at. It came at a cost though, and a terrible one at that. Everything that made me ‘me’: the thoughts, hopes, and aspirations of the poor sod named Fairlight Loam, would be gone. Gone as if they’d never existed in the first place. I suppose it wouldn’t be too bad though, after all I- “Oof!”

“Hang on, we’re pulling you up!”

Oh, thank Luna! Despite the pain in my chest I felt a wash of relief for the second time that day. Of course the fact that I was dangling over a sheer drop and spinning like a top was something of a distraction right at that moment, and I was also starting to wonder just what the hell was going on up there on the ledge. Seconds ticked by. The sounds of arguing and scuffling from above was doing nothing for my state of mind either, let alone my chances of survival.

“Guys?” I wheezed. “A little help?”

A face appeared over the ledge a moment later, “Fairlight, we won’t-” Clarion vanished again, followed this time by shouting and the rope bouncing me up and down like some large furry yo-yo.

Rotating round again I managed to snag the rope in my teeth. Sod this for a game of soldiers! Surely I could do something to help myself, couldn’t I? If I could somehow haul myself up I could get some purchase on the ledge and-

“Fairlight! For Luna’s sake, we-” Clarion never finished his sentence. The grey stallion’s eyes went wide as the shining point of a blade burst from his neck in a bright spray of shimmering crimson. My friend’s gore rained down upon me, warm and steaming in the cold air.

“Clarion!” But my cry was too late for the wendigo. Far too late.

With agonising inevitability the blood soaked grey form slowly tipped forward and toppled into the empty air below. I followed a split second later before the rope was pulled taught once more. All the commotion was attracting attention from our furious mother too, as a scream of rage rolled out around the mountains from the Roc who was now circling above us, doubtless looking for a way to add us to today’s breakfast options. It was only a matter of time before she gobbled me up, and like poor Clarion I’d end up as just another casualty of these cold, unforgiving mountains. Damn it all, I had to do something! I focussed my magic on the rope and tried as hard as I could to haul myself up while my hooves scrabbled at the rock, trying to get purchase in a desperate attempt to reach the ledge. What the hell was going on up there anyway? Had they gone mad?! I was swearing under my breath, fighting with the rope and my pathetically inept magic when another face appeared over the ledge. It was Taurs.

“Taurs!” I swallowed, trying in vain to keep the stinging sweat and blood out of my eyes. “What the hell are you doing?! Pull me up!”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, ‘my lord’.” Taurs’ lips curled up at the corners into a sickening grin that made my blood run colder than the mountain air. “You see,” he sneered, “it would appear your ‘reign’ has come to a rather… unexpected end.”

I spat out the rope. “Taurs, you bastard!” I bellowed. “You murdered Clarion!” Anger began to replace my fear, warming my veins. For all the good it would do. “Why?” I yelled impotently. “Why kill him?”

“Why?” Taurs frowned for a moment before answering, “Because he was impure of course, like you. I warned him not to involve himself with a half-breed.”

“You killed him because he spoke to me?” I shouted back. “Because he treated me like a brother?” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

“You were never his brother!” Taurs’ eye flashed dangerously as the rope slipped an inch. “He betrayed us! He sold his people out for a half-breed he didn’t even know! You call yourself a wendigo when you are nothing more than the bastard son of a filthy whore! A whore who betrayed her blood to beget a mongrel that has the affront to call himself the ‘Lord of the Four Winds’!” Spittle flew from the grey stallion’s mouth in his rage. “You never were the lord of the wendigo, you fool! How could you be? You are nothing but a mud grubbing Celestian. You are NOTHING!”

I stared deep into those cold golden eyes. “I don’t give a damn about what you think, Taurs,” I said levelly. “You’re nothing more than a common murderer with the blood of one of your own tribe on your hooves. You can me what you will, but don’t you dare, don’t you dare call my mother a whore, you verminous scum!”

“Scum am I?” Taurs laughed suddenly. “I’m the one holding your life by a rope, mongrel. I am the one who will decide whether you live or die. What say you to that?”

“I say...” I closed my eyes and said a quick prayer in my heart. “I say… Go buck yourself, you inbred son of a bitch.”

Was I mad? Had I finally lost my senses? Well, it too late now anyway. Whatever had possessed me to unclip my harness from the rope had made the decision for me, denying Taurs the pleasure of killing me himself. But as I plunged downward to what was going to be a messy but probably quick end, at least I could die with the satisfaction of having seen the fury on Taurs’ face at my defiance of him. Why he had done what he did though, I had no idea. But I could guess. All the pieces were there, all lined up neatly like dominoes. Clarion had befriended me and had tried to warn me, but Taurs had never been far away, had he? There were two factions amongst the wendigo: Maroc’s, and Vela’s. No prizes for guessing whose team Taurs batted for. Clarion, I suspected, was one of Maroc’s boys. Or rather had been one of Maroc’s boys. The poor sod was now a bloody mess on the valley floor. Just about where I was about to end up to any second…

I closed my eyes, waiting for the end. My body impacted a heartbeat later, driving some of the air from my lungs and setting off a shock of pain from my broken ribs. But oddly, no rocky splatter? A deafening shriek screamed through my ears and I began to slide backwards. On something... soft. Soft and decidedly un-rock like. I opened my eyes in a flash and grabbed the nearest thing I could in my teeth. The musty taste of feathers filled my mouth, but despite my state of mind numbing shock I hung on for dear life while the impossibility of my new predicament began to unfold. Rather like the landscape far below.

I’d never ridden an eagle before. Of course, I’d rather it hadn’t have been so annoyed either, but beggars can’t be choosers. The wind was ridiculous though, and with each sweep of those enormous wings, my precarious grip on the Roc threatened to send me back into a free fall. I closed my eyes and dug my hooves, cleats and all, into my avian host. The Roc screamed in outrage and flew straight up, trying to shake me off, but I clung on like an equine tic. I had no intention of hurting her, but when my very existence was at stake then a few prickles in her back was something I could live with.

“Easy old girl,” I shouted, “I just want to get off you in one piece, that’s all.”

I doubted she understood me, and I didn’t really expect her to either. There were many magical and even non-magical creatures around that could speak equestrian of course. Some fluently too. But my feathered friend here reeked of animalistic rage and vengeance. What intelligence there was here was far from being in the mood for conversation in case, and if she had her way, tonight's menu would include me as a tasty entrée.

The Roc rolled, dove and banked, shaking me so hard I thought my brain was going to pour out of my ears. But the cleats, sharp steel claws of my own strapped solidly to my hooves, kept me on her back like glue. Around me all I could see was sky for the most part, accompanied by the mind reeling sight of mountains flashing by at incredible speeds. And then... we stopped. The Roc hovered in the air, keeping her station with a heavy, steady beat. She’d seen something, something below us. Her passenger forgotten, at least for the moment, the huge bird gave one final downward stroke of her wings, pulled them in tight to her sides, and dove.

There’s nothing I can say that could accurately describe the feeling of streaking down out of the sky the way we did. I tried to see, but the wind was making my eyes stream so much all I could tell was that there was something moving on the mountainside at speed that we were heading towards faster than a quarrel loosed from a crossbow. And a thousand times more deadly. The roc didn’t shriek now. She had her target in her sights and was a comet plunging to earth with a mind full of lethal intent.

I’d seen Tingles flare her wings when she came in to land many a time. Goddesses, I’d even tried it myself, if a little clumsily. But this creature, this monstrous bird of talon and claw, made a pegasi’s flying ability look like a pin prick compared to a lump hammer. The effect was the same of course, just with gale force winds, dust, and a scream that made my heart leap in horror. Sheer rock rose in front of us as the blood fountained, cutting the cry of terror off in a symphony of gore and body parts. Kadun, the guide, would guide no more in this world. His crimson soaked face sailed into the air and was snapped up only to be gulped down as though it were no more substantial than the air itself. Oh Celestia, I could feel her swallowing, feel her claws raking at the rock, and then we were up, up once more into the open sky. The next few minutes were a nightmarish terror ride of diving, screeching, and failed attempts to get at her prey. There were only three of them left now, and I can’t say I was feeling much in the way of empathy towards one of their number. As for the others… I don’t know. Had their acceptance of me been a facade this whole time? Had it all been a lie to fool me into doing their bidding? What about Lyrin? We’d chatted by the fire and shared a pipe and a cup of tea like a couple of old mates. Dear Luna, had I been hoodwinked so thoroughly? Damn it all, I’d known not to trust anypony, especially ones I’d only just met. I’d known! But Clarion… Clarion had tried to help me, hadn’t he? And Taurs, that little rat, had stabbed him from behind like the cowardly murderer he was. So… I was a mongrel was I? A half-breed son of a whore and a mud grubber? I felt a sizzle of anger race through me and I clung on even harder to my host, willing her onward. Not towards her intended target, but rather, my own.

Taurs.

The roc flew around in a circle gaining height with each beat of her wings. I wondered for a moment if she’d lost sight of her prey and my heart sank. I wanted Taurs. I wanted to see his body broken, dashed upon the rocks of the valley floor. Like Clarion. Like my friend. Damn him. Damn him!

“Come on you stinking pile of rags,” I roared, “let’s do this! COME ON!”

We hung in the air defying gravity’s pull, and once again the great eagle tilted downwards, pulled in her wings, and arrowed like a bolt from the gods towards her prey. This time my eyes were wide open despite the stinging of the cold wind. My mane and tail whipped out behind me as I howled out into the chill air all of my pent up rage and pain. I had lost too many friends. I had lost far too many. Taurs may not have been the architect of this, but he was a part of it. A part that I would remove from existence the way he had removed Clarion. The winds howled around me, and I howled with it. The thrill of the hunt and the lust for vengeance, so long lost, now re-emerged from its frozen cocoon deep within my soul. Pain, loss, anger, and the chains of magic that bound it all together, rattled something loose. Thin tendrils of magic, the finest of cracks of frozen blue light, moved and shifted, stretching their roots out little by little. My teeth itched. My hooves itched. My back burned with the intoxicating sensations of freedom and release. Oh goddess, give me the strength to see this through. And if not, if you don’t listen, then to hell with you.

“I will take it myself. I will walk into your halls of decadence and tear your home down until I have what is mine once more.”

Suddenly a plume of small rocks flew up at us in a shower from the ground, some hitting the great eagle and making her alter her flight in surprise. One of them hissed by my ear, missing me by mere inches whilst others thudded into the roc’s chest. I doubt they would have been enough to cause her any significant injury considering her size, however it was enough to distract her. Startled, she shrieked in alarm and anger, rolled, and began to pull away from her quarry.

No...

NO!

I looked behind and below us at the dwindling figures running for the valley and the shelter where the roc was too large to go. I couldn’t let them get away! Not now! In that blink of time, in that second of rage... I let go.

“Taurs!”

I twisted my body to angle towards the ground.

“TAURS!”

I couldn’t move properly. The straps from the pulley harness were stopping my body moving the way it should. The way it needed to. I gritted my teeth, pulled at the remnants of the leather, and felt a wash of relief as it fell away. But now I too was falling, speeding like an arrow towards the running grey figures, my body screaming in alarm, but also excitement. I was near now. So near! Two of the ponies, running for all they were worth, stared back at me and as one their magic began to glow. A lance of blue light seared past me whilst the another sent another shower of rocks up at me. With no more than a thought, if even that, I pulled up in a blast of air and brushed the debris aside. How dare they? How dare they! They had to be taught a lesson. I smiled, feeling a shudder of joy rumble in my throat and chest. Oh, I would teach them alright! More light burned past me into the dark sky, ploughing into the mountainside and shattering rock and stone. I could see it coming even before they’d conjured their pitiful magic.Dear gods how I’d missed this! I missed this so much! I began to laugh, laughing aloud with the sheer joy of life and the unimaginably liberating feeling of freedom, when I slammed into the ground ahead of my prey, turning on crystal hooves and flaring my wings. They would know now. They would know who had come for them.

“Taurs...” I rumbled. “Taurs, you bastard. Time to pay.” A bolt of magic flew from the lead stallion, burning past my wing. “Defiant,” I hissed. “Good. Now, allow me to show you your first lesson in humility.”

Magic screamed for release inside me and I let it have full rein. I would hold nothing back now. I had been holding onto so much all these years, and now… now I was free. FREE! I barely even noticed the flash of blue light, the open mouthed silent cry of horror as the magic took him. The body lay twitching on the ground. But wait… the egg… was the egg safe? I shook off the realisation of what I had done and walked towards the body, settling my wings by my side. The other stallion was saying something now, but I had no time for his prattle. I had to make sure the egg was safe so I could take it back to Maul and shove it down his neck. I’d enjoy listening to him choke…

“Lord Fairlight, please!”

I ripped the ragged remains of the wendigo’s packs from his body and searched them. Was it…? No! It wasn’t there! I stared down at the body. This wasn’t Taurs! This was one of the others. Pulias? Yes, it was Pulias one of the guides. My nose twitched; I could taste his life essence leaching from his body, little by little. It was different from the mortal realm, decidedly more… tangy? Yes… tangy. I chuckled under my breath, breathing in the ethereal mist that rose from the torn creature that had lead me to this vile place. And I fed. I closed my eyes and licked my lips, feeling every drop, every single morsel of Pulias’ life force replenishing my body and fuelling my soul. I hadn’t realised how empty I had been, until I had been filled once more. It was so good. So, so good…

“Lord Fairlight!”

My head snapped round, my blue eyes reflecting in the terrified yellow eyed stare of…

“Lyrin?”

The grey stallion abruptly bowed his head and cast his gaze to the ground, “My lord, forgive me. Please! I had no idea what Vela had planned. I only came along to offer medical aid to my brothers and-”

“He has the egg?” I interrupted.

Lyrin nodded furiously, “Y… Yes, my lord. I have your things! Here...”

I took a step towards the trembling stallion and snatched up my packs and gear. “Where is he?” I snarled. “TELL ME!”

“He… He took the old road east that leads into the forest!” Lyrin babbled. “He has arranged for-”

I didn’t listen to the rest. My wings snapped out and hammered at the air, showering the frightened Lyrin in grit and dust. Once I may have been concerned about such trifles, but now, now all I could focus on was my desire to reach my quarry. And reach him I would. My wings bore me aloft in great bounds, biting into the frigid mountain air and allowing me an ever widening view of- There! I let out a loud neigh and twisted in the air, spiralling down as the eagle had taught me. I too pulled in my wings, angling them ever so slightly to control my angle of descent. I was picking up speed quickly, closing the distance between us with deadly certainty. It wouldn’t be long now. Not now. In a blur of white mist I shot over Taurs’ head and flared my wings, span, and landed before him. Two wide yellow eyes stared at me, but it was the pack on his back that had my attention. The egg. He had split up from his fellows to try and elude the roc. And me. The path he had chosen was a steep descent, but headed straight for the edge of a forest where he no doubt intended to disappear. How he had managed to make such headway was extraordinary considering how long he- There was a flash, a pulse of magic, and then Taurs simply… vanished. No, not quite ‘vanished’ as such. I could feel the magic tingling my horn and knew what was coming next. Ah! So that was how he’d moved so fast…

Taurs reappeared in a flash a millisecond later, and nearly ran straight into me. He was disorientated, breathing hard, and sank onto his haunches as he tried to catch his breath.

“Teleporting too much and too far will do that to you,” I said calmly knocking his sword from his grip. “Had enough now?”

Taurs let out a gruff laugh, and slowly, his eyes locked with mine. “Look at you,” he said wiping the sweat from his brow. Cold derision dripped with every word that oozed from his mouth, “the big stallion, the evil wendigo of foals nursery stories. Thief of a stolen heritage. The stolen dreams of a broken people.” He coughed and shook his head, “You make me sick.”

My ears twitched as my desire to take this arrogant killer apart warred with my need for information. Parts of the puzzle were still missing, and this stallion may be able to complete the picture. “You’re in no position to lecture anypony, Taurs. You murdered one of your own people.” I moved to one side, watching him carefully, “You murdered one of my people. Clarion was my brother as much as he was yours, and yet you took his life as though meant nothing to you. Nothing!”

The grey stallion spat out a mouthful of dust and spittle. “So full of righteous indignation aren’t we, mongrel?” He sneered at me. Gods how I wanted to put a hoof in that face! “Tell me, mongrel,” he continued, “How is it that you are able to change into a wendigo when our people cannot? What is it you have stolen from us that gives you such power? Well, thief? SPEAK!”

I stood and stared at him, the sudden realisation of what he was saying seeping into my anger fuelled brain. I took a deep breath and shook my mane, “I have stolen nothing from you, Taurs. I am who I always have been. Although I doubt you can say the same, am I correct?” I looked away a moment, thinking. “You know, ‘Taurs’,” I said quietly, “you really had me going for a while back there. Truthfully, you really did. I actually began to doubt what my instincts were telling me; that I had you wrong, and you were a stallion who had at least a shred of honour about him. But I really should listen to that little voice at the back of my mind, shouldn’t I?” I narrowed my eyes, “Vela...”

The grey stallion began to laugh, wiping his forehead with a hoof before raising his eyebrows and nodding, “My, aren’t you the bright one!” Taurs, or Vela as he truly was, leaned back on his haunches and smiled, “Oh, I was right about you. I was right!” He pointed a hoof at me mockingly. “You are the key to the lock, my mongrel friend. The lock that has trapped us for a thousand years. And do you want to know the best part?” He barked out a laugh, “You don’t even know it, do you?”

My teeth itched with anticipation, the rich tang of Pulias’ life essence still lingering on my tongue. He was stalling for time, and frankly, I’d had enough of him already. To hell with him then, I’d complete the puzzle on my own. I took a step towards him, “I don’t have time for your games, Vela. Give me the egg.”

“And then what?” He snorted. “You’ll let me go will you?” Vela shook his head and scratched his mane absently. “I wouldn’t be so quick to call me a murderer, my half breed friend. I know more about you than you know yourself.” Vela nodded slowly, emphasising his words. “I know all about your son too. Lumin, wasn’t it? Fascinating little unicorn. So much potential in one so young...”

The mention of my son and the words of Maroc came back to me. I had to protect him. I had to protect my son. “Shut your mouth,” I snarled.

“And your pegasus trollop,” Vela continued unabashed. “Extraordinary combination don’t you think, to create a life so full of power. So full of… possibilities.”

“I said shut your mouth!”

“But what about your wife, Fairlight? Doesn’t she mind you cavorting with these other mares?” Vela made an exaggerated act of deep thought. “Oh! I nearly missed one!” he exclaimed suddenly. “The thestral bitch, Shadow, yes? Goddess in her light, how could a stallion mate with one of those things? What a monstrosity that pairing could spew into the world!”

My blade was out now, the edge catching the light from my eyes.

“Ah, time to kill, yes?” Vela sighed and shook his head. “I don’t doubt you want to kill me, Fairlight. In fact I’d be more surprised if you didn’t. Wendigo need to feed you see, to fuel the magic and the strength inside them. It takes even the faintest spark of distrust or anger and fans it, nurses it, and finally brings it to a burning inferno of hate that takes over the mind to the point where all you can think of is to kill. To feed.” He shrugged his shoulders and smiled absently. “And thus, the cycle continues.”

“Trying to stall for time, Vela?” I mused. I hefted my scythe. “Time to pay the piper.”

“Oh, how very droll!” Vela’s smarmy expression belied his nervousness. I saw him take a step back, a bead of sweat breaking out on his forehead. He knew death had come for him, and no words of his could-

“I believe her name is... ‘Shade’, is it not?”

I froze in my tracks.

“It was curiosity as much as anything, you see,” Vela explained casually. “I wanted to see you for myself, in the flesh so to speak. I wanted to see just who this pony was who was trotting around Equestria calling himself the ‘Lord of the Four Winds’. After all, we’d all heard so much about you and your exploits, I simply couldn’t resist! You really are quite the celebrity about town, aren’t you?”

“What have done...” I was barely holding onto my anger at all now. The magic, so long missing and now finally loose and given its head, howled in my ears. In the background the blade sang to me in its own voice as the wind hissed over its razor sharp edge. “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!”

“Merely a little insurance, that’s all.” Vela hefted the pack containing the egg. “I would suggest, ‘Lord of the Four Winds’, that you find hurry back to your little skeleton girl. My friends can be quite... ‘anxious’ at times, and anxiety can lead a fellow to do some very strange things indeed.”

My mane bristled. “You… bastard!”

“Ah, ah!” Vela lifted a hoof in warning, “I have a tracking spell on me right now, and if anything ‘untoward’ happens to me then our dear little Shade will become like her namesake. Permanently.” The damned grey coated swine waved his hoof towards the forest, “Hurry on back to Bracken’s nest now little birdy. If you hurry, you might just make it in time.” He paused, “Oh, and don’t worry about the egg. It’s going to a very good home.”

Every part of me screamed out in rage and hatred at this arrogant monster of a unicorn. He had murdered my friend, threatened my son, and now he was threatening Shade and Bracken. If anything had happened to them… I took a breath and shook out my wings, turning to leave. Turning my anger away. “Vela...” I closed my eyes a moment, fighting down the primal urges that came as part and parcel of being a wendigo, “If anything has happened to them...” I half turned my head to him, “Being Maroc’s son will not save you.”

“We’ll see.” Vela rolled his shoulders and shook his mane expansively, “You’d better run along then.” His broad smile never reached his eyes. “I’ll be seeing you, Fairlight Loam.”

I didn’t reply. In a blast of air and grit, I leaped into the air. Launching from a standing start was a strain on your wings. A running or at least trotting start was a lot less effort. My mind however, was empty of such concerns. In actual fact it was empty of everything except the desire to act, and that desire I used to add strength and speed to my flight. Soaring over the forest below, a part of my mind began to ask - how? How had this happened? Somehow I had changed, and as insane as it may sound, I had barely even noticed. Like finding a set of your favourite slippers which still fit you as well as the first day you’d tried them on, I had slipped into my wendigo self as seamlessly as though it had never been away. Perhaps, it never truly had been. I’d heard that the spirit could never truly be purged from your soul, so the herd simply locked it away behind an impenetrable wall that could never be breached. Or so everypony thought. Now, ice cold anger and hatred burned through me with their familiar heat, infusing my body with a perplexing mix that warmed my heart and added urgency to each beat of my wings. How this had happened and what it meant for me was a concern I would contemplate in more detail when I had time. As for Vela… Dear gods, why hadn’t I seen it sooner? His convenient appearance, the way Clarion had been afraid to talk to me in front of him, and of course, how he had casually murdered Clarion for trying to help me. Murdered him because I had ‘tainted’ him with my mere presence. I was a ‘mongrel’ apparently. A half-breed. The children at school had called me a cart horse because of my grey coat and black mane and tail with their white stripes. No matter how much I would have wished it otherwise, I was a stark contrast to the brightly coloured pastel riot that surrounded me every single damned day. I looked, to put not too fine a point on it… boring. The fillies laughed at me, the colts teased me, but what hurt the most was how the parents and teachers alike looked at me with expressions bordering on pity. I was monochrome in a world of colour. Mum of course looked like what she was, the descendant of the wendigo tribe. Whether she truly knew what that meant or not I’ll never know for sure, but her sister, my Aunt Pewter, knew. She too was a descendant of the tribe and looked like it too. That batty old coot had wrapped herself in her ‘otherness’ by setting herself up as the local witch, completed with cauldron, skulls, potions, and wall to wall cats. I liked cats. Being able to cuddle something warm and fuzzy was a delight that didn’t always amuse the furry little creatures as much as it did me, but payment for such moments in the way of food and somewhere safe to sleep was a mutual relationship that cat owners like Aunt Pewter wore like a mantel. It was a symbiotic relationship that left no room for stallions in her life. Pewter’s husband, my uncle, had passed away when I was young. I’d hardly known him, and from I what I’d been told he’d been a fairly normal pony by all accounts. What he’d seen in a nut case like my aunt was a mystery I doubted anypony would ever solve. Pewter rarely mentioned him, but his picture still sat on the mantelpiece beside the pottery cats and her favourite skulls. I guessed she loved him in her own way. In between cleaning cat trays.

Chill air slipped over my wings, gliding over my fur and tingling my ears. It was surprisingly cold up here over the forest compared to the normally ambient temperature I’d come to associate with the Darklands, but it gave me a magnificent panoramic view of the afterlife home of the thestrals. From memory it looked just like the Withers, and was even more beautiful up here than I had given it credit for. If I hadn’t have been so focussed on reaching Briar and Shade I may have been crying with joy at that moment. Dear Celestia, I was flying. Flying! After all this time, all this lost time, I felt like myself once more. Without any conscious thought I howled out into the black sky above and across the lands below. It was a cry of joy and of release, of a spirit being freed from the shackles which bound both it and my soul conbined. I closed my eyes and licked my lips, feeling the sharp points of my teeth, the taste of magic on my tongue and breath. How could anypony lose something as wonderful, as magical as this, and stay sane? It was… it was unimaginable! Gods, no wonder the wendigo all wandered around with attitudes and sour faces all the time. I had only experienced a mere sliver of what they had, and that alone had done more damage to my state of mind than I cared to recall. I’d only lived with it for a short time. Imagine what it must have been like for them having lived with it for a lifetime only to have it all wrenched away? A shiver ran through me, and not one of cold.

The road cut through the forest like a knife, arrow straight and heading off unerringly towards the distant horizon. It was a damned sight easier to follow its route from up here than it would be to walk on, that was for certain. Like the road I’d followed into the mountains, despite the fact that the black sand hadn’t buried it completely, it would have been hard to tell where the road ended and the bordering sand began, other than the feel beneath your hooves. I suspected some form of magic was at play here, but if there was it certainly hadn’t set my horn to itching and I doubted there was a small army of thestrals armed with brooms keeping the highway clear. Or was there? Maybe there was! Still, I marvelled at how remarkably straight the road was, barely deviating from its course except to avoid what passed as hills here, and there were few enough of those at it was. In the distance I could see smoke rising from a settlement. Further on I could see what was most likely the home of the Beyond tribe, or the amalgamation of tribes which it now appeared to be under the dubious auspices of Lord Maul. Just how much that puffed up rat had invested in the schemes of Maroc’s murderous son, Vela, I didn’t know, although I secretly suspected he had little to no idea about what that little swine’s larger plans were. The wendigo were more than capable of recovering an egg without my help in case, but that hadn’t been the point had it? Vela had wanted to see me for some reason. He had deliberately involved himself in the collection of the egg so he could observe me up close. But why? Why risk his life and that of his own people to have a nose at some half breed unicorn that he himself referred to as a ‘mongrel’? None of it made sense! Or… or at least not right now. I was missing something. Something important.

My nose twitched. I could smell something. Smoke? No… no, it was something else. Something tangy, salty, and rich in iron… Blood. The faint scent was carried on the breeze, tantalising my wendigo senses and driving my primal urge to hunt. I shook my head, pushing the hunger back into the deeper recesses of my being. There would be time for that later. No, I had to focus all my senses on the task at hoof. I snuffed in the air, tasting every particle, every single mote. Yes. Yes! It was definitely blood, and it was fresh too. A thestral hunting party perhaps? Maybe, but this didn’t have that indefinably animalistic hint to it that wild animals had. To me they had a more rounded scent to them, whereas sentient creatures were sharper somehow, as though their blood was keener, faster, and alert to danger from all around them. This though... this smelt familiar. It reminded me of Lance and the smoke in the forest, the small clearing not unlike the one not far from where I was. It even had the domed structure before it. It was similar, but not the same. This one smelled wrong, and the scent of blood was getting stronger by the second along with the another scent, the scent of burnt wood and… I sniffed. There was no way I could mistake this one. I’d been plastered in it for long enough for it to still taint my fur even now. It was medicine, tea, herbs, and… Oh gods, no.

My hooves slammed into the ground in a shower of sand. I was damned lucky not to break a leg with such a poorly executed landing, but I didn’t care. All I wanted to do was find Shade and Briar, and… and then what? What the hell could I do?! Sights I never believed I would see in the thestral afterlife assailed my eyes from ever quarter - Impossible visions of horror that I simply couldn’t comprehend. Bodies… there were bodies everywhere! This wasn’t the peaceful home of a peculiar old wise mare who lived a quiet in the forest, it was a battlefield. Corpses of thestrals lay scattered along the path and between the trees like chaff from a thresher, their broken and bloodied bodies still warm and steaming in the cool air. Weapons, like their owners, had been drawn only to be dropped moments later in a frenzy of violence that reminded me of the brutality of the fighting with the changelings. Here however, these thestrals had been on the losing side. I counted at least twenty of them as I ran for the door to the hut.

“Briar!” I pulled up short by the entrance. Whoever had done this could well be still inside. “Briar! Are you in there? Shade!”

Silence.

I tried to steady my heart and rein in my urgent desire to burst into the hut, but my recently released wendigo self was having none of it. Memories of what had happened to Meadow surged back in a tsunami of uncontrolled emotional energy that was utterly overwhelming. From the very first time I had become a wendigo I’d found it hard to control the spirit within me. It was like a wild animal, untamed, and permanently hungering. However as time passed and my understanding of it grew, I had eventually been able to gain dominance over my more ‘impulsive’ desires. It had been a long, hard journey to that point. Unfortunately time had not been especially forgiving, and now my fear for Shade and Briar burst forth like a signal fire, dragging my conscious self along for the ride, following that raging white river of magic.

“Briar! Shade! Where are you? Answer me!”

Sparkling white mist snorted out from my nostrils, my blue eyes trying to reason out what I was seeing. The inside of the hut, the hut where Briar had tended my wounds, where we had sat and eaten together as friends... was a charnel house. There were bodies everywhere I looked. Lots more. Some were piled up inside the doorway, their blood staining the floor and mingling with the reek of burnt wood, herbs, and the all pervasive stench of entrails and death. The fighting had been up close and vicious in here. Axes hadn’t proved to be the best choice of weapon in such close quarters, evidenced by the damage to the broken and half collapsed cupboards and shelves. Instead, crossbows had come into play, along with the thestrals own natural weapons of teeth, lightning, and fire. Black scorch marks lined the walls where the unleashed magic of these strange creatures had ripped through the plaster, rock and wood - a deadly storm that must have been truly terrifying to behold, let alone be amidst this nightmare when it broke. Frantically I pulled at the bodies, searching for what I prayed I wouldn’t find. This wasn’t right, Briar was just some dotty old seer who lived in the forest, not a warrior who could kill this many! Okay, so I didn’t know her that well perhaps, but even so she was just one mare against… what, thirty warriors? It was madness, absolute madness. My heart was hammering in my chest like a steam engine’s piston, fog spilling from my hooves and spreading out around the corpses and interior of the hut. It was a defensive as well as offensive magic that had been part and parcel of being what I had become. Now it, like my emotional state, was taking control. Rationality collapsed beneath its onslaught.

“Briar!” My head flicked from side to side, searching. “Shade! Damn it all, SHADE!” I clawed at the bodies, moving them aside, dragging them off one another to look at the bodies beneath, to the… to the small leg protruding from under the bed...

“SHADE!” I roughly pushed the dead warrior aside to reach under the splintered and broken remains of the rough bed where I had so recently lain. Now it was like the rest of the hut – a broken memory. “Come on, love,” I whispered. “Come on, out you come, it’s all right now. It’s...” My wide eyes stared down at the tiny thing in my hooves. “Shade...”

Oh goddess. I closed my eyes, hoping against hope that when I opened them again that somehow this, all of this, would be gone, that I was mistaken.

I wasn’t.

I couldn’t look at this. I couldn’t look upon what they had done. Not to her… Luna help me, I tried to breathe, to take a simple breath, but a jolt of pain the likes of which I never thought I’d ever experience again, coursed through my chest and took me to the ground with a racking sob. It was happening again. History was repeating itself, and just like then I was helpless to stop it. Just as I always had been. My tears fell as frozen rain onto the blackened ruin of a floor as I held her to my chest, her tiny black body torn and slick with blood. Crimson dripped from her cold muzzle, her tongue lolling out from between her ludicrously small, now broken teeth. She wasn’t my daughter. I knew that. But what did it matter? What in this stinking, fowl cesspit of existence did it damned well matter? Shade had been born of pain and horror, her life marked for death from the very moment she had been born. And I had brought her here, here to the this dark world of eternal night and suffering. And for what? What the hell was it for? Death? Yes! Yes it was, wasn’t it! I had brought her here because I had been too much of a coward to care for her myself, and now… now she was gone. There would be no afterlife for this little one. This was the end for her. But what about reincarnation? Could the gifts even be reincarnated? Could she simply appear here in the afterlife when she was already here? I didn’t know. I didn’t know! Gods, what was I going to do? WHAT?! I lifted her up and pulled the blanket from the bed, wrapping it round her tiny, fragile body. They hadn’t needed to do this to her. They hadn’t had to break her the way they had. She was so small, so gentle... Why had they done this? Countless emotions raged through my soul, screaming in my ears and blackening everything that was good and pure within me. If there had been anything there to begin with.

Shaking with the horror of it all I rocked back and forth on my haunches, cradling the once gentle life that had been so brutally snuffed out like a candle in a hurricane. Around me the stink of death was all pervasive, mixing with the reek of burnt wood, the pungency of Briar’s herbs, and the indescribably strong stench of spilled intestines. It was strong enough to turn even the strongest stomach. I closed my eyes and gritted my teeth. I had to get her out of there. Even though she was gone, even as her body slowly became as cold as ice, I couldn’t leave her there. Not in that house of suffering and death. I carefully lifted Shade in my magic, placing her on my back as gently as I could. As I turned to leave my eyes drifted over the scene, past the wreckage of a loving home, past the memories so carefully preserved and cared for, to something that pulled at my heart more than such a simple thing ever should - my panniers. These simple storage packs, embroidered with my name, torn apart and then repaired, hung from a hook on the wall as though nothing untoward had ever happened. There was no bloodbath of desperate slaughter and cruelty at all. No, they had merely been repaired and hung up waiting for me to come back and collect them, perhaps after enjoying a cup of tea with Briar before I headed off back home to my family. There would probably be promises of coming to visit again and bringing Meadow and Sparrow with me. We could share recipes, treats fresh from the oven, and tell each other stories of strange and foreign lands. But that wouldn’t happen now. Not now. I was the bringer of death. I had brought it to everypony I had ever cared about.

I always had.

My heart was as bitterly cold as the wastes of the frozen north, dulling my emotions to a simmering cauldron of emptiness that left me feeling numb inside. When I saw her, when I recognised the face with the once rich burning eyes of flame and wisdom, I felt… nothing. She was leaning up against the wall, half buried in the bodies of her foe, a dagger slick with blood beside her. I didn’t have to see any more to know what had happened.

“I’m sorry...”

Words. They meant nothing now. I had hardly known Briar and Shade, and now I would have to bury them both. Their killers I would bring inside and burn with magic and-

A snap from outside. A branch, or twig perhaps. Maybe a predator attracted by the bounty of death or a scavenger seeking a free meal at death’s table. Tenderly I lowered Shade onto my packs and tucked the blanket around her so she could sleep peacefully. I didn’t want to disturb her, nor should she witness any more suffering this day. I picked my way across the bodies to the door, my eyes keen for any movement, my ears sharp for any sound. There was something out there, out in the light of the crystal forest. I should have known of course; murderers have a tendency to return to the scene of their crime, and it should have been obvious that some of the butchers would have survived, perhaps even bringing more of their kin with them to ensure the job had been completed properly. I took a breath and let it out slowly, feeling my muscles burning for release, my wings clamped to my sides in readiness as my teeth itched for what was to come.

There were five of them by my reckoning. They were standing amidst the bodies, staring down at them and talking in that clicking, hissing language of theirs. They hadn’t noticed me yet, but they would. I could wait. But then... I saw him. I saw the architect of this… this travesty, this rape of life, love, and all the goodness that had brought a spark of light into this dark, dark world. My lips quivered and peeled back, exposing my sharp teeth. Translucent white fluid seeped between the gaps and fell to the ground like rain amidst the pool of swirling mist.

“Maul...”

The large stallion looked up at me. I’ll say one thing for him, he gave nothing away. His warriors balked at the white and blue monster, but Maul stood as still as a statue, his burning eyes watching my every move with utter intensity.

“Lord Fairlight, I presume,” he said carefully.

How very observant of him. Vela couldn’t have informed him this quickly unless he had sent a message by magic. Even then, to cover the distance between his hall and Briar’s home in so short a time would have been impossible. Leaving only one possibility: he had been on his way here already. He and his filth had been a part of this orchestra of murder, and he had come to see their handiwork for himself. It had cost him warriors of course, but to what end? To murder a foal and an old mare? Goddess in her heaven, how could he, how could anypony, do something so utterly, unimaginably evil? Perhaps this was why I was who I was this day. I was the instrument of vengeance, brought here to this place, to this insignificant home in the land nopony cared about, to bury my friend, my foal… and to exact revenge upon their killers. I felt a shiver run down my spine.

“Before you die, Maul,” I whispered into the fog, “tell me… Why? Why did you do this? What had this mare and child ever done to you?”

The stallion stood tall and straight, his eyes never leaving me, “They have done nothing to me, Lord of the Four Winds. This,” he held out a hoof, taking in the fallen warriors before him, “was not my doing.”

Anger burst through my head as fiercely as an arc light, my neigh echoing around the forest filled with all the pain of loss and grief I had felt since finding the pitifully shattered remains of innocence.

“LIAR!”

Hatred pulsed through my veins in a seething torrent, blanking out all other thought. How could he deny this? How dare he?! How could he have the sheer audacity to stand there in dumb ignorance and pretend he knew nothing about this? He was the lord of these lands, and you didn’t just send a war party out to kill somepony without orders from on high. And if there was one thing I knew about thestrals, it was that they were obedient. Oh yes, they were obedient alright. This bastard may not have blood on his hooves, but they were as red with the slick crimson flow of murder as any common killer I had ever encountered. And there was only one way to be sure they didn’t kill again. Maul’s eyes moved at the sound of my blade snapping into place. He was saying something now, but it didn’t matter any more. Nothing he said would ever bring them back, and I didn’t care to hear any more lies or excuses from this disgusting creature. The time talking was over now. Now… Now it was time to sing Briar and Shade to the shining lands in my own way. With the song of blade, blood, and war.

Maul’s blade came up to meet mine in a flash. It was quite impressive really. But not impressive enough. I let my blade slide away from his, dancing away to block a blow from one of his warriors and land one of my own to his throat with the haft. The warrior fell in a coughing, struggling fit of phlegm and gasps whilst the wendigo whirled away, bringing the fog of the mountains to their dark world.

“Keep out of the mist!” Maul swung his axe, catching nothing but the air where I had been. “Keep moving!”

Their attempts at resisting the inevitable was laughable, but I had to acknowledge the thestral’s steadfastness in battle. Maul kept out of my range, using the trees to block my sight and hinder direct attacks. Still, it was only a matter of time before he fell. Before they all fell. I sent out a bolt of magic, splintering branches and burning a hole through one of the trunks that was big enough for a foal to climb through. Foal… Oh goddess… Shade. They had taken her life, broken her, smashed her bones into tinder...

“Lord Fairlight, for the goddess’s sake, I am not your enemy!”

The scythe swung, slipping between the branches as though they were as substantial as the air itself. Maul ducked, but wasn’t quite quick enough this time. His blade caught the worst of it, shattering like glass into a thousand pieces, the impact sending him to the black sand that would be his bed for eternity. I didn’t gloat, nor did I rejoice in his impending death. It was simply time to finish the work, to bring an end to this rabid beast’s existence. After which it would be a trifling task to cleanse his four warriors from the Darklands. Then, I would drink their essence, and use that strength to bury my loved ones once again. Once again…

“Fairlight!”

“Sorry I couldn’t bring you your breakfast, Maul,” I hissed. Mist dripped from my muzzle as my blade rose. “Looks like we’re all out of eggs.”

The blade fell.

Abruptly steel rang against crystal, the glint of my blade reflected in the burning eyes of the prostrate stallion. Only inches stood between his last breath and my sending him to the shining lands… and yet he still lived. I don’t know which of us was more surprised. I stared at the quivering blade as Maul swallowed, his own broken weapon lying in pieces nearby. He was... unarmed? Momentarily caught off guard I pulled my scythe away to face this new threat. Somepony had dared, dared to stand between me and my enemy, and-

“Fairlight, please… Please stop this!” The black mare withdrew her axe and put herself in between her fallen lord and myself. “This was my fault! Can’t you see that? This was all my fault...” A single tear, a solitary burning flame of sorrow, slid down the sleek young mare’s cheek, dropping to the sand in silence.

A mare’s tears. My mind, so full of rage and killing intent, paused. “Glimmer.” I took a step back, readying my weapon and gave Maul a look that threatened bloody retribution should he dare to move even a single inch. In fact, part of me wished he would. I shook my mane and nickered my irritation. “Speak quickly, Glimmer. I am not in the mood for trickery.”

The mare shuddered visibly, “I...” She closed her eyes and swallowed. “I tried to tell you. I wanted to, but… but Vela...”

“Vela?” My ears pricked up at the mere mention of that name. She had my full attention now, and she backed away as I loomed over her. “Speak girl!”

“He… He made me…” Glimmer stammered.

“Yes?” I pressed.

“He made me poison you.” Glimmer hung her head, her eyes closed tight shut. I’d never heard her sound anything other than confident and alert before. This uncharacteristic change in her was as alien as the land around us.

I didn’t know what to say. All I could manage was, “You poisoned me?” I glanced at Maul and back to Glimmer. I didn’t feel any different from normal. In fact, physically I felt better than I had since I’d first arrived in the herd. In that time Glimmer had been to visit several times and she’d had amble opportunity to ‘poison’ me. But when? In the kitchen perhaps? Maybe in… ah… of course. “It was when you bit me, wasn’t it.” Glimmer nodded. “Why Glimmer?” I asked quietly. “I thought you were my friend. Meadow, Sparrow and I love you like one of our own family. Why would you do this to me?”

“Because he threatened to kill my family!” Glimmer threw her head back and took a loud intake of breath. “I betrayed you and your family to save my own!”

“And this?” I asked motioning towards the bodies. “Was this your work too, Glimmer? Did you have a hoof in the murder of Shade and Briar?”

“NO!” Glimmer stared at me in horror. “I had nothing to do with this!”

“And yet you said it was your fault?” I frowned in consternation, “Come on, Glimmer, get your story straight will you?”

Glimmer sputtered, the strain on her face saying far more than her words could express.

“Lord Fairlight, if I may?” Maul’s voice was as infuriatingly calm and reasonable as it had been when I’d first met him. I took a breath and stared down at him as he spoke, but kept a wary eye on his warriors who were watching me from a respectful distance. I have to say too that Maul’s voice had a nearly hypnotising effect. It was like the sudden calm when the eye of the storm passes overhead, and it drew the red haze of anger me from as easily as wind from a ship’s sails. I nodded my ascent to him to continue. “Vela has fooled us all it seems,” the lord explained. He sat up on his haunches and brushed the sand from his coat. No armour I noticed. Either he’d been satisfied that the killing had been concluded or he had more faith in his entourage than I would have given them. “You have met Herath, yes?” he asked. I nodded as he continued, “A fine adviser to my court, and one whom I had entrusted with many of my more ‘delicate’ matters. He came to me not long after the defeat of our army in the mortal realm and gave me no reason to believe he was anything but what he appeared to be: honest, loyal, and ready to follow my instructions without hesitation. I always believed him to be the very soul of discretion, if not necessarily wisdom. He was my confidant. My ally. He was, I believed, to be the nearest I would ever have to that which equestrians value so highly - a friend.” Maul hung his head, a bitter smile ghosting across his face. “He took me in completely.” The lord rolled his shoulders, “May I sit up? I may look as young as I did when I was in my prime, but some aches never quite leave you. Even in death.”

I held out a hoof cautiously, but true to his word all Maul did was sit up and adjust his cloak.

“Herath was one of Vela’s agents,” he explained, “no doubt reporting every little thing I said and did to his master in the mountains.” Maul shrugged as he grinned, “I trusted him, Lord Fairlight. Completely.” He looked up at me from lidded eyes, the acknowledgement of his failure clearly paining him to admit. “Glimmer tried to warn me of course, but her dedication to her family prevented her from being completely open about her involvement with the wendigo, and to my shame… I never really listened. Until now. Still, she managed to give me enough information to warn me of Herath’s treachery and his master Vela’s scheming. Sadly,” Maul turned to face the still smouldering door of the hut, “I was too late.”

“And these warriors?” I raised an eyebrow. “Are you telling me you didn’t know about a war party setting out to the forest?”

Maul shook his head. “Our people are free to come and go as they please, Lord Fairlight. They are not beholden to me in all things, but… yes, I should have been informed. As it transpired, I was not.” The thestral glanced at Glimmer as he spoke, “Treachery is not unknown to thestrals, and Vela’s agents have spread his honeyed poison throughout my realm as surely as a tainted well spring. You see, he promised something no true warrior could resist.”

“What was that?” I asked.

I wasn’t surprised by his answer. “War,” Maul smiled toothily. “We are a people born to conflict, Lord Fairlight, and the Darklands do not hold the same, shall we say ‘excitement’ as the Withers.” He looked towards the hut and closed his eyes. “But this… this is not the path of a warrior.” He looked at me and gazed at my scythe. “You met them in battle?”

I shook my head, “They were all dead when I got here. All of them.”

“Ah, I see. So this was Briar’s work...” Maul shook his head, his voice raised as though addressing a larger audience than our small band. “She was a fearsome warrior in life. Proud, true, and with a strong sense of duty and honour far beyond that of many of her peers. That mare was a true sight to behold when the axes swung and arrows flew, Lord Fairlight. She had been born to a farming family in the Beyond and fought her way into the ranks of the warriors through her own will and determination, battling the ignorance and prejudice of my more ‘learned’ brothers.” Maul shrugged, smiling that thin smile of his. “Briar wanted to do nothing more than retire in peace and learn the ancient arts of the healer, offering the services of the seer, and the mystics of old. It was here that she found her comfort and her true calling. She shall be missed. By all of us.”

“Vela had her murdered.” I turned away to look at the destruction of my friend’s home. “He murdered her, Maul, and he murdered Shade.”

“Shade?” Maul asked quizzically. “Who…?” He glanced at Glimmer for help who gave him a look that spoke volumes. “Ah, the gift child.” He looked up at me and took a breath, “I’m sorry. I had hoped to have come here with a larger force, but my guard and I took wing as soon as we found out of Herath’s treachery.”

“Where is he?” I rumbled. “Where, Maul?”

The thestral shook his head, “Gone back to his master I suspect. Although where that may be precisely, none whom I have asked can say. We have warriors out looking for him, but I doubt we’ll find anything useful. Wendigo have a talent for… disappearing.”

I closed my eyes and felt my hooves twitch as my tail swished angrily, “If I had been here, if I hadn’t been in those damned mountains trying to find your goddess damned egg, Maul, I would have been able to do something. I could have stopped this!”

There was a long pause. “I know.” Maul stared past me into the trees, his eyes unfocussed, “Herath played me like a lute from the very beginning. The egg was his idea to… test you.” He sighed, “I went along with it like the fool I am, not even questioning the sense of it.”

“This still explains nothing as to why Vela would commit murder. And why Briar and Shade?” I stomped a hoof in exasperation. “Glimmer? You know something more, don’t you?”

Glimmer nodded silently. I could sense how much this was wounding her to talk about it, but there was more to this than met the eye. There was a deeper sadness in those burning red eyes that resonated with a part of me that still saw her as the mare who had saved my life long ago in the Withers. Poison or no, she had been a friend to my family. Or was that, like Herath had been with Maul, no more than a lie for the betterment of Vela’s scheme? Whatever that was.

“Vela...” Glimmer swallowed. The mare’s voice broke, but she ploughed on regardless. “He wanted you to regain your wendigo power. The poison he gave me to use on you wasn’t meant to harm you, it was meant to unlock your magic, your wendigo spirit. He believed it had failed, and decided to try shocking you so much you would break the locking spell yourself.”

“Locking spell?” Of course, the magic used to block our people from accessing the power of the spirit when they enter this herd. But why? Why would he want me to regain my powers? And if he wanted to shock me, then… Oh, Luna! “Meadow!”

“Meadow?” Glimmer’s face was a mask of confusion.

“My WIFE!” I roared suddenly. Glimmer reeled back in surprise as I surged forward, hooking a hoof around her baldric and yanked her towards me until we were nose to nose. “What have you done to my wife?!”

“N… Nothing!” Glimmer stammered, “I would never do anything to harm her, or Sparrow!”

“But you did mind trying to with me, did you?” I snarled, “And Vela wouldn’t give a damn about your feelings for any of your friends, would he?”

Glimmer shook her head, “Meadow is protected by the magic of the First Mage of the equestrian royal family. Any attempt to harm her would bring down the wrath of the gods themselves upon Vela and his people.” She frowned at me, “I thought you knew this?”

“No!” I released her abruptly and turned away in a fog of anger and confusion. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “I knew nothing of this!” I hissed, “Star Swirl is her friend, yes, but the protection of the gods? That’s insane! This… this all madness!”

“Madness or not, it is the truth,” Maul cut in heavily. “Glimmer told me the full story on the way here. The gods have blessed your family, Lord Fairlight.”

“You call this blessed?!” I span round in a tempest of ice and churned sand, my blazing blue eyes reflecting brightly off my blade. “This is no blessing, Maul, this is a curse! Innocents lie dead because of the crazed ambitions of a twisted lunatic. Where were the gods when they butchered Shade and Briar? Goddess forgive us all if you think this is a blessing!”

Maul nodded slowly, “I understand your pain, Lord Fairlight, but-”

“Do you?” I snapped. “You know nothing about me, Maul. Nothing!”

The thestral held up a hoof, “That may be true, but whatever else you may think of him, Vela is no Lunatic. He has been planning this for more than a thousand years, and only now are we beginning to see the seeds of his machinations grow and take form.”

I stopped in my tracks, the words of Maroc and Star Swirl breaking through the anger and hate that gripped my heart right then. Rage muddled my mind, the fury of the wendigo so keen and deliciously alluring as it was, was out of place here. I needed to think, to stop acting on pure emotion and use my mind. I had been an officer in the watch, a pony who worked on solving some of the more complicated cases to cross the desks of the Manehattan watch. I needed that old Fairlight now, and as much as it pained me, I had to do this. Closing my eyes I let go, releasing my iron grip on the magic within myself. Gods, it was hard. After all this time, to be able to fly once more and to feel that magnificent sensation of power and raw magical energy surging through me, was utterly intoxicating. And to release it? To let it go when I had only just got it back? What if I couldn’t find it again? What if I remained a unicorn forever because I…. because…

It took all my will and strength, but finally I found that tiny calm place in the storm. And gently, softly, I let it go.

Maul and Glimmer both stared at me. “Now there is a sight I will never get used to,” the thestral lord breathed. “Remarkable.”

I shook my mane and rolled the stiffness from my shoulders. I’d forgotten how odd it felt to have wings burst from your back and then go back again. It bloody well hurt too! Although, not that much truth be told. Ah, but the benefits! Suddenly a wave of panic hit me. Was the magic gone? Had I lost the wendigo power so soon after finding it again? Oh gods! What… What if… I caught myself mentally and took a deep breath. Calm, Fairlight, find the calm within you… It was easier said that done. I don’t know how many times I’d reached down inside myself and found nothing but emptiness since coming to the herd. Lately I’d been able to sense something else, but it had been so distant, it was like trying to catch a rainbow. Now the reassuring tingle of magic sat there as alive and well as it ever had. A metaphorical kitten curled up in my lap that could change into a charging lion when roused. It was comforting certainly, but it was the feeling of completeness, of being whole once more that truly warmed my heart and soothed my weary mind. Part of me wanted to sing with joy whilst the other part wanted to cry and scream in anger and sadness over the loss of Briar and Shade. But the part I really needed was the cold, hard mind of Fairlight the watch stallion. The stallion who could focus on facts and logic, using his mind rather a blade. And he was waiting. He always had been.

“Tell me about the egg,” I asked the two thestrals before me. “What is the significance of it, and why would Vela want such a thing?”

Glimmer glanced at Maul and then back to me. It was apparent from the thestral lord’s expression that he didn’t know, but she did alright. “The yolk has the power to cancel out magic,” Glimmer began. “I overheard Vela talking to one of his stallions, and he said that the yolk could break the lock the gods placed on his people, freeing their spirits.”

“Dear gods...” I felt a shudder run through me at the mere thought of that mad stallion creating an army of wendigo in the afterlife. I didn’t doubt for a moment what this would mean for those who had sided with Maroc either. Those that didn’t submit would be either subjugated or killed. The allure of regaining their power would do the rest. As for the thestral race itself, the chance for battle, true battle, would be like the proverbial carrot dangling before their muzzles. And the icing on Vela’s plan. With the help of Herath he’d already shown that he was able to bring them in on his deranged plans, and I wouldn’t put it past him using them again given half a chance, Maul or no Maul. But the gods… They wouldn’t allow such a thing to pass, surely? It was they who had locked the thestrals away in their own world and had prevented the wendigo from using their powers in the afterlife. Would they simply sit idly by and watch their worlds, everything they had wrought, burn in the fires of Vela’s ambition? I doubted it, but then what did they care about the Darklands? The enigmatically named ‘all father’ may have a passing interest in the affairs of his creations, if Briar’s tale was true of course, but the royal couples real interest was the eternal herd and that was separated by a portal. Take that out, and Vela had as much chance of invading the herd as biting the moon. But perhaps I was reading too much into it. Maybe. What was really niggling me was why Vela had been so keen to see me transform into a wendigo in the first place. Had he used me as a test subject for his wider plans? It seemed plausible. He certainly didn’t give a damn about me, of that I knew for certain. I’d heard enough anyway; there was something that needed to be done, and standing here talking wasn’t going to put it right.

“Fairlight?” Glimmer gazed after me in consternation, “Where are you going?”

I didn’t look back. “To find a shovel,” I replied over my shoulder. “I have a child to bury.”

********************

My goodbyes were as hollow and meaningless as an empty well. They couldn’t hear me now. The mare I had met and who had shown me nothing but the light of kindness in this alien world of darkness, was gone. The tiny foal who had brought a spark of joy into my confused heart and a smile to my lips; she too was no more. I buried Shade beneath one of the silver trees on the hill behind her home and beside Briar’s ashes. I think she would have liked it there. The view was stunning. Against thestral tradition I hadn’t burned the little ones body, but instead lay her to rest in a simple coffin I constructed from what scrap wood I’d been able to salvage from the ruins of Briar’s home. The other thestrals had busied themselves with the construction of a large pyre to dispose of the slain warriors who had come here with little more than cold murder in their hearts. And yet despite the evil of their acts, Glimmer, Maul, and his personal guard, still sang them to the shining lands where they would rest for all eternity. Unless they were reborn once more. For myself, I felt nothing but contempt for them. If I’d had my way I would have left every last one of them for the carrion to pick over. At least then their lives would have come to a useful end. Here though, two lives had been brought to an untimely end in blood and suffering that neither of them should ever have experienced. Briar had been a warrior and no stranger to fighting when she was younger, but Shade… Shade was just a child, regardless of how she had come into being. Maybe her soul would go back to the herd now to be with her equestrian family. After all she was originally the soul of an equestrian mare. Truthfully though I just didn’t know, and I doubted I’d find out by the simple expedient of trooping into the palace to ask Ülf and his good lady. Somehow I had the feeling I’d have more luck convincing a vampire to eat garlic bread.

Sitting here before the freshly dug earth I let my mind wander wherever it pleased. I’d never buried a child before. I prayed I never would again. There were words I could say, but who was listening? The gods? Ha! Yeah… They didn’t give a damn about Shade or any of us. Celestia, Luna, Fate, Ulf - the names were different, but the result was the same. Nothing. Celestia’s attitude stank to high heaven, her sister was a pathetic echo of what she was and could have been, and their parents? Buck them. Buck them all bloody, the stinking rats. Damn it all, even vermin had some familial sense of responsibility. But not them. Not any of them. So much for us being their ‘children’. I let the bitterness wash through me, drowning my heart and soul in the cold glaze of unfathomable sorrow. It would pass. It always did in the end. The memories faded, the pain dulled, but it always left a little something behind to remind you of that hole in your life that could never be filled.

Hooves crunched up the path into the clearing. I knew who it was even without the magic of the wendigo. Carefully, I sprinkled the last of the sand over Shade’s grave, a simply piece of wood the only marker to show for such a young and brief life.

“Fairlight, are you alright?”

“Yeah.” I leaned back on my haunches as Glimmer sat down beside me.

“I’m sorry about Shade.” Glimmer stared at the grave, her face an unreadable mask of hidden emotion, “I didn’t realise how much she meant to you.”

I smiled mirthlessly, “Neither did I. Briar opened my eyes to things that I had right in front of me all along, and then...” I snorted ironically, changing tack. I didn’t want to talk about it. I didn’t want to think about it either. “Anyway, it’s too late now, isn’t it?” I said getting to my hooves. “I’ve said my goodbyes, now I’m off home.”

“You’re off home?” Glimmer looked up at me in amazement, “What? You can’t! We need you here to-”

“To do what?” I snapped. “Stop Vela? Wreak some form of wendigo vengeance upon him?” I shook my head, “That won’t bring Shade or Briar back, no matter how much blood is spilled. I’m sorry Glimmer, the answer’s no.”

The black mare rose up and faced me like a fury from the deep, “You would let Vela murder your friends unchallenged? You will not avenge them?” Glimmer’s eyes blazed with all the intensity of hell’s fires. “You… you coward! I thought I knew you, Fairlight Loam. I thought you were a stallion who believed in honour and justice. What in the name of the goddess has happened to you? When did you become so utterly spineless?”

“When my family became a target,” I replied levelly. I picked up my saddle packs and panniers, snugging them into place over my barding. “My home was already targeted by an assassin, my friends butchered like animals, and in case you had forgotten, my wife and child have been murdered once already and I’ll be damned if I let it happen again.” I turned to leave, “Vela can do what he wants. You have a horde of battle hungry warriors for Luna’s sake. Use them!”

I began to walk away as Glimmer spoke, her words cutting deep into my heart sharper than any knife. “Do you know what happened to my family, Lord of the Four Winds?” The mare’s voice rose to a high pitch shriek, “Do you?! I’ll tell you, shall I?”

“Glimmer, don’t...” Maul strode up to his charge, holding her back.

“I’ll tell you!” Glimmer’s voice echoed through the forest, “They’re dead! They’re all dead! They gave sacrificed themselves so I could tell Lord Maul the truth of Herath’s treachery and Vela’s plotting. Don’t you see?” she screamed. “They gave their lives for you! For all of us!”

“Goodbye, Glimmer.” I looked over my shoulder at the furious mare. “Maul, keep her safe.”

Maul nodded silently, but Glimmer pushed forward in a blind fury, barely held back by the powerful stallion. “Damn you, Fairlight, get back here! GET BACK HERE, YOU DAMNED COWARD!”

“Let him go, Glimmer,” Maul reason calmly. “He has his own battle to fight now. Let him go.”

“No! Damn you, Maul, and damn you, Fairlight!” Glimmer’s words followed me out of the forest and onto the road, sending up a flight of spectrals. “I wish I’d never saved your life you cowardly bastard! DO YOU HEAR ME? IF I EVER SEE YOU AGAIN I’LL KILL YOU MYSELF! I’LL KILL YOU, YOU CELESTIAN RAT! FAIRLIGHT! FAIRLIIIGHHT!”

I walked away into the gathering night, watching the stars beginning to come out one by one. Dozens, hundreds, thousands, millions, some bright as gemstones and others no more than a faint glow in the far emptiness of space. All of them appeared as pinpricks of silver light in the black shroud of the universe. I walked on for hours, following the road until I came to a stream I must have passed when I was carried to Briar’s home after being half killed by that damned manticore. Thirst drove me as much as weariness, the strain of the day finally taking its toll on my tortured body. Leaning down to take a draught, I caught my reflection in the water, my blue eyes as blue as… blue? After the initial shock I looked back quickly at my cutie mark and let out an involuntary sigh. The magnifying glass I’d had from childhood had gone once again, only to be replaced by the single white flash of lightning that marked my link to the Wither World. “Luna...” I rolled my eyes and shrugged it off. What the hell did it matter now anyway? Brown eyes, blue eyes, lightning flashes and magnifying glasses. I was who I was, and if ponies couldn’t accept me for who I was, then to hell with them. What my attention was focussed on more than anything was the reflection of the star light in the glassy surface of the stream “The river of stars...” I whispered to myself. “The river Ülf’s wife sailed to meet him.” I sank to my haunches and uttered a bitter chuckle under my breath, “What a load of bollocks.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” a voice said from behind me. “I thought it was quite romantic really.”

Now ghosts were talking to me. Gods, what a day! Maybe it was the effects of Glimmer’s poison finally kicking in. I pulled my pannier round and opened it, fishing out one of the wrapped packages of travel food Briar had made for my journey. The last thing she ever did for me in this world. “Hungry, ghost?” I enquired. “There’s enough for the two of us.”

“I’d recommend the ones wrapped in the green leaves,” the ghost offered. “I think you will find them particularly good.”

“Made them yourself, did you?” I joked.

“As a matter of fact, I did.”

I didn’t look round. Madness was taking me at long last. “I always wondered how long it would be before I started to hear voices,” I said carefully unwrapping the leaf wrapped parcel. “Mind you, walking alone in an alien world could turn anyone’s mind.”

“You’re never alone with schizophrenia.”

“At least you have a sense of humour.” I took a bite of the meaty pastry, savouring the delicate spices and moistness of the filling.

“Good?” the ghost asked.

“Delicious,” I replied honestly. “You have a light touch.”

“Why, thank you,” she replied. “I take pride in my baking and cooking skills. It took a long time to learn, but I think these old hooves can compete with the best of them. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“I would, definitely,” I agreed. As I munched it down I waved at the pannier. “Don’t stand on ceremony my friend. Please, help yourself.”

“Don’t mind if I do.”

Ah, madness! The unhinged mind of a lonely and long taxed stallion in a world of dead thestrals at the arse end of the universe. Could be worse I suppose; at least I wasn’t alone. Being completely bonkers was quite liberating. Refreshing even.

“Mmm! They are good,” the ghost replied. “Even if I say so myself.”

A grey hoof slipped past the edge of my vision and placed a wicker wrapped bottle beside me. “Wine?”

“Ah, just the ticket.” I poured some out into my travel cup and took a sip. “Very good,” I noted. “Fruity little number with rich undertones of… apricot?”

“Persimmon actually,” the ghost replied. “I’m personally very fond of them.”

I chuckled, “I knew a pony who was very fond of persimmons once. She was as mad a box of frogs, but a wonderful mare at heart. Saved my bacon, I can tell you.”

“Really?”

“Oh, gods yes.” I took another sip of wine, “And absolutely mad about skulls and all that ‘arcane weirdness’ you get into when you spend too much time on your own.”

“And cats too, I expect?”

“Cats?” I barked out a laugh. “Bloody house was wall to wall with them! You know,” I said taking another sip of the wine, “I think it’s something that happens to mares when they get old; they break out in spontaneous cats. Dozens of the buggers.”

“You don’t like cats?”

I shook my head, grinning foolishly, “I love cats. But the amount of them the old girl had in her home would have bankrupted me with the cost of all that cat food.”

“Maybe the locals helped her, do you think?”

I shrugged, “Meh, probably. Who knows?”

“What happened to her?”

“Still living in a village in the middle of nowhere I suppose,” I suggested. “Who knows?”

“What was her name?”

“Pewter,” I replied, “My dearest aunt.” I laughed as I took a bite of the pastry, nearly choking on it. But I didn’t care. “She was my mum’s sister.”

“Do you still keep in touch?”

“Bit hard when you’re dead,” I replied.

“I meant your mother.”

“Oh.” The conversation was taking a decided turn for the worst. “No,” I said quietly. I topped off my wine and nearly downed it in one chug. “Mum and I didn’t always see eye to eye. When dad left she just kind of faded away until...”

“She died,” the ghost finished.

“She did,” I said honestly. “I… I suppose I do miss her, but…”

“But?”

I groaned, “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Wouldn’t I?” the ghost chuckled. “A mare may not always be the best mother to her children, Fairlight, but it doesn’t mean that she doesn’t love them. She may simply have not been the best at expressing her emotions.” There was a pause. “But we all have our faults. Even me.”

“Even you.” I sorted out a laugh, “The imperfect ghost!”

The ghost sighed, “You really are a dullard, aren’t you?”

“That’s me,” I agreed. “The dimwit of the family and the plaything of good old Fate. You gotta love it. I bet the gods are really laughing it up in their perfect white tower with their perfect bucking land of sunshine and arse buggering rainbows.” I slugged back the wine and huffed angrily. It was empty. “Ah… bollocks!”

“So, are you going to do it then?”

“Huh?” I frowned in confusion. “Do what?”

“Change into a wendigo,” the ghost clarified for me. “You can do it, can’t you? The first wendigo to be able to change into their spirit form since the cataclysm?”

“The ‘cataclysm’!” I mocked. “Ooh, how dramatic!” I huffed angrily, “What does it bucking well matter if I can change or not anyway? I doubt it’ll last, and the portal to the herd will probably lock it all away again as soon as I try to leave. Don’t you worry, I’ll be back to being the boring old cart horse me faster than you can shake a mule’s tail.” I shook my head and sucked the last of the dregs from the bottle. “Spirit form...” I muttered. “My arse.”

“You may want to stop swearing so much,” the ghost offered a little irritably. “It’s not good for little ones to hear.”

“What the hell are you blabbering about, ghost?” I lifted my muzzle and cast a glance back over my shoulder. “What ‘little ones’? Shade is dead, Sparrow is dead, and my son is being threatened and there’s not a damned thing I can do about it. So either sod off or stop spouting such damnable nonsense about things you know nothing about. Either is fine by me.” I slammed the bottle down into the sand. “And if you’re going, leave me another bottle of wine if you’ve got one will you? Imaginary or not, I’d like to soak myself like a fish before beddy-bose.”

“I’d forgotten how immature stallions could be,” a new voice chimed in. “Drowning themselves in alcohol and self pity. A trait not confined to celestian’s I suspect.”

“Oh, piss off!” I snapped. “Take your attitude and shove it up your arse. Bucking ‘celestian’ bollocks and all, you annoying old trout.”

“Old trout?” the ghost asked, “What-?”

“It’s a fish,” the other ghost explained. “It’s an insult.”

“You’re bloody right it is!” I shouted. “Now bugger off the two of you, or are we having a sodding ghost convention here or something? If you are then you can leave some ‘spirits’ for me, can’t you?” I began to laugh, the lunacy of the situation bringing the first smile to my face in longer than I cared to remember. “Spirits!”

“You have a singular wit,” the first ghost observed sarcastically. I don’t know who you got that from, but it wasn’t my side of the family. It was probably that loser my sister married.”

I span round in a fury, “Don’t you dare call my father a loser, you bi-”

“Ack!”

“Hello, Fairlight.” A pair of yellow eyes stared into mine. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

I nearly fell into the stream in shock. Three mares, or rather two and a foal, stood there staring at me as casually as you please whilst I stood there with a look of dumbfounded stupidity on my face and eyes as wide as dinner plates. “Pewter?” My eyes slid across the others, soaking in every detail from their hooves to their burning eyes. “Briar… Shade...” I ran a hoof over my face. “I knew I’d gone mad, but-”

“Oh, belt up you idiot.” The grey mare walked up to me and dropped down to her haunches, helping herself to a quick bite to eat. “Get a bloody fire going before we all die of hypothermia will you.”

“But you’re-?”

“Dead?” Pewter took a chunk of the pastry and popped it in her mouth. “Like you, you mean? Remarkable observation skills you have there, nephew. You ought to be in the watch.”

Shade walked up to me and smiled, her tiny little teeth showing white in the starlight, “Arick, ack! Hurrf.”

Briar smiled, “He is.”

I looked up in confusion, “Is what? She can talk now?!”

Briar clucked her tongue, “Of course she can. A little anyway.” She sat down beside Pewter and I, plopping Shade into her lap. “She called you ‘father’.”

“Father...” A sudden surge of emotion burst forth and I nearly choked, “Oh… oh, goddess.”

“Arick,” Briar explained, “is ‘father’ in our language.”

“Sounds like a lot of burping, clicking and farting to me,” Pewter mumbled. She was well into her second pastry now. Or was that her third? In any case, she was rewarded by a withering gaze from Briar. The old fart ignored it in typical fashion. “You look a little confused, nephew”, Pewter said sounding more sarcastic than was absolutely necessary. “Time for a little exposition do you think?”

“Time for a coma more like,” I groaned.

Briar picked up the reins. “Magic,” she said simply, as if that was the answer to everything in the whole bloody universe.

“A simple little spell,” Pewter chipped in. “It makes ponies think they’ve done something they haven’t, and to see what they want to see.”

“But the bodies!” I protested. “They weren’t an illusion, Auntie. I picked them up and burned them. I buried Shade with own hooves for Celestia’s sake.”

Pewter frowned and clucked her tongue at me. I’d forgotten how much she hated even the merest mention of the princess’s name. “There were real, Fairlight,” she explained. “What you buried were the bodies of the warriors who attacked Briar’s home.”

“So what killed them, then?” I asked.

“They killed themselves,” Briar added as though this sort of thing happened every day and was simply a by-product of living in the forest. “Pewter came to me looking for you not long after you’d left and warned me of the wendigo’s plan to kill us.”

“Vela’s plan,” Pewter clarified, placing a hoof on Briar’s leg, “Let’s not forget that, eh, old girl? Anyway, a good old area effect illusion spell was just the ticket as it turned out. A few incantations, a little aether manipulation, a sprinkling of thaumaturgical reallocation, and that lot went at it like a dog at broth. Chopped themselves up into little bits as happy as Larry! Still, you have to be a bit dim in the old grey matter for it to be as effective as it was, but I’ll take credit for it nonetheless. One for the journal, eh?”

“Gods, my head!” I rubbed my temple furiously, trying to get my mind around the mental gymnastics I was being subjected to by these crazy females. “Will somepony please tell me what the hell is going on?! How come you’re here, Auntie? Are you sure I’ve not lost it?”

“Oh, will you please shut up about that! Goddess give me strength...” Pewter huffed and shoved a cup of coffee into my hooves. “Get that down you and listen you big galoot.” After I’d taken a sip she continued, “Now then, it’s quite simple. I died, yes? And before you ask: yes, it was natural causes. More or less...” She cleared her throat. “Anway, when I arrived in the herd I was met by one of Maroc’s ponies and they asked me to find you to warn you of the attack. They felt that you might listen to me, what with us being family.” She shrugged, “Quite simple really.”

“Isn’t it though?” I replied sarcastically. “Goddess above!”

Pewter ignored my remark. “Maroc’s been trying to infiltrate Vela’s tribe for aeons. He managed with one fellow who we hoped would make himself known to you whilst another chap was supposed to be observing your movement along the great forest road. We haven’t heard back from him since, and Maroc began to fear the worst.”

“Foxes,” I said distantly. “I stumbled over the body of a wendigo stallion on the forest road when I was lost in the fog. It has to have been your guy. As for the other...” I sighed, “I believe his name was Clarion, or at least that was what he called himself.”

“Where is he now?” Pewter asked.

I shook my head, “Vela killed him. Stuck a dagger through his throat when he tried to save me from falling to my death.” I looked into Pewter’s eyes that looked so much like my mother’s. “He knew, Auntie,” I said quietly. “Vela knew Clarion was one of Maroc’s stallions. I’m certain of it.”

“And the egg?” Pewter asked.

I looked down at the ground, “Vela has it.”

“Shit!” My aunt glanced at Briar apologetically before turning back to me, “We have to get it back!”

“We don’t need to do anything.” I fixed Pewter with my own hard look. “I am going home. And if you have any sense at all you’ll come with me.”

Pewter groaned dramatically, “I knew you’d say that!” She glanced at Briar. “Didn’t I say that? Goddess buck me, you’re so bloody predictable!”

“And what’s the alternative then, miss smarty pants?” I asked my aunt loudly. “Stay here and hope Vela doesn’t find out Briar and Shade are still alive? Come on for Luna’s sake! Sooner or later he’ll get wind of it and then it’s a one way ticket to the shining lands. As for me, I have to get back and take care of Meadow and Sparrow before that maniac finds a way to get to them too, protective magic or not.”

“You don’t trust Star Swirl’s magic?” Pewter asked.

“No I bloody well do not!” I snapped back. “When it comes to my family I don’t trust anypony but myself to protect them, especially with Vela’s fruitcakes on the loose. Wendigo or not I’d send every damned one of them to Tartarus if they so much as looked at them the wrong way.”

Pewter shared a look with Briar. Whatever passed between them changed the atmosphere in our band and their demeanour towards me became… softer? I wasn’t sure. Shade smiled up at me and clicked her teeth. Gods, she was frightening. And beautiful. I reached down and scooped her up, holding her to my chest as tears threatened to break forth. “It’s alright little one,” I whispered. “We’re going home soon. You’ll be able to meet Sparrow Song and we’ll make up the guest bedroom for you. It’ll be a bit tight in the old cottage, but we’ll manage.”

“Ack!”

“Fairlight?” Pewter tossed one of her packs over to me. “There’s a sleeping bag in there. I brought a spare for you.” She smiled at me with a surprisingly gentle expression that almost had me giving her a double take. “Let’s get some sleep now, okay? We’ll sort everything out in the morning.”

“Suits me,” I replied. “I’m absolutely knackered.”

Pewter raised an eyebrow above her lantern yellow eyes, “Quite.”

Chapter Fourteen - Lamplight

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

LAMPLIGHT

Morning came with the now expected lack of anything other than the ever present stars. The darkness was slightly lighter I suppose, but it was a bit like the difference between light cream and magnolia paint. In other words, bugger all. I yawned expansively and attacked an itch on my neck with a good scratch. Sand fell away like rain, which unfortunately didn’t include any of the distinctively pungent odour I’d acquired during all my exertions recently. I was desperate for a bath, and frankly I was surprised the girls hadn’t commented on it. Hang on, didn’t I have my cleaning kit on me? Yes! The stream would furnish a good makeshift bath, and although it might be as cold as the devil’s buttocks, it would do the job well enough for my purposes. Best make sure the girls weren’t watching first though, I didn’t fancy an audience while I washed the ol’ particulars. I threw off my blanket and pulled myself out of the sleeping bag. A cup of tea first off, maybe some warmed up pastries too. The fire was still banked and wouldn’t take long to get going again, but that could wait whilst I-

“Girls?” I groaned and flopped back onto my bedding roll. But of the three females, there was no sign other than some disturbance in the sand which ended abruptly at the edge of the road. I should have seen this coming a mile off. “Damn it all...” At least they’d left a note, which was sitting atop a rock and weighted down with a smaller one. It read,

Dearest Nephew,

Briar, Shade and I are heading back to Maroc’s tribe. I’m sorry for not telling you last night or staying to say goodbye, but believe me when I say that doing it this way is going to be a lot easier on both you and Shade. Your offer of allowing us to stay with your family meant a great deal to us, and I think it shows how much you have matured since I saw you last. However, as much as I would love to see Meadow and Sparrow again, until this business with Vela is concluded, Briar and I both agreed that our proximity to you would endanger us all, including Meadow and Sparrow. So, my dear nephew, I shall bid you farewell for now and hope to see you again soon.

Love,

Aunt Pewter.

P.S/ If you find yourself back in Equestria, check in on Madame Pot-pourri at the Whistling Ferret in Lillypond would you? She took in my cats when I was on my last legs, but I think she’s feeding them mackerel when I distinctly told her they only like river trout. Also, what did you do with the books I left you? If you had bothered to read them, you may have actually remembered who Herath was!

Well that was bloody marvellous, wasn’t it? Shade, Briar, and Pewter bugger off and leave me here high and dry! I’d barely had five minutes with them too. With a heartfelt groan I flipped the note over. There was more:

Don’t keep hold of this note.

“Eh?” Suddenly the piece of paper burst into yellow flame and I leaped back in alarm, “OW! Celestia’s ears, that crazy old lunatic!”

The hot flames engulfed the note turning it into ash in the blink of an eye, along with a goodly number of my leg hairs which left me with the delicious aroma of burnt hair in my nostrils. Lovely… The stupid old fart. I suppose she did have a point about the books though. Tingles and I had kept them at the agency barracks, but I’d been so busy I hadn’t spent more than a few minutes reading the damned things. The ever diligent Tingles on the other hoof, had, and to my embarrassment I’d relied on her to point out the more salient points. Not that there was much there past folklore, poems and a load of dreary old bollocks that meant bugger all to me anyway. Of course the part about Herath had been the very first thing I’d learned about Vela and the massacre of the wendigo in the mountains. It too was where I’d found out about the destruction of their fortress and the borderline genocide committed by everyponies favourite white alicorn. But, as usual, I hadn’t remembered any of it until it was too late. Far, far too late.

“Fairlight, you’re an idiot,” I groaned aloud.

Gods, I didn’t even know what had happened to the blasted things since I’d left to go to Shining Borders. With everything else that had been going on, lugging around some musty old books of wendigo fairy stories hadn’t exactly been at the top of my priority list. At the time Lumin had been foal-napped by changelings, and after that… well, if I’m being completely honest I just kinda forgot about them. Oh, and being dead ‘may’ have had something to do with it too of course.

Considering the current state of affairs I don’t think anypony would blame me if I simply walked off into the mountains and disappeared like the rest of the wendigo. But what would that achieve? Shade and Briar were still in danger, as was Lumin, although the whole ‘Vela threat’ thing still felt a little ‘woolly’ truth be told. One egg wasn’t going to remove all the barriers preventing the wendigo using their magic here was it? But then, look at me; I hadn’t had any of the Roc’s egg and my wendigo power was back. Unfortunately it had taken being poisoned and the occasional life or death situation, but for better or worse my magic had returned and I felt on top of the world. It’s possible I was a one off of course, or worse, Vela’s manipulation of my situation had shown him exactly what he needed - the way to achieve his goals. There was also the matter of my being a ‘half breed’ rather than a ‘true’ wendigo, which may have had something to do with it I suppose. As much as I hated thinking about Vela’s reference to my being a ‘mongrel’, the results spoke for themselves. Speaking of which, I was starving! Now if there’s one thing I can do right, it’s make a decent camp fire, and in short order I had the banked coals stirred up and I was back in business. Soon enough the smell of bacon and mushrooms began to waft around my makeshift camp site. It was something I’d missed since my days in Equestria: camping beneath the open sky, the feel of the cool air on your fur, the smell of the outdoors, and the crackle of the campfire. I loved it. And good food, especially at breakfast time, can really set you up for the day ahead. A cup of good quality tea would also hit the spot, and that was precisely what it did. Briar had thought of everything: tea, pastries, travellers biscuits, and even some sticky honeyed treats wrapped in a type of paper that stopped their sweet contents from leaking out and spoiling the rest of the food. Remarkable! I was going to miss her, and Shade, and even Pewter to a degree. I stifled a chuckle. She may be a miserable old sod and mad as a box of frogs, but her heart was in the right place.

Stomach full and my clothes laid out, it was time for that wash I’d been promising myself. The water was strange here in the Darklands, yet as much as it tended to look like black quill ink, for all intents and purposes it was exactly the same as water anywhere in the herd, or Equestria for that matter. It even tasted pretty good, and made an excellent cup of tea. Best not to look too closely at it of course, but I didn’t mind my tea black. I sluiced myself off with a few bowlfuls of water, lathered, and then scrubbed myself thoroughly before rinsing off once again. It was probably freezing, but that was one of the advantages of being a wendigo, wasn’t it? Cold meant nothing to me now. I could still tell it was cold of course, but instead of the bone chilling shock of the frigid water, instead it felt pleasantly refreshing. And infinitely invigorating too. Gods, I hadn’t realised just how filthy I was and how good it felt to be clean once more. Now, towelled off and feeling altogether more like the stallion I should be, I finished dressing and fixed my packs on my back. The barding I strapped up and covered with my bedding roll. It was a little uncomfortable, but I didn’t have far to go thank Luna. Once I was back my first course of action was to get myself back to work and grovel to Zip Line. Hopefully I’d have to time to think of some plausible excuse on the way. Then, it was the hard part - going home to Meadow. With any luck she wouldn’t batter me to death with her rolling pin or plant a hoof in my mouth. Not that I didn’t deserve it of course, but we’d been through a lot worse than a few marital tiffs. Besides, I felt fantastic! No more of those damnable therapy sessions with the other misfits. No more weird puking or dizziness. Fairlight, the ex-watch stallion and last lord of the four winds, was back. Vela could wait. I’d deal with him when I was sure my family were safely out of his reach. Then, and only then, would all my accounts be paid in full. Right now, it was time to go home.

I picked up the road with my head held high. Strangely I felt quite upbeat considering everything that had happened. Glimmer was safe, Maul and I were on good terms, and Shade, Aunt Pewter and Briar were on their way to Maroc’s tribe for safety. All in all the outcome was quite positive really. Sure, I could have escorted them to Maroc, but if those girls could take out twenty or so warrior then I doubted I had much to worry about. Goddess above, and that was just one mare! Imagine what the two of them could do with their magic combined? I shivered; it was terrifying.

I was still grinning when I turned off the road and came face to face with the gorilla guarding the portal to the herd. His equestrian assistant was sat on a bench in front of the small guardhouse filing his hooves.

“Halt! State your business!”

I smiled broadly, “Going home is my business, my good stallion.”

I moved to walk past him but the thestral mountain of muscle sidestepped to block my path with a surprising degree of nimbleness. “Any contraband?” he asked in his gravelly voice.

“Bit of a lack of gift shops in the Darklands, I’m afraid,” I retorted cheekily. “So the answer’s ‘no’ today.”

“And that weapon?”

“Weapon? What-” I looked down to where he was staring and swore under my breath. “A wall hanger,” I explained with what I hoped would come across as an honest tone of voice. “I picked it up at a stall in the town.”

“Thought you said there was no gift shops, mate?” the pony called over from his perch. “Sounds like you’re trying to get one over on us.”

“It’s a present to myself,” I laughed. “I like quirky stuff, and this would look lovely over the mantelpiece. Honestly I’d forgotten it was there.” Which was true, unfortunately.

Quick as a flash the thestral guard flipped the keeper off the scabbard and drew out the scythe in one fluid motion. “A present to yourself… Yes?” He clicked the release and the black blade flicked out with a swish of air. “A very nice present, Equestrian.”

“Cor, look at that!” The pony jumped down from his bench and trotted over. “That’s some bit of kit you’ve got there!”

“It’ll come in handy for the lawn,” I said lightly. “My old one’s on its last legs and you know how fast the grass grows in the herd.”

“You’re pulling my plonker!” the stallion exclaimed loudly. “That things as sharp as my old girls tongue after a few jars! Fetlocks and buttocks, you could take a bloody hydra out with this!”

“There aren’t any hydras in the herd, are there?” I asked in genuine surprise.

The guard paused to scratch his neck, “Well… no. But it’s still bloody dangerous, innit?” He turned to his friend, “I don’t know about this, Char. You think it comes under section seventeen?”

“Illegal weaponry?” the big thestral replied.

“I think so.”

“Oh, for the goddess’s sake!” I exclaimed. “It’s a bloody garden tool!”

“What are you growing, deciduous dragons?” The stallion eyed the blade warily but somehow managed to maintain that infuriating look of disinterest that wasn’t quite what it seemed. Our boy here was a little more on the ball than I’d given him credit for it seems. “I think you’d best leave that here, mate,” he concluded.

“Like bollocks I am!” I took a step towards him and bumped straight into the immovable Char.

“Make another move, Equestrian,” he warned, “and I’ll put you in irons.”

His colleague nodded knowingly, “He means it. Thestral’s don’t do subtlety very well.”

“I know...” I muttered.

A peculiar chiming sound emanating from the hut caught my ears and drew the equestrian guards’ attention. “’Ello, sounds like the hot line,” the guard announced. “Keep him here, Char, and I’ll go see what the boss wants.”

As he walked away the hulking form of Char loomed over me. “Breed them big in your tribe, Char?” I asked.

Char said nothing.

“Strong silent type, eh?” I scratched my mane in thought, “Let me guess, Broken Cliff, right?”

“Scar River,” came the monolithic reply.

I frowned in thought, “Can’t say I’ve ever heard of them. I’ve met the Broken Cliff, Beyond, and Purple Sands tribes, but Scar River is a new one on me.”

“They were conquered by the Purple Sands,” Char replied. His way of talking made a glacier seem nimble in comparison.

“Oh...” I sensed I’d put a hoof right in it here. “I’m sorry.”

Char stood in silence, his burning eyes locked onto me like glue. After an uncomfortable few seconds he finally spoke, “Why are you sorry?”

“Because I know how important the tribe is,” I said honestly. “I also know how important honour is to you thestrals.”

The big guy’s stone faced expression gave little away, “They were stronger. We were weak. They are now part of a strong tribe. It is the will of the goddess.”

He spoke as if explaining things to an idiot. Or a child. And as for ‘the will of the goddess’, I doubted that somehow. Char’s tribe had been attacked and the survivors amalgamated into the Purple Sands by the sound of it. Now the Purple Sands had been absorbed into the Beyond tribe under the guidance of Shadow’s sister. An alliance through marriage had been arranged with the Broken Cliff, and it was only a matter of time before all three became one in all but name. If they hadn’t already. There was a working relationship between them that was quite amazing considering the warlike nature of thestral society. Now that I thought about it, the whole situation was remarkably simplistic in a sense, and distinctly thestral. You fought for your tribe, you were loyal to the lord, and did your duty. If you lost to another tribe you swore fealty to the new lord, and life went on as it did before. There seemed to be little in the way of subjugation or prejudice towards a conquered foe. Quite the opposite in fact. You simply became one of the new gang, changed the colour on your armour and your banners, and bob’s your uncle. Now when it came to being beaten by the ‘White Witch’ and her minions, now that was a different matter altogether. Thestrals it seemed, had the same degree of memory retention as the proverbial elephant. They didn’t forget, and the didn’t forgive. Although, that might not necessarily be completely fair. My relationship with Shadow and her family was testament to that, if you excluded ‘mum’ of course. Maelstrom was as deranged as they came, and I could only hope to the goddess that it didn’t run in families. The old psychopath had tried to sell her daughter off to a minotaur for goodness sake. Can you imagine what children that pairing would have spawned? Half minotaur, half thestral? Gods what a thought!

“How do you know the tribes?” Char’s unearthly voice rumbled through my ruminations as effectively as a train through a flock of sheep.

“I was in the Withers for a while,” I replied conversationally. “I met the tribes and made friends with many of them.”

“Who?” Char pressed. “Who did you make friends with?”

Oh, great! Now I’d really put my hoof in it. Still, it was too late now to back out. “Star Beard,” I replied. “Thorn, Far Sight, Maelstrom, Ember. I’d give you a more exhaustive list, but you get the idea.”

Char’s tree trunk sized brows drew down and he turned his head away in thought. I took a breath and sighed quietly. I had the impression this was going to take some time. I distracted myself by dealing with an itch under my cloak that turned out to be some sand that must have got stuck there when I’d-

“What is your name, pony?”

“Huh?” I looked up in surprise. “Um… Fairlight. Fairlight Loam.”

“Fairlight...” Char scratched his mane, annihilating half the hair there in the process. “I have heard of a pony who slew the lord of the Purple Sands tribe in single combat.”

“Yeah...” I shrugged it off as of no import. “It seems like a lifetime ago now.” I couldn’t help but chuckle, “I guess it was. Quite literally really.”

“You killed him?” he asked.

Slowly I looked up at the great leathery armoured stallion and smiled as our eyes met, “I did. I gutted him from stem to stern and watched as the steam from his innards rose into the dark sky above the white city of the goddess.” Oh gods, I could see it now: the exhilaration of battle, the sound of clashing weapons, the screams and neighs of warriors fighting for their lives. It was the song of war, the dance with death and the joy of life, all in one glorious moment. This was where the wendigo lived. This place, this place with the taste of your enemy’s life essence on your tongue and the sweet smell of their still warm blood on your fur. It was wrong, and yet so right. The lord had been slain. All hail the new lord…

“Okay, Char! Looks like that leave request came through, buddy. We’ve got two weeks at the water resort in-” The equestrian guard stopped in his tracks to stare at us. “Hey, what’s going on? What have I missed?”

“Nothing.” Char abruptly moved aside, giving me a clear path to the portal. “Here.” The thestral pushed my scythe back into its scabbard. “Do not allow anyone to take your weapon so easily in future.”

“I…” I blinked in surprise, “I won’t, Char. I promise.”

“Eh?” The equestrian stallion began to walk towards us, “Hey, you can’t just-”

“He can go through.” Char shifted himself between myself and his colleague who backed off in surprise.

“But he’s armed!” the pony stallion protested. “The boss’ll go spare if he finds out about this!”

“But the boss won’t find out, will he, Sandal?” Char fixed his friend with a stern gaze. “And besides, we will be at the water park in Fern Hills, correct?”

“Well, um, yeah...”

As usual my curious mind shifted gears on me, “Fern Hills?” The two stallions turned to look at me as I continued, “Doesn’t, you know, having a thestral go there cause a few… erm, raised eyebrows? You know how flighty ponies are.”

Char watched me carefully before abruptly, and to my surprise, bursting out into a deafening roar of laughter, “YES!”

Sandal rolled his eyes and leaned towards me conspiratorially, “That’s why he likes to go.”

You had to love these guys. “I suppose I’d better go then,” I said pleasantly. “Oh, and Char?” I glanced back over my shoulder. “Thanks. It’s been a pleasure to meet you. Both of you.”

He merely nodded, but I did receive a rather overly enthusiastic wave from his friend, “See you again! Oh, and next time you’re passing this way could you bring some elderberry tea bags with you? They’re a sod to get in the Darklands. Aren’t I always saying that, Char? Honestly, one of these days I’ll have to make that trip to...”

Sandal’s words faded away as the world shifted in a burst of the now familiar silvery light. A split second later, blue sky, green grass, white buildings, and brightly coloured ponies slammed into my maladjusted eyes with all the subtlety of a pissed off rhino in a blanket shop. “Celestia’s bucking arse, my eyes…!” I hissed. Gods, I was half blind!

“Just a second!” a familiar voice chimed in my ears. “Let’s get the lights down for you and I’ll get those packs off so you can sit down while your eyes adjust.” I did as I was told and felt the tingle of magic as my equipment was levitated from my back. “Aaaannnd… There! All done.”

Carefully I opened one of my eyes just a crack, “Huh? What the hell…?” The typically brightly coloured equestrian scene before me turned out to be little more than a poster advertising ‘Fun! Frolicks! Dancing!’ and something else I couldn’t focus on right then. Unfortunately the headache was something I definitely could, “Oh, dear gods, my bloody head!” Hooves guided me to a pleasantly comfortable chair which I sank into gratefully. My packs and equipment were floated over to me a few seconds later, held in the glow of unicorn magic. “Funnel Cake?” I asked warily.

“That’s me!” The happy sounding mad scientist from the portal room stared into my eyes from below some weird apparatus, “Hold still while I check your vision.” The odd stallion fiddled with various dials and levers on the machine, nodding to himself whilst muttering under his breath.

“What’s going on?” I asked. “Am I okay?”

“Of course you are, silly!” The black and white stallion leaned down and picked something up. “Your eyes have adjusted to the light of the Darklands and will take a little time to readjust. Now then, let’s get some drops in there and some sunglasses… here you go… and you’ll be right as rain in two shakes of a goat’s tail.”

“I think that’s ‘lamb’, actually,” I mumbled, wincing as the cold drops plopped onto my tortured eyeballs.

“Meh. Lamb, goat, what’s the difference? They both bleat,” Funnel Cake said dismissively. “And they’ve all got those weird eyes too, have you noticed?” He shivered, “Woo hoo hoo! Give me the creeps every time I see one.”

Well, whatever the drops were they felt amazing. The cooling effect was just what I needed too. “Thanks,” I offered. “Um, am I okay to go now?”

“Put your sunglasses on and you most certainly can,” Funnel Cake replied happily. “It’ll be about half a day before you can take them off though. Until then you’ll be a tad sensitive to light.”

“I thought the magic of the herd fixed everything!” I groused.

“It does, for the most part” the stallion answered. “Just not always right away.” He placed the sunglasses on my muzzle. “There you go. Looking good, you’ll really wow the ladies now!”

“Er, Funnel Cake?” I asked.

The stallion busied himself with opening the curtains, “Hmm?”

“It might sound strange, but…” I took a breath and tried not to sound concerned. “What colour are my eyes?”

“EH?” The highly strung unicorn trotted over to me bearing an expression of utter incredulity. One that suggested he’d thought I’d completely lost my marbles as well as my sight. “Why, brown, I think,” he said. “Hang on...” Funnel Cake lifted the sunglasses and peered into my eyes as I winced at the intrusion of light. “Yup, brown they are. Both of them too.” Much to my relief he replaced the sunglasses and blessed darkness returned. “Try not to worry, I know they feel a bit strange after your trip to the thestral afterlife,” he explained, “but you’ll be fine. I’ve been there before myself and I had a similar reaction after only one day! I mean, it’s no wonder they’ve got those freaky eyes of theirs living in that darkness all the time. Give me the sun above and the grass below, and I’ll be a happy chappy for the rest of my days thank you very much.”

“Yeah...” I sat back and sighed. So much for being a wendigo again. Damn it! After all this time I’d thought… I thought I’d actually… I squeezed my eyes shut and rolled off the bed. Picking up my gear, which Funnel Cake kindly helped me strap into place, I gave myself a hard shake. I suppose it was time to go and face the music.

I bid the lab coated pony farewell and strode out into the glaring sunshine of the eternal herd. For want of a better word, it was home. Or as near to one as I was ever likely to get now. From The Wyvern’s Tail in Shining Borders, to mine and Meadow’s first home, I had never had time to set down the kind of roots I really wanted to. It wasn’t for lack of trying either. Every time, every damned time I’d tried, somepony or some thing would come along and destroy everything around me. And there I would stand, knee deep in the ashes of my dreams while my world burned. Gods, this life sucked balls. Who ever though the bloody afterlife would be better, eh? Buck me ragged… My stomach rumbled ominously, distracting my more melancholy thoughts. Maybe some food would help me perk up a bit? The smell tingling my nostrils right then drew me like a moth to a flame.

I walked gingerly up to the vendor, one of many taking advantage of the passing trade today. Still a little disorientated by the oddly dulled image of the world through the sunglasses, I tapped on the edge of the serving area to get his attention. “One bacon bun, a cup of tea - milk with one - and one of those kebabs too, please.”

The griffin blinked, “I am sorry?”

I closed my eyes and groaned. What a bloody day! Taking a deep breath I tried again, “One bacon bun. One cup of tea with milk and one sugar. One kebab.” I raised an eyebrow, “Please?”

The griffin stared at his colleague in the apron who was turning the kebabs over a barbecue. A quick squawking discussion later and the two swapped places, the cook peering at me with those weird avian eyes, “Can I help you?”

I face hoofed, “One bacon bun. One cup of tea with milk and-”

“No.” The griffin shook his head, making his feathers ripple in the faint breeze. “You not understand, pony.” He pointed at the notice hanging up on the end of his cart. “This meat, yes? Not for ponies. You no eat, yes?” He made a circling motion over his chest, “Bad tummies.”

“Bad tummies...” I could have screamed. “Listen friend, will you serve me or not?” I asked him levelly.

“No.” The griffin shook his head vigorously, “I lose my licence!”

“You won’t sell me any food?”

“No. I no sell food.”

I’d had enough. “Then you can take that kebab and shove it right up your bucking arse!” I roared. “I’m going to a real griffin’s shop for some real food and something that resembles decent bucking service too! No wonder Sea Scour keeps a low profile. Blasted, bloody…”

I was still cursing to myself when a claw grabbed my shoulder. It was the griffin. “You say, Sea Scour, yes?” he asked pointedly. “You know him?”

“Yeah, what about it?” I replied.

The griffin saw my expression and removed his claw quickly. “He sell you food?”

“Yeah, ‘he sell me food’,” I replied sarcastically. “What’s it matter?”

“You wait, pony. Yes?”

“Bugger me...” I muttered. What the hell was going on here? They wouldn’t sell their wares to ponies? And what was that about licenses? Luna’s lugs, even here there was bloody bureaucracy and red tape. I mean seriously, what was the point? Currency had about as much value here as chocolate teapots, and money grubbing was still going on! Gods give me strength, what a thing to come back to. I was beginning to wonder whether I should have stayed longer in the Darklands when the griffin re-appeared.

“You take, yes?” A tray materialised before me covered in greaseproof paper and smelling of that most wonderful of things: bacon, together with the tantalising aroma of hot bread and onions. “Tea is in cup.” Sure enough a cup with a lid was pushed forward which I took in my magic. He wasn’t finished either. “One sugar. One milk.” He leaned towards me, “One kebab. Yes?”

“Yes.” I reached out and took the hot food, slipping it into my pack like some bloody thief on the take. “Thank you. How much do I-”

“No fee.”

I blinked in surprise. Griffins not taking money?! Something wasn’t right. “Why, what’s going on here?” I asked warily.

The griffin exhaled and glanced around in case anypony was listening. They weren’t. “Ponies not eat meat,” he explained squawkily. “Gods not like us doing this, yes? Sea Scour trust, so we trust.”

I hoped his butchery of meat was better than his butchery of my language. Each syllable was clipped and shortened with every clack of his beak, and as for his grammar - I was no scholar by any stretch of the imagination, but this guy made me look like a Celestian University level graduate. In any case, I was so hungry I could eat a hippo.

“Thanks,” I nodded. “It’s very much appreciated.”

The griffin gave a single bob of his head, glanced around furtively once again, and then shot back to his mobile hot food stand as quick as a flash. Personally I let him go without another word. What was the point? I had my food, it was free, and I was bloody starving irrespective of the peculiarity of the griffin’s behaviour. It was at least quiet around here today and I was able to find a handy place to park myself out of the way of prying eyes to enjoy my prize. And dear gods, was it ever worth it! Normally I didn’t eat much bread, Meadow was always warning me about colic and not being able to digest it properly and so on and so forth. But this… oh, how it melted in your mouth! Meat juice dribbled down my chin and dripped onto my hind leg which I promptly licked off. Onions, bread, meat; what a combination! I finished the last of it with a swig of hot sweet tea and started in on the kebab. It too was sensational. Onions, peppers of various colours, and pieces of meat all seared to perfection, slipped down my throat to join the rest of the meaty party. I’m not sure whether it was eating outdoors that made everything taste better, or being half starved, but whatever the reason it was absolutely delicious and hit the spot with enviable accuracy.

Sitting there I let out a long yawn and leaned back to enjoy the sun on my face. I was a creature of the sun alright, even if I did love the comfort of the night. And of course the sunlight in the mountains was always spectacular. But the best part? It was all ours once more, and with the blessing of the white witch herself no less. I suppose I could have told Vela to really piss him off, but it suited my purposes to keep the little turd in the dark. I owed him for what he’d done, and sooner or later I’d take him apart like a bucking jigsaw. Piece, after piece, after piece. I chuckled under my breath; yes… yes, I was going to enjoy this. Very much indeed. I closed my eyes and flopped onto the grass under a large sycamore tree. A few minutes wouldn’t hurt...

“And here he is.”

“Yeah...” I rolled my shoulders and sighed. It was so warm and so peaceful here. There were no manticores trying to eat me nor rampaging maniacs trying to turn me into pony sashimi.

“Having a nice snooze, are we?” the mare’s voice asked. “Full tummy too?”

“Mmhmm...”

“You look very and relaxed down there.”

“I am...”

“Good. That’s very good,” the voice said softly. I had a vague sense of somepony leaning close to my ear and half opened one eye as the foghorn blasted me full force, “WAKE UP!”

I sat up immediately, nearly dislodging my sunglasses and received a jolt of pain through my head for the trouble. Who the hell was that? I recognised the voice and… oh hell. “Zippy.”

“So you remember me. Con-grat-u-bucking-lations.” Zip Line stood before me in all her bristling sarcastic glory. “Where. The. Hell. Have. You. BEEN?!”

Goddesses above, had she been waiting for me or something? How the hell was she here?! My heart sank, but I suppose in one respect it gave me a push in the right direction and made me face up to my responsibilities. I’d left without a word and left her in the lurch with her superiors. She had every right to be furious with me, but as much as I wanted to be honest with Zip Line I wasn’t going to tell her everything.

“I had some stuff I needed to take care of,” I answered guardedly. Carefully I rose to my hooves and finished off my tea; it was stone cold now, but still good. “I’m sorry, Zip, it was a personal matter.”

“A personal matter...” The pegasus mare’s eyes narrowed as she advanced on me, “Says the pony wearing sunglasses.” She motioned towards the pile of packs, “Enjoy your holiday did you?”

“Give me strength...” I readjusted the sunglasses and turned to face the irate creature, “I’m photosensitive, alright? Bugger me...”

“Photo- ?” Zip Line stared at me as though she was looking at something from another planet. I could almost hear the cogs turning as her mind rumbled into action too. She glanced from me to the direction of the portal office, to the packs, to the piled barding and back again, her eyes widening as she came to a realisation. My heart sank in cold anticipation. She knew. “You’ve been to the Darklands,” Zip stated coldly.

“I went to see a friend, yes,” I replied. “That’s all. You don’t need to start reading things into-”

“You took that foal there, didn’t you.”

I froze, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, buck off!” Zip’s eyes blazed with irritation, “Don’t give me that crappy old line, Captain Fairlight Loam, you know damned well what I’m talking about.”

“Look,” I began. “Zip, let’s just go back to the barracks, eh? We can talk about this later and-”

Zip Line lowered her head threateningly, her voice calm but carrying a gravitas that took me a little off guard. “You took that foal there,” she cut in, “didn’t you.”

“I-”

“DIDN’T YOU?!”

Something snapped inside me. My temper flared white hot in an instant, and before I knew it I’d snatched Zip Line by the cloak and hauled her towards me. “YES!” I yelled, “Yes, I did! And you know what? I’d do it again too if I had to! You and your mates down at the barracks may enjoy murdering foals, Lieutenant Zip Line, but there’s no way in hell I was going to do something so… so utterly evil. When I swore an oath in Equestria it was to serve and protect the citizens of our home, and it didn’t matter what age, sex, or race they were. Even if the arse bucking gods ordered me themselves, I am not killing children. Is that clear enough for you? WELL, IS IT?” I searched her eyes before releasing my grip on her cloak in a snort of anger.

“You think I enjoy murdering children?” she asked pointedly, her voice dropping back down to near normal levels. “Is that really what you believe?”

“I don’t know what to believe, Zip.” I leaned down and hauled my packs onto my back, “Not any more. I’ve seen things in my life that I wish I hadn’t, and I had thought, hoped, that the eternal herd would have been a place I could put all of that crap behind me. But I guess I was wrong wasn’t I?”

There was a long pause before, “So, what now?” she asked. “Going to walk away again?”

“No.” I paused and glanced back at her, “I’m going to go back to work. If they’ll take me back.”

The pegasus mare shook her head with a look of exasperation crossing her lips. “They will.”

“They will?” I asked in surprise.

Zip Line nodded, “I covered for you.” She began to walk away, “I don’t know why I bothered to be honest, especially the way you just up sticks and left without even a word the way you did.”

“Yeah...” I gave her an apologetic look, which admittedly was lost behind the sunglasses. “Sorry. And… thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” she replied. “Now, are you going to tell me what’s going on or is it some big mysterious wendigo secret society crap?”

I chuckled. There was something about Zip that always managed to lighten my mood whenever I was near her. As such the last thing I wanted to do was involve her in what was happening in my bucked up life. And yet as much I would have loved to have shared that skip full of woes with her, I wouldn’t have wanted to inflict that on my worst enemy. Well, maybe with the exception of Vela; that would come with a side order of steel applied liberally to the throat area. I decided on telling Zip the truth, just a little edited to avoid too much prying.

“It was exactly what you guessed,” I admitted. “I took the foal to a friend of mine in the Darklands for adoption. I didn’t think I’d be away for as long as I was.”

“How long do you think you were away for?” Zip asked.

“I’m not sure really,” I replied honestly. “A week? Ten days-ish?”

Zip Line laughed, “Try two!”

“Two?!” I nickered in surprise before realisation dawned on me. “Ah, of course, the time difference.”

“Lesson number one, my dear captain,” Zip Line announced expansively. “Dimensional thaumaturgical fluctuation between the planes creates a distortion in temporal alignment leading to..?”

“A non-linear association in temporal perception and translative effects,” I quoted. “What the hell does ‘translative effects’ mean anyway?”

The pegasus shrugged, “Buggered if I know. All I can say for sure is that you can go on your jollies for a week and come back the next day.” She poked me in the chest, “As I think somepony knows quite well already wouldn’t you say?”

“It wasn’t a holiday.” I rolled my eyes but managed to catch the cheeky mares smirk. She was enjoying this far too much. “So, if I’ve only been away for a couple of days,” I pondered, “what did you tell them that would excuse my absence?”

“Oh, that was easy,” she replied with a grin. “I told them you and your wife went off for a dirty weekend together.”

“YOU WHAT?!” I nearly fell over in surprise.

“What’s wrong with that?” Zip Line asked, feigning innocence behind her large eyes. “I only did it to protect my dearest partner you know. Honestly, I thought… I thought that...”

“Oh, knock it off!” I gave her a shove and was rewarded with a bout of rip roaring laughter and a blast of air as the cheeky pegasus shot up into the air only to float back down a moment later. “You going back now then?” I asked.

Zip Line grinned, rolling through the air inches over my head with lazy strokes of her wings, “We are. You owe me a pint or two by my reckoning.” She frowned in thought and clucked her tongue, “Make that four. One for each day you were missing, an extra for upsetting me, and the last one because I deserve it. Personally I think you should be grateful I don’t charge you on Darklands time.”

“You’re an expensive date, Zippy,” I retorted.

“Cheapskate.”

We ambled along enjoying the sunshine, or in my case the feel of it rather than the brightness. My eyes were still sore, but after a little experimentation were definitely better than they had been. I tossed my mane and sighed. It was good to be back. As beautiful as the alien beauty of the thestral afterlife was, it couldn’t hold a candle to the magnificence of the herd. This was home, and as soon as I’d signed back in to work and grovelled appropriately, that was where I was going. Hopefully to find Meadow and Sparrow waiting for me. Then, my grovelling skills would really need to come to the fore.

A question popped into my mind, “Zippy?”

“Yeah?”

“How did you find me so quickly?” I asked.

“I hadn’t been sat there waiting for you, if that’s what you’re implying,” she replied testily. I ignored her barbed remark and let her continue, “If you must know, I was going shopping for some meat for Agrippa. The griffin merchants sell the real stuff and it’s better than the dry food and substitute gunk they sell in the market place. He had a urine problem that wouldn’t clear up, but the new diet has really done the trick.”

I scrubbed my forelock, trying to work out who she was talking about. “Did you say ‘Agrippa’?”

Zip Line turned a perfect pirouette in the air, “He’s my dog.”

“And you called him Agrippa?”

She nodded, “I did. Why, what’s wrong with his name?”

“Nothing,” I replied quickly. “I just wondered why you’d named him after one of the old senators from the empire.”

Zip Line floated above me silently, her large eyes watching me with a lot more scrutiny than my question seemed to merit. “What?” I asked.

The pegasus mare narrowed her eyes, “You surprise me sometimes, you know that?”

“I do?”

“Yeah...” Zip Line tapped her chin in thought, “I thought you said you hadn’t been to school much?”

“Of course I went to school!” I snapped. “I might not have been the brightest student there, but I’m not stupid, Zip.”

She shrugged, “But you know about the senators from the empire?”

“Only a few,” I confessed, “and that’s mainly from reading books at my aunt’s house when she was foalsitting. Anyway, it was either that or books on medicines, and these had pictures of soldiers and battles that as a young colt I found really interesting. Some of what I read just… stuck.”

“Well, Mister ‘swallowed a history book’,” Zip jibed. “For your information I didn’t name him after a senator at all.”

“You didn’t?”

“Nope,” she smirked down at me. “I named him after his habit of grabbing legs.”

“Huh?” I stared back at my winged colleague in befuddlement, “His habit of… Oh!” I closed my eyes as what she was implying planted itself front and centre in my already over active imagination. “He gets ‘a-grip-a’ your leg. Very witty.”

“It’s not all he does,” she sighed. “He’s an absolute nightmare around visitors.”

“Remind me never to go round to your house!” I laughed. “Honestly Zippy, couldn’t you get a normal pet?”

“He is normal, you cheeky sod!” Zip Line retorted. “He’s just a bit frisky, that’s all.” She sighed loudly, “Oh, who am I kidding. He’s a right bloody pest! I got him from my gran when he was a puppy, and he’s always been like this.”

“Can’t you take him to somepony?” I asked.

“I have,” she replied. “Behavioural specialists, dog trainers, you name it. But you know, as much as a pain as he can be, he’s still a part of my family.”

“Well, we all have our faults,” I smiled broadly. “Even me.”

“And there was me thinking you were the very embodiment of the word ‘perfection’,” Zip Line joked. “Anyway, we’re here now.”

And we were too. I hadn’t realised how close to the barracks we were and my hooves had pretty much brought me here of their own accord. Now, with the white washed walls looming over me, my heart sank in my chest. Zip may have done her best to cover for me, but I had still walked off without leaving so much as a word to anypony here, let alone cleared it with my superiors first. A nudge from behind brought me round to my senses with a start. Zip Line’s grinning face said it all. She knew damned well I was nervous, and I had a right to be. What was really irritating was that she didn’t need to be so damned smug about it. I took a deep breath. Well, here we go…

*********************

The barracks was exactly the same as when I’d left for my unplanned jaunt to the Darklands, which was hardly surprising considering in ‘herd time’ I’d only been away for two days. I don’t know what I’d been expecting really, but I was damned glad of it. Guards ponies trotted here and there off on their various errands, staff pottered around cleaning and tidying, while over it all the sound of somepony shouting wafted over us with the kind of dulcet tones only a drill sergeant could muster. I shared a look with Zip and we picked up our pace, eager to reach the barrack rooms before-

“Zip Line! Lieutenant Zip Line!”

“Oh… damn it all!” Zip Line froze. “Captain, get yourself inside before he sees-”

“Hey! You there!”

Zip face-hoofed, “Too late...”

The white stallion in the burnished silver and gold armour trotted up to us with all the self assurance that this particularly confident officer made look all too easy. “Lieutenant?” he began. “I thought you were supposed to be on leave?”

“I was, Sir,” Zip Line said quickly, snapping off a surprisingly smart salute. “I met the captain here in town and decided to spend the rest of the day bringing him up to speed.”

Argo nodded vigorously, “Good! Good! Very diligent of you, Lieutenant.” He turned to me, “And did you, erm, ‘fix’ things with your good lady, Captain?”

I swallowed, “I… Yes, sir. I believe so.”

“Excellent!” Argo patted me firmly on the shoulder, “All’s well that ends well, eh?” That was when I noticed the clip board being carried by his assistant. “Have you met my adjutant, Index, Captain?”

“No, Sir.” I leaned forward and shook the newcomers extended hoof, “Captain Fairlight. A pleasure.”

“Fairlight?” The bespectacled clerk stared down at the chart floating in the glow of his magic. “I’ve no Captain Fairlight on the roll.”

Argo clucked his tongue, “Try under ‘Corn Bread’.”

“Corn Bread… Corn Bread… Ah! Here it is.” Index scratched his mane, nodding to himself, “Are you one and the same?”

“I think we can drop the pretence now, Argo,” I opined. “Everypony in the barracks knows who I am, and honestly I can’t bloody well stand being called ‘Corn Bread’ anyway.” I raised an eyebrow in Zip Line’s direction, “Or ‘Corny’ for that matter.”

“Fair enough.” Argo motioned to his assistant, “Make the necessary changes if you would please, Corporal.

“Yes, sir.”

Argo turned back to face us, “Now that that’s out of the way, you can both help me with a problem I need sorting out.”

“We can?” I exchanged glances with Zip who shrugged helplessly. Apparently she didn’t know what it was about either.

“I want you and the Lieutenant to recover a soul from the Ponyville General Hospital,” Argo explained. He took the clipboard from Index and read it, nodding to himself several times before passing it back. “It’s a simple collection job: In and out, no fuss. Can you be ready by, say, eighteen hundred?”

“But that’s only half an hour from now!” Zip Line blurted suddenly. “I’m supposed to be on leave until-”

“-But you’re at work now, Lieutenant,” Argo replied levelly. “Besides, I’ve been short hoofed the last couple of days, and I know you wouldn’t mind providing cover for your comrades. Would you?”

There was what you could conservatively call a ‘pregnant pause’ before Zip Line answered simply, “No, Sir.”

“Good girl.” Argo turned to me and raised an eyebrow, “That’s non regulation equipment, Captain.”

“I know, Sir,” I replied smartly. “I’ll be taking it home when I’m off duty next.”

“Which won’t be for a while yet I’m afraid.” The white stallion glanced at his watch, “You now have twenty eight minutes until your jump. I wouldn’t hang around if I were you.”

“No, Sir!” Both of us saluted smartly and hurried away from the courtyard to the relative sanctuary of the changing rooms.

Sunlight swapped placed for brightly painted plaster walls. Despite the usually unimaginative layout of such buildings, a variety of paintings and banners hung here and there with typical military precision. Even the pot plants were perfectly maintained. Generations of officers, heroes of old, and innumerable battle scenes reminded the viewer of past acts of valour or events that in reality probably bore little if any resemblance to what the artist had portrayed. Mind you, who would want to be reminded of crushing defeats or the sight of a battlefield covered in the dead and dying? Mind you, considering everything I knew about the herd it was quite likely the subjects of some of the paintings were still around too. Maybe even here! My inner fan-colt stirred at the possibility of meeting some of the more famous ones I’d read about in Aunt Pewter’s history books during my many interminably boring stays with her. On the subject of mares, somepony had told me once that the equestrian military was one of the few in the world that had what he had called ‘female influence’. I’m not sure I understood that comment in exactly the same context as was intended though. After all, the equestrian army, royal guard, the watch, and every other organisation across the land had always been a mix of mares and stallions. If, as I suspected, there was some form of prejudice being referred to, it would have been between the three tribes: the pegasi, the unicorns, and the earth ponies. Now that was the real issue in equestrian society, and it always had been. A thousand years and more of ‘getting along but not being happy about it’ had eventually led us to the modern age where such considerations were considered unimportant. By most anyway. Pegasi still thought they were superior to everypony else, unicorns thought anypony who wasn’t a unicorn was dumb as a bag of hammers, and earth ponies… well, earth ponies just got on with it like they always had done. What the hell the gods had been playing at my making three distinct tribes was beyond me. It was obviously going to cause conflict right from the off, and by Celestia it had too. And speaking of Celestia, where had she been when the three tribes had been trying to annihilate one another? History says she came along later, although exactly when is debatable. And in any case, what had she actually managed to achieve when she did? If you can believe the old stories, the three tribes had come together more out of desperation than anything else and had united against the wendigo. It was after that that they then went on to create the Equestria we know today, and without any alicorn pseudo-goddess help. This part of the story sounded distinctly plausible, although exactly how it had all ended was definitely in question. Celestia hadn’t been around to commit mass murder of course, otherwise I probably wouldn’t be here now, so some sort of accord must have been reached. What I did know about Celestia was that she had been involved in the conflict with the changelings in what some called the ‘War of Tears’ or the ‘Existence War’; names which meant little to me. Then along comes Sombra, and war once again. Gods, was there a time when we weren’t at war? The Legion, Yak-Yakistan, the Llamalian Empire… the list goes on.

“For a race of prey animals we sure love killing...”

“Huh?” Zip glanced over her shoulder at me, “What are wittering on about now?” She flung her forelegs up in exasperation. “Goddesses buck me sideways, as if things weren’t bad enough, now my partner’s started talking to himself!”

I clucked my tongue, rolling my eyes at her antics. I decided to change the subject before my mental state became questioned any further. “Any idea what this mission is?” I asked.

“How the hell should I know?” The black and white mare snorted angrily, flinging her locker door open and roughly shoved her packs inside, “I’m supposed to be on leave until tomorrow for bucks sake! But no, I had to bump into the ‘bad luck boy’ in town and then it’s ‘back to work Zippy’! Lucky old me, eh? DAMN IT!” She slammed the locker shut with a deafening clang.

“It was your choice to come back here with me,” I replied levelly, “so don’t go blaming me!”

“I know that! Gods!” Zip snapped. She roughly grabbed her equipment, cloak and dagger, nearly whacking me in the face with the damned thing as she did so. “Come on, let’s get to…” She paused, staring at my pile of equipment on the floor as I tried to fit it all into my locker. “What. The. Hell. Is. THAT?!”

“What?” I followed her gaze to the scabbard containing the scythe, “Oh, that? It’s for the garden. I picked it up at a market in the Darklands.”

“A scythe?!” Zip Line stared at me with wide eyes, “You bought a scythe?”

I sighed, pulling on my cloak. “Yes, I bought a scythe.”

“Pfff!” Zip covered her mouth with a hoof, “You do know we invented lawn mowers, right?”

“Yes...” I rolled my eyes and tried to ignore the jibe. “I know we invented lawn mowers.”

Zip tapped her chin, “Sooo…”

“What?”

“Do you still use oil lamps?”

I shoved the locker door closed, avoiding eye contact. “I’m not answering that, Zip Line. We’ve got a-”

“You do! Oh my goddesses, you still use oil lamps!” Zip Line burst out laughing, her earlier foul mood evaporating in an instant. “Hang on, I think I’ve got a wax tablet and abacus you can borrow, granddad. Whoops! Sorry, I forgot, they’re in… wait for it… a museum!”

“I have magic lamps too, thank you very much,” I retorted sharply. I was starting to find Zip’s comments more than a little irritating at this point. “I just happen to like the light oil lamps give off.”

“And the smell!” she snorted merrily.

“And the smell,” I agreed. “I happen to like it.”

“Damn. And I thought I was old!” Zip Line huffed and returned to clipping on her cloak. “You’re not seriously going to use that thing, are you? You could chop your leg off.”

“It’s going over the fireplace,” I said brushing her remark aside. “It’ll look very nice in the cottage. Very rustic.”

“Very rust-y, more like.” Zip’s cheeky grin brought a secret smile to my face. For such a highly strung creature she was fun to be around and had a way of effortlessly lightening the mood. As for myself, I was just relieved to get back to work and find things hadn’t changed. Part of me wished I’d gone home first of course, but the cowardly part of me wanted to avoid it for as long as possible. That said, I didn’t even know if Meadow had come back from her parents house yet. Pop had gone, so there was no help there, and it wasn’t like I could drop everything and fly off to the other side of the eternal herd to call in on them, especially not after being missing for two days already. I don’t know what the punishment for desertion was here, but I didn’t fancy finding out the hard way. I decided to take my mind off it all by busying myself with the task at hoof. And so, dutifully armoured up, geared up, and bright eyed if not necessarily bushy tailed, we ended up in the briefing room. As usual the rest were already out on missions and our briefing was, as Argo had said, as simple as they came. We walked in, were given a mission pack, and then promptly left to sort ourselves out. Being the new starter it didn’t surprise me particularly, but it still rankled my pride.

“So who’s our boy today then?” I asked.

Zip Line dragged up a bench seat next to mine and pulled out the paperwork, “Chap called Melted Cheese would you believe,” she read. “Won’t leave the hospital ward apparently.”

“Gods help us...” I face hoofed in dismay. “Melted Cheese? Who names these ponies?”

“Parents who like melted cheese?” Zip Line offered.

“Yeah, but that’s not even a real thing is it?” I reasoned. “I mean it’s like calling your child Fart Cloud, Skid Mark, or something stupid like that.”

“Melted cheese is a real thing,” Zip Line replied, “Just not a very… you know, sensible thing to call your child.”

“Like Colander, Wooden Spoon or Pepper Pot?” I enquired.

Zip shrugged, “I knew a mare called Spatula once.”

“I can imagine,” I sighed. “Back when they had that bloody awful trend for naming foals after kitchen utensils wasn’t it?”

“Goddesses, I know!” Zip shook her head, “We had some poor soul called Baking Tray. Poor kid was tortured during home economics. Still, I thought always Colander was quite cute a name.” She stretched her wings out and moaned under her breath, “Anyway, be careful with those ‘Spoon’ references.”

“Why’s that?” I asked.

“The Major’s mother was called Wooden Spoon.”

“Oh, for f-”

Zip Line clucked her tongue and waved a chastising forehoof at me, “Now, now, language.”

She passed me the briefing pack. The job looked perfectly straight forwards like Argo had said. Melted Cheese was a late middle aged stallion who had died from complications following what should have been a routine operation. Poor sod, he’d had a rare but massive allergic reaction to the anaesthetic and never came round. Accountant by trade, he’d left a marefriend and one son behind. Under normal circumstances he should have passed over after his heart stopped, but something had anchored him there in the hospital. I could probably guess what I was, but we’d have to get there and find out for sure.

“All set?” Zip asked.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” I nodded. “Let’s go.”

The sooner we got this over with the faster I could get home and try to patch things up with Meadow. If she was home of course. I hoped she was. I hated going back to an empty house, and for that matter, an empty bed. As much as I liked my own company I missed the understanding and companionship of my beloved wife. And Sparrow of course. A pest she may be at the best of times, but the laughter and joy she had brought us had been immeasurable. So much so that it frightened me to think of her growing up, leaving home, and going her own way in life. But such is the cycle of the world. Well, the herd anyway. Gods, it was hard to stop thinking in terms of being dead. The herd was so much like Equestria that it was easy to forget that we weren’t alive any more. In many respects it was like we’d simply finished one story to begin another. Only this time, it was the last book. A very big book, true, but there was no afterlife after this one. A shiver ran through me; I most certainly did not fancy the idea of reincarnation one little bit!

I was still lost in my thoughts when we arrived in the portal room and I received a bop on the head from Zip Line.

“Hoy! Stop daydreaming!”

I gave myself a shake and gave her an apologetic look, “Sorry. Lack of sleep I guess.”

“Well you can get some sleep after we get this job sorted, okay?” Zip Line sighed, “Look, I don’t need you dropping off over there, right?”

“Yes ma’am,” I grinned.

“Cheeky sod.”

Zip Line trotted over to one of the lab coated unicorns and hoofed over our pass. Typically the mare in the white coat seemed far more interested in the machinery than the ponies in front of her, but this lot had always been a breed apart. They lived in their own world of numbers, formulae and weird flashing things that went right over my head. So when she actually spoke, it took me completely by surprise.

“Zippy?” The unicorn peered over her spectacles at my partner, “What are you doing here? Weren’t you supposed to be on leave?”

“‘Supposed to be’, being the operative words, Bell,” Zip Line replied bitterly. “I was shopping for pet food in town when I bumped into his lordship here. I walked back with him and Argo nabbed me.”

So much for ‘us’ then, I thought sarcastically.

“Should have gone straight home,” Bell cast a glance in my direction, “He’s the new guy, right?”

“Yeah.” My partner rolled her eyes, obviously more than happy to talk about me when I was in the same room. Gods, how I hated that! “Hey,” Zip Line continued, “where is everypony anyway? Why are we being pulled in on a routine job at the last minute?”

“No spare bods,” Bell shrugged in a matter-of-fact tone. “That job over at the palace has got everypony running around like a kicked over ant-hill. What’s worse is there’s some sort of bug in the system.”

“Bug?” Zip asked cocking her head on one side. “What, like some sort of matrix glitch?”

“Apparently.” Bell indicated the console behind her, “Lindy’s team got sent to the Llamalian palace yesterday when they were supposed to go to Las Pegasus. Butterscotch and her team were scheduled to go on a recovery in Yak Yakistan and ended up in the Marshal’s office when she was in the middle of a meeting with the board.”

Zip Line’s hoof flew to her mouth. “What, they just popped up in there?!”

Bell shrugged again, “Several feet in the air over the coffee table apparently.” She raised an eyebrow, “We heard the crash from here.”

“Oh, my goddesses!”

“You said it,” Bell said putting our chitty into the large blinking machine. “Apparently it was an expensive tea service too. The Marshal went on the rampage and kept screaming at the director something about ‘spoiled cakes’?”

“What did you do?” Zip asked.

“Me?” Bell sniffed, “I decided to make myself scarce. I locked myself in the loo and said I had the runs.”

“Bloody hell...” Zip lifted her head and eyed the portal warily., “Did they find out what the problem was?”

“Nope.” Bell shrugged, “You should be alright though, we ran a diagnostic this morning and so far so good.”

“Hang on,” I chipped in. “What do you mean, ‘should be’? I don’t fancy materialising in some bloody Ursan’s cave or a dragon’s den or something because your stupid machine’s knackered!”

“My ‘machine’ as you so politely put it, is not stupid!” Bell’s mane bristled as she locked eyes with me. “This is a delicate precision instrument designed around quantum thaumaturgical theorum and excited particle physics.”

The whispered words were out of my mouth before I could apply the verbal brakes, “It’s not the only one that’s excitable...”

“What was that?!”

“I said we needed to get going,” I answered quickly. “Zippy? You all set?”

The mare raised an eyebrow and shot me a look which threatened bloody retribution if I said another word, “Ready here. Your ‘lordship’.”

“Don’t worry,” Bell shouted over to us as the portal began to coalesce, “I’m sure it’s perfectly safe. I’ll do my best to make sure you don’t materialise inside a suitcase.”

“EH?!” I stumbled forward, turning to look back over my shoulder. “You-” I didn’t get a chance to finish my sentence as a quick shove from Zip Line pitched me into the silver light, and the horrible feeling of having your insides scooped out and the dumped back inside again, reasserted itself once more. A heartbeat later I landed on the hard stone flagstones of… somewhere.

“Zippy?” I breathed, “Am I… alright?”

“You’re upside down, you idiot!” Zip Line reached down and grabbed my hoof, pulling me upright. “Gods, are you sure you’re a wendigo?”

“Last time I looked,” I grumbled.

I brushed the dust off my coat, cloak and armour. The least I could do was attempt to look at least reasonably presentable. Judging by our surroundings, ‘smart’ was definitely the order of the day too. Whoever ran this place sure kept a tight ship by the looks of things, and everything from the neatly cut lawns and elegant gardens to the fountain and the manicured trees and bushes, was absolutely pristine. On the driveway sat an ambulance, painted white with a large red cross on the side. The driver who was wearing a matching white tunic looked to have just dropped off his patient and was sat on the rear step with the doors open smoking a pipe. I wish I’d been able to join him for one; I hadn’t had a smoke since I’d been in the mountains. By the gods, what an experience that had been. Gods Hooves? More like the Arse of Tartarus. So Maroc lived beyond the mountains did he? There had to be an easier way to get there, and what with that roc flying around and dragons I hoped the girls would be alright finding their way there.

“Coming?” Zip Line held the door open for me and I gave myself a shake, following her in to the lobby.

Inside was a tilers nightmare. Acres of white tiles covered everything in sight, making the white coated staff nearly invisible against the brilliant background. At least the reception desk was wood. The mare sitting behind it looked up as the doors shut behind us and shrugged it off as a trick of the wind. Being invisible to other ponies was a decidedly strange experience, and one that promised all sorts of possibilities if one had the mind for it. The younger Fairlight would have been tempted by all sorts of youthful wickedness, wickedness including shower rooms no doubt, but nowadays my interest in practical jokes and leering at mares were a thing of the past. Mostly. Besides, when you had the perfect wife at home who loved you no matter what idiotic stunts you pulled, what was the need to eye up other mares? That didn’t mean I didn’t still appreciate their form of course, that was only natural for a stallion, but looking and touching were two very different things. Unfortunately my libido had a mind of its own and had got me into trouble more than once over the years. One time had been with Meadow at her work when she’d been working in Manehattan General Hospital, a place not dissimilar to this one in some respects, but at least double the size. There, with her in her nurses uniform and me in my watch uniform, we found a whole new use for the cleaners store room. Ah, happy memories! This place though was the kind of location where happy memories were rare, if not non-existent. It might have looked like a hospital, what with the doctors and nurses going about their business, but there was a strange atmosphere here, and one which had the hairs on my back standing to attention. And then there was the smell. Don’t get me wrong, it was as clean as a whistle, cleaner even, but it just felt… ‘wrong’ somehow. Rather than the hustle and bustle of Manehattan General, by comparison this hospital was near silent. Outside of the lobby the corridors were all carpeted. The stairs were carpeted too. There were pot plants and bouquets, all fresh, dotted throughout the hospital in abundance. Tending to them, watering and replacing the fading ones, must have been a full time job in itself. It was a peculiar place alright, and with a correspondingly peculiar atmosphere. Everypony here was quiet and spoke in hushed tones. In some respects it was more like a monastery than a hospital, with the doctors and nurses hurrying along the carpeted hallways in whispers whilst patients and loved ones talked in equally hushed tones. And of the families and friends of the patients here, there were a lot. I sidestepped to avoid one family walking down the stairs, the husband with one foreleg around wife whilst their two children walked on ahead, both of them bearing the same expression of confusion and emptiness. I’d heard of these places, but never had cause to go into one. I prayed, I never would again.

“Fairlight? He’s in here.”

I focussed on the note stuck over the glass panel in the door:

Please do not enter.

If you need to gain entry, please ask the reception staff or Doctor Fallon.

There was no need, the door was unlocked, and following Zip Line’s lead I slipped inside, closing it behind us. The staff didn’t bat an eyelid, but then they never did, did they? But gods, what was this feeling? A shiver ran down my spine making my legs twitch. It wasn’t cold, the room was quite warm really, but there was a tension in the air that felt like something monumental was about to happen. Or perhaps… already had. The well appointed private room itself was in near darkness, the blinds having been closed to stop anypony wanting to see in from the rear garden. Not that anypony would want to. This place, this room, had been the last view the still form under the bed sheets had seen of this world. Such as it was. Like the rest of the hospital, the heavy feeling of utter emptiness was all pervasive. I hated it. Every part of my being screamed at me to get out of there, to leave this place before I became part of it, before it began to drain my life away as it had with so many others.

“He’s not here.” Zip Line lay her hoof on my shoulder, “Hey, are you okay?”

“Huh?” I started in surprise at her touch, “Um… yeah. Yeah, I’m okay.”

“You sure? You look a little peaky.”

I swallowed, but my throat was so dry I nearly gagged. “Zip, look, can we just find him and get out of here please?” I tried to take a ragged breath and regain my composure, “Sorry, it’s just… you know.”

“I do,” she nodded, smiling at me gently. “It’s just the way it is with these places. But they do a good job here. A job that needs doing, even if we don’t want to admit it.” She smiled faintly, “I thought about working in one of these myself once, but I just couldn’t do it. I couldn’t just… watch somepony… fade away.” Zip gave herself a shake, her old self re-emerging like the sun from behind a cloud. “Right then, where the hell’s our Melted Cheese gotten to then?”

I looked around the room, but of our missing pony there was no sign at all. “Have you got your soul compass thingy with you?”

“Never leave the afterlife without it.” The black and white mare reached into her pack and pulled the familiar object out. “Make with the magic mister unicorn.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

Blue magical light enveloped the compass and floated it out of Zip’s grasp to hover in the air between us. The small dial span for a moment before coming to halt, pointing confidently out of the door and off down the corridor in the opposite direction. With no other option we obediently followed its lead. Staff walked past us as easily as water passes by a ship’s hull as it cuts through the waves. Occasionally one of them would look back with a look a puzzlement on their face, baffled by why they had suddenly swerved to avoid us. Then, as I had come to expect, they would merely shrug it off as ‘one of those things’ and continue on with their day without giving it a second thought. I wonder how many times that had happened to me throughout my life? I had certainly had many instances of ‘deja vu’, whereby I would feel as though I had been somewhere before in similar circumstances, but was that the same thing? A strange feeling, a sensation of somepony being there and turning around only to see nothing at all? I don’t know. To Zip Line, this was a perfectly every day occurrence, but to me it still felt more than a little strange. Meanwhile the black and white pegasus walked ahead of me, following our compass bearing and occasionally sticking her head into one of the many private rooms.

“I don’t understand,” Zip said under her breath. “The compass says he’s here but-”

Right on cue a peel of laughter rolled out from the last room in the corridor. Typical! Well, at least we’d found him and would be on our way back again soon. Goddesses, I wanted to go home so much! A hot shower… no, a bath. Yes! A hot bath, some hot food, and a good nights sleep in a bed instead of that bloody black sand would be just what I needed. As for our boy Melted Cheese, he’d be on his way to the herd if I had to put a hoof up his arse to do it.

I spotted him straight away. For once he looked exactly like he did in the briefing photograph too. He was a bright yellow coated fellow with soft topaz eyes; a unicorn too. He was sat on the end of the bed playing some sort of board game I wasn’t familiar with. It seemed to be made up of large squares and lines with counters of red and blue. Cheese was blue it seemed, and judging by the number of red counters beside him, he was doing well.

“Got you!”

Okay, make that ‘winning’.

“Better luck next time my dear fellow. Fancy another round?” Cheese waggled his eyebrows at the stallion sat in the chair beside him.

The black earth stallion with the white muzzle and socks didn’t look so sure. “I don’t know, Cheese, I can’t get my head round the rules.”

“Oh, don’t be so defeatist!” Cheese joked, “Navakankari is a bit hard to understand when you start out, but I assure you, my friend, it is well worth it in the end.”

“If you say so.” The earth pony took a deep breath and rolled his shoulders. “What about our guests?” He jerked a hoof in our direction, “Can’t you ask one of them to take a turn and let me watch?”

Zip Line was staring at the two males, “How…?” She gave herself a shake and lifted a hoof, “You can see us? Both of you?”

“What, did you think you were invisible or something?” Cheese asked a little sarcastically. “You’re standing right there in front of us.”

“You have to admit,” the black and white stallion added, “wearing armour in hospital is a little unorthodox to say the least. Royal guard, right?”

“Um...” Zip blinked and quickly took out our briefing instructions. “Fairlight,” she whispered, “There’s only supposed to be one to collect! Why are there two?” The puzzled mare looked up from her paperwork. “Fairlight? What’s wrong? Why are you-”

I stepped forward, cutting her off. My eyes were on the stallion sat in the chair. He was so… thin.

“Fairlight?” Zip Line touched my shoulder but I ignored her. All my attention was on the earth pony staring back at me with that familiar look of vague disinterest I had always associated with him. And hated.

I nearly choked on the word. “Dad?”

“Come to visit, have you?” the stallion huffed noisily. “Better late than never I suppose.” He looked me up and down, his eyes lingering on the helmet crest. “I see you made the guard then, so that’s good news at least. Softer than the watch too I bet.”

“Dad...”

Cheese glanced at his friend and then back to me, “Are you two related? Father and son?” His eyes went wide in surprise, “Well slap me senseless!”

“Maybe later...” Zip muttered. She checked her document case again and turned to me, “Fairlight, is he really your father?”

“Lamplight,” I breathed. “Lamplight Loam.”

“Always hated the surname,” my father nodded to Zip. “Never used it myself. Neither did he either from all accounts.”

“Dad...” I gave myself a shake, making my father wince at the sound of the clattering armour. “What… What are you doing here? How can you see me? I don’t-”

“You never were the brightest, were you, Fairlight?” Lamplight shook his head with that disappointed expression I knew all too well from my youth. “You were a watchstallion, weren’t you? Can’t you work it out for yourself?” He sighed loudly and face-hoofed, “In answer to your first question, the answer is lying in the bed behind me. As for the second, since I’ve never been in a situation like this before, I suspect you know more about it than I do. So, ‘Captain’, captain your way to an answer using the evidence in front of your muzzle before asking stupid questions.”

My father had a way of getting under my skin that was second to none, and this time was no different from all the others. Part of me wanted to scream at him, whilst another wanted to smack him square in the mouth. Thankfully the part that won was the calm part that had noticed the lump under the bed sheets, the tubes running up to bags of fluid that slowly dripped… dripped… dripped. I closed my eyes and tried to push the ice cold feeling of dread away from the forefront of my consciousness and concentrated on breathing as normally as I could.

“That’s you in the bed, isn’t it,” I said quietly.

“An excellent deduction,” father announced in his typically monotone voice. “I can see how you made captain with those sterling investigative powers.”

That damned sarcastic tone. That bored sounding voice and the infuriatingly dismissive attitude. It was all there. All of it! “And I did it on my own,” I said coolly, “without any help from my absent father.”

“Did you need help?” Lamplight asked testily.

“I didn’t exactly have the opportunity to ask!” A flush of hot anger sizzled through me from muzzle to tail. “You sodded off and left mum and I when we needed you the most!”

My father snorted, “And yet somehow you still managed to make it to captain all the same. Tell me, Fairlight, what help do you think I could have given you that couldn’t be given at the academy, hmm?”

“That’s not the point, Dad, and you know it,” I answered quickly. “You’re trying to twist what I’m saying.”

Father sneered at me coldly, “In your imagination, perhaps.”

“Oh, buck off!” I snapped. “Gods, you’re always like this! Can’t you for once in your life stop acting like a self-righteous prick and be straight with me? For once, Dad, please.”

He rolled his eyes and clucked his tongue noisily, “Don’t plead, Fairlight, it’s embarrassing. Act like a stallion and pull yourself together, will you?”

“Um…” Zip Line tried to interject. “Would you two excuse me for a minute? I need to have Cheese on his way.”

“On my way?” Cheese asked curiously. “Why, whatever do you mean?”

“She means they’ve come to take you to the eternal herd.” My father lay a hoof on his friend’s shoulder. “You should go with them now, it’s better than hanging around this shit-hole.”

“Eternal herd?” Cheese frowned, apparently confused by the notion. “Are you saying I’m… I’m dead?”

“It’s why your body’s in another room, yes.” And then Lamplight did something I don’t remember him ever doing for me in all my years growing up with him. He smiled. “Come on old stallion, I’ll be along shortly, and then we can play another round of this game with the bloody silly name.”

“I… I don’t know.” The yellow stallion scrubbed his mane furiously, “I just came in for a small op’. They said I’d be going home the next day! What am I going to do? All my stuff’s there, my memories… who I am...”

“In the herd you start again.” Zip’s calm voice pulled the worried fellow’s attention fully. “You can have the home you always dreamed of in a world where the grass is lush, the sky as blue as the most perfect summer sky, and the trees hang low with every kind of delicious fruit.” She smiled gently, “It’s home, Cheese. For all of us.”

“Trust me, you don’t want to stay here,” Lamplight added. “Personally I can’t wait to be away. Now come on,” he patted his friend on the shoulder, “you get off and get the tea on. I’ll be there in two shakes.”

“Navakankari?” Cheese asked hopefully.

“Do we have to?” Lamplight shook his head, “Why can’t we play something simpler to start with? All these exotic games are giving me a headache.”

Cheese grinned, “Of course. But you know I’ll still win.”

“Oh, bugger off!” Lamplight chuckled. “Go on, away with you! Get the bloody tea on, and one sugar this time.”

Zip turned to me and whispered in my ear, “I’ll leave you two alone for a bit. You’ve got your own return tag, so take all the time you need.”

I barely noticed the silver light of the portal, nor the two ponies as they disappeared into the shimmering pool of magic. Like Cheese, I was lost in my own world of confusion, memory, and the overwhelming sense of not knowing what to do. Cheese hadn’t realised he was dead, common enough for those who died in unexpected circumstances I suppose, but why was my father here? And how was it he knew who I was?

“You can take that stupid lid off your head now,” father stated. His old self reasserted itself just the way it always had. “You look ridiculous.”

I pulled the magically infused helmet from my head, and with it the magic that made me as white as snow. Back came the old Fairlight, complete with grey coat, black and white mane, and my father’s eyes. “I’m surprised you knew it was me,” I said plainly. “We haven’t seen each other since I left for the academy.”

“No. No, we haven’t.” My father’s sardonic grin flashed across his face before the more recognisably deadpan expression reasserted itself. He always look at me this way; as if I was an annoyance to him, or worse… a disappointment.

“Dad...” I took a breath, “Why are you here? Are you…?”

“Dying?” He snorted ironically, “The body in the bed, the tubes, bags and machinery not enough of a clue for you?” In a flash he pulled back the covers and I nearly yelled in surprise. “Look at me!” he shouted suddenly. “Look at that… that thing in there!”

I couldn’t look away, despite how much I wanted to. My father, dad, was almost unrecognisable. He was… he was so thin, so horribly thin. His emaciated body was more akin to a thestral than a pony. Every bone was visible from his neck to his ribs, his skin hanging like sheets of wet pastry where once muscle and sinew had filled out this faded shadow of a stallion.

“What happened to you?” I breathed.

“Cancer,” dad said dismissively, “Came out of the blue one day. Before I knew it, I was in here.” He sniffed bitterly, “Not that I actually knew much about it. I was so bloody delirious I could have been on the moon for all I knew of what was going on.”

“I didn’t know...”

“Of course you didn’t,” dad replied. Mercifully he replaced the bed covers, but the image of my father’s emaciated body, the way his chest rose and fell with such agonising slowness, and the constant drip, drip, drip of the fluid in the bags… I would never forget that for as long as I… yeah. Right. “I could say the same,” he continued, “but where would that get us?”

I hung my head, “Nowhere.”

“Nowhere,” dad echoed. “Now then, are you going to get me out of this shit-hole or what?”

“Get you out of here?” I looked up in surprise.

Dad sighed, “I presume you do work for the herd, yes?” He pointed to the armour, “Your friend took Cheese and so I naturally assumed you could pick me up while you were at it. Or do you have to make a separate trip?”

“Dad...” I blinked, “You’re not dead.”

“Near enough!” He jerked a hoof towards the body, “For Luna’s sake, Fairlight, look at the state of me. I don’t deserve to fade away like this! Nopony does. This isn’t living, it’s dying by inches. Inches!” He locked eyes with me and I felt my blood run cold. “I want to die, Fairlight. I want to die now. Do you understand?”

“Dad, I can’t do anything,” I whispered.

“Ha! You mean you won’t.” Lamplight slumped back in his chair, “You always were spineless.”

My mane bristled. “How can you say that?!” I snapped back at him. “I worked my hooves to the bone to get into the academy and I made it to captain with my own dedication, sweat and blood.”

“And look where that got you,” my father observed sarcastically. “You turned on your own people, became a cold hearted assassin and ended up with your soul tainted by the spirit of a monster from ancient history.” He levelled a hoof at me, “You lost your wife and daughter because of your impulsiveness, and your own idiotic selfish stupidity!”

My hooves twitched in a rising fury as the icy ball of anger within me stirred, “I did everything I could to save my family, Dad,” I hissed. “Do you honestly think I wanted things to work out the way they did? Do you?” Dad shook his head as I continued, “Yes… yes, you do, don’t you? Celestia’s arse, dad, it’s no wonder you and mum broke up.”

“You leave her out of this!” he snapped suddenly. “Your mother had nothing to do with your failings, Fairlight. Nothing at all! Everything you did was because of your own bad decisions and lack of foresight.”

“Gods...” I shook my head in dismay, “Here I am, standing before you after all these years, and you don’t give a bucking damn do you? You never gave a toss about me when I was growing up, and it hasn’t even registered with you that I’m dead, has it? Or… or maybe it has. You just don’t give a shit, do you?”

“What do you expect me to say, Fairlight?” my father replied levelly. “Sorry you’re dead, Son? Hope you didn’t suffer too much?” He nickered quietly, “What good would that do? It’s a bit late for a ‘get well soon’ card.”

“It might demonstrate that you cared,” I offered ignoring the sarcasm. “It might show that I meant at least something to you.”

“Oh… shut up, Fairlight.” Lamplight sank back into the chair and looked away. “If you’re not going to collect my soul, then just… just piss off would you?”

I sat down on my haunches and stared at my father. He looked as young as I remembered him: fit, strong, and as uncaring as the northern wastes. “Dad?”

“What?” he snapped.

I took a breath, “Why did you and mum break up?”

Lamplight sighed, “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Wouldn’t I?”

“No!” My father’s eyes flicked towards me and then away once more. “We… We grew apart, that was all.”

“But you-”

“There’s no ‘buts’ about it, Fairlight,” my father cut in. “Unlike your world, there’s no mystery, no magical forces at work, or gods, or monsters, or anything from another bloody dimension trying buck things up for everypony just because they can.” He huffed noisily, “Your mother and I… we just… stopped loving each other.” Dad closed his eyes, “That was all. We just… stopped.”

“And you left as soon as I was able to support myself.” I didn’t want to believe it, but here it was as clear as day. “Mum never told me.”

“No, she wouldn’t have,” Lamplight said quietly. “Your mother and I didn’t want to hurt you, Fairlight. We already knew, the two of us, when you were very small that it was over between us. We were just biding our time until we were satisfied you didn’t need our support any more. And when that day came, I packed my bags and left.”

“And never looked back, eh?” I added.

Dad clucked his tongue, “Why would I? I sent money home each month until you graduated from the academy, and every year I would send a cheque to your mother towards the upkeep of her home. Even though I never heard anything from her, the cheques always got cashed. Always.”

I closed my eyes. “I didn’t know...”

“And why would you need to?” dad asked. “That was between your mother and I.”

“But you never turned up at the funeral!” I said suddenly. Memories of that awful day in the rain surged back from the pit of my soul. The pain, the unending emptiness and hopelessness of my world falling in on itself as I watched my mother being lowered into a hole in the ground. “Why, Dad? Why didn’t you come?”

“Because...” My father reached up and rubbed his eyes. “Because she didn’t want me there.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “What are talking about?” I asked. “Of course she-”

“SHE DIDN’T WANT ME THERE!” Lamplight span in his chair and roared at me, taking me completely off guard. “Don’t you get it, boy? Your mother wrote to me and said she was dying and didn’t want me at the funeral! How the hell do you think that made me feel? I knew our marriage was over, I knew I could never relight the fire that had once blazed so bright it illuminated all the heavens, but to have it there in front of me in black and white… I knew she didn’t love me any more, but to tell me she didn’t want me there was too much to bear. Far too much. Goddesses help me, Fairlight, she… I…” He grimaced as the memories gripped him in their merciless embrace, “I couldn’t even say goodbye! I had to sneak into the cemetery when everypony had gone like a damned thief in the night and beg her to forgive me. Forgive me! That damned mare broke me, Fairlight. She broke me as easily as breaking an egg, and she didn’t give a damn about it either.”

Silence fell in the room like a shroud of death. All that could be heard was the bleeping of the machines and the beating of my heart. I didn’t know what to say. What could I say? I’d always believed mum had loved dad unconditionally and that she’d died of a broken heart when he’d abandoned us both. But this? This didn’t make any sense! I had to know more.

“Dad? Why didn’t you keep in touch with me?” I asked. “When mum passed away, you could have.”

“You wouldn’t have wanted me to.” The old stallion shook his head sadly, “I wasn’t much of a father when you were growing up. And inside… I don’t think I ever should have been one. I only really ever thought about what I wanted in life, and everything else was… secondary to that. I saw you as an anchor, tying me to a place where I was neither welcome nor happy. And that bred something inside me that should never have been there: resentment, resentment so far down inside my heart it slowly ate away at me, day after day after day.” He leaned back and sighed softly, “I only wish it could have been different, Son. As Celestia is my witness, I do. But I am who I am, as your mother was who she was, and you are who you are. I’m sorry, Fairlight. I really, truly, am.”

My world cracked. Parts of my past, of my memories of childhood, showered down around me like hard rain. “Did you ever love us, Dad?” I swallowed past the lump in my throat. “Did we ever mean anything to you?”

“Of course you did.” Dad let out an ironic laugh. “How do you think you came into the world? You may not believe it but your mother and I were young once too you know, and we were hopelessly in love. To me she was the most beautiful mare I’d ever seen. Her figure was that of a goddess, her mane long and flowing like a river of liquid midnight. But it was her eyes that really gripped my heart, and they drew me in like a moth to a flame. I honestly thought we’d be together forever, but somewhere along the way… we got lost. Love… got lost. Whether it was because of my hours at work, something I’d done or not done… I don’t know. I’ve spent many restless nights asking myself that very question, but whatever the reason, our love faded away like the memory of a summer’s dream.” He sat up, “But don’t think that means I never loved you. I did. Of course I did. I was just never any good at expressing it, or breaking past that selfishness within myself.” He chuckled quietly, “I was proud of you though. I kept tabs on your progress through some of my contacts at work, and I knew what you were up to. Even now.”

“Even now...” I hung my head as a flood of emotion took me. “How did you know so much about me?” I asked. “About… you know.”

“The whole wendigo thing?” Dad shrugged, “Your mother was one. Did you know? Oh, the wendigo as a people didn’t really exist any more of course, but the bloodline is still there; grey coated unicorns, yellow eyes, black mane and tail. You know about that.” He raised an eyebrow, “Personally I didn’t until I joined the agency.”

“You joined the agency?!” My head flew up as his words sank in. “Why the hell wasn’t I told?!”

“Why would you be?” he asked curiously. “I worked on undercover work, and contact with a family member would have left you, your mother and me, open to being compromised. Warlock kept his word and didn’t tell you. And for that at least, I’m grateful.”

“Warlock?” My mane bristled. He was the bastard who tortured his own sister, Tingles. She’d never fully recovered from what that monster had done, and even worse, as far as I knew he was still working for the agency even now. “You keep bad company, Dad,” I rumbled.

“I did,” he admitted. “Warlock was a good agent, but his methods were… ‘questionable’ at times.” Dad fixed me with a look, “As were yours too, I believe.”

“I got the job done.”

He smiled with a nod, “You did.”

Silence fell once again, the two of us lost in our own worlds of reflection and memory. I didn’t know what else to say to him. What else was there, really, when you got right down to it? I’d always known mum and dad’s relationship had been on the rocks when I was younger, but I’d just blanked it out. After all, if I didn’t think about it, if I ignored it, then it couldn’t be real, right? Yeah…

A click behind me, and the sound of the door opening. I instinctively moved to allow the nurse to come into the room unhindered. She would have walked round me, but politeness, even when you were dead, cost nothing. Dad and I watched her as she quietly changed one of the drips and tucked his pathetic body back in under the covers.

“She’s a good one,” dad observed pleasantly. “Looks after her patients diligently, always professional and respectful, but above all that, she cares. I mean, really cares.”

I nodded, smiling as the nurse went about her duties completely oblivious to the two of us. “I’m not sure about the way she warms the thermometer in her mouth though,” I observed quietly. I knew what Meadow would have said about that!

Dad shrugged, “It’s not the only thing she’s had in her mouth.”

“Eh?” What he’d said suddenly slammed into my consciousness with all the subtlety of a derailed freight train, “Bloody hell, dad!”

“What?” he chuckled. “I wasn’t always like this you know.” He jerked a hoof towards the lump in the bed. “Love Heart and I had something going when I was younger. Long after I’d broken up with your mother of course.” He shrugged, “It never lasted. Her career and mine just kept getting in the way of one another. It never would have worked out, we were both far too stubborn for our own good.” Dad chuckled, “But by the gods, it was worth it!”

I stared at the nurse. She was late middle aged I would say, white coated with pink hair that was just starting to go grey here and there. I’d seen a near mirror image of her before. Ponyville?

“Her sister works in Ponyville,” Dad answered as though reading my mind. “Red Heart.”

“Figures.” I felt a laugh starting to well within me, “Anypony in your life now, Dad?”

“Now?” dad snorted. “Looking like that? Ha! Gods, no.” He shook his head, “Had plenty of mares over the years, but it was only ever superficial. A bit like your old father, eh?”

I shook my head slowly, “I never thought-”

“What? That I didn’t like mares?” Dad asked. “Not like you then! Goddesses in their heaven, how many is it now? Two? Three?”

“Three,” I replied. I’d ceased being surprised by how much he knew about my life. If he’d been in the agency he probably knew my inside leg measurements too.

“Bloody hell, Fairlight, I’ve heard of ‘a bit on the side’, but that’s ridiculous.” Dad’s laughter echoed around the room totally unheard by the nurse. “You do know what you’ve let yourself in for, don’t you?”

My shoulders slumped, “I know...”

“And that bony one, the thestral...” Dad shivered, “Now that’s just weird! That’s like banging a corpse. Luna’s lugs, Fairlight, how could you ever-”

“Dad! For the goddess’s sake, please!”

“Ah, you’re no fun.” He sat back in his chair and I watched his eyes following the nurse out. The door closed behind her with a loud click. “Guess that’s that then,” he observed. “I suppose I’ll have to just hang on here until I pop off ‘au naturale’, eh?”

I cleared my throat. “Do you… do you have any idea how long?”

“I thought you’d know that!” Dad remarked. “What with you being the grim reaper now.”

“Oh, for…” I rolled my eyes, “I’m not the grim bloody reaper!”

“I know that, you idiot.” Dad chuckled quietly, “We know all about the herd and the guard. The agency is run by the princesses after all.” He raised an eyebrow at me, “Soul hunters, right?” I nodded in replied. “Good choice,” Dad said approvingly. “Pop put you up to it, did he?”

“How did-?” I shook my head, “No, don’t tell me. I already know!”

Dad’s smile was infectious, “Of course you do.” He shuddered, “Bugger me, I feel like somepony’s walked over my grave. Pardon the expression.” Dad blinked at me, “Did you do something?”

“Me?” I asked in surprise. “Like what?”

“I saw your magic glowing there for a minute.”

“Just having a scratch, see?” My magic glowed again.

“There it is again!” Dad got up and peered under the bed, “I definitely heard something click.”

“Did you?” I answered innocently.

The door to the room opened suddenly and a small troop of nurses and a doctor hurried in.

Dad stood up and looked me in the eyes, his own brown ones a mirror of my own. “You know patricide used to be a capital offence, right?”

“Was it?” I shrugged innocently. “Fancy that.” I lifted the portal device in my hoof and gently moved dad out of the way as the silver light began to build.

Lamplight glanced over his shoulder, “Fairlight, I don’t want her to be blamed. You didn’t-?”

“I plugged it back in, Dad,” I assured him. “Come on, let’s get the hell out of here. It’s time you came home.”

My father’s hoof on my shoulder stopped me. A pair of brown eyes looked into mine and I saw, I think for first time in my life, something I never thought I would see from father. Fear.

“What…” He swallowed, “What happens next?”

“I thought you knew?” I answered honestly. “You know who the soul hunters are, right?”

“I know, it’s just…” Lamplight closed his eyes and shuddered, “What if I… hadn’t been good?” He looked away and I caught a glimpse of a shining droplet falling from his cheek. “I haven’t done right by you, or your mother. I was a bad father, an even worse parent. I was selfish, thoughtless, and-”

“Dad?”

Lamplight closed his eyes, “Yes?”

“None of that matters now,” I gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “If you weren’t going to the herd you’d already know, trust me. We’re going home now. It’s a whole new start for you, as it was for me.” He looked back at me, but the hesitation was still there. “Dad,” I said gently, “you and mum brought me into the world, and that’s pretty damned special in my book. And I may not have said it very often, but… I love you. Both of you. Now, your whole life can start afresh in the herd and you can do or be anything you want to be. Anything at all.”

His ears pricked up. “Is it as good as they say?” Dad asked.

I winked at him, “You’ll look as young as you were in your prime. And trust me, there are mares aplenty there. You know, I may even introduce you to a few I know.”

Dad’s expression of concern melted like butter, his smile adding to my own. “Son, if I can do it in the mortal world, I can sure as hell do it in the afterlife.” He suddenly grabbed my head and scrubbed my mane, “Come on you, get that silly lid back on your bonce and let’s get the herd out of here. This place stinks.”

Without another word nor backward glance, the two of us, father and son, confidently entered the silver light of the portal. For me it was another day at the office, but for my dad, the stallion who had helped raise me to be the stallion I am today, it was a fresh start in a new world full of infinite possibilities.

Author's Note

This chapter is dedicated to the memory of my late father.

Chapter Sixteen - Deus Vult

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

DEUS VULT

“He sleeps.”

“And for that I am relieved beyond words. However, I still cannot believe you brought him back here. You know what these things are capable of.”

“You think he could challenge one of us?”

“Of course not. He would not dare.”

“Truly? I wonder at that. I understand your reservations, love of my life, but this one could prove to be of particular use in the coming change of ages. History will soon be turning the page of a new era and we must be ready for it when it comes. Besides, I confess to being somewhat fascinated with this one. I would like to see more of what Fate has in store for our wayward child.”

“Your wayward child. You know how I feel about these kinds of creature.”

“My child? How quickly you forget, my love. Was he not made in your image?”

“He was. Before he became corrupted.”

“And that corruption has proven itself to be most… ‘entertaining’. Would you not agree?”

“Humph!”

“Shh! He is stirring. Come, let us leave and allow our child to take the first step on his new journey.”

“Must you always be so dramatic?”

“It is why you love me so much, peach of my orchard...”

I awoke to absolute silence, alone in my cell. If you could call it that. To my surprise I hadn’t been tortured, beaten, abused, nor mistreated in any form. They had in fact treated me with a level of decency that I never would have expected in the mortal realm. Even the magnanimous Princess Celestia’s cells beneath the palace in Canterlot, as clean as they had been, were unmistakably the kind of place a criminal would expect to be dumped prior to sentencing. Here, alone in this room of purest white, I sat on a bed of clean white linen with the smell of fresh lemons wafting in through the open window while the breeze played with the delicately embroidered curtains. In some respects this was harder on me than the rougher alternatives of filthy straw, rats, and stench. I lifted my head and stared around myself in amazement. It was so clean! If there was a word to describe it, it would be… ‘purity’. I nodded to myself, satisfied with my decision. Yes, ‘purity’ indeed. And yet here I was, the veritable dark stain on the otherwise flawless perfection of the artists blank canvas that visually ruined the piece completely. I couldn’t remember how I’d got here, other than the feeling of an impact, hard and heavy against my entire body. No pain though. No… no pain at all. Interesting. I reached up and felt my head, looking for any signs of trauma. Ah… a horn lock. What a surprise.

“You’re awake.”

I rubbed my head and flopped back on the bed, “Apparently.”

“You are unharmed?” the voice asked. It was a male by the sounds of it.

Tentatively I ran my hooves over my body. No evidence of lesions, breaks, burns, or any of the usual injuries I’d become used to when I was alive. Unfortunately being dead hadn’t been much of an improvement over my ability to experience unpleasant situations, as I’d discovered virtually from day one.

“Apparently,” I replied.

“You’re not feeling talkative I see,” the voice observed. “I should leave you.”

I rubbed my eyes and tried to focus on the stallion sitting across from me on the large wooden chair. He was bathed in the bright light from window, but I was just about able to make out the stallion’s red coat and relatively short stature. He had a pair of the most intensely piercing green eyes I had ever seen, and a short silver mane shot through with streaks of grey. His cutie mark was hidden beneath his navy blue cloak which was held in place with a simple silvered fibula. Upon his head he wore a tricorn hat trimmed in silver braid, and his overcoat was a heavy looking garment of blues and silvers, making him look like he’d dropped straight out of the pages of a history book. But if he left, if I let him walk away, then the silence would be absolute. The loneliness and emptiness waiting to swallow me whole would snatch me away into the dark pit of despair once again, and I had promised myself I would fight. Gods know how, but I had to. As hard as it was, and as much as I wanted to surrender to the helplessness of my plight… I didn’t want to be alone.

“Wait. Please.” I held out a hoof to him, “I’m sorry, I… I’m a little… Oh, gods, what the hell is going on? What is this place?”

“I can answer one of those questions, Sir,” the stallion replied pleasantly. “You are in the royal palace, in a room kept for guests who have… problems. Like you.”

“Ah.” I flopped back on the pillow with a sarcastic laugh. “Oh, I’m a problem alright. Every ponies bloody problem apparently.”

The stallion smiled, “A young lady once told me that a problem is only a solution waiting to be deciphered.”

“Very profound,” I groaned. “A hopeless optimist your young lady by the sounds of it.”

“Perhaps, Sir.” The stallion cocked his head on one side, watching me with those peculiar eyes of his, “Although I have always been of the belief that as much as a lady may feel inclined to proffer her opinions as factually correct, a stallion is under no obligation to either agree with nor act upon said opinion. Naturally, one would balance this belief by keeping ones own opinion on the subject to oneself.”

“If you value your knackers,” I smiled.

“Naturally, Sir.”

There was something about this stallion that niggled at the back of my mind, “You remind me of somepony.” I pushed myself upright once more and rubbed my eyes. Why the hell couldn’t I concentrate on anything? “Forgive me,” I apologised to my cell mate, “my mind is a little unfocussed at the minute.”

“The effects of the hornlock I’m afraid,” the stallion observed. “Perhaps a drink will help perk sir’s spirits?” The stallion reached into the cupboard beside him. A cupboard that hadn’t been there a moment before. Was I imagining things? “A gin and tonic should be just the ticket. Ice and a slice, Sir?”

“Ice…? Oh, er, yes please.” I squeezed my eyes shut and ran my hoof over the hornlock. “Damned thing...”

“I understand the hornlock is there because of your spirit derived magics, Master Fairlight, sir.” The stallion floated the glass over to me and clucked his tongue when I fumbled for it with my hooves. “Ah, forgive me. It’s easy to overlook the way the lock removes a unicorn’s telekinetic powers as well as any more complex spell craft.”

“All my magic...” I sighed, “Bloody marvellous.” Carefully I tried again, taking the drink up in my hooves and trying not to crack the delicate glass. “I’m a bit out of practice. More used to swords and spears than glassware these days.”

“Being a little rough around the edges is a stallion’s prerogative, Sir.” The stallion smiled thinly, “Any gem can be polished until it shines as brightly as the sun.”

“Or as keenly as a blade,” I observed.

The red stallion sat and watched me quietly as I took another sip of my gin and tonic. His green eyes were certainly familiar, and it was driving me mad what his-

“Jelly Bean, Sir.”

“What?” I nearly dropped the glass, “Good grief, of course! How the hell could I forget that?” I felt a wave of relief flush through me from nose to tail. A familiar face was just what I needed. But what in Equestria was he doing here? I leaned towards him, “Gods, J.B, what are you in for?”

“In for?” He looked confused for a second before lifting a hoof up to dispel my misunderstanding. “Oh! You misunderstand, Sir. I am here at the palace’s behest to perform my barbering duties. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“And you’re in a criminal’s cell with scissors and all the other tools your trade, yes?” I lifted an eyebrow quizzically, “Doesn’t that concern you in any way, my friend?”

“That all depends on you, Sir,” Jelly Bean replied pleasantly. “Do you intend to use me as a means to escape? Perhaps as a hostage as you fight your way through the palace?”

“It’s a possibility,” I replied a little more sarcastically than I intended. I shrugged it off, “If I ruminate on the possibilities, it’s certainly one of the options I have open to me.”

“And what would you do then?” the red stallion asked.

I finished my drink with a final sip, savouring the tangy taste of the gin, tonic, and fresh lime. “I have no idea.” Letting out a long sigh, I flopped back on the bed and held my hoof up to the sunlight. “Maybe I’ll just wait here and see what happens next.”

“They may take away your freedom,” Jelly Bean noted unnecessarily. He seemed confused by relaxed demeanour so I decided to oblige him.

“Nah, freedom’s overrated as far as I’m concerned, J.B,” I said with a sardonic grin. “With it comes the freedom to make the wrong choices, the freedom to hurt those you love, and the freedom to destroy your own life. Or give others the means to do it for you. Nope,” I examined my hoof, turning it this way and that, noting how the sunlight emphasised the faint variations in the hoof wall. “Sometimes it’s better to have somepony do all of that for you so you can just plod along for the rest of your days doing as you’re told without having to worry about whether you made the right choices in your life.”

“A pragmatic solution, Sir,” Jelly Bean nodded. “However, and forgive me for questioning your position, would this not remove an individual’s ability to plan, and thusly alter the course of their life to one that was more conducive to a productive and worthwhile existence? One would become little more than a slave in all but name, bound by their own subservience to another and devoid of all passion, self determination, and motivation.”

“It’s called being married,” I snorted.

“Married?” Jelly Bean frowned and then abruptly erupted in a deep throaty laugh that was so deep and resonant it made the ice tinkle in my glass. “I believe I can relate, Sir. I believe I can.”

“You’re married?” I asked.

The red stallion nodded, “I am, and I have two beautiful daughters as a result.”

I snorted, feeling a smile tugging at my lips, “Sheesh, three females! A bit out numbered there, J.B.”

“True. True.” He peered up at me from under his hat as he rummaged in his bag, “And you sir?”

“Two youngsters. A colt and a filly.” I laughed mirthlessly, “One’s here in the herd with her mum and my boy’s in the mortal realm with his mother and...” I sighed, “My other mare.”

“Ah. I was of the understanding you have a small herd, Sir.” Jelly Bean smiled gently, “Am I correct?”

I nodded. I don’t why I always told ponies about my ‘other mares’, but my habit of letting my guard down around those I felt comfortable with had never quite left me. “Don’t ask me how it happened, J.B,” I said, “I’m not even sure myself.”

“Rather like my marriage then.” Jelly Bean’s monotone voice was like the echo of my own heart, and the two of us filled the small room with our laughter.

Despite my resignation at the situation I found myself in, I actually felt myself beginning to relax. I was quite enjoying the company of the enigmatic barber, before he announced, “I believe you’re in need of a trim, Sir.” He nodded to himself as he pulled his pannier open, “Your mane and tails have grown out somewhat since last we met, and your hoof needs attention.”

“My hoof?” I stared at the barely noticeable crack in my fore hoof. “How in Equestria did you see that?!”

“A trained eye can see much more than some may expect, Sir.” The red stallion pulled his chair over and set up a portable hoof stand. Moments later, the filing and sanding began.

“You haven’t asked why I’m in here,” I said conversationally. “Aren’t you curious, or have they already told you?”

Jelly Bean blew the dust from my hoof and inspected it. Carefully, he replaced his file with a finer toothed one and began to work the edges. “I believe sir has been accused of bringing a child of the people into the land of the eternal herd. An act that has caused some consternation amongst the senior council.”

He was tactful, I’ll give him that. “I don’t know about the council,” I said honestly, “but yes… I did bring a thestral foal into the herd.”

“May I ask why, Sir?” Jelly Bean asked. “Such a thing is unusual, is it not?”

“So is murder, J.B.” I watched as the stallion put down his file and brought out a pad wrapped in fine sanding paper. “I spent most of my adult life protecting those who couldn’t protect themselves. It didn’t matter whether they were rich, poor, mares, stallions, colts or fillies. It was a job that I took a pride in, and because… it was the right thing to do.” I took a breath. “I may be many things,” I continued, “but a murderer, I am not.”

“I understand, Sir.”

“Ha! Then you’re a better stallion than I, J.B.”

“Sir?”

“I’m a fool.” I closed my eyes, focussing on the sanding and polishing and the smell of hoof oil, “I always have been. I joined the watch which put my family at risk and they paid the price for that foolishness. And what do I do when I arrive in the herd? I join the royal bloody guard to ‘help’ recover lost souls.”

“A noble aim, Sir,” Jelly Bean offered.

“It is,” I agreed. “But they conveniently omitted to tell me that I would be murdering children as part of my job role.” I huffed bitterly, “I guess it was under the heading of ‘Any other duties as required’. Bastards.”

The stallion continued his work. “Did they not explain their reasons to you, Sir?”

“Oh, the lieutenant gave me some half-arsed explanation alright, but he didn’t really know himself. ‘Orders from the royal family’ or some such crap.” I laughed bitterly, “I’m sure if you asked a thestral why the Legion had invaded Equestria he would have given a similar reason.”

“Soldiers follow orders,” Jelly Bean reasoned. “To refuse is not always an option when one considers the ramifications for refusal.”

“I know that,” I sighed. “But even a soldier would have to question the morality of slaughtering an innocent simply because of a decree from the ivory bloody tower. At least thestrals have a code of honour, even if it is about as understandable as knitting fog.”

Jelly Bean paused, “You seem to know more about thestrals than most ponies. Do they not frighten you?”

“Hardly!” I laughed. “I’ve lived with them. For a while anyway. As warlike as they are they’re not a race of ruthless murderers who go around killing everything in sight as history would have us believe. As I said, they have a strong sense of honour and they’ve pulled my fat out of the fire on more than one occasion.” I lifted my other hoof for Jelly Bean to work on, “They’re strange to look at when you’re not used to them, but they have a particular grace and beauty about them which I’ve learned to appreciate. Now I see them the same way as a I do any other equine. All living things have value, J.B.”

Jelly Bean nodded, “Forgive me for saying, Sir, but would I be right in assuming you have an affinity with these… thestrals?”

“An affinity?” I pondered that for a moment, “I suppose you could call it that, but no more than any other pony who treated them as an equal. I’ll admit there’s a lot of thestrals who look down on ‘Celestians’ as they like to call us, and treat us with suspicion and even distrust, but are we really any better? Thestrals have been all but wiped from our history books, and the few that remain refer to them as these dragon-like monsters that eat babies and burn families alive in their homes.”

Jelly Bean nodded slowly before motioning to me to flip over so he could work on my hind hooves, “The thestrals are aware of the foals being killed are they, Sir?”

“Oh, yes,” I nodded grimly. I could feel my forelegs tensing as the memory of Glimmer’s comment about Shade replayed through my mind. “Some of them, the ones the royal guard haven’t butchered, arrive in the Darklands only to be killed by their own people.”

“But not all?” the barber asked.

“No.” Shadow’s face floated into my memory, her red eyes burning with that intense inner light that warmed my heart every time I saw her. “No. Not all. But the loss of even one child is another nail in the coffin of the thestral people. The irony is that they’re helping bring about their own extinction.”

“Perhaps some believe that it is simply a part of the natural order of the universe,” my cell mate offered. “Thestrals walked the land long before ponies came into being. Maybe their time has merely passed, and what we are seeing is the concluding days of a process begun long ago.”

I sat up, snatching my hoof away and locked eyes with him, “Does that mean they should be treated the way they are?” I could feel my anger smouldering deep down, “Snatched from their home land, dumped into a world of eternal twilight, and then to have their children butchered? Gods in their bucking heaven, J.B, what sort of deities have we got with their obsession with genocide? Celestia massacred the wendigo, and her father, if the thestral legends are true, wiped the very race he created himself from the face of the bloody planet! Oh sure, he made a new home for them. How bloody magnanimous of him! Yeah, shove them into some lethal shithole and let them die out so he doesn’t have to concern himself with them any more. Bugger me, it’s like some foal with a hamster who loses interest, gets fed up feeding the thing, and ends up letting it starve to death. Then the parents come in, chuck the body down the lavvy and it’s ‘That’s okay dear, we’ll go and buy you another one tomorrow. Only this time, it’ll be more like what you ‘really’ want, okay?’” I took a breath and tried to rein my bitterness in. Jelly Bean didn’t want to hear this, and it wasn’t his fault that the world was the bucked up mess it was. “I’m sorry, J.B, I shouldn’t be going on like this to you. You’ve only ever shown me kindness, and now I’m ranting like some drunkard on a Friday night.”

“There’s nothing to apologise for, Sir,” he replied. “The workings of the universe are beyond the comprehension of even the most open minded amongst us.”

“Huh, you got that right.” I got down off the bed and Jelly Bean began to smooth out my coat with a stiff brush. “You know what I can’t understand about all of this, J.B? It’s that the gods allow this. They permit, no… sanction foals to be killed and hide it all away from the public. Oh sure, they want to ‘protect’ ponies from the ‘trauma’ of seeing scary looking thestral foals once in a blue moon, but what about the pain it’s causing the ponies who have to do their dirty work for them? What sort of damage does the killing of a child do to a fellows mind? Bloody hell, it’s no wonder they’re allowed to get roaring drunk in the barracks. It’s to numb them from the horror of what they’re doing!” I rammed my forehooves into the bed. My eyes were stinging, my heart hammering hard in my chest. “We haven’t got gods in charge of our world, J.B, we’ve got monsters. Monsters far worse than any wendigo or thestral.”

The red stallion paused. I could tell from his eyes that I’d gone too far, and doubtless angered the poor fellow. Many ponies worshipped the gods and goddesses both in the herd and the mortal ream, and who could blame them? You couldn’t go five minutes in Equestria without falling over pictures or statues of Celestia or Luna. Their faces were on the currency for bucks sake! It was the same here in the herd, although the representations of the royal sisters parents were probably a bit more, shall we say, loosely defined? I’d only ever seen them at a distance and even then you’d need binoculars to make out anything other than the fact they had four legs, a head, and that was about your lot. Meadow had explained that this was to add to the whole ‘mythos and majesty of the divines’. Personally I thought it was a lot of bunkum. What, the gods are worried in case somepony gazes upon their glorious countenance and turns to stone or something? What a load of bollocks!

“I see.” Jelly Bean hung his head a moment before continuing with his work on my coat. “And yet these ‘monsters’ have gifted their children with a home where they can have everything they want and be able to live in safety for as long as they wish.”

I smiled grimly, hanging my head in shame, “I’ve offended you.”

The red stallion began the long process of snipping away the feathering on my legs, “No, Sir. I merely question how the gods could be considered monsters when they love their children.”

“You’re right, J.B,” I said softly. “The eternal herd truly is the heaven promised to us all, and for that I am as grateful and humble as the next pony. And what parent wouldn’t want their children to have a future of happiness and love, free from suffering and pain?” I closed my eyes, “I only wish they had enough of that love to share with all of their children. Pony, wendigo, or thestral… After all, we’re all the children of the gods.”

Jelly Bean said nothing. I stood and left him to his work, listening to the snip, snip, snip of the scissors. Normally when I went to the barbers the pony cutting my mane or trimming my coat never shut up. When I was a watchstallion they were a veritable mine of information, and one I used regularly during my investigations. To have my coat trimmed by a barber who had gone utterly silent was unsettling to say the least. We all knew about the murders on Saddle Row by the razor wielding lunatic who stuffed ponies into pies. The sick swine used to adorn the top of the pie with a pastry representation of his victim’s cutie mark too. It was only when the wife of a missing stallion happened upon the bakery and bought a pie for her griffin friend that she recognised the cutie mark on the top, and we got the break we needed. After that, the pie shop, and the barbers, went out of business. Permanently. That said, I didn’t seriously think old Jelly Bean here was likely to slit my throat and stuff me into a pie filling any time soon, but upsetting him any more than I already had was not something I should be doing. And so, I did what I probably should have done in the first place; I kept my big mouth shut.

Well, I’ll say one thing, it certainly brought back memories. The first time I’d met J.B had been in the local pub where I’d sat and had a pint or two with a crazy mare, a dimwitted love struck stallion who later tried to kill me, and me with my head stuck down the toilet. My head had been a mess to begin with anyway. All those disjointed memories, the endless misery of doctors poking me while shrinks tried to work out how mad I had become. What I had become in actual fact was quite simple: I was miserable. I was a broken stallion whose home life was crumbling down around his ears and I was so far gone I never even noticed what it was doing to my marriage until it was too late. Oh, I’d known things weren’t going well between us of course, I’d have had to have been blind to have missed those, but I’d always thought that we could fix anything together if we tried hard enough. We’d been through hell together, Meadow and I. But this… This couldn’t be fixed. No magic in the world, nor the power of the gods themselves, could mend a broken heart. Or replace the love that had bloomed so brightly only to wither and die in the land where dreams were made.

“Have you given up?”

I came round to myself with a start, “I’m sorry?”

“I asked if you had given up, Sir.” The red stallion carefully slipped his scissors back into the roll of tools and looked up at me, “You realise what I am asking you, don’t you?”

I blinked in surprise, “I’m… not sure I do.”

The last strap was tightened on the roll and the whole placed back into the large bag as Jelly Bean spoke, “Life is a struggle, Sir. You know this, probably better than most. Ponies strive every day to realise the many desires we all have in our hearts, be it wealth, fame, love, happiness - it doesn’t matter. And yet even though they may accomplish so much in the short time they have in the mortal realm, when their life has run its course all those wondrous things will be left behind as no more than a silent echo of who they once were. It is here, in the light of the eternal herd, where everypony can start anew. A fresh page in a new diary of possibilities.” Jelly Bean hefted his bag onto his back. “You have seen things no pony should ever had witnessed or experienced. And yet despite all odds you have fought back and now stand at the fork in the road. All that remains is to decide which path to take.”

“What path?” I gave myself a shake, dislodging some of the loose hair from my coat trimming. “I don’t have a path, Jelly Bean,” I pointed out to my red coated friend. “I’m in a cell in the royal palace. A very nicely appointed cell, true, but a cell nonetheless. And as you know yourself, I have royally pissed off the very ponies who could snuff out my existence with little more than a thought. I’m grateful for the work you’ve done for me, my friend, but unfortunately all you’ve done is make me look nice for my executioner. Live fast, die young, and leave a beautiful corpse, eh?”

Jelly Bean closed his eyes and nodded knowingly, “Tell me, Sir; if you were to leave here now, what would you choose?”

“Choose?” I guffawed. “I would ‘choose’ to get the buck out of here and try to stop a certain somepony from causing suffering to others because of some grand illusion he has of a utopian future.”

“You would not choose the king’s justice?” J.B asked.

“King’s justice? Is that what they call it here, is it? I think we both know where that would lead!” I remarked sarcastically. “Being reborn with your mind a clean slate may be tempting to some of the old buggers who’ve been here since time began, but I’m not that far gone yet I don’t think.”

The red stallion smiled, “I’m pleased to hear it.” Slowly he adjusted his packs and reached for the door. “Sir? One last thing.”

I flicked my tail, pleased with the way it flowed. “Yes?”

“Shadow.” Jelly Bean’s expression gave me pause. He looked sad… lost even. “Do you love her?”

“Shadow?” I didn’t recall mentioning her to him, but considering the state I’d been in when we’d first met I must have done. “Yes,” I replied honestly, “I love her. More than I could ever express in words.”

“She is a thestral, yes?”

“With the fiery eyes, bony frame, teeth that could bite through steel girders and the whole lightning thing?” I grinned, “What’s not to like in a girl with all those homely attributes?” I waved a hoof dismissively, “It doesn’t matter now anyway. She’s in the mortal realm, I’m dead, and my ‘future’ is looking like it will be coming to a rather abrupt halt all too soon.”

Jelly Bean frowned in what appeared to be genuine surprise, “Why is that?”

I had a double take. He couldn’t be that stupid, could he? “Why-? Hello? I’m in a cell?”

The stallion’s expression became as still as a mill pond. I wasn’t sure what was going on behind those bright green eyes, but I’d always had the impression this former architect of the empire was more than he appeared. “Perhaps the cell is only in your own mind, Sir,” he suggested.

I rubbed my horn a little irritably, catching that damned hornlock in the process, “I’m sorry, J.B, but what the hell are you talking about?”

The red stallion stood to one side and with a flick of his hoof, pushed the door open, revealing the light beyond. “The way ahead was always yours to take, Fairlight. The path you choose now will be the one that determines your fate, and that of those whom you hold most dear. You hold the key to the destiny of far more than you could ever realise.”

“J.B, I’m not into riddles,” I huffed, “can’t you-” I looked up in amazement. At first I thought I was seeing things, but no… no, the door really was open! Hurriedly I stood up and made for the opening to freedom, to escape from this room of bright sunlight, birds singing, and… safety. Safety? Jelly Bean watched me like some large red cat dozing in the summer sunlight on the windowsill. I looked away and stared through the door into a scene that made my blood chill. It was a forest, but not one like any I had ever seen before. Rather than trees of wood as one would find in Equestria, or the crystal trees of the Darklands, here was a dense mass of tall thin green stems that looked more like poles that trunks. Long thin leaves shushed in the breeze high above as strange birds called to one another in the distance. Throughout it all the loud buzzing sound of cicadas permeated the forest, suggestive of a land of heat and humidity. Llamalia? Certainly not Yak Yakistan. I just stood there, my legs frozen.

“You stand on the threshold, Fairlight,” Jelly Bean intoned. “Stay here and accept the judgement of the king, or step into the unknown.” His eyes sparkled like emeralds. “It is time, my son, for you to choose.”

“Choose...” I looked back over my shoulder into those bottomless green eyes. “Who are you?”

“A guide,” Jelly Bean smiled softly. “But I can only take you so far on your journey. It is you alone who can make the choices that will determine your future. Nopony else.”

“The future of a dead pony,” I whispered half to myself.

“Death is not the end, Fairlight,” Jelly Bean said confidently. He raised an eyebrow knowingly, “Nor can it be. Without death there can be no birth, and without birth there can be no hope. Hope is what drives the wheels of existence, and what has sustained you throughout all your trials.”

Hope. Yeah, sure. I was always one step away from teetering into the black pit of depression and utter despair, constantly fighting against that part of me that wanted nothing more than to just give up and go to sleep. I wanted to continue on, I really did. But it was so hard! Gods, all I’d ever wanted was to be left alone to live my life in peace with the ones I loved. And it had been taken away from me. It had all been taken away from me. What was left of all those innocent hopes and dreams now? Nothing. Nothing but emptiness and the bottomless pit of soul destroying despair. I had been left here, standing alone amongst the still warm ashes and dust of what had once been the budding promise of a bright future for my beloved Meadow and I. With a foal on the way and a good career that paid just enough to help pay my way in life, our future together should have been assured. But no… no, it all had to be stopped, taken away, and destroyed. And why? Because I had dared… dared to have a dream. And worse… I’d been happy.

A hoof on my shoulder made me look up into the stallion’s eyes. “You can be again, Fairlight,” Jelly Bean said softly as if reading my mind. “Never give up hope, and never stop believing in your own self worth. You are so much more than you think you are. You only need tap into your potential to let the river flow freely once more.”

“I don’t think I’ll be letting any river flow with this thing on my head,” I huffed, tapping the hornlock. “They need a particular magical key to remove and-”

Jelly Bean’s hoof stopped me mid-sentence, “I’ll show you a trick.” He gave me a wink, “Cover your nose with your hooves, close your mouth...”

With nothing to lose I did as he said. “Mmhmm?”

“And… Blow.”

It was the sort of thing you did when you tried to stifle a sneeze in public. I could feel my ears pop, along with that peculiar hissing sound you get when you have water in your ears. What in Equestria this was supposed to do was beyond me. In fact it struck me as the kind of trick I can imagine a foal- “Oh, my gods!” I gasped aloud as the feeling of pressure abruptly gave way to a sensation of release, followed almost immediately afterwards by the metallic tinkle of the hornlock dropping to the floor. “How did you…?” I shook my head in amazement. “All this time, that’s all I needed to do?!”

“There’s a trick to everything, my son,” Jelly Bean chuckled throatily. “Now, come along, you have to choose.”

“Stay or go, huh?” I stared at the room, the door, and the peculiar forest beyond. Like I had a choice, eh? Ha! I’d made my mind up as soon as the door opened. Carefully I took a step forward as a strange sense of weight on my back pulled me up short. I looked round. “My stuff!” I exclaimed. Dear gods, it was all there! My barding, my packs, even my scythe, crossbow and dagger! “How the hell did you do that?” I gasped.

“Oh, just a little magic is all,” Jelly Bean winked cheekily.

I smiled as I turned once more for the door and paused, “Can I ask one last thing before I go?”

“Of course.”

I took a deep breath. It was worth a try… “Will the killing of foals stop?” I asked.

The red stallion stood as still as a statue, his voice taking on a harder tone than I’d heard from him before. He only said one word, “Yes.”

I closed my eyes and smiled, “Thank you.” A flush of relief tingled through body from my hooves to my ears. Hope… Maybe it really did exist after all. I gave myself a hard shake and tossed my mane. “Take care, J.B.”

“Take care, Sir.” The strange stallion watched me quietly, the sparkling light from the forest reflected in his fathomless eyes. “The blessings of the gods go with you.”

Somehow, I felt he actually meant it too. And lets face it, a little divine assistance never hurt anypony.

*******************

Bamboo. Interesting stuff, and hard too. I hadn’t recognised it at first as it doesn’t grow anywhere in Equestria so far as I knew. And in any case the bamboo I had seen was yellow, not green. Maybe it turned yellow when harvested, who could say? I’d seen it made into furniture such as chairs and fancy shelves and so forth a few times. One of the shops on twenty fifth avenue sold exotic furniture, and bamboo featured prominently. As did the prices! Bloody hell, I’d fancied buying a few pieces for home until I found out that the ‘stock code’ on the label was actually the selling price. A museum I visited years ago when I’d first moved to Manehattan had spears that had been made in bamboo too, and one of the old veterans who worked there had told me that it was the best material for making them. It was strong yet flexible, and it didn’t shatter on impact like wood was prone to do. Gods, I can still remember the way the mare who was stood beside us at the time turned pale as the old fellow talked about fighting monsters on the northern border. Her colts on the other hoof were absolutely fascinated and hung on the old soldier’s every word, until mum ushered them away like some protective mother hen. I got the distinct impression that the old veteran didn’t have many opportunities to tell his tale, and I wasn’t surprised either. Stories of war, fighting and death were not exactly prevalent in equestrian society, and I felt honoured to have spoken to him when I did. As fate would have it, the next time I called in to the museum one of the staff recognised me and said the veteran had been taken ill and had to be rushed to the general hospital. That night after work I’d made a point of stopping by to see him, but I was too late. Meadow had been on duty that night and told me the old fellow had passed away shortly after arriving. But the saddest part for me was the sheer loneliness of the whole scene. I will never forget the peculiar silence of that hospital room with the unmoving shape under the covers that I’d only been speaking to a scant few days before. It felt unnaturally cold. Empty. And that never really left me. There were no visitors to mourn him either. No family. Nopony at all to say goodbye. Meadow told me that he had died with no known relatives, and the only ones who knew he was there other than his co-workers from the museum were his old army buddies. I went to the funeral, as did the staff from his old workplace who’d closed up for the day out of respect. There was a hoofful of veterans there who looked as old as the hills, and watching them and their silent expressions as they watched the cremated remains of their comrade being lowered into the ground, reminded me of the fragility of life more than anything I’d ever experienced previously. Sudden deaths were one thing when you worked in the watch. I didn’t know who they were. I hadn’t met them nor talked to them. They were, for all intents and purposes, just an empty husk that had once been a life. To me it was work, and I kept that as separate from my personal life as I could. But this old soldier, this veteran, was different. We’d talked, joked together, and I had looked forward to going back to hear more of his experiences and stories of life on the frontier. And then, as quickly as I had met him, he’d gone. Ridge Tile was his name. He’d been a roofer, not unsurprisingly, when he’d been younger. But along comes young love, a broken heart, and it’s off to the border to forget. Some might do that for a few years, but not Ridge Tile. He’d stayed, and it was only when he was so old he couldn’t climb ladders any more that they’d pensioned him off to the veterans institute in Manehattan. From there they’d plonked him into the museum with other worn out defenders of the ‘Pax Equestria’, where he would gradually become just another fading relic of a job that nopony cared a damn about.

Poor old sod.

I had to hoof it Jelly Bean though, he’d thought of everything. I had a rain cape, a set of camping utensils, food, water, and even some wine. All of this was in addition to my own bits and pieces that were neatly strapped to my back. It was a bit damp here and there though, despite the general warmth of the forest. The bamboo kept the sun from my head and causing me to become too hot, but it didn’t do much to keep the rain off. I’d been walking for about a day now with the odd snooze to recharge the old Fairlight batteries. Exactly ‘why’ I was here was a mystery that had yet to unfold, although I’m sure it would in the fullness of time. I expect it was probably part of some ‘greater cosmic plan’ or some such bollocks. Personally, I couldn’t care less. All I’d wanted was to get the hell out of that cell, mysterious barbers or no. I huffed under my breath. Barber? Ha! Yeah, right. He wasn’t fooling anypony. I was still chuckling to myself when the sound of running water nearby caught my attention. My water flask was running a little low, and a refill certainly wouldn’t go amiss. The path I was following, or ‘dirt track’ as I should more realistically have called it, lead me along to where I could just make out the telltale sparkling of a river through the edge of the bamboo forest. I picked up my pace. I’d find a handy rock to sit on, and maybe indulge in a little fishing too. I had some stuff I could use to make a rudimentary-

Somepony was there.

I quickly ducked down and stayed absolutely still. Friend or foe, I had no intention of barging into them to find out. Keeping quiet was the order of the day. Plus, I could have a cheeky nose into their conversation…

“… and do you know what they called me?” It was a mare’s voice, and one that sounded oddly familiar too. “Stoic! Bloody stoic!” The voice sounded angry, and was accompanied by a huffing that spoke volumes about the speaker’s temper right then. “Can you believe that?” she continued. “How could somepony write such a thing?!”

A male voice now, “I believe it refers to someone who does not openly express emotion in adverse conditions.”

“I know that! You don’t have to quote the dictionary definition at me. Gods!” The mare snorted loudly, “It makes me sound like some old mare who’s so stiff you could use her as a bloody ironing board.”

“It’s only an article in the paper, love,” the male reasoned calmly. “Ponies will forget about it in a day or two. You’ll see.”

“Ho, yes, I’m sure they will!” the mare snorted. “Luna nearly wet herself when she read that article, and I can hear the staff talking about it behind their hooves when they think I’m out of earshot. They must think I’m deaf as well as batty! Maybe even senile!”

There was a rustle of paper, “Here, let me read it.” I waited patiently as the male read before finally speaking, “It says that following the attack on the palace and upon your royal personage, you have shown yourself to be stoic and resolute in the face of true adversity.”

“And let’s not forget weak too!” the mare rumbled. “I know what they’re all thinking; that I’m past it, that I’m weak and a pushover for any would be bully who fancies a shot at the throne!”

“You’re reading too much into it,” the stallion replied.

“Am I now?” The mare nickered. “I think I’ve done more than enough ‘reading’ lately thank you very much, so I know damned well how much I ‘read into things’. Damn it, Rush, can’t you take my side for once?!”

There was a long pause before the male, ‘Rush’ apparently, replied, “I am on your side, Tia. I never left it.”

“But you did!” the mare retorted suddenly. “You did leave my side!” There was a crunch of twigs and leaves, “You… you left me… all alone.”

I tried to see through the bushes and I could just about make out the male, a brown earth stallion, leaning down to the white mare.

“I know, love. But all the magic in the world couldn’t turn back time.”

The mare closed her eyes, her voice quavering. “Father offered you-”

“I know what he offered me,” the male cut in gently but firmly, “but I’d already spent a lifetime in a body that wasn’t my own. I’m not going to change that now.” He shook his head, “Not now.”

“You could come home with me!” the white mare replied. “You don’t have to-”

“Tia, please...” The stallion let out a long sigh, “Please, you know why. We’ve talked about this time and time again. Here we can be together in peace, far away from all the politicking and intrigues of the court. We can be together whenever we want.”

“Whenever we want...” The white mare’s voice faded. She sounded utterly defeated, like the very weight of the world was on her pristine white shoulders. “Do I ask for too much? To want you with me by my side to support me? To be there to hold when I need your love? If you’d been there when those changelings attacked, I… I might have...”

“I know.” The brown stallion reached out a hoof to her, “I’m sorry love.” Gently, lovingly, he took her in his embrace and pulled the snow white mare with the purple eyes to his chest. “One day, when they are ready for me, I’ll come to you.”

There was a loud sniff, “You’d better.” The mare closed her eyes and wiped away a tear, “I hate the way the people keep calling me the ‘virgin princess’ all the time, Rush. They seem to think I’m this untouchable object of worship who can never so much as even look at another living soul for fear of shattering into a million pieces and plunging the land into darkness. Gods, even the staff treat me like I’m some fragile old maid made of glass!”

“You’re not.” Rush shook his head, a glint in his big eyes, “You’re made of the land and the strength of the mountains, the cold beauty of the sky, the gentleness and power of the sea, and the raw energy of the universe itself. But most of all you’re the mare I love, Tia, and to me that is more important than all the gods and goddesses in the heavens.”

There was a throaty chuckle, “You still think like a human sometimes, don’t you.”

“Old habits die hard I was always told.” Rush lightly brushed his muzzle against the mare’s, “And I have some other bad habits too.” His voice dropped to a whisper, “Very bad habits.”

“Mmhmm!” the mare giggled coquettishly. “Well then, Mister Rush, we’d better see what we can do about them then, hadn’t we...”

I couldn’t watch any more, and really I shouldn’t have been watching in the first place. Unfortunately I was now in the distinctly unenviable position whereby if I moved I would attract unwanted attention, and worse still, I could hear every single blasted sound coming from the couple as they went at each other like rutting warthogs. Dear gods, the noise from them! Whooping and laughing quickly turned into gasping, shrieking, neighing, and… and other noises too! Horribly I could feel the impacts through the ground, the vibrations causing even the leaves to shake in the bushes. I covered my eyes and ears the best I could, but it wasn’t enough. It was nowhere near enough! I don’t know how long it lasted, but eventually the couple flopped on the ground beside each other utterly exhausted.

“Must you go so soon?” Rush asked wearily.

‘Tia’ blew her mane from her eyes, “I have to, love. I have another court to hold for the Marquis de Salisbury and a representative from the Yakistan consulate.” The mare leaned forward and kissed him with such tenderness it made my heart ache. “I’ll be back tonight, so make sure you have the bed made up this time, lazy!”

The brown stallion huffed, “Yes, Dearest.”

A quick nip on the rump made him squeak in surprise, and in a flurry of wings and legs the white mare was up on her hooves. “See you later, love. I’ll pick up some of the lemon drizzle seed cake from the bakers on the way.” I kept my head down as the tall creature trotted past me onto the road. And stopped. My heart felt like it was going to burst of my chest as she spoke...

“Did you like what you saw?”

I said nothing, keeping as still and quiet as a mouse.

“I don’t mind really,” she whispered, “but do try to keep this to yourself. I would absolutely hate for anything to spoil all the work we’ve put into mending our relationship. Yes?”

I nodded.

She patted me on the head, “Good boy.”

“Tia?” Rush called. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes, love!” The white mare shouted happily and waved a hoof at her lover, “Better get the kettle on, you have a guest. I’ll send him over. The poor fellow looks a bit lost!” She leaned down and gave me a pat on the rump, “Ta-ta!” A flash of magic, an intensely itching horn, and she was gone.

“Dear goddesses,” I murmured. “That was-”

“Celestia?” I nearly shot out of my hide as the brown earth stallion appeared beside me extending a hoof in greeting, “Rush,” he said pleasantly. “And you are?”

“Um… Fairlight. Pleased to meet you,” I replied as he helped me out of the bushes.

“You look like a fellow on a serious journey,” the stallion noted taking in my armour and packs. “Do you have time to stop for a cup of tea?”

“Always,” I smiled brushing off the lead litter from my cloak. Before I knew it I was trotting after my new acquaintance up the hard earth track and deeper into the bamboo forest.

Rush’s home was a surprisingly plain affair for a pony who was quite obviously intimately involved with the ruler of Equestria. It sat nestled in a cleared area of bamboo, with what appeared to be a workshop, storage sheds, and various other features of what I would have normally classed as a farm house or craftspony’s home. Yet as rustic as it looked, the owner had clearly still taken the time to create a garden the likes of which I never would have expected to see outside of the royal botanical gardens. It was, to put it mildly, stunningly beautiful. There was no other word to describe it. Rocks sat like tiny islands amongst a shall pond which was fed from a small waterfall. Large colourful fish glided beneath the water lilies that looked like they had been placed there by nature itself rather than mortal hooves. Moss grew everywhere like a carpet of purest green below perfectly manicured trees. And if there was one thing, one sensation that I could say in all honesty that it evoked, it would be… ‘peace’. Beside it the house-cum-cottage oddly seemed at home here, rather than standing out as a crude structure beside such natural magnificence. Rough cut logs and planks formed the walls, and the roof was comprised of a surprisingly thick thatch that had been neatly cut and formed into an equally unusually steep pitch, at least by equestrian standards. A smart layer of plaster had been sparingly applied over the outside walls, but left unpainted, allowing it to blend softly into the surrounding wood and thatch. Instead of glass in the windows there were heavy looking shutters – a stark contrast to the quaint ideals of your more typical equestrian abode. Especially in the herd.

Rush lead me into the porch area, motioning to a set of slippers, a bucket, and a selection of brushes. I looked at him in puzzlement.

“Ah, forgive me,” Rush bowed apologetically. “Where I am from people clean their feet when entering a house. It’s part tradition,” he shrugged, “but it helps keep the tatami mats from being soiled.” He pointed to the slippers. “There’s a set there which should be your size.”

I nodded, emulating his bow a little shakily, “Um… sure.” I followed Rush’s lead and cleaned my hooves, drying them off with the provided towel and slipped on the comfortable hoof ware. “You have a beautiful home here, Rush,” I offered.

“Thank you,” he said with another bob of his head. “You’re too kind.”

I felt a touch embarrassed and felt myself emulating his bowing almost instinctively. “I’m not familiar with this style of architecture.” I peered up at the solid rafters. “Is it Equestrian?”

Rush shook his head, leading me further into the large, spacious home. “No. It’s more typical of the homes from where I was born and raised. I built my own home there, but here I had more time and more than a little help from friends and family.” He tapped his head, “Magic would be a real help of course, but I’m more used to working with my hooves and mouth.” He chuckled, “I’ve had a long time to get used to it, and I still sometimes fall into my old ways even now.” The brown stallion waved me to a cushion on the floor beside a large open fire range whilst he collected a tea pot, a small wooden box, and two cups. Everything he produced was plain, simple in it’s own rustic charm, and absolutely in keeping with the theme of our surroundings. He hadn’t asked me anything, and yet was treating me as though I were an old friend come to visit. I suddenly felt horribly embarrassed, and cleared my throat.

“Rush,” I began, “I have a confession to make.”

“Oh?”

I took a breath and hung my head, “Forgive me, but… I stumbled across you and the princess in the woods, and didn’t make myself known to you both before you, um… became close.”

Rush paused and looked up at me, “Did we offend you?”

“No!” I quickly held up a hoof, “Good goddesses, no. I just feel that...” I took a breath and sighed, “It was wrong of me. It was not my intention to spy on you.”

“Then no harm was done,” Rush replied simply. He slid a cup of steaming tea over to me, “No sugar or milk I’m afraid. Is this alright for you?”

“Oh! Yes… yes, it is.” I gave him what I hoped came across as a genuine smile of gratitude and took a sip of the tea. Normally I took tea with milk and sugar, but this… this was... amazing! “This is delicious!” I exclaimed. “I’ve never had anything like it before.”

“It’s called Cacklewood,” the brown stallion explained pleasantly. “It grows in some of the more remote areas of Equestria, and we were able to cultivate some here for our own use.”

“Celestia and yourself?” I asked.

Rush nodded, “When she’s here. Celestia spends a great deal of her time in Equestria, as you no doubt know.”

I nodded, feeling my body relaxing by the second with the wonderful tea. “It must be difficult for you,” I offered. “For both of you.”

“Not really,” Rush replied with a dismissive shrug. “Tia can read the time fluctuations between the mortal realm and here. What may seem like an hour there can be a week here, or more. Of course it can work the other way around too, so you need someone who is a lot more in tune with magic than, say, myself.”

And boy, did I know all about that! Still, the house had an empty feel to it that as much as it looked cosy, it made me feel as though something was missing. “Are there any other settlements around here?” I asked.

“Not many.” Rush took a sip of his tea, “The nearest village is a days walk from here along the road on the outskirts of the forest. I visit it from time to time, but mostly I stay here.”

“It’s very quiet here though,” I observed. “Don’t you miss the company of other ponies?”

Rush shrugged, “I enjoy my own space, and the herd kindly gave it to me when I arrived.” He took a sip of his tea. “I have what I need. When I passed over I found myself here along with all my tools, building equipment, and everything I needed to start afresh.” The brown stallion smiled absently, “It took a long time, but every nail, every board and reed in this building, I put there myself.”

“So in the literal sense, you built your own home here?” I shook my head in amazement, “That’s incredible...”

Rush smiled and bowed, “You’re too kind.”

“Not at all.” I bobbed my head to him in response and began staring around in wonder at the incredible place Rush had built for himself and the princess. You certainly couldn’t get any further removed from the luxuries of the palace with its fantastical architecture, marble, and exquisite works of art everywhere you looked. Here the work of a true craftspony showed in every beam, every joint, and even the mats we were sat on. And the smell! It was incredible! Everything was permeated with a soft and gentle scent of freshness that added a vibrancy and life to the interior that I absolutely adored. “Rush, forgive me for asking, but what’s that smell?” I asked. “It’s wonderful.”

“The flooring,” Rush said, motioning towards the large interlocking mats we were sat on. “They’re made from river reeds which I collect and use for furniture, bedding, the roof - all sort of things.”

“Is that something you did when you were alive?” I asked.

Rush nodded, motioning towards to his cutie mark, “I was blessed by the gods with a gift for working with natural materials.”

I looked around the room at the various examples of home made furniture, including the bunches of reeds woven expertly into the ceiling and walls. Everywhere I looked were examples of the fellow’s craft. “Extraordinary,” I breathed.

Rush bobbed his head again and turned the conversation back to me. “So, may I ask what brings you to my home today, Fairlight?” He put down his cup and shifted his weight into a more comfortable position.

Damn it, I could see this coming a mile off. I mean, what was I supposed to say? A magical barber let me escape from prison and sent me into… wherever the bloody hell this was supposed to be! But Rush seemed an honest sort of fellow, and one I had immediately felt comfortable to be around. Celestia obviously trusted him, but I wasn’t exactly on the very best terms with the white witch despite of our recent accord. Mind you, it may pay dividends to, shall we say, grease the wheels with the coltfriend? I’d have to box clever though. The last thing I wanted was her nibs hearing all my dirty little secrets. Speaking of which, who knew she had a coltfriend in the first place? I’d never heard anything on the usually all pervasive grapevine, and I’m damned sure the magazines and papers would have been brim full of it if it had it been common knowledge. That said, Rush was in the herd, and was quite evidently a mortal who’d ended up here exactly the same way as all mortals do. I wonder what his story was?

“To be honest I stumbled across you and the princess completely by accident,” I said holding up a hoof apologetically. “I’m just…” I paused, “I don’t know really. Truth be told I haven’t got a clue where I am or where I’m going.” I chuckled helplessly, “I’m just a wanderer, I guess.”

“Itchy hooves?” Rush asked with a wry smile.

“Not by choice,” I lamented quietly. “Things at home didn’t quite work out the way I’d hoped. I suppose I’ll just let Fate take me where she will. She always gets her way in the end.”

“Fate,” Rush snorted under his breath. “A mare who has more power than the gods in some ways.”

“I can’t say I’ve ever had the pleasure,” I grumbled. “Although I’d probably have more than a few words to say to her if I did bump into her one day.”

Rush leaned back and smiled, “Aye… Me too, Fairlight. Me too.”

We sat quietly for a time, enjoying the peace and quiet with only the pop and crackle of the fire as accompaniment to disturb the near perfect silence. I could see now why Rush like it here so much. I could feel my mind slowly opening to the world around me, my senses spreading their ethereal wings and taking in the fragrant air and life of this curious land. Perhaps… Perhaps this truly was the heaven I had hoped for all these years. Peace, quiet, the lazy river outside beyond the whispering leaves of the bamboo forest. It was all so perfect. So, so perfect... I could feel my head drooping and my eyes closing as, for the first time in I don’t know how long, I started to relax.

“Fairlight?”

“Hmm? Oh!” I looked up with a start, “Gods… Sorry, Rush,” I said rubbing my eyes, “I was nodding off there for a minute.”

“You were.” The stallion helped me to my hooves. “Come. I always keep the spare room made up for unexpected guests. Take the weight off your back and be my guest for the evening.”

I wasn’t in a fit state to argue. Tiredness flooded my body as Rush helped me with my barding, packs, and other assorted gear. Between the two of us we soon had it stacked and ready for the morning with the kind of military precision my father would have been proud of. As anypony who was used to wearing armour could tell you, taking all that weight off was like flying without wings, and I all but floated over to the bed with a combined sense of gratitude and relief that was almost tangible.

“Thanks,” I breathed. “I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything.” Rush plucked several blankets off the shelf and placed them on the foot of the bed, “You can use these if you get a little chilly. I’ll be down by the river if you need me, but otherwise help yourself to food and drink.” He plucked a neat silver pocket watch out of his tunic pocket and examined it. “You get some sleep, Fairlight. Come and join me later if you like.”

I closed my eyes, dropping onto the pillow that gave just enough to take my weary head into the world of dreams. “Thanks, Rush,” I murmured. “You’re a good one.”

“So she tells me.”

I didn’t hear the door close behind him. My mind was already drifting away in the gentle wash of sleep almost immediately, and I fell into a well needed slumber.

My consciousness drifted away on clouds as light as the softest eiderdown. With the absence of sound and only the blessed peace of this simple charming home remaining to balm my soul… Oh gods, how I had longed for this. There was no fear here, no pain, no blood, no screaming and the terror of innocence fleeing the horror of brutality and violence. There was only… love. My soul slipped between the worlds with a carefree abandon that was as joyous as it was liberating. I was free, free to laugh and dance, to fly and soar above the clouds. I was who I was, and nothing could change that now. Nothing at all. The mountains below, as grey as my coat, white capped with snow as white as the stripes in my tail and mane. I was a pony, an equestrian stallion. I was a wendigo, a spirit of the mountains. I was a soul of Equestria and a spirit of the netherworld. I was… I am… Free.

Waking up was almost a disappointment after such a relaxing snooze. A huge yawn and a stretch lead to another snuggle into the warm blankets. Safe beneath my woollen armour, a cool breeze tickled my ear from the open shutter which had been set to allow the perfect amount of ventilation into the room for a refreshing sleep. It was dark outside now, and the night time sounds of the forest drifted in, lulling me off into another delicious doze. It was a fairytale home in a fairytale land of such beauty that I-

Voices?

I sat up and rubbed my eyes. It was a mare and a stallion talking… My ears twitched and I began to strain to listen, and I- NO! Gods, no! What was I thinking?! Was I so bloody paranoid that I would keep listening in on my host like some kind of damned spy? I know I had the right to be wary about ponies after what had happened to me, but Rush? No. I was better than that. I had to be better than that! I shook myself and walked over to the wash stand, giving myself a rub down with the fresh water. A cursory inspection of my packs revealed my wash kit, and I gave my teeth a generous scrub for good measure. Determined to make a good impression, I strode to the door, opened it, and bowed low,

“Your Majesty...”

“Slice of cake, Lord Fairlight?”

I nearly tripped over my own hooves, “I… I’m sorry?”

Celestia rolled her eyes, “Would you like a slice of cake?”

Rush poured out a cup of tea and placed it next to the empty cushion beside the fire. “You’re welcome to join us,” he smiled. “Did you sleep well?”

“Um, yes. Yes, I did, thank you.” I bobbed my head towards Celestia, “And yes, Your Majesty, a slice of cake would be lovely, thanks.”

“Are you alright with lemon?” she asked. “I know some ponies can find it a little tart for their palate.”

I shook my head, “No, I’m fine with it really. I actually find the taste quite refreshing.”

The princess nodded, lifting up a small knife in her magic. “These come from Winsome’s Bakery in Los Pegasus, the only shop I know that can get the recipe just right. Goodness knows I’ve tried all the ones in Canterlot, but they just don’t seem to have the knack of getting the balance of sweet and sharp right for some reason.” Celestia floated a plate over to me with a generous slice of the sweet treat. “It goes well with coffee, but Rush’s tea is the best for bringing out the true flavour.”

Rush blushed slightly. It was only a little, but I still caught the look he exchanged with Celestia. It was only for the briefest second, but in those eyes I saw something that made my heart ache with loneliness. I gritted my teeth and stared down at the cake, praying silently that the jealousy that had flared within me wouldn’t taint the evening with these two. Gods, had I always been such an emotional wreck? Ha! Probably!

“Is something amusing?” Celestia asked bluntly. She waved off the silent protest from Rush and watched me intently.

I shook my head. “Not ‘amusing’, Your Majesty,” I said honestly, “Endearing. I confess I have rarely seen a couple so in love, and it’s truly wonderful to see.” I bowed politely. “I wish you both eternal happiness together.”

“Oh!” Celestia flushed a remarkable shade of pink which stood out in stark contrast to her white coat. “Thank you, Lord Fairlight. I’m so sorry, I thought we were being so discreet too.”

“A little late for that...” Rush muttered.

Celestia shot him a look, but it would appear my erstwhile stallion friend was immune to the white goddess’s infamous stares. I nearly laughed when Rush waggled his eyebrows at me comically. Thankfully the great Celestia missed it or I could see a piece of cake flying at him for his cheek. I tactfully diverted the conversation by taking a mouthful of the cake and remarking, “Delicious!” It was too. The moist, lemony cake with the crunchy sugar topping was extraordinarily good. “It has a slight maltiness to it that’s uncommonly good,” I observed, “And it’s so moist!”

“Aha! A connoisseur at last!” The princess sniffed animatedly at Rush, “You see, is said cake’s more than just ‘a sweet accompaniment to beverages.’”

“You’re not a fan of sweet things?” I asked Rush.

The stallion shook his head. “I do enjoy them,” he replied, raising an eyebrow. “But I wasn’t brought up on them so I don’t have quite the same affinity with them as a lot of ponies do. In my village the diet was mostly vegetables, rice, fish, and on occasion, venison. Sweet things were mostly for children and were sold by a travelling salesman.”

“Venison?” I blinked in surprise. “Isn’t that-?”

“He didn’t eat venison,” Celestia cut in quickly. “Ponies don’t eat meat. Do they, Rush?”

Rush remained silent.

And what was that other word he’d used? Sales… man? ‘Man’… I’d heard that word before somewhere but couldn’t quite put my hoof on it. Unfortunately I had the impression I was walking right into some very dangerous territory here and decided to bite back my next remark about wendigo eating meat. Celestia knew perfectly well what I was, and I suspected that, by association, Rush would too. I decided to avoid any further questions and play the consummate guest.

“Well, I can honestly say that you have both been extremely gracious with me, and if I may add, that this is some of the best tea and cake I have ever had.” I bobbed my head to Rush, “Thank you for your kindness in allowing me to stay the night, Rush.”

Rush smiled broadly, “Not at all. Any friend of Tia’s is a friend of mine.”

Friend?! I glanced at the princess whose blank expression said it all. She had clearly spoken to Rush about me, but in what capacity was something I didn’t know. “Thank you, Your Majesty,” I said, and bowed respectfully.

“Oh, for the gods’ sake can we please stop being so bloody formal?” The white mare rolled her eyes and rustled her wings, “I’m not ‘your majesty’ here, Fairlight, and I’d prefer it if we could speak together as equals for once instead of dancing about matters like blasted politicians. We all know that you and I haven’t exactly seen eye to eye before, and that’s putting it mildly. So I suggest we enjoy the evening together, have some tea and cake, and leave all the bowing and scraping where it belongs: in the palace. Are we agreed?”

I didn’t know what to say! I gave myself a shake, “Yes, your- um… Celestia?”

“Celestia is my name,” the princess said levelly. “Unless you would prefer that I keep calling you Lord Fairlight Loam all night?”

“No,” I shook my head briskly. “Fairlight is perfectly fine.”

“And you may call me Rush,” Rush smirked.

Celestia clucked her tongue at him but still snuck in a surreptitious wink. I couldn’t help but smile; love was a strange thing indeed.

The evening passed by with the three of us chatting about such mundane topics as baking, dancing, styles of dress, and even some historical characters that Celestia had met during her lifetime. Star Swirl, I noted, hadn’t been mentioned once despite his prominence in Equestrian history. I doubted it was unintentional either. If there was one thing I knew about the princess it was that she was not only remarkably intuitive, but that she always seemed to be one step ahead of the game. In all things. Topics surrounding children were also avoided, although I suspected this may have something to do with the princess not having any of her own. Or did she? She’d certainly kept Rush well hidden, so there was every possibility she did. Now my interest really was piqued! Still, as much I’d like to satisfy that nosy part of my inquisitive nature, I would have to keep my questions pleasant and non-inflammatory out of respect for my kindly hosts.

“May I ask how you two met?” I asked pleasantly.

Celestia sipped her tea thoughtfully. “It was during the war with Nightmare Moon and the Legion.” She glanced at Rush and smiled, “I was wounded in the fighting at the first battle of River Valley and ended up behind the enemy lines. My own fault of course. I was young, inexperienced, and far too damned idealistic for my own good.” She put down her tea. “Some said I was ‘cocky’, and as much as it pains me to admit it, I was. Leaders of state, Fairlight, should leave the pursuance of war to those who have dedicated themselves to such matters. History is replete with tales of the rise and fall of nations where politicians played generals with the lives of their people. The Llamalian Empire was brought to its knees by warring states, right to the point where their people went from being a technologically advanced civilisation to a near stone age existence which they have barely clawed their way out of. All of it was brought about through the ambitions, and the occasional madness, of politicians.”

“We have politicians in our system though, don’t we?” I asked.

Celestia huffed, “Pah! I’ve seen more animated stiffs in a cemetery.” She waved a hoof, “Rush, you take over will you?”

The brown stallion reached across and touched her hoof tenderly. In response, Celestia closed her eyes and sighed, letting her rising ire out in a long slow breath as Rush continued the tale, “Tia was hunted down by a group of warriors and gravely wounded in the fighting near my home. Although alicorns can heal quickly, they’re not indestructible.” He gave her a gentle smile. “I found Tia unconscious in the forest and brought her to my home where I helped nurse her back to health. I had some training in the healers arts and did what I could. By the grace of the gods, and her own strength, she began to recover. I didn’t know who she was at the time, but as we grew to know one another I began to realise she meant more to me than some stray woodland creature I’d found in the snow.”

“Woodland creature?!” I nearly choked on my cake and was rewarded with a withering glare from the princess. I held up a hoof placatingly, “I’m sorry! I… I thought everypony knew who the princess was, and-”

Rush came to the rescue, “Ah… I’m afraid it’s me who should apologise, Fairlight. You see, I wasn’t born as you see me now. My mother was Equestrian. She was pregnant with me when she travelled through a portal to another world without any means of returning home. Part of the magic of the portal meant that I was born as a completely different being to what I am, and it was only when I met Tia that I was able to come home, to my real home, in Equestria.”

Celestia’s face was a picture. She quite clearly didn’t like Rush talking about this part of his life, and she turned to stare into the fire in angry silence. As for myself, I’d thought there was something unusual about Rush. Nothing physical of course. It was more in his mannerism and his speech, not to mention the design of the house that spoke of an ‘otherness’ to him that was distinctly ‘un-equestrian’. And then it struck me. ‘Man’. Hu-‘man’.

“You were born on a world of humans?” I asked.

“You know about them?” Rush asked in surprise. “How? Have you been there?”

“You could say that.” I glanced at the princess and then back to Rush, “I was only there briefly, but I didn’t like what I saw.” I closed my eyes, “I’m sorry, Rush. I don’t mean to offend you, but what I saw there was… grim.”

“Oh, they’re not all bad,” Rush said pleasantly. He topped up my tea and put another pot on to boil. “Like anywhere there are good and bad, even amongst the thestrals. Thorn helped us despite being ordered by Nightmare Moon to bring back-”

“Rush, please!” Celestia wrapped her wings about herself and shivered visibly. “Don’t… Don’t talk about that. Luna’s changed now, and I don’t like to be reminded of things that… that tore us apart.”

Rush leaned towards her and stroked her back tenderly, “I’m sorry, love.”

She looked back at him with a pained smile and kissed him.

“Did you say ‘Thorn’, Rush?” I asked. “That wouldn’t happen to be Storm Major Thorn of the Beyond tribe would it?”

“You know him?” Rush sat up quickly, his ears pricked up. “How on earth do you know him?”

“He helped me escape from a lunatic who wanted to chop my head off,” I said simply. “Thorn risked everything that day, and he lost his own son doing it.” I looked down at my tea, at the steam swirling up around my muzzle, the same way the water had swirled around the bridge supports near the crucified body of my friend’s boy. “I owe him more than I could ever repay,” I finished quietly. “Thestral he may be, but he has a heart and soul greater than most I have met in my lifetime.”

“It was an honour to know him,” Rush added nodding his head. “He was a soldier, and a stallion with a strong sense of honour, duty, and one I would be glad to call my friend.”

Celestia, I noted, looked away and said nothing. Some things never left you, and as much as Thorn may have helped them, he would forever be one of ‘them’ to her: an invader, and an enemy. I knew myself that there were some memories you could acquire in your life that would never fade no matter how much you wished them to. Oh, they may dull in time, you may even forget them, but they were always there, hiding in the dark recesses of your consciousness, wiling their time and spreading their influence. Unseen. Uncompromising. Memories like that left scars that were invisible to the eye, but dig deep enough, and they were there all right.

“So what was it like balancing on two legs all the time?” I asked, changing the subject.

“I didn’t know any better,” Rush replied. He helped himself to another slice of cake and topped up all three cups of tea. “I’d always had a sense of ‘otherness’ which I put down to simply being less inclined to be around others. I was a loner in a society that prided itself on having a strong community spirit, and so I built a home for myself in the forest where I could live and work in peace. But that feeling of not belonging, of my body being… ‘wrong’, never left me.” He leaned across and placed a hoof beside his mare’s, and their eyes met. “It was only when I found Tia that my dreams began to make sense and to take form. It was then that I realised who, and what, I truly was.”

It sounded like a bloody nightmare to me. “How did you change back to being a pony?” I asked curiously.

“The portal magic,” Rush explained. “Tia can explain it better than me, but from what I can tell, when mum arrived in the human world your body changes to emulate the local fauna. When I travelled back with Tia, I changed into what I should have been all along.” He tapped his chest, “One earth pony stallion. Complete, and un-gelded.”

“Un-?” I held up a hoof, “No, I don’t want to know!”

Rush chuckled mischievously, “What about you, Fairlight? How did you end up dealing with humans?”

“Ah, well...” I glanced over at Celestia who said nothing. “I worked for the Watch, and later on, the Agency.” I took a sip of my tea. “A while ago a criminal element in Equestria had somehow managed to recreate portal technology and were trading with the humans in weapons, drugs, and slaves.”

“Slaves?” Rush stared at me before looking to Celestia. The princess never spoke, but her expression told Rush all he needed to know. He looked sick.

“I’m afraid so,” I nodded sadly. “But we got them back home safely in the end. Unfortunately, to infiltrate the human world, myself and my team ended up morphing into those bald pink monkey things and had to learn to use those… what were they? Hams? No… Hands?” Rush nodded. “Useful things to have I suppose,” I continued, “but gods was I glad to get back on solid ground with proper solid hooves instead of those pink squidgy tentacles on the end of my legs.”

“It was a bit different for me.” Rush snorted and stretched out his hind leg for a scratch, which I was surprised to see Celestia obliged without even a single word passing between them. Was it really possible to know somepony so intimately, so intuitively, that they knew what you wanted or were thinking without any verbal communication? Incredible... I looked up as Rush continued, “The shock of changing nearly killed me, and it’s really only thanks to Tia and Star Swirl I survived at all. My recovery took some time, but as you can see I got there in the end.” He gazed into Celestia’s eyes and smiled distantly as though remembering those traumatic days of his past. “I’d lived as a human for a whole lifetime, Fairlight, and perhaps being born on a planet where magic doesn’t exist simply overwhelmed my body. I don’t know, but I wouldn’t wish going through that transformation on anyone.” He grinned, “Or any pony.”

“Don’t you miss being a human though?” I asked, intrigued. “After all, you were one for a long time, right?”

“I was,” Rush agreed. “But do I miss it?” He shrugged, “Sometimes. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss the ease of using tools and things, especially when I’m doing something intricate. But overall? No. I am who the gods intended me to be, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“But you still live here on your own,” I pointed out. “Don’t you miss the company of other ponies, Rush? I know you said you liked your solitude, but ponies have a herding instinct which is hard to ignore.”

He nodded, “True, but I also enjoy my own company. Much of my time here is spent collecting reeds, chopping fire wood, or working in the workshop on various projects for the market. Tia spends as much time with me as she can, and my mother and father visit occasionally too, which is why I built the guest room.”

It went without saying where Celestia was sleeping. I wondered if any of the staff at the palace noticed she’d been missing, but from what Rush was saying it was clear they’d been together for what must have been around a thousand years, and they still acted like love struck teenagers. Even then Celestia must have been ancient by pony standards. Maybe Rush liked older mares?

“If I may ask, Fairlight, where are you planning to go when you leave?” Rush asked. “The forest is a very large place, and if you don’t know your way around you could easily get lost. And trust me when I say this is not the place one wants to get lost.”

My ears pricked up. “It’s that dangerous?” I asked in surprise. “We are still in the eternal herd’s realm, aren’t we?”

“We are,” Celestia answered. “However, due our rather unique circumstances, Rush’s home is far away from the rest of the herd so that we are not, er… disturbed?” She glanced at Rush before turning back to me. “I’m sure you understand why, Fairlight.”

“Forgive me for saying so, but I’m not sure I do.” I cast them both a sincere smile. “Surely ponies would rejoice for their princess to find love? A royal wedding would-”

The princess closed her eyes and her frozen expression killed off the rest of my words before they left my mouth. A chill shivered down my spine. I’d really put my hoof right in it this time. Thank the gods Rush quickly came to the rescue.

“Ponies knew about me when I was alive, Fairlight,” Rush explained. “After I came home to Equestria and was able to walk about without falling flat on my face all the time I was introduced to the people as the Royal Consort. Most ponies accepted me readily enough, but as much as I would have wished it otherwise there were all too many who resented our relationship, including some high ranking members of society both in Equestria and abroad.”

“Rush was seen as… ‘unwelcome competition’,” Celestia added. She took a shaking breath as she continued, “To many of the nobility he was merely a ‘common earth pony’ who had no right being by my side. Our relationship caused fractures along old tribal lines which I’d thought had been put to rest when the war of the tribes came to a close. Apparently, I was wrong.”

“But that was more than a thousand years ago,” I reasoned. “Society has moved on since then and a lot of those old prejudices have been consigned to the history books where they belong. I don’t doubt you’ll still find the odd racist lurking in the shadows, but nopony nowadays would want to be caught airing those kinds of views, especially public figures.”

“Ah, Fairlight...” Celestia shook her head, “Even if that were true, like you, Rush’s mortal body is no more. Do you seriously think that the ponies of Equestria would accept their princess being in love with a soul from the eternal herd?”

“I… I don’t know...” I hung my head. What a fool I was! As always my bloody big mouth was in gear before my brain...

Rush leaned over and clopped me on the hind leg, “Don’t worry, Fairlight, I make that mistake all the time. Living here in the forest is so much like my old home that it’s easy to forget I’m in the afterlife.”

“Your Majesty, I’m so sorry,” I whispered. “That was ignorant of me. I didn’t mean to-”

“Fairlight, please, this isn’t a conversation I haven’t had a thousand times already with Rush,” Celestia said gently. “He’s a stubborn mule sometimes, and he knows that all he needs to do is-”

“Tia?” Rush’s voice carried a note of warning. “That’s not a subject we should be discussing with guests.”

The princess sniffed imperiously at her lover’s words, but they still had the desired effect. She took a deep breath, resettled her wings by her side and lifted the pot from beside the firepit, “More tea anypony?”

There was a tense silence for a while, broken only by the tinkle of cups and the sound of tea pouring into them. The last pieces of cake disappeared and the conversation began once more, only this time on the subject of manes, hoof care, and Rush’s experience in herbology. I was genuinely fascinated to hear about his life in the human realm despite Celestia’s earlier reticence about him talking about it. Was she embarrassed by the way she’d met Rush there? Or was it because, as I suspected, she feared he may be seen as not being a real pony? Both were likely to be true, and knowing how fickle ponies could be I could understand how difficult things must have been for the two of them after the war. To be honest I was quite intrigued as to how Rush had managed to vanish from the histories however, let alone the public consciousness. Nopony had ever mentioned Rush in any of the classes I had attended, and history had been one of the few subjects I’d actually enjoyed. Perhaps it was a deliberate act by Celestia, or of course it could have simply been forgotten. Knowing how little ponies seemed to care about their past it wouldn’t surprise me in the slightest. I think that was one of the reasons I found Briar and her stories so fascinating. She cared about her peoples past. She knew the old songs, the legends and sagas of days long gone. And I’d hung off her every word like a fish on a hook.

“So what do you think, Rush?” Celestia asked. “Up or down?”

“Definitely a pony tail,” Rush replied with a nod. “It suits you.”

“You don’t think it makes me look silly?”

“Of course not.”

“Fairlight?”

“Hmm?” I looked up, suddenly noting I was being included in their conversation. “Oh! Er… the pony tail.”

Celestia’s magic glowed and a red scrunchie floated out of her pannier and over her mane, sliding up along the length of it until it held her magnificent rainbow hair in place. “You’re sure it doesn’t look strange?” she asked.

Rush rolled his eyes, “No, Tia.”

The princess looked to me, “Fairlight?”

I couldn’t help but chuckle, “I have to agree with Rush. It suits you very well, Celestia.”

“Luna made fun of me the last time I had it like this,” the princess lamented. “And when I tried it in pigtails she said I looked like a kinky school foal.”

Rush started to laugh.

“It wasn’t funny!” Celestia protested. “She teased me about it for a whole month! I’ll never live that down...”

Rush leaned towards her and whispered something in her ear which made her cheeks blush furiously.

“No!” she squeaked, “I…” Celestia looked down abashed. “Not when we have guests.”

I kept quiet as the couple whispered sweet nothings to one another. The jealous surge within me from earlier had gone, replaced instead by a warm feeling of happiness for these two. Fate had been cruel to them, but eventually they had found love, here in the forest of bamboo. How the two had kept the magic alive all this time was extraordinary in itself, and something I found oddly invigorating. Jelly Bean had been right; hope was what kept us motivated and striving to move forward. I couldn’t conjure it out of thin air, but seeing the purity of love between Celestia and Rush sparked something within me, and it felt… good. Gradually though the evening drew to a close and it was becoming increasingly obvious that these two wanted to go to bed. There was, however, a question I had which hadn’t been fully answered yet.

“Celestia, Rush, where does the forest path lead?” I asked.

Rush looked at his mare and then back to me. “If you take the path to the south it will lead you to one of the villages further up river,” he answered. “Whereas the other will take you deeper into the forest and past the iron gate. I would advise you to avoid that at all cost though, Fairlight. It isn’t the place for ponies to travel. Not even wendigo.”

“Why?” I asked, genuinely intrigued.

Celestia raised an eyebrow, the dying light from the fire glinting in her eyes, “Because that, Fairlight, is the gateway to Tartarus.”

Chapter Eighteen - The Gateway of the Gods

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

THE GATEWAY OF THE GODS

Lord Tararian,

Thank you for your letter regarding the matter of the appointment of the Night Guard to the position of custodians of the Tartarus facility.

In response to your concerns, I am compelled to remind you that is upon your own recommendation, and that of the special interest group ‘Equestria First’, of which you are a senior member, that the Equus Chiroptera were relocated to avoid them causing ‘Undue alarm and consternation’ to the inhabitants of the realm.

It is the conclusion of this office, and that of the royal family, that the matter has been dealt with in a pragmatic and decisive manner to the satisfaction of all involved parties.

Your concerns are duly noted.

Respectfully,

Sir Coconut Macaroon,

Minister for the Interior.

“You could have warned me.”

“And give you the chance to object?” I said with a smile. “And besides, why spoil the surprise?” I threw the bloodied piece of apparatus to one side and licked the blood from my lips, grinning menacingly.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you!” Star Swirl stared at his freshly repaired patch of bare hide and tentatively pressed it with a hoof, “By all the gods, Fairlight, I thought you were going to eat me alive.”

“I considered it,” I smirked, “but why deprive Meadow of her new toy?”

“Oh, for-! Are you still going on about that?” Star Swirl groaned, rising to his hooves. “I’ve already told you umpteen times that nothing happened between us. It was all an act to try and shock you into getting you your powers back so you could save your son.”

“Of course, Star Swirl,” I smiled. “I believe everything you tell me.”

“I can’t talk to you when you’re like this,” he replied with a snort. “Wendigo can be so damnably obtuse at times. Maroc was just the same when he was alive.”

“And now that he’s dead?” I asked.

“He’s just as bad! Worse!” Star Swirl picked up his hat and sighed, “Ruined. The cloaks a write off too. Much of my most sensitive field apparatus is broken beyond repair and-”

“-You’re alive,” I finished for him. “Dying once is bad enough, don’t you think?”

“Hmph!” The old wizard scrubbed his mouth and grimaced, “Was there any need to… to kiss me like that?”

I had to chuckle at the look of discomfort on his face. “I had to get my life essence into you, and that’s the best and most direct way to do it. If I’d pulled that thing out of you first you could have died of shock.” I shrugged, “Besides, if I was into dudes you wouldn’t be my first choice.” I held up a hoof, “No offence.”

“None taken, I’m sure.” Star Swirl rolled his eyes, “Well, I’ve fixed what I can and salvaged the rest. Years it took me to gather all that, and now most of it’s worthless scrap. What a damned shame.”

Goddesses, here we go again! “Do you want to spend all day lamenting your broken toys or do you want to get out of here?” I asked a little testily.

The wizard’s reply carried all his usual tone of authority and a touch of sarcasm for good measure, “You’re the one with the pendant,” he pointed out helpfully. “Lead the way.”

“And I thought we could kiss and make up,” I smirked.

Star Swirl, the first wizard of the royal court, held out his hoof and obligingly I took the lead. Where we had ended up was a small cave with only one way in and one way out, and that was straight ahead down an unlit passageway. Evidence of the way we had arrived here had vanished without a trace, and other than some scuff marks on the rock floor and the smell of burnt fur and clothing, for all intents and purposes it was like we’d been dumped here through some interdimensional laundry chute. Thankfully however Star Swirl was providing the light, and very good is was too. My crappy little flame had never been of much use except for lighting fires, cigars, pipes, and so forth. Handy to have, but it was hardly the best for lighting your way in the pitch black. By comparison the wizard’s ball of white light bobbing along above our heads was like a miniature light house, illuminating the way ahead and simultaneously helping us keep an eye out for any more of those god-awful traps. The wizard’s peculiar head gear had made a reappearance too. Unlike much of his more fragile belongings that had been pulverised in our mad dash to escape the fire, this at least still was intact and something we actually needed. The device’s ability to detect traps could very likely save our lives.

Stars Swirl was now well into his fourth sandwich, and any hopes of him leaving me some of the cheese and haybacon ones was long gone. I couldn’t complain really. It was something that always happened when a pony took in my life energy to help their own body regenerate damaged organs, muscle and tissue. Rather like having a few too many drinks, the injured party was taken with a desperate desire to eat and drink like there was no tomorrow. I didn’t mind particularly, but why did he have to go straight into my favourite sandwiches first?! I bet the only ones left would be those dreadful cheese savoury ones too. Egg and cress I didn’t mind, so long as you weren’t in the same room as me afterwards, but cheese savoury were like seasoned dog vomit between two slices of bread. And don’t even get me started on those godawful pease pudding things. How the hell anypony could eat something with the consistency of plasticine and tasting of wallpaper paste was one of the mysteries of life that I would likely never solve. And felt no inclination to do so either. Fortunately I’d managed to salvage some of my meat based goodies which the gannet posing as a stallion had turned his nose up.

“When I was still alive I met some mountain ponies who ate meat,” Star Swirl announced absently around a mouthful of sandwich, “Lack of what we would normally consider ‘natural’ food in the area meant they’d adapted over the centuries to eat whatever was available. In one particular tribe’s case it was predominantly goat. Some badgers, chickens, wild boar, that sort of thing too of course, but mostly goat. I wrote an article on it for ‘Fauna and Thaumaturgy Monthly’ back in the day. I wonder if you can still get a copy? Hmm… I might look into that when I get back.”

“Hang on, you said they ate goats?!” I nearly choked in surprise. “That’s virtually cannibalism, isn’t it?”

Star Swirl nodded, “I’d say so. They’re not the same species of course, however as dimwitted as they may appear, goats are most certainly sentient and had their own well established settlements further down in the valleys below where the mountain tribe lived. Probably not the best place for them really when you think about it.” The wizard smacked his lips and wiped his mouth on the back of his foreleg before continuing, “As you can imagine, the two peoples were in a perpetual state of conflict, with the ponies raiding the valley for food and the goats fighting for their very existence.”

“Dear goddess,” I breathed, “I never heard anything about this in history class.”

“History class?” Star Swirl chuckled, “Why would you? Who wants to hear about ponies eating other living creatures, especially when they weren’t equestrians in the first place. Anyway, the conflict only ended a few decades ago when the goats came under the protection of a group of people you know quite well yourself: minotaurs.”

“Minotaurs?” I whistled. “I’m guessing it didn’t end well for the mountain ponies, then.”

Star Swirl shrugged, taking another bite of his sandwich, “It didn’t. The tribe that raided the goat villages was lured into a trap set by the villagers and their new allies. The minotaurs blocked the roads preventing any escape and then swept in, killing every single one of the ponies. What came next however was the real eye opener.”

“And that was?” I asked, intrigued.

“Mmm...” Star Swirl swallowed his latest mouthful and took a swig of water, “They attacked the mountain ponies village and slaughtered every living thing before burning what was left to the ground. Young, old, the sick, the infirm - it didn’t matter. Nopony escaped.”

“And so ends the story of the mountain tribe.” I shook my head in disbelief, “Tragic.”

“Oh, it was only that one tribe.” Star Swirl plucked a rather squashed cake from his pack and tucked into it like a starving dog at a bowl of broth. “There’s plenty more of them out there. After the war they sent a delegation to make peace with the princess and our peoples have left each other to their own devices ever since.”

Amazing. “They fought for Nightmare Moon didn’t they?” I asked.

“They did.” Star Swirl yawned, “I must study the effects of this magic of yours one day, Fairlight. The healing effects are extraordinary, if a little… wearing on the body.”

“We can stop for a break if you want,” I suggested.

Star Swirl shook his head, “No. We have to keep going and pray we-” Suddenly he paused, his eyes focussing on something up the corridor. “There’s something up ahead. Keep quiet.” The magic light blinked out in an instant, plunging us back into darkness.

I stood stock still, watching, waiting for movement, for anything that might tell me what was going on. Should I reach for the wendigo power? I’d used a lot of my energy mending Star Swirl’s wounds and the hunger within me was driving me to distraction as it was. I swallowed, focussing on reaching for that cold, hard ball of magic just in case. My eyesight wasn’t bad in the darkness, especially not since my powers had returned, but it wasn’t anywhere near to the level it had been. No more glowing blue eyes, and- Something moved. Something in the shadows. A glint of steel? My horn suddenly began to itch…

“Get down!”

Bolts of blue magical fire flew towards us in a storm of hissing rage. The first volley missed, bursting harmlessly against the rocks walls, but the next volley was right on target. Thank the gods for Star Swirl’s magic. The lethal bolts of energy hit his shield square on, fizzing like a swarm of angry bees as one after another slammed into it.

“I think we found out where Vela is!” the wizard shouted over the din. “Can you do something?”

“I can try!” I called back. “Just keep that damned shield up, okay?”

The grey coated wizard nodded silently as I went to work. It wasn’t an effort to be honest, in fact it was more of a pleasure than anything else. I called to it and the magic answered joyfully, coursing through my body from the core of my being to the tips of my muzzle, ears, hooves, tail, and finally… my wings. I’d already adjusted my packs, and the thestral made barding was cut to allow wings to poke through and work unhindered. Right then though, what I needed was height. Star Swirl’s shield filled the corridor, but up above the ceiling disappeared into the darkness. My eyes focussed, pulling in every sight, every sound and detail. They were there alright, three of them, standing in front of what looked like a large open doorway. I could already see the shimmer of silver light emanating from within flicker and die, silhouetting a group of unicorns frantically working away on the controls.

“They’re already inside!” I called down to Star Swirl, “They’re activating the portal!”

“We have to stop them!” he called back. “Blast it all, I can’t get a damned thing done with all this going on!”

He was right, I had to- Damn it! A white hot bolt of magic sizzled past my ear, singing my fur. I was too slow, too out of practice, and flapping about like a sitting duck up here wasn’t going to solve anything. Meanwhile down amidst the shadows and flares of blue light, somepony shouted a warning and heads turned towards me. I knew what was coming next alright. Heads lowered, horns glowed, and a split second later a glowing shower of bolts screamed up through the frigid air. Quickly I pulled in my wings, dodging the barrage and dove, snapping them out just in time to pull up and make the damned swine shooting at me duck back in fright. It didn’t scare them for long though as another shot caught me painfully across the rump. Well buck this for a game of soldiers! It was time to take the fight to the enemy before I ended up as a wendigo pincushion. One good hard flap of my wings sent me soaring up on a plume of white cloud as it spilled from my hooves. I couldn’t use the fog in such close confines without risking Star Swirl getting caught in it as well, but I could use more targeted magic. And so I concentrated, willing the magic onward. Despite being depleted it leaped to my command with all of its usual enthusiasm, surging up in a geyser of raw magical fury.

My first shot torn through the first of the wendigo in a shower of rock fragments, bone and flesh, raising a mist of crimson to match the howl of pain that was rapidly cut off with my second. It didn’t take the other two long to recover, but by then I was down amongst them, blade free and moving. I hadn’t felt like this since… when? I couldn’t remember, but it didn’t matter anyway. All that mattered was the here and now, the smell of blood in the air, the taste of the escaping life energy, the souls of the wendigo freed of their afterlife existence to feed the hunger of their lord. I smiled as I danced, blocking one thrust of a sword to spin upwards, slapping the stallion in the face with a wing tip even as I brought my war scythe up through his belly and throat. The resultant spray showered his fellow who balked and stepped back, hesitating. His weapon dropped from his hooves, but it was too late. Far, far too late. His head slid from his shoulders and landed amidst the entrails of his brothers, his escaping soul feeding and nourishing my own. My hunger… at last… AT LAST! I felt complete, whole, and so alive! I could feel the song of the mountain winter welling up within me once again, singing with the sheer ecstasy of existence.

Silver light flashed in the corner of my vision.

“VELA!” Wasting no time I landed in a blast of white cloud and wind at the edge of the pool of silver light. It was a chamber of sorts, with what looked like a hot spring with steps leading down into it its otherworldly depths, down into a lake of pure shimmering silver light. Beside it a troop of grey unicorns ran down the steps and without hesitation into the liquid magic, until only one solitary figure remained. I knew him. I knew him all too well. “VELA!” I roared. “Stand and fight me, murderer!”

The pony paused, turned, and… smiled. With a casual toss of his head, Vela’s horn glowed, flicking something out of the control panel and held it up before him. “Too slow, Celestian!” he taunted. “Too slow!” With that he turned tail and ran into the light.

“Vela, you bastard!” Hatred seethed through my body and I poured all of my magic into my dive. Below me I could sense the magic faltering, flickering as it began to lose its coherence. Lost in my anger I barely noticed it, focussing instead on speed. I had to go faster! I had to-

“Fairlight! Fairlight, stop! STOP!”

Star Swirl’s voice was left behind unheeded. All conscious thought became secondary to the desire to reach the light and the stallion who was threatening my son. I had to stop him. I had to reach that damned creature and end him before he hurt those I loved. And I would do it. I had to do it! Around me the air roared, the bitter cold of the north adding to my terminal descent into the pool. Closer and closer now. I could feel it. I could taste it! It winked out, and then a split second later it was back, and I ploughed through it like a freight train through a glass window.

Sound ended.

Light ended.

Existence.

Mother? I could hear her calling to me from another world away, the words muted and unintelligible. I was alone, cold and afraid; a foal shivering in the dead of night. I had to wake up. I had to move and pull myself from the darkness and into the light. I had to… Oh, dear goddesses, what was…

Blearily I began to open my eyes. Images floating in and out of strangely coloured misshapen things, faceless beings staring at me from non existent eyes. I blinked them away, trying to focus, trying to stand. My legs slid out from under me and as I hit the dusty ground. Weakly I looked up into the yellow eyes of…

“Hello, ‘brother’.”

Vela’s sword pommel smashed into my head with all the subtlety of sledgehammer, sending me back down into the eternal darkness. There was no pain, only the sonorous ringing sound of the old school yard bell where my senses used to be. So, this is how it all came to an end, eh? Gods, what a pathetic way to die. Still, could be worse I suppose. Over the course of my life, and afterlife for that matter, I’d been in more near death experiences than was good for anyponies sanity, let alone my own fragile self. Fate seemed to enjoy torturing me, and this time was no different from any other. Unfortunately, rather than the blissful non-existence of oblivion I seemed to be trapped, hanging around in this endless dark nothingness. When my mortal body had died my soul went to the herd. After that, according to everypony I’d spoken to at least, ‘dying’ a second time sent you off on the wonderful pathway to reincarnation. Why the bloody hell anypony would want to go back and go through all of that misery again was, frankly, beyond me. You were born, endured a miserable bloody life of suffering, and then your final reward – death. How could anypony say no to that? To top it all off, ponies actually prayed and gave thanks to the gods for giving them life! Wasn’t that the very definition of masochism? Thank you for inflicting pain on me, master! More please! Gods, what a joke. And a sick one at that. But maybe the whole point of prayer wasn’t to actually ‘thank’ the gods, but was in reality a way to beg for a place in the herd in case they changed their minds and wiped us all out of existence because they become bored with their toys. Ha! You need look no further than the thestrals to see what occurred when that happened!

I was quite happy there for a while really, floating merrily in the emptiness of my own head. There was a joke about that last statement too, which for once wasn’t lost on a dullard like me. As fate would have it however, I was rather rudely awakened from my sleepy world of peace and quiet by a right little charmer with a bucket of water.

“Wakey, wakey.”

Nearly drowning on dry land is quite the experience, I can tell you. Coughing and sputtering, my nose burned horribly with the unexpectedly inhaled water. Abruptly my struggles came to a loud and sudden stop. Something was bound to my forelegs and, unsurprisingly, my hind legs too.

“I wouldn’t bother trying to use your magic,” the unicorn standing over me said quietly. “There’s a nullification field here which cancels it all out. Poof!”

“Hello, Vela,” I gasped past the dryness in my throat. “Fancy meeting you here.”

“Well it was so nice of you to accept my invitation I couldn’t rightly leave you to wake up all alone now could I?” The wendigo treated me to a toothy smile, “Pity you couldn’t bring your friend with you though. It would have been nice to have had an extra guest to appreciate all the hard work we’ve been putting in.”

“Hard work?” I gasped.

“Ah, ah, ah!” The stallion waved a hoof in front of my face, “No exposition, my half-breed friend. You’ve been watching too many movies.”

“So what, you’re just going to kill me then?” I shook my head and let out a short laugh, “You say I’ve been watching too many movies, Vela, when you’re acting like a stereotypical villain yourself right now. All you need is the maniacal laugh and you’re there, mate.”

Vela’s eyes narrowed dangerously as his mirth faded like morning dew, “You call me the villain? You?!” He turned full circle and threw his forelegs up dramatically, “After everything I’ve done for you, you still think I’m the bad guy?” Vela shook his head, “Honestly, Fairlight, I find you incredible. Really, I do.”

“What the hell are you gabbling about, stallion?” I jibed. “The only thing you’ve done for me is drop me off a mountain and try to have me killed by your goons. Those you haven’t murdered that is. Forgive me if I seem a little sceptical here, but from where I’m sitting you’re talking a right pile of absolute bollocks.”

“Am I?” Vela pulled up a chair and sat himself down. The room we were in was dark, lit only by several oil lamps which did nothing for the ambience. “I was the one who brought your powers back, was I not?” The corner of his mouth curled up ever so slightly, “Ah! Have your attention now, do I? Good. Very good. You see, Fairlight, I have known about you for a very, very long time. It wasn’t hard to find out about you either, since everywhere you went you left a breadcrumb trail of bodies that a blind goat could follow.” He chuckled slightly and floated over a pitcher of water from which he poured out a cup for himself, “Now, I wondered to myself: could I use such a stallion in my plans? After all, you have access to your wendigo spirit which is something that’s been denied to my people since the fall of the fortress. In fact it was thanks to that that you became the de-facto lord of the four winds in the first place. So I began to think to myself – could you be the one to bring us back hope? To bring us back the light where once there had only been the darkness of doubt, emptiness and despair?”

“Oh, come on!” I cut in. “You can’t seriously expect me to believe that. Where are all the big speeches about ruling the world and ending Celestia’s domination, Vela? Come on, out with it, you know you want to have a good rant. Even just a little one. Every lunatic with a thirst for world conquest can’t wait to-” A hoof slammed into my jaw, throwing me to the ground.

“Now look what you’ve done,” Vela said with a sigh. “Gambit, what did I say about hitting our guest?”

I peered up at the bruiser standing over me. I hadn’t seen him at first, lurking in the shadows beside the lamp. He looked like some mad scientist had got two stallions and welded them together after removing their brains and using them to bulk up their muscles more than they had already. ‘Gambit’ looked as dull as a bag of hammers, but ten times as dangerous.

“Looks like I missed a few of you then,” I said, spitting out a gobbet of blood. “I guess you can run faster than the others, eh, big boy?”

Gambit growled low in his throat, the threat of unleashed violence burning in his eyes.

“I really wouldn’t goad him like that, you know.” Vela shook his head, his supercilious grin wider than ever, “I saw him tear a Celestian’s head from his shoulders once because he looked at him cross ways.”

“Or maybe it was the only way he was likely to get some head?” I couldn’t help but chuckle despite my less than amicable situation, “It’s harder for them to object when you’ve got their full attention like that.”

Vela stood up, waving a hoof. “I like you, Fairlight,” he grinned, “you’re a funny guy. And a good sense of humour is something we could use in our ranks to help boost morale.”

“Your ranks?” I asked in surprise. “What are you talking about?”

“Join us!” Vela suddenly dropped to knees in a flurry of hooves, near sliding across the ground towards me. “Think about it. You can be what you were always meant to be, Fairlight. You may be a half breed, but you’re still a wendigo. Oh, I know we didn’t exactly get off to the best start you and I, but I think we can work past that.”

“Work past it...” I repeated incredulously. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing! “You murdered Clarion, Vela, or did you somehow forget that little fact?”

“Clarion was working for Maroc,” Vela replied calmly. “He was there to spy on my people and undermine everything we’d worked for. And did I try to kill you too? Yes. Yes, I did. Any why? Because I saw you as one of Maroc’s ‘goons’ as you so like to call my brothers. And yes, I knew very well you’d met with him and that puppet of the queen, Star Swirl the bearded.” Vela leaned towards me, his eyes reflecting mine like mirrors, “Did you know Star Swirl had been a brother of our tribe, Fairlight? Has it never occurred to you just how much he looks like one of us? Dear goddess, he’s even taken to wearing contact lenses to change his eye colour so those around him don’t associate him with his own people! And the best part? Do you really want to know what he did to us?” Vela slammed his hoof down, the anger in his voice barely restrained, “He betrayed us! He betrayed my family to the Celestians and gave our secrets to our enemies which they then used to butcher us all like we were nothing! NOTHING! My mother at least died on the field of battle, but my father was slain as he lay at the hooves of that evil monster when he was helpless and at her mercy.” His chest rose and fell in rhythm with his anger. “Have a guess how much ‘mercy’ the white witch showed us, Fairlight. Have a guess!”

“None...” I whispered.

“Exactly!” Vela shuddered visibly. “My life was saved by Herath, and after we escaped the massacre in the pass we went into hiding, planning how one day we would take back our birthright, our pride, and our honour. Be it in that world or the next. Yet even here, here in the world of the gods and goddesses, we are treated like lepers amongst the ‘perfect people’ the queen loves as her own children. But us? No. No, we are the unloved ones, the tainted, the impure.” He took a step forward, “Fairlight, I wanted you to regain your power to see if we could break the seal on our own magic. I used you, I admit. I saw you as expendable, an asset to use and throw away if things didn’t work out. But am I sorry for what I did?” He shook his head, “No. No, I’m not. For my people I would sacrifice anything to give them back their heart and their spirits that the gods have denied them for so long. And I will do this, whether you, Maroc, Star Swirl, or even the gods themselves stand against me. I will prevail.” For a moment he hung his head and looked away, “But I do have one regret,” he said quietly. “I regret harming you, and insulting you the way I did. I won’t ask you to forgive me, it is not in the nature of our people to forgive nor forget so grievous an injury. But I would ask that you at least consider taking your place beside your family, and stand with us.”

“And fight against Maroc?” I asked.

Vela shook his head, “No. That is my burden, Fairlight, not yours. I wish it were not so, but father would prefer our people to simply fade away without ‘upsetting’ the status quo of the herd. He has hated conflict ever since he lost the tribe and the fortress, as well as his family and life. It has consumed him, turning him into a stallion I barely recognise as the father I loved as a child.”

“And my son, Lumin?” I stood tall, tossing my mane despite my shackles, “What of him? Do you still intend to drain him of his magic?”

“Drain him of…?” Vela blinked in surprise, “Why would I drain a child’s magic?”

“Because he…” I couldn’t look him in the eyes any more. I felt like such a fool! I tried to rally myself, “Because he has strong magic and you would use him as a magical battery to draw upon so you can overthrow the royal family.”

The stallion placed his forehoof on his head, closed his eyes, and sighed long and low, “I’m not going to ask who told you that. I can probably guess.” He looked up at me, “The choice is yours, Fairlight. You can either trust a stallion who has played you like a fiddle for years, lied to you, stolen your wife and daughter - or believe what I tell you. I know you have no reason to do so, but I trust in your instincts well enough to believe you will make the right choice.” He turned to the meat mountain beside me, motioning to the shackles around my ankles. “Take them off for the goddess’s sake. He’s our brother. If he so chooses.”

“And if I try to escape?” I asked. “What then?”

“Then… we’ll have to do what we have to do, Fairlight,” Vela replied calmly. “You would do the same as the lord of the four winds. Traitors cannot be allowed to live, for the good of the tribe.”

“One last thing,” I said lifting a hoof. “Your wendigo tried to kill me back there, Vela. If you wanted me to help you, why would you make them do that?”

“They weren’t trying to stop you,” the stallion replied. “They were trying to stop the traitorous wizard from interfering with the portal.”

“They shot at me!” I protested.

Vela raised a knowing eyebrow, “And what would you do if a wendigo was trying to kill you? Wouldn’t you fight back?”

I opened my mouth to reply and quickly shut it.

The grey stallion reached the doorway at the foot of the stairs beyond. “I advise to you stay within the walls of the compound,” he called back. “The guardians here protect the city jealously, and any intruders are dealt with… efficiently. Beyond those walls only death awaits. Choose wisely, brother.”

Even as the manacles fell away, clanging onto the dusty ground, I felt nothing. All I could do was stare straight ahead in dumb silence. What Vela had said… I just didn’t know what to think. Everything he’d told me about Star Swirl rang true. I knew damned well that the old swine had been using me to further his own secret machinations right from the word go. It was because of him that Meadow had been able to use the groves where the berries grew, the places where the veil between the worlds was at its thinnest, allowing us to spend time together in defiance of the laws of life and death. But there’d been a cost hadn’t there? As much as we had loved each other, neither myself nor Meadow had been able to move forwards, and had remained locked in a virtual time trap between the planes of life and death. Star Swirl had been guiding that right from the beginning, using Meadow to pass information to me and to receive it in return. He’d even appeared with her on occasion, giving more precise ‘direction’ to me when he felt it was necessary. Of course, it had all been in the name of ‘helping’ Meadow and I. More likely it was helping himself, and as it transpired… helping himself to Meadow while he was at it. How long it had been going on for I couldn’t say. Meadow had been distant with me for some time now, particularly when I’d started going to those classes to help me ‘realign my mind body energy’ or whatever buzz words were the order of the day. But still, to have an affair? I’d trusted her implicitly, and yet… and yet she’d actually encouraged me to have a marefriend in the mortal realm hadn’t she? She’d approved of Tingles, even Shadow, and we’d even enjoyed time together. All of us. Gods, had Star Swirl been behind that too? Perhaps it was the grease on the gears of his moves on my wife. I could see it now, the way he would comfort her in her grief, all kindness and understanding. He would comfort her, offer an ear to her sadness, and whisper gently in her ear. It was alright, wasn’t it? After all, Fairlight had relationships with mares in the mortal realm, so she wouldn’t be betraying him in any way by simply enjoying the company of another stallion. The way time fluctuated between the realms meant it could be months if not years between visits in the groves, so what harm would it do? Fairlight would understand, and he couldn’t exactly object now, could he? That truly would be the pot calling the kettle black.

Oh, how delectable a situation this was for him! Star Swirl had planned the whole thing out from beginning to end, and even though he’d denied it, the truth of it all was laid out for all to see. And the truth was that I was still a puppet on the strings of my masters as much as I ever was. Even if I was more aware of it now than I had been, and even if I was determined to fight back against their control, I was as helpless as a fish in an anglers bucket. But could I be wrong though? I huffed, shaking myself off. It was true Star Swirl had helped me in the prison back there, but why? Did he actually care about me to the point he would risk his life to help a friend? Or was it because he could use me to stop Vela and his wendigo? Ah, but then Star Swirl had all but admitted that hadn’t he? He’d brought in Maroc to lean on me, he’d brought in my mother, my own mother of all ponies, to use emotion to manipulate me. He hadn’t given a flying toss about me at all, only about the furtherance of his own goals. And in that respect, how much different from Vela was he? Celestia had butchered my people like the death bringer of legend, and the wizard had been right there with her. Oh sure, he was nice and safe in the background while she was off on her genocidal excursion to the north, but he’d supplied her and her forces with weapons that made sure Nightmare Moon and her army was annihilated. Foals, colts, fillies, the sick, the old… and now I was helping the very one who had done that? So she’d given me the lands back that she’d stolen. Was I supposed to be grateful for that? Mountains with nothing but broken ruin and miles of deadly forest inhabited by beasts that could tear a pony apart in seconds. That land wasn’t hers to give back in the first place. It had been ours all along! Gods forgive me, what a fool I’d been. Sure, I didn’t trust Vela, the guy was a killer and had a megalomaniacal slant that could lead us all to disaster, but was he any better than Star Swirl? I suppose at the very least he wasn’t afraid to get his hooves dirty. By comparison, the ancient wizard must have been pristine. He never loaded the crossbow nor pulled the trigger, but he was the one who said where to point it and vanished into thin air while the deed was done. What happened to the actors on the stage when the play came to an end meant nothing to him. He was already writing the next script. And the next. And the next.

I clopped steadily up the stairs and into what passed for light here. Bloody hell, was that the sky?! Clouds in all shades of red, pink, blue and white, blended together into a slowly moving mass that leant an eerie reddy-pink glow to the scene around me. There was no sun, no moon, and only a singular glow that made my hair stand on end just standing there. I tried to channel a little magic, but Vela had been right. It was like there was simply nothing there. For a unicorn it was akin to losing a leg, but not that much different from having a hornlock on your head. A quick check revealed that no, my horn was indeed clear of any of those infernal devices. Vela, it transpired, could indeed tell the truth on occasion.

A wendigo walked past me and nodded, “Greetings brother.”

I blinked in surprise, “Greetings-” but he was already walking away.

For the first time since my rather rude awakening I took the opportunity to take proper stock of my surroundings, but what I saw made my already confused mind reel in helpless confusion. Dear Luna… Where the hell was I? I’d never seen anything like this place; not in any brochures, books, films… anywhere! I could see buildings though: lots and lots of buildings, all made out of the same multicoloured material on a general theme of pink which mirrored the alien light. It was absolutely extraordinary, and in direct sunshine must have been nothing short of spectacular, not unlike living inside a kaleidoscopic riot of pastel colour. Most of the structures were angular too, displaying an architectural slant towards a theme of squares, rectangles, and sharp angles apparently intended to emphasise the variations in the colour of the building materials which were now sadly muted in the eerie half light. Everything here had the feeling of emptiness somehow. Of abandonment. But not decay, I noted. Curiosity taking its hold on me I trotted up to one of the buildings and examined the arched window beside what appeared to be the front door. It, like the rest of the surrounding features, was cut not unlike the surface of a diamond, seemingly to showcase the inner beauty of the physical fabric of the building itself rather than the kind of perfectly smooth arch so typical of equestrian design. Gone were the flowing lines, the brightly ornamented chocolate box houses of your typical equine town. This place, wherever it was, was more akin to that seen in a city such as Manehattan, but even that had a certain ‘feel’ to it that was completely out of character to what I was looking at now. Good goddess, I half expected to see crystal trees from the Darklands here! They certainly wouldn’t have… They…

Oh, sweet Luna…

“I don’t think I’m in Equestria and more...” I whispered the words from the old film, and boy did they seem appropriate right then.

Crystal. There was crystal everywhere, and I mean everywhere. Fountains, statuary, buildings, public amenities, it was all here. I’d heard of this place, as indeed many ponies had, but it had all but dropped from what you might think of as the common consciousness and had become little more than a legend that occasionally popped up in novels and history books as a footnote. It was, in may respects, like the lost city of Atlantis where the fabled sea-ponies lived. If you could believe creatures like that lived somewhere other than in a foal’s imagination. Perhaps I needed to readdress my outlook on life. I had danced with thestrals, sung the songs of winter in the northern mountains on wendigo wings, battled armies of changelings beneath a green sky, fought with ancient dragons and travelled to a world where legends lived and breathed just as much as I was right then. Perhaps I’d better start believing in fairy tales. I was in one. In fact, I was up to my bloody knackers in it.

A large sign hung motionless above the door I had just exited from, declaring something in a language I was completely unfamiliar with. The feel of the place however was unmistakable. From the tall desk that ran the width of the room to the open ledger, ink pots and quills, to the notice board plastered in various documents that were all in that illegible writing. I knew what this place was. I’d worked in a watch station most of my adult life, and this one was no different. What was truly fascinating though was the abundance of statuary. It was so lifelike! There was one of a young mare selling flowers to an older lady in a huge hat whilst nearby a foal leaped into the now silent and dry fountain. A couple of young lovers sat on a bench beside a picnic basket, the mare leaning into her stallion with a faint smile on her face. Everywhere I looked there were more of them, one after another after another. A quick examination of the watch building revealed even more inside. They were all so realistic too, as if time had simply stopped moving for them and… I closed my eyes. You didn’t put statues on a chair in the back office, did you. You most certainly didn’t put one in the middle of going to the bloody bathroom either. What was more was that they were all in uniform too. Goddess preserve us. Whatever calamity had befallen these people had happened suddenly and without warning, with no chance for the poor ponies here to escape this most terrible fate. Like flies in amber they had been trapped here for all eternity, frozen at the very instant of death. Suddenly my heart rate began to increase. I didn’t like it here, not one little bit. This wasn’t a place for the living, it was a mausoleum, a city of the dead where ghosts lay in every crack and shadow, each window a face looking out at the living who had dared to defile their eternal slumber. Fear suddenly gripped my heart. I had to get out of here as fast as I could. If only I could reach my magic! If only I could-

“ARGH! Celestia’s fiery arse!”

“Fairlight?” The familiar grey stallion stared back at me in bewilderment, “Are you all right?”

“All right?!” Gods help me, my heart felt like it was trying to hammer its way out of my chest. “I just crapped myself, you bloody fool!”

The newcomer covered his smile with a hoof, “Sorry! I didn’t expect to see somepony walking backwards around a corner. Least of all you.”

“You could have said something instead of slapping me on the arse, for Luna’s sake!” I snorted.

Lyrin shrugged, “You were the one backing right into me when I was carrying fragile items. What else was I supposed to do?”

“Oh… I don’t bloody know!” I collapsed against the side of the building, breathing hard. “Bugger me, what the hell am I doing here?”

“The same as us I suppose,” Lyrin said absently. “We followed the boss through the portal and wound up in this place. I have to say though, I didn’t think you would appear the way you did back there in the prison. For a moment I thought our number was well and truly up.”

Without warning I spun round and grabbed the wendigo by his tunic, shoving him up against the wall. Lyrin gasped in surprise but kept his cool as I spoke, “Tell me the truth, Lyrin. What the hell happened in the mountains? Why did Vela kill Clarion?”

“Clarion?” The stallion swallowed, “He was one of Maroc’s spies, so far as Vela told me.”

“‘So far as Vela told you’,” I repeated a little sarcastically. “Which basically means you don’t know for sure, right?” I gritted my teeth, trying to keep my frustration on a short leash. “In other words, not one of you knows whether Clarion was really working for Maroc or not, and yet you just blindly accept everything Vela tells you. Didn’t you ever consider he could be lying to you?”

“Why would he?” Lyrin huffed. “Vela doesn’t tell me what he’s doing every minute of every day, Fairlight. For all I know he thought I was one of Maroc’s plants too.”

“It doesn’t bother you that he killed your friend?” I was incredulous, “He killed him, Lyrin, just like squashing a bug!” I banged my hoof into the wall for emphasis, “He tried to kill me too!”

Yellow eyes peered back at me. Lyrin’s expression was utterly unreadable but his words were as cold as the frigid air, “Fairlight, forgive me for saying this, but most wendigo are not like you. You’ve lived your whole life amongst equestrians. You’ve absorbed their culture, their values, even their ideals. How could you understand what it’s like to be one of the tribe when you have never lived amongst us? To us, our tribe, our people, are far more important than the life of one individual. It doesn’t matter that Clarion was my friend, what matters is that we survive as a people in a world where nopony gives a damn whether we live or die.” He closed his eyes and nodded slightly as if talking to a child, “I can’t expect you to understand. After all, you weren’t there. You didn’t see the endless killing nor the way the blood stained the snow and ran like a river through the rocks. You didn’t hear the screams of children and mares as they were cut down by the dozen. I saw them dashing foals against the rocks in front of their own mothers, Fairlight. I saw them shooting down the wounded and laughing as they did it. Your princess, your ‘Celestia’; she may be this great and powerful leader of love and light now, but she sure as hell wasn’t then. Of that you can be sure. Have you ever wondered why our people called her the ‘white witch’?”

“I don’t need a history lesson, Lyrin,” I replied letting him go. “I just want honesty. I want to know the truth.”

“You already know it,” he replied. “Or most of it anyway. Vela wanted to see you for himself which is why he pretended to be Taurs. Yes, he used you to get the egg of the Roc, but did he try to kill you? I don’t know, I was far too busy trying to get away without becoming the Roc’s next lunch.”

“What about Briar and Shade then?” I pressed. “Did killing them factor into his plans?”

“I can answer that.” Lyrin and I both looked round to see another blast from the past standing there like a sour faced statue that was, unfortunately in this case, very much alive and kicking. Herath, Vela’s right hoof, spoke to me in that monotone timbre I’d enjoyed so much the first time we’d met. “The thestrals acted without orders,” he intoned. “They were only instructed to capture the mare and the child in case you turned on us. As for what happened afterwards, you know more than I.”

I took a step back and faced him, “But you set me up for that blasted egg farce in the first place, didn’t you? You arranged the whole damned thing!”

“I won’t deny it,” Herath replied. “I did as I was instructed and carried out my orders to the letter. The egg was recovered, and now, we are here. You, are here.”

“And I bet that really boils your piss, doesn’t it?” I sneered.

“Why should it?” Herath asked calmly. “Vela sees something in you that only he can see. My opinion of you does not change that, nor should it. He is our leader, the son of Maroc, last lord of the tribe, and the hope for our people’s future. He is our only hope.”

He was a megalomaniac, more like! No. No, I wasn’t convinced. I couldn’t be, not after what he’d done to Clarion. There’d been too much death, too much deceit and dirty tricks going on for me to believe him. Or, for that matter, Star Swirl. Gods, what a situation. I was damned if I did and damned if I didn’t, stuck between a murderous idealist on one side and a scheming traitor to his own people on the other. Still, I couldn’t believe that Star Swirl was a wendigo. I mean, okay, he looked like one, what with the coat colour and eye colour and everything, but he had white hair and a white beard! But then... had it always been that way? And what was that about contact lenses? I’d brought something like that back from the human world that could change your eye colour, and what Vela said did have a certain ring of true to it. I just wished it didn’t. I looked up to see Herath walking away. What a little charmer.

“I’m sorry, Lyrin,” I said quietly. “Come on, I’ll give you a hoof.”

Lyrin sighed, shifting the equipment on his back and gave a half smile, “Thanks. I’m not so good without magic, so I’d be happy to accept.”

Oh, right, the no magic thing. Marvellous. “What’s with that?” I asked, lifting one of the packs onto my back. “Is there a nullification spell here, or is it the effect of the portal or something?”

“Nearly right on both counts,” Lyrin explained. “The master portal can be affected by magical interference, therefore they can be set up to produce a localised nullification field. The authorities here appear to have done just that. There’s signs warning you of it all over the place.”

“What, you can actually read that?” I pointed to the sign over the doorway to the watch office.

“Sure,” Lyrin said simply. “It says ‘customs and excise office. The language is old, but one our people still use in its written form, as well as equestrian.”

Well, it wasn’t quite the ‘watch office’ I thought it was, but I was near enough. “Is this place what I think it is?” I asked quietly.

“The Crystal Empire?” Lyrin asked. “It is, or to be more specific, its capital city and surrounding towns. Other settlements that were further afield such as the villages, ports and outposts of the empire still exist to this day, but most have changed so much they’re all but unrecognisable. It’s incredible to think that after all these years the capital city, the royal palace and most of the king’s people, are all still here. Thanks again, I might add, to your white witch.”

“She’s not ‘my white witch’,” I retorted. “I don’t give a damn about royalty, Lyrin. I only care about my family and my tribe.”

The stallion’s ears pricked up. “We are your tribe, Fairlight.” Lyrin’s eyes flashed as he faced me square on, “Or have you forgotten?” I stared at him as he continued, “We may be dead but we still have living relatives in the mortal realm who need our aid. And those self same relatives are also your relatives too, be it by blood or by creed. Mixed race you may be, but whether you like it or not you are still one of us. More so than one of those… ‘Equestrians’.”

“I suppose I should thank you for not calling me a Celestian, right?” I huffed.

Lyrin beamed, “I very nearly did. Old habits die hard, eh?”

I don’t know about nullification spells, but Lyrin’s smile had a magical effect on me. It was infectious, breaking through the fear that had gripped me only minutes earlier and calming my already tattered nerves. I’m not sure I trusted him exactly, however considering I was pretty low on options right then he was the nearest I had to a friendly face in this frightening world. And so, weighed down with boxes and packs, the two of us walked on enjoying each others company in spite of the silence of the dead city.

We entered one of the buildings and began to climb the winding stairs up to the top floor where we began to lay out Lyrin’s equipment. As he began to sift through the packs I took the opportunity to gaze out across the cityscape before me. I had a fairly good view from up here too, and I could see all the way from our vantage point to the magnificent palace at the centre of the capital. I’ll say this for the empire, they sure knew how to build a city. The roads were wide, perfectly straight, and were laid out like the spokes of a wheel, all centred on the palace which was doubtless also the governmental hub of the empire. Everywhere I looked the buildings had that same appearance of cut gemstones, all sitting there, waiting for the world to begin turning once more. The silence made my skin crawl despite the strange beauty of the scene. It was all so… clean, so well maintained, and yet… dormant. It was hard to understand how there was simply no life here. Everywhere I looked there were plenty of benches for weary pedestrians to rest their bones, well marked crossing places, parks, bridges, shops, even carts and taxi ranks. In fact there was everything a pony could ask for here, and more besides. All it lacked was ponies to make it come to life once more. And yet, there they all were: the statues, the frozen bodies all stopped in time in mid-stride, or simply sitting and enjoying the day with their family in the park. It was a scene that was both entrancing and terrifying at the same time. I leaned on the windowsill and sighed.

“Bit for your thoughts?” Lyrin asked.

I huffed under my breath, “I was wondering what had happened to all these ponies,” I said quietly, as if at any moment my voice could carry and wake them from the stillness of death. “To kill a city. To murder so many ponies…”

“Murder?” Lyrin stopped what he was doing and looked up at me curiously, “Oh, they’re not dead, Fairlight, they’ve been frozen by a wide area effect spell. Something like a temporal locking incantation, but one of exceptional power and complexity far beyond the ability of your regular unicorn. In other words: alicorn magic.” He placed several glass tubes down on the floor and scratched his head in thought as he moved them around, “I expect you know which alicorn we’re talking about.”

I did, although I doubt Luna would have simply sat back while her sister did all the work. Still, there was no way I was going to bring that up with Lyrin. The last thing I wanted to do was piss him off by insinuating his ‘Goddess of the moon’ had been involved in some horrific act from over a thousand years ago that was tantamount to a war crime. Not that you’d hear those words in anything written about the subject nowadays of course. It was a story as old as time itself, and the subject of more cheesy novels than you could shake the proverbial stick at. I suspected it was because so few ponies knew anything about the empire, and coupled with the lack of any substantial architectural remains, that made it the ideal setting for stories of ‘ye olde times’. In other words, nopony could pull you up on getting your historical facts wrong because nopony knew anything about what it was really like in the first place. And somehow I doubted Celestia or Luna would be especially keen to chat about the subject for the benefit of budding historians. I couldn’t blame them either. Who would want to admit ripping an entire city from the face of the planet, citizens and all, and then dumping them here into an eternal prison of time. It made my skin crawl just to think about it. I stared down at one of the statues. One was a young colt chasing what appeared to be his sister with a water balloon.

“My goddess,” I breathed, “they’re all just frozen like that? Petrified, like stone?”

“Uh-huh.”

“So for them, everything just stopped,” I reasoned. “One second you’re walking down the street getting your groceries, and then… boom.” I shook my head in saddened disbelief. “How could she do something like that?”

“I presume by ‘how’, you mean how could she morally justify what she did rather than the complexities of the thaumaturgical energies and spell matrices that were involved?” Lyrin clucked his tongue, muttering something about one of the tubes not being the right size before answering, “Basically she did it to stop King Sombra from laying waste to Equestria and anything else he couldn’t directly control. Can’t say I blame her given the circumstances. Erm... You did learn about this in school though, right?”

“You must be joking!” I laughed, “You’re lucky if they teach you anything that happened later than a week last Thursday, let alone actual historical events. The majority of historical information is buried in the depths of old libraries where hardly anypony goes any more.”

“But you knew about it,” Lyrin observed, “You realised straight away where you were, didn’t you?”

“Only because I was crap at everything else at school,” I snorted. I brushed a stray hair from my muzzle, “I hated that place, Lyrin. The children there used to make fun of me for how I looked all the damned time, and I was bullied mercilessly for years. For the sake of my own sanity I used to spend most break times in the library where it was quiet and I didn’t have to deal with the tossers outside. I suppose history was interesting to me as a form of escapism more than anything else. I never thought it might actually prove to be useful some day.”

“Our people know very little of this place too,” Lyrin agreed. “There are few ponies around from that time now, and those that are don’t like to talk about it.”

I nodded, “Yeah, I’ve met a couple.” I reached down and helped shift the empty packs out of the way so Lyrin had a larger workspace, “A doctor and a barber would you believe. One said he’d been an architect and had helped design this place back in the day.”

“That’s quite the career change,” Lyrin smiled. He screwed the last piece of tubing into place and nodded to himself, clopping his hooves together in satisfaction. “There! All done.”

“Um… What is it?” I asked staring at the curious assemblage of tubes, bottles, and gemstones. “I take it this isn’t a moonshine still we’re making here?”

“Ha! If only, my friend!” Lyrin clopped me on the shoulder, “No, no, there’s nothing you can drink at the end with this thing I’m afraid. It does work in a similar fashion to a still I suppose, but it produces something far more precious than mere alcohol.”

“Oh?” I said.

“Mmm!” Lyrin smiled broadly as he indicated the apparatus, “It’s what you might think of as the very essence of magic itself. This,” he explained holding up his hoof above his head. “It’s in the air we breath and the aspects of the area effect spell are woven throughout it all. If we can reach past the nullification field to collect a sample, pass it through the filter, we should be able to distil out a tiny fraction of that ancient magic which will then allow us to determine the elemental make up of the spell matrix itself.”

A shiver suddenly ran down my spine, “Lyrin… Why are we here exactly? Can Vela really bring our people back to the mortal realm? Can this magical distillation bring the dead back to life?”

The grey stallion shrugged, “I don’t know, but he seems to think so, and that’s good enough for me.”

“You think so?!” I was aghast, “You mean you guys risked entering Tartarus to find something that might not have been there, wound up here in the crystal empire, and you don’t even know if what your leader’s attempting will work?”

“You never know unless you try,” Lyrin reasoned dismissively. He put down the metal rod he’d been fiddling with and sighed resignedly, “Look, Fairlight, I can’t blame you for finding our ways hard to understand. You’ve not been around as long as we have, and perhaps if you had you’d be a lot more inclined to take risks than you do now. Sometimes… Sometimes we need to believe that out there, somewhere, there is a better world for us, our children, and our children’s children. Like you I have family, or more specifically in my case ‘descendants’, who are living in the mortal world and they’re living like caged animals, frightened to step out into the daylight and living in perpetual fear of discovery even a thousand years after the war ended. I have to do something to help them, Fairlight, because if don’t, who will? You? Vela? By the goddess, if only you knew what they were going through there! If you could see them, speak to them, look through their eyes, then I know your heart would feel the same as mine. They are our brothers, our sisters, but they’re more like prisoners than a free people, and what those ponies are doing to them is… it’s… it’s monstrous! I…” A look of pain crossed his face and he gritted his teeth, turning away from me. “Look, Fairlight, please, I don’t like to think about it. When I do, I… I just get angrier and angrier.”

I leaned forward and lay a hoof on his hind leg comfortingly, “Lyrin, I’m sorry. I won’t pretend to know what the wendigo truly experienced during the war and you’re absolutely right - how could I? Yes, I’ve seen fragments of that time from the inherited memories, but I wasn’t actually there, I didn’t lose anypony I loved or saw my home destroyed as I fought for my life. And truthfully, if I’d known about the ponies up north, if I’d been able to find them, then I would have gone to the ends of the world to bring them home.” I snorted, “Not that there is much of one for them now anyway. The fortress is in ruin, and the fragments of the tribe I have met are the descendants of the workers and non-wendigo warriors who moved into a failed holiday village.”

“I guess the world bucked us all well and truly, eh?” Lyrin smiled sadly.

I nodded, mirroring his smile, “Life sucks, my friend.” I clopped my hooves together sharply to try and break the atmosphere, “So! What now then professor?”

Lyrin chuckled and rolled his eyes comically, “We need to get a sample of the magic overhead. This is the highest point in the nullification field, and if we pass this tube through the top of the barrier we should be able to draw a small amount of the outside air into the filtration system. And that is where the real magic happens.” He tapped one of the tubes, “All we need is a drop or two and then it’s over to Vela.”

“He’ll be able to use that to get us back to the mortal world?” I asked.

Lyrin grinned, “I have no idea.”

I flopped back onto my haunches and sighed, “Well I hope he does. I don’t fancy spending eternity here with a bunch of statues for company, thanks very much.”

“In which case,” Lyrin shrugged, “you’d better give me a hoof so we can get things moving along, okay?” He passed me a length of rubber tubing, “Let’s get up on the roof and see what we can see.”

Oh for a pair of wings! The roof was easy enough to access I suppose, if you didn’t mind insanely narrow stairs that lead up to an equally narrow hatch. Thankfully I’d had the forethought to leave all my equipment and barding downstairs before venturing up here. And now that I thought about it, Vela had left all my things right there in the watch lock-up for me to just pick up on my way out. Did he actually trust me now, even after everything that had happened? For all he knew I could have grabbed my scythe and gone on the rampage, taking at least a couple of them down before they got me. Even without my wendigo powers I was fairly confident in my fighting skills, but… what would that have achieved? If I’d killed Vela I’d likely be dead too. Even if somehow I’d been able to overcome them all, I had no idea how to operate the portal to get home. Speaking of which…

“How did you know the portal would be working?” I asked.

“We didn’t,” Lyrin answered. He began to feed the tube up through the hatch and clamped it to a long thin probe. “We had an idea that there would be a back door into the empire from one of the master portals, but we weren’t absolutely certain any still existed. There was one in the fortress, but since we can’t get there that’s a complete non-starter. But we did hear from an off duty guard from Tartarus about the rumour of a master portal hidden inside the prison.”

“That’s a hell of a gamble you took there,” I said.

“It was.” Lyrin stood up, holding the probe, “But what what lengths would you go to save your people, Fairlight? Isn’t it worth risking your existence to give them a taste of the freedom you enjoyed when you were alive?”

I nodded slowly. He had a point, and I would be lying if I said I didn’t feel a similar desire to help the tribe. But even so, how many bodies was Vela going to walk over to achieve his goal? How many deaths was it going to take? “You killed the two guards to gain access to the prison, didn’t you,” I said quietly.

He didn’t deny it. “Unfortunate, but necessary,” Lyrin said, glancing over his shoulder at me. “We tried to sneak past them at first, but their hearing must be incredible. Before we knew it they were on us with weapons drawn, descending like silent death from the sky. The guards killed one of our number and maimed another before we managed to take them down. Vela was furious about that. He kept saying we’d ‘murdered the prophet’s children’ and that we’d have to answer to the goddess for our crimes. Personally, I kept well out of it.”

“The prophet?” Now that was a new one on me! “Who’s that when he’s at home?”

“Don’t know, don’t want to know,” Lyrin huffed, putting the finishing touches to the tubing. “There are some things I don’t ask about, and that’s one of them. Pissing Vela off by asking him too many questions is not a smart career move, Fairlight, and I suggest you remember that.”

“A friendly tip?” I asked with a half smile.

Lyrin shrugged, “One that keeps your head on your shoulders, yes.” He stood up and pulled out the legs of a long tripod which he then plugged the long brass probe into. “Right, let’s get this up there and we can go grab a cup of tea while it does its job.”

“What, that’s it?” I stared at the probe, “It looks like some sort of gynaecological equipment.”

“I’ll have to take your word for that!” Lyrin laughed out loud. “Come on, lend a hoof...”

Carefully we began to push the probe upwards, section by section. There was no wind here, but I didn’t like the look of that sky. Above the nullification field the peculiarly coloured clouds hung like waiting predators, watching over the silent land below. I couldn’t help but feel we were intruders here, poking around in somepony’s home, and that at any minute the owners might suddenly appear and catch us red hoofed. Vela had already said something about not venturing outside the walls where the nullification field apparently ended, but not why. The magic that had affected the ponies here hadn’t been stopped by the field, so what was stopping it from affecting us too? Bloody hell, the sooner I got out of here the happier I would be! Still, if getting home meant I had to tag along with Vela, then so be it. I didn’t have to like him or be his friend, but it wouldn’t hurt to ride the waves for a while and see where the current took me. Meanwhile, Lyrin and I hoisted up the next section, and the next, higher and higher until finally something happened. At first it was little more than a slight vibration passing down the probe, but then a faint buzzing, not unlike a fly hovering around your ear, began to emanate from the tube leading to the filter. There was no doubt we’d broached the barrier.

“Is this normal?” I asked, tightening the clamp on the probe.

Lyrin pulled a face, “I’ve no idea.”

“Eh?!” I felt another shiver run through the metal and down through the tubing, “I thought you knew what you were doing!”

“How many ponies do you think visit this place, Fairlight?” Lyrin snarked. “It’s not like there’s a ‘how to’ guide for the crystal empire out there! Most of what we know we’ve picked up from talking to ponies who lived here, or ancient fragments of texts which are half fact, half fantasy, and a hell of a lot of conjecture. But look where we are! We made it. We’re here!”

“So all this equipment...” I took a deep breath, trying to get my head around what I was hearing. “You got this based on a lot of hear-say evidence and just winged the rest. Right?”

“Pretty much,” Lyrin said happily. “We got the equipment from a supplier in the herd along with an instruction book. I’ve read most of it and it seems straightforward enough.”

“An instruction book?” I took a step back in amazement, “And you’ve read ‘most’ of it?”

Lyrin rolled his eyes, “There’s no need to sound so melodramatic. Here, look. It’s quite simple and well laid out so even a novice can manage.”

The grey stallion pulled out a crumbled booklet from his satchel and hoofed it to me. Sure enough, there on the faded and worn cover was an artist’s line drawing of the assembled equipment:

Fun with Thaumaturgy! (Ages 5 and up)

Distillation and Condenser Kit with Elemental Sampling Probe. De-Luxe Model.

Learn about magical auras, energy fields, and thaumaturgical compositions with this exciting new product from Lemony Sponge’s Fun Time Club range of beginners magical apparatus.

Join today and have 10% off your next purchase!

“We’re in the middle of the crystal empire’s capital city with equipment for five year olds...” I felt sick.

“Five and up,” Lyrin corrected.

I face hoofed, “And you’re sure this will work?”

“Mmm, yeah...” Lyrin nodded, “Fairly sure.”

“Oh gods,” I groaned, “we’re going to die...”

The grey stallion put a hoof on my shoulder, his face full of seriousness, “Well, look on the bright side, Fairlight...”

I looked up helplessly, “There’s a bright side?”

“Of course!” Lyrin leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper, “I’ve already got the club welcome pack. It came with three packets of chewing gum and a ‘two eat for the price of one’ at McPones. If we survive this I’ll get two free cinema tickets when I sign up a friend. So, what do you say?”

“What do I say?” I looked him in the eye and smiled. “You’re a loony, Lyrin,” I whispered back. “Stark. Staring. Bonkers.”

The grey stallion nodded, “It certainly helps.” Grinning from ear to ear, Lyrin clopped me on the shoulder and flopped down onto his haunches, shaking with mirth, “Welcome to the knife edge of madness, Lord Fairlight. Go directly to insanity, do not pass go, and do not collect two hundred bits.”

“Well at least there’s one thing,” I chuckled.

“Oh?”

I raised an eyebrow cheekily, “Yeah. I won’t be going round the bend on my own.”

“Just another glorious day in tribe, my friend,” Lyrin winked. “Just another glorious day.” In a flurry of tail and mane, the grey coated wendigo got up and headed for the hatch, “Let’s go and see if we’ve got a bite, eh?”

Down the steps once more, we reached the apparatus in time to see… something. Not being scientifically minded it was more guesswork for me, but it looked like we’d pulled in something alright. A pinkish glow, little more than a hint of colour, seemed to be working its way through the maze of pipes and tube work. Other than that, bugger all else was happening. This all felt very wrong to me though, as if we were missing something. I soon found out what as the smell of sulphur caught my nostrils.

“Nearly forgot!” Lyrin smiled, pushing a small oil burner under one of the flasks. “We have to get the gas flowing so we heat it up here first.” He pointed to one of the masses of tubes, “It gets drawn through here where we then pass it through the filter and then this part condenses what’s left. With any luck, and a little time, we’ll hopefully be able to get what we’re after.”

“Liquid magic?” I asked.

“Liquid magic,” Lyrin echoed.

The two of us sat and stared at the glass assemblage, mentally willing it to do something at least mildly interesting. So far though the faint amount of ‘gas’, as Lyrin called it, was doing the grand total of bugger all and sweet F.A. At one point one of the other wendigo walked in and left us a bag of nuts and seeds, some hard tack, and, more welcoming, a cup of tea each. I took a sip of the hot steaming brew and sat back with a smile; they’d even put a sugar in it too. You know, what I found so peculiar about all this is that I felt… well, part of it all I suppose. Lyrin and I seemed to be getting along remarkably well considering I barely knew him, and not forgetting the fact that the last time I’d spent any time amongst other wendigo they’d tried to bump me off. Or at least Vela had. But why the sudden change of heart? It was obvious he hadn’t seen me as any more than a half-breed who was a threat to his desire for domination of the wendigo in the herd, but… was I only seeing things in one dimension? Somepony had told me once that you didn’t have to like a pony to get along with them, but I imagine that they hadn’t really considering the other fellow trying to toss you off a mountain. It was strange. Very strange. I let out an unexpected yawn.

“Tired?” Lyrin asked, rubbing his eyes.

I nodded, “A bit. Lots of excitement, travelling to another world, and then sitting here watching fog in a pipe is enough to make anypony nod off.”

“Couldn’t agree more myself.” Lyrin stretched out his legs before pulling up his blanket roll, “You grab a few winks and I’ll keep watch on the gear. If anything happens I’ll wake you up.”

To say I slept well would be stretching the limits of imagination so thin you use them as cigarette rolling paper. Thankfully I was so worn out with the excessive usage of magic, the fighting, and the sheer stress of everything that had happened in the last few hours, I’d pretty much passed out the moment I closed my eyes. My earlier nap at the hooves of Vela and his mob hadn’t exactly been restful, but at least I managed to get enough sleep to recharge the old Fairlight body to the point where I wasn’t going to collapse on anypony. I was also feeling comfortably full from the food and my earlier… feeding. Where my magic was right now was another matter altogether. I had no doubt it was there, resting like the rest of my body, but simply behind a metaphorical door I had no key to. There were so many questions I wanted to ask of Vela and his crew, but even if I had the answers I wasn’t sure I’d know what to do with the information other than file it somewhere in the back of my already battered mind. Personally I was beginning to wonder if my tortured brain cells were up to the task at all. Eventually though it was the hard floor that took its toll on my ability to sleep and I woke up feeling like I’d been caught in the middle of a stampede.

“Sleep okay?” Lyrin asked.

I rubbed my eyes and took a swig of the cold tea I’d left in my cup, “Not too bad, really.” I was betrayed by the telltale groan that slipped out, resulting in a knowing smile from my companion. Sleeping on the floor was not something I was unused to as such, but it didn’t do much for my bones which ached in protest at my every movement. As if in sympathy with the rest of me, a rumbling down below reminded me that there were other more pressing matters at hoof, particularly when I was busily engaged in trying to cram yet more liquid into my already bursting point bladder. I stood up, “I need a piss.”

“Outside and round the back,” Lyrin advised. “There’s no running water here, so wherever you can find somewhere to go, go. I don’t think the locals will mind too much.”

Oh, goddesses… My eyes were sore with the crap from the dusty floor that must have gotten in them somehow, and I was aching from head to hoof, not to mention in desperate need of a good wash. Some of my last more ‘sentient’ meal still clung to my fur, coming away as rust coloured dust when I brushed it away. Being as my coat was grey, blood stains and the like didn’t stand out too much as a general rule, but the dark marks were still visible. Somehow I didn’t think I’d be getting a shower or bath any time soon though. And what was with this place not having any water? Surely there had to be some somewhere, right? Everything else was there, even the dead trees, dead grass, and… the dead plants. Lyrin had been right on the money. No matter where I looked there was no sign of any water here, and no water meant no life, and in a sense, no time either. I felt like I was walking through a graveyard, and one where the dead were stood there staring at you with unseeing eyes. What was going on behind them, if anything at all, didn’t bear thinking about. I could see the wall around the compound better now. It clearly wasn’t one intended for security, judging by its relative modest height and lack of any form of anti-intrusion topper. Instead it looked to be more of a demarcation for the staff, service areas, and the master portal itself. Ponies could see at a glance where the nullification field reached, and where the sovereignty of the empire began. Unfortunately for the poor souls caught in the spell when it had been unleashed, the field hadn’t saved those within its area of effect. In truth, I think they would have been glad of it too. Being stuck here in this city of statues, forever, slowly wasting away until dehydration, starvation and madness took you… Dear Luna, what a hell that would have been.

A shiver ran through my spine as I leaned my forehooves up against the long withered flower bed and let myself relax. I suppose I should be grateful it wasn’t raining, but here it was unlikely that it ever... Eh? I thought I saw something out of the corner of my eye. Probably nothing. The light here was awful and that carpet of dust was everywhere, kicked up with even the slightest of movements. It was a bit odd to be smelling doughnuts of course, but who was I to complain? My stomach began to rumble ominously in response to the delicious aroma and I smacked my lips on impulse. Quite creative chaps these wendigo, bringing stuff like that along. It would be a welcome change to dry boring old hardtack, that was for damned sure! One quick shake later and I was on my way to, hopefully anyway, a hot tasty treat. If I was quick I’d be able to pick up a couple for myself and Lyrin before the rest scoffed them all. Outside, food always tasted better for some reason, and I’d have to-

“Oops! Sorry!”

A white colt rushed past me laughing, a bag of donuts hanging out of the corner of his mouth as another chased him. I clucked my tongue irritably; bloody kids! Everywhere you went there was always one of the little buggers running under your hooves. He was lucky I dodged aside at the… last… minute…

I froze and looked behind myself slowly. There was nopony there, only the dust settling from where my hooves had scuffed the ground and the fading smell of hot, fresh, doughnuts. Suddenly the hair stood up along my spine and my backside felt like something had sunk its teeth into the warm yielding flesh. I could hear them, the voices on the very edge of hearing, as insubstantial as mist and yet carrying so much raw emotion it made my hackles go up in an instant.

Daddy?

Where’s mummy?

Daddy, I’m frightened! I want to go home!

DADDY!

That was it. I turned and ran like the bloody wind, my tail streaming out behind me in my desperate gallop to safety. Rounding the corner I nearly ran straight into two wendigo who jumped back in alarm as I hurtled past. It had only taken me seconds to reach the building where Lyrin and I had set up the equipment, but it may as well have been hours. I’d never been so frightened in my life! Never! My hooves scrabbled for purchase as I took the last corner far too fast and I nearly twisted a fetlock crashing into the door frame. But I didn’t care. I was inside. I was inside! The door slammed shut behind me with a deafening bang, quickly followed by the bolt being slid into place and shouts from upstairs. I took them two at a time, bursting into the room where Lyrin was sat upright, a sword held in his hooves.

“What’s going on?” he shouted, staring past me. “Are we under attack? What’s happening?!”

“I’m getting out of here, that’s what’s happening!” I grabbed my barding and pulled it on as fast as I could. Buckles, straps, pull them on, tighten them down. Next were the packs and panniers, satchels and bags. Weapons, check. Water, food, everything I had was-

“Fairlight, for the love of the goddess, what’s going on?!”

I didn’t pause, I didn’t have time to waste. Not now. “Ghosts,” I gasped out. “Lyrin, there are ghosts here. I saw two, but there may be more, I don’t know.”

“Ghosts?” Lyrin blinked in surprise, “There can’t be. The ponies here aren’t dead, they’re locked in a temporal stasis that-”

“There are ghosts, Lyrin!” I span round and grabbed him, “Can’t you understand what I’m telling you? This place is cursed! Damn it, can’t you see that? If we stay here we’ll end up like them: trapped in a frozen hell for all eternity! We have to get out! NOW!”

“There’s no such things as ghosts, Fairlight,” Lyrin intoned with that infuriatingly sensible tone of voice usually reserved for dealing with kids scared of thunderstorms. “It’s just a figment of the imagination. And in case you’ve forgotten, we’re kinda dead too?”

“Well tell them that!” I shouted, pointing towards the window. “I saw them, Lyrin. I bloody well saw them! So get that damned portal running and lets cheese it before we’re-”

The door downstairs began to bang. Over and over again. A low, steady beating that rolled through the quiet of the tower and gripped my heart as surely as a steel vice.

I looked at Lyrin.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

“Oh… Oh, gods...”

Thump. Thump. Thump.

“They’re here,” I breathed. “They’re bloody well here!” I grabbed my dagger and made for the top of the stairs. “I’m not going to let them take me. I’ll do myself first!” I took a deep breath, steeled myself, and charged down the stairs. “Okay, this is it. I have to do this. I have to get this over with...”

“Fairlight! What the bloody hell are you doing?!” Lyrin cleared the last step and slid to a halt beside me, “Get a grip of yourself, will you?”

“Then you open the door,” I huffed. “Let them in and we’ll see who goes down first.”

“You’re crazy!” Lyrin shook his mane angrily, “We can’t-”

Thump. Thump. Thump.

“You see?!” I shouted, “They’ve come for us! They’re here from beyond the grave to pull us down into damnation! We aren’t in the mortal realm or the herd, Lyrin. This place, it isn’t the empire, it’s hell! You damned fool, you’ve opened a portal to the underworld!”

“You’re insane!” Lyrin yelled. “We’re in the crystal empire. You’re letting your imagination run riot and you’re losing your grip on reality.”

I turned to face him, “Alright then. Alright…” I took a deep breath and slipped the dagger back into its scabbard, drawing my scythe instead. There was more room to manoeuvre down here anyway. “Open the door.”

“Open-” Lyrin swallowed, “I… I don’t know.”

“You’re the one who said there was nothing to worry about and that it was all in my imagination, Lyrin,” I reminded him, “so go on, open the damned door!”

Lyrin reached for the first bolt and hesitated. He glanced at me with a look of uncertainty on his face. He was unsure. Fear had begun to infect even him now, and I saw him reach back and check his sword was free.

“Open it,” I whispered. “We have to face whatever it is.”

“Luna preserve us...” Lyrin slipped the bolt back, looked at me, then reached for the second. I nodded to him, readying my weapon as the last piece of steel thumped back and the door latch clicked noisily in the quiet room.

I’ve seen many things over the years: dragons, wendigo, thestrals, sea monsters, manticores, to name but a few. Most of them I’ve variously beaten, survived, or otherwise run away from depending upon the situation. Ghosts on the other hoof, were in a different category altogether. As ironic as that might sound to the casual observer, especially coming from a dead guy, but I had a serious fear of the supernatural, and that self same fear was something I had fought to overcome ever since joining the watch. Black cats crossing your path, saluting magpies, avoiding walking under ladders – I had the whole kit and caboodle to deal with, and it was a character trait I had inherited from my mother. Why all this lunacy had been hammered into me was something I’ll never know, and wished to the gods I could have rid myself of. In this case however, what tumbled through the door was the last thing I expected. Rather than a monster, ghost, ghoul, or some other creature from the pit, it was… another wendigo? Dear gods, he looked like he’d seen hell unleashed.

“Amhar!” Lyrin rushed forward and grabbed the stallion as he toppled through the doorway, “What the hell happened to you? Fairlight, help me get him inside! Quickly!”

The stallion’s eyes rolled up into his head and he pitched forward, falling into Lyrin’s outstretched forelegs. The two of us quickly hauled him inside, bolting the door again behind us as we did so. It wasn’t easy moving such a dead weight, but we managed to manoeuvrer Amhar onto one of the blankets and propped him up as best we could. The poor guy was in rough shape too. I couldn’t see any outward signs of physical injury on him, but he was utterly exhausted and blowing hard from running far beyond his limits. Sweat poured from in sheets as steam rose from his saturated coat. Lyrin, ever the medical officer, was careful how much water he gave the frightened creature.

“It’s alright, Amhar, you’re safe now.” Lyrin stroked the weak stallion’s mane. “You’re with friends. It’s going to be alright.”

Amhar didn’t seem convinced, and kept drifting in and out of consciousness. When he was lucid he just kept shaking his head, trying to breathe in between gasping out what words we could understand. “The damned…” he rasped. “They came... out of the fog. I can… I can still hear the screams! I can still hear...” Lyrin cooed softly to the terrified creature, but nothing would calm this soul down so easily. “You don’t understand!” he shouted, grabbing Lyrin roughly by the collar, “They’re coming for us! We shouldn’t be here, and they know where we are! They’re coming! THEY’RE COMING!”

There was a sudden commotion outside: shouting, thumping, and then finally an urgent banging on the door. It was all too much for Amhar, the poor sod was bordering on the hysterical, and I think I was halfway there myself. Spittal flew from his mouth, his eyes wide and staring, “They’re here!” he shrieked. “They’ve come for me! They’ve come to claim us all!”

“Lyrin!” The voice from outside called out clear with familiar clarity. “Lyrin it’s Herath, what’s going on in there? Open the door!”

“NO!” Amhar screamed suddenly. “It’s a trick! They’re after our souls! They want our-”

Everything went quiet. I could hear my heart racing, the blood singing in my ears. Slowly, Amhar sank to the floor, Lyrin standing over him with a cudgel held in his mouth. “Sorry, brother.”

The bolts drew back and Herath and two others walked in, weapons at the ready and eyes taking in every detail. “What the hell’s going on here?” Herath looked down at Amhar, then to me, and finally to Lyrin and the cudgel. His monotone voice never changed, “I think we need to have a talk.”

******************

Amhar slept peacefully in the corner of the room, watched over by one of the wendigo who was standing by with water, cloths, and a bottle of painkillers. Poor bugger, he’d wake up with one hell of a headache in a few hours. Beside us more of the wendigo sat around variously staring at the equipment, talking amongst themselves, or engaged in other more typically equine pursuits like scratching an itch or trying to catch a few winks. In a short few minutes our small room had quickly become packed with members of Vela’s contingent. I’d counted approximately twelve of them at the outset. Three had been killed in the fighting in Tartarus, there were nine here including Lyrin and I, but from what I could gather there were two more with Vela. Judging by the sound of clopping hooves on the stairs, the head honcho himself was coming to join the party.

“Herath?” Vela quickly took in the scene and nodded to his lieutenant.

Herath clopped his hooves together, “All of you, leave us.”

I got up to leave. “You and Lyrin can stay,” Vela added. “The rest of you keep together in the reception hall and don’t leave the compound under any circumstances.”

I sank thankfully to my haunches, relieved that I didn’t have to go outside again. At least for now anyway. My pulse rate was still a little on the high side, but with the others here I could finally concentrate of my breathing and bring myself back under some semblance of control. I’d rarely experienced anything like that in my life, and it was something I did not fancy ever encountering again. Monsters, dragons, changelings, randomly assorted dangerous creatures and assassins, I could handle. Ghosts however, did not feature anywhere on my mental ‘To Do’ list.

“Lyrin, bring him round,” Vela commanded.

Lyrin glanced at Amhar before replying to his leader, “Vela, it’s dangerous to-”

“Bring him round.”

Vela stepped forward, watching while Lyrin reached across to hold smelling salts under Amhar’s nose. Slowly I saw the poor fellow’s eyes flicker, his muscles twitching, and then in a jolt he was sat bolt upright. The stallion took a huge intake of breath, his eyes wild and staring the same way we’d seen when he’d first appeared in the doorway. Fear radiated from him so intensely it made my neck twitch just to look at him.

“Amhar. Amhar listen to me.” Lyrin pulled the frightened stallion round to face him, “You’re safe now. You’re with your brothers, and you’re safe in the compound. Do you understand? Everything’s all right now.”

“I… It’s not.” Amhar slowly shook his head, his eyes never leaving Lyrin, “They’re going to come in here. They’re going to take us too! One by one. One by one. One by one. One b-”

Suddenly Vela grabbed the stricken creature and shook him like a rag doll, “Amhar, get a grip of yourself! What happened out there? Did you recover the object? Where are Kyrna and Wythe?”

Assaulted with questions, it was a miracle Amhar managed to answer at all. “We… We followed the map as… as you said.” He took a drink from Lyrin and swallowed it gratefully before continuing, “We found the heart, but it’s surrounded by magical barriers unlike anything we’ve ever seen. Kyrna wanted to touch it, but… but something happened.”

“What? What happened?” Vela pressed.

Amhar shook his head, “I… I don’t know. I don’t know!”

“It’s okay, Amhar,” Lyrin soothed. “Take your time and tell us your story. There’s no hurry. You’re safe now, remember?”

Amhar nodded and gave a weak smile, “There was a sudden burst of noise, like static, and then everything seemed to shift slightly before snapping back into place.” He frowned, “It’s difficult, I don’t know how else to describe it.”

“Was there anything else?” Vela asked. “Any other sounds? Smells maybe?”

“No,” Amhar replied more confidently, “just the static sound and the feeling of the world moving around us for that split second.”

Vela nodded, “What happened next?”

Amhar closed his eyes, “We decided to leave the heart and try for the second objective. It was on the way so we thought we could come back and have another look at the heart after securing the staff.”

“Staff?” I asked.

Vela waved off my question, “Amhar, did you find the staff?”

“We found it,” he said quietly. “It was exactly where the old stallion said it would be.”

“Do you have it?” Vela asked quickly. “Is it here?”

Lyrin shook his head, “He didn’t come in with anything.”

Vela spoke through gritted teeth, his frustration clearly mounting, “Where is it, Amhar? Where is the staff?”

“We dropped it,” the stallion replied. “We had the thing within reach. Wythe tried to levitate it off the stand where it sat, but he must have triggered some sort of security spell. We heard a voice, a really loud voice in a language I didn’t understand, but before we could do anything he… he…” Amhar swallowed, “He turned to dust.”

“He turned to dust?!” I gasped. “That’s some bloody security spell!”

“Flash fire incantation,” Lyrin replied, checking Amhar’s pulse as he did so. “We came across them during the war. Nasty little things, and barely detectable too. Instant incineration. Probably a hangover from the empire left there to protect the staff. I’m impressed it lasted this long.”

Vela continued his questioning, “What happened then?”

Amhar shuddered but accepted the extra blanket from Lyrin with a smile. The cup of tea warming him up seemed to be doing the trick too. “Bells,” he began, “Loud, deafening bells, so loud they blocked out all other sound. It affected Kyrna the worst. He emptied his bowels right then and there, so I grabbed him and the staff and ran for the door.” He paused, his gaze slipping to the floor, “That was when the fog began to appear. That was when they came for us.”

“Who came for you?” Vela pressed. “Who, Amhar? Celestians?”

“The spirits of the city,” the stallion replied quietly. “The guardians of the empire.”

“What’s he talking about?” I asked. “I heard you say something about guardians earlier. Are there guards here like in Tartarus?”

“Not living ones,” Vela explained. “We read about the guardians from the old texts, but it was hard to translate properly and large portions were missing. We’d thought they were something tangible: alarms, traps, perhaps even golems and the like, but I’m not sure about this.”

“Something left behind by the witch, perhaps?” Lyrin offered.

“Perhaps...” Vela reached over and patted Amhar’s hoof, “Amhar, please, tell us what happened next.”

“I… I ‘felt’ them before I saw them.” Amhar’s neck shivered as he spoke, “It was like a drop of ice water running down your neck on a hot day. Like a ripple on a perfectly still pond. They… they moved in the fog - outlines of ponies, shapes, and… and silent. Utterly silent. We ran for the door, but everywhere we turned they were in front us, and they were getting nearer and nearer.” He took a slug of his tea, clinging onto his cup like a life raft in a storm at sea. “Kyrna tripped on something in the fog, and… and they… they enveloped him. I could see his eyes. I could hear his screams! They carried him away, leaving only… only his cries behind.”

“What did you do?” I asked.

“I ran.” Amhar swallowed and squeezed his eyes shut, “I took the staff and I ran, but in the fog I couldn’t see where I was going and I hit something: the door frame, a loose floorboard - I’m not sure. The next thing I knew I was falling down the stairs head over tail, and the staff was gone. Kyrna was gone. And those… those things were coming after me again.” He took a shuddering breath, “I knew they’d follow me. I knew they’d come after me here.” His eyes went wide again, his breathing quickening. “We shouldn’t be here, Vela. This is a world where the living rest and the souls of the dead are not welcome. They want us out and they’ll lock us away for eternity if they catch us. We have to get out of here. We have to get out of here now!”

Vela glanced at Lyrin, “Well?”

“Blood pressure and heart rate are heightened. Dilated pupils, excessive sweating and palpitations. He’s not delirious,” Lyrin replied calmly checking his patient, “but his nerves are at breaking point. I can’t see any signs of any actual physical injury, but whatever happened to him was enough to frighten him near witless.”

Vela turned away from Amhar and addressed me next, “And I believe you saw something?”

“I saw something alright,” I replied calmly. Or at least as calmly as I could after hearing what Amhar had been through. “I saw what looked like children running through the street. And it wasn’t just that, there was the smell of doughnuts in the air. Freshly baked too. I thought it was you guys making something.”

“Attracted by the smell of food,” Vela sighed with a shake his head. “How very Equestrian.” I bit back a sarcastic reply but Vela had already turned his attention to Lyrin. “Thoughts?”

“My educated guess would be an alarm spell,” Lyrin offered. “Either one left behind by the crystal empire ponies themselves to deter thieves or by the white witch herself. Personally, due to the material degradation of the spell matrix over the last millennia or so, I believe it more likely to be the product of alicorn magic.” Lyrin reached into his bag and took out a bottle which he tipped into a cup before passing it to Amhar, “The witch used a variety of spells in the mountains after she had slighted the fortress to cover her crimes. The fog and the fear inducement magic there appears to have been replicated here. As for the ‘ghosts in the fog’, I suspect they are constructs of alicorn magic used to locate and suppress any intrusion into the city.”

“And to counter this?” Vela asked.

“No idea,” Lyrin replied simply. “Without knowing the precise location of the spell’s initiation point or being able to assess the particular harmonics of its matrix, we would be as babes railing against a hurricane. I’m afraid this will require magic beyond anything a normal unicorn can conjure, Vela. Although...” He raised an eyebrow, “we do have one amongst our number who has the strength to brave such a storm. Should he decide to lend his aid of course.”

I closed my eyes and chuckled under my breath. I knew what was coming next.

“Do you wish me to ask you, Fairlight?” Vela lifted his head, “I would not have asked for your answer so soon. However, as you can see, events have overtaken us.”

I smiled softly, leaned back on the wall, and gazed up at the bare ceiling. The answer had been in front of me all along, but only now was it revealing itself. Little by little, piece by tiny piece, the puzzle was beginning to form a picture in my mind. The game was well underway, the pieces moving as they always did, and the players were watching it all with fascinated eyes.

“What do I need to do?”

Chapter Nineteen - Ghost of the Empire

CHAPTER NINETEEN

GHOSTS OF THE EMPIRE

Outside the compound the city looked little different in the general aspects of its architecture. The now familiar multi-faceted crystal was everywhere, broken up occasionally by gold, silver, occasionally a touch of marble here and there to accentuate the more prominent features, but when your basic building material was so beautiful, anything else only made it look tasteless and vulgar. Gone now where the plainer functionary buildings of the excise and customs offices, replaced instead by grander, taller, and more intricately carved homes, shops, bathing houses, and all the other trappings associated with life in a grand city such as this. This place, this incredible city, was straight out of the pages of a fairytale, and yet empty of the one thing that made it what it was – life.

Vela was back at the compound with Lyrin, trying to coax more of the distillate from the probe on the roof. What they were going to actually do with it was something I hadn’t asked, and also something my wendigo friends had decided not to tell me in any case. Still, I had agreed to help them despite my reservations. My reasons however, I kept to myself. For now. Amhar we had decided to leave behind too. That stallion was a mental train wreck, and I suspected it would take quite some time for him to recover from what he’d experienced. I’d seen far too many like him before, both in person and in the tribal memories. The expression on their faces, the looks in their eyes and the anguish in their voices, never changed. Ten years, a hundred, a thousand… suffering never changes. Despite all our advances in science, thaumaturgy, education and medicine – had we really progressed as a society? As a people? I doubted there was much a pony from the days of the four tribes would see that was all that different from today’s world. And now here I was, running into danger like a fool. I never learned either it seemed.

There was something else though, something that I’d noticed the moment I stepped outside the nullification field. Magic. It hit me almost immediately: a cold, refreshing, and incredibly vibrant energy that flooded into me with so much force it nearly took me off my hooves. After being apart from it during my time in the compound I nearly neighed with the sheer joy of it filling me once more. I could feel the spirit of the wendigo within me, for once compliant and unexpectedly willing. I think the others could sense it too, and despite the trepidation about following in the hoofsteps of the previous party we moved on with a will and a lightness of step. I was travelling light too, my weapons strapped in place over my barding and carrying only one set of panniers – the ones Briar had repaired for me. Call me sentimental, but I had a good feeling about keeping such simple things close; a kind of comfort if you will. I’d been like that as a colt too. When I’d received gifts of novelty soap, chocolate or the like, I would never use it. Instead, I would keep it in its box, displayed for all to see - or just me. Mum thought it was strange, but then she probably thought a lot of things were strange. Never herself of course, but that was something you just got used to after years of living with somepony.

Our hooves clattered over the cobbled road, echoing off the buildings and sounding unnaturally loud in the deathly silence of the city. Ahead of us the palace loomed over it all, tall, majestic, and almost blending with the sky in the murky blend of pastel colours. Pinks, blues, reds… It was what I would imaging taking a trip through the lower intestine would look like after a bad night out on beer and curry. In short, it was stomach churning. I gave myself a mental shake and tore my eyes away from the sky. Staring straight ahead certainly helped, but you still knew the sky was there, hovering over you as if alive… and watching you. Lyrin had said the princesses had torn this whole city, Sombra and all, from the land of Equestria and locked it away in a ‘dimensional pocket’ or something. If I didn’t know better I’d swear that stallion was Star Swirl’s long lost twin, and the gods know that with everything else that had been going on it wouldn’t have come as that much of a surprise either. Doctor, scientist, soldier; was there anything this guy didn’t have his hooves in? And now that I thought about it, how come he wasn’t the stallion calling the shots? He seemed to know a damned sight more than Vela about what was going on and didn’t have the personality of a pissed off boar either. Fortunately he’d given our merry little troop the map Amhar had been using, and I had a good idea whereabouts the poor sod had dropped the staff too. I’d kind of expected Vela to go berserk and have him filleted then and there like villains were wont to do. But to my surprise he hadn’t. He didn’t strike me as the forgiving type either, especially after what the swine had done to Clarion, regardless of his perceived justification for it. It was just his eyes that gave me pause. They were full of resolve, a righteous belief in what he was doing. This guy was the real deal alright, he truly believed wholeheartedly in their mission, and I doubted anything could change his mind nor alter the course he was on. And rightly or wrongly, I was part of this now. The least I could do was see it through and go where the winds of fate blew my sorry bones next.

There were six of us altogether, including myself. Lyrin seemed to think I was going to be of some use to them in fending off the ‘guardians’ but personally I had my doubts. Even with my wendigo magic it was impossible to tell what I could do against… no, not ‘ghosts’, ‘magical traps’. Yes, magical traps, that was more like it. They were traps meant to frighten ponies away or, as one of Amhar’s party had discovered, far worse. We’d encountered magical traps ourselves in the watch of course, but usually only when we were raiding a major drug dealer’s, searching for contraband, weapons - that sort of thing. But then there was that time we’d come across the notorious ‘collector of fine antiquities’. From what his widow had told us, his father had been an adventurer and had brought back a lot of odds and ends from his explorations across Equestria and beyond. Unfortunately for the son not everything daddy had brought back was benign, and there had been something in the collection that had turned the poor bugger into jam. His wife, a unicorn, had felt a strange magical build up in the seconds before her husband’s death, and that was what had prompted her to check the basement. That was when we were called in. Hubby had been liberally sprinkled across the hoarded exhibits, the epicentre of it all an innocent looking little note book with a simple silver crescent moon embossed on the cover. Our magic detectors went off the chart when we moved near it and we took the only sensible course of action we could: we got the hell out of there and called in the CBI. The suits were all to happy to take over that little treasure trove, and personally? I was glad to put it out of my mind. Historical artefacts I may find interesting, but the possibility of being blasted into particles you could spread on your toast in the morning was more than enough to douse even the most fervent of history buffs. If only our victim hadn’t have been an earth pony he may have realised something was up. Still, it posed the question – how come dad didn’t get minced? Who knew? One of the things I’d learned over the years was that spell matrices could be tuned so they were activated only by very specific triggers. It could be anything from a particular time and date, the proximity of a member of a particular species, or even somepony within range wearing a certain coloured sweater. It was entirely down to the creativity of the spell’s maker, which only served to make them all the more terrifying. Hadn’t there been that whole floating tangerine business down on fourth and twelfth street? Yes… yes, I remember now. The owner had employed a young unicorn filly who he’d tried to dally with. After she’d spurned his advances the sour old swine sacked her and then the next day, when he’d opened up the shop, he’d been attacked by his own fruit. Not only that, but an entire consignment of tangerines that arrived began to float away and throw itself at passers-by including the mayor of the city who got one right in the eye. The unfortunate shopkeeper had been prosecuted for public endangerment, but as for the filly, rumour has it she was whisked away to ‘Celestia’s school for gifted unicorns’. And that, as they say, was that. A neatly closed case with only a few brain cells required.

Coming back to the present, we’d reached the point where the tracks we were following from the previous ‘expedition’ diverged. The leader of our band took out his map and waved me forward, “I want you up here with me from here on in,” he announced. “If you have the power to change into your wendigo form, I would suggest you do it now.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” I asked. “It’s entirely possible the use of magic could attract the guardians, and who knows how sensitive these traps are. Personally I’d rather just keep it to hoof in case we need it later.”

“You can detect traps passively?” he asked.

“Some,” I answered honestly. “The best way to do it is by feel and the old fashioned way of watching where you step. From what Amhar said the staff was taken away from its original location, so I’m hoping the alarm spells will have reset themselves.”

Another wendigo stepped up, “I think he’s right, Irtha. If we use active magic in this place it could be like sending up a flare announcing our presence.”

And then something amazing happened. Irtha, our leader, said something I never thought I’d ever hear, “Agreed. Fairlight, you have watch experience, yes?” I nodded. “Good,” Irtha continued, “Stay up here with me and let me know if you pick anything up. The rest of you keep together. Any movement, sound, magic, anything at all, you speak up immediately. Understood?” Everypony nodded. “Let’s move out ponies.”

I couldn’t keep the look of shock from my face. Who the hell was this guy? Every time I’d dealt with ‘leaders’ in the mortal world, or even in the afterlife for that matter, I ended up dealing with some cock who always thought they knew best. The results were usually a right frigging disaster too. This trip out was beginning to get more and more interesting for, I hoped, all the right reasons.

“We’re not trying for the heart first?” I asked.

Irtha shook his head, “Not from what Amhar told us.” We set off again, heading away from the palace square. “We’ve altered our plans to target only the staff,” he continued. “We can always come back to the heart later if need be, but I’m not risking coming back with nothing.”

I had to admit, he had a point. Still, I would have liked to have seen this ‘heart’ thing they’d been talking about. I had presumed from the tales that it was more of a metaphor for the centre, or the ‘heart’ of the city. In other words, the palace. From what I’d been able to glean from listening to Lyrin, Vela and Amhar, it was in fact some kind of actual physical artefact. What it was and what their use for it would have been, who can say. Right then I was trying to keep my focus on the road ahead, the empty buildings around us, and to not dwell on the empty stares of the innumerable statues frozen at the moment of going about their daily business. One however, struck a chord with me as we trotted by. It was a theatre. Even over a millennia old the design of the huge building was unmistakable as to its purpose. It was tall, with large arches lining the frontage with equally grand steps leading towards the open double doorway. As if that wasn’t enough of a clue then there were the dozens of carriages parked outside, the taxi drivers helping down the ladies, the ridiculous dresses, the obscenely oversized hats, the pretentiously suited stallions, and of course the bored looking children who were only interested in stuffing themselves with treats. It was all here. The only thing missing were the dozens of lit lamps, the music spilling out onto the pavement and the ticket touts trying to fill the last few remaining seats. Memories of my night at the theatre jostled for attention in my mind, demanding I sit through them as I had had to sit through the original performance. Well, the part I actually had managed to sit through before I’d ended up emptying my guts into the sodding toilet bowl anyway. That’s not to say there weren’t parts of it I did enjoy of course. The part about the wendigo was genuinely interesting, and even if it had been mostly fantasy, there was usually some kernel of truth there. What was his name again? I couldn’t quite remember, and now my horn was starting to play up too which only… Uh,oh.

“Hold up!” I held held up a hoof as we came to a halt.

“What is it?” Irtha said quickly. “A trap?”

“Not sure,” I said quietly. “My horn’s itching. There’s a magical field nearby. Can’t you feel it?”

Irtha closed his eyes, “No. I can’t feel... Wait. Yes, there is something there. It’s faint, but… damn it, it could be anything.”

Two of others chimed in, pointing towards a low building that I wasn’t surprised to see had several sets of hoofprints leading though the dust to the main entrance. Worryingly, only one set came out. I took a breath, “This is it boys. How do want to play it, Irtha?”

“I think you’re the one with the most experience in these things, Fairlight.” The stallion took a breath and smiled, “Personally, I’d run in, grab the staff, and run the buck out of there as fast as I could. I’m guessing you’d do things differently though?”

“Not really,” I said with a shrug. “In an ideal situation I would’ve sent at least one in who didn’t have magic since earth ponies are less likely to trigger magical traps, but since we’re all unicorns that options out.” I scratched my chin in thought, “I’d like to think that the traps have already been triggered and won’t reset themselves, but since this magic is a lot different to the anything I’ve ever encountered we’d be wise to assume that they’re all still live. Personally I’d use the two ponies I trusted the most to maintain their self control and not use magic unless as a last resort. The rest I’d keep outside to keep an eye out for trouble. The first sign of danger and we get the hell out of here. We can always rethink our strategy if we’re still alive. When you’re dead, you’re a bit short on available options.”

“Understood.” Irtha glanced at his team and then to me, “You and me then?”

“Sounds like a plan,” I smiled. “Let’s do it.”

Walking inside the building was strange to say the least. Not so much because of the unusual surroundings, nor even the multitude of lab coated ponies sitting behind desks or carrying clipboards frozen in time like the rest of the populace, but rather the fact that it was so unnaturally cold. I could see my breath in here, and if that wasn’t alarming enough there was also a peculiar sensation of what I can only describe as ‘energy’, hanging in the air. I’d noticed it the moment we passed through the doorway. Whatever it was made my hide prickle uncomfortably.

“You feel that?” I whispered.

Irtha, following behind me in single file nodded, “Like we’re being watched?”

“Bugger me...” I took a breath and shivered, motioning to the trail of hoofprints, “At least we know where our ponies went.”

“Second floor, research and development department,” Irtha intoned.

“You can read that?” I asked, noting the small sign with the arrow beside the staircase.

Irtha shrugged, “Some of us still used it when I was growing up,” he answered quietly. “Not much call for it nowadays though.”

I nodded my understanding. Gods, what I wouldn’t give to have a week here poking around and nosing into the world of the empire! Of course, being turned to ash by ancient traps was a bit of a turn off, but the call to adventure was one that I’d never really lost despite being a bit more of a miserable sod these days than I was when I was a youngster. Girding my metaphorical loins we trotted up the stairs, following the numerous scuffs and scrapes that looked like somepony had raced down them at a dangerously high speed. Considering the state Amhar was in when he’d got back to the compound, there were no prizes for guessing who the prints belonged to. Risking a broken leg the way he did spoke volumes to what the poor bugger had seen here. It sure as hell didn’t do much for my state of mind either.

We reached the doorway to the first floor and cautiously peered inside. The strange light of the city flooding through ancient windows illuminated the interior, hi-lighting the forms of various ponies sat at desks covered in paperwork or otherwise carrying on with the more mundane tasks associated with office work. It looked to be more administration than anything else, and the hoofprints entered here before coming back out and heading off upstairs. These were unhurried, and very different to the deep gouges that lead back down the way we’d come. We decided to skip this floor and keep heading up. Sure enough, the next flight took us to an area that had my horned itching furiously. Something didn’t seem right at all...

“Amhar said he dropped the staff at the top of the stairs,” I observed. “I can’t see anything. Can you?”

Irtha shook his head, “Not a damned thing. There’s no sign of a struggle here either.”

I had to agree. I leaned down and checked the floor. “Three pairs come in, one comes out. Gotta be Amhar’s.”

We exchanged a silent look which said more than words could at that moment. Something was wrong, and we could both sense it now. Magic field or not, there was a feeling creeping through me that I hadn’t experienced since my days in the watch. It was the thrill of the investigation, the hunt for clues and evidence, the motive… and the victim. Dear goddesses, was that what was happening here?

I clopped my colleague on the shoulder, “Irtha, stay close. Don’t touch anything, and don’t use any magic for Luna’s sake.”

Irtha nodded, “Understood.”

The next room was a different animal altogether from the previous one. The sensation of something ‘energetic’ hanging in the air was stronger now, so strong in fact that I could almost taste it with every breath I took. And the cold! Thank the gods we were wendigo, or else we would have been running the risk of hypothermia merely by walking into this damnable place. I almost expected to see ice, or at least frost, lining everything around us. But there was nothing. For all intents and purposes it looked like the room downstairs, as if time had simply stopped during a normal day at the office. I tossed my mane. Magic. It had to be.

We moved slowly into the dimly lit room, past the rows of desks, past the ponies leaning over various experiments, stacks of paperwork, and what looked to be numerous scientific projects the purposes of which I wouldn’t even begin to speculate at. It was like a waxworks, and I’d never liked those bloody places to begin with. I’d gone to one with Meadow when we’d been on holiday in Fillydelphia. According to the tour guide the place had been based on the life of some nutty old lunatic who’d been around during the war with the Legion. She’d made wax sculptors of Nightmare Moon’s executed victims for some bloody sick reason. Thankfully there were no severed heads staring at us from the past when we’d gone, and instead it was all modern politicians, singers, actors, and of course ‘Sun Butt and Loony’ themselves. Even Nightmare Moon had been depicted in very her own ‘hall of villainy’ beside other notable weirdos I’d never heard of. Rumour had it that Celestia had her own garden of statues in Canterlot where monsters and the very worst criminals were sentenced to eternal petrification for all to see. I don’t know if any of that was true, but looking at this place it suddenly looked a damned sight more than just a rumour. Away from the palace our beloved princess, the dreaded ‘white witch’ of the wendigo, struck me as a kindly old kook who lived with several dozen cats. Dare I say it, but she seemed almost ‘normal’ when she was with Rush. Perhaps he ‘grounded’ her somehow, offering her something close to a normal life the likes of which she’d never known growing up with such a frightening level of responsibility. I’d seen this kind of transformation when I’d worked for the watch, albeit on a far smaller level. When the uniform was on, the wearer was the definitive authority figure, and others treated you as such. But take that self same pony out of the uniform and they were a different creature altogether than the one the public saw. It was, to some degree anyway, almost like having a split personality – one for work, and one for home. You got used to it. In the case of Celestia however, as nice as she may have been to me in Rush’s home, I doubted I’d be visiting her for a cup of tea and a biscuit in her chambers in the palace. One piece of advice I was given by my tutor for when I was dealing with the upper classes came to mind - don’t open the closet! In Celestia’s case there were far more than skeletons in there. Gods above, Equestrian history wasn’t just bloody, it was damned well soused in it. No wonder we didn’t get much trouble from the neighbours these days.

I looked around the room for anything that might give me a clue as to what had been going on in here. But gods above, this bloody language! Signs abounded, littering the walls and doors with everything from warnings about washing your hooves to making sure you locked the doors. It was only thanks to the friendly cartoons next to the scratchy writing that I had any idea what I was looking at. As for traps though, there was nothing I could see, and it was no wonder. We were right in the middle of a busy research lab, so why would there be? Irtha and I moved further in, careful to dodge around the frozen ponies, keeping to the hoof prints as much as we could. And that was something else that kept running through my mind over and over again too: three sets of hoof prints. Three come in, one goes out. Three… Three come in. One goes out… Something wasn’t adding up here.

Irtha moved closer, keeping his voice down, “Fairlight? There’s another flight of stairs.”

I nodded, “I see them.” Maybe that was it then. Amhar had said he dropped the staff after banging into something and tumbling down the stairs. What we sought therefore was most likely at the top. And also, what we didn’t want to find. I steeled myself, checked Irtha was right behind me, and moved onward. Sure enough there were the now familiar scuff marks coming down. Hoof marks on the wall had chipped the paint, with wide areas in the dust showing when Amhar had fallen bodily down them. And also...yes…

“What is it?” Irtha whispered.

I lifted my hoof to my nose and sniffed, “Blood.” It was fresh too. “Come on.”

We moved up the stairs one at a time, weapons at the ready, but what use they would be was more than likely somewhere between nil and buck all. Still, at least it helped me focus and steady my mind. The last thing I wanted was to be thinking about… ‘those’ things. What was funny however was that in the mortal realm, Irtha and I would be the ghosts. So that being the case, how could a ghost be afraid of ghosts? Well that made perfect sense didn’t it! Gods, what a world! I huffed away my intrusive thoughts and focussed on my surroundings. Two floors… Only there were really three. So, ground floor was office space, first floor admin, second floor research and development, and a door at the far end of the second that lead… where? The roof? The doors were open at the top, and I suddenly froze, trying to get my racing heart rate under control. There was nothing here that could harm me. I was already dead, so what was there to fear? Reincarnation? Pah! I didn’t fancy it sure, but it wasn’t the end of everything. Only… only me. But who said I was going to die again, huh?

“Fairlight?”

“Huh?” I gave myself a shake, “I’m okay, Irtha. Just thinking.”

The stallion glanced past me into the dark room, “What’s that flashing light?”

Steeling myself I stuck my head round the door and stared into the gloom. There were no windows here. No windows, no skylights, only a flashing red light above a door. Hoofprints lead towards it, but all three sets lead away. What the hell was going on here? We walked further in, past what seemed to be a security desk of some kind. Uniformed soldiers stood or sat around, still at their posts, the red glowing light picking out details of their surprisingly practical armour and weapons. I don’t know what I’d expected, but the crystal empire had always given me the impression of a place where it was all shiny armour, feathers, and… well, crystal I suppose. These guys looked to be wearing the kind of armour that wouldn’t have looked out of place in the watch! Strange indeed. We sidled past them, keeping an eye out for traps. My horn was still itching but had at least calmed down enough to allow me to focus on where the field was most concentrated, and- Oh… Oh, hell…

“What is it?” Irtha looked past me into the side room. “Oh no… Kyrna.”

There are some things you can never un-see, and this was one of them. The stallion before us had been split from throat to pelvis and pinned to wall with some kind of surgical apparatus. Blood soaked his fur, his eyes open wide and staring. “Kyrna,” I frowned in thought, studying the body. “You’re sure? Not Wythe?”

Irtha shook his head, “No. That’s definitely Kyrna.”

Interesting.

“Why? What’s wrong?” Irtha asked.

“It could be nothing,” I said quietly. I looked at the bed in the corner, the restraints, the strange magical equipment sitting there silently. “Amhar said that Kyrna had triggered a trap that incinerated him when he tried to levitate the staff from its holder.”

“Maybe he was mistaken,” Irtha reasoned. “He was terrified after all.”

“He was,” I replied quietly. “He was also uninjured.”

“What about the blood on the stairs?” Irtha asked. “Could be from an injury we hadn’t seen.”

“That amount?” I examined the restraints. Whoever had been here had put up one hell of a fight judging by the teeth marks. “Could be from Kyrna or Wythe,” I added. “What’s the sign over the door say?”

Irtha moved back and frowned in thought for a moment, “Specimen Containment.”

“Specimen containment,” I repeated. Damn, things were starting to add up here, and not to anything good. “Come on, let’s see where the hoofprints go next.”

We stepped outside and turned down the dark corridor. I wished to the goddess I could have used my magic here, even just for a small light, but it wasn’t to be. Even the lamps the wendigo had were magically powered and had been left behind just in case they triggered one of the traps. In fact the only light we had was the now ever present flashing red light. The red light that was flashing over the door right in front of us.

“Irtha?” I prompted.

“Soul Capture and Reassignment,” he read. “The other sign says, ‘Level Four Access Required. See front desk duty officer for access keys.”

“I don’t think we’ll need to,” I noted, pointing to the large set poking out of the bottom key hole. “Not a magical lock then. Interesting.”

We walked inside. And into hell itself. The smell was the first thing that hit me, and sent my wendigo spirit squirming with anticipation. Even a cursory glance around the room in the mind warping flashing red glare was nothing I would ever wish to see again. The colour masked most of it, but you couldn’t disguise the sheen. It was red. Everything was red. I could hear Irtha retching outside as he hung onto the door frame emptying his guts. I couldn’t blame him, my own stomach was doing its best to eject what little breakfast I’d had this morning. I wiped my muzzle, concentrating on trying to work out just what had happened here. There was a bed in one corner, but not one for sleeping. Lying atop it was a frozen statue, frozen in a pose of abject torture and anguish. Toppled over, two lab-coated ponies holding clipboards lay smothered in blood. But... statues don’t bleed, and stone doesn’t ooze the thick, sticky fluid that once pumped through veins, artery and heart. The one whom that precious force of life had once held within their body sat against the wall, a curled metal and wood stave rammed down through their mouth and exiting through the cavity where their organs had once been. And the smell… Dear goddess, the smell…

“Fairlight...” Irtha croaked from the doorway, “The staff. We… We need to...”

“I know,” I said quietly. “Wait outside, Irtha.” I took a breath, “Best cover your ears too.”

I took hold of the thing the best I could. Dear Luna, forgive me for this. I couldn’t use magic and I wished to all the gods and goddesses I could have. Carefully, I wrapped a cloth I’d found around the staff, braced myself against the remains of the wendigo warrior, and pulled. My stomach lurched, my body shaking with the effort, and then, mercifully, it came free. I wish I could have at least said a few words, or covered him properly somehow. All I could manage was a thin blanket from beside the bed which would hide his eyes from the cruelty he had suffered, and my silent prayer for his soul. He would be on his way for reincarnation now. Thank the gods he wouldn’t remember this when he was reborn. There are some things, terrible things, that a mind cannot see and still remain untouched. As for my own… I would never forget what I’d seen this day.

Outside in the corridor, Irtha was wiping his muzzle and took a swig from his canteen. “Is it done?”

“I have the staff,” I said quietly. I’d given it a wipe with what I could find in there, but it was still covered in gore. Unfortunately, so I was I now.

The voice booming through the corridor came as a complete surprise, and one that sent another shiver through my veins.

Urtha. Urtha. Esvata ques estai constistanti unum. Destata merdinus empara.

We looked at each other in amazement as Irtha went a horrible shade of white. He mouthed the word as much as spoke it.

“Run.”

Bells began to sound around us, louder and louder, reverberating through the ground and up through our hooves.

Urtha. Urtha. Esvata ques estai constistanti unum. Destata merdinus empara.

We hit the doorway full tilt, hurtling down the stairs as fast as our legs would carry us. The sound of the bells was all around now, screaming its warning to the stone warriors of the empire. At any moment I expected them to come to life like golems in the old stories - constructs of magic and despicable minds. They could have done for all I cared. My mind was focussed on only one thing: getting us out of there alive, and in one piece.

Urtha. Urtha. Esvata ques estai constistanti unum. Destata merdinus empara.

Flight after flight, along the corridor, the entrance hall - Irtha and I burst from the building like corks from a champagne bottle. The others were outside, staring at us in bewilderment.

“What is it? What’s happening?”

“Run!” Irtha yelled, “Just run, and don’t look back!”

Gods, I could feel it now. The mist, the things coming towards us. They knew we were there, that we had intruded in their home. Now… Now they were coming for us. I glanced over my shoulder and saw it. It was just like Amhar had said. The fog, the shapes within it, the way they swirled and flowed, billowing towards us.

“Fairlight, if you’ve got some magic in you then for the goddess’s sake you’d better pull it out of the bag now, or we’re all dead!” Irtha shouted.

Need. Desire and need. Strong emotions brought the wendigo out from its slumber readily. Almost as readily as the promise of nourishment. My spirit had fed well during the fight in Tartarus, but now it was time for its other great passion – battle. I can’t remember ever changing on the move before, but by the gods it worked. My wings freed themselves from my back without so much as a twinge, my teeth itching, my muscles burning and my eyesight taking on that blue hint which I once found so frightening, and now… now I longed for it. I needed it. Oh, the sheer joy of it all! I found myself smiling despite the sensation of fear I was picking up on from the others. I could smell them, their alarm driving my desire to engage with our enemy and drive them into the cold, hard ground. There would be no more running.

“Fairlight?” Irtha slid to a halt and stared at me in amazement. “What the hell are you doing?!”

I grabbed the staff and threw it to him. “Go,” I called as he caught it, “Go and don’t look back. Get to the compound and I’ll find you there.”

He hesitated, but only for a second. Irtha gave a single nod, “Goddess bless you, brother.”

I didn’t look to see if he’d gone. I could feel the vibration from their hooves thundering away, the sensation of distance increasing from my warriors. My warriors. Ah, loyalty. Such a fickle thing.

Amhar’s description had been right on the nose. The very same fog he’d run from was rolling closer by the second, the figures inside it indistinct but still clearly equine in form. Whoever had designed this had done a good job. Although, this didn’t smell of Celestia’s work. No. My wendigo memories surged forth, calling to me, bringing me to them and them to me as images of battles past tantalised me with their distant allure and the thrill of war. My scythe would do little here, but my magic was still a match for this. I was a match for this. The words of the warning played back through my mind, ‘Urtha. Urtha. Esvata ques estai constistanti unum. Destata merdinus empara’. Yes. Yes, it made so much more sense now. The final piece had dropped into place. The picture... revealed. At last.

At last!

My magic flowed around my hooves, pulsing and alive like breath itself. I could send a blast of concentrated magic into the fog, but it would do nothing. I knew this. I could read its incantation as easily as reading the open pages of a book. Instead, I let my magic flow out, the misty fog of the northern winters meeting the fog of the ancient world. And where they met lighting flowed like molten silver. And stopped. I took a step forward, listening to the hidden song of the incantation, the threads of the matrix of magic - the soul of the spell. It was near, and it would follow me as surely as a dog follows its master. I had wronged it, and it would take me as it would any other intruder in into its lair. I let it. I teased it, tested it, drew upon its single motivation and followed the thread of magic as fine as a single spider thread. I walked on. Not hurrying. Not running. Every step brought a hiss of magic, the spell throwing itself at my own, the figures walking around the swirling flashes of lightning looking for a way in, a way to reach the one who had dared to intrude. The one who had stolen from them. I smiled. I was so near now, the thread of magic drawing me to it almost as though it were willing me there itself. And it was old. So very old. The consciousness of ages, sewn into its form and being, had brought a sense of self its creators had never envisaged. And yet it was here, awakened. And it was angry.

“Child,” I whispered, “You have served you master well.”

I sensed the thought as much as heard the whisper of magic in my ears. It was tired. So, so tired.

“It is time to sleep now.” I closed my eyes and lifted my head, “Your task is done.”

Relief. Thanks. Emptiness…

The spell matrix, so old and yet so strong in both will and form, slowly began to fade, breaking apart as it mingled with the magic of my spirit. I drew it in. Little by little, thread by thread, the magic of the city blended with the magic of the wendigo, and I drank deeply. Deep as the oceans depths…

********************

And whom do we have here? Another visitor so soon to my home? Ah! I see now. Yes. A child of the mountains no less. A child of the white one, of the netherworld, and that of the witch and the darker spawn of the all father. What are you doing here, child of the mountains? What is it that you seek in my sleeping home? What is it that you would wake the souls of the lost to find?

Ah… of course! Oh, sweet child, how the wheels of destiny turn. How the threads of the weave begin to grow in the loom of the old mare. Threads long since rotted to nothing sprout anew from the dead ground to bloom once more in the sunlight.

And you, my little thread. You shall be the first thread within the tapestry of our new story. The story that awaits only for the cover to be opened, and the first page to be turned.

Read on, child of the mountains.

Read on.

********************

I ran. Gods, how I ran! The fog had gone, but the words remained, fading quickly as a breath on a cold window pane. Had I passed out? I don’t know, I wasn’t sure. All I was sure of now was that I had to move like the wind. I had to run, run and follow the hoof prints along the road to the open gates of the compound. Closer and closer, my hooves thundering over the cobbles. I was nearly there. Only a few more yards. Only a few more...

“VELA!” I burst in though entrance, forgetting about my wendigo power too late. My magic winked out in an instant and I was suddenly a unicorn again, stumbling into one of the four who had come before me. “Vela…” I gasped desperately. “Where is he? Irtha? Are they…?”

“We all made it back, brother.” Irtha stepped out from the base of the tower, reaching out to help his comrade catch me as my hind legs gave out. “Dear goddess, what happened back there?”

“Irtha,” I breathed, “Where’s Amhar?” I grabbed at his tunic, “Damn it, Irtha, where is he?!”

“He’s in the tower,” the grey stallion said uncertainly. “Why? What’s going on?”

“No time,” I gasped. “Draw you sword, and let’s hope we’re not too late.”

Irtha went ahead with his brothers, rushing up the stairs as I brought up the rear, willing my damned legs to move. I couldn’t use the magic here. I had to rely on myself and my body to pull together and make this happen. Rounding the top of the stairs, the shouting began. Neighs, whinnies and snorts rang through the tower and echoed down the stairs. I willed myself on, reaching the top floor and the sight that I had prayed I wouldn’t see. It was Amhar. The sneering creature was stood on his hind legs with Vela pinned against the wall and Amhar’s sword pressed into his throat. He was still alive, but in obvious pain. Beside them, moaning in a pool of blood, was the ragged form of Lyrin. Irtha and the others stood before me, swords drawn and all shouting at once. From downstairs I heard the door bang and the low rumbling shouts of Herath and the rest.

“One of you go down and stop Herath before we have a bloodbath on our hooves,” I ordered levelly.

“But-”

“DO IT!” I roared. “Do you want your brothers to live, stallion?”

The stallion nodded and dashed away. My focus then shifted to the yellow eyes of the one holding Vela.

“Hail the conquering hero comes,” Amhar smiled drily. “You escaped too, I see.”

“Apparently,” I replied quietly. I waved the others back, giving myself some room, “Care to tell me your name?”

The stallion snorted, “You’re the clever one, clever boy. You tell me, hmm? Who is the little dickie bird who flew from his cage in the morning sun.”

I reached into my satchel and took out a worn sheet of paper which I passed to Irtha, “You can read this language. Read it aloud.”

“Read…?” Irtha blinked in surprise, but held up the paper in his hooves and read, “Subject forty four. Blue Quartz. Earth stallion. Age, twenty two. Son of Emerald Quartz and Wide River. Arrested on the fourteenth day of the winter nights draw. Crimes: Petty theft, burglary, actual bodily harm, sexual assault, rapine, attempted murder, murder, passing stolen information to enemies of the state, treason...” Irtha paused, “It goes on.”

“You’ve been a busy boy, Blue,” I said addressing the stallion holding Vela. “Quite a clever trick you pulled back there.”

“You’re the clever boy, clever little horny head.” The creature Amhar had become stared at me with undisguised loathing, all wrapped up in the foaming mouth of hate filled insanity, “You want your shiny friends? Pretty friends. Yes?”

“Where’s Amhar?” I asked. “Tell me where he is.”

“He’s here,” Blue Quartz smirked, “Squeaking and squawking, bawlin’ and yellin’, but I aint tellin’!” He suddenly began shrieking with laughter, “You get me out, clever horny head. You get me out and you have your pretty friend as alive as alive-o, or we’ll play stabby stab with your horny friend here.” He gave Vela a shove, making him hiss in pain.

“Fairlight, what the hell is going on?” Irtha whispered. “Isn’t that Amhar?”

“No.” I shook my head slowly, never letting my gaze shift from Blue Quartz. “You’ve been here all along, haven’t you Blue? You’ve been trapped in that staff all these years, when all you needed was for somepony to come along and finish the spell.”

“Oh, clever dickie bird!” Blue Smirked wickedly. “Clever boy, you!”

I ignored him and continued, “Amhar, Kyrna and Wythe walked into the room and inadvertently blundered right into the middle of a soul transfer. One that had been started just as the dimensional spell hit the city.” I kept my eyes fixed on the crazed stallion before me. “It’s a procedure intended to pull the soul from a prisoner who was to be executed, and, I suspect, replaced by somepony else. A dignitary, a politician maybe… it doesn’t matter. They were in the bed in the room right next to one with the staff.”

Blue’s eyes bulged, “Doesn’t matter, doesn’t matter, doesn’t matter, DOESN’T MATTER!” Spittle flew from his mouth as he raved. “They wanted to kill me! KILL ME! But I beat them, yes indeed. Yes, yes, yes! The old pig wanted the little pig’s body, but I was in there. Me. ME! So they try to pull me out into the stick so the old pig can steal me. But then the magic came and I was stuck. Stuck in the stick. Stick, stuck, buck and pluck. Stucking, stocking, stinking, stick.”

“One of the Amhar’s team used magic to levitate the staff from its holder and you used that like a lightning rod, jumping from the staff into his body.” I had his full attention now. “From there you did what you did best, right Blue? You killed Kyrna and Wythe. Wythe was first, but Kyrna tried to run, and you cornered him in the room where you had been kept before the procedure, didn’t you? And you so wanted to take revenge on the ponies who had done this to you. It didn’t matter that the pony in front of you hadn’t harmed you, did it? You just wanted to vent all that frustration, and Kyrna was right there in front of you. I saw the hoof print on the outside of the door, Blue. I saw the bloodied hoof prints coming out of the room, the cloth you had used to try and hide your crime. But then something happened, didn’t it? You triggered the alarm, and so you ran. You ran here in Amhar’s stolen body. The only question now, is why.” Blue Quartz hissed low in his throat, the knife in Vela’s back twitching. I had to stop this, and quickly. “What do you want Blue Quartz?” I asked. “What is it you’re after?”

Whatever mind there had been in there, diseased or not, had gone, long, long ago. All that remained now was the very essence of malice, the desire for vengeance, and a burning need to pay back the world for every moment of every day he had been trapped, fully conscious, in that eternal nightmare prison of the damned. “I want to come with you,” he grinned. “Come along and along. Ponies to play with, yes? Play a game, you and me, me and you. Lots for us to see and do.”

“Let Vela go,” I said calmly, “and we’ll talk.”

“Oh, talk? Oh, yes! Like to talk,” Blue snorted. “Talk and trick me into your trickster trickery! Sneaking, sneaky, stallion! You won’t take me alive copper! NOT ALIVE! NOT NOW!”

“Then come with us,” I smiled gently. “Come with us, Blue Quartz. Let us take you to the Eternal Herd where the sun shines brightly in the sky and the grass grows green all year round. The herd is calling to you, as it does for us all. Can’t you hear it? Listen… Listen...”

Blue Quartz hesitated, his eyes focussing and unfocussing, “The… Herd?”

“The place of rest for souls. All souls,” I said gently. “Whatever crimes you committed, Blue, you have paid for them. Its time for you to start again now. Time to be reborn, and live again. Throw off the chains, and come… come with me now.”

The sword clattered to the floor, followed a moment later by Vela, cast aside and discarded. Blue said nothing. His eyes were on me, his expression one of desperation, pain, and probably for the first time in over a thousand years: hope. Slowly, shakily, he walked towards me.

“Come, brother,” I smiled. “Let us go home now. There is so much for you to see.”

“So much...” he echoed. “Home. I… I want to go home.”

“We are going home,” I cooed warmly. “It’s time now. Come. Come with me.”

We slowly descended the stairs. I could hear the rumble of hooves behind us as the others no doubt rushed to tend to Lyrin and Vela. I had to ignore it and focus on dealing with one problem at a time. And time was something I didn’t have. Lyrin was in trouble, and by the rate he was losing blood he didn’t have long. Vela was still an unknown, but he was conscious at least.

“Come, Blue. We’re going home,” I said softly. “You’ll be able to run and play, and sing and dance under the warm summer sun. You’ll be able to eat such wonderful things as you have never tasted before. Come.”

The stallion stumbled after me in a daze. He didn’t notice the others, nor the movement behind him. I don’t think he even felt the blow across his skull that Herath landed. Gods, he was still smiling as he sank to the ground.

“Help me get him outside the nullification field, Herath. Quickly!” I slipped my foreleg under the fallen stallion, and together with Herath’s help we made for the gateway. Herath, I was surprised to note, never said a word. He’d noticed my mouthed words, my nod, and thank the goddess – my intention. Rather than run Blue through, he’d landed an expertly placed blow that rendered the pony senseless. And now, as the wash of magic filled me once more, as the wendigo spirit shivered through my body, it was my turn to work my own spell on this poor soul.

“Home...” Blue whispered distantly, “Mother...”

“Time to go home, Blue Quartz,” I said quietly. My teeth gently pressed into the warm hide of his neck, “Time to go home...”

Herath stood behind me like an immovable wall of utter silence. He’d seen this before. Probably, he’d done this himself when he’d been alive too. It was uncouth, crude, considered cruel even by wendigo standards. But today, it was the only kindness I could bestow upon this broken creature. Today the soul of Blue Quartz was finally freed from his hell, and Amhar… I could only pray I’d done enough. The shock to his own soul, beaten and trampled down by the intrusion of Blue Quartz, may have been too much for him. He was still there though, quiet and afraid, but only time would tell whether he would ever fully return to us. Perhaps ending things more permanently for the two of them would have been the truer kindness.

Woodenly, the stallion rose to his hooves, his eyes unfocussed and his legs quivering.

“Herath, look after him. He’s been to a place nopony should ever go.” I closed my eyes and breathed in the stale air of the empire, “Have the others bring Vela and Lyrin here quickly.”

He knew what to do. They had been where I was once before, and they would be again some day. Perhaps. I listened to the blood in my veins, the thrill of adventure tingling my hooves and wings. Oh, how I wanted to launch up into that sky and soar over the city! It wouldn’t take long, but if I did I could lose the vital seconds that could mean the difference between life and death for the two wendigo. I could hear them. I could sense them drawing nearer, carried by their brothers. One was weakened, but the other was near death. So, so near. Lyrin was first. Once outside the barrier I took his muzzle in my forehooves, brought him to me, and let him drink. Oh, and he was thirsty. So, so thirsty! The stallion pulled at me, weakly at first, and then stronger, scrabbling, pulling and… and then released. Gasping, I let him go into the hooves of the others as I turned my attention to Vela. The grey stallion was watching me in silence. His wound was not great, but the blood needed to be staunched. Carefully I checked his injury for any contaminant, but he was lucky. All I needed to do was put a little of my life essence into him and his body would do the rest. He didn’t resist either. There was a part of me that expected him to do just that, but he just lay there as I trickled the magic into his open wound. Vela grunted slightly, his only reaction to the flesh knitting itself back together as the skin covered it over, drip by drip, piece by piece, until only clean flesh remained. The fur would regrow, but the real work had been done. I had already drawn enough spirit for myself, but I was tired now. I needed to rest.

“Fairlight?” Lyrin looked up at me, his eyes glinting in the eerie pink light of the strange land. “I…” he swallowed, “Thank you. Thank you, brother.”

I smiled faintly, trickling the magic flow of the spirit back inside where it could sleep until needed once again. “You’re welcome, my friend.” I reached up and took his hoof, letting him help me to my hooves. Beside us, Vela said nothing.

Back inside the tower, Vela, Lyrin and I, sat down beside the apparatus, carefully avoiding looking at the blood stains that somepony had had the wherewithal to at least try to clean up. “I never thought I’d experience that again,” Lyrin exclaimed, rubbing his shoulder. “Damn, that’s been a few years! Anyway, how did you know Amhar wasn’t who he said he was? What tipped you off?”

I leaned back and gazed up at the ceiling, “Urtha. Urtha. Esvata ques estai constistanti unum. Destata merdinus empara”.

“What?” Lyrin’s eyebrows shot up in amazement, “Do you know what that means?”

I nodded, “Warning. Warning. Subject holding cell containment breach. Countermeasures deployed.” I shrugged, “The rest of it slotted into place. Our boy Blue didn’t have the time to cover his tracks properly and probably didn’t think we’d go back for the staff.”

Lyrin looked fascinated, “You’re going to have to tell me full story, Fairlight.”

“Another time,” I said with a tired smile. “One telling per day’s my limit I’m afraid.”

“Huh! I always miss the best bits,” the grey fellow sighed. He started to reset the equipment, muttering to himself and cursing until finally he lifted a glass beaker and held it up to the light, “Thank the goddess we didn’t lose this.”

It was like liquid gold, swirling in its container as if alive. “Do we need much more?” I asked.

Lyrin shook his head, “I don’t believe so.” He looked up, “Vela? Do you have the codex with you?”

The leader of the wendigo silently reached into his pack and withdrew a very familiar looking item. Instinctively my hoof moved to my pack, but out of the corner of my eye I caught the look Vela shot me and quickly changed it into a good scratching. He gave a condescending sniff and placed the cube on the floor between us. So much for mending bridges!

“What does it do, this ‘codex’?” I asked.

Vela answered this time, “It’s a roadmap of worlds,” he explained. He looked almost in awe of the thing, and maybe he was. I almost expected his eyes to start glowing. “It is a guide to the old world, and the new. The key to the ends of the world and to our rebirth.”

How very cryptic! I bit back a sarcastic reply about it being unnecessarily overly dramatic, but somehow I doubted my observations would go down that well. Vela didn’t seem the sort that would take criticism well. Miserable sod. Maybe I should have left him with a bloody band-aid.

“The staff,” Lyrin explained, “is the other part of the puzzle. If the portal is the door, then the staff is the key. The pathway beyond is opened with the codex.”

“Well all I can say is I’m glad somepony knows what’s going on,” I huffed, stretching out my hind legs, “because I’m more baffled now than I was a minute ago. Lyrin, Vela, carry on gentlecolts.” I held out my hoof and grinned, “Right now, I’m going to do what I should have done from the beginning.”

“What’s that?” Lyrin asked curiously.

I held out a pouch of tobacco, “I’m going to have smoke.”

“Well go up on the roof if you’re going to do that.” Lyrin got up and brushed off his cloak, “And be careful of the probe will you?”

“Suit yourself,” I muttered.

Miserable buggers. So off I set, panniers over my back, my cloak on my back to act as a makeshift picnic rug, and a bowl full of finest rough cut tobacco. A few seconds fiddling with the tinder box later and the world of delicious relaxation took me into its grey and smoky embrace. Ah, it didn’t get any better than this! I leaned back against the wall and let out a heartfelt sigh, feeling the tension begin to slowly but surely drift away from my body. I chuckled to myself; it wouldn’t be long now. Soon we’d be off on the next leg of the adventure and go… meh, wherever. Who the hell cared? Star Swirl, Celestia, bloody whats-is-face the barber, and Vela too – screw ‘em. Screw the whole bloody lot of them. None of them gave a toss about old Fairlight here, and let’s be honest, why should they? To them I was just another random guy. Sure, I could change into a wendigo, but if I dropped dead tomorrow they wouldn’t shed any tears. I was a pony to be used, an asset to be taken advantage of. Yeah… I took a draw on my pipe and stared up at the sky. Who knew what the future would bring? The poor buggers here didn’t know, and by the looks on the faces of the frozen ponies that lined the dead streets they’d been clueless about their fate too. To them the day the spell had hit had been just like any other. Regarding the sky though, it did seem a bit different from when I’d first seen it. The clouds were… moving? Hmm, yeah, they probably had been before and I just hadn’t noticed. I yawned and stretched out, rubbing my horn. Bloody thing was driving my nuts lately. I think it must have been all the magic from yesteryear that I wasn’t used to. Mum had always warned me about drinking water from unknown sources, and the same was true with magic. Strange spells and high magical density fields hung around in old places and were a constant danger.

Suddenly my horn felt like the damned thing was on fire and I scratched at it furiously. Blast it! What the… I closed my eyes and took a breath. Magic. Here? I opened my eyes and looked up at the sky. At the clouds.

“Oh… shit...”

I kicked the probe away just before the lightning hit, and was already bolting down the stairs for all I was worth. Vela was there staring at me while Lyrin looked out of the window.

“A storm?” The stallion turned to face me, “Gods damn it, the probe!”

“Gone,” I answered quickly. “The bloody thing was acting like a lightning rod.” I began grabbing my things, “It’s dealt with, but the magic’s inside the field.”

“The fields’ collapsing?” Vela spun to face Lyrin, “We have to move. There’s no more time.”

“Damn it all!” Lyrin snatched up the cube and placed it on a chair he was using as a makeshift workbench. “Well,” he said lifting the bottle of liquid magic and slipping it into his pack, “if I buck this up now then we’re all screwed, but if we stay here we’re screwed. Personally I don’t intend to do either, so cross your hooves and pray to whatever god or goddess you want to.” He took a deep breath, “There’s no turning back now.”

I think at that time, in that place, Vela and I were just as still as the statues outside in the sleeping city. Only the good doctor moved. Ever so slowly, in complete silence, the magic happened. One drop, the tiniest distilled drip of pure magic, fell onto the cube. I could feel my heart beating in my ears as I watched the next drop, and the next, and then the next. Each one fell, sat for a moment, and then was absorbed into the small wooden cube which sucked it up like a dry sponge. Faintly, and barely noticeably at that, I saw letters, lines and numbers, slowly begin to appear on the smooth black surface. Watching in fascinated silence I watched the characters glowing ever stronger with the same inner golden light as the distilled magical essence, gradually intensifying as the drops fell, one by one. From outside a rumble of thunder shook the building, and then a few seconds later a flash of brilliant white light burst through windows. Downstairs the door thumped open and we could hear shouting. Moments later, Herath entered.

“We know,” Vela said without looking up. “The field’s collapsing.”

In typical style, Herath said nothing and remained standing there waiting for orders. Right then I remember being surprised that Vela wasn’t screaming at Lyrin to hurry up. And personally, I think I found that the hardest part of all to accept. Magic was building up at a phenomenal rate right above our heads despite my knocking over of the probe. I dread to think what would have happened if I’d left the damned thing up, and it was only by sheer luck I’d snuck out for smoke when I had. Ha! Who said it was bad for you, eh? I returned my attention to Lyrin and the cube. I didn’t know how much that cube needed of the magical essence, but we were virtually down to the last few drops and the rumbling thunder was beginning to make my hair stand on end. Another flash of searing light burst around us and I knew if we didn’t do something soon we’d be in some serious-

“Done!” Lyrin shot to his hooves so fast he upset the chair, but it didn’t matter now. The cube was complete, the last drop of magic used, and the focus of our attention was the stairs.

Lyrin leading we dashed out of there, hurrying down into the lobby and out across the courtyard.

“Herath, get the others.” Vela’s order sent the hulking beast running, but they were already heading towards us anyway, geared up and ready to go. I don’t know if there was some sort of psychic connection between these guys or whether they were just so desperate to get out of there they’d geared up in anticipation, but I was bloody glad of it either way.

A boom of thunder rolled through the compound, and then… something utterly amazing happened. Rain. The first drops began to fall, splashing into the dust in near silence. Then more. And then even more. In seconds the heavens opened, the ground and us poor sods below caught in a deluge that made me curse the engineers who’d made the idiotic decision to build the bloody portal outside! Maybe there was a good reason for it, I don’t know, but you can take it from me that standing there in one of the heaviest downpours I’d ever had the misfortune to be in, with lightning and thunder all around you, makes you very appreciative of innovative concepts like having a blasted roof! Lyrin ran up the steps to the archway, the staff in his mouth. For a moment there I wondered if I’d told him exactly how I’d found that thing, but sometimes the less you knew the better. All I can say is thank the goddess for toothpaste!

And so there we stood in the driving rain, watching the remarkable Lyrin dashing here and there doing whatever it was he was doing with the enigmatically named ‘master portal’. In all honesty it didn’t look all that much different from every other portal I’d ever seen, although rather unsurprisingly was made of the same colourful crystal as everything else around here. It was nicely carved of course, and had a particular feel to its magic that gave me goosebumps. And believe me, that was hard to tell in the middle of the raging storm descending on us. By now we were all absolutely drenched. Ignoring the rain, Lyrin was working with the control panel, tapping brightly coloured gems and then, the part I was waiting for. Herath passed him the staff, and he reached up, plunging it into some sort of holder on the back of the control panel and began attaching large cables with crocodile clips on the end. Next he opened a door on the side of the panel and inserted the glowing black and gold cube. Now things really started to happen. I watched in amazement as the staff began to glow with a bright white light that grew in intensity as the magic of the portal suddenly began to peak. My senses heightened, the magic within me tingling in concert with the incredible intensity of the field build up. Lights flicked on around the rim of the arch in that strange hoofwriting one by one, until finally the last one was lit, glowing red against the pink of the crystal. Lyrin took one last look to make sure everything was as it should be, and then pulled a lever on the panel. Finally, his task done, he began to back away, staring at the arch as the magic began to coalesce.

Vela stepped forward, his ponies behind him. “It is… done,” he breathed. “Salvation. Home. A new life for us all.”

My mane stood on end, both at his words and the flash of lightning that lit the courtyard. Suddenly Lyrin looked up, “We need to move! If we don’t go now the electricity could interfere with the matrix and-”

“THEN LET’S GO!” Vela bowed his head, snorted, and turned to his people, “To the fore, brothers! To the fore!”

A great bellow of neighs rolled out, matched by the rumble of hooves. The wendigo, at last, were on the move. One after another they ran into the liquid silver surface of the portal, and from there… who knew. Pony after pony vanished into the unknown until only myself and Lyrin were left. I girded my loins in good old style and stepped forward.

“Hurry, Fairlight!” Lyrin stared up at the sky, “We don’t have time!”

I took a breath and charged. Up the steps my hooves thundered, my muzzle touching the silver light, and…

I looked down and saw the ground coming up to meet me. With a horrible thump I hit the dusty flagstones and slid to a halt. Lyrin was there in a flash, “Fairlight! Goddess almighty, are you alright? Are you hurt?”

“Only my pride,” I huffed, “What the hell happened?”

“I don’t know!” Lyrin ran back to the controls and began fiddling with the various dials and levers, “I… I don’t understand it!” He stared back at me, “I’ve calibrated it to send us to another master portal, but it’s meant to send souls. Yours shouldn’t be any different.”

“Is it the wendigo magic?” I asked.

“No! If it was you wouldn’t have been able to get here in the first place.” Lyrin shook his head in desperation, “The portal’s not accepting the calibration. It’s not making any sense! You’re a soul like us and-”

I put a hoof on his shoulder, “Lyrin… I know why.”

“What? Why?”

I closed my eyes and smiled sadly, “Because part of me… is still alive.”

“Still alive? You can’t be!” Lyrin’s eyes went wide. “That’s madness, Fairlight. You can’t be-”

“But I am, Lyrin.” I flinched as the thunder crashed above us, the lightning blasting down and striking the tower with a sound like a million shattered china plates. “Go,” I said giving him a push, “GO! NOW!”

“But-”

“Get the buck out of here!” I roughly grabbed Lyrin by the collar and shoved him bodily up the steps. “Go before I kick you through there you damned fool!”

“I’m not leaving you behind, Fairlight.” Lyrin snorted angrily, digging in his hooves. “Damn it, you’re my brother! You’re… you’re my friend!”

I chuckled, the madness of the scene would probably be touching if we didn’t both look like drowned rats, “Lyrin, I’ll find a way. I’ll come home, and when I do you’d better have the bloody kettle on.” Lyrin shook his head, my words lost to him now. I leaned forward and took his shoulders in my forehooves, “Fortune favours the bold, brother. Always.”

Lyrin’s face vanished backwards into the light. A moment later, right on cue, the lightning hit its target with almost predictable accuracy. The magical discharge was phenomenal, striking the staff and vaporising it in an instant. Beside it the control panel burst into flame, fizzled, and went out almost as fast. Gods… what a display. And what the hell was I going to do now? Somewhere, far beyond the churning clouds and the spell that held the ancients here in their frozen prison, the thunder echoed back and forth, its sonorous voice calling to the silent world below. Perhaps it was my imagination, or perhaps the way the raw energy of the storm resonated between the buildings of the crystal empire. But there, hidden amongst it all, I could hear them. The sound of the gods... laughing.

Chapter Twenty - The Journey of a Soul

CHAPTER TWENTY

THE JOURNEY OF A SOUL

The rain had passed, dissipating almost as soon as the portal had winked out of existence and leaving me alone in this city of silent statues. Water had filled the water stands and fountains where the still forms of the residents stood or sat, some merrily filling jugs and buckets that hadn’t seen a drop in over a thousand years. Maybe two thousand? I wasn’t sure. I also wasn’t sure if it was safe to drink, especially considering it was laced with magic if the distillation process Lyrin had used was anything to go by. Fortunately I still had some water of my own, and I’d even found a half full canteen left behind by the wendigo in their haste to pack up and go. One of them had also set a fire in the hearth, using wood that was surprisingly in good condition for its age. Thankfully I was able to coax some life back into the embers and set my cloak out to dry along with its rather soggy owner. And speaking of which, things weren’t looking too bloody rosy now where they?! Goddesses, what a mess…

I flopped into a chair and groaned loudly, “I wonder…”

I plucked the pendant from inside my barding and held it out in front of me. It was still glowing alright, but not in the direction of the portal this time. Hardly a surprise really, that way out of this nightmarish prison was completely buggered now, and what remained of it was still smoking from the lightning strike. Not that the damned thing would have worked for me anyway. I’d never even considered the possibility that the portal might not let me through, and of course now it was far too late. Had it been ignorance on my behalf perhaps? Or just dumb thick headed foolishness? Maybe a touch of both. Wishful thinking didn’t tend to yield positive result too often in my experience. Gods above, I know I’ve never exactly been the brightest pony in the world, but I didn’t consider myself to be stupid. After today’s performance however I was beginning to wonder about that. Take Lyrin for example. That guy was light years ahead of me in intelligence, his knowledge of history and skill in magic craft making me look more like the hired muscle than the ‘Lord of the wendigo’. Oh sure, I’d been a senior watchstallion in Equestria, but how much brain power did it take to wallop some pissed up numb-nut over the noggin on a Friday night and drag him to the drunk tank? Ha! Maybe I should have stuck to being a grunt on the beat. As miserable as it could be at times I’d never realised how good I’d had it until it was gone. Now that it was, I did miss my old job. At least to some degree. And then there was Vela of course. Cunning, deceit, and the willingness to do whatever it took to put his tribe first, were all hallmarks he wore proudly. Pleasant enough he may have been to me since I’d dropped through the portal, but I was under no illusions about the guy. He’d played me for a fool, and for how long… I had no idea. And let’s not forget good old Star Swirl. The less said about him the better. I suppose I was jealous of them all to some degree. I hated being manipulated and used with a passion, especially when it came to having my family involved in the machinations of others. Unfortunately by the time I found out I was having my strings pulled it was quite often far too late to do much about it. In some respects I can understand it though. As negative as it sounds, loved ones are a weakness, and one that can be exploited by unscrupulous individuals who would have no qualms about using them as a lever to force others to do their bidding. But truthfully, was I all that different? I’d done some terrible things over the years, using my new found wendigo magic to obtain what I wanted in life. I could justify it to myself of course, wrapping it all up neatly in a veneer of reason and logic, just like Vela in a way, claiming that everything I did was for the good of the tribe and for my family. And yet… wasn’t it really for myself? The tribe had seemed quite content as they were, living in quiet isolation in their village on the edge of the forest. Or at least they had been before I came along. With me came the spectre of misfortune that had haunted me ever since my investigation into the importation of drugs into Equestria had taken on a life of its own, drawing with it the attention of those who preferred to live in the shadows. That was when the killing began. Some of the villagers, ponies, minotaurs, griffins… they would have been alive today if I had never arrived in Smiling Borders on that fateful day. They see me as their lord, their hope for better future for all of them. Sometimes I wonder about that.

I don’t know… It’s a strange, strange world.

I leaned back in my chair, warming my hooves and took out my grooming kit. It was a fairly basic affair but had all the essentials necessary for the stallion on the move. Laying them out I set to work filing the edges of my hooves and picking out the stones that had found their way in there. My old friend the barber had done a damned good job, but it didn’t hurt to keep up with maintenance. Besides it was also a damned good way of taking my mind off this place, and, more importantly, what in the seven hells I was going to do next. I just wish it wasn’t so quiet here! I really missed my old radio, the songs around the campfire, birdsong, in fact anything that could cut through this chilling silence. The fire though, was a godsend. The merry crackling of the logs and the sweet scent of woodsmoke was a musical accompaniment all of its own, and I was also very grateful of the lack of statues in here too. As if it wasn’t creepy enough having those empty eyes staring at you, they were absolutely everywhere you went. Getting into the bath, cooking some food, shopping… bloody hell, I was glad I hadn’t been up in one of the bedrooms yet! Still, it appeared to have been during the daytime when the spell had hit so hopefully the bedrooms wouldn’t be occupied. More specifically, the beds themselves. Ha! Not that I’d be getting much sleep here anyway. I gave myself a shake before putting my kit back in my pack. Right then! Since I was going to be stuck here for a while, why not have a look around to kill the time? My cloak, packs and barding were going to take a while to dry, and now that my hooves were done, my mane combed and my coat brushed too, I quite fancied having a nose around the old place.

The room I was in was quite large. By the looks of it, it had been intended for use as a meeting area or conference suite, conveniently placed right next door to the portal. The once numerous chairs and small desks had been piled up in a corner by the more recent occupants and several transformed into firewood. And very serviceable it was too, even if it did seem sacrilegious to destroy what would in all likelihood be priceless antiques back in Equestria. Numerous pictures hung on the walls alongside various tapestries of quite pleasant and unassuming scenes. Ponies wearing uniforms or smart clothes gazed down from enormous portraits that had probably meant something to somepony once, but now were long forgotten in the mists of time. Wall sconce with the more familiar oil lamps similarly lined the walls and several larger ones from the ceiling. Lighting them had been simple enough, and there was a good supply of oil in their tanks to at least last the night. Here and there documents in that weird writing of the empire appeared, declaring whatever it had been deemed necessary to declare for the reader to understand. For an ignoramus like me, it may as well have been written in Yakistani. Perhaps if I changed into my wendigo form? Mmm, no. No, I don’t think so. The nullification field was gone, vanishing into the aether when the portal was destroyed, but I didn’t fancy taking a chance all the same. That magic I’d encountered had homed in on me with frightening accuracy, and as much I’d removed the source of it you could bet your plump rump it wasn’t the only lingering menace out there. Somepony, Celestia in all likelihood, hadn’t left this place undefended against intruders. And personally, I liked my ‘plump rump’ right where the gods had intended it.

A large crystal double staircase with a deep blue carpet, swept up to a central landing at one end of the room with another painting overlooking the proceedings below. Munching on a dry biscuit I decided to trot up and have a closer look. Funny how I did things automatically, like making sure I didn’t drop crumbs on the carpet. Meadow’s influence maybe? Females were noted for changing a fellow and putting their own stamp on you when you were in a relationship with them. A bit like a mental branding iron in some respects. One mare I’d met had told me she’d been able to tell I was married from a mile off, but exactly how she’d known that she hadn’t said, preferring instead to leave me hanging, like mares seemed to do all the bloody time. Oh, how they liked that little game! Huh! I was beginning to dislike mares. Not all of them of course, but… oh, I don’t know! A pain in the arse is what they are, and as much as a warm cuddle and a fool about in front of the fire was attractive, it was what they brought with them that I didn’t like: control. Meadow did it, mum had done it, Tingles and Shadow not so much, but it was still there nonetheless. You could bet your sweet rump it was! It didn’t mean that I didn’t miss them of course. It was worth putting up with a bit of hen pecking for a hug and to be told that you meant something to somepony. I let out a sigh. Yeah… being alone wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.

“Nice cloak,” I muttered aloud looking up at the painting.

There was a name underneath it, but only the gods knew what it said. Still, other than the fancy clothes he was a fairly normal looking unicorn by and large. I’m not sure what I expected to be honest: extra heads, two horns, sparkly ears? I chuckled under my breath and munched down the last of my biscuit. The stallion had a coat colour very similar to mine, and a black mane to boot. But that’s where the similarities ended. This fellow reeked of power. From his crown of silver with its central emerald, his deep green eyes, his deep purple cloak with white fur trim, all the way down to his silver shoes, there was no mistaking the fact that this guy, was the boss. Unless crowns were the ‘in thing’ here in the empire I’m guessing this portrait was of the monster that the many myths and legends about him had sent fillies and colts to bed with nightmares for generations to come. King Sombra: monarch, warrior, leader, killer. If you believed all that legendary guff of course. Personally I lived by the mantra that history was written by the victor. Why? Because it was bloody well true, that’s why. Nopony wants to hear that their ‘side’ did bad things, especially when it came to the eternal white goddess of the ponies. And so all we’d been left with were the sparse pickings in the meagre libraries of our world that barely gave the poor sod so much as a passing mention. Besides, over a thousand years later, who cared? Sombra was a monster from long, long ago. Mind you, if he was anything like his painting suggested, he’d been a damned good looking fellow. I particularly like his coat colour too. Spot on that. Spot on.

A lot of the doors beyond the landing lead to smaller, more private conference areas, with a smattering of offices, reading rooms, several bathrooms, all of which lead to what I was hoping I’d find: a nice big bedroom. It was right at the very end of the corridor and flanked by long beautifully carved columns applied with gold leaf. A little pressure and the large oak door swung inward on smoothly oiled doors.

“Room service!”

I grinned to myself as I entered the silent and beautifully appointed room... and gasped in awe at what I saw. Bloody hell, talk about how the other half live! The carpet was so thick a pile that I all but sank into it up to my fetlocks, and the rest of the luxuriant décor was just as opulent if not more so. The crystal walls I’d become familiar with had been replaced by dark wooden panels with intricately crafted golden lamps spaced just so. Large arched windows let in enough light to illuminate the room beautifully during the day, but at night it must have been equally magnificent. Two fireplaces with carved mantles in the form of intertwined dragons sat one at each end. The curtains were thick, lush, and warm to the touch below dragons head curtain poles. Even the bed, a four poster as expected, was carved with scenes of battle, the ever present dragons, and a mattress and pillows you could die for. How the hell had everything survived for this long and not gone to ashes? By rights it should have all rotted, decaying into nothing. The plant life certainly hadn’t survived, but… who knew? And more to the point, who cared? I had a bed for the night! And boy, what a bed!

With a whoop of joy I launched myself onto the mattress and rolled around like a foal in a toyshop. Gods, it was sooo soft! And yet firm too? Oh, perfect. So, so, perfect! I must have been grinning like an idiot, rolling back and forth, back and forth, until I spied the half open door. The bathroom! Oh, hell yeah! Quick as a flash I was off the bed and exploring more of this incredible place, or more specifically the crystal, marble, and gold fantasy realm that was to prove to be the biggest bathroom I’d seen outside of the royal guard bath house. Bloody hell, how much had this cost to build?! Gold taps, gold plugs, even a gold toilet roll holder! Out of interest I pulled the chain on the toilet, and… it flushed. It actually flushed! Right then there was only one thing to do now. I climbed up, settled myself down, and did what came naturally to any pony. No newspaper to read, but never mind, you couldn’t have everything. Next up it was time for a bath. I turned the tap, expecting nothing, and at first there wasn’t. What there was was a hiss, a distant banging sound, and then a faint shudder just before water, hot water, began to trickle and then pour into the bath amid a plume of white steam. I stood aghast, watching as the bath began to fill. How? How the hell was this happening?! And why the hell was I questioning it?! Quickly I grabbed what was obviously a bottle of bath salts, a sponge, some soap, and in a few minutes I was floating away to heaven. Gods… the crystal empire was my kind of place.

Soon I was beginning to nod off, soaking there in my spicily scented dream world, but by Celestia’s hairy bum it was felt so good I didn’t care. Anyway, my short sword and dagger were near to hoof in case I needed them, but what the hell was going to attack me here? Ghosts? Damn it all, I didn’t give a toss about any of that now. Bring them on I say. Bring them on! I leaned back and let my mane soak in the warm water, feeling the tingle on my skin and the sheer joy of a moment of peace in the madness of the world outside. Lyrin didn’t know what he was missing! But something was missing, wasn’t it? Ah, yes… I cleared my throat and tested the acoustics:

He-is an Equestriannn!

Fooor he himself has said it,
And it's greatly to his credit,
That he is an Equestrian,
That he is an Equestrian!

For he might have been Llamalian,
From Trottingham or Yakistan,
Or perhaps Germani-an,
Or perhaps Germani-an!

But in spite of all temptations,
To belong to other nations,
He remains an Equestrian,
He remains an Equestrian!

For in spite of all temptations,
To belong to other nations,
He remains an Equestrian,
He remaiiins an Equestri-annn!

Ah, bliss. Bliss, bliss, bloody bliss! Life just didn’t get any better than this, did it? Still, I couldn’t stay in here all day as much I’d like to. And so, a quick towel off with one of the deliciously rough towels hanging on the rack later, a well groomed, warm and happy stallion trotted out of the bathroom and flopped onto the bed. A flask of balta hit the spot next, along with a slightly dog-eared sandwich left over from my visit to Rush’s home. Before I knew it I was slipping off into a restful, and it has to be said, extraordinarily comfortable sleep. Tomorrow, and all its worries, could wait.

I don’t know how long I was asleep for. With all the excitement I’d forgotten to wind my pocket watch, which when you consider how impossible it was to tell the time from the never changing sky here, it probably would have been a good idea. But oh, gods, I felt so good! Stretching out my legs I moaned softly and rolled over to pick up my watch. Better late than never I suppose.

“Sleep well?”

“Mmm, very.” I rolled my shoulders and smiled dreamily. Suddenly I froze, “Am I dreaming?”

“I don’t know,” the grey stallion said with an exaggerated pout, “maybe. Do you think you’re dreaming?”

“I’m staring at a guy from a painting who died thousands of years ago, so what do you think?” I wound my watch and popped it back into my tunic pocket.

“I’m dead?” The grey stallion sitting on the chair in the corner of the room looked shocked, “I thought I’d been a touch under the weather lately. Do you think I should go and speak to the surgeon?”

“Better an undertaker,” I smiled waving a hoof. “Or a medium.”

The stallion chuckled, “I heard your singing. I have to say I’m not familiar with that song. Is it from a stage play?”

I raised an eyebrow, swinging my legs round so I was sitting up and facing him, “Well, either I’ve finally cracked, or I’m talking to a ghost. Or...” I closed my eyes and groaned, “It was that bloody water wasn’t it.”

“The water?” The stallion clopped his hooves together suddenly, “Oh! You mean it may have been tainted with magic?” He nodded sagely, “I think you may be onto something there my friend.”

Oh… shit! Shit, shit, SHIT! Gods, what had I done? I didn’t drink it, but I’d had bloody bath in it, hadn’t I?! What an absolute cock! Now I was hallucinating and having a friendly conversation with a ghost of all things. And not just any ghost, oh no! It was the one from the painting! I took a deep breath and shook my head. No, it was better to think of him as an illusion, and not as a ghost. Definitely not a ghost! “So,” I said casually, “what now? Are we going to have a conversation about the afterlife, play chess for our souls, or what?”

“Buggered if I know,” the stallion sniffed. “You’re the one upsetting the balance here. I thought you’d know.”

“Upsetting-?” I jumped down off the bed and picked up my gear. “Upsetting what ‘balance’ exactly?”

“You mean you don’t know?” The stallion sighed, “Thousands of years and ponies are still clueless. I’m talking,” he said sarcastically, “about poking that thing of yours into the sky. I’m talking about stealing the staff from the laboratory and arsing about with the heart of the empire. Does any of that ring any bells with you, my friend?”

“My name’s Fairlight,” I replied levelly. “And you are?”

I should have guessed. “Sombra,” the stallion said with a bob of his head. “And I suppose I should officially welcome you to my home, Master Fairlight, but I’m a little to the ball it seems. You appear to have made yourself quite at home already without any help from me. Oh, and thank you for blowing up my portal by the way. Do you have any idea how much that’s going to cost to repair? The director of works is going to go absolutely spare!”

“King Sombra...” I nodded to myself with a smile, “Well, if I’m seeing things, it’s always better to go big.”

“Go big or go home,” Sombra smirked. “I always did like that phrase.”

“Mmm!” I checked my equipment and headed for the door, “Coming? Or do you have foals to terrorise somewhere?”

I trotted out and along the corridor.

“Oh, and don’t worry about the bed,” Sombra called out behind me. “The maids will clean it up for you. I’d hate for you to waste any more of your doubtless valuable time, say, making the bed?”

I rolled my eyes, ignoring him as I descended into the hall, passing the main desk and the stone stallion who… who seemed to be a lot more ‘colourful’ than I recalled. Sombra caught up with me, watching me with a disturbingly knowing smile as I walked up to the fire to collect my now dry cloak and barding.

“You’re not going to wear that, are you?” Sombra smirked widely. “It stinks!”

“It may smell, oh great and wise ruler, but you may have noticed that I have something of a limited wardrobe choice right now.” I checked the barding; it was little patchy in places and did whiff a little, but it would do the job.

“You obviously didn’t ransack the room hard enough,” the king replied snarkily. “There was plenty there for you to steal. Perhaps if you go back you may find something more to your taste?”

“Oh… shut up! Gods, for a hallucination you’re really starting to piss me off!” I huffed.

“Well pardon me!” Sombra snorted loudly, and flicked at his mane. “You’re the one who was sleeping in my bed, friend, so naturally I assumed you would be quite comfortable with rifling through my clothing as well.”

I didn’t answer him. Instead I strapped myself into my barding, checked my equipment, packs and gear, and turned to face him, “ You still here?”

“You’re asking me?” Sombra looked shocked. “And here I was thinking I was just a hallucination! Hang around a lot in your world do they, Fairlight? It was Fairlight, wasn’t it?”

“Yes.” I sighed and checked the sword on my hip, “All day long.”

“Jolly good.” Sombra reached out and pulled my cloak out from where it had got stuck around my pack, “There you go. Can’t stand to see a fellow improperly dressed. Not that… ‘this’ is properly dressed, but you work with what you’ve got I suppose.” He huffed, “Well then, I expect you’d better be off. I’d love to come along, but I’m afraid I have go and terrorise some foals. You know how it is.”

As I reached for the door, I paused. A shiver ran through me, but not of cold this time. There was something else at play here. Something that made my mane itch horribly. “You’re real… aren’t you,” I breathed.

“I’m not sure,” Sombra replied. “I’d like to think so.”

Gods, he was so infuriating! I rubbed my eyes and gritted my teeth, “The magic in the water’s poisoned me and I’m seeing things. I’m having a conversation with a stallion who can’t possibly be here, and yet I can physically interact with you. How?”

“You’d have to ask your princess about that,” the king smiled. “We don’t, um… ‘get along’ as well as we once did.”

“You ‘don’t get along’?!” My eyes went wide, “She locked you and your whole empire away in a dimensional bubble for all eternity!”

“The city,” Sombra corrected. “She locked the city away. The crystal empire is a lot, well, was, a lot more than just the capital. That’s why it’s called an empire, you see. I suspect the nearest you’ve come to an empire is the bloody theatre.”

I ignored the jibe. “So what, you’re a projection of some kind?” I asked. “A memory?”

“How should I know?!” Sombra made an exaggerated show of sighing, “You’re the one who began messing about with everything, so it stands to reason that I should be the one asking you that question!”

“I didn’t mess about with anything!” I snapped, “I just… That is, I...”

“Go on,” Sombra cut in. “We’re waiting.”

“Okay,” I said flicking my hoof. “So let’s say hypothetically I did do something that upset the magic here, I sure as hell didn’t fart around with that magical heart thing you mentioned. And I sure as hell didn’t blow up the portal either – your crazy weather did that without any help from me.” I tapped my hoof against my chest, “I’m stuck here. And believe me, I’d rather bloody well not be!”

“Well somepony has been doing things they shouldn’t have been doing, haven’t they?” Sombra rubbed his eyes and rolled his shoulders, “There I was, fast asleep, and then everything started… changing. I don’t know how else to put it, but you or you friends started something here.”

“Started… something?” I swallowed. I didn’t like the way this was going at all.

Sombra’s smile gave me goosebumps. “Can’t you feel it, Fairlight?” he asked quietly. “The city… the empire… its waking up. You pulled the cork from the bottle, and the djinn is out.”

“What?!” My hackles were going up like anyponies business, “It can’t be! That’s… that’s impossible!”

“Oh, but it is, my Equestrian friend.” Sombra fiddled with his mane, casually leaning against one of the tables as he watched me like a cat watching a mouse, “And there’s nothing you, nor I, can do to stop it.”

I stood and stared in shocked amazement, and then... I began to laugh. I held my hoof out, pointing to him and smiled, “Oh, very good! Very, very good! You had me going there, you really did. Looks like that magic stuff really buggered about with my head. All I’m waiting for now is the troupe of dancing marshmallows to bounce in and we’ll be set.”

“Well let me know when they do, I think I’d like to see that.” Sombra sat down on his haunches and looked at me askance, “I suppose I should ask: what are you planning on doing now?”

“I…” I swallowed, “I don’t know.” I instinctively touched my chest and the pendant beneath.

“Well you could stay here with us,” the king said with a smile. “I like you, Fairlight. You may not be one of our people, but you seem to be a fun sort to have around.”

“And stay in this dreamworld forever?” I shook my head, “I don’t think so.”

“Ah, yes. You still think this is a dream, don’t you. A ‘hallucination’.” Sombra’s eyebrows drew down over his green eyes and he smiled, showing just the faintest glint of teeth, “Everypony wakes up from the dream eventually, Lord Fairlight of the Four Winds: You, me, even the crystal empire. All it needs… is somepony to ring the bell. And you, or your friends, have done just that. What you do now though, is up to you.”

“Celestia will-”

“Celestia?!” Sombra barked out a laugh, “That old crone hasn’t a fraction of the power she once had. I can feel it from here! The magic keeping us locked in this dimension is as thin as a soap bubble about to burst. And when it does, then you will need to decide who your friends truly are… my dear wendigo.”

“You...” I closed me eyes, “You know what history said about you,” I said. “You waged war against Equestria. You went mad with power and became a monster.”

“A monster!” Sombra laughed. He shrugged dismissively, “Monster to some perhaps, an angel to others. We’re all monsters to our enemies, Fairlight. Me, You, Celestia, Luna, even the gods and goddesses. All of us. To a foal their parent chastising them is a monster. To a fallen enemy, their foe standing over them amidst the burning ruin of their home is a monster. It is our motivations that define who we are, not our actions as some would have you believe. And I would caution you to listen to your heart as well as your mind, and not the honeyed words of those who would use you as a tool.” Sombra chuckled, “There is only one tool a stallion needs, my friend, and that is the one between his legs.”

I had to laugh, and in fact I did. Gods, this whole situation was out of any semblance of control! The empire was waking up? What the hell did that mean? What, it was going to suddenly pop back up in Equestria like it had never been away and we’d all be friends again? And what about me? If the city appeared there in the mortal realm, how would I survive? I was a soul. I was dead. Would I be trapped there with nopony able to see me? Or worse, would I be hunted down by the former colleagues in the soul hunters and forcibly forged? It was entirely likely, after all I was a wanted stallion there now. Oh, Celestia… I thought I was going to barf…

“If I may make a suggestion?”

I looked up into those green eyes.

Sombra smiled, “Head to the docks. There is a ship there who has the magic to send you on your way. Her name is the Albacore. Give her my regards when you see her, won’t you?”

“She can send me home?” I asked in surprise. “Why don’t you use her to escape yourself?”

“Me?” Sombra began to laugh, “The Albacore may have many talents, my wendigo friend, but carry a whole empire in her hold? I don’t think so. You see, Fairlight, I am the empire, and the empire is me.” He gave me a knowing look, “Would you abandon your people to save yourself?”

“No,” I said levelly. “No I wouldn’t.”

“Capital! Then we understand one another perfectly.” Gently, Sombra shepherded me to the door, “A final word of advice, Lord Fairlight. When next we meet, I may be… a little ‘different’ from what you see now. My, what you may think of as ‘dallying’, with spirit magic did not turn out quite as well as I had hoped, and… well…. What happened to the empire was in part due to that. It is a burden I must carry all my days.”

“Spirit magic?” Suddenly the old songs and fragmented stories began to make more sense. “You wanted to become a wendigo?”

“Oh nothing quite so trite, my friend,” Sombra smiled. “No offence, you understand. No, I needed power to overcome our enemies. A lot of power. And so I did what any leader would do, and took whatever actions I could, by fair means or foul, to save my people. Our favourite princess however, did not agree with what I had done and...” he held up his hoof indicating the city around us, “the results speak for themselves.”

I stood there dumbfounded, not knowing what to say.

“Anyway, enough of this.” Sombra ushered me to the door and patted me firmly on the shoulder, “Good luck, my dear fellow. I hope when next we meet it will be in more, shall we say, salubrious surroundings?”

“Yes,” I managed. “Yes, I hope so.”

Abruptly Sombra paused. “Oh, I nearly forgot. Here...” With a deft flick of his hoof, the grey stallion tossed a small cube towards me which I quickly caught in my magic. It was the box Vela had taken from my pack. “You’ll be needing that,” the king said simply. “One of your ‘friends’ left it behind, and if there’s one thing I hate, it’s loose ends.”

The last image I saw of Sombra was a cheeky wink of those green eyes before the door closed with a loud click. Hmm! Well… that was interesting. I hoisted my packs into a more comfortable position and stared up at the sky. Did it seem a little brighter than it had earlier? Most of the puddles had dried up now and it felt quite pleasant out. I was about to head off when from across the courtyard something moved, catching my eye. A trick of the light? Or had that mare with the flowers moved slightly? She seemed, like the desk clerk, a little more… ‘colourful’ than she had before. Suddenly the ground shook, the scenery shifting, lurching, and then snapping back into focus and making my stomach move with it. A shiver ran through my spine. The mare was looking at me. She was... looking… right… at… me. My heart leaped into my throat, my eyes as wide as dinner plates. Any cognizant thought evaporated in that moment and I did the only sensible thing I could do in a situation like that: I dug my heels in and ran as fast as I could.

I knew they weren’t ghosts. Of course they weren’t. They were ponies, like me, just frozen by a spell cast thousands of years ago by Celestia. But oh, gods, how I ran. From down inside the hidden depths of my soul my magic shrieked for release, howling at me to let it free and loose to burn away my fear. But it was no use. That self same fear, that cold, stark, primordial terror, screamed in my mind far louder than anything even my magic could muster. I was plunging into a world of insanity, riding that knife edge between keeping my mind and losing it completely to my fears. Rational, irrational, madness, sanity; all of it blended and flowed, and along its course I ran like all the demons of hell were chasing after me. Roads flew by in a blistering whirlwind of hooves, streaming mane, tail and steaming hide. I couldn’t keep up this pace for long, not with all the barding, weapons and equipment. I’d have to slow down, rest myself, but where? And how? If I stopped now I might… they could… oh, gods, my chest was on fire! Rocketing around a corner I fought to regain control of my own body, convincing myself I would be safe soon, and that all I needed to do was check the pendant and then I could- Was that a mast up ahead? What had Sombra said? Head to the docks? I lifted my pendant; it was pointing right at it! Oh thank you, Celestia! Thank you, thank you! I dropped the pendant back inside my tunic and felt for the first time that morning the taste of hope. And it tasted good. Damned good. Suddenly the world lurched again. Stronger this time, with the world heaving back and forth before righting itself. Somewhere in the background I could hear… things. Water? Seagulls? I looked up and saw something white fly over head, while along the dock road I saw a stallion put down a plank of wood and look around in surprise. Colours, bright and vibrant, began to slowly leach back into the buildings, showing the various striations and rainbow pinpricks of light. Sombra was right, the empire was waking up. Waking at a frightening rate. If I didn’t get the hell out of here I would probably be going along for the ride too, and I can’t say I was exactly enamoured with the prospect of finding out the hard way what would happen to me. And so, taking a deep breath, I unleashed the magic that had been straining so hard to be free, and launched into the air.

Now a lot of ponies, pegasus of course, would tell you that ‘launching’ up into the sky was a thing of graceful beauty, and in some cases, an eye watering display of speed. Unfortunately they’d never seen a wendigo taking off. Dragon-like wings, similar to a thestral’s, were ungainly things at the best of times and didn’t so much lift you into the air as batter it into submission. ‘Lumbering’ was a good word to describe it, especially during the first few flaps of my wings. But the main thing was that it worked, even if I did clip a few roofs on the way up, it was still worth it. From up here, soaring over the city, I felt safe, and I could finally appreciate the sheer scale of the empire’s capital.

The view across the city was just as I had dreamt all those years ago as a school child, and more. Much more. Like millions of sparkling gems, sprinkled around a spider’s web of long straight roads, everything converged on the single greatest gem of all: the palace of the king. Speaking of whom, how come he had a room in the compound? Not that it mattered of course, the guy was king and could have a room wherever he wanted after all. But it did seem a bit weird that he was hanging around the compound near the portal. Perhaps I was over analysing things, like for example why was I thinking about kipping in Sombra’s bed when I should be trying to find my way out of this mad house before all hell broke loose. There was also a part of me that felt horribly guilty too. Not so much because I had been instrumental in the return of the empire, but because I didn’t feel particularly concerned about it. In fact, as terrible as it may sound, I felt… exhilarated. To have the lands of my people returned was beyond words, but to have the empire come back too filled me with an intense feeling of anticipation, and hope. The past it seemed, was not necessarily lost forever. It was possible to rebuild, to take from the ashes of the old and build anew, yet still retain our history and keep our heritage alive for a new generation to take forward. And perhaps, even now, I could do just that.

I flew up over the buildings, clearing the spires, the towers and steeples, until I saw her. By the gods she was… extraordinary. With powerful stroke of my wings I banked up and round, circling the ship riding at anchor on the dockside while the sea bubbled and churned, disappearing into the peculiar swirling cloud where it would once have joined the rest of the waters of the mortal realm. It was a sight I wish I could have captured forever. The ship herself was surprisingly equestrian in design: long and sleek with three tall masts, her black and gold painted sides giving her the illusion of swift movement even whilst stationary. She was clearly built for speed, yet with her decks lined with heavy catapulta and ballista there was no mistaking what her true purpose was. The racks of weapons sitting oiled, greased, and ready for action were out of place on such a graceful vessel, yet quite deadly nonetheless. I swooped down and swept between the fore and middle mast, listening to the sound of the sea against her hull as the song of the waves called to her. Calling to me. She was undeniably magnificent, and bore a beauty far beyond the power of mere words to give justice to her description. She was The Albacore. Her voice slipped through the air, dancing around her sails and rigging. And I answered. Without effort, without thought, my magic flowed around me, merging with her music, with the joy of life and memory, of dancing and love.

Are you my Captain?

I hovered above her quarterdeck, keeping station as carefully as I could and taking in her gentle voice like the very finest wine. “Your song is so beautiful,” I answered softly, “my lady of the sea.”

Good sir, may I ask what you seek?

I closed my eyes and smiled, “I wish only to go home, my lady. His majesty gave me leave to call upon you to seek your aid in my quest.”

Indeed? Then may I invite you come to me, sir, and we shall talk, you and I.

Carefully, I descended. I had to be gentle with her. I had to be... respectful. She was a ship of such unimaginable grace, yet still a vessel of war. Who knew what she had seen or where she had been, and the countless memories that lay within her. Without pause I alighted upon her deck before the wheel. My hooves itched desperately to take her helm, to lay them up that dark wooden wheel and lead her away from this terrible place. To freedom. Caution meant nothing to me now. Now, the magic had me, and by the gods I let it have its way with me. I was happy, for the first time in as long as I could remember. She was with me, and I with her, and it felt good. It felt… right.

“My, you are an interesting one, my good sir. I don’t believe I have ever laid eyes upon a stallion such as you. May I be so bold as to ask your name?”

Like the ship around us, the mare was simply breathtaking in her beauty. Her coat was as blue as the deepest ocean and as dark as the northern midnight sky, while her mane and tail were a fall of purest snowy white. She wore a dress of black and silver, trimmed in red hints that showed only the barest amount of hoof beneath splashes of elegant white lace. On her head she wore a small black hat at a dainty angle, pinned to her mane within a nest of delicate black netting. Beneath it, bright scarlet eyes watched me with a hidden intensity that called to the lonely corners of my heart.

I bowed, “My lady, my name is Fairlight, a traveller seeking his way home.”

“A traveller!” The mare smiled demurely behind her hoof, “And such a handsome one, too!” I could feel my cheeks blush as those scarlet eyes observed me. “They call me Albacore, Master Fairlight.”

“They call you?” I smiled politely. “What name do you prefer, my lady?”

The mare paused a moment in thought, “Scylla,” she said quietly. “You may call Scylla, if you wish.”

“If it pleases you, my lady Scylla.” I bowed again, “Forgive me, I seem to be a little confused. Is this ship not the Albacore? I thought-”

“Shhh...” The mare lay a hoof on my shoulder and I felt a shiver of magic ring through my body as clear as a bell. “No need to worry yourself about such things, master… no, Lord Fairlight? Yes?”

“I… Yes,” I said quietly. “Some call me that.”

“Then perhaps we have some things in common, yes?” Scylla smiled faintly and held up her hoof, “A fine wind is coming, Lord Fairlight, and with it, a most pleasant tide.” She slowly traced my jawline with a gentle hoof, sending a tingle of electricity through my spine, “And a lady must leave with the tide, must she not?”

“I… I’m not sure,” I breathed. “I…”

Scylla brushed past me, leaving a scent of meadowsweet tantalising my nostrils. My muscles twitched in response, eliciting a faint girlish giggle from the mare. “I’m sure,” she whispered close to my ear. “I’m always sure.” I felt something run up my foreleg, guiding me, drawing me onward. “Come, Lord Fairlight. To find the way home you must bring me the key. Together we can navigate the stars themselves to the shores of heaven and beyond.”

“The key...” I murmured. I blinked in surprise, “What key?”

“Why, the key you have in pack, silly.” Scylla flicked her tail and began to walk towards the stairs down to the main deck, “Come along now, my wendigo stallion. Your lady has need of your… services.”

My services? I had to hurry, I couldn’t keep her waiting! Quickly I caught up with her and remained a respectful distance behind her as she reached the doors that lead deeper into the ship. “Follow,” she whispered over her shoulder, “What you seek lies deep within me.”

I shivered involuntarily. Magic seethed through my veins, through my mind and my soul, overriding my consciousness in a blissful sea of happiness. This mare, this beautiful creature, had me completely in her thrall… and I let her have her way. By all the gods, I let her. Nothing else mattered now, only my time with her and my willingness to fulfil her every possible desire. It felt so right to be near her, so natural, that I followed her in a near dream like state. Around us the magical lanterns of the Albacore flickered on as we passed by, one after another lighting the way into the bowels of the ancient vessel. The smell of wood and perfume was an enthralling mix of rich and sweet, with the background of the saltiness of the sea adding its own notes to the symphony of sensation. Dreamily I followed her, deeper and ever deeper, until finally... she stopped.

Carefully, Scylla ran her hoof over the small wooden door. “Here,” she whispered, “Here is my heart. Few gentlecolts have touched me, Lord Fairlight, and even fewer have seen me as I truly am.” She looked at me, her scarlet eyes catching the lamplight, “Would you… like to touch me?”

“Yes,” I breathed. “Yes, I would.”

I think my heart was hammering so loud she must have heard it, for she smiled and reached for me, slipping her hooves around my neck, “You must use the key to open my heart, my lord.” Her breath tickled my ear and I quivered helplessly. “Come… touch me, my wendigo. Breath your magic into me.”

Scylla’s lips brushed mine, gentle and soft, and then a little more, until I gave in to her. Her tongue danced across my own, exploring my teeth and mouth, tasting the magic within. And I gave it to her. Drop by drop I let her take what she wanted, drawing from me and filling herself until she was sated. It was ecstasy. The purest bliss. But then, as always, it ended. Scylla broke the kiss with a gasp, her eyes wide and staring, a tiny trickle of silver dribbling down her muzzle which she brushed away and licked sensuously. “That,” she moaned, “was… amazing!” She suddenly grabbed me, and much to my surprise and delight, nipped me hard on the ear, “Mmm! Delectable! Now,” she smiled from beneath her brows, “Now, you may use the key.”

I wasn’t sure what she meant, but as she opened the door I saw the black box edged in silver, glowing within. Beneath it a space sat for something else. Something that sat inside my pack. Carefully, I reached back and took it out.

“The key,” Scylla said breathily. “With it I can take you home.”

“Home?” I wasn’t sure. I… I was home, wasn’t I? Here, with her. I looked at her in confusion.

Scylla chuckled, “Oh, my lord, I understand. I truly do. This must all be so confusing to you, and I forget what it is like for a captain who boards me for the very first time. And one so overflowing with such promise too.” She took my hoof, guiding me to her. “One lies beneath the other,” she whispered, “One bears my soul, safe and secure and away from naughty eyes. The one you hold in you hoof is the key that will show me the way to your deepest desire. We are all seekers of experience, my lord, be it adventure, excitement, or perhaps the more simple of pleasures.” Steadily, carefully, she helped me forward, slipping the box into the alcove - beneath the soul of the ship herself.

“Oh...” Scylla closed her eyes and shivered, “Oh… my! I… I haven’t felt anything like this for so long! So, so, long!” The mare stumbled against the wooden wall, breathing heavily and I noticed her hind legs trembling as a blush rushed to her cheeks. Abruptly she grabbed the door and slammed it shut. “Now! You come with me, my beautiful wendigo. Come! Come, come, come!” Suddenly she let out a nicker and took off along the corridor. What was happening? Why was…? Oh, gods, I didn’t want to be left here on my own. I had to follow her. I had to move!

I neighed, and with a turn of speed that surprised even myself, I set off after her. The lamps lit the way; pools of yellow light dotting the path to the stairs, and then the next corridor, the stairs, and the next corridor, and the… the light! I burst up onto the deck and turned, throwing myself through the doors of the captain’s cabin, steaming and breathing hard. Before me the mare stood, her back to me. Slowly, deliberately, she turned to me. Rich scarlet eyes as red as blood stared straight into my soul.

Her words, so delicate, so sensual and inviting, arrowed into my heart, “What’s your pleasure, sir?”

Any self control I had left vanished in that moment. It was need. Desperate, raw burning need consumed me utterly and I threw myself at her: pawing, kissing… urgent. Packs, equipment, clothing; all it lay where it fell, kicked and trampled in a storm of burning desire. The maps and cartography equipment, sitting peacefully for over a thousand years, were swept from the table as I lifted her onto the ancient wood, our lips locked together and tongues searching one another. She drew from me as I drew from her, sharing her magic as she revelled in mine. Fog flowed around my crystal hooves, my wings shaking with the naked excitement that had taken me completely in its embrace. And there, together, we shared each other beneath the sky of the crystal empire.

********************

Dreams. Some good, some bad. I used to dread what sleep would bring despite my body crying out for nothing more than a peaceful rest to recover from the day and prepare me for the one ahead. But peace is a fleeting thing - on many levels. Memories of the cabin, of Gates and Melon Patch, the fire, the brutality, the pain… Even death did nothing to sooth my tortured soul. All the therapy, all the magic and the very finest quackery that the herd had to offer did nothing to help me. It was only when I regained my magic, my true magic, that I began to heal inside. It was there, deep in the darkest corners and crevices of my soul that the scars of my life had tainted the very essence of who I was. And it was there that the magic of the wendigo brought its chill light of winter. I had often ruminated on how something so cold, something so utterly devoid of emotion, could bring so much warmth. Without it I felt empty, lost, and alone. When it was asleep it was like a lovers embrace in the darkest of nights. And when it was aroused…then I knew what true power was. It was a spirit of such raw strength and drive that it took all I had to bend it to my will. And in the end I had succeeded. But not because of a force of will, but rather understanding, and acceptance. I had become the spirit and it had become a part of me: joining, blending and melding with my own self until there was only one. What I had become would never be the same again.

Tonight, flying through the sea of stars, the ship sang to me. She was alive, full of joy and dreams once more. Awakened from her slumber by the tolling of the bell, the song of the empire had come to the world of life once again. Scylla sat with my head in her lap, stroking my mane as gently as a mother with her foal. And I was happy. So, so happy.

“Are you asleep?” she cooed.

I smiled, “I’m dreaming.”

“Then it is a good dream.” Scylla leaned down and kissed me on the muzzle, “Soon it will be time to awake, my lord. Soon.”

“Will you be there when I do?” I asked.

Scylla smiled, looking up at the distant blanket of stars around us. “I will be with you in your heart, my lord,” she breathed, “but I believe we shall meet again. Fate has a way of bringing wayward souls together.”

“Is that what I am?” I snuggled into her fur and felt her warmth against my face. “Am I a wayward soul?”

“Wilful, unpredictable...” She chuckled, “Exciting.” Scylla let out a long sensuous moan, “I think so. Don’t you?”

“Mmm...” I felt so comfortable here. So warm and safe. “You took some of my magic,” I said quietly. “You could have taken more if you’d wanted. I would have given you everything.”

“I know,” she replied softly, “and that was why I wouldn’t let you.” Scylla gave me a gentle squeeze, “You gave me far more than I needed, my lord. I saw your soul, and I saw your heart. You are wicked, and yet you are kind. You have such love to give and yet are burdened by grief and pain which weighs down your soul.”

I kissed her leg, resisting the building urge to do more. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

Scylla’s laugh was so feminine, so full of lightness of heart, that it made my own sing out to her. “No!” she chuckled, “You didn’t hurt me. You shared yourself with me, and I with you.” She took my ear in her mouth and gave it a nibble, “I have never slept with a wendigo before, and I have to say, it was everything I thought it would be.”

“And now?” I asked, peering down at my grey body.

“Another dimension,” she replied happily. “And what fun we could have, my lord.”

“I… I’m not sure I want to-”

“Shhh...” Scylla placed her hoof on my lips, “No more of that now. I know what you’re thinking, and I know what lies inside your heart remember? But what you seek is not mine to give. There is another who waits for you, even now. When you awake, you shall see.”

“I don’t want to wake,” I said selfishly. “I want to stay and dream with you forever.”

“And that is why you must sleep,” Scylla whispered in my ear. “Before the magic awakes, and the dream comes to an end.” She kissed me on the muzzle with her soft lips, “Sleep now, my stallion. Sleep...”

I closed my eyes and let the night pass by as silently as the stars above. Beneath me the Albacore sailed on, her full sails taken by the wind of the universe and taking us to whatever end that awaited us. Scylla… Ah, Scylla. She was so perfect, so magnificent, that right then I would have been happy to stay in her embrace until the end of time. To sleep there with her beneath the beauty of the cosmos was an experience beyond comprehension. In fact to me, this was heaven. Not the herd, not the fields of green and gold where the rivers run with water as pure as the first melt of snow. No. It was this, here, right here on the deck of this wondrous ship amidst the sea of stars as we sailed on into eternity. I didn’t need anything more. I didn’t want anything more. I was so tired of everything and just wanted to rest, dozing happily in the embrace of a mare who wanted nothing more than to be with me. It wasn’t much to ask, was it? To stay here in this world of dreams.

But it was not to be.

It never was.

When I awoke all I could feel was cold. Icy, bone chilling cold. There was no air, nothing but a dull, faint white light all around me. Figures, indistinct and shadowy, moved around me, their voices muted and faint. And then I was alone again, lying in that cocoon, that tomb of solid ice. And death. I didn’t want this. I didn’t want any of this! I tried to move but my body was stuck solid. I tried to breath, but there was no air. I couldn’t breath! I couldn’t get out! Panic flooded my mind and body, sending surges of strength and energy out to every nerve ending, every muscle, tendon and joint. Where was Scylla? Where was the ship? Oh gods... no, NO! I had to get out of this somehow. I had to get free! I reached for the magic, I tried so hard, and yet every it- YES! In a burst of unleashed fury, Fire and magic surged up from within me, howling for release, burning with the urgent desperation to live. TO LIVE! In a scream that cracked the heavens the world turned a brilliant blue as the ice detonated outwards in an explosion of shrapnel that flew in every direction. Shards ricocheted off the walls, clattering and clinking off every surface as it fell, bouncing down to earth. Like some demon of the old tales I rose up, my wings shaking off the rapidly melting ice that had cocooned me, my voice croaking at first and then howling out to the moon and stars. Good gods, I… I was alive… I was alive! My burning blue gaze took in the room, the table, the upended chairs, the pile of furs, the burning fire in the hearth and the creature staring at me from the open doorway with eyes as blue as my own.

Our eyes met.

“Mother?” The small things eyes went wider than ever, its mouth opening in a yell that matched my own. “MOTHER!” And again, louder, “MOTHER!”

I lifted a hoof but the thing darted away, leaving me to extricate my legs and hooves from the shattered block of ice. Goddesses, I felt absolutely terrible, and I was so thin! I gazed down at my legs, or what I presumed were mine, they looked like they belonged to some doddery ninety year old. I felt it too: gangly, weak, and horribly tired all at the same time. Shaken and disorientated I stumbled free of my frozen tomb, collapsing into heap on the large worn rug. It took a few seconds to orientate myself, but what was really focussing my mind was the driving need for food. And the pot of stew simmering over the fire. My nose twitched. Meat. Dear gods, the smell of meat! Under normal circumstances shoving my muzzle into a pot of red hot stew probably wouldn’t have been my first choice regardless of how hungry I was. But right then and there I just didn’t care. Concentrating, I let the right amount of magic flow out to cool the pot while I gorged myself senseless. Mouthful after mouthful, scorchingly hot at first, but then better, more flavoursome, and so mouthwateringly good. Oh, it was so good! My slobbering, slurping and belching noises from inside the pot echoed in the small room, making me sound like some kind of foul monster from the swamps ripping apart its prey. But did I care? Gods, no! All too soon I’d reach the bottom and pulled my muzzle out. I smacked my lips. Drink. I was thirsty. What was that in that jug? Quick as a flash I was on it, sniffing at the contents. Ginger? Good. Oh, very good! I upended it and all but sluiced the whole lot into my mouth and down my throat. It didn’t matter about etiquette, all I wanted was to fill the hollowness in my body, to fill my deflated hide and taste food once more. It felt like an eternity since I had last eaten, and to find this next to me when I awoke! Incredible! I let out a rip roaring belch that my old mates in watch would have been proud of. Come to think of it, I would have given Heather and the gang a run for their money. And by Luna’s rosy arse cheeks, could they belch!

Something moved in the doorway. Again. I put down the jug and turned slowly, my burning blue eyes focussing on… not the child, but…

“Fairlight?” The black creature with the oil black mane and eyes like burning fires stared at me in amazement, “Fairlight, is that you?” Her eyes slipped from me to the fragments of rapidly melting ice and then back again, fixing on me with a fierce intensity.

My ears stood up straight, my mane bristling. It couldn’t be, could it? But… but it was. Dear goddesses, what was she doing here? What was I doing here?! Was I dreaming? Oh gods, I was wasn’t I? The whole thing: the ship, the crystal empire, Tartarus, all of it. I’d been in a coma or a deep sleep or… or something, all this time. I tried to speak, but there were no words. My mind was a blank, my mouth suddenly dry despite my sated thirst. It was all too much, and far too soon. I sank to my haunches, still staring at her.

I as much mouthed her name as said it aloud, “Shadow?”

She took a step forward, slowly, and carefully. Her flame red eyes were full of wariness, but also fascination. She hadn’t expected this, that much was obvious, but was I so strange to her eyes? Ah… of course. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, letting the magic go. The familiar flush of ice cold ran through my veins as I became my old self, my pony self, once more.

“Better?” I asked quietly.

Shadow closed her eyes and turned her head away, but then, warily, she looked back once more. “Fairlight.” Her bottom lip trembled, her shining black hooves shifting uncertainly, and then, in a burst of movement that was as shocking as it was heart warming, she threw herself at me.

I was ready, letting her come to me with forelegs outstretched and a whoop of joy that echoed around the room as much as her own. My happiness in that moment, in that room, was a thing that could have been sung about in legend. But right then I’d be happy to keep it just for us. Why share ourselves with the world when the world had done nothing but cause us pain and suffering? Why let anypony know? And yet… and yet I wanted to. I wanted to scream and shout and bellow and neigh and… and… “SHADOW!” I swept her off her hooves and squeezed her for all I was worth, “Oh, goddesses I’ve missed you so much. I- Mmf!” Her lips locked with mine, and with a heavy beat of her wings carried me to the floor atop the old bare rug. She was like a huge black leather barnacle, stuck to me and crushing my sides in response to my own hugs. Her tongue, teeth and lips ravaged me, and I let her. I let her have her way with me and it felt so right, so wonderful, that I could have melted away and slipped through the cracks in the floor and off into infinity. Eventually though even this insatiable creature had to come up for air, and thank the gods she did. Any longer and I would have blacked out!

“You are alive,” Shadow huffed, rubbing her hooves over me. “Alive. You. Are. Alive.” She began to laugh, “You are alive!”

“Yup!” I lay back and stroked her forelegs with my hooves, “I’m back.” Suddenly a thought popped into my head: the memory of an explosion. Fire. I felt down my sides, my legs, and… “I’m in one piece?” I asked uncertainly.

Shadow nodded, tossing her head to move some stray mane hairs, “You were asleep.” She motioned over to where a now large puddle of water had appeared where the ice that had encased me had been mere moments ago.

“You’ve been here with me all this time?” I asked. “You stayed with me?”

Shadow nodded again, huffing a small wisp of smoke from her nostrils, “I stayed. Now, we stay.”

“We?” I wasn’t sure what she meant, but decided to put that line of thought aside for now. “Where are we, love? The fortress?” I already knew the answer. The weren’t too many structures in Equestria that were made of translucent blue-white stone that held its own light the way this did. From memory I wasn’t familiar with this room, but the only intact ones were well inside the fortress where the damage was less severe. “How in Equestria did you get in here?”

“The door,” Shadow replied simply.

Well if there’s a way in, there’s a way out, I reasoned. But what had she been eating and drinking while she’d been here? How come… Hang on… The pot of stew. The jug of ginger beer! Oh gods, I’d scoffed the lot! “Shadow, I’ve… um… I’ve eaten all your dinner.” I squeezed my eyes shut, expecting a whack to come in at any moment. “I’m sorry!” But no thump came. Instead, only the softest brush of her lips against mine.

“I always make more,” she whispered. “In case you woke.”

“Well, I did,” I said lasciviously, “and I’m still a little hungry.”

“Hungry?”

“Mmm...” I reached up and licked her muzzle ever so slightly, “Very hungry.”

Shadow giggled the way only Shadow could, shivering deliciously beneath my touch. Slowly, she reached down, searching, looking for her prize. I closed my eyes, taking in every movement, every little-

“Mummy?”

“Mmm… Sha-” My eyes flicked open, “Mummy?”

“What are you doing to my mummy?” Shadow and I both turned to stare at the small thing glaring at me with bright blue eyes. “Are you that monster? Get away from my mummy!” Suddenly the tiny beast launched itself at me in a flurry of whirring wings and surprisingly hard hooves.

“Gah! Shadow, what the hell is this- OW! Blood hell fire, my head! OUCH!” What felt like a very heavy book smashed into my forehead, making stars appear in my now blurry vision, “Get it off me for Luna’s sake!” Trapped beneath Shadow and under assault from some small dragon-like thing wielding books, it was all I could do to fend off the near constant attacks. Unfortunately several still got through and my poor muzzle took a good old fashioned thumping. Thank the gods Shadow was able to snap her wing out to protect me.

“Horizon, stop!” Shadow’s voice brooked no nonsense, and both the small thing and I froze. “Do not hit your father. This is wrong.”

“Thanks!” I exclaimed gratefully, “That little beggar packs quite a punch.” Bloody hell, she did too! Shadow slid off me and I was able to get to my hooves so I could escape the diminutive aggressor. I was half way to the ginger ale jug to see if there was anything left when reality finally started knocking on my thick skull. “Shadow?” I closed my eyes and tried to keep my voice steady, “Who did you say the foal is again?”

“Horizon’s Dawn,” came the reply.

“And you’re her mother?”

Shadow nodded emphatically, “Yes.”

“Oh.” I cleared my throat, “And… um...” I glanced down at the creature, from her to Shadow, and then to my reflection in the mirror on the wall. I looked like what I was – a pony. The blue eyes were back though, and… yes, the funny white lightning flash for a cutie mark too. I felt a bit deflated now. Shadow was still the thestral I remembered, but this thing, this ‘Horizon’s Dawn’, was… I wasn’t sure. I’d never seen one so small before. She was pony shaped alright, but those vertical pupils, the bat like wings, the sharp teeth, the little tufts on her ears… I swallowed, “She’s a bat pony.”

“She is a daughter of the goddess,” Shadow smiled happily. “She is ours.”

“Ours,” I echoed, “Well she can’t be ours, as in you and me, right? I mean, she’s not our biological foal, is she. She’s what, about four years old or so? So what did you do, adopt her?” Suddenly I felt like my stomach had fallen out of my backside, “Oh gods, Shadow, you didn’t find her did you? I know you were probably lonely, but if you wanted a pet you could have taken Tarragon with you, or-”

Shadow’s face darkened, which is quite the sight on a thestral. “She is not a pet. She is our daughter.”

“You just said she’s a daughter of the goddess,” I said trying to make sense of it all. “Which unless you’re being metaphorical means she’s a bat pony. And bat ponies are… that is to say they’re born from...” Suddenly my hind legs gave out and I flopped onto the floor. Reality could be a real bitch at times, and to make things just that little bit worse, the blue-grey thing stood there in absolute silence watching me from behind her mother. “Oh gods,” I whispered, “This isn’t happening. It can’t be. I’m-”

“A father?” Star Swirl the bearded sashayed into the room, an open book floating before him in his magic. “I expect congratulations are in order? A little late, granted, but they’re there nonetheless.”

My body reacted on its own, sitting bolt upright. “What the hell are you doing here?!” I couldn’t believe my eyes and ears. That damned grey coated bastard was here too?! Quick as a flash I released my grip on the magic and felt the power surging through me once more, “Haven’t you done enough damage to my life, you filthy rat?” I roared. “Get out of here before I tear you to pieces!”

“Not in front of the child, eh, Lord Fairlight.” The unicorn clucked his tongue at me as though chastising a naughty school colt. “Now, if you’re quite done with the amateur dramatics we have some work to attend to?”

“Oh, no.” I dropped into a defensive stance, the fog starting to build around my hooves, “Oh, no, no ,no, Wizard. You stole my wife, you stole my-”

“MUMMY!” The filly’s shriek cut through me like a knife as she leaped into her mother’s forelegs, “Mummy, I’m scared!”

To my shame I rounded on Shadow, my eyes blazing blue in the building magical field, “Get her out of here, Shadow. NOW!”

“No!” Shadow stood her ground, defiance radiating from her as her eyes blazed like branding irons pressed into my soul.

I don’t what madness gripped me in that moment, maybe it was the culmination of everything that I’d endured these last few days, but whatever it was, all I could feel right then was a flaring anger that threatened to sweep away any reason I had left. I took a breath and smiled, shaking my head. “So, you’ve even turned Shadow against me now have you, Wizard.” I looked up at him from under my brows, “Meadow. Shadow. Have you been ploughing Tingles too?”

“Were you always so infuriatingly obtuse?” Star Swirl sniffed. “Or is it a side effect of being a wendigo? I can’t remember.”

“But I can remember!” I bared my teeth, letting the pure magical essence drip between them onto the floor, “I should have killed you long ago.”

“Hmm? Maybe. But then, where would you be now if you had?” Star Swirl pulled up a chair and sat down as if it were his own study in his own bloody house! “Been chatting with our new friends have we?” he asked casually. “Busy filling your head with all sorts of mystical nonsense and fantasy no doubt. What, planning on aiding and abetting the enemies of Equestria now are we?” Star Swirl barked out a laugh, “Well if you are you’re damned fool. Even the most ignorant dullard can see you can’t trust Vela, Fairlight, and if there’s any modicum of sense left in that dimwitted skull of yours, you already know that yourself without me telling you.” He pointed a hoof at me, “You can’t trust him.”

I stood my ground and gave him one of my more sardonic sneers, “But I can trust you, can I, Wizard? I can believe every single honeyed word that spills from your mouth?”

“No.” Star Swirl waved a hoof at Shadow and she left the room with Horizon like a good little puppet. “I use ponies, Fairlight.” The old wizard’s voice was calm, and full of the ageless knowledge of the world. “I use them, I lie to them when I have to, but everything I do I do for the good of Equestria and the Eternal Herd. I am myself an instrument of the gods, and my life is theirs to do with as they will.”

“As mine is to do with as you will apparently,” I replied levelly. “And you have been very busy indeed haven’t you?”

“No more than you, I fear.” The grey unicorn took off his hat and scrubbed his mane, “I try to be honest with you, my boy.” He held up a hoof, “And you may take that as you will, but know this: I am not the only one who plays the game, hidden behind the curtain of life and death. There are others too. And those others I can assure you are far, far worse than I.” He took out a pipe and filled it, passing it to me while he filled his own. “You have met one already. And, I suspect, one of the greatest players of them all.”

My head was spinning with it all and I let go of the magic, giving my body the rest it so desperately needed. “I don’t know who you mean,” I said, watching him warily.

“Oh, I think you do.” Star Swirl leaned forward to accept a light, “You see,” he said casually leaning back in his chair, “there are ponies around even today whose interest in history has lead them into places that no mortal pony was ever meant to venture. I dare say that there are those too who yearn for that very same history to, quite literally, repeat itself. With a different outcome of course, but then we always look back on our history with the proverbial rose tinted glasses do we not?”

“What’s your point, Star Swirl?” I asked irritably.

The wizard nodded to himself, no doubt pleased as punch that had my full attention. “My point, my boy, is that your meddling has set events in motion that we are not prepared for. Oh, they would have happened eventually of course, but prophesy is a fickle thing and rarely gives dates and times that one could accurately predict.” The grey wizard took a pull on his pipe, “I had predicted that your encounter with Vela would have been a little more, mmm, less than amicable?” He huffed, “It would appear however, that he has outplayed me.”

“You mean you thought I would kill him, right?” I shook my head in amazement, “And what would you have done then, wizard? Left me there to die in that damned place? Become a statue, lost in time forever?”

Star Swirl took a long draw on his pipe, letting the smoke trickle up towards the ceiling, “Better that than thousands dead. A simple trade: one life for countless.”

I stomped a hoof as anger gripped my heart, “You could have told me!”

“And what would you have said, hmm?” Star Swirl huffed. “Would you have left your wife, your herd and your tribe, to sacrifice yourself based on nothing more than my word?” He snorted, “When I know the answer, I don’t need to ask the question.”

“You’re always so sure of yourself, aren’t you, Star Swirl.” I took a pull on my own pipe and let the remnants of my magic slip away like rain through a grate. “You always were.”

“I have to be,” he replied quietly. “Without order there is only chaos. Without light there is only darkness. Somepony needs to guide the gentle folk of Equestria, Fairlight. And I, as much as you may hate me for it, do what must be done to guide all of us.”

“And who guides you, wizard?” I stretched out and leaned my back against the wall, “The gods you say? Or are they really no more than the manifestations of your own desires? Can you even be sure of the difference any more?”

“Hah! Maybe not, my boy. Maybe not.” Star Swirl lifted up his pack and floated out a small cube that… My eyes went wide. That shape, that slick black oily finish with the gold and silver filigree. There was no doubting what that was. “I see you know what this is,” the wizard said from under his bushy brows. “Another surprise from our wendigo friends?”

“I don’t know how you got that,” I said quietly, “but it’s the only reason we’re having this discussion.”

“The ‘reason’ we’re having this discussion, Fairlight,” Star Swirl corrected, “is that you have undone something that took the combined magics of the daughters of the gods to create!”

I let out a loud neigh. “You think that imprisoning thousands of ponies in another dimension, frozen in time neither alive nor dead is something to be proud of?!” I roared, “I think you need to reassess who your friends are, wizard. A mare who would lock her own sister away for a thousand years and sentence countless innocents to a nightmarish hell for even longer still, is a mare whom I think even you would question regarding her sanity!”

“Celestia not insane, boy.” Star Swirl jabbed his pipe at me, “I can assure you of that.”

“Can you?” I threw my hooves in the air in exasperation, “When just one genocide isn’t enough eh? So what is it now? Is she going to pop up in the empire and finish the job, or is she going to send in some poor bastard like me to mow them down?” I shook my head, “Well, she’ll have a job now. The pendants gone, my weapons have gone, and I’m just one guy. You have an army, remember? Those guys are paid to do things like this. It’ll give them something practical to do instead of pissing about polishing their sodding armour all day while the ponce around the palace”

Instead of the expected angry retort, Star Swirl smiled absently as he tamped down his tobacco before taking another puff, “You want something. Don’t you?” He swirled his pipe round in the air through the blue smoke. “Your people returned? The ones living up in the northern wastes, yes?” I kept quiet and let him continue, “What if I told you there was something already in your possession that could, metaphorically, turn back time and bring back the world your ancestors knew so well. Would that gel with your moral compass?”

My gaze never left him, “Celestia would never agree to it.”

“Celestia will do what she is told,” Star Swirl replied levelly. “Her parents can be most persuasive.”

“Ah, yes,” I grinned. “She’s a chip off the old block, isn’t she. You know what they did to the thestrals, don’t you? You also know about the ‘gifts’, am I right?”

“What I ‘know’, is not something I can necessarily do anything about.” Star Swirl raised an eyebrow, “There was a king once, Fairlight. A king who believed he could challenge the stars themselves to do battle for control of the heavens. He raged and screamed at them all night long, night after night for months, furious that they denied him his goddess given right to yield to his perceived royal divinity.”

“And the moral is?”

“Always check behind you.” Star Swirl peered into his pipe and clucked his tongue, “An assassin put a dagger in his back, thus bringing his reign to a very abrupt end. Some may say he paid the price for alienating his own people.”

“Or that he was as mad as a fish and somepony had had enough of him,” I reasoned.

“True,” Star Swirl conceded, “but can’t both be true at the same time?”

“Of course,” I agreed. “So you’re saying Celestia will tow the line?”

“I think she may be persuaded to be more agreeable.” He tapped his pipe out on his hoof and threw the blackened remains into the fireplace, “Provided, naturally, that she can rely on somepony to help her in her country’s time of need.”

“Naturally.” I shook my head and sighed, feeling the initiative, if I’d ever had it in the first place, inexorably slipping back to the usual culprit, “So, what’s next then oh wise wizard?”

“Ah, well that’s simple,” Star Swirl replied. “The empire will return.”

I froze. Surely he didn’t mean what I thought he meant, right? “What do you mean, ‘it will return’?” I asked. “You mean literally, as in the whole city just popping up out of nowhere? Sure, I thought the magic would fail and the people would wake up, potentially leading to them trying to come to Equestria, but an entire city?” I shook my head in disbelief, “It doesn’t seem possible.”

“I can assure you it is,” Star Swirl said in his matter-of-fact manner. “The princesses plucked the whole city up and locked it into a dimensional pocket. The land though… Ah, the land...” He smiled as he waved his hoof knowingly, “The land remembers.”

“But you’re talking about a possible invasion force,” I murmured. “The whole of the empire was at war at the time, and they’ll doubtless have troops there in the city. If they suddenly pop up out of nowhere in the middle of Equestria I don’t know what’ll happen, but it won’t be good, that’s for damned sure.”

“I imagine they could be a little vexed,” Star Swirl said with nod.

“‘Vexed...’” I shifted my legs and groaned. “I met him, you know. The king.”

“Sombra?” Star Swirl leaned forward, his eyes suddenly keen. “How did he appear to you?”

“Just like any other pony I’ve ever met,” I said quietly, “but one that seemed to genuinely care for his people. I know the old stories about him, Star Swirl, but what I saw was a stallion who had real love in his heart for his homeland. I didn’t see any sign of the monstrous beast that history makes him out to be.”

Star Swirl closed his eyes and smiled sadly, “Sombra was a pony, much like you once. A great ruler, and a stallion who did indeed love his country and his people very much. But fear, desperation, or a broken heart, can lead even the strongest of us to do things that we would never normally consider even in our wildest imaginings.” He closed his eyes, “Bad things. Terrible, terrible things. Fairlight, I have done things in my life that I’m not proud of, as I’m certain you have too, but I would like to think that in every case it was my head, and not my heart, that had made the decision. Are there things I would do differently if I could turn back time?” He shrugged, “Yes. Yes, there are. Of course there are. There always will be.”

“And here we are about to deal with something from a time long passed.” I tapped my pipe on the hearth, “It’s the damnedest thing...” “So what happened to him?” I asked. “What did he do that forced the princesses to rip out an entire city like that?”

“A story for another day,” Star Swirl said quietly. “It’s not something to be told when young ones could overhear.” Slowly, the wizard rose from his chair and faced the doorway, “Be gentle on the girl, Fairlight. She has lived here in isolation ever since you were injured in the explosion. Out of all the rest, only she believed you were still alive. And it was here she bore your daughter.”

“Horizon’s Dawn,” I said quietly. “I still can’t believe it.”

“Bat ponies are a curious and secretive lot,” Star Swirl said taking out his book and leafing through the pages. “I’ve never seen one of foal age before, and it was fascinating to be here for the birth.”

“You were here when she was born?!” I gasped.

Star Swirl shrugged expansively,“Why, of course. With you away I couldn’t exactly pop you over here with a spell and make everything happen by magic now, could I? Besides, the fortress still has a myriad of spells surrounding it that prevent teleportation and the like.” He chuckled into his hoof, “And in case you’re wondering, there’s a grove here where we could be with her during that time.” I opened my mouth to speak but he was already ushering me back to the chair, “Now come along, you stay here and I’ll send her in. Both of them. I’ll be in the library while you get acquainted. Re-acquainted I suppose. Bah! You know what I mean!”

And with that little gem of wisdom the wizard left, leaving me once again in a world of confusion and generalised befuddlement. My pipe was empty, but at least my stomach was full. Star Swirl… Gods damn it all, that old swine, wandering around the fortress as if he owned the place! Well he certainly did not! In fact, if it wasn’t for the grove he… Wait, how the hell was he wandering around outside the grove?!

“Fairlight?” Shadow stood in the doorway watching me warily, “Can we come in?”

“Can you come in?” I shook my head in amazement, “How can you ask that? This is your home as much as it is mine, Love. Come… come and sit with this old fool as he begs your forgiveness for his childish behaviour.”

The thestral mare walked in, and following close behind her, the smaller one. My daughter. “I still can’t believe it,” I said quietly. “I have a daughter. Our daughter.”

A small muzzle poked out from behind the tall thestral, “You’re scary.”

“I try not to be,” I chuckled. “But you know what?”

“What?”

“You scared me when I saw you too, you know,” I said gently.

“Me?” Horizon blinked in surprise, “I’m not scary!”

“No,” I whispered. “You’re really cool. I mean, super cool!” I gave her a wink, “You’ve got wings, you’ve got awesome eyes, and your teeth look fan-tastic!”

“I like my wings!” Suddenly animated, Horizon trotted towards me, turned, and then fluttered her wings comically, “I can fly too!”

“You can fly?” I glanced at Shadow who pulled a face. Somehow I got the impression this wasn’t quite as exciting news as the little one obviously thought it was.

“Mummy said I can’t do it in the house.” The little face dropped slightly, “I bump into things.”

“She broke a vase,” Shadow said plainly. “A very nice vase.”

“I said I was sorry!” Horizon stomped her tiny hoof. It was so funny I nearly burst out laughing.

I climbed down off the chair and sat on the carpet by the fire. “Tell you what,” I told her secretly, “You and me can go outside later and you can show me what you can do, okay?”

The little one nodded so hard I thought her head was going to fly off, “Okay!”

“Fairlight!” Shadow snorted and shot me a look that gave me pause, “She can not go outside.”

“Why not?” I asked genuinely confused. “The forest belongs to the tribe, as do the mountains, the village and even-”

“She is a child of the moon goddess!” Shadow huffed as if explaining why water was wet. “She can not go outside during the daylight.”

“What a load of absolute bollocks!” I snarked. “I’ve seen bat ponies in the daylight at the palace.”

“I told her that,” a voice from the corridor called. “She won’t listen.”

Gods almighty, the bloody ears on that guy must be like a flaming elephant’s! “Look, Shadow,” I reasoned, “don’t be so overprotective with her, she’ll be fine.”

“There are wolves in the forest!” Shadow snapped. “It is not safe!”

“A thestral warrior for a mother who can breath lightning, a wendigo father who can blast enemies to matchwood, and you think my daughter can’t fly safely outside our own home!” My mane bristled, my back shivering as the magic began to react to my emotions. “I am the lord of this fortress, Shadow, and if I say my daughter can fly then she can damned well fly! Nothing will challenge me nor my family again as long as I live.” I stretched my wings and looked down at the wide eyes of my filly, “My beautiful daughter, will you fly with your father and your mother? Will you sing with us beneath the light of the moon and take your place as a daughter of the tribe?”

“She does not underst-” Shadow began, but her daughter had her own thoughts on the subject.

“Mummy said you’re my daddy.” Horizon looked up at me with her blue eyes full of curiosity, “Are you really my daddy?”

“I am love,” I smiled. “And you are a daughter of the tribe of the four winds.” I turned to Shadow, “There is no need to hide any more. No need for fear. It is time to make our home a home once more.”

“Can I fly?” Horizon asked. “Really?” She looked at her mother, “Can I Mummy?”

Shadow sank to her haunches, deflated, but with a curious smile across her face, “Yes.”

“Good!” I laughed, and clopped my hooves together. “Now then, can somepony tell me how in the goddess’s name we get to the forest from here? I haven’t got a bloody clue where we are.”

Chapter Twenty One - Old Friends

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

OLD FRIENDS

Shadow and I trotted along dusty passageway after dusty passageway, with Horizon sitting on my back and happily chewing my mane as her mother lead the way. The fortress was a veritable rabbit warren of innumerable corridors, stairs, rooms, and only the gods knew what else. Everything I’d seen of this extraordinary structure up until now had been a blasted, wrecked echo of the glorious home it had once been. And here I was, a wendigo walking through the empty silent halls of my forefathers, feeling like a stranger walking through a tomb. Shadow on the other hoof, walked with a self assured confidence which was as surprising as it was reassuring. I don’t how she’d felt the first time she’d come through here, but any sense of trepidation I felt was in no way echoed by this incredible mare. She strode with her head held high as though we were out for a stroll on a pleasant Sunday morning. Our daughter too seemed quite at home here. For them, especially Horizon who had known nothing else, I suppose it was.

The blue-white walls eventually began to fade away the deeper we went, replaced instead with the more traditional cut stone of the mountain that brought with it the darkness of the lower depths. Magical lanterns lit the way now, but for us it didn’t make that much difference anyway. It had become quickly apparent to me that Horizon’s unusual eyes were well suited for low light, as indeed were Shadow’s and my own. If not more so.

“How in Equestria did you find your way in here?” I said half to myself as I followed Shadow down another corridor. “This place is a maze!”

The black mare bobbed her head and gestured further up the long corridor, “The doors let me in.”

“The doors?”

I hadn’t got a clue what she was talking about. But then, Shadow had always had an unusual way of talking that I found oddly intriguing. What I also found intriguing, for the wrong reasons unfortunately, was trying to sleep in the same bed as her in what was obviously meant as a single bed. The room absolutely honked too. Musty carpets, equally musty wall hangings, and mould stained pictures abounded. Star Swirl had said that there was an enchantment on the fortress to prevent decay put there a millennia ago by Arathea to keep flowers fresh and musty rooms from becoming… well, ‘musty’ I suppose. Over the long years of neglect however, the spell had decayed along with the furnishings. The fortress was, for all intents and purposes, a right bloody mess. I’d spent the morning playing with Horizon and enjoying a surprisingly delicious breakfast of mushrooms and bark tea, all locally sourced from the forest. The Everfree Forest no less. It had a reputation that was well deserved too, and was a hotbed of monsters, bogs, fast running rivers, and sites of high magical energy that could, allegedly, turn you inside out faster than you could blink. The biggest problem I’d had with the Everfree had been the timber wolves. The magical creatures were a lethal menace, and one that I had dealt with when I was alive. Well, the last ‘time’ I was alive to be specific. Damn it, you know what mean. Anyway, the point is is that things change, and the timber wolf hierarchy may well have changed in the time I’d been away. The four years I’d been away. Dear sweet Celestia, why hadn’t anypony said anything? I know the passage of time was weird between the herd and here, but seriously? It didn’t feel like more than a few months at best. Gods, it was no wonder Tingles and Shadow hadn’t tried to communicate with me. But… If Shadow had been near a grove, then why hadn’t she tried to contact me? I had to know or else it would eat away at the back of my mind. “Shadow?” I asked. “Why didn’t you try to find me in the grove?”

Shadow shook her head, “Did not work.”

“So you tried?” I asked.

She nodded, “Lots.”

“And yet you waited here for me for four years?” I shook my head, “I don’t know what to say.”

“You love me?” Shadow suggested.

I stopped and turned to face her, “You know I do. I’ve never stopped loving you. I thought...” I took a breath and closed my eyes, fighting back the memories of all the times I’d tried using the globe in the lounge, waiting for hours in the grove in the dead of night, and the crushing disappointment when nothing I did worked. Month after month of nothing but worry and despair can grind even the most optimistic pony down. “I thought you’d given up on me,” I said honestly. “You and Tingles.”

Shadow shook her head. “Love,” she said simply. And that, I suppose, really was all we needed. It was the best answer to all the questions I had in my dull witted head.

Unfortunately my ‘favourite’ wizard had elected to stay behind. Apparently he had work to do in the library which would help us ‘deal with Vela and his plans’. What a shame! I left him to it. I had more than enough going on without having to deal with overbearing wizards. Whatever scheming he was up to this time could wait until I was good and ready. Personally I’d prefer it if he’d just piss off altogether and leave us alone, but I doubted anything to do with Star Swirl was going to be that simple. Right now my focus was on my family, or more specifically following my family out of the fortress. What was starting to bother me a touch though was not so much that there were corridors, rooms and staircases disappearing off here there and everywhere, but that there were lit magical lanterns and open doors following a very specific path. When Shadow had said the doors had let her in, she hadn’t been exaggerating. Magic or no, finding your way through this labyrinth would be no easy task. Damn it, you could hide an entire army down here! Which made me wonder: why hadn’t the wendigo done just that? Or had they? Who knew. And after so long, did it really matter? Unless there was something else down here that was even worse than the attacking Celestian army of course, but then… I felt a shiver run down my neck and huffed. I was being silly. If there had been something that dangerous in the bowels of the fortress then that meant they’d been sat there for over a thousand years, and spell matrices broke down over time, didn’t they? Then again the ones in the empire were even older, and some of them had proved to be just as lethal as the day they’d been set. The magical lanterns lighting our way still worked too. Maroc’s memories were keeping quiet on the subject as usual, except for one little piece of advice that even unspoken was coming through loud and clear: stay on the path. Well that settled it; no playing down here for Horizon without parental supervision!

The corridor gradually came to an end in what had quite clearly once been a storage area in the dim and distant past. Judging by the metal tracks, rail carts, overhead cranes and other equipment, it had also been the main one for the entire fortress. Room after room lead off the wide central corridor which, upon closer inspection, were absolutely cavernous. In fact the word ‘warehouse’ would have been far more appropriate a description for what I was looking at right then. Only the gods knew when they were last used in that capacity, and yet numerous crates, boxes, barrels, and other equipment still sat where they had been left a millennia ago. With a millennias worth of dust on them too. Somehow I doubted their contents would be salvageable, but it would be worth investing later when I didn’t have the little one to worry about. That said though she was being as good as gold, quietly sitting atop my back and watching everything with those huge blue eyes of hers. Speaking of which, something caught my eye too. It was a cart, or more specifically a chariot, dumped in the corner near where we were standing. I trotted over for a closer look. For its age it was in remarkably good condition and not unlike modern chariots in overall design. The wood was dry, but not mouldy in the slightest. Most of the paint had flaked off long ago but the iron work holding it all together was still sound and, as I discovered to my surprise, not a spot of rust. That was one of the things I’d noticed when we’d entered this area too – the lack of damp. Being down in the bowels of the mountain as we were I would have expected at least some damp or encroachment of water, but there was none. None at all. Just dust, dry air, and a feeling of time standing still as if this dark place was… waiting for something. I suppose it would have made many a pony baulk, but for me the further I’d walked the more it began to feel a home I hadn’t been back to in a while, such as when you’d been away on holiday for a long time and had just got back. Putting the heating on, opening the curtains and airing the place out would soon put things right again. I chuckled to myself. It needed a little more than that I suspected! Still, it was quite an intriguing prospect to be sure, and one full of exciting possibilities.

I continued to check the cart for any damage, and other than for a couple of broken spokes on one of the wheels, it seemed pretty intact by and large. So far so good… I gave the iron rim a tap on the damaged section, listening for any changes in the tone of the metal and clucked my tongue in disappointment at the resultant dull thud. The felloes were separating from the rest of the wheel. Sadly this wasn’t to be unexpected I suppose, especially as the chariot looked to have been involved in one hell of a hard landing at some time, and on one wheel in particular. In all likelihood that was the reason it had been left here in the first place, awaiting a repair that never came. Fortunately the interior was a different story. It was a single seater, and had been sturdily fashioned with a thick leather seat, straps, buckles, and was certainly not your normal civilian transport. Storage bins for throwing spears and ironmongery for shield and lance put paid to any suggestion of it being the kind of conveyance for popping to the shops after work one afternoon.

Bored, Horizon jumped down off my back and trotted over to her mum, leaving me to continue poking about. The chariot’s shafts were sound, and there was no sign of splitting or cracking. And even better, hanging up on a metal pole sticking out of the wall was all the leather work and harness too. The breeching straps, traces… Everything seemed to be accounted for. The collar was a bit manky though, and would need a damned good clean before I braved sticking my head through that thing. All in all though I think a day or two of work with a decent set of tools and this old girl would fly again. Hmm… definitely!

A crack of light made me flinch in surprise and I turned to see Shadow opening the wicket gate in the enormous double doors at the end of the corridor. I’d hardly noticed them in the darkness, but she’d found her way there with doubtless practised ease. Horizon was already disappearing through into the bright sunshine beyond too, and I decided to leave my new toy and follow them before I was left behind, chariot or no chariot. What was on the other side though, was like another world. The first thing that hit me was not the sunshine, nor even the freshness of the air, but the deliciously sweet smell of… apples? Good goddesses, it was! And not just from a few random apple trees either, but a whole orchard full! I couldn’t believe what I was looking at. The grass around us was as green as green could be, neatly mown and trimmed while the apple trees sat there amongst it all laden with deep red, luscious looking fruit. Several ladders leaned against some of the trunks with baskets waiting to be filled at the bottom, whilst next to the doors was another basket brim full of apples which Horizon was already tucking into. I hadn’t seen anything like this outside of Ponyville, and I sure as hell didn’t expect to see such a thing here!

“My goddesses,” I breathed. “Have you done all this yourself?”

“No,” Shadow replied shaking her head. “Wendigo.”

“Wendigo?” I looked at her in surprise. I didn’t like the sound of this at all! Perhaps I was simply misunderstanding her. “Do you mean the tribe, love?” I asked. “We’re not that far from the village, so-”

Shadow nickered and shook her head, “No. The wendigo help. They live in the forest.”

Oh gods, here we go. Every bloody time I thought I had a handle on things something came along to bugger it all up again, didn’t it. I knew there were wendigo living up north somewhere in the frozen wastes, but here in the Everfree? What in Equestria was going on here? Far from being pushed to the brink of extinction the buggers seemed to keep popping up all over the place like some bizarre game of whack-a-mole! No… No, something wasn’t right here. Not right at all.

“These wendigo,” I began. “They tend the orchard do they?”

Shadow nodded, “They bring us food: apples, pears, sometimes pigs.”

“Pigs?!” Now that was a surprise! “And they just leave these here for you, do they? They don’t ask for anything in return?”

“Books,” Shadow said simply.

“What, you give them books?!” I asked in surprise. “They actually go into the fortress library?” Now my blood really did run cold. Those ‘wendigo’ were probably ransacking the place and selling everything they could find from right under Shadow’s nose, and no doubt making a killing on the antiques market in the process. Hang on… Wasn’t that bloody wizard in there too? I could feel my hooves itching at the very thought of it. I was quite looking forward to meeting them now, and when I did I’d -

“No.”

“Huh?” My mental train of thought derailed as I tried to catch up with what Shadow was trying to tell me. “No what?” I asked. “They don’t go in the library?”

Shadow huffed, obviously become irritated with my questioning of her, “They do not come in the fortress,” she explained. “They leave notes outside the door asking for books. I leave the books, they leave the food.”

“Oh, I bloody knew it!” I barked, throwing my hooves up in irritation. “Nopony does anything without a price attached. Gods above, you can’t damned well trust anypony, can you?”

The black mare tossed her mane and walked over to pull Horizon away from the apples. The little beggar was muzzle deep in them and well into her third one already. “They give the books back,” Shadow said levelly.

I paused and looked back at her in amazement, “They bring them back? What, do you give them a membership card too?” I started to laugh at absurdity of it all. “I hope you make sure you issue fines for late returns!”

“This is… funny?” Shadow turned to face me with a confused frown on her face, “Why is this funny?”

“Oh, Love,” I said shaking my head and wiping the mirth from my eyes, “with everything else that’s happened in the last four years, the last thing I expected to find was you running a public library!”

Shadow watched me in baffled silence with those searching red eyes of hers as I sank to my haunches and stared up at the sky, a stupid grin across my face. The world just kept getting weirder and weirder by the minute, didn’t it? Mind you, the sexy librarian look would probably suit Shadow to a tee. Perhaps a pair glasses, her mane in a bun, and a nice blouse and skirt to finish the ensemble. I could set up a desk for her too, with library cards and a sign with the word ‘QUIET’ written on it in big friendly letters. Seriously though, on the face of it it all seemed fairly innocuous. These ‘wendigo’, if that was in fact what they were, looked after the orchard and fed my mate and daughter in exchange for simply borrowing the occasional book. Perhaps it was no more than my suspicious mind, but I still found it a bit odd.

“So you’re sure they don’t go into the fortress?” I asked again.

Shadow shook her head, “No. They go no further than the door.”

“Well I hope you can lock up after us, Love,” I said stretching out my legs. “I’m not sure I trust the neighbours quite as much as you do.” I looked up at her, “Come to think of it, how did you manage to get in there in the first place? Somehow I doubt the last owners of the fortress left the key under the mat.”

Shadow smiled knowingly, and from inside her cloak produced a rather large heavy iron key on a silver chain, “The wendigo gave it to me.”

I shouldn’t have been surprised, should I? In fact the way things tended to go I was more surprised that one of them hadn’t suddenly appeared behind me already with some ‘ancient sage advice’ as they always seemed compelled to do. I froze, slowly turning to- Oh, thank the gods! There was nopony there. Relief flooded over me like a cool rain, washing away my doubts and concerns. Well, there was nothing else for it then I suppose. It was a beautiful day with a fresh morning breeze and equally fresh grass...

“Daddy?” Horizon wandered over for a nose, “What are you doing?”

Shoving my back into the deep manicured grass, I huffed and grunted in sheer happiness as I rolled for all I was worth. Good grief, when was the last time I’d done this? It was bliss… sheer bliss! I snorted out a few bits of stray grass from my nostrils and gave Horizon a wink, “Rolling, Love,” I said with a grin. “And it feels great! Want to give it a try?”

She watched me for a moment, casting a wary eye towards her mother, but then like a chip off the old block she dropped onto her back and began to do what came as naturally to ponies as breathing and running. Watching her thrashing around like that, waving her tiny hooves in the air and the cute noises she made was utterly heart warming. Thankfully Shadow’s predictions about her bursting into flame, dissolving in the sunlight, or whatever silliness she’d been going on about earlier had proven to be well off the mark. He, he! I couldn’t believe it! My daughter… Another one! That meant I had three children now. Oh, goddesses, I was going to have to do something to tidy the fortress up wasn’t I? Still, I had a few ideas that could prove useful. It never hurt to have more than one iron in the fire as mum used to say. But as always all good things come to an end, and now, thoroughly covered in grass, I got to my hooves and had a damned good shake from nose to tail. Laughing and giggling beside me, Horizon was still going at it, and like the thoughtful parent I was I left her to it. Mum used to hate me rolling with a passion, and would give me a right good roasting if she even so much as saw a single grass stain on my coat. Apparently it ‘wasn’t the proper thing in polite society’ or some such bollocks. Bah! There was way too much stuffiness in Equestria for my liking, and if my daughter wanted a roll then she could bloody well have one any time she liked. Of course, Shadow might not necessarily approve, but then she… Hang on, what was Shadow doing over there? She’d been quiet for a while now. I could hear voices, faint but still distinct. Was she talking to somepony? I gave myself another shake and peered past her to… Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no!

Too late, the grey stallion had seen me, “Greetings my lord Fairlight,” he began with a bow. “My family and I have-”

“I’m sorry, the library is closed for the day,” I interrupted abruptly. “However should you care to call back tomorrow we shall of course be absolutely delighted to attend to your every bibliographical need.” I bobbed my head politely, “I bid you good day, sir.”

“But-”

“I said good day, sir!” I stomped a hoof on the ground making him back up suddenly, and wisely he kept his mouth shut. Quite a satisfying result really.

I gave myself a shake as the magic shivered through me and my wings broke through the hide on my back. Quickly, mist began to swirl around my hooves, turning the grass white with frost. Then, in one fluid motion, I reached down and scooped up Horizon in my forelegs, leaned back, and shot straight up into the air with a single heavy beat of my wings. And, oh my gods, was that ever impressive! I’d never done anything like that before, and yet I’d done it absolutely effortlessly! No more lumbering, running and jumping into the air for this stallion. Nope! A few more strokes and I was soaring up above the treetops with the fresh breeze in my mane and a song in my heart. Marvellous! Unfortunately, my dear mare friend didn’t quite share my sentiments...

“You sent him away?” Shadow’s red eyes glowered at me as she pulled alongside.

“I did,” I replied levelly.

“That was not right.”

“Nah, you’re right,” I mused. “We’re going to be shut for at least a few days.”

Shadow huffed angrily, “You were rude!”

“Was I?” I replied in mock surprise. “Well, sod them. Sod the bloody lot of ‘em. I’m sick to damned death of ponies popping up out of the flaming woodwork every five minutes expecting me to be their bitch for some randomly insane task or such like. Well not today! Nope, not going to happen.”

She shook her head at me, a look of genuine disappointment in her eyes, “They have been good to us.”

Ah, and here comes the guilt trip, eh? Well it wasn’t going to work on me this time. “I know, and I’m sorry, Love,” I said levelly, “but I’ve just come back from the dead to find my mate has been living here alone in the fortress for the last four years with the daughter I never knew I had. So as far as I’m concerned we’re way overdue some quality family together time.” I cast her a look that showed her I meant every word, “I have a lot of catching up to do. Wendigo, wizards, or whatever the hell else is out there queuing up to get me to do things I’ll probably hate, can go hang for all I care. What matters most to me is my family.”

I saw then the one thing I had wanted to see since floundering on that ice covered floor upon my arrival – her smile. It was only fleeting, she was still annoyed with me, but it was there. And it was enough.

“Daddy?”

I looked down at the cute little thing riding along beneath me, “Yes, Love?”

Blue eyes peered back, “Can I fly now?”

“Not yet, Love,” I smiled. “We’re a bit high up at the minute. Wait until we’re-”

“I can fly!”

“Yes, I know you can, and- Will you stop that wriggling!” Bloody hell it was like trying to catch highly animated soap. If I didn’t keep tight hold of her then she was likely to- “Horizon!”

With a shriek of delight, the squirming mass of legs and wings slipped from my grasp and whirred away into the blue. “Gods, damn it!” My heart leaped into my throat and I swept my wings around, altering course to grab the… the filly that was sitting on her mother’s back grinning at me with her sharp little teeth catching the sunlight. “Oh… Oh, thank Luna...”

“I said I could fly, Daddy,” Horizon beamed cheekily.

“Well thank you for telling me, Dear,” I replied snarkily. “Gods, Shadow, why didn’t you say she could fly that well? I nearly had a bloody heart attack!”

“She bumps into things,” Shadow shrugged by way of a reply. And what was with that look? Did I see a cheeky smirk on her face just then? I did! Gods almighty, save me from these bloody mares!

The three of us flew on, sailing over the deep greenery of the forest far below, following the winding river as it flowed away from the mountains. Ah, the Everfree… now here was a place. It stretched for mile after countless mile, encompassing mountain ranges, swamps, rivers, lakes, towns, and places that had been lost to the dark greenery of nature from long before ponies walked the land. To say it was one continuous forest was something of a misnomer however; it was bisected by innumerable rivers, roads, and many other natural features throughout its length. But to the ponies of Equestria it would forever be the magical and foreboding forest of myth and legend – The Everfree Forest. Few willingly lived within its foreboding depths, and those that did were the kind who wanted little to do with the outside world. The rest of the inhabitants were creatures who most would want to avoid. It would be true to say that the Everfree’s reputation was one of the reasons the small village of Smiling Borders had been left alone for most of its existence too. And most likely why Celestia had willingly returned the lands of the wendigo which encompassed the forest between the mountains and Smiling Borders. It was, what some would say, a poisoned chalice. But strangely enough it felt welcoming to me, as though I were a part of the strangeness of this land. Perhaps I was. Maybe the Everfree was the place for misfits, the strange, and the unwelcome in mainstream society. Either way it was our homeland, and I was determined it would stay that way.

Unfortunately I’d forgotten how far the village was from the fortress, even without flying over the mountains. Thank the goddesses we’d had the foresight to set off early, but with a couple of stops along the way for a rest and a bite to eat, we were beginning to lose the light. The last thing I wanted was to be caught out here in the forest with a young filly, wendigo powers or no. By my reckoning though we were no more than an hour or so off if that, and… I sniffed. Was that woodsmoke? Shadow looking back at me confirmed my thoughts – it was. There was a thin layer of it here, high above the forest. I could see it spreading out like a fine layer of fog. It was quite enchanting really, and smelled of home, log fires, brandy, and good food. Images of roasting boar on the spit, hot and dripping with juice, hovered in my mind like the smoke. Pheasant, goose, chicken… Heather’s pies were legendary, and I could almost smell them now. In fact, I was sure I could. I stared ahead of us, peering down past the forest, to the hills, to the steam rising from the hot springs, to the lights just starting to become noticeable in the encroaching darkness. My heart leaped into my throat as tears of joy stung my eyes. It was Smiling Borders. It was the home of my tribe, and of my mortal family. Shivering with anticipation I pushed magic into my wings, feeling the howl of the wind as it whooshed by in a plume of white fog. Down I went, faster and faster, a comet of blue and white, streaking down towards the one place in this world where I had known the most peace, and the warmest of hearths. Smiling Borders. Dear gods, I was back.

The Wyvern’s Tail, the largest building and focal point of the village, stood out like the summer sun in the darkness, each window radiating a warm yellow light from the lanterns and burning log fires inside. Laughter and song rolled out into the gathering night, muffled by the walls, yet to me it was like the purest song of all the angels in heaven combined. Nothing seemed to have changed, except the newness of the building. The last one on this site had been blasted into fragments, and me along with it. Tingles had told me the villagers had rebuilt it, and it was a near perfect replica of the old one, save for the new sign and freshness of the overall appearance of course. There were no hulking minotaur guards outside now, no armed warriors wandering around or the scars of battle. It felt quiet, peaceful, and most of all… welcoming. The air was perfectly still and fresh with a hint of the wild perfume of nature wafting in from the Everfree. Things had certainly changed though. Magic lanterns lined the road through the centre of the village, providing a fairly decent level of illumination not unlike many of the more everyday villages I’d visited around the country. There were fences too, and small gardens of vegetables, fragrant flowers, and even what appeared to be a bandstand of some description on the green opposite the tavern. Interesting. I wasn’t aware of there being many musicians here in the village, but a lot can happen in four years I suppose. Curious, I trotted over for a closer look. There was a plaque in front of the bandstand made of bronze and featuring a carving of a pony. It was hard to make out, but a trickle of magic brightened things up nicely.

“It is you,” Shadow said walking over to me with Horizon nodding off on her back. “It is how they remember.”

It was a wendigo alright. I’m not sure they had my legs just right, but it was a pretty good effort. I’d give them a ‘B’ plus. The words underneath were a nice touch too, and I read them aloud:

“Fortune favours the bold.”

Hah! I even had my own catchphrase. Strewth, did I really say it so much that ponies actually remembered me for it? Maybe I should have come up with something a bit more profound, or perhaps catchy. What was that one about seagulls following boats because they like pilchards? No, now that was bit silly really. Oh! How about, ‘By steel will thy flesh divide’? I’d seen that in a movie once, and I’d always thought it was seriously cool. I wonder if I spoke to the artist they could redo the plaque to put that on instead?

Chuckling, I let go of the magic before taking a surprised Shadow in my forelegs and kissing her. “We’re here, Love,” I smiled. “Should we go and say hi?”

And then, to my surprise, she hesitated, “They may not be pleased to see me again.”

“Eh?” I glanced at Shadow and waved it off, “Don’t be silly, we’re all part of the same team here. Good grief it’s only been four years, it’s not like it’s been a lifetime, right? So come girl, gird those loins right up tight and let’s go. Beer and frivolity await!”

Even the door was new, and swung open with barely a whisper. Which was more than can be said for the wall of sound that swamped us as we entered. Lively music was playing across a packed lounge area with all eyes fixed on the small stage. Now that was new! I don’t remember ever having a stage, but by the gods what a good idea! The mare singing there flounced her skirts as she worked the audience, and know her trade she did too. Every eye, every lolling tongue and lascivious stare followed her every movement, every bat of her long lashes, each swish of that bottle-green tail. One of her wings barely brushed past one of minotaurs and nearly floored the hulking beast. Now that, was a performance! I sat down on one of the chairs and adjusted my cloak, letting the magic of the wendigo settle back for the evening. Well, so much for my ‘dramatic entrance scene’ then, but I’d settle for a beer and a good song. Some good food too would hit the spot too. As I waited for the waitress I listened to the mare on stage. It was hard to make out the words with all the ruckus and stomping hooves, but it was a lively tune, and I quickly found myself tapping along on the table until an old familiar started up that really got the crowd going...

The night being dark and very cold, a mare took pity on a poor old soul,
she took pity on a poor old soul and asked him to come in.