In a Chang(el)ing World

Chapters

Got On a Train in Friscolt
Walked Into a Different World
No Place Where I Could Run
I See the Tunnels, I Hear the Drones
Someponies Call Me a Killer
Still in the Hive

Got On a Train in Friscolt

A dull brass key slid into a simple lock and, with a twist, it clicked open. The plain oak door rattled on its squeaky hinges, swinging so far as to clatter against an unadorned stone wall.

“Ugh. I thought that shift would never end.” The heavy thud and clank of armored barding hitting the bare floor punctuated an earth pony stallion’s exhausted sigh as he lurched into the room and dropped his equipment in a corner. He stripped off his underclothing, peeling the damp pieces from his sweaty caramel hide and blond mane, and likewise deposited them in a damp pile next to his armor.

A second stallion followed close behind and quietly shut the door before moving to the opposite end of the room. He waved a hoof in front of his nostrils. “Keen Edge, you stink.”

The second stallion, an amber unicorn with a sweat-matted sienna mane, carefully removed his armor and padding. His movements were slower and more precise, setting the protective suit upon a skeletal pony mannequin and his uniform in a small basket instead of on the floor.

The shared barracks room was cozy and spartan, but well-lit from the sunlight filtering in through a large window. Identical beds sat at opposite ends next to identical nightstands. Mirror-image lockers lay at the end of each bed and twin desks with conjoined dressers squatted together side-by-side along the wall, bisected by the window. A small lamp sat on each nightstand. The only differentiating feature was the state of each bed: one was immaculately made while the other resembled a wadded up scroll.

Keen Edge tossed his head and nickered. “Well, not all of us get to be the lucky Stalwart Spirit who got to stand post in the shade for the last six hours.” Keen grabbed a towel from a rod attached to his dresser and dabbed sweat from his face. “What I’d like to know is why the Captain couldn’t have his wedding in the spring or fall.”

Stalwart Spirit shrugged. “If they ever learn who made those threats against the city, I’m sure somepony will add ‘a general lack of consideration’ to their list of crimes.”

“The real crime is having to pull extra duty during the reception tonight.” Keen snorted, leaning against a wall. “There won’t be a single piece of cake left by the time the next team comes to relieve us.” He pointed an accusing hoof at the windows and the world beyond the glass pane. “And that’s if they’re on time.”

Stalwart pulled a washcloth from off his towel rack and fired it off with a burst of telekinesis, aiming for Keen’s head. His aim was true, the target yelping upon impact. “Just go take a shower before you sit on anything.”

Keen chuckled and pulled the cloth off his face. He opened the small locker at the end of his bed and selected a half-melted bar of soap. Keen took two steps towards the door when he stopped.

“Hey, Stal.” His ears twitched and swiveled toward the window. “You hear that?”

“No,” Stal snorted. “But I can still smell you.”

“Shh.” Keen pawed at the air. “I’m serious.” He approached the window as Stalwart grew silent, the unicorn’s jovial demeanor hardening into concern. Keen scanned the castle grounds through the window.

The courtyard below was bright and cheerful, with wedding decorations tied to every pillar and lamp post. Beyond the courtyard was the low wall and portcullis that separated the barracks and drilling grounds from the remainder of the city. The streets and flagpoles wore similar decorations, and storefronts all over were displaying wedding-themed services and merchandise. All that stood as out of place was the slight color distortion caused by a shimmering shield that hovered overhead, enveloping Canterlot in a protective bubble.

Keen squinted at the shield’s peak, straining to make out a cluster of dark figures that flitted about the spell’s perimeter.

Suddenly, one of the figures dove and slammed into the bubble. It rebounded, but only paused long enough to reposition itself before diving again. Then another followed suit. And another. Within seconds, the sky over Canterlot was teeming with distant, vaguely equine shapes. All single-mindedly focused on a task that abruptly came to horrifying fruition.

A sound like shattering crystal rent the air and Keen backpedaled, almost tripping over his hooves. The shattering noise bled off as pure, undistorted sunlight rained down upon the courtyard, alongside black, buzzing creatures that trailed emerald fire as they plummeted into the city.

Keen Edge was frozen in place, not fully comprehending what was taking place in front of him when a black object trailing the same green fire blazed past the window. The pane shattered with its passage. Keen jerked his head away and lurched backward, falling to the floor and shielding his eyes with a foreleg. Just as quickly as the fiery creature appeared, it was gone.

Keen twisted around and started to rise. “Back to the cathedral!” he shouted to Stalwart, scrambling back to his hooves. “We’re under attack!”

Stalwart did not question his friend’s declaration. The unicorn moved to grab his neatly arranged armor, but Keen Edge pulled him away. “Our armor,” Stal protested.

“No time,” Keen huffed. “Grab your spear and let’s go.”

Stal hesitated for a second, glancing back at his polished steel plating, but Keen was already out the door and in the adjoining hallway. Stal grunted and followed his partner. Together, the pair hoisted their weapons and galloped down the hall of their barracks. Shouts of surprise and alarm echoed with their hoof steps as other guards took notice of the attack. The two stallions reached the end of the hallway and lowered their shoulders, charging forward. They hit the double-doors at full speed and burst into a world gone mad.

The sky was thick with the invaders. On translucent wings, they zipped, dove, and flitted around the spires and rooftops of Canterlot, and through the streets. A single one paused long enough for Keen Edge and Stalwart Spirit to get a good look. They recoiled at the sight, and then their jaws dropped when a vortex of emerald fire consumed the black thing. When the flames receded, in its place, stood a pony. A normal-looking pony, except for the predatory grin on its face, highlighted by a greedy glint in its eyes. Then, the changed pony dashed off down the slope past the portcullis that led into the city and disappeared into an alleyway.

“Wh-What was that?” Stal stammered, his breath coming in agitated gulps as he craned his neck to follow a flight of four of the creatures as they passed overhead.

“An invader,” Keen Edge stated in a growl. He urged his partner forward. “Come on.” Together, they leaped into the street and galloped after the changed pony that had disappeared into the alley. They waved around several other guards who were racing to their posts and barreled past the courtyard exit. When they turned the alley corner, there was nopony, altered or otherwise, to be found.

“Where did it go?” Stal wondered aloud as the pair searched the trash cans and sewer drains. Finding nothing, they moved through the alley to the next avenue, heading towards the cathedral in the distance where the royal wedding was taking place. There were many more of the things hovering around its spires than there were in the streets. Their progress remained unimpeded as they cantered onto the sidewalk near a flower boutique.

Keen Edge pointed his spear at a group of three of the invading creatures down the road. “Over there!” He and Stalwart accelerated into a full gallop. The trio of creatures spotted the stallions and leaped into the sky, joining a stream of a dozen more winging their way towards the castle.

“How many of them are there?” Keen asked, skidding to a halt and glancing alarmedly at Stal. “It’s like a swarm!” He looked up to where the bubble shield used to be, the sky now dominated by black, menacing creatures hovering high overhead. A pair of terrified cries rang out above the buzzing drone of the things in the sky. Keen and Stal took off in the direction of the noise and turned left at the next intersection.

“Look there,” Stalwart announced. A pair of mares clutched each other tightly as they backed away from a curbside fruit stand while two identical mares, their eyes glowing green, advanced upon them with hungry smiles. Stal readied his spear and immediately dashed forward.

Keen Edge gripped his spear tightly between his teeth and started toward his friend when a sudden tightness clenched around his neck and jerked his head backward. The stallion opened his mouth, dropping his weapon, as he tried to gulp down a gasp of air. Reflexively kicking out behind him, his hind legs connected with something dense that yielded a juicy crack, like a walnut filled with yolk. A hissing shriek stabbed his eardrums, and the vice grip around his neck tightened. Then, one of the creatures tackled him from the side. All three went down and rolled across the cobblestone street. Keen twisted and thrashed, but the grip around his neck was causing his movements to slow and his vision to go black. He rolled again and felt something small and hard wriggle beneath him as the thing that had tackled him crouched upon his chest.

It was like a pony, except it was black with a dense, shiny hide. Green wings with membranes like an insect buzzed, and the same emerald fire the things had trailed when they fell like rain flashed in its monochromatic eyes. Keen struggled as the thing atop him hissed, baring long fangs. Panic welled up in his eyes as the thing reared back to strike his throat. With a desperate heave, the stallion threw all his weight to the left as the fangs darted downward.

The black pony-thing chattered as it tumbled off of Keen’s chest, its fangs glancing off the street stones. It rubbed its jaw, dropping into a crouch as the stallion struggled to his hooves. The one on his back still held him in a death grip. The thing on the street tensed and lunged, only to be bucked squarely in the face by a large pair of hind legs. The creature soared onto a walking path between two shops and bounced into the shadows.

Stalwart immediately pivoted and pried the thing from Keen’s neck, cracking the creature’s head against the road twice, leaving it unconscious.

“Took you long enough,” Keen gasped, catching his breath. Stalwart grunted as Keen tenderly rubbed the reddened ring around his throat. Once Keen found his hooves, he glanced back to where the doppelgängers had menaced the two mares. He saw two black bodies lying on the cobblestone. The frightened mares had left in a hurry.

“They’re inside with the doors and windows locked,” Stal explained, noting the worry on Keen’s face. “You okay?”

Keen coughed and nodded. “I’ll hold. We need to get to the wedding and make sure the guests are secure.” As he turned, Stalwart placed a hoof on his shoulder, stopping him.

“No. We should look for more of those things on the streets. Make sure the civilians are indoors and safe.”

Keen Edge swept his hoof around, gesturing to the vacant city streets around them. “The walls are covered. Most everypony is already indoors.” Stalwart narrowed his eyes, unconvinced. “Look, the roads are empty. If anything, they’ll need backup at the wedding to help secure the royal guests. Let’s go.” Keen tore off down the street. After a moment’s hesitation, Stalwart snorted in frustration before racing to catch up.

They made it another block when something whistled in the sky behind them. Keen Edge stopped and turned in time to witness another enflamed creature barrelling straight for them. He reached for Stal, but his friend had already passed him by and was near to the next intersection. He did not see the looming threat.

“Watch out!” Keen yelled and ducked as the emerald comet passed over him. He looked up in time to see Stalwart stop and turn. The unicorn saw the incoming creature and planted the butt of his spear into a seam in the cobblestone street, leaning forward into the weapon to brace himself for the impact.

Stalwart yelled as the creature reached him. It swerved at the last moment and glanced off the tip of the spear, careening to the side. The thing inside the emerald blaze screeched and slammed into a storefront, smashing through the window and sending green flames licking up the sides of the doorframe. Simultaneously, Keen and Stal glanced up at the sign over the shop door: “Flash Point’s Fine Alchemical Imports.”

Their eyes met for a heartbeat, and then the storefront lit up in a bright flash of rainbow-tinted light. The street vanished in the glare, and Keen had a second to witness Stal’s body enveloped by the prismatic flames. He opened his mouth to shout his friend’s name, but the pressure wave from the blast bowled him over and ripped the air from his lungs. A great, cracking noise tore through the smoke-filled air, and Keen rolled over, tilting his head back. The edifice of the store’s second story titled precariously, its base having been torn out from underneath.

Keen crawled forward as quickly as his shaking legs would let him, but the wall of smoking stone and plaster leaned over more and more until it wrenched from and crashed into the street below. Right where he had last seen Stalwart standing. His eyes burned. Every breath was a drag of a razor against his esophagus. He couldn’t shake the ringing from his ears. Keen pulled himself up to a standing position and stumbled forward, blood seeping from his nostrils.

“Stal?” he called out. Then again, louder. “Stal! Hang on, I’m―” Something in the distance, off in the direction of the cathedral, boomed.

A wave of pink, etheric energy swept over rooftops and through the streets, washing over Keen’s body like a warm gust of wind. For a second, he felt his fears and pains drain from his body. His muscles relaxed, and the fearful grimace on his face faded. Then, the wave was gone, sending a horde of squealing black creatures tumbling out toward the horizon and beyond with its fading aura.

Keen Edge shook his head as the gravity of the situation came crashing back down. The dust, disturbed by the passing magical wave, cleared away enough for him to see most of the second story lying in a heap of rubble in the street. His friend had vanished.

Keen tossed aside his spear and dug into the mess, throwing aside everything that was not his friend. He scrambled through the rubble, frantically kicking away shattered wooden fragments, ragged clumps of masonry, and burnt merchandise. There was no sign of the creature that had caused the explosion.

As he shoved debris away, Keen kept muttering to himself, “It’s okay. You’re okay. It’s going to be okay. Just let me...” Shoving his snout under a still burning timber frame, he levered himself up and let the beam fall away to the side. He stopped when he found it, a dirty yellow patch of hide sticking out from under a large section of intact wall.

His pupils shrank to pinpricks. He dug faster, burrowing past the fractured remains of a curio cabinet, and Stalwart’s head emerged. “Nonononono...” Keen shoved aside everything he could, but only his friend’s head and chest were free.

“Help!” he yelled. Nothing. He turned back to his friend. “You’re okay, Stal. You’re okay. I’ll get you out, alright?” He dug with his hooves. He pushed with his head and lifted away bits and pieces with his teeth. When he reached the heavy, intact section of the store wall, Keen pushed and pulled. He grit his teeth, widened his stance, and strained against the mountain of bricks and mortar blanketing Stalwart. The muscles in his legs and back screamed in protest, but he ignored them and kept going. A hot pain roared from his throat and out his mouth, but he could not move the whole thing in his condition.

“Help!” he shouted to the streets, frustrated, scared, and panting from the exertion. “M-My friend, he’s hurt!” He shouted to the skies, driving his voice hoarse in the hopes that they would shine down some miracle and make everything right again. Nothing. He dropped down and dug pottery and wood from out around his friend’s head and sat down.

Leaning over, Keen pressed an ear to Stalwart’s open mouth. Nothing. After delicately brushing aside a sticky lock of mane from his friend’s eyes, Keen’s breath caught in his throat. Stalwart’s eyes were open, but unfocused, glossy. Unblinking.

Keen grit his teeth and shook his head, blinking away the dirt that had settled into his eyes as his vision grew blurry. Sniffling, he shook his friend, but there was no response. Keen brushed his hoof through Stalwart’s mane, pulling him close as he began to tremble uncontrollably.

“Did you see that wave of magic, Stal? It blasted those bugs away. That means everything will be okay. The Princesses―” he hiccuped, nuzzling into Stalwart’s neck, “T-The Princesses’ll patch you up, okay?”

His tears fell, mixing with the bloody sludge that crawled through cracks in the cobblestone and slowly seeped away into the ground. Nothing.

Walked Into a Different World

"Tell me about the day of the wedding."

"You mean the day they declared war on us."

"I wasn't aware of a formal declaration."

"A bucking invasion isn’t formal enough for you?"

"Tell me about that day. What do you recall about the time leading up to the event?"

“What, is what I had for breakfast gonna help with your analysis?”

“Indulge me, please. It’s important that I have the full picture.”

"…Fine. The day of the attack, it was… it was just a regular day. Bright, and warm, y’know. Too warm to be standing out in the sunlight for hours in full plate armor, but nothing out of the ordinary. Wedding fever was everywhere. The smell of warm bread and pastries. Banners and streamers. Cheap memorabilia with the faces of the Princess and Captain Armor on everything. Mostly the Princess. Bells in the cathedral tower. The whole nine yards."

"That all sounds like it must have been overwhelming."

"It was if you stopped to take it all in. But when you're on duty, you're focused on the specific things that might indicate a threat. Everything else is a distraction. When you're stuffed into a ceremonial post, you can afford to let your mind wander a little, or interact with the ponies around you. But you let your guard down, and ponies get hurt."

"Like Stalwart Spirit?"

“Go to hell.”

“I… That was poorly said. I apologize, Mr. Edge.”

“Just… ask your next question so we can be done with this.”

"...Very well. What else do you remember?"

"Rainbow fire. Smoke. That pink wave of magic. Blood on the cobblestone. It's all over him and the debris, and… and it's on me. Even now, it’s still on me. It's on my hooves with the dirt and the mud, and― This is pointless... What is this going to change, huh? What in Tartarus is this supposed to change!"

"Okay. We can move on. Keen Edge, I know this will be difficult, but I want you to talk about the funeral, if you can."

"It was... a nice ceremony."

"Not the ceremony, Keen. The funeral. Can you tell me about it?"

~~*~~

"Hoof... salute!" In one fluid motion, an assembly of Royal Guards snapped off a crisp salute before wordlessly lowering their hooves back to the grass. Dozens of ponies, mares, and stallions garbed in the armor and uniforms of the Solar and Lunar house guards stood rigidly at attention as nine caskets were lowered into freshly excavated graves. Their field unit counterparts, in sharply pressed uniforms, stood in silent formation behind them. In their hooves were the banners of Equestria and the Royal Guard.

Not even the wind dared to disturb the solemnity of the moment. Only the tiny squeaks from the pulley wheels feeding the rope through their blocks that surrendered the dead to their resting places broke the silence. Then, a lone trumpet cried out in mournful tones while groundskeepers shoveled heaps of dirt over the caskets. The lament continued to howl its call as the coffins disappeared into the ground, committing the dead back to the world that had given birth to and nourished them in life.

When the final note sounded, and the last scoop of earth settled, a turquoise unicorn mare dressed in the formal white uniform of a field unit officer stiffly strode to the head of the formation. She executed a precise facing movement towards the assembled ponies. A wisp of wind ruffled the collar of her tunic and flicked strands of her gray, pixie cut mane into her face. The sunlight glinted off silver bands around her fetlocks, and her dull blue eyes gazed through the hairs, sweeping over her fellow guards until they spotted one individual at the back—a caramel stallion with a dark mane.

"There will be a candlelight memorial held at sundown in the central courtyard for friends and family who wish to attend," she announced in an even tone. "Thank you all for attending." She clicked the silver bands together. "Dismissed."

A collective exhalation escaped from the formation as the assembled guards relaxed their poise and slowly drifted into smaller groups. Some walked over to the graves and whispered a few final words of their own. Many collected in circles, and muted conversations sprouted up about every possible topic.

The mare, two silver bars on her shoulders winking in the sunlight with the bands near her hooves, offered condolences to those who had approached specific headstones as she moved away from the graves. She found her target as he stood alone, weaved through the small groups, and approached him.

"Corporal Keen Edge," she said.

The caramel pony tensed, turned, and saluted. "Lieutenant Faithful Watch." The mare returned the salute. "I didn't expect to see you here, ma'am. Thought you'd be―"

"Doing paperwork? Coordinating shifts?" She shook her head and glanced back at the headstones. "Not today." Her gaze fell on one particular grave. "He was a fantastic Royal Guard."

"They all were," Keen Edge replied. “And Stal—"The stallion's breath faltered, his voice catching on the name. Keen cleared his throat. "He was a better friend. Best one I ever had," he added in a firmer voice.

"I know." The lieutenant offered a dry chuckle. "Try as I might, I never could keep you two apart. Even if one of you drew the worst work detail, the other was right there with him. That kind of loyalty, that friendship is, ahem, was inspiring."

Keen nodded. "When Princess Luna returned to the throne, he took it as a sign. He was never much for talking about it, but I knew it excited him. I followed because I thought that, if it came down to it, a civilian's life was worth more than my own." Keen pawed at the ground, digging a furrow in the perfectly manicured grass.

"H-He thought that way, too. With him, I felt whole. That guy shored up my weakness. He always joked that, between the two of us, we made one fully functioning Royal Guard." Keen's teeth ground together, the grating noise loud enough for Faith to hear them. "And now he's gone."

"Not entirely," Faithful Watch softly said. "I've lost good ponies before, Keen. If you stick around in the Royal Guard long enough, it’s something you come to expect. Sometimes it's a friend. Sometimes it's just somepony you knew from Basic Training. You mourn, and then you carry on." She pointed to the seal of the Royal Guard that was carved into every one of the new headstones, then swept her foreleg out over the grounds. The lines of white headstones, all bearing the same seal, continued in row after row that filled the grassy meadow. "That crest there? That's how they live on. They live on in what we do, and in that for which we stand."

Keen Edge took a single, heavy step forward, and the mare took an involuntary step back. A bitter scowl had twisted his face into a mask of anger. "With all due respect, ma'am," he hissed. "That's a load of dung. Stal, he died because a bunch of bugs brought a building down on him." He turned back away, the scowl squeezing into a harsh grimace. "And I couldn't save him."

Faithful Watch stepped back in toward Keen. She kept her voice low, and her tone gentle. "I read your full debriefing. The coroner's report, too. You didn't do anything wrong."

"Except it was me that told him to leave his armor behind," Keen replied bitterly. He glanced away from the officer for a moment. When he looked back, the fire in his eyes had banked itself into deep-seated embers. "Maybe if he'd had his armor, it might have kept him alive long enough for...."

"For what? For you to lift an entire building wall off of him?"

Keen opened and closed his mouth, searching for words that never came. Instead, he straightened his posture and blanked his expression. "Is there anything else I can help you with, ma'am? I'd like to pay my respects before getting back to the barracks."

"I hear you're spending a lot of time alone," she inquired. "Eating by yourself. Isolating yourself from your fellow Guards."

Keen's mask did not slip. His face and tone were stone. "I just want to be alone for a while. May I be dismissed?"

Faith pursed her lips, but sighed. "Carry on." They traded salutes, and the officer stepped aside to allow Keen Edge to march off in the direction of the graves, slowly making his way toward one in particular. Just as he passed Faithful Watch, she cleared her throat.

"Keen."

He stopped but did not look in her direction. "Yes, ma'am?"

Her voice dropped to barely above a whisper. "I'm putting together a special team. I want you on it."

Keen's ears perked up. "What kind of team?"

She leaned forward and said, "The kind that goes after changelings. It's time the predator became the prey. When you feel you're up to it, come talk to me." Then she trotted away, leaving Keen by himself.

Slowly, he continued his trek until he reached the line where grass gave way to overturned soil. At the head of the grave was a simple obelisk with the name Stalwart Spirit with a birth and a death date. Below those, the seal of the Royal Guard next to an Equestrian flag.

Keen Edge stood there in silence, staring at the obelisk. His legs began to tremble until they could no longer keep him standing upright. He sank to his belly and bent forward, letting his chin settle into the fresh dirt.

"Can you see me, Stal?" he whispered through gritted teeth, hot tears falling down his face. "Everything I do is for you, pal, but I need you to close your eyes for a little while. My job’s not done yet.”

~~*~~

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Faithful Watch hurried down the stairs from her bedroom and stumbled onto the tiles of a short hallway that led to her front door—a door which was currently weathering a continuous assault of insisted pounding. Rain lashed against the windows of the house. The only illumination came from the glow of the streetlamps filtering in between gaps in the curtains. Tightening the sash that held her robe closed, the mare crossed the hallway to a closet, reached inside, and levitated out a Ponyville Slugger bat.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

She inched toward the door, the constant beating continuing unabated. The bat creaked as Faith's magic tightened its grip, and with one swift motion, she slid the locking bolt free and threw open the door. Keen Edge stood on her porch, a hoof held in the air in mid-swing, his coat and mane soaked through with rain.

"Keen?" She blanched. "Are you okay?" She glanced up at the heavy skies. "What in Equestria are you doing running around in this storm?" She opened up her door slightly more, beckoning him inside.

"This team you're building," he growled, ignoring her offer. "It's going out there to hunt them down, to stop them." Keen's face appeared to be carved from stone. Impassive, solid, and unwavering. In the dim light of the street lamps, Faith could see his red-rimmed eyes. They simmered with a deep ember of something cold and vengeful.

"Not to talk," Keen continued. "Not to capture or reform, but to find them and stomp them out."

Faith set the bat aside and nodded, watching Keen's eyes. He had not yet blinked. "Yes," she said carefully. "That's the idea."

Keen Edge shut his eyes and lifted his face to the sky. Raindrops cascaded down his snout and throat, weaving tiny rivers of water down to his drenched hooves. He took a deep breath and then opened his eyes, bringing his gaze back down. "I'm in."

Faith opened her mouth to reply, but Keen had already turned around and walked away. She withdrew from the threshold of the door and watched him silently disappear down the street into the night.

No Place Where I Could Run

"So you volunteered for this special task group with the mission of rooting out changelings."

"‘Rooting out.’ That’s a word for it."

"Did you wonder, at the time, what that might mean? What sort of places you might have to travel to, what missions you could be sent on?"

"Nopony knew exactly what we were getting into, not in the early days. The bugs weren't like anything the Guard had had to fight in the past. All I knew was that we were out there to hunt them down, and that was good enough for me."

"Had you experienced any dangerous situations before your time in the Task Force?"

“Invasion.”

“Aside from that, Mr. Edge.”

"No. Yes. I wouldn't call them overly dangerous. Civil disturbances. A few confrontations with the odd monster. Nothing of any real consequence, but that's not important."

"I would imagine that hoof-to-hoof combat with an enemy that's trying to drain you of love is something that requires preparations. Preparations that you didn't have."

"You can't prepare for the tunnels of the hives. All you can do is survive and become a better hunter for the next mission."

"A better hunter, you say?"

"Yes. And talking about my feelings like a pouty mare isn’t going to help me when the next attack comes."

"The closest to ‘hunting’ that I get is hunting down my favorite teas in the shops. When I think of a hunter, Mr. Edge, and beg pardon if I’m being too forward, the image of a pony is just about the last thing that comes to mind."

"We learned, Miss Heart. I learned. ‘The predator became the prey,’ as Lieutenant Watch told me. She’s full of it, but those words are true regardless. The bugs learned that a cornered pony will fight back. We taught them that lesson well."

"There's a difference, though, between defending the herd and hunting down another living being. I could see how it may be difficult for a herd-focused, prey-minded pony to transition into the mentality required to be a predator. How did you maintain mental and emotional balance in that state of mind?"

"Some couldn't handle the stress. The sounds and sights. The sensations. The rest of us got the job done."

"And how did you do that?"

"Don't think about it. Put everything in a box, and don't let anything like doubt or empathy keep you from delivering that killing blow. You ignore that cracking sound, wipe off your hooves, and move along."

"‘The predator became the prey,’ you said. It’s clear you took to that mindset like a dragon to gold. Tell me more."

~~*~~

Faith carefully stepped over a lumpy, moss green mass that vaguely resembled a changeling cocoon's remains as she shied away from the walls of the hive cavern. Much of the cavern's vertical surfaces were coated in a sickly, sagging substance that gave off an acerbic odor. Faith wrinkled her nose and rounded a bend in the cave, striding into a wide chamber with a low ceiling. To the rear of the chamber, a series of smaller tunnels branched off into the darkness. Faith's attention, however, was solely on the current occupants in the center of the chamber.

A changeling, dirty and emaciated, lay sprawled across the cavern floor. Faith noted softer features that identified the changeling as a female as she took in the prisoner's state: the legs of the changeling were far more pockmarked than most others of its kind, and the usually vibrant glow of its eyes and glossy carapace were dull and muted; one wing stuck out from beneath an elytron and was bent at an unnatural angle. This was a starved and defeated creature. And standing over the frail changeling, flanked by two other operatives, was Keen Edge.

Faith could see the cold fire burning in Keen's eyes as the stallion silently brooded over his captive. The changeling seemed to notice as well, and she tried dragging itself further into the hive. Keen stared down at the changeling and, with careful deliberateness, placed a hoof on her back, pinning her to the floor. Glaring defiantly through swollen eyelids at the ponies that stood over her, the changeling struggled weakly to pull herself free, but she was in no condition to resist.

"Good work, everypony," Faith said as an adjunct stepped up beside her. "What's the final tally?" she asked.

"Eleven changelings neutralized," Keen answered softly, never taking his eyes off the changeling under his hoof. "This one's the last of them."

"Ahem," the adjunct interjected. "Three captives were rescued from cocoons. All ponies. There was a fourth, but it appears that one recently succumbed to malnutrition."

Faith grimly nodded. "At least we got three of them." She cast her gaze around to the sagging cave walls. "What of the hive itself?"

"Small. Based on previous hives we've broken up, this was likely once an alcove that was minimally excavated to provide basic shelter. Certainly not the beginnings of a major hive."

"Any casualties? I didn't see anypony hurt when I arrived."

"Minor injuries only," the adjunct replied. "One shallow bite, a fractured metatarsal, and a few bruises."

"They weren't in a condition to put up much of a fight," one of the operatives near Keen added.

"Are you going to kill me too?" the changeling hissed, staring defiantly into Faith’s eyes.

Faith shook her head. "As much as you might deserve it, we're sending you to the castle dungeon. You'll be questioned, but you'll live." She nodded to the two operatives flanking Keen. "You two come with me to fill in the details for my report. Keen, secure the prisoner for transport." The two operatives saluted and departed. Faith gave Keen an appraising look before she fell in behind the two operatives.

A sound made her pull up short after having turned the corner. A soft crack followed by a squeaking yelp. Quietly, she peered around the bend in the cave. Faith found Keen leaning over the changeling, her face twisted in a grimace of pain. The stallion leaned in further and the same sound, a soft crack, punctuated the appearance of a small fissure across the changeling's carapace. The changeling’s mouth was agape in a silent, agonized scream as she pitifully squirmed under his hoof. His ears twitched at the sound, and his right eye fluttered as he sucked in air through gritted teeth.

Faith held back as Keen removed his hoof from the changeling's back, and she scooted away from him. "What's wrong, bug? The Lieutenant said you're going to live."

"Lies," the changeling spat. "I can taste the hatred inside you, and yet you call us monsters. How many of my kind have you already murdered? You ponies have always been such hypocrites. Especially once your precious harmony is broken."

The stallion's eyes narrowed, and a thin frown stretched across his face as he stepped over to the changeling. Keen leaned over, bringing his face close to hers. "I'm authorized to use deadly force if you resist." His snout was almost touching hers as a hoof moved to her neck and pressed down. "Give me a reason. Beg. Plead." The changeling coughed and struggled, kicking him weakly in the haunches, but she couldn’t fight him off. He snorted, a cruel smile twisting his face. Faith lifted a hoof but still held back. Instead, she continued to watch.

"You're nothing but a plague," Keen growled as he silently pressed another hoof down on the changeling's neck. He pushed down hard with both hooves. The changeling sputtered, and her chest heaved. She struggled desperately, her forelimbs flailing as her mouth wordlessly opened and closed, fighting for air. "I decide whether you get to Canterlot in a chariot or a box!"

Faith quickly moved from her vantage point and crossed the space. "Operative," she called out. He did not respond or look away from the suffocating changeling. "Operative! Keen!" she shouted, bodily shoving the stallion aside. The changeling sucked in a ragged breath, coughed, and gasped as she greedily drank in air.

Keen Edge clambered to his hooves as Faith interposed herself between him and the changeling. "That's enough," Faith ordered. "We need whatever information she might have on the other hives."

Keen looked at her in surprise, glowering as a hint of betrayal flashed across his face. "Move aside, Faith," Keen hissed. "We’re here to squash these bugs! Not to talk, capture, or reform them. Or, what, did you suddenly start to sympathize with these things?"

"We'll never find them all if you can't control yourself," Faith countered. She jerked her head in the direction of the cavern exit. "Regroup with the rest of the team. I'll have somepony else secure the prisoner for transport." Faith watched Keen as the operative stepped over to bind the changeling, ready to intervene should he do something rash.

Keen snorted, and the muscles in his legs rippled and quivered with strained energy. Faith lowered her stance and slowly shook her head, keeping her eyes on him. The changeling, still catching her breath, glanced wide-eyed between the two ponies.

Slowly, Keen Edge relaxed and assumed a rigid posture. "Very well, ma'am." Then, he stomped away.

Faith watched as the stallion disappeared around the corner, and one corner of her mouth turned up in the barest hint of satisfaction. "You'll get plenty more chances, Operative Edge. There's always more work to be done."

~~*~~

Rain clouds, having recently shed their watery payload, hung in lazy clumps near the dark horizon. A bestial snarl shredded the night air as a full moon cast its glow down upon a small gathering of ponies and one alicorn. The group stood on slick, mossy cobblestone pavement in a courtyard, surrounded by the dilapidated walls and slumped towers of the Castle of the Two Sisters.

Princess Luna stood tall, looking over the horn of Captain Shining Armor. He stood protectively between the Princess and another stallion who was engaged in a brawl with two of her house guards.

Keen Edge cursed and thrashed as the two armor-clad guards struggled to pin him to the ground. The enraged pony twisted in their grasp and managed to crawl another meter toward Luna before he was successfully pinned.

"Get some restraints on that pony," Shining Armor commanded. A mare, this one dressed simply in the tunic of a member of Luna's retinue, moved forward with a pair of metal cuffs and clasped them around the caramel pony's fetlocks.

"It's going to take more than that," Keen Edge spat, straining against the restraints. "Traitors. Fools! What the buck are you thinking!?" He glanced around the courtyard at the assemblage, his eyes enraged yet pleading. "After everything they’ve done!"

"Captain," Luna began calmly, "who is this stallion?"

Faithful Watch, standing off to one side, stepped forward and cleared her throat. "If I may?" she asked of Shining Armor, who nodded. "His name is Keen Edge, Your Highness. He is..." Her ears and tail drooped. "He was one of our best operatives."

Shining Armor, still standing between Luna and Keen Edge, regarded the frothing stallion cautiously. "Pity. If he were truly so keen, he wouldn’t have pulled this stunt."

"They don’t deserve help!" Keen shouted, still struggling. “They don’t deserve anything but the gallows!” An additional guard had to be called over to keep him immobile. He looked at Faith, his face twisted in rage. "I thought you cared... but you were just another bleeding heart politician!" Then Keen, swallowing hard, turned his fiery glare to the Princess. "You and your sister are inviting monsters into our homes. Are you blind? Are you stupid!?"

Faith closed the distance between her and Keen in a blink. She leaned down and shoved her face into Keen's, their snouts only an inch apart. Her flashing eyes speared him as she gritted her teeth.

"That is more than enough from you, Operative. Stand down." Keen spat in her face. Faith glowered at him, wiping her muzzle with her fetlock before saying, “Muzzle him.” As one of the guards approached Keen Edge, Faith turned and bowed to the Princess. "Forgive him, Highness. Keen Edge has more cause to hate the changelings than most." The mare's hard gaze softened. "It's what made him one of our best. But, it appears that his single-mindedness may have also blinded him to many things."

Princess Luna's lips were a tight line as she silently studied Keen Edge. The stallion, to his credit, weathered the scrutiny without flinching. Luna nodded to Faith. " Your Guard needs discipline. He needs guidance.” She gave the stallion a sympathetic glance. “But I understand the cause of such terrible passion as has consumed him." She lowered her voice and stepped past Shining Armor, leaning in so her words could only be heard by Faith.

"And I suspect he needs help that we can not give him. Accepting changelings, even reformed changelings, into Equestria is going to be more difficult for some than others. I know some of the best in the business. One of my aides will send you the information."

Faith's tense muscles relaxed, and she bowed again. "I understand. Thank you, Your Highness. I'll see to it." Luna withdrew and turned to her entourage. She signaled to them and, without another word, leaped into the night sky.

"Equestria is doomed," Keen called after her, his voice muffled behind the muzzle, but still dripping with venom. He turned his glare on Shining Armor. "Of all ponies, I expected better from you..."

Shining Armor shook his head and sighed. He motioned to Faith and bid her to follow him a short distance away. "Take Keen Edge to the brig and post a watch outside of his room. Let him cool his hooves in there for a week or so, then place him under house arrest pending evaluation. Until further notice, he is to remain under constant surveillance and won’t be permitted to move about without prior authorization and an escort. Is that clear, Lieutenant?" Faith nodded once. Shining Armor signaled the guards restraining Keen, and they hauled him away.

"I trusted you!" Keen shouted at Faith. "I bled for you, but you were just like the rest of them..."

One of the guards, evidently having had enough, tightened the straps on his muzzle, silencing any further words from the stallion’s mouth. Faith did not respond to his outburst. Instead, she whispered, "I'm doing this because I care."

If Keen Edge noticed Faith's lips moving, he did not acknowledge the words. He grunted and strained, but the other ponies dragged him along until he vanished around a corner.

Shining Armor and Faith were left alone, and silence quietly reigned until Shining sighed loud enough to make Faith jump. "If I could get over what the changelings did to Cadance and I, why is he having such a hard time?"

"With all due respect, Captain Armor," Faith began, "you came out of the attack with a headache. Keen Edge lost someone who was family to him. Everypony on my team has been to places, seen things, and has had to do things that most guards never will." Her voice chilled. "Things nopony should have to lower themselves to doing." She stepped up to Shining Armor, and her gaze bore into his eyes. "But they did it, without complaint or hesitation, because that's what their country asked of them. It's what their commander demanded of them."

Shining Armor's expression softened for a moment, but then he renewed his commander's mask. "Lest you forget, Lieutenant, they made a mockery of a royal wedding, drained me to the point of near zombification, and left my wife beaten and starved in the caverns to die.” Faith straightened as he looked her in the eyes. He took a breath to steady himself. “If what you say is true, then your operative shouldn’t have been given the green light to join the team in the first place. So tell me, Lieutenant Watch, why was he?"

Faith set her jaw, but said nothing. Shining nodded, narrowing his eyes at her. “What you all did was necessary, and you all have the eternal gratitude of the Throne for your sacrifices, but something here doesn’t add up. You have my honorbound promise that I’ll get to the bottom of it. Pending the results of an inquiry, you are hereby placed on restriction. You will limit your movements to your home and your office.”

Faith opened her mouth, but Shining Armor curtly interrupted. “Dismissed.” With that, he walked past her, his guards following. Faith sat alone in the dilapidated ruins of the old throne room for a time, shoulders hunched and head bowed, before finally taking her leave as well.

~~*~~

With a rattling squeak, the heavy door of a small prison cell was yanked open, and a young mare, her cornsilk coat and cobalt mane peeking through the full suit of armor she wore, stepped into the room. Lieutenant Faithful Watch closely followed her.

"Attention," the sentry ordered, with far less gusto than expected. "Officer on deck." When the room's occupant failed to respond, she kicked at the bars separating them from the small cot where the lone prisoner lay. "I said on your hooves, Guard."

"At ease, Corporal Stanza," Faith commanded. "Wait outside. I need to have a chat with the Sergeant here."

Corporal Stanza cast a wary glance at the stationary form of Keen Edge. “Is that allowed, ma’am?” she asked with a scowl. “Word is that you’re on restriction because this pony snapped and attacked Princess Luna.” The sentry’s voice remained neutral, but her eyes danced with the glint of restrained disgust. “Scuttlebutt says you’re the reason he’s like this.”

Faith kept her expression blank. “I’m here as a follow-up to check on my Guard. You can note in your log that I’ll be going straight home after this, Corporal.” The sentry paused, and then snapped off an exceedingly rigid salute before exiting the room, shutting and locking the cell door behind her.

There was a moment of quiet before Keen growled, "You sure that's wise?" His eyes stared up at the ceiling, unfocused and unblinking. "I could be dangerous."

"You are dangerous," Faith agreed. "That's why I wanted you on the team." She sauntered over to a bare wall across from the cot and leaned against the cold stone, taking in the décor of the cell. It was spartan: gray, with a single narrow cot and a combination toilet and sink fixture.

Keen snorted and blinked. "Yeah. The team you let them disband, just when it's needed the most." He rolled his head to the side and looked up at Faith with heavy eyes. His expression was a mirror of the stone walls surrounding him.

"When Princess Luna says that enough is enough, there is no further discussion," Faith countered. "The changelings, for the most part, are not what they once were." Keen snorted. Faith offered a hoof, shoe up, in supplication. "Most of them are not a threat anymore. Only the Queen, and a minimal number that weren't in the Hive at the time, managed to escape. They've not been spotted since the Reformation by our scouts, nor by Thorax and his new changelings."

“We’re meant to trust him? A changeling can't change," Keen hissed.

"Neither can some ponies, apparently," Faith mumbled. She pinched the bridge of her snout. "Those days are gone, Keen. We're living in a new world, and we all have to adapt. I'd hate to think that you'd let the world pass you by and choose instead to rot away in the brig," she added in a softer voice.

“You lied to me, Faith.”

Faith set her jaw, narrowing her eyes. “I never forced you to join, Keen. You came to me. Remember that.”

Keen sat up on his cot, glaring at her. “Was I just some tool to you? Something to be used up and thrown away? You were there, you saw the caskets being lowered into the ground. You headed the sending-off! You knew what the buck you were doing when you gave me that offer, and I’m the bad guy here?” Keen laughed, running a hoof through his mane. “And here I thought you were different. That you understood.”

Approaching the bars, Faith said, “You knew what you were getting into when you accepted, Keen. What we’re doing now, this is what the princesses have deemed to be for the betterment of Equestria. It’s out of my hooves.”

Keen went silent for a moment. He then rolled out of his cot, stalking towards the bars until he stood before Faith, staring into her eyes. “I see it now. That’s what I can’t stand about you, Faith. You were never a predator. You’re just a pony, just prey.”

The weight of the contempt in his voice was palpable enough to cause Faith’s ears to flatten against her skull. Looking into his eyes in that moment, she could recognize none of the pony she’d accepted onto her team all those years ago. There was something sparkling in them then that told her that, even though he was hurt and confused and burning at the thought of revenge, he still was driven by something more. Now, though, his eyes were dull, the fire that pushed him forward having burned through him. It was as though he were on autopilot and the pony at the wheel had long ago abandoned ship. A slimy feeling enveloped Faith’s spine, like that of a snake tightening its hold on its victim. It was all she could do to stop herself from trembling. "You're going to see a specialist,” she declared, carefully watching the pony as she backed away. “She's somepony who helps others that have difficulty adjusting after traumatic events. Her name is Luminant Heart."

"I'm not the one who needs his head examined," Keen shot back. His right eye twitched. It lasted only a moment before Keen settled with a grimace. "What I need is to get back out there. What I need is to get away from another two-faced deceiver like you."

Faith squared her shoulders. "I would rather this be a request, but if I have to, I'll make it an order. You're going to see Doctor Heart. Is that clear?"

"Whatever," Keen Edge muttered with a dismissive wave of his hoof.

Faith frowned and pulled herself up to her full height. She stood at rigid attention and clicked her hooves together. "I repeat." Her voice was strong and unwavering with an undertone that made it clear this would not be argued. "Is that clear, Sergeant?"

Keen Edge went rigid for a moment. After he relaxed, he shook his head as though trying to loosen something inside his skull. Fluidly, he matched Faith's posture and expression.

"Crystal, ma'am."

"Good." Faith turned and knocked on the cell door. She paused at the threshold as the door was unlocked. "Don't make too much trouble, and you'll be out of here in a week." When Keen did not move or reply, she glanced over her shoulder at him. "We're all family in the Guard, Keen. Don't forget that."

As she crossed into the hallway and the door began to swing shut, Keen's voice drifted out to her.

"Family, huh? I had a family." The door clanged shut with a resounding finality.

I See the Tunnels, I Hear the Drones

"I'd like to know more about these sensations you spoke of in our earlier sessions."

"What about them?"

"You mentioned how certain sights, smells, and sounds sometimes remind you of events from your days in the Task Force. Let’s start there. You must have visited many changeling hives in those days. Can you tell me a little about what you remember about them?"

"You fought a lot of changelings, but it was never enough. Some escaped. Leads ended up going nowhere. The thing about changeling hives that you notice the most is the smell. Whatever it is that they use to make their nests, it stinks of moldy pond water. The places are built like mazes, too."

"I’ve been meaning to ask: What would your team do if you happened across a patrol or changeling guard while in the hive tunnels? How did you handle situations like that?"

“...”

“Mr. Edge?”

“...We’d neutralize them.”

~~*~~

The office glowed with comfort. It was an intimate space, small enough for anypony to feel as though they could shape the room into whatever form they pleased. There were two large picture windows, one adjacent to a plush couch that lie against one wall, the remainder of which was dominated by a floor-to-ceiling built-in bookshelf. Colorful spines that announced fanciful titles were mixed in among drier subjects.

The window on the opposite wall was partially obscured by a full, leafy potted plant and occupied the same side of the room as a desk. The desk was sparingly appointed, most of the flat surface area being used to corral a pair of literary towers constructed from various works on psychology and medicine. The rest of the usable desk space was consumed by writing supplies, notepads, and a small wooden box that radiated the scent of bergamot and vanilla. An empty mug sat near to the box.

Seated at the desk was an orchid pegasus mare, a wavy mop of mint-green mane flowing down past her shoulders. She reclined in a chair with a scuffed book cradled in her forelegs. Her blue eyes danced across the words with rapt attention, her entire world drawn into the pages. Her reading was interrupted, however, by three curt knocks on her office door.

"Yes?" she called out. The door opened, and a familiar mare appeared at the threshold. She was flanked by a bored-looking stallion dressed in the barding of a Royal Guard. The doctor closed her book, rose, and ushered in her guest. "Faithful Watch. Good morning. Please, come in."

"Good morning, Doctor Luminant Heart," Faith greeted, stepping inside the office. She nodded to her escort who wordlessly posted himself outside of the office and shut the door. Then the two mares shared a quick embrace and moved to sit down next to each other on the plush couch.

"Faith," the pegasus chided. "How many times do I have to tell you not to be so formal?"

Faith chuckled. "Sorry, Lumin. Force of habit." She yawned, politely shielding her open mouth with a hoof. “Long night. I still can’t believe how much paperwork this job has sometimes."

"Yes, you guard types have very interesting working hours." She folded her hooves in her lap. "I take it you're here about Keen Edge?"

"I am," Faith nodded. "My superiors are asking for a progress report, but Keen isn't showing much headway." She massaged her temples. "I'm worried. More so than before."

"You know I can't give details about what he and I discuss," Lumin gently admonished.

"I know. This..." She hesitated. "This is more of a personal concern."

Lumin tilted her head and leaned in closer. "So when you say 'I'm worried,' you mean you, Faith, and not Lieutenant Faithful Watch?"

A mild blush spread across Faith's cheeks, and she nodded. "Yes, but it's not what you might think." She frowned. "I've had to collect him from the brig twice this month. Both times were on charges of assaulting a citizen."

Lumin pressed the issue with a raised eyebrow. "Reformed changeling citizens, you mean."

"Right." Faith cursed under breath. “Once was in the middle of the night after getting kicked out of a bar. He’d been cut off after drinking too much hard cider and getting belligerent with the staff. He wandered into a park trying to find his way back to the barracks. There were a couple of changelings there. Out late celebrating or maybe just a pair of night owls, I don’t know.”

“I think I can see where this is going,” Lumin commented.

Faith ran a hoof through her mane and nodded. “He told me later that they were up to something, so he hid in some bushes nearby. Apparently, the changelings had bought a bag of walnuts to snack on and were cracking them open. That’s about when Keen attacked them. I don’t think they would have gotten away if he’d been sober. And Keen would be in prison, exiled, or worse. He already got off easy with Princess Luna."

Faith fidgeted and wrung her hooves. "The changelings are not who they used to be, Lumin. It seems most everypony can see and accept that except Keen." She leaned back and crossed her forelegs.

"Okay, sure, Queen Chrysalis is still out there somewhere. And I'm sure there are still drones that are hiding amongst normal ponies because they can't let go of their old ways. But Keen's not going after those few; he's after every changeling." She sighed. "All of them."

Lumin spread her hooves and offered a sympathetic shrug. "Can you blame him? You both spent years in the Anti-Changeling Task Force.”

"The Task Force operated for a long time, sure. But it wasn't one mission after another," Faith clarified. She reached up to scratch the base of her neck and let her gaze settle on the floor. "The big ops, the ones where we raided hives or broke up roaming bands of changelings, were rare. Most of our time was spent gathering intel, running down leads, and scouting. There was downtime between missions so our operatives could rest and decompress." Faith looked up to find Lumin's eyes holding her in their quiet, steady scrutiny.

"There's more to it than a few raids, Faith. And your time between them wasn’t always so mundane as investigations and scouting, was it." It wasn’t a question.

Faith ground her teeth and averted the therapist's calm stare. The ticking of the clock on the wall grew louder as seconds passed before Faith relented. "There were prisoner interrogations," she admitted. "Keen was always the first to volunteer. I gave him free rein because he always got the most information out of them."

"Were you ever present during Keen's interrogations?"

Faith shook her head. "In my reports to Captain Shining Armor, I only ever mentioned that a changeling prisoner was questioned and what information we gained. But I never included what I heard through the walls." Faith grimaced and leaned back on the couch when Lumin reached over to jot down an entry on a notepad. "The princesses were never directly involved, and Captain Armor had enough on his plate to keep any visit or inspection to a mere formality." There was a pause as Lumin continued to write and Faith sat back up. “Lumin, if we hadn’t gotten the information we needed from those changelings, more towns would have been attacked.”

Lumin finished her notations. "From the records I read, all of you had to experience awful, awful things." Then, she leaned forward. "But Faith, the choices made on the conduct of your operatives, on what actions you have taken, were yours alone. I need you to remember that when dealing with Keen. He followed your orders.” Faith clenched her jaw hard, but she remained silent. “Has he ever talked to you about what his typical day is like?" Lumin asked.

"Nightmares when he sleeps. The kind of stuff not even Princess Luna can banish." Faith continued to tick off items. "I've been there when he's woken up in a cold sweat. There's the constant suspicion that anypony he passes on the street or in an alley could be a changeling, waiting till his back is turned to attack him. He can't sit anywhere that doesn't have a clear exit in view, or with his back to a large window or crowds. It's paranoia."

Lumin closed her eyes and shook her head. When she opened them, they were focused someplace beyond Faith. "He's still in the Hive, if that makes sense. Anything around him could be a threat, so everything in his world is a danger." Her tail idly swished as she spoke. "There's no place, not even his mind, where he's safe." She refocused and reached out, taking Faith's hooves in her own.

"You need to understand, Faith. What Keen Edge is experiencing isn't paranoia or bad memories that he's reliving. It's not a series of flashbacks, and it's not an imagined world. Those changelings he attacked in the park? Those threats are real to him. The cracking noise, the one he says sounds like a changeling carapace breaking. Feelings of always being watched. Those are happening to him. Every. Day. It's all real."

Faith's ears drooped, and she looked away. She opened and shut her mouth several times before finally speaking. "Is he getting any better at all? Is it really that bad?"

"I'm sorry," Lumin said evenly, releasing Faith's hooves. "Unless I have written authorization from your chain of command, I can't divulge any specific information about our sessions that Keen hasn't already confided in you of his own free will."

"I know," Faith remarked. She rubbed her eyes. "I'm only asking for a general progress report, nothing specific."

Lumin hummed to herself for a moment before returning to her desk. She pulled a folder from a drawer and consulted a few of the pages within. "We're making progress, although it might be difficult to see." She sat down in her desk chair. "Everyone reacts to and deals with their demons and stresses in different ways. Some are overt. Some don't often come to the surface unless you draw them out. In every case, though, it takes time."

"I know that, but time isn't something the Guard has a lot of to spare when it comes to holding onto ponies that become a burden to the service."

A brief conversation, muffled by the closed door and followed by an insistent knocking, broke the pair out of their conversation. Lumin bade the new arrival to enter. The door opened and the attending Guard stepped aside, allowing entry to a large stallion wearing the badge of the Canterlot Police. He cleared his throat and tipped his hat to both mares. Then he looked to Faith. "Excuse me, Faith, but you're needed."

Lumin's eyes widened with recognition. "Officer Duster. What is it?" She gasped. "It's not Keen, is it?" The officer sighed and nodded.

Faith ground her teeth and slid off the couch. "I'm sorry, Lumin. I need to go. I'll check back in with you later." As Officer Duster moved aside to let Faith exit first, Lumin rose from her chair and escorted the pair to the door. As they marched off, the pegasus sighed.

“Faith,” she whispered, looking at her notes. “What in Equestria have you done?”

~~*~~

Keen Edge was a dead weight against Faith's shoulder. He had one foreleg draped across her back, but the other three may as well have been dead logs for all the help they were giving in keeping the stallion upright. She kept one leg wrapped tightly around his barrel and dragged him alongside her as she stumbled up the dark stairs of the enlisted barracks. Faith grunted with the exertion while Keen mumbled verses of a song, head lolling around and breath foul-smelling as boozy saliva leaked from his mouth.

"No place that I could go where they had not been before. When I got home, my heart was stone, 'cause I was still at war."

Twice, he slipped from her grasp, and Faith had to use a burst of weak telekinesis to keep him from making an abrupt acquaintance with the tile floor. The stallion Guard member assigned to accompany Faith moved to offer his support, but a sharp glare kept her escort at a short distance.

“I got him,” Faith hissed.

“Home or assigned place of duty only, ma’am,” the Guard pointed out sourly. “I’ll have to report this.” He nodded at Keen Edge. “You should have let the MPs handle him. Haven’t you done enough already?”

Faith’s glare stabbed at the Guard, but quickly softened before she looked away. “He’s my responsibility.”

Eventually, she managed to wrestle both Keen and herself up to the sixth floor of the barracks building and dragged Keen down the hallway to his room, the Guard awkwardly staying out of their way and posting himself to one side of the doorframe. Fumbling with her magic as Keen hummed to himself, Faith fished a key from the stallion's bit bag and opened the door. She flicked on a lamp, casting the spartan accommodations in pale amber light. Moving to the bedroom, Faith finally deposited her inebriated subordinate into his bunk and leaned against the mattress, catching her breath. Keen just continued to mumble lyrics after Faith composed herself and started to maneuver him into a more comfortable position.

"Mingled with the changeling cries, and the silence of the dead."

"Enough of that now," she scolded. "Come on. Let's get you settled." Faith pulled a wool blanket from a drawer and spread it out over Keen Edge, making sure to avoid tucking the edges in too tightly around him.

"I don't need your help," he slurred, tossing the blanket from his shoulders and nearly falling out of the bed. Faith caught him once again, frowning at the stallion for his immaturity.

"Yes, you do," she said softly. "And you're getting my help, whether you like it or not." Leaving the blanket alone, Faith disappeared into the kitchenette. She returned with a glass of water and a bucket. She placed the bucket on the floor next to the bed.

"You're heavier than you look, you know," she said, setting the drink on the nightstand.

Keen rolled over, away from her. "You've done your duty. Now go away."

Faith kept silent, watching Keen. "Believe it or not, I care about you, Keen," she replied after a time. "You need somepony to look after you right now."

"Who do you think you’re fooling?" he spat bitterly. “All of a sudden you’re my mom, is that it? Playing nice now that the mission’s done so you don’t get in any more trouble with the higher-ups.”

Faith flinched as though slapped, running her hoof along the bunk absently as she thought for a moment. She was on thin enough ice as it was, and this little detour certainly wasn’t helping matters. That Guard standing bored and more than a little peeved outside the door was no doubt going to follow through on his word with reporting it. Let him. This was more important right now than whatever punishment Captain Armor could cook up anyhow. “It’s not like that, Keen. And it never was. This isn’t about scoring brownie points, or appeasing anypony. Like it or not, I am going to be here for you, and that’s not going to change with you stumbling around stinking of stale cider.”

Keen Edge huffed. “It’s liquor.”

“And your point is?”

Keen looked at her over his shoulder, and for a moment she thought she’d said something stupid. To her surprise, however, he settled deeper into his bed, turning away from her. Just when Faith thought he’d fallen into a drunken sleep, he quietly said, “I’m a mess, Faith…”

Before Faith could respond, he continued, his voice strained, devoid of the drunken slur from before. “I’m in so many places that I can’t pick up all the pieces. And I feel them all, so far away from me. Screaming at me.” Faith silently listened, her shoulders sagging. “I’m thirsty, but I can’t drink. And I try to eat, but food is all stringy and turns to rust in my mouth. Celestia, I haven’t gotten a day’s rest since… I-It’s just…”

Faith’s ears perked at the sound of snoring, eyes returning to Keen to find him fast asleep.

She opened her mouth, but shut it when no words came. Then, she moved to the bedroom doorway and glanced back to Keen Edge.

"Get some rest, soldier. I'll be back to check on you in the afternoon." Faith clicked off the lamp and shut the front door behind her.

Someponies Call Me a Killer

“You look tired, Keen.”

“I don’t sleep much. It’s hard to fall asleep, and when I do, I can’t stay down for more than an hour at a time.”

“Do you have any physical problems that go along with your sleeplessness?”

“Headaches. Bad ones. They start behind my right eye and travel across my forehead. Makes my teeth hurt sometimes, too. There’s a lot of pressure. Like my eyeballs are going to pop out of my skull. My back constantly hurts. Knees and shoulders too. Nothing unusual.”

“That’s… not unusual to you?”

“Not for the job. Not considering what all we had to do.”

“Have you seen anypony about these pains?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“They’re not important. I take painkillers when I need to. Nothing else anypony can do for it.”

“I’m sure that’s not true, but I’m interested to hear why you think your pain isn’t important.”

“Everypony hurts. I’m no different. My pain isn’t more important than anypony else’s.”

“But if it affects how you live, isn’t that important?”

“No, what’s important is what I was doing before I was forced to waste my time talking to you. What’s important is the safety of Equestria. Tracking down those... things and wiping them out. And nopony else seems to understand that! And then we go and invite the wolves into the sheep’s pen. Now, Doctor, you tell me how my pain is ‘important.’ ”

“It’s not my preferred method, but I can prescribe you something that would help. It wouldn’t be something that you often take. Only when you need the help.”

“Drugs? Not a chance. I’m not getting knocked out so deep that I can’t hear a changeling creeping into my room at night.”

“Do you think that’s going to happen?”

“There’s always a chance. A lot of sounds wake me up. It’s an old habit.”

“Tell me about how you picked up this habit.”

~~*~~

Skidding on pebbles as she rounded a street corner at full gallop, with her ever-present Guard escort close behind, Faith fought to keep her balance. She stumbled once, but accelerated through the stuttering step, drawing nearer to a commotion at the base of a steep avenue.

“Again!?” the Guard shouted, struggling to keep up with Faith in his armor. “You can’t keep breaking the rules!”

“So throw me in the brig!” Faith shouted back, slowing slightly to keep from losing her balance again around the curves. “Just wait till I make sure he’s okay first.”

The roadway meandered such that it eventually plunged over a rise, snaking down a hill to an intersection at the bottom. Traffic had been diverted, and a couple of small crowds were being held back by a trio of uniformed police officers. The intersection itself was awash with debris. Nearby were the crushed remnants of a ponyless carriage, demolished under the weight of a balcony and support pillar that lay atop the rubble. Several burly stallions were hard at work, moving the most substantial pieces out of the road with a combination of magic and muscle.

An ambulance wagon was parked on the clearest side of the intersection. A pair of medics were tending to someone who was hidden behind the cart. Faith crossed the road, heading straight for a familiar face, and ignored an angry unicorn on the sidewalk who seemed to be fuming at a reporter about the loss of his priceless carriage. She made it to the other side and tapped the shoulder of the pony she had recognized.

“Officer Duster,” she said brusquely. “I got your message. What happened?”

The police stallion turned, looking up from his clipboard full of paperwork, and tipped his hat in greeting to both Faith and the panting Guard that stopped a short distance away. He then swept a hoof towards the mess of masonry and carpentry that was occupying most of the street. “A poorly made building and a poorly made carriage. One of the connector pins on that magic wagon rattled loose and sent the whole thing down the hill at full speed. The owner bailed out before the impact, but the carriage hit the support beams for that balcony. It nearly crushed your friend.”

“Is he okay?” she pleaded.

Duster nodded. “Yeah, he’s fine. A citizen by the name of Green Gloss happened to be crossing the street at the same time. Luckily for Keen Edge, Gloss acted quickly enough. If he hadn’t been there, then Keen might have been a pony pancake.”

Faith breathed a heavy sigh of relief. “Thank you, Officer. And thank your office for alerting me.”

“No problem at all, Faith.” Duster pointed to the ambulance cart. “Keen’s over there getting checked out by the medics. Just in case.” Faith patted Duster on the shoulder and started toward the wagon before a hoof stopped her. Faith turned to find her Guard glowering at her behind his helm.

“You are not making this easier on yourself, ma’am,” he hissed.

Faith tensed for a moment, saying, “I’m aware,” and then brushing his hoof off. She could feel his glare on the back of her head the entire way.

The medics had two patients seated next to each other at the rear of the ambulance. Both had scrapes, cuts, and bruises, but neither looked like they had suffered anything more than minor injuries. Keen Edge was closest to Faith as she approached, but his attention was wholly on the other patient who sat next to him. The changeling was about the same size as Keen Edge, with an emerald carapace and milky amber wings and eyes. Faith stopped short of the cart, hanging back when she heard Keen clear his throat.

“Thank you, I guess,” he said in a monotone voice. It was an acknowledgement more than anything genuine.

“You’re welcome,” the changeling replied in kind. He scratched at a bandage that covered a portion of his right foreleg and nonchalantly added, “I know who you are, by the way.”

Keen blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Word spreads quickly among my kind.” Gloss shrugged. “It’s the old hive mind thing, I think. Besides, everyling in Canterlot knows your face by now.” His voice chilled. “At least, they know enough to move to the other side of the street if they see you coming their way.”

Keen glared at Gloss. “Your kind invaded my home. You killed my best friend during the attack. When you grabbed me in the street, I thought you were finishing what your kind started with... him.”

“I’m sorry about your friend. It… What we did that day we did because we were desperate, but that doesn’t make it right.” Gloss chewed on his cheek for a moment, weathering Keen’s glare. “We’re trying to change, Keen Edge. We want this. You can’t slap a new coat of paint on something and call it ‘redeemed,’ but we’re willing to show you ponies that we’re trying if you lot give us the chance.” Gloss sucked in a sharp breath when he flexed his foreleg. A small, buzzing chuckle escaped from his lips. “I wouldn’t have bothered with you if I weren’t being genuine about this. ” He turned an icy glare Keen’s way as he said this. “Rogue guards like you out to burn everything we built to the ground. I’m just grateful there weren’t many of your ilk.”

Keen Edge said nothing. He sighed, then reached around his neck and unclipped a small disc of metal hanging on a strip of twine. Faith knew what it was, and whose name was inscribed into its surface. Every Guard received one after they graduated from boot camp.

“You want an apology, is that it?” Keen said, staring emotionlessly at Gloss. “Because you’re not getting one.”

Gloss snorted. “No changeling ever thought we’d be anything more than slaves to Chrysalis. Now look at us.” He slipped off the ambulance cart. “Keep your apologies; I don’t need them. I’m content with where I’m heading. Are you?” Gloss briefly conferred with one of the medics, gave him his thanks, and then walked away.

Faith waited until the changeling was gone before she approached, her escort moving a short distance away to stand aside on the sidewalk. Keen looked up and gave her a half-hearted sneer. “Ma’am. I can’t get rid of you, can I?”

She shook her head. “It doesn’t look like you were badly hurt.”

“Just a few bumps and bruises. From when that changeling tackled me.”

“He looked like he was in worse shape.” She peered into his eyes. “That wasn’t your doing, was it?”

Keen shook his head. “No. Part of the railing from the balcony bounced off the pavement and caught him in the leg pretty good.” He shuddered. “I’m pretty sure I heard his carapace crack a little. It sounded just like...” Keen’s eyes clamped shut and he twisted his head away from Faith, giving it a sharp shake, as though trying to shake something out of his skull.

“Keen?” Faith moved to alert one of the medics, but Keen blocked her with a raised hoof. A shiver ran through his body, starting at his ears and crept down to all four of his hooves. He shook his head again after the trembling subsided. He carefully opened his eyes. Taking a deep breath, he leaned back. “I feel it in my bones when I hear that noise.”

Faith looked at Keen, leaning there against the interior of the cart. Then she said, “Come on. Let’s get you back to the barracks.”

They consulted with one of the medical ponies before leaving, and Keen was pronounced fit enough to be transferred into military custody. Under the watchful eye of their accompanying escort, Keen Edge and Faithful Watch strode down the road toward the castle barracks. They walked in silence, Faith with her eyes forward and Keen looking intently at the ground. As they neared the portcullis that allowed entrance into the barracks courtyard, Keen cleared his throat.

“The changeling saved me. He knew who I was, but he still did it. Why?”

“Because you’re the same.”

Keen stumbled, and he sucked in a breath. His eyes shifted to Faith, the fiery daggers from so many previous conversations were sheathed, but poised.

“I mean like you before...” Faith sighed. “Before I sent you into the field. He knew your reputation, but still dove in to help you out.” She arched an eyebrow at Keen. “Sound like a familiar tune?”

Keen grunted. “It’s the same reason I gave you when you asked why I joined up. That, and...” His mouth froze as the name stuck in his throat. Keen closed his mouth and swallowed hard. “We both just wanted to do the right thing in those days.”

As the trio neared the barracks, Faith paused just outside of the doorway into the main hall, looking up at the seal of the Royal Guards that hung above the threshold. She shifted her gaze down to Keen, who fidgeted in the evening air. “Maybe you two have more in common than you think.” Her ears drooped as her voice grew softer. “And seeing what I’ve caused, maybe that’s something I never had to begin with.”

Keen Edge did not reply. He scrutinized Faith’s neutral expression for a few tense moments, his frown never wavering. Without a word, he turned and marched up the stairs to the barracks hall door and disappeared inside.

Faith released the breath she was holding and glanced back at her Guard escort, who looked at her disapprovingly. She sighed again as he pulled out a magic-nullifying ring and placed it on her horn.

~~*~~

A bead of sweat gradually inched its way down Faith's neck, the itching sensation causing the hairs of her coat to twitch. She remained stiffly at attention, unable to wipe away the offending irritant. Wrapped around her was a room that stood as a monument to the life of the stallion that occupied the wide desk in front of her: military awards and commendations from both Equestria and the Crystal Empire; bright photos of a lavender unicorn mare; a garish alicorn in a heart-shaped frame; and an older unicorn couple beaming proudly alongside a young Royal Guard cadet. Interspersed among the family pictures were group photos of mares and stallions in uniform. Some of the images featured a stoically stern expression across everypony's face, but many were light-hearted and suffused with an air of camaraderie that made the photos gleam with an inner intensity.

The office itself was quiet except for the rhythmic scratching of a quill across a scroll and the ticking of an ornate floor clock as its pendulum steadily swung back and forth. Faith maintained her impassive gaze as Shining Armor scribbled short, concise comments on papers from a manilla folder. Next to the documents sat a veritable mountain of folders, all containing more paper.

With a final flourish of his quill, Shining Armor placed the papers with his comments back into their folder and added it to a much smaller pile on the other side of his desk. As he reached for the next file on the mountain, he flicked a glance toward Faith.

"Have a seat, Lieutenant," he grunted, removing the first sheet from the file.

"Thank you, sir." She took a seat in the right chair of the two that sat in front of Shining Armor's desk. After a moment's pause, she cleared her throat. "Sir, are any of those the papers of my court-martial?"

"No." Shining Armor did not look up from his annotations. "Not yet, at least. After the trial last week, the post-trial documents were appended to your official record." He gestured to the manilla mountain on his left. "These are the newly redacted after-action accounts and intelligence reports from your Task Force—all of them. Much of what transpired is going into the furnace. Each pony under your command will get the same debriefing and be required to swear the same oath of confidentiality that you did after the court-martial." He stopped writing, sighed, and set his quill aside. Shining Armor rubbed his eyes before fixing Faith with his gaze. "I hate having to hide anything, but the damage to relations would be greater if the public ever heard about this."

Faith fidgeted in her chair. "Captain, I've heard rumors. Am I here because you're going to recommend a retrial, and that I am to be discharged?"

Shining Armor looked down to straighten the sheaves of paper in front of him. Then he leveled a cool gaze at Faith. "No. Although the board doesn’t believe that you have it in you to turn a new leaf and redeem yourself, Princess Luna intervened before the final verdict. She is, more than any of us, more qualified to judge a pony’s capacity to change who they are for the better. I’m not sure I completely agree, but I will follow my orders.” His glinting eyes bored into Faith’s. “We didn't give up on Keen Edge, and, for the time being, neither will we give up on you. Provided you toe the line. Understood?"

Faith nodded curtly. "Yes, sir."

"You made your case to the board," he continued, leaning back in his chair. "I understand the reasoning behind your choices, even if I disagree with them. What I need to hear from you, away from the eyes and ears of everypony else, is why."

Faith's shoulder twitched, and her ears flicked at some unseen irritant. "I don't follow."

"Why did you lie to me in your reports?" Shining Armor gestured at the redacted files. "The real reasons, Lieutenant. I want to know."

The silence that Shining Armor allowed to hang in the air was punctuated only by the ticking of the clock until Faith sighed. "I admit that I didn't disclose some things, sir, but I didn't lie. I reported the facts of the missions and their outcomes," she answered flatly.

"Your version of the facts, Faith," the stallion retorted with an accusatory jab of his hoof. "The court-martial board made it quite clear that your responsibility was to report everything about your missions, and especially about what you were condoning in order to achieve such a high success rate. Not just that which you wanted us, the princesses included, for Celestia's sake, to know."

Faith sniffed and lowered her chin just slightly. "Honestly? Because I believed you would have stopped me. The princesses would have been appalled. Even Luna, for all her stories about fighting monsters before her banishment." She lifted her chin back up. "I feared that the Task Force would have been disbanded earlier, or that command would have been given over to somepony who wasn't willing to get their hooves dirty to keep Equestria safe."

Shaking his head, Shining Armor leaned forward and placed his elbows on the desk. "‘Beware that, when fighting monsters, you do not yourself become a monster...’ ” he recited.

"‘...For when you gaze long into the abyss, the abyss gazes also into you.’ " Faith leaned forward too. "Sir, you’ve fought the horrors of the frozen northern reaches. You know that you can't fight predators without fangs of your own. My ponies were those fangs."

Something in Shining Armor seemed to click, and his ears swiveled forward. "Is that what you tell yourself to justify what you did to Keen Edge?"

Faith recoiled like she had been slapped in the face. Her mouth opened and shut several times before she found her voice. "I had a duty to the mission,” she said evenly. “To Equestria."

"You also had a duty to look after your subordinates' welfare, not manipulate them." The hairs on the back of Shining Armor's neck bristled. "And by purposefully keeping your superiors out of the loop, you’re just admitting how calculated this was from the get-go."

"Sir," Faith continued, her voice growing stronger. "I explained all of this to the board. Is this really about my conduct, or is it about how you feel about me withholding information from you?"

"You lied to me," he said, fuming. "You lied to the princesses and to those who trusted you, abused the power given to you. And for what? ‘The safety of Equestria?’ That is inexcusable! Above all else, you were, are, honor-bound to uphold the tenets of this country and tell the truth."

Faith slammed a hoof down onto the arm of her chair. "Equestria couldn't handle the truth! Sir, I agree that redeeming the changelings was a far better course of action than the alternative, but there's no telling what havoc they could have wrought. We were all that stood between Equestria and chaos! We fought back the tide! We took the fight to them!"

"Possibilities and maybes have nothing to do with treating every creature with respect. Did you ever even think about what you were doing to those under your command? What they, in turn, did to fellow sentient creatures? You were charged with finding them, with capturing them! The repercussions of your actions have ruined lives, Faith. If you can't understand that, then maybe I need to request an audience with Luna and recommend she reconsider the board's original decision."

Faith shot out of her chair and stood trembling before Shining Armor. "Do I understand? Of course I understand! I'm reminded every day of the consequences of what I've done. I know you're aware of how many times I broke house arrest rules to make sure Keen Edge made it home after one of his drunken binges. And that I speak with his therapist every week to see how he's progressing. I was his friend, and now Keen barely even tolerates being around me. And if Princess Luna doubts my words, then she’s free to come watch the nightmares that visit me every time I fall asleep." Faith dropped heavily back into her seat and took several deep, shuddering breaths.

"Every time I see a reformed changeling I can't help but imagine what they would think if they knew who I was; what I allowed ponies like Keen to do. If you want to know whether I'd do it all over again, I don't know. I can't say for certain. Neither can I say that I fully regret the choices I made. But every single day, I regret what those choices ended up doing. Especially to the pony who trusted me the most."

Shining Armor watched Faith silently long enough that she seemed to deflate in her chair. "Did you ever apologize to him?" he finally asked.

"No, sir," Faith muttered. "I never expected he would have accepted it." She jumped at the abrupt screech of wooden legs against the floor as Shining Armor rose from his chair and came around the desk to stand next to Faith. She looked up to meet his eyes.

"Forgiveness isn't approving what happened," he said sternly. "It's choosing to rise above it. You’ve made terrible choices, but that doesn't mean you have to continue making the same mistakes. I think Keen might be in a position to understand that now. I’m hoping you’ll understand that soon, too. Don't ever forget what you did to bring yourself to this point, but don't dwell on what went wrong. Instead, focus on what to do next. Spend your energy moving forward towards an answer."

"How can I move towards an answer if I don't even know the question?"

"That's for you to figure out, Lieutenant." He returned to his desk and retrieved a small scroll from a drawer, hoofing it to Faith. "You’re being assigned additional duties in addition to the disciplinary actions directed as a result of your court-martial." Faith took the scroll and unrolled it, scanning the document.

"Your restrictions in movement are limited to your personal residence and Guard facilities within the confines of the castle grounds,” Shining Armor continued. “Since the court-martial and investigation is over, a Guard will not accompany you at this time. You will, however, be required to check in with the castle guardpost every morning by 0700 and submit to random checks at your home. Although you were not demoted, you will not hold any position requiring subordinates to work under your supervision. Instead, you will be assigned administrative duties under the Head Quartermaster.” Faith sighed and nodded.

The litany of restrictions pressed onward. “Finally, Doctor Luminant Heart will attend you at your residence to begin mandatory therapy sessions. She’s going to try and help you, Faith, but make no mistake, your future in the Guard will depend on the kind of pony you choose to be and how you conduct yourself from this moment forward.” Shining Armor paused to allow the information to settle.

“You and Keen are more alike than perhaps either of you wants to admit,” he concluded. “Maybe Doctor Heart can help you figure out the right question so you can start working on that answer. But if you so much as set half a hoof out of line, not even the princesses will be able to save you from the brig."

Faith re-rolled the scroll and stood. She saluted. "Yes, sir. I understand."

Shining Armor returned the salute and, with a deft flick from his magic, opened the office door. "Don’t disappoint me again, Lieutenant. Dismissed."

Still in the Hive

"You look troubled, Keen."

"Something happened."

"What is it?"

"You know I was in an accident the other day."

"I do. Lucky for all of us, somepony saved you."

"Not somepony. A changeling. I don't understand his angle."

"You think he saved you as part of some bigger scheme?"

"He knew me. A lot of the changelings around Canterlot know me, apparently. He could have let the cart kill me, but he didn't."

"Would it matter more or less if he did it out of kindness or concern for a fellow citizen, instead of some other plot?"

"It matters."

"Yes, it does matter. It matters because if that reformed changeling saved you because he had other plans that involved keeping you alive, then your continued suspicion and hostility against them would be justified. Otherwise he did it simply because he was saving another pony."

"It doesn't erase their sins."

"What did Faith think about you being saved by Green Gloss?"

"She―How do you know his name?"

"Faith and I talk. I care about your recovery, Keen, so I ask people about you. If you want to know more about what Faith and I discuss, I can ask her if she’s comfortable with that later, but right now, I want you to do the talking."

"Why would it matter what Lieutenant Watch thinks about the situation? Or about me?"

"Keen, there are ponies all around you who care. I care because this is what I believe I was destined to do for Equestria: be an insightful ear to help others. Faith has demons of her own she has to fight, but she is genuine about wanting to heal this rift between you two."

"We're not friends."

"She's listed off the responsibilities of a superior officer to me before, Keen. Everything she has done for you this past year is far beyond what an officer would normally do for an enlisted Guardspony. It would be… presumptive of me to call you friends, Keen. That’d be a stretch, and… Yeah, it’s a stretch. But I do believe she genuinely wants to patch things up with you."

"Jury’s out on that one. For all I know, she’s got something up her sleeve, too."

"Well, that's a little bit of why you and I are here. There would be less reason to worry if you and I were to work through some of your more difficult times, and come up with some possible solutions."

"I... guess."

"Why don't I read you a short passage from this new book I picked up the other day."

~~*~~

Keen Edge let his eyes and mind lose their focus as he leaned against the warm gravestone while the flags of Equestria and the Royal Guard, looking down upon the grounds from high above, watched in silence. The polished, eggshell rock soaked up the heat of the afternoon sun and Keen's body warmth. A name was etched into the stone: Stalwart Spirit.

A flicker of green caught Keen's attention, and his eyes instantly focused on the glimmer of movement. His eyes returned to the headstone as familiar hoofsteps approached, stopping somewhere behind him. "What are you doing here," Keen demanded, his lips curling into a sneer.

"Paying my respects," Green Gloss replied calmly. He made a show of looking around at the rows upon rows of pristine grave markers.

Keen snorted, turning to look at the changeling. "You bugs put a lot of good Guards in the ground here."

"And you've put even more of my kind in similar holes," Gloss retorted. “And most of them didn’t get the privilege of a proper burial.”

Keen took a step toward Gloss, his muscles tense. A curse rose in his throat, but a gentle gust wind stayed his voice. It flicked at his mane and brought the scent of freshly cut grass to his nostrils. He swallowed the foul words and took a deep breath. "Why did you save me that day?"

"Because you needed saving, and I was there," Gloss answered matter-of-factly.

"No. It can't be that simple. Why did you do it?" Keen took another step forward and shoved his muzzle in close to Gloss's. "You obviously know who I am, and somehow you have an idea what I've been doing these past few years. So what’s your game?"

Gloss retreated a couple of steps before answering. "Because I knew some of them." Keen's face lost much of its vehemence, the stallion’s eyes widening almost imperceptibly.

Gloss turned to look down on one of the gravestones. The name Silverdust was etched into the stone. "Most of my kind are struggling to move on, but how can we when there are ponies like you determined to spit on us every chance you get? I’ve done a lot of things wrong, Keen Edge, but this isn’t one of them."

Keen said nothing as Gloss sat in the grass. The stallion glanced away when the changeling fixed him with a piercing focus. "I did it because you would have expected me to let you die. It would have made you right about us." Keen flinched, but Gloss continued. "I saved you because I want to be exactly who the world thinks I'm not. Who I am is my choice, and no one else's." The changeling twisted his muzzle into a pained grimace as he read the names on each headstone. "There's enough bitterness in the world without me adding to it."

Keen grimaced, his shoulders shaking as his throat went dry. "You said you knew some of them. The changelings we... I..."

Green Gloss stared at the sky for a time before closing his eyes and sighing. He looked Keen in the eyes, searching for something, before eventually saying, "Apoidea."

Keen tilted his head in confusion, opening his mouth to say something before the changeling continued. "That was her name. The one you captured."

"The one you 'disposed of,' " the changeling nearly said. Keen and Gloss were both aware of it, all the same. Green Gloss looked at Keen Edge, noting the tears beginning running down the stallion's face with tired eyes. His gaze then settled on the grave in front of them.

"‘Stalwart Spirit,’ ” he muttered, bowing his head. “I will not forget your name.” He turned back to Keen Edge. “I'm sorry for your loss. But I... don't think I can ever forgive you for what you've done," the changeling said softly. "Despite that, I'm willing to say what's passed is passed. Apoidea would have wanted that if she were still here." Without further words, Gloss rose and walked away, leaving Keen Edge alone with his tears.

The stallion watched the changeling leave before he stood and returned to the grave of Stalwart Spirit. For a long moment, Keen stared at the name in the marker. He sniffed, letting the smell of the grass and clean air fill his quivering lungs. Out came the breath, slowly. Then, Keen closed his eyes and leaned against the gravestone.

"Hey, buddy,” he choked out, shame filling him as he pressed a trembling hoof against the stone. “It’s, uh, been a while, huh? Been meaning to stop by sooner, but… Yeah.”

Sighing, Keen Edge lowered his head. “I wanted you to look away. I knew you wouldn't like what you saw. But something tells me you've had your eyes on me this whole time. I'm... I think it's time we talked."

~~*~~

Keen Edge brushed past the doors of the mess hall, the scent of old coffee and yesterday’s potatoes clinging inside his nostrils, and stepped into the bright and warm day. He glanced up and found not a cloud in the sky. He started down the trodden path that eventually led to his barracks, but a thought steered him abruptly off the walkway. He cut to the left and set out across the drilling field, heading in the direction of an obstacle course on the opposite end of the Guard’s compound. He was about halfway across the field when he noticed another pony doing the same.

Keen stopped when he recognized who it was that was approaching. The Guard on escort duty he had come to expect was absent. She wore a plain officer's uniform, bereft of decorations except for the dull, muted pewter of the twin bars on her lapel. Once trimmed short into a pixie cut, her gray mane had grown out and was wrapped into a messy, loose bun. With the bags under her eyes and the pallor of her coat, he could hardly recognize who he was looking at.

Faithful Watch, finally noticing him, started before stopping well away. They stared at one another a moment before she cleared her throat. "Hello, Keen Edge," she awkwardly greeted. When Keen said nothing, she took a couple of hesitant steps forward, as though sudden movement might provoke the stallion into either attacking or fleeing. “Didn’t think I’d bump into you so soon.”

"Ma'am," he tersely replied with a slight dip of his head. Otherwise, he did not move.

"I've... been meaning to check in about your sessions, but, heh, y’know..." she said with a shaky smile.

"The rumor mill at the barracks was that you'd be stripped of your rank by now, or locked up in the brig."

Faith toyed with a button on her sleeve, suddenly unable to look him in the eyes. Quietly, she said, "I almost was. Might still be before too long.” Keen shook his head disbelievingly, causing her to look up with an ironic smile. “Does that disappoint you?"

Keen’s ears flicked and he grunted. "Doctor Heart mentioned that my sessions were going to move to a different day of the week because she had a new patient. House calls to somepony I knew. It’s you."

The bags under Faith’s eyes seemed to grow heavier. "Yes. There are some... issues I need to work through. They believe I’m worth saving, even after everything."

She began to sweat as Keen said nothing, staring at her. "Good for you," he said after a time, his teeth gritted. There was another moment of awkward silence as Faith worked her muzzle to say something before Keen huffed. "Well, this has been fun. I wish you well, Lieutenant." He turned to leave, but Faith rushed into his path. The stallion drew up short and planted his hooves firmly into the grass.

"I'm sorry, Keen.” Faith held herself with legs held close together. She looked as though a gentle shove would send her face-first into the dirt. “I'm sorry for sending you into those terrible places. For letting you slip further and further away from the pony that was Stalwart Spirit’s friend. I did that, it was my fault, but I need you to know why."

"I don't care why," Keen deflected. Faith's eyes drifted downward, the mare’s posture sagging. Keen grumbled, drawing in a breath to calm himself. "Fine. You’ve got two minutes."

Faith brightened at that, clearing her throat as she spent a moment gathering her thoughts. "After Stalwart's funeral I knew you'd volunteer for any mission, do anything it took to get revenge on the changelings. More than anypony else, you were my weapon against them, and I treated you like a weapon. Not a pony."

Keen Edge's expression had not changed. "One minute," he muttered.

Faith frowned. "You're not the only pony who lost someone, Keen. Dozens of others lost loved ones and friends. I wanted revenge for them, but I couldn't do it alone." She took a step toward Keen, the intensity in her eyes rising. "I needed ponies that felt that pain. That’s when I found you…” Her voice hitched as she fought to keep herself from breaking. She forced herself to look him in the eyes. “And I'm so sorry, Keen. I never understood what I was doing to you until the night the Force was disbanded. I'm so sorry."

“That’s two minutes.”

Faith squeezed her eyes shut, fighting back her tears. But Keen Edge made no move to leave.

"...Do you still see me as a weapon, Faith?" he asked, sounding exhausted.

Blinking, Faith looked at the pony again, furrowing her brows. She shook her head fervently when the question caught up with her. "No, no. I see a pony that I want to help."

Keen sneered. "You don’t help ponies, Lieutenant. Your talents lie elsewhere.” Her ears splayed back at his words. “So what’s this really about? Because you feel guilty? Because now you have to eat alone and work alone and stay locked up in that gilded, three-story ‘prison’ of yours?"

"No." She laid a hoof on his shoulder. "It's because I want to fix the mistakes I made."

Keen tensed his shoulders and shrugged off the touch, gritting his teeth. "I don't need you to fix me, Faith. You’ve done plenty already."

Now Faith stepped back. A lock of her gray mane fell across her eye, but she did not move to brush it away. "Then help me fix myself. Please."

"Is that what you want from me?" Keen snorted. "Forgiveness? Let me tell you something, Lieutenant, that I learned about forgiveness.” He sighed. "It’s not easy. Especially when you're trying to forgive the one that inflicted it." He quieted, and his tense muscles relaxed. "I learned something recently… You’ve gotta change for you, because you want it. Not just because you think it’ll convince somepony to say it’s all water under the bridge."

Faith looked away, unable to meet Keen's eyes. The pair stood in silence until Faith swallowed a lump in her throat and nodded. "I see. Where did you learn that?"

"From someone who couldn't forgive me," Keen replied glumly. “And I don’t blame him for it.” He looked at her for a time. "But maybe he didn’t have all the answers. I don’t know if I can forgive you either, Faith.” Faith nodded sullenly at that, as though she’d expected it, the mare wearily closing her eyes as she clenched her jaw. Keen looked at her for a moment, conflicted, until, releasing a breath he didn’t even know he was holding, he said, “But… I’d like to try. To give you a chance.” Faith’s eyes widened, her breath catching in her throat as a tear ran down her face. Keen allowed himself a small smirk. “It’s what Stal would want. We’ll see if you meant it when you said you were looking to be somepony better." Then, he left.

Faith stood alone in the grass, unable to watch Keen depart. The sun, high overhead, blazed with such intensity that her shadow had all but disappeared. Only the barest hint of a breeze offered any respite to the heat that washed over her coat, but Faith did not notice the sweat beginning to trickle down her back and neck. She lifted her head and shut her eyes against the blinding glare, the darkness behind her eyes blossoming into a muted orange.

“Yeah,” she said to herself, rubbing the wetness from her eyes with a small smile. “We’ll see, Keen.”

~~*~~

The minute hand of the clock above Luminant Heart's office door slid over to five minutes before one in the afternoon, just before three short knocks rapped against the doorframe. With a slight squeak, the door swung open, and Keen Edge stood at the threshold. Lumin, who had been stirring a cup of freshly brewed tea, beckoned him to enter.

"Good afternoon, Keen Edge," she greeted, glancing at the clock. "You're early." She chuckled. "I think this is a first for you."

"Doctor Heart," Keen replied politely, standing just inside the office.

Lumin tapped her stirring spoon against the teacup and set it aside. She replaced it with a pencil withdrawn from a scuffed book. Dog-eared corners plumped up the pages of the cover enough for Keen to read the title aloud.

"Redeployed: The Battle Within."

"Just some light reading. A bit dry in some places, but it’s incredibly insightful," Lumin said, gesturing for her patient to take a seat and silently offering him a cup of tea.

"Heh. No thanks. Never developed a taste for that stuff." He moved to the large, beige couch and sat down. Though he slouched a little, his head was up and his eyes alert.

She looked Keen over, a gentle smile settling upon her lips. “You clean up very nicely,” she complimented.

Keen tousled his short mane and straightened a clean jacket with his rank sewn into the sleeves. "I'm back in regs. Picked up some fresh uniforms, too. Glitterswift said I didn't look much like a Guard, so I did something about it."

Lumin's eyebrows arched, and she took a small sip of her tea. The fragrant steam infused the air with the scent of bergamot and vanilla. A writing pad joined the pencil she had picked up earlier. "Glitterswift? Tell me more."

"Oh. Right. She's, um, somepony I met while working out at the gym. I've been going two or three days a week for about a month now. She's a pegasus. Flies with the local weather team." Keen's ears flattened, and he glanced away, picking a lazy cloud floating beyond the window as his focal point.

"Well, she used to fly with them. Back during the invasion, a changeling that was dive-bombing the city clipped her midair."

Lumin winced. "That sounds terrible."

"Yeah, the collision and crash-landing nearly took a wing off, but she pulled through. She can't fly for more than a hundred meters, but she manages the weather team's schedule and liaisons with the city council." Keen returned his attention to Lumin. "It gives her a way to contribute to the life she used to enjoy. And it helps the bureau when they have somepony working with them who has experience with the job."

He twirled a hoof idly. "Anyway, she works out at the gym to keep her good wing in shape. You know, just in case they're ever able to make some kind of replacement for the other."

"That's an excellent attitude to nurture," Lumin commented.

He nodded and chuckled. "Yeah. I guess broken ponies attract broken ponies."

"You're not broken," Lumin gently reprimanded.

"Okay, maybe not, but you'd definitely find me at a thrift store on the clearance shelf."

Lumin snickered. "Alright, wise guy, I'll give you that one. Please, continue. Do you two spend time together outside of the gym?"

"We've started to. She, um, kind of helps distract me from a few of the things that usually trigger my... issues."

Luminous made a few notes on her pad. "Distraction is good in the short-term, but you still need to deal with the emotions when they come up." She scooted her chair closer to Keen Edge. "Is Glitterswift someone you can confide in when you need to?"

Keen was silent for several seconds. The second hand of the clock ticked louder and louder until he nodded. "I think so. I'd like to think she could be, but we're not quite there. Not yet."

"But you are making progress; you're pressing forward," Luminous asserted, and, with hesitation, Keen nodded again. "That's good to hear." She leaned back in her chair with a confident smile on her face and pencil poised over the notepad.

"Let's continue where we left off last week."

~~*~~

An hour later, Doctor Heart made a final note and glanced up at the clock face. "It's about time for us to wrap up for today." She tapped her pencil against her notepad. "I have a good feeling about your future, Keen, but I'm curious about your own assessment. Do you feel as though you can move past your fears? The presentiments you hold about changelings? Not today, obviously, but in the future."

Keen shrugged. "It's too soon to tell. I don't feel like I'm ready. Not yet." His earlier positivity receded as a shadow crossed over his eyes

"I can still remember the tunnels. The sounds. The smells." He swallowed hard. "The screams. I don't think I'll ever be able to forget any of it." Keen's ears flattened against his head. "Does it ever stop?"

Lumin set her notepad and pencil aside, and carefully folded her hooves in her lap. She took a measured breath and tilted her head enough so that she could look past the glass panes of the window nearest to Keen. Beyond stood a tree, a small brown squirrel carefully picking its way across the branches with cheeks bulging from nuts packed tightly within.

"I want to tell you that one day all the struggles will end and that you can confidently say you've been cured of all your woes and memories." She continued to watch the squirrel as it squeezed its head into a narrow hole in the trunk of the tree. When its head reemerged, the squirrel's cheeks were no longer bulging. Then it scampered back down the tree and continued to forage along the ground.

"But the truth is that every day is a struggle. Some days will be easier, and some will be harder. We all work and toil towards different ends. And when one goal is completed, another takes its place.” Lumin pulled her gaze from the squirrel outside and settled on Keen. “For you, my goal is that, working together, we can get you to a place where you can constructively deal with the troubles that you will face. The memories may never fade, but how you react to and process them will be the key to moving forward. And even if the memories remain, that doesn't mean they have to define who you are as a pony. Letting go of the anger and resentment, it takes a lot of pressure off the mind. And the heart. It's likely going to be a lifelong mountain to climb, but I know that you're the kind of pony that doesn't shy away from a challenge. I know that you want to try. Sometimes that's all we can keep doing."

She searched Keen’s eyes for something, looking past the hard emotional shell. “Before we get to scheduling next week’s visit,” she began, “there’s a concept I want to explain to you. I’d like you to think about it and we’ll discuss it more later on. It’s called corpus delicti.”

Keen pressed his lips into a thin line as he thought. “What’s that?”

“Body of the crime. It’s a term used in our judicial system, so bear with me. If something bad happens to someone, if they have done something terrible or have had something terrible done to them, that individual seems to need evidence to prove the event itself wasn’t just some horrible dream. It’s as though this evidence is the only way to show that something bad has happened, and if there’s no obvious proof for either them or the world to see, it’s as though it never happened. This means, oftentimes, someone must be their own evidence, if that makes sense.”

The corners of Keen’s mouth curved downward. “Their own evidence? I’m the evidence for what happened to the changelings we caught. Is that it?”

Lumin nodded. “I know the records of the Task Force have been sealed, and everypony involved, including me, is forbidden to talk about it publicly. But inside this office, we’re free to say what we want.” Her face carried a warm glow gifted by the sunlight. “You were injured, mentally and emotionally. And you were manipulated into allowing yourself to become something ponies were not meant to be. You did things that ponies were never supposed to do. These things are not okay.” Keen flinched at the words, but Lumin continued with a gentle firmness.

“It would make sense that you would want those wrongs to be remembered, both yours and the changelings’ that invaded. You would want to show that you knew it wasn’t okay, even if you can’t say it anymore, by being the evidence for the bad things that happened. Especially if, somewhere deep inside, you knew that what the Task Force was doing was wrong.”

“I think I see where this is going,” Keen growled.

“I think you do,” Lumin confirmed. “But humor me for a moment. How did you, Keen Edge, demonstrate that you were hurt?”

“Drinking,” he replied matter-of-factly. “Fights. I’m surprised the Guard hasn’t kicked me out by now.”

“There’s more,” Lumin urged. “Go on.”

Keen glanced out the window. He watched the squirrel as it foraged around the base of the tree before it abandoned the search for possibilities that might lie in the green grass on the other side of the tree. “I have my problems. I’m angry. It’s hard for me to trust, and until Glitterswift came along I hadn’t made any friends for years.” Lumin looked at Keen expectantly, and he obliged her silent question. “I guess I wouldn’t have these problems if the invasion had never happened.” He sighed. “And Stal would still be alive.”

Lumin nodded.“It’s difficult to think about all of the what-ifs, but if you were able to be in a healthy relationship one day, or if you weren’t so angry or drunk, then would that make it so all that happened didn’t actually occur?”

“Of course it still happened!” Keen snapped. Lumin patiently remained silent after his outburst. He fidgeted on the couch. “Me being who I am now doesn’t change that.”

“All species, not just ponies, who have experienced trauma often feel that if they go on to live good lives, it’s as though the trauma didn’t happen, or that it wasn’t really as bad as they remember. Right now, even if you wanted to, you couldn’t just talk to somepony from your barracks about what happened to you.”

Keen’s voice dropped to almost a whisper. “Or what I did.”

“You feel as though you need to keep saying ‘this was wrong.’ As though you need to punish yourself. And in the meantime, life passes you by.”

He nodded slowly. “Yeah.”

Lumin inched forward and reached out to Keen to take his hooves in hers. He flinched at the contact, but did not withdraw. “I need you to listen closely, Keen. What happened to you, and what you did to those changelings, will never be okay. You know that. Even if you moved on and lived a full and happy life, none of that would change. It wouldn’t make what happened right.”

Keen met Lumin’s eyes and he took several deep breaths. “I still want revenge. Maybe not as badly anymore. And maybe... not in the way I used to want it. But it’s still there.”

Lumin gave Keen’s hooves a firm squeeze. “I understand. There’s an old proverb for that, I think.” Her eyes twinkled. “‘Living a good life is the best revenge.’ ” Lumin’s hooves wrung together, and her eyes were wide with hopeful anticipation. A half-cocked smile tugged at the edges of her lips while Keen took in and processed her words.

“Her name was Apoidea,” he said, his ears flattening against his head.

Lumin tilted her head questioningly at the non-sequitur.

“The changeling who died because of me,” Keen said, looking into her eyes. Lumin drew in a steadying breath as she squeezed his hooves. Keen turned away, trying to hide the mist in his eyes. “I have to remember her, Lumin. I have to.” It was silent for a long while as the stallion collected himself, Lumin gently rubbing his hoof all the while.

"Some days I don't want to fight anymore," he finally said quietly. "I've been fighting for so long that it just feels normal to be on edge all the time. I'm tired, Doc. And transformed or not, a changeling will always be a changeling to me." Lumin's anticipatory smile wavered. Keen Edge noticed and he grunted a small laugh. "Don't go calling in the cavalry, but I'm... open to the possibility that Gloss’s motives were good. And the idea that the best revenge might be to... move on." Lumin released his hoof, listening with rapt attention.

He closed his eyes and took three deep breaths, in through the nostrils and out through the mouth. "I guess..." His thoughts trailed off as he opened his eyes. Then, his ears perked up, and he gave Luminant Heart a lopsided grin.

"Yes?" Lumin urged, her own hesitant smile growing.

"I guess if a changeling can change, I could too. Like you said, sometimes all we can do, all we need to do, is try."

Author's Note

Last fall, I read an article about PTSD in a magazine which prompted me to start looking into the matter. That research created the initial idea for this story. Following that, I looked into how the effects of traumatic situations are diagnosed. I took a few self-report questionnaires to see what questions are asked of people, read through several public reports, and started asking questions. This led me to realize just how razor-thin of a line many people are walking, sometimes daily, between continuing to function on a “normal” level and losing their balance off the cliff’s edge. This little tale was never meant to be an in-depth look at the struggles of someone afflicted with this disorder. Instead, it’s looking over the shoulders of characters while they wrestle with experiences and the fallout of those experiences. I still know woefully little about the subject, but understanding that you’re starting from a position of ignorance is often the start point in the pursuit of knowledge.

A special thanks goes to Heartshinefor answering my questions about PTSD, therapist/patient confidentiality, pointing me in the right direction when I needed reference articles, and for just being an all-around awesome person. And an enormous thank you goes to my editor, SirReal, for the extensive editing, thought-provoking additions and questions, and all the time invested in making this story far, FAR better than it was when I started.

What you’ve just read is something very different from my original vision. While my first iteration did touch on the subject of PTSD, it was originally shown only through the detached lens of Faith’s viewpoint. She was supposed to be the ignorant observer who watched Keen spiral downward while functioning as a direct representation of those who are wholly unprepared and unable to handle friends and loved ones with such an affliction. Keen’s plight was toned down, Faith was trying to be supportive, and there was a generous heap of fluffy feelings by the end. That was last year’s plan, and it seems 2020 might have gotten ahold of this story because it didn’t remain in that configuration for long once SirReal arrived on the scene.

The original ending had not been earned, and I knew that from the start. The problem was twisting the path back up to the beginning in a relatable way but still carried an emotional kick. I feel like at some point we skipped right past the kick and barreled straight into a sucker punch to the gut. At least, that’s how I felt when I would check my Google Docs notifications and see edits and additions that numbered in the triple digits! SirReal posed questions and prompted ideas that turned this story on its head by opening a darkened cellar door and saying, “Come on. Let’s see what’s down there.” Keen was meant to be a shining example of overcoming adversity. Faith was supposed to be his well-meaning superior and friend. A single edit changed that entire dynamic, and although it took me a few days to come to terms with the new path that one change would take us down, hitting the Accept button proved to be the best choice. Some paragraphs and dialogue exchanges ended up being wholly from SirReal’s creative thoughts, but I never felt like the story was being hijacked. Instead, I felt like I was being led toward a conclusion that I would not have found on my own, and it was a conclusion of which I was profoundly prouder.

This has certainly been a learning experience. One of my stories lying in stasis until last year, "With the Best of Intentions," was my first foray into stories with a darker edge. Although it gathered little attention, something I'm convinced is because it details my interpretation of pre-War events in the Fallout: Equestria universe, it stood as my proudest achievement until the minor success of "The Substitute Teacher." My fondness for Tempest/Fizzlepop aside, that tale spawned an idea for an arc that spanned four stories plus a bridging fic, over half of which are either already complete or ready to begin the editing process. Even with the Slice of Life feel to those stories, I always felt drawn to characters with something of a darker past or aspect, hence the starring role of Tempest. Keen Edge and Faithful Watch had the potential for an edge, but it wasn't until Keen's feelings towards Faith were turned sour through the editing process that this potential was realized. Thus, "In a Chang(el)ing World" now stands as the story in which I am most proud.

***

“Faith is a manipulative bitch.” That was the thought that burned in my mind when I first read this story, and I made Kai very aware of this. Believe it or not, she played a much smaller role in the original text, largely being a “spectator” through whose eyes we saw Keen Edge, watching but being unable to help as he spiraled further and further into a pit of drunken violence and bitter aimlessness. She offered Keen his position on the Task Force, helped him out when he did dumb things, and kept tabs on his recovery. This was Kai’s original vision for the Lieutenant.

That all changed when I suggested that Keen spit in her face.

After that, the dominoes continued to fall, and the story now is very different from when Kai first opened the door and allowed me to just run rampant like a bull in a china shop. The guy has the patience of a saint, I tell you, and I thank him profusely for putting up with my erratic ideas and suggestions. So he and I worked closely together over the course of these past five months, making tweaks to characters, big and small, adding new scenes and plot points, even changing the tone of the overall story. What was meant to be a simple proofreading sweep that’d take a week or so went in a direction neither of us could have expected, and I hope I’m speaking for the both of us when I say I think it came out fantastically.

Without a doubt, Kai has made this one of the most enjoyable times I’ve had as an editor on this site, and, after working an ungodly amount of time with him on this monster of a project, we at long last bring Keen Edge’s journey to its close. With that said, dear readers, we hope you enjoyed!