Ponest Dungeon

Chapter 7: Abrupt Assault

Week 23, Day 3, Evening

Sequestered in the wine cellar, Ametrine watched in fascination as Flash Magnus begged for Shining to take his life. She listened closely as he whispered to Shining. But something about that whisper—perhaps the tone of pleading, perhaps the simple brush of lips on ear—unleashed a flood of thoughts, feelings, and half-remembered images, from the night when she’d first met Blue. An old, familiar ache returned as the Heart’s will to corrupt him via her body once again warred with what remained of Blueblood’s imprint of Amethyst on her—soul? She scoffed at the very notion.

But the wave of feelings continued, unrelenting, sweeping her toward the place she dared not go. She felt the hot coals of desire that must have burned in less-used corners of Amethyst’s heart, and relished her own pleasure at having stoked those into flame. Yet with that same thought came a stab of ice that pierced her from dock to barrel, as she was brought back to the moment when Blue had... had almost...

He’d wanted her. No; he’d wanted Amethyst. But she’d been there. Her will—her nascent soul—had been so pliable.

Corruptible.

She shivered once more at how he’d touched her that night. How he’d whispered his desire in her ear, then nibbled it. How his will had made a slave of her, until all that had remained of the Amethyst imprint within her lay broken, weeping, and petrified with horror.

But those tears had caused him to relent. And amid the overwhelming sadness and shame of that moment, she’d also felt relief.

Gazing now upon Magnus’ final moments, and having heard how his captors had been far less merciful than Blue, she couldn’t help but see a familiar echo in the expression upon his face.

Ametrine used Octavia’s voice to congratulate the team for accomplishing the mission, told them to set up camp for the night, and to bring Rarity and Rainbow back to Ponyville as quickly as possible.

With a series of cracks and squelches, Ametrine returned to her pony form. “Why do I feel anger and despair like I did when I asked Blueblood to kill me?” She slammed a hoof down on the observatory table. “Starlight! What is going on? You said I’d begin to understand!”

You are beginning to understand.

“Understand? But I’m in pain! Not body-pain, feeling-pain! You said I would be free after this!”

You are free. Free to feel or not feel as you see fit. Now that you have been exposed to both Generosity and Loyalty, you know what it is like to lose, and what it is like to be betrayed. You are now no longer bound solely by your biology. I regret that I will not live to see you achieve the rest.

“What!?” Ametrine shouted her question. “How is this better? How can these feelings possibly be better?”

Because, as horrible as you feel now, know that you can feel equally as good. I’m sorry, but I will have to speak with you when we meet again later. I must attend to tasks of my own, and will have to sever the window connections now.

The disconnect from both Starlight, and from Shining’s group, was as sudden as it was surreptitious. Whatever Starlight had done, Ametrine barely felt it when she lost contact with the group.

Ametrine shook with contrasting emotions. Shining’s group was in the clear, but she didn’t know about Tempest’s group. And now, with both teams cut off, she felt as if she’d abandoned both of them.

And for what?

Her own selfish desire for revenge?

It made her feel like she had stabbed herself in the gut. If she had a stomach, she was sure she would have vomited.

Swinging her head back and forth to try and shake loose the distressing thoughts, Ametrine galloped up the cellar stairs, down the hallway to the foyer, past Double’s team, and out the front door of the manor.

As the buildings flew past her in a blur, she realized that she had no destination in mind. Even after the town was behind her, she continued onward. All she wanted to do was to get away.

The group moved silently through the gloom. In the unlit warrens, darkness held dominion.

Tempest lit her own horn briefly, casting the passage in unsteady shades of teal and cyan. The others had finally picked up on her hoof gestures and followed her instructions, advancing slowly through the tenebrous tunnels.

A sudden sound immediately halted their advance.

It was a pony whistling.

The sound ceased as quickly as it had begun.

“Hello, Tempest.”

Tempest recognized the voice. Gritting her teeth, she slowly turned her head, swiveling her ears to zero in on the location of the voice. “Starlight Glimmer. What is the meaning of this?”

“I’m afraid that I can’t let you leave here, Tempest.”

Tempest squinted, trying to find any visual clues in the darkness. “You are foolish if you think yourself capable of restraining me.”

“Not as foolish as you for walking right into my trap.”

“Traitor,” Tempest growled. She saw a brief, light-blue glow ahead, and charged, violently smashing through several wooden pews that had apparently been positioned in a futile attempt to stop her implacable advance. An unexpected series of thunderous explosions sounded under her hooves as she galloped, shattering the floor and sending splinters of rock and wood to ricochet off of the sides of the tunnel. Cracks quickly snaked up the walls from the ruined floor.

“Heads up.”

The roof above Tempest buckled. She dove forward, rolling past the wall of falling debris. A quick flare of her horn and look behind verified that the wreckage reached all the way to the ceiling. She could barely hear the confused voices of the rest of her party on the other side of the collapse.

“Don’t worry,” Starlight said. “They made it out unscathed.” She frowned. “I’m... afraid I won’t be able to say the same for you.”

“Betrayal and attempted murder of your fellow company members. This has earned you a painful death at my hooves.” Tempest cracked her neck. “Well, Blind Prophet, if you have any last words, I suggest you say them before I cave your skull in.”

“I just wanted you to know that I take absolutely no joy in this.”

Starlight tilted her head. Her mouth twisted into a wince as the sound of splitting stone reached the ears of both mares.

“Oh, and: look out below?”

Tempest glanced up at the myriad cracks that had formed in the stone ceiling leading from the pile of rubble behind herself all the way to Starlight. Her eyes flicked down to meet Starlight’s. “Ah,” she said in a moment of stoic understanding. Then she tensed her muscles and leaped, her body rocketing towards Starlight like a batpony out of Tartarus, the death in her eyes screaming as if to make up for the complete lack of her own vocalizations.

The entire tunnel collapsed upon her.

When the dust cleared—not that Starlight needed eyes, or visibility—one of Tempest’s gauntlets could clearly be seen sticking out from under a fairly large stone block. It was less than a hair’s breadth from making contact with Starlight.

Sighing, Starlight turned around to leave. “I’m sorry it had to be this way, Tempest.”

“Prince Blueblood—” Octavia swallowed and ran her tongue across her own teeth, cutting it on her transforming razor-sharp dentition. The taste of blood in her mouth did nothing to help her resist the heady aroma emanating from Carrot’s open neck wound. She really shouldn’t have skipped lunch. For want of a Celestia-damned daisy sandwich.

“We need to get out of here,” Octavia said with a shake of her head. “And we need to get Carrot to the Sanitarium.”

“I—” Blueblood looked wide-eyed, confused, and, most distressingly, scared “—I don’t know what happened!”

“First,” Octavia pointed a hoof to Carrot, “let her go. We need to get a bandage on that wound, and get her some medical treatment.”

Blueblood released Carrot and leaned against the wall.

“Good.” Octavia breathed a sigh of relief. “We can take care of the rumor-mill and work on damage control after—”

Carrot stumbled over and wrapped her forelegs around Octavia. “Thank you, Octavia! Thank you!” Her rent neck was right in front of Octavia’s face.

“Nnnggg—” Octavia struggled to not breathe through her nose, but the odor was too pungent, too close. She could taste it on the air. She inhaled deeply. Her eyes turned black and her mouth began to enlarge.

“Octavia?” Carrot sounded reasonably confused.

Octavia didn’t reply; the shark had taken the reins.

Carrot’s forelegs were forced apart by Octavia’s expanding girth, and she was knocked backwards onto her haunches. Looking up at the merciless toothy snout which graced the front end of the deep-sea-garbage-disposal that was the mutant great white Sharktavia, Carrot lost all control of her bodily functions.

Sharktavia devoured her anyway.

Carrot’s back half landed in front of him, trailing intestines and a copious amount of blood.

Blueblood fell onto his rear and kicked his hind legs at the floor, moving himself backwards until he was pressed up against the door to the fresh air balcony.

Sharktavia opened her massive maw and closed it on Carrot’s rear half. The jaws lifted the carcass high into the air and opened again, allowing what remained of Carrot to fall into the shark’s gullet.

Faced with the lopsided decision between fight or flight, Blueblood promptly shouldered his way through the doorway and dove off of the side of the balcony. Plummeting to the ground seemed far safer than facing that wall of teeth.

The ground of the alley however, approached him at higher speed than he’d expected, and he was a little too slow in bringing his hooves up to prevent his head from cracking off of the cobbles…

The reedy stallion eyed-up Starlight. “Well? Are they dead?”

“They won’t be able to catch us before you strike Ponyville,” Starlight said. “And their communications have been cut off, so they won’t even know there’s a problem. Don’t worry, Sour Puss; you’ll have your chance to confront the murderer of your father and brothers.”

“I’ll have more than just a chance,” Sour declared, his chartreuse fur bristling. “Have your infernal prognostications foreseen that I would hire over a hundred mercenaries? Or that I would bring—”

“A war machine of terrible implication?” Starlight gave Sour a flat look. “You had better hope that the Flim Flam brothers didn’t skimp on the quality of the materials they used to refurbish that oversized cannon that you liberated from the castle stores. If it isn’t enough to secure your victory—” A grim smirk crossed her muzzle. “—the resultant failure would mean your excruciating death.”

“Of course,” Sour spat. “I am no fool. I paid those two handsomely for their engineering prowess. They’d have been fools to cheat me.”

Or just acting as their nature dictates, prioritizing their own survival over yours. How ironic…

“Now,” Sour said, “it’ll take us all night to reach where my forces are arrayed outside of Ponyville. Let’s go.”

As he galloped away, Starlight shook her head and let out a humorless chuckle.

Week 23, Day 4, Dawn

“Why won’t they wake up?” Shining shook Rainbow Dash, his face scrunched with worry. He ran a hoof through her greyed-out mane.

“I don’t know,” Twilight said, scratching absentmindedly at the crimson-stained bandage on her cheek. “The color loss is especially confusing.”

“Well,” Flash said, “Cadance and I can help you carry these two back to Ponyville.” He held up Magnus’ conch and inspected it. “Your company sounds interesting enough. I think the two of us would be up for joining.”

Shining raised his eyebrows. “Even after seeing that monstrosity last night?”

“Heh.” Flash grinned. “That was nothing compared to Cady here when it’s her time of the—OW!”

Cadance had smacked Flash upside the head with one of her wings. “Honey dumpling, I’d hate for you to say something that’d get you kicked out of bed for a while.”

“Sorry sweetums,” Flash replied, rubbing the back of his head.

Cadance smirked. “Forgiven, this time.” She turned to Shining. “You said that there should be a bridge now?”

“Yeah,” Shining replied. “Tempest’s team set it up yesterday. They should be scouting out the warrens by now. Tempest sure likes to get her team up early.”

“They probably can’t be doing worse than us,” Twilight said.

“Hey Octavia,” Shining said, “how is Tempest’s team doing? And where are they?”

He waited for a few moments.

“Octavia?”

Hours of frantic digging had given way to exhaustion, and finally tense slumber. Now, in the cold light of dawn, the remainder of Tempest’s team milled about the collapsed cave entrance listlessly, occasionally shaking in the morning chill.

“I haven’t been able to get in touch with Blueblood,” Bon Bon said in a grim tone. “Can anypony else hear him say anything?”

Snails put a hoof to his chin. “Not since yesterday, eh?”

“What about Tempest?” Lyra’s eyes glistened with barely contained tears.

“We did everything we could,” Bon Bon said with a shake of her head. “It would take a bigger group of ponies days to dig out the entire tunnel she and Starlight were in. There’s no way Tempest survived.”

“What do we do then?” Lyra threw out her forehooves for emphasis.

“We head back.” Bon Bon rubbed the sides of her head. “We could continue on in a different tunnel with just the three of us, but the loss of Tempest is... huge. Unless Blueblood contacts us with instructions before we can finish breaking camp, we need to return to Ponyville.”

Snails scratched his head. “I wonder why he’s not talking to us, eh?”

The first rays of the coming day formed large shadows in the streets of Ponyville. Flitting between these umbral columns was a rather disheveled Prince Blueblood. He carefully approached the edge of a building and risked a look around the corner. After a few moments of staring point-blank at a wooden beam that made up the corner of the building, he realized that he couldn’t get a decent view from that angle, so he painstakingly re-adjusted himself until he was able to see—

Nothing, really.

“No sign of the… ummm—” Blueblood said. His eyes dissected his surroundings, searching for any possible sign of the… what was he running from again? It was the big fishy thing, with the teeth, and the killing and the pony-eatings.

Shark, nephew. You’ve been running from a shark.

“Shark!” Blueblood’s exclamation startled him, so he lowered his voice to what he thought was a whisper. “Thanks, voice in my head.”

He’d been running and hiding in a panicked haze for a while now, but he wasn’t entirely sure for how long. Yet… he’d never felt more refreshed and awake in his entire life. What was odd, was that he wasn’t even out of breath after all the galloping. Though he did have a splitting headache, which was making thoughts and things and stuff a little fuzzy. His vision went out of focus and he shook his head in an attempt to fix it. As for the voice, it had been talking to him for as long as he could remember, usually right after one of the bouts of blinding pain.

I’m glad that you’re finally beginning to speak in coherent sentences, nephew. I was worried for a few hours there, between the shattered skull and loss of cerebrospinal fluids.

“Who are you, voice?” Blueblood looked up to the surrounding rooftops, as if they might be where the voice—that wasn’t a voice—was hiding.

That isn’t important right now, nephew. What is important is that you need to start working your way back to the manor—

“Why in Celestia’s cake-laden rump would I want to go to manure?”

I’m not sure where to start responding to that. Although the fact that the shape of my rear is an epithet is both disturbing and disappointing to me.

Blueblood dove across the space between alleys, and rushed to the nearest wall, pressing himself up against it. He looked around the corner, only to see that he had turned the wrong way, and was staring at the broadside of the building.

“This place is a damned maze. I’ll never be able to find my way back to—” Pain coursed through his head again, but when it passed, his thoughts seemed much clearer.

Okay, Nephew. Can you understand me now?

“Of course I can, Auntie. I wish you’d stop talking though, this headache is killing me.” He dove back across the alley, hid behind a barrel and scanned his surroundings. A shadow gave him the distinct impression of something standing at the exit to the street, causing him to take cover again.

I was about to recommend that you head to the manor.

“I would, Auntie, but I’m kinda running for my life here.”

No, nephew… you’re not. You’re really not. Look around: the sun is high. Try thinking clearly: why continue running, when running from a predator only emboldens them into chasing you harder?

“It’s instinctual,” Blueblood whispered. “Predators usually stalk until they’re within pouncing range, but they will bolt after prey that has detected them and makes a break for it.”

Fascinating. Then why did you—

“Why did I run?” Blueblood chuckled mirthlessly. “Just as predators are designed to chase, prey animals like ponies are hardwired to either freeze or run. I didn’t think; my fight or flight response chose for me. It chose wisely; Sharktavia would have devoured me. Also, she’s terrifying.”

Good. This is the most lucid you’ve been since your perilous plummet. But what now? You’ve been running for over twelve hours. Celestia’s voice wasn’t mocking for once.

“I don’t know—” Blueblood did a dive roll across an alleyway and pressed himself up against the wall. Threats seemed to lurk everywhere. “I just want to make sure that Sharktavia’s not still in devouring mode. Wait… did you just say twelve hours?!”

Constable Cuffs sipped her cocoa. Her eyes were at half-mast, but not because of a lack of sleep. In fact, she had slept well; she had slept very well. No; she was squinting at what was unfolding before her because what she saw told her that it was going to be one of those days.

She watched as the Prince dove across the same alleyway he’d been “sneaking” around for the last two hours—possibly longer; she had only responded to the prowler call around that time. His eyes were wide, fully dilated, and he had… strawberry jam, or something similar, smeared all over his face.

Daisy pointed a hoof at Blueblood. “Well?!”

“Well what?” Cuffs lowered her aviator shades to look at the flower-vendor.

“Well what?!” Daisy pointed her hoof again, repeatedly, violently even, as Blueblood started stage-whispering to himself about sharks, or somesuch. “Aren’t you going to arrest him?”

“Arrest the Prince? Are you mad?”

“No! But he obviously is!”

“Miss Daisy, I appreciate you, Roseluck, and Lilly reporting this to me. But this isn’t some terrible and horrible disaster, as your complaint alleges. He’s not even doing anything illegal.” She put her shades back on. “I can’t just arrest the heir to the throne because he’s acting weird. Do you have any idea how many of the nobles we’d have to detain for being weirdos?”

Blueblood dove into a dumpster. His head poked up from the refuse, a cardboard box impaled on his horn.

Lilly gave Cuffs a dirty look. It was akin to ones she’d seen before from ponies who were planning to file a complaint about her conduct. Complaints meant follow-ups; follow-ups meant paperwork. And if it came to that, she knew a couple hours spent writing up a summary of Lilly’s pointless issue with the Prince now could save all kinds of bureaucratic nonsense later.

Cuffs sighed and took another sip of her cocoa, mentally crossing-off much of her schedule for the rest of the day and replacing it with desk work. Maybe she’d get lucky and the town would get invaded or something instead…

Week 23, Day 4, Morning

“Ungh,” Octavia groaned as she lifted a hoof off the ground and grabbed for something nearby that might support her weight. Her hoof found purchase on something soft, and she opened her eyes to see her bed. Apparently she’d made it back to her and Vinyl’s room, though only as far as the floor next to her bed.

She felt bloated and queasy, as she usually did after consuming far more than her pony form possibly could. The metallic taste of stale blood lingered in her mouth, disgusting her almost as much as the persistent acridness of pony waste. She usually tried not to eat ponies in their entirety, since—like most animals—they tended to void themselves either in moments of extreme terror, or upon death. But losing control like that hadn’t happened in a long time. She normally kept herself fed well enough that it didn’t come up very often.

“I need to get this wretched taste out of my mouth,” she mumbled as she rose to her hooves.

“You eat somepony whole again?”

Ugh. Vinyl.

Looking over to the other bed, Octavia saw her friend laying there. Vinyl was listening to music on her headphones, as usual.

Octavia stood to her hooves. “I’m not talking about it, Vinyl.”

“Well,” Vinyl replied, bobbing her head to some unheard beat, “I have some flavored paste in my satchel if you need something to make your mouth all minty-fresh.”

Octavia smiled. “Thank you, Vinyl.” Sometimes she could be helpful. “Do you know if the Prince got back last night?”

Vinyl shook her head. “Not that I know of. You came in pretty late though. Or early. Went straight into a food coma. Kinda how I guessed you ate somepony; you don’t normally sleep.” She lowered her shades. “You didn't eat Blueblood, did you?”

“I… don’t think so,” Octavia said. “But I’m certain that Miss Berry… is going to need a new prostitute.”

“Where the Tartarus is Carrot?”

Berry is on the warpath this morning, Bulk thought as he watched the tirade.

“And what the Tartarus happened to her room?”

Bulk looked on with worry. Berry didn't get to this level of animated very often.

“It’s supposed to be a Celestia-damned sex room, not a latrine!”

Bulk hadn’t seen the full extent of the carnal carnage in the room, but the stench upon entering was eye-watering. He knew he’d be the one cleaning up that particular mess.

“And now you’re telling me Carrot didn’t give you the house cut before she skedaddled off to wherever?”

“Yes ma’am!” Just nod and agree, and maybe you’ll get away with just cleaning up the mess.

“How did you not see anything?”

“I don't know ma’am!” Your bar is closer to the room than my spot by the front door.

“Urgh!” Berry stomped a hoof. “I am going to kill that mare! This is what I get for my charity, is it?”

“Yes ma’am!” Charity…

“I take her in off the streets, give her a place to sleep, food to eat, and this is how she repays me?”

“Yes ma’am!” Bulk could crush a stallion’s head in his bare hooves, but there was no way he’d cross Berry. First, she was family… demented family, but family, nonetheless. Second, she was a sadistic monster, Celestia help you if she let that side show.

“I’ll skin her alive and throw her in the salt barrel!”

“Yes ma’am!” Great, she’s swinging a kitchen knife around and pantomiming now.

“If she were a stallion, I’d cut off her—”

The door to the tavern burst open and a stallion entered, gun in hoof. “Ok, everypony hooves in the air, and nopony gets hurt!”

Bulk stepped out of the way, allowing Berry a direct line of sight to the unfortunate trespasser. The stallion made the mistake of turning to follow Bulk with their gun.

Berry’s knife flew through the space Bulk had just occupied and the stallion fell to the floor with a pained shriek, both forehooves shooting between his hind legs.

A quick trip to the bar, and a few moments later, Berry walked over to point her blunderbuss in the stallion’s whimpering face. She stood one hoof on the stallion’s convulsing withers. “I’m in a generous mood, so I’ll give you a pretty simple choice. Either I shoot you in the head and you die a stallion, or I reach below, get my knife, and you bleed out a mare.”

Bulk shuddered. Better to work for a demon than to stand in her path.

Week 23, Day 4, Almost Noon

“What was that noise?” Octavia lifted her head from the brunch-bowl of minted oats that Vinyl had brought her.

“Sounds like somepony tried to steal from Berry again,” Vinyl laughed.

Octavia chuckled as well. She had long ago given up on understanding how Vinyl could hear anything over the cacophony that emanated from her earphones at all hours of the day. She wondered who the poor unfortunate was—her smile vanished. “Oh… I hope that wasn’t the Prince.”

“Wouldn’t that be funny?” Vinyl asked.

There was another gunshot.

“Huh,” Vinyl said. “That wasn’t Berry’s blunderbuss.”

Yet another shot rang through the morning air. And another, and another.

“Gather the others,” Octavia said, narrowing an eye.

“On it.” Vinyl hopped to her hooves and galloped out of their room.

Walking out into the hallway, Octavia looked out one of the manor’s front windows and watched as a small crowd of panicked villagers ran past in front of the estate’s main gate. She could see smoke rising from several places in town.

“Hear ye, hear ye!” The voice of Cheese Sandwich penetrated the paned glass. “Ponyville is under attack! I repeat, Ponyville is under attack!”

“Oh dear.”

Deep in the warrens, something stirred.

A shadow rose from the ruined floor.

Thought coalesced into a single word.

Blueblood.

The shadow tore through the darkness.

Anything, living or dead, that stood in its way, would be obliterated.

It had but one purpose, and nothing would stop it.

Blueblood looked out from behind a stack of crates in the new alleyway where he’d taken refuge. It had taken him a few blocks worth of cat-and-mouse to lose the Ponyville constable. He wasn’t sure how long she’d been watching him, but it was probably long enough that he was going to need some character witnesses to prevent him being committed to the sanitarium.

The sound of a discharging firearm echoed throughout the town.

“What the Tartarus?”

Sounds like gunfire.

“Sounded like Berry’s blunderbuss.”

It did have a distinct sound to it.

More gunshots rang out, though…

“Okay, those aren’t Berry’s.”

“Hear ye, hear ye!” Blueblood flinched at the sound of Cheese Sandwich’s ridiculously-volumed voice. “Ponyville is under attack! I repeat, Ponyville is under attack!”

Instead of this circuitous route, it might be more prudent to head directly to the estate.

A dozen or so hooded ponies galloped down the road towards the manor.

Never mind.

“Figures,” Blueblood said. “I just can’t seem to get a break.”

Only if it’s your head, nephew.

“Auntie, you’re not helping.”

Perhaps the abbey might make a better shelter?

“How’s that?”

Well, there is the fact that it’s made out of giant stone blocks.

“Yeah, it’ll make a great tomb, like the one you left for me in the cellar.”

Fine, Celestia said flippantly, choose whichever tomb you like better.

Blueblood furrowed his brows and then galloped as fast as he could.

Towards the abbey.

A raging inferno engulfed the thatched-roof cottage on one side of the alley, filling the whole area with a thick cloud of soot. Despite this, a chilly breeze caused the breaths of the four hooded invaders to mist in the inexplicably frigid air.

“Why is it so cold?” one of them asked.

Fully-armored from head-to-hoof in a suit of matte steel, Double Diamond stepped forth from the smoke and blasted the invaders with a flash of frost, immediately immobilizing the four fools in their tenuous tracks. He stepped to the side to allow Night Glider to swiftly swoop in and buck the mare who was carrying a blunderbuss, shattering her into hundreds of crimson ice shards.

A chain garrote, wielded by Party Favor, wrapped around the neck of one of the frozen stallions, and snapped his head clean off. Pushing past him, Sugar Belle raised both of her forehooves and tapped the two remaining ponies on their noses.

“Boop,” Sugar announced. She turned around. “Oh, and Touch of Death.”

Large cracks suddenly appeared in the two ponies. The fissures spread and spread, splintering throughout the frozen forms until they burst into twin clouds of red mist.

Night stretched her wings. “Was that the third or fourth group of goons we’ve killed?”

“Dunno,” Party replied. “I’m not too comfortable with counting down the number of enemy grunts to my death today.” His voice was glum as he looked down to examine something on the ground.

“You going to be ok?” Night extended a consoling wing.

Party lit his horn, then pointed the disembodied stallion’s muzzle to face Night. “I won’t lose my head over it,” Party said, trying to work the mouth with his magic. The jaw snapped off and he made a frowny-face at his broken puppet.

“Well,” Night sighed, “at least you’re fine.”

“Come on,” Double said, walking in the direction the invaders had come from. “I know we want to spend as much as possible of our remaining time talking to each other, but we have a date with destiny.” He looked back to the others, relishing their faces for as long as he dared.

Week 23, Day 4, Noon

The thin rays of sun which crept through the boughs of the Everfree illuminated the six ponies as they traveled. Four were on their hooves, but Rainbow Dash was being carried by Shining Armor, just as Rarity was being carried by Flash Sentry. They were trailing quite a distance behind Cadance and Twilight.

Briefly looking back to the stallions, Cadance turned and gave Twilight a curious glance. “How much further, do you think?”

“We’re not even halfway there,” Twilight replied. “We could make it in a few hours at a brisk trot, but as it is, we’ll be lucky to get there by nightfall. We’re moving too slow, being weighed down with two casualties and all.”

“That’s rather clinical.” Cadance looked ahead again.

“It is what it is.” Twilight shrugged. “My eldritch magic doesn’t seem to be able to do anything for them, so we need to get them to the sanitarium post-haste.”

“I wish I had a horn.” Cadance looked over to Twilight, who had cocked an eyebrow in her direction.

Cadance let out a giggle. “So I could use Harmony magic and try to help your friends. I’ve always been a bit jealous of your magic, ever since I used to foal-sit you.”

“Well, you can fly. And that was something I was always jealous of you for.”

“I remember we had a lot of fun pretending that you could.” Cadance looked up wistfully.

“Yay.” Twilight’s voice was brimming with sarcasm. “We can both do things that the other envies and will never be able to do.”

A frown creased Cadance’s muzzle. “What happened to you, Twilight?”

The question seemed to push Twilight to look at the ground as they continued to walk.

“You used to be so upbeat, and energetic, and ‘Sunshine, Sunshine—’”

“Stop,” Twilight interrupted, shaking her head. “I’m not a foal anymore. I’ve given up on… sunshine, and rainbows, and puppies… and Harmony.”

“Oh Twilight.” Cadance felt no small degree of sadness and disappointment at her words.

Twilight looked back at the ground, expressionless. “I think I lost my last claims to foalish innocence after I exploded a mare, drenching myself and my companions in her internal organs.”

Cadance raised a wing to her mouth in shock.

“I’ve seen things, Cadance.” Twilight looked up to the canopy of ancient trees, her eyes looking past the opaque ceiling of leaves. “At first, I just read about them in books. But I’ve actually seen them. Now… now they speak to me, and I call on their limitless power. Harmony—” Twilight gazed straight ahead, strange swirling lights dancing about within her eyes “—Harmony is much weaker, Cadance. It is a drop of water in the ocean of the infinite.”

Cadance felt her muzzle contorting into an expression of confusion and concern.

“Harmony is an aberration, not the status quo.”

Lyra sat in the middle of the path back to Ponyville, hanging her head. She lit her horn intermittently to move a stick in the campfire the group had set for lunch.

“Lyra,” Bon Bon said, “don’t blame yourself. Tempest was in command and she got herself killed. It wasn’t your fault.”

“Bonny—” Lyra looked over to her best friend “—what are we gonna do? We lost Tempest and we’re not even bringing back anything to show for it!”

“Lyra—”

“No, Bon Bon.” Lyra knocked over a log and sent embers flying into the sky. “I’m not downplaying when Amethyst died or anything. That was horrible. But at least when that happened, we had bits and gems, and we defeated that shambler thing.” She threw the stick violently into the fire. “Now, we have nothing! Tempest died for nothing!”

Snails turned his head to the road back to the ruins. “Hay, somepony’s coming, eh?”

Ears perking, Lyra and Bon Bon turned to face the direction they’d come.

“Twilight?” Bon Bon called out.

Sure enough, Twilight approached the impromptu camp with a pink pegasus by her side. In the distance, Shining and another pegasus could be seen carrying the unconscious forms of Rainbow and Rarity.

“Bon Bon,” Twilight said, “thank the Void you’re all ok.” She looked around expectantly. “Wait, where’s Tempest?”

“Dead,” Lyra said forcefully.

“What?!” Twilight couldn’t have looked more shocked if she’d been spontaneously struck by lightning.

“Yes.” Bon Bon turned her gaze to Lyra and then back to Twilight. “Your… friend Starlight collapsed a tunnel on top of her.”

Twilight’s face contorted, one eyebrow threatening to rise off of her head, while the other lowered into a squint. Her lips drew back, exposing her teeth and twitching under her squinted eye. “Wh—what?!”

The pink pegasus looked between the two. “I suppose,” she said, “that some catching up is in order, for both of our groups.”

“Move it, ponies!” Octavia shouted as the staccato of firearm reports and the distant sounds of stallion lamentations filtered through the manor’s front door.

Applejack and Big Mac came dashing out of the hallway which led to the dining room. “What’s going on?”

“An unknown force is attacking the town.” Octavia watched as Yona and Aloe descended from the top of the foyer stairs. The door to the east wing opened and Solmare appeared, for the first time in days.

Applejack frowned. “Of course a commotion starts the instant I leave Winona at the sanitarium for a deworming.”

Octavia took a position behind the front door and peeked outside through one of the flanking windows. The stone wall which surrounded the estate was tall enough that ponies weren’t going to easily scale it, but it also prevented her from seeing anything other than what was directly outside the front gates. Still, she was able to see groups of hooded, armed ponies moving about. She counted at least two dozen but, judging by how many were stopping in the street to drop off crates or materials and then leaving, the number was likely much higher than that. The ponies who were remaining just outside the property were beginning to construct crude barricades.

Turning, Octavia looked back and forth at the assembled ponies—and yak. “Okay everycreature, these invaders are organized and well-armed. There are a lot of them as well, at least twenty out front, and there’s enough commotion in the town that it’s safe to assume there are many more. Let’s assume at least a hundred. We’ll need to craft our plan of attack carefully if we’re to be successful here. We’ll break into two groups. Yona, Aloe, Solmare—” She directed them to her right, where they gathered and stood in front of the door to the east wing. “You three will head out of the east wing exit. These assailants seem to be grouping up at the front gate; you should be able to get to the rear gate undetected if the rest of us distract them. The first shot we heard was from Berry’s gun, so I need you to go to the tavern to check on everypony there and make sure they’re okay. Hole up in the bar if you can, but if the position can’t be held, bring as many ponies as you can to the abbey; it’s the most defensible structure in town. If you see Double’s team, send them here.”

Yona’s group nodded.

Octavia turned to the Apples and Vinyl. “Now for the four of us—”

The door to the east wing opened just as Octavia turned away.

“—we’ll start by charging their barricade setup in front of the manor. That should buy Yona’s team enough time to—”

Solmare bellowed in pain, prompting everyone to spin to face her. She hung several hooflengths off of the ground, in a reared up position. A hideously large spike protruded from between her forelegs. From a bloody hole in Solmare’s back snaked a long, meaty appendage, which terminated at the shoulder of a familiar, striped mare. She threw Solmare to the floor, then walked past as Solmare swiftly bled out onto the foyer floor.

“Bloody Tartarus,” Octavia breathed.

“Solmare’s who first caught my eye.” Zecora’s voice was filled with manic mirth. “But who will be the next to die?”

As the shadow tore towards Ponyville, a storm of darkness followed.