The Ghost: Assorted Adventures

by EthanClark

Rating: teen
Tags: Gilda, Main 6, Princess Luna, Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Rarity, Romance, Thriller, Adventure
Length: 37254

The insurrection of Manehatten was only the beginning. Follow the tales of Equestria's haunted hero as he seeks to keep evil hooves from terrible powers.

Silver Spade's days of swashbuckling and heroism have only just begun. After the defeat of the nefarious Shield Wall, dark forces have emerged to fill the void of power left behind, forcing Silver to take the fight to them as Equestria's masked marauder, The Ghost. Combating dark and treacherous powers, it may take all our hero has to keep his land safe from evil.

Follow the new and exciting tales of The Ghost and his friends as they enter the dark underbelly of Equestria's criminal contingent in the name of friendship and justice.

-----------------------------------------

Welcome back to the stories of The Ghost and allies in my ever-expanding Ghostverse storyline. The decision to release a serialized collection of short stories was founded in the old radio dramas and weekly comic strips of the Lone Ranger and the Phantom, respectively. As always, you may find easter eggs and little cameos that hearken back to these old pulp dramas. Keep a running tally if you'd like, I'm sure I'll lose count along the way. :rainbowlaugh:

Once this series concludes, there may be one more story to wrap up the whole plotline. So stay tuned for that final chapter.

Published 2020-05-10 03:00:01 UTC
Last updated 2020-07-05 16:59:46 UTC

A Larger World, pt. 1

Dark clouds, gathering over the quaint little town beneath them, rolled in the sky. Their haunting shapes were somber and broad and had lingered in place for the past two days. They robbed the city below of the grace of Celestia’s sun, selfishly hoarding its warmth for themselves.

In a flash, streaks of color rose up from the city below, launching themselves skyward and through the oppressive barrier in practiced formation. Again, the squadron hurdled through the air and struck on their descent. The pegasus weather team, for the first time in recent memory, assembled to take back the solar gift their Princess had given them, and each powerful impact along the darkened clouds freed more and more light for the city below.

This marked the first time the newly organized Coltistrano Weather Brigade tested their mop-up maneuvers on an otherwise dreary day, adhering to the equally new weather schedule brought up by the Office of Patrol and Protection. The notion of proper organization, let along an organized form of government, was an almost foreign concept to the citizens of Coltistrano, but ever since the harrowing reign of criminality orchestrated by the crime lord Serenade was brought to an end, the city could once again stand on its own hooves and work toward a renewed sense of normalcy.

The brigade made their final assault on the sky with an excitable vigor and, once the last cloud dispersed, made their triumphant fly-by known to all of the citizens below. Fillies and colt cheered to the stalwart sky-warriors as they rocketed toward the governor’s mansion, and the seat of Coltistrano’s government. In practiced unison, the brigade flared their mighty wings and, with a final flap, touched down upon the polished stone street. Their leader approached the duo of ponies at the mansion’s front gate.

“Mission accomplished, my lord,” the rosy pegasus announced with a bow. “The skies are clear, and those storm clouds will think twice before they pull a stunt like that again!”

“A fantastic job, Captain,” said the governor “and to you all. A finer weather brigade, there surely is not.”

The Captain gave a second bow to the governor before turning her stern gaze toward the noble weather ponies.

“Alright, troops, back to base then hit the showers! I want full reports to the OPP completed by 1500! March!”

The group of pegasi saluted, hovered a short distance from the ground, then about-faced behind their Captain in a procession toward the Office of Patrol and Protection’s Weather Department just down the road. As the governor looked on with a smile, a creamy white pegasus beside him spoke up, holding a hefty clipboard in between her hooves and wings.

“That marks the weather report off the list, now it would be best to get an update from the City Restoration Committee about the fortifications made to the south end. There are a number of improvements I fear we’re behind schedule on, my lord.”

“The CRC are hardworking ponies, Tulip,” the governor declared calmly, straightening his ornate red tailcoat. “They can handle it.”

“Of course, sir, but you remember all the trouble the infrastructure on the east side gave us. If the CRC is to become our new Office of Community Projects we need to know they’re reliable. The treasury-”

“The treasury will be just fine, Tulip,” the governor chuckled, pushing argent hairs from his face. “You worry too much.”

“Yes, my lord, but… I want to see my home as beautiful as my family remembers it.”

“So do I, but the only way we can do that is by trusting each other.” The governor placed a hoof on Tulip’s shoulder, comforting her. “Go ahead and get an update, but be gentle, okay? We all want the same thing.”

Tulip gave a soft smile and bowed to the governor before stowing the clipboard in her saddlebag and walking toward the south end of Coltistrano. The governor gave a sigh, allowing the rest of his chuckles to escape before passing through the gate and into his once-dilapidated home. Memories of its sorry state eight months ago filled his mind, but in that time the garden beds had all but grown back in full and any damage left in Serenade’s careless wake had been reversed, thanks to the City Restoration Committee. The ornate mansion doors were pushed aside as the governor entered his home.

“Silver!” The call came from atop the central staircase, a chestnut mare as its source. “I’m glad you’re back. How was the brigade’s first outing?”

Silver Spade watched his mother, Honey Hearts, descend the well-polished staircase and along the pristine red carpet lining the dark wood of the floor. With a smile the two embraced.

“They were just fine, mom. Thankfully, Tulip is a fantastic judge of character. I’m not sure I could’ve set all this up without her.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, Silver, you’re a resourceful boy. Since you mentioned it, maybe you could thank Miss Tulip with dinner at the house? You two work so well together.”

“Mom”, Silver groaned, his annoyance betrayed by a small smirk. “Stop trying to set me up with mares.”

“Yes, silly me, I forgot. The great Ghost of Coltistrano, Hero of Equestria, is too busy for romance.” Honey’s tone grew more bombastic as she continued. “No! For his world is one of plots and pain, with no bountiful light of joy radiant enough to pierce the veil of his cold, cruel fate!”

“Rarity’s been lending you books again, hasn’t she? You’re just upset because Mrs. Lace is trying to set Lily up with me, too,” Silver said dryly.

“How did you know?!”

“You two have the most enthusiastic of tea parties… in my house.” Silver stuck a playful tongue out to his mother, who giggled and slapped his shoulder.

“Silly boy! One of these days, Silver, you’ll see I’m right. Now…”

Honey trotted gingerly toward a side table next to the staircase. She swept her hooves along the various papers lining its surface until she gathered several envelopes together, some more enticing than the rest. She turned again to her son.

“These came for you. I still don’t see why you won’t employ a servant. Your diamond dog friend would be a tremendous help.”

“Rusty is a friend, mom, not a butler.” Silver took the letters from his mother’s hooves, lethargically flipping through them. “And he is far too busy as Gorn’s first mate to help me around the house.”

“But he would look so adorable in a bow tie and shirt. Ooh! We could have Miss Rarity-”

“We are not!” Silver shot back with lighthearted surprise, laughing at his mother’s persistence. “Now, please, I have work to attend to.”

“Yes, my lord,” Honey replied in a tone that feigned reverence. “Thank you for breakfast, sweetie.”

Silver could only shake his head in bewildered amusement as Honey Hearts trotted out of the main lobby and out into Coltistrano. With letters in hoof, Silver walked up the grand staircase, tracing the path from his first visit here, and into the main office of the mansion. The room was decidedly less regal than it was under Serenade’s occupation. The gilded leaf was stripped away in favor of a lush sea green color and pieces of art from his travels. The desk was large and sturdy oak wood, sporting an impressive number of drawers that were almost full, littered with documents and files from Silver’s time as Lord of Coltistrano. From within his coat, Silver produced a small knife and began slicing at the stack of letters, each one less capable of holding his attention than the last.

One letter, however, stuck out to him and almost demanded his full attention. It was a pale grey parchment and covered in an almost illegible script. Silver knew it in an instant and grew giddy as he carefully unfolded the missive.

Dweeb,

Greta won’t shut up about getting in touch with you about this. I told her it’s no big deal but you know how she can be. Absolutely unreasonable. So here I am, taking time away from my very important work, to send a dumb letter across the ocean. I’ll keep it brief.

I’m in Trottingham, we’re trying to open a bakery, and there is some weirdness happening in this town. Please get here ASAP, I’d like to see you so Greta gets off my hide.

Gilda

P.S. If you find any stashes of bits Serenade left behind in the house, I call dibs.

Silver could only chuckle at the letter. He gently folded it up and placed it into the breast pocket of his tailcoat. It had been some time since he received a letter from Gilda, and even longer since she left the crew of the Tornado. Nevertheless, Silver found it hard to refuse both a chance to visit a friend as well as unravel whatever nefarious dealings Gilda mentioned. He stroked his chin, mulling over the prospect in his mind, but he knew the decision was made as soon as he folded the letter.

In a single motion Silver stood from his desk and made a beeline down the sparsely decorated hallway toward his bedroom. The ornate wooden passage gave way to the large, open room at the corner of the building, it’s clean white walls lined with large windows that let the recently liberated sunlight shine through. To the right of the door and beside his large boudoir was a small spiral staircase leading to the first floor study. The pure white walls were soon replaced with towering shelves of books and scrolls surrounding a pair of plush sofas before an imposing fireplace.

Beside the hearth stood a single table, adorned only with an ornate picture frame housing a sketch of Silver’s former mentor, drawn in his honor and memory. He held his gaze and placed a hoof along the frame, before bringing it down upon a switch the picture concealed. After summoning a sharp cacophony of metallic clicks the fireplace drew itself open to reveal a long and dark passage that led beneath the house. Silver stepped through the secret threshold and down the narrow pathway, tugging a chain to the side that returned the fireplace to its usual, unsuspecting form. Before long he reached the bottom of the stairway.

“No place like home.”

The cavernous compound was well lit by fires housed in enchanted sconces, illuminating the various stations of Silver’s underground headquarters which sat atop smooth platforms of polished bedrock. An alchemy station, book shelves, a showcase of trophies, and a training yard all flanked the main floor of the cave and drew Silver’s attention to the glass monolith before him. A display, housing the fabled cloak passed down to him from his master. Silver felt a light rumble beneath him, then hot breath upon his neck.

“Pony like new cave?”

Silver resisted the instinct to swing a hoof at the offending voice, electing to give a ragged chuckle at the curiosity of his diamond dog friend.

“Yes, Rusty, it’s working out very well. Have you decided to not sneak up on me, yet?”

“Rusty not sneak,” he chirped. “Rusty dig cave. Cave is Rusty’s home, but pony friend can use some cave, too… why is cape in the glass box?”

“Because it looks cool,” Silver said plainly as he began stowing items from around the lair into a hefty, dark saddlebag. “How would you feel about going on a trip?”

“Trip? Trip where? Rusty no like trip. Other ponies mean, rude, and smelly. Not like crew, crew safe, crew like Rusty. Still smelly, though.”

“You don’t have to come along,” Silver laughed, drawing the cloak from its glass confinement. “I’m visiting Gilda in Trottingha-”

“Rusty want to see birdcat!” The diamond dog’s announcement echoed across the spacious cavern. He bounced in place, panting in excitement at the thought of seeing Gilda again.

“Then go get ready and meet me at the Tornado. We’ll be leaving soon.”

Rusty gave a satisfied bark, then crawled on all fours toward a hidden burrow in the wall and disappeared from sight. Silver shook his head at the almost childish display of his friend, but the emotion was fleeting. His eyes turned to the cloak in his hooves. It wasn’t the first time he had worn it since his battle in Manehatten months ago. More than once, he set out into the night to undo some force of evil that threatened Coltistrano, but there was still a hesitation. It was almost palpable.

“Gilda just needs help,” he asserted, as if his own echo would ease his worry. “It’s not some “lose the girl, save the world” situation. It’ll be fun.”

With a firm sigh he stashed the cloak into his bag and heaved it over his haunches. He walked back up the tunnel, through the hidden passage, and once again walked through his illustrious home. He placed a few fineries in his bag, for the sake of keeping up his appearance, and made a mental short-list of chores before he departed. Leave Lily some instructions, tell his mother he was leaving, and brush up on Trottingham political structure. He rounded the property toward the gardens along the cliff face, toward his private airport, and took a final glance up toward the shimmering blue sky.

A Larger World, pt. 2

“Ease off a’tha throttle, Powder! Rusty, ensure the lifelines be secure. Trottingham, ho!”

The bellowing squack of Captain Gorn was inescapable. Orders flew from his beak like daggers, enforcing his command upon the crew of the Tornado. They worked like a well-oiled machine, at the direction of their gryphon captain, as they made all preparations for their descent upon the city of Trottingham, capital of the annexed territory of the Griffish Isles. A soot-colored unicorn, Powder, yanked the shut-off valve with his teeth to starve the roaring flame of oxygen, hastening their descent. Dock workers below made way for the incoming airship and latched their own tethers to the hull, ending with a satisfying thud as the ship touched down.

A procession had gathered at the port. The group of regular guardponies and a few dignitaries made their ginger approach toward the gangplank of the ship. At their front stood a duo of earth ponies. The shorter one a creamy orange color, with eyes of plain brown and sporting a delicate white dress coat, while the taller pony merely wore a tie and collar combo, exposing his mahogany fur to the chill breeze. The entourage made a slight bow as their awaited guest, Lord Aristo of Coltistrano, followed by Rusty, descended the gangplank and clopped his hooves against the stone port. The mahogany pony cleared his throat and spoke.

“My lord, it is our pleasure to host one so graceful. I am Councilor Bronze Hoof. When your missive arrived, my master made it his mission to ensure a safe and comfortable visit to our humble city. Please, allow me to introduce you.” Bronze Hoof motioned toward the shorter pony. “Lord Aristo, this is the governor of Trottingham, Lord Pish Posh.”

Pish Posh extended a dainty hoof to Silver, a feminine laugh following behind it. Aristo received the gesture and nodded.

“Lord Posh,” he began. “Trottingham is such a lovely view from the air. I can only hope the ground is equally splendid.”

“It most certainly is, Aristo. On that I promise. Come now, we must begin the tour!” With a firm clap of his hooves, Lord Pish Posh led his contingent of guards, Silver and Rusty into the town proper.

Trottingham, from the air, was a collection of brown roofs and white buildings poking up from the cascade of fir trees. On the ground, however, the city was abuzz with merchants and trading. Rows of market stalls to provide whatever foreign goods one could imagine, clean buildings of white accented by dark wood beams and supports, and even large parks flanking the central thoroughfare. Everywhere Silver was led he was made ever more aware of the shared culture of the city, a blend between the clean and eye-catching artistry of Equestria, and the firm, dependable construction of imperial-era Griffonstone. It was much of what he wanted Coltistrano to be, someday.

Beside him, Rusty incessantly sniffed the air. His tail, ears, and nose all pivoted in different directions as he took in his new surroundings, getting the lay of the land. It was a far more amusing sight than the excitable babbling Pish Posh gave about his city. Suddenly, all of Rusty’s wayward limbs shifted toward one direction. He began to run and, with only a moment to announce his inevitable departure, Silver was pulled along with him. The two bounded through the streets, their escorts galloping after them, frantically. Ponies watched with either amusement or horror at the sight of a full-sized diamond dog dragging his earth pony friend away from the central market. The crowds began to shift, Silver noticed, from ponies into gryphons before Rusty came to a screeching halt in front of a slate colored storefront nestled tight between rows of similar, aged shops.

“G&G Sweets…” Silver hummed. “Yeah, I agree, Gilda’s got to be in there.”

“Oh goodness gracious!” Pish Posh hollered after them, with Bronze Hoof and guards in tow. “Are you unharmed, my lord! I feared the brute meant to rip your legs asunder.”

“The brute is my escort and friend,” Silver declared in a firm tone. “It would be unbecoming of a governor to deny him the same respect you show me.”

“Oh! Oh, goodness, forgive me!” Pish Posh stepped to a nervous Rusty and held his paw. “I forget myself, sometimes. Hardly anything exciting happens here and… with Princess Twilight as my witness, sir, I apologize for my candor.”

Rusty gave an anxious smile, tail tucking between his legs, and stuck to Silver’s side. The argent-maned pony led his friend to the door of the shop and pushed open. All tension was swept away by the enticing aroma that permeated the quaint little bakery. It was a heavy scent, thick with maple and hazelnut, and the two could almost taste the air as the kitchen door swung open. A gryphon, fur stained with batter and sugar, stepped up with a huff.

“What do you g-... I-I mean,” she distractedly stammered, wiping the sugar from herself. “Welcome to G&G’s, do you have an order or… yo!”

The jubilant gryphon vaulted over the counter and charged her two visitors. She scooped them into her claws and held tight, laughing as she did, before allowing her friends some much needed room to breathe.

“Jeez, you sure took your time, did the dweeb get you lost, Rusty?” Gilda scratched Rusty’s head, earning a dopey smile. “Hey, rag head.”

“Hey, feather face,” Silver teased. “Loving the digs, and here I thought all the talk of baking was just hot air.”

“Pfft, have some faith, dude. Ooh! I almost forgot. Greta! Hey, Greta, get down here and meet the nerds!”

After a few anxious seconds, a second gryphon crested the stairwell and descended. Her fur was darker than Gilda’s, and sported a green fringe with her white-feathered head. Blue irises locked onto Silver and Rusty, before retracting. She waved a lethargic claw.

“Hey, G said you’d be coming.” Greta’s voice was hardly excited at the prospect of company, but she still held a smile. “You get that final dozen done?”

“It’s been done for an hour,” Gilda replied, with a hint of irritation. “You were supposed to deliver it already.”

“I was upstairs checking the books. Sales haven’t been that great since we got pushed out of Mane St..”

“They won’t get better if our deliveries are stale, Greta! Hop to it-… please.”

Greta huffed and turned to the kitchen door. Before passing Gilda, though, she placed a solitary claw upon her shoulder, which was returned by the other gryphon. Silver and Rusty could only stand and watch the exchange before Gilda returned her attention to them.

“So, you two wanna get a drink? I know a few good boozers in this town, if that’s what you’re into.” A waggle of her brow brought a chuckle out of Silver.

“Maybe later, Gilda, your letter sounded like there was trouble in town. Is everything okay?”

“Gilda not hurt, yes? Rusty chomp whoever hurt birdcat!”

“Guys, guys, I’m fine! Well,” she said, downcast. “We were fine, and I need help, yeah. I… ugh, this story’s easier with a drink.”

She leaned against the polished front counter, reached over, produced a bottle of Sweet Apple Acres Hard Buck whiskey and popped the cork.

“Day drinking, Gilda?” Silver asked, incredulously.

“I ain’t nopony’s role model. Besides, you’ll understand when I’m done.” She let the cool, brown liquid pass through her beak, punctuating the stinging beverage with a satisfied sigh.

“Alright, so here’s the deal. Greta and I made the long trek from Griffonstone to here, Trottingham, to set up this diabetes-bar we call a bakery. Had a nice place on Mane St., lots of customers, real peachy. That is, until we both get a message from the governor, that mophead out there…”

Gilda’s extended claw led Silver and Rusty’s vision out the window toward Lord Pish Posh, who anxiously waited by the front door.

“Saying we have to close up shop and find new digs. “Imminent domain” or whatever. So, after a sternly worded letter from yours truly-”

“She stood outside the governor’s house and squawked for an hour straight,” Greta deadpanned, carrying her lukewarm box of pasties over her wings out the back door.

“Yours truly, we were given an ultimatum. Either find a new store, or find a new city, and here’s the kicker…” Gilda took another swig, the glass clacking against her beak. “We’re not the only ones it’s happened to.”

“Others?” Silver’s hoof found its way to his chin, unaware of Rusty mimicking the action. “Was there any explicit reason? Something that would make you want to find a new building?”

“Nope, just an expensive looking letter and a firm kick in the flank by the town guard.” From behind the counter Gilda produced the letter and passed it to Silver. There was a perceptible heft to it, and the envelope held the governor’s seal but lacked a signature. “We thought we’d just shrug it off, but then it happened to Garm and his sisters, and Gwyndolin from the tannery. All gryphons, too. That’s when we knew something was up.”

“It can’t really be all gryphons, can it?” Silver’s eyes were fixed on the sleek parchment, taking in its every detail.

“It is,” Rusty piped up. “Many gryphons in this part, but many ponies in nice parts. No gryphons, though.”

“How do you even know that?” Silver eyed his canine friend with amazement.

“Nose knows.” Rusty’s meaty paw pointed toward his dark black nose which gave a proud sniff. Silver could only nod in agreement and turned back to GIlda.

“If that’s true, then we’ll have to investigate. I’d hate to think Equestria is being tormented by another elitist in power.”

“Can’t see why not, they seem like your type.”

“Not what I mean, Gilda,” Silver chided.

“Ooh! Rusty help! Rusty want to be hero like you, and bug pony!”

“We’ll get to that, Rusty, but first we need to know what we’re walking into. Let’s head back to Posh and Bronze Hoof, then we’ll decide what to do. If anything happens, Gilda, you know how to reach us.”

Gilda waved a lethargic claw at the two before they turned to exit the bakery. Upon crossing the doorway, Pish Posh jolted at their sudden return and straightened himself. Bronze Hoof did the same, and took a step toward Silver and Rusty.

“My lord, I trust everything is alright? The way your friend carried you off like that, well, we feared there might have been an emergency.”

“Nothing of the sort, Bronze Hoof, Rusty here has a keen nose that sometimes gets the better of him. I am curious, though, about these outer neighborhoods of Trottingham. For an annexed territory, one would suspect them to be dominated by ponies instead of gryphons.”

“Ah, yes, you are a keen one, my lord.” Bronze Hoof urged everypony along the tour once more. “It is a most tragic affair, to be sure. The untimely demise of King Guto caused much disarray within Griffonstone. Many gryphons were forced to either make due with dwindling resources, or seek refuge somewhere else. In the panic, the former governor of the Griffish Isles offered loose trade regulations with Equestria, and before long Trottingham, and the isle itself, came under the Princesses’ rule. Many of the gryphons here are either from that time or descendant from them.”

“Nevertheless,” Pish Posh interrupted. “The gryphons living in Trottingham are as Equestrian as any other citizen, disparity aside.”

“Disparity?” Silver raised an eyebrow to Pish Posh, who trotted obliviously beside him, before turning his gaze to Bronze Hoof. He returned a shrug.

“Now come,” Pish Posh continued, excitedly. “We have a most exquisite suite reserved for you at the Canter Commons Hotel. They boast a fantastic restaurant, and a view you’ll never forget!”

A Larger World, pt. 3

True to Pish Posh’s words, the Canter Commons Hotel was an extravagant establishment. Silver stood at the balcony of his top-floor suite, nursing his satisfied belly with a hoof as he took in the twinkling sky above him. The stars shined unhindered by city lights and cast their gentle glow across the impressive treeline beyond the city. A loud belch rang out behind Silver, breaking his trance, as Rusty flopped onto one of the plush beds and began to curl up.

“Pony food good…” he droned, half asleep.

No chuckle rose from Silver at his friend’s antics. His mind was focused on Gilda’s testimony from earlier, uncomfortable with the idea of persecution in another Equestrian city. It was a buzzing, almost painful emotion that poked at his mind like needles, and threatened to open wounds long-thought closed. Rusty stirred.

“Are you doing hero stuff, now?”

“Not yet, just mulling over the day.”

“‘Mulling’?”

“Thinking hard about it,” Silver clarified, earning a confirmatory grunt from Rusty. “Gilda said gryphons in the city were being targeted and forced out of their businesses. The question, though, is why?”

“Maybe mean ponies. Ponies like old enemies. Like Shield Wall.”

“I hope not. I’d hate to think his evil had reached this far from Canterlot.” Visions of Coltistrano, once run-down and bleek, filled his mind before being shunted away. “There may be something else. Bronze Hoof said the death of King Guto was enough to force the governor at the time to open trade negotiations with Equestria. There’s a lot of bits to be made in a place like this.”

“Bits how?”

“Thick forests, silver mines to the west, an intermediary between Equestria and the eastern continent? Do you know how strategic the Griffish Isles are for trade?”

Rusty’s face began to contort in confusion, looking to Silver as if he were speaking a different language, entirely. Silver sighed.

“I suppose you don’t, huh?”

“Rusty no good with e-co-no-mics, but Rusty smell pony city good before seeing it.” He scooted himself from the bed and stood. “Big shop street nice, pretty, and very bright. Pony stuff. But then we move on and smells only get worse. Could barely smell Gilda over other gryphons. Gilda easy, though, she smell rude.”

Silver mouthed the words to himself, almost in disbelief, before Rusty continued.

“This gryphon city, but no gryphon live at center market. No gryphon live in center at all. Gryphons all live outside, away. Gryphons not usually smell great, but they smell different here. Less rude more, uh… big word for sad. Bug pony tell me once.”

“You can… smell emotions?” Silver asked, earning a firm nod from Rusty, flapping his jowls. “Do you think you could do that on Pish Posh?”

“Tried earlier, never got chance. Could if Rusty was close enough. Ponies smell weird, tingly magic smells mostly. Got to be really close.”

Silver added this to the ever-growing list of revelations he had about his canine friend. With a short laugh, he stripped his tailcoat from his body and reached into his dark saddlebag. He drew pieces of dark clothing from within as Rusty looked on with a grimace, large yellow eyes tracing Silver’s form.

“Back marks look… look better.” He stammered, trying to add a smile with the forced compliment.

“They look terrible, Rusty,” Silver deadpanned, slipping into the black uniform. “But thank you for trying, at least. I will be out doing recon of the city. If there’s any trouble it’ll be good to know who exactly is to blame.”

“Can Rusty come?!”

“I’m sorry, Rusty, recon is delicate work. I’m going to be up on buildings, staying out of sight. Darrox trained me in the ways of stealth and you… well, you’re very large.”

“But… but Rusty want to be hero!”

“And you can be, once I learn more about who we’re fighting. I’ll be back soon.”

Silver patted Rusty’s head, trying to put a smile on his dejected face, before pulling the cloak over his body and leaping from the balcony in a single motion. The ends of the cloak stretched out past his hooves, fluttering in the night breeze as the Ghost glided over the city streets. Lamplight was scarce in Trottingham and guards patrolled the streets with personal lanterns tied to their armor. None noticed the fluttering of fabric as the Ghost perched himself atop the buildings of Mane Street. The late hour seemed cause enough for the working ponies to begin making their way home for the evening, chatting with each other about the visit from Lord Aristo and upcoming projects for the city. True to Gilda’s words, the Ghost could see the stark difference between the two areas of town, as if they were separate cities. He could spy a gryphon family sneering from the top floor of a worn apartment building. The Ghost leapt from his perch and soared toward the window, unseen by the family inside as he landed on the windowsill.

“Evening,” he announced, earning a jolt from the family within.

“Hey, hey! Who are you and what do you want, you masked weirdo?!”

“Back off, dad, look at him. It’s the Ghost!”

The Ghost waved an approving hoof at the young hatchling, who was practically bouncing as he closed the distance.

“I can’t believe it’s you! I heard all about the battle of Manehatten, how you clobbered that crazy pony and saved the entire city! Is it true you can fly? I can fly, but not as good as you, I bet!”

“It’s good to have a fan,” the Ghost said through a deep chuckle. “I’m sorry to cause a stir, everyone, but I heard there was some trouble here in Trottingham. Are you able to share anything?”

“Are you… are you Gilda’s friend?” A gryphon, sitting at the small table piped up, brushing her dark feathers from her face. “I spoke with her about it just a week ago. When she said she had friends, I-I didn’t think she meant you. I’m Gwyndolin, I work… worked at the tannery here.”

“She mentioned you, yes,” the Ghost nodded. “She’s also told me you’ve been forced out of your business. Is that true?”

“Gwynny, I told you not to cause trouble about it!” Hissed the other gryphon, a hulking white and grey mass with owl-like eyes.

“Don’t squawk at me like that! I worked hard for my business, and he seems to be the only pony who gives a guff. Yes, Mr. Ghost, I was forced out of my business, and if I knew by who then I can assure you they would not be long for this world.”

“You must have received a letter, yes? May I see it?”

Gwyndolin leaned toward a cabinet behind her and pulled a paper from between two books. Once it was passed to the Ghost’s gloved hoof he could tell it was identical to the one Gilda received. To his dismay, much like the previous one, the letter bore no signature.

“I thank you for your self-control, madam. Can you think of any reason why this has happened?”

“Dunno, started about six months ago. Not much I can do about it, either, Lord Piss Pot doesn’t come out here all that often. Today was the first time I’ve even seen him in months, with that Aristo fellow.”

“Are you gonna do it, Ghost? Are you gonna fight the evil governor and save the gryphons of Trottingham?!” The hatchling stared up at the Ghost with twinkling eyes, his tiny beak punctuating an enormous smile.

“I’m going to do what I can, buddy. Look after your folks, I’ll go have a chat with our ‘elected officials’.”

With that, the Ghost leaned back and fell into a glide. Beyond the dark brown roofs, the Ghost could see the governor’s house illuminated by lamplight and made his way to it, soaring across the alleyways beneath him. Pushing off one of the houses in a final lunge, his somersaulted over the iron fence and spread his cloak to cover the rest of the distance between him and the slim windowsill he soon clung to. Below he could follow the paths of guards as they patrolled the grounds and shimmied along the sill until he placed himself next to a large window at the house’s front.

“... revenue has increased by another sixteen percent, my lord. A fine goal for the year. And there is still the matter of where to disburse these funds.”

“I very much wanted to divert something into the park services funds. During my rounds, I’ve noticed the upkeep has been somewhat lacking as of late.”

The Ghost peered through the large bay window and spied the two ponies in question, Lord Pish Posh and Bronze Hoof, talking with other ponies. Around them sat stacks of documents, large easels supporting graphs of annual income, and a half eaten platter of snacks which sat between them. Bronze Hoof stood up.

“An excellent decision, my lord, and with that I believe we are fully budgeted for another successful year. Any revisions to the budget address can be submitted-”

“There is still the matter of the outer boroughs and their upkeep,” a pink unicorn piped up, floating her quill in her magic. “Center borough storefronts, Mane Street especially, have been seeing a lot of improvements over the past six months, but most of Trottingham’s population is with the gryphon community, outside of the city center.”

“The gryphons have a much different culture, as Bronze Hoof informs me,” Pish Posh said. “The last thing I wish to do is impose changes upon their areas of the city they do not want. I’ve charged Bronze Hoof with arranging an official inquiry so we may know how best to proceed.”

“That’s all well and good, my lord,” the pink unicorn continued. “But that doesn’t help solve complaints of dilapi-”

“Our governor is merely doing what he thinks is best,” Bronze Hoof interrupted. “As I was about to say, if there are any suggestions about budget revisions, they may be submitted to my assistant on the morrow. Now, it is late, and I do recommend we all get some sleep. Good night.”

The members of the assembly were hardly given time to react before a pair of guards came through the doors and ushered them from the office. Bronze Hoof gave a glance to Pish Posh, nodded, and made his way out of the office behind them. Pish Posh remained at his desk, scratching away at parchment with his ornate and comically oversized quill, gleefully jotting notes from his meeting while the Ghost looked on. His gloved hoof gently touched the glass as a peculiar fog began to form beneath it. The Ghost froze and cautiously shifted his eyes downward towards its source.

“Ooh, we spy on pony now? Rusty have good ears, too.”

There, claws dug firmly into the windowsill and dangling precariously against the mansion exterior, was Rusty. The Ghost could feel his breath hitch in his throat and fought to contain his scream.

“What are you doing here?” The Ghost hissed through his teeth.

“Ponies not good climbers. Rusty thought you need help.”

“I can climb just fine,” he snapped as quietly as possible. “I told you I was running recon. The governor is right there!”

With a huff Rusty pulled himself up, peeking his eyes over the lip of the windowsill to meet the back of Pish Posh’s polished leather seat. His nose twitched.

“You want Rusty to sniff gov-”

“No I don’t want you to sniff! How did you even get in here?”

“Rusty dig hole. Diamond dogs good diggers.”

“I-I… ugh, okay. You’re here now, so please, stay up here and play lookout.”

The Ghost didn’t even wait for an answer before gently pushing the window open. Time with Darrox had given him insightful powers of infiltration, enough to slip into the office without Pish Posh even raising his head from his work. Around him, the Ghost flicked his cloak to snag the flames from candles, one by one, until the room was pitch black. Pish Posh threw back his head at the first swipe of black fabric and could scarcely follow the others. He panically fumbled with the drawer in his desk, only to have it shoved closed by a black hoof, which Pish Posh followed back to the dark, fluttering mass it came from.

“Evening, governor.”

Pish Posh melted into a puddle of babbling and half-spoken words. His chair was the one thing keeping him from retreating at the frantic pace his hooves now flailed with. The Ghost leaned closer, dark tendrils working their way from the legs of the chair and toward its occupant.

“”I-I know of you,” Pish Posh stammered. “But w-why have you… have you c-come here? I‘ve done nothing wrong!”

“They all say that.” The Ghost dropped the letter onto Pish Posh’s lap. “For the past six months, your office has been forcing gryphon citizens from their homes and businesses in the central borough. It’s marked by your seal.”

“Th-this is impossible,” he stuttered while he scanned the letter with trembling hooves. “I’ve been doing what I can to reach out to the gryphon community. They always refuse me. Are they unhappy? Did I do something wrong?!”

“You have neglected them! You funnel bits into pet projects for the rich districts, allowing the poor to wither. With armed escort, you’ve had these letters delivered, and you lacked even the spine to sign them yourself.”

“B-but I’ve never even seen this letter before!”

“Who else, then, could bear your seal and exercise such authority?!”

“I could.”

The Ghost snapped his head up toward the source of the offending interjection. Bronze Hoof stood in the illuminated doorway, smirking, before stepping into the office.

“I had wondered when you would arrive. Truly, the stories of your vigilance may just be that. What matters, though, is you have come.”

The Ghost felt a tug at his cape, leading out the window and to Rusty’s paw. They could all hear the shouting of ponies and clacking of armor on the bottom level, and the Ghost watched the two guards from before return to the room, weapons in hoof.

“Bronze Hoof, the councilor. If it wasn’t Pish Posh, then it had to be you.”

“Of course,” he chuckled. “I’ve worked very hard to arrange this little meeting between us.”

“Your surrender would have been easier.”

“It would have, yes, but detrimental to my plans. You cost us much embarrassment in Manehatten, Ghost, even more so in Canterlot. The Vice General would be pleased to know you fell for the bait.”

The Ghost clenched his teeth and the very mention of his enemy. Pish Posh, however, exchanged his glance from side to side, caught up in the tension between the two parties before him.

“You’re part of his conspiracy,” the Ghost seethed.

“I was, until Fancy Pants allowed everything to be undone. But even so, I never lost faith in the Vice General.” Bronze Hoof touched his heart and spoke aloud, a certain bravado in his voice. “It has taken much time and effort to create the sort of desperation you predictably seek out. Once word of disparity between the gryphons and ponies of Trottingham reached your treacherous ears, I knew you’d come running to stop it.”

“A trap, then?”

“Indeed, and now that you are within my grasp…”

As Bronze Hoof gave his sinister sermon, the fibers of the cloak tensed and began to drag the dangling diamond dog up through the window. The burly frame of Rusty curled into a ball and carefully rolled into the office and behind the billowing cover the cloak provided. He and the Ghost nodded to each other, wordlessly preparing as Rusty crawled to the corner of the desk, crouched low and ready to pounce.

“... A glorious Equestria, free of the decrepit rule of the Two Sisters. Shield Wall will be so pleased to know I have slain you, and with your cloak as tribute, his mastery of ponykind can resume!”

“A fine speech,” the Ghost mocked, lightly clapping his gloved hooves. “But I think Shield Wall would sooner kill you for monologuing.”

“How dare you! Your pride is insulting, Ghost, especially for one with no way out,” Bronze Hoof declared with a grin, earning a sigh from the Ghost as the two guards tensed their weapons.

“Rusty, schnell.”

With the clap of powerful paws against the desk, the massive diamond dog popped out from his cover and tackled the two guards, wrestling them both through the door. Bronze Hoof screamed and hit the floor, hooves over his head. Vicious barking could be heard as the Ghost glided toward the cowering councilor. A firm kick to the side sent Bronze Hoof sliding against the wall, the Ghost standing above him.

“When you said you were part of Shield Wall’s conspiracy, I didn’t think you meant ‘the weakest link’.”

“Don’t insult me, Ghost, I still have you trap-”

The Ghost lifted Bronze Hoof to eye-level and sent a hoof to his face, spinning him around. He stabilized before taking a fighting stance.

“Why, Bronze? Why target innocents to win a fight you’ve already lost?”

“Because we haven’t lost! There are still cards we have yet to play, powerful forces you couldn’t begin to guess. Did you truly think Shield Wall, in his brilliance, was without contingencies?”

A quick swipe of his hind leg spun Bronze around, lining his rear hooves up with the Ghost and unleashing a mighty buck. The Ghost coiled the cloak around himself just in time to absorb the impact. From within the black mass a single tendril shot out and lashed Bronze’s muzzle.

“I want answers, councilor! If your intention was to kill me tonight, then you’ll need more than half-baked schemes and empty threats!”

“Your death is only the beginning, Ghost. With you out of the way, nothing will stop me from finding them all and bringing the Vice General back into power. Guards, to me!”

The two continued their exchange of hooves. Bronze Hoof jabbed and swung with practiced form, but those precious few strikes that connected lacked any power to hurt his cloaked enemy. The Ghost, however, landed a thundering blow to Bronze Hoof’s now-bloody jaw, just before the clattering of metal armor made its way upstairs and into the office. Guards brandished spears and magic, wildly lashing out against the cloaked intruder, but the Ghost was soon above them in a display of agility and landed within the crowd.

Two spears lunged toward the Ghost and were deflected by covered forelegs, harmlessly sending them against the armor of two other guards behind him. A snap from the cloak cut one guard across the brow, and a flurry of these strikes came down onto the others with lightning speed. Armor straps were cut, allowing the Ghost easy access to land powerfuls strikes on whoever came next. A unicorn beside him let out a small burst of fireworks, the sparks singing the Ghosts exposed muzzle, but barely slowed him down before the unicorn was flung across the room. The final guard stood shakily, eyes glued to the groaning forms of his comrades, before dropping his weapon and rushing down the stairs.

“That was fantastic!” Pish Posh shot his hooves into the air, cheering as the adrenaline threatened to pour out from his ears. “I have never seen a more incredible display in my life. Sweet Celestia, I’d become a crime lord, too, if it meant having a show like that! By the Sun… where’s Bronze Hoof?”

The Ghost followed the droplets of blood to the window, where he watched Bronze Hoof climb down the walls and begin galloping through the courtyard. The Ghost lept from the window, spreading his cloak and closing in on his prey. Bronze hoof could only take a quick peek behind him, forcing his legs to carry him faster than ever before. The iron gate came closer and closer with each step, but Bronze Hoof could feel a rumbling beneath him, and his path was soon blocked by an explosion of dirt and a large, canine fist rocketing straight for his chin. The strike launched Bronze Hoof into the air and flat onto his back.

The Ghost landed nimbly on his hooves and stood, dumbfounded, by the scene before him. Rusty had climbed out of his hole, shaking the dirt from his coat, and walked over to the fallen Bronze Hoof, who laid unconscious on the otherwise clean grass of the courtyard.

“Rusty do good, huh? Rusty stop bad pony?”

The Ghost could only laugh at the sight. He swung a hoof over Rusty’s shoulders and patted his head.

“Yeah, Rusty, you did great. Remind me never to try outrunning you.”

“Ghost pony could try, but won’t make it. Diamond dogs really good diggers.”

A Larger World, pt. 4

“Oooh, you look so adorable!” Honey giggled as she straightened the bow tie she had been playing with for the past hour. “So much better than that rickety ship, don’t you think?”

Rusty stood before her with a goofy smile. He was patient in enduring all the terribly kind things Honey Hearts had in store, from freshly washed fur to new clothes. True to her word, the violet bow tie around his neck was signed with a cursive ‘R’ behind the knot.

“Perfect! Oh, Silver will hate me for doing this but you deserve it, Rusty. Now, would you please take this tray to him? He’s out in the garden.”

Rusty took the tray from Honey and turned out the bay doors leading to the garden. He could see Silver and Gilda sitting at a white table, overlooking the cliff face. The two shared little more than choice words and firm looks, their eyes dancing across the large and hefty scroll spread across the table. The paper was aged, torn in some areas, and covered in what looked like ancient markings and illustrations attached to the main body of the scroll. Silver dragged the tip of his hoof along the arcane etchings of the parchment.

“So it’s a map?”

“It’s not a map, Gilda, it’s a list. A blueprint, more like. Bronze Hoof had it in his office when Pish Posh allowed me to search it.”

“You’re saying it points to ancient evil treasures, though?”

“Possibly, but he might not have even known where they are. There are clues, though.”

“Then it’s a map.”

“Bubble drink?”

Silver and Gilda looked up to the smug grin of Rusty, leaning over and presenting the tray to them. Gilda’s feathers began to puff out as she slapped a claw to her beak, failing to keep the laughter in. Silver couldn’t help but chuckle before taking a glass from the tray.

“Thank you, Rusty. I see mom finally dolled you up.”

“You look like such a nerd, Rusty!” Gilda’s coarse laughter reached a peak, but Rusty merely turned up his grinning snout at the snickering gryphon, straightening his vibrant bow tie with meaty paws. Silver, however, remained lost in thought.

“Any luck with magic paper?”

“Not yet, Rusty,” Silver muttered before taking a sip. “Half of it is written in Old Equish, but Bronze Hoof left some notation in the margins. He wasn’t kidding when he said ‘powerful forces’.”

“What, like, the Elements of Harmony?” Gilda quipped, finally recovered from her fit.

“I hope not, but Shield Wall did try to tame a wendigo once, so the idea isn’t off the table.” Gilda and Rusty shared a surprised look before he continued. “Bronze Hoof seems to have been working on digging up clues to relics and artifacts. He probably planned to weaponize them.”

“If he was really that crazy, then why did he pull a ‘stupid’ and get you involved?”

“Because my cloak is on this list.”

Gilda and Rusty leaned their heads over the parchment, following Silver’s hoof toward a sketch of the cloak, stretched out and littered with annotations from Bronze Hoof. Silver brought his hoof to his chin and stroked.

“He calls it ‘The Cloak of Eight’, no doubt a reference to the spiders who wove the cloak for Darrox. I shudder to think of what he would do with it if he actually killed me.”

“There are some nasty things on this list, dude. Like, I’m no expert, but I’m pretty sure that’s King Sombra’s horn right there.”

“Rusty no like this,” Rusty shuddered. “What will bad ponies do if they find the evil things?”

“Nothing,” Silver declared, standing from his chair. “Because I’m going to find them first.”

“Why bother? The kook’s in chains and you have the map-thing.”

“If somepony as inept as Bronze Hoof can find this much with nothing but ill intentions then somepony else can, too. I won’t leave threats to Equestria out in the open.”

“So, what, are you just gonna keep all the magic-y toys in your secret, dorky colt-cave?”

“... Yes, Gilda,” Silver sighed, glaring at Gilda’s growing smirk. “That’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

Chortling arose from both Silver’s friends, threatening to bring a smile out of him, too. Instead, Silver took a step toward Rusty and held his broad shoulders. The diamond dog’s chuckle fizzled out, replaced by concern for the firm expression of his friend and employer.

“Rusty,” Silver began. “I’m stepping out into a larger world, beyond Coltistrano and the plots of mad ponies. Because of that, I’m entrusting my city, my home, to the only other hero she has. You.”

Rusty’s eyes bulged, his jaw dropping lower with each word Silver spoke. His paws began fumbling over each other.

“You have the gall to take risks and the heart to take them for the right reasons. I might not have made it out of Trottingham had you not followed me. Because of that, I’m trusting you to take care of Coltistrano when I’m away. You’ll have the committees and the guard to help you, if you need it. Can I trust you to do this?”

Rusty said nothing, letting out a whimper as he vigorously nodded before squeezing Silver in a mighty hug.

“Rusty not let you down. Rusty vow to protect Coltistrano, Mama Hearts, and all creatures.”

With that, Rusty ran off, a spring in his step. Silver chuckled and turned his attention to a now-stunned looking Gilda.

“You’re serious?”

“Rusty was a great help in Trottingham. He cares, shows good critical thinking, and can take direction. He also digs well, and trust me that helps.”

“I hope you don’t expect me to run patrols with your weather team or something.”

“Would you? I could use your help on this.”

“I…” Gilda choked on her voice, a few feathers coming out of place. “I can’t. Greta and I… it’s not perfect, Silver, but it’s ours. After all the aimless wandering and living alone, having someone to be with you everyday is nice. You’re not mad, are you?”

“Of course not,” Silver said with a smile. “Nopony more than me understands how valuable companionship is.”

“Thanks… that means a lot. Really.”

Silver returned to his seat and stretched his hoof across the table, meeting Gilda’s claw. Her feathers ruffled even more at the errant contact and she pulled away quickly.

“B-But if there’s another ‘end-of-Equestria’ moment, you better call me! You’re not getting all the action.”

With that, Gilda shot a final smile before straightening herself out and standing from her seat. With a beat of her wings she rose from the courtyard and took to the air, soaring over the cliff below and off into the eastern sky. Silver, now alone, sat tapping the parchment spread across the table. For several minutes he sat there. His mind wandered to thoughts of the island he once called home, to heartfelt sunsets along the horizon and endless training. His mind clung to Darrox.
A tightness formed in Silver’s chest. His eyes, though they cast their gaze into the nothing before him, scanned the flood of memories pouring into him. Of Shield Wall and his villainy, of all he had lost to the mad unicorn, and all he gave to overcome him.

“I wish you were here, old friend. You always knew what to do. I wish you could tell me if I’m making the right call, leaving my city and going on this mission. You spoke so much of fate and how much it controls us, and the prices paid for changing it. I just… I’ve paid so much already.”

Silver reached beneath his coat and pulled the dark fabric of the cloak to his hoof. He gazed into its abyssal surface, finding his calm in the swirling blackness.

“But I told you, on the mountain, I won’t hold on any longer. I’ll find these evils and make sure no one uses them to harm others as Bronze Hoof would have. That I promise.”

Silver stood from his seat and returned the cloak to its hiding spot. Reaching over, he rolled up the parchment and held it close to his chest. He took a deep breath and sighed a long, content sigh as he gazed out over the cliffside, smiling.

“Now, what am I going to tell mom?”

Matter of the Heart, pt. 2

“Never in my life have I been yelled at by a book… and his friends.”

The Ghost stepped out from behind a towering shelf of books that had been wrapped in chains and shook as he passed. Muffled screams followed him, but evaporated the farther away he walked, returning to Rarity’s side as she scanned the floor with her magic.

“I tried asking the books if they saw anything, but they don’t have much ‘shelf awareness’,” he said, hoping to draw a laugh from the otherwise frustrated Rarity. “How’s the search on your end?”

“Fruitless,” Rarity huffed. “It’s almost as if the heart just walked out of here on its own.”

“Perhaps what we need is a new vantage,” the Ghost said. Rarity began to turn her head, but was soon wrapped in his foreleg, the other gripping his cloak and snapping it out to send the dark tendril of cloth upwards. With a heave and a yelp from Rarity, the two were launched from the ground and onto one of the shelves above. The Ghost nimbly landed on the narrow structure, holding tight to Rarity’s hoof to keep her balanced.

“Darling, please! Warn me next time.”

Her shock was soon replaced with surprise as she looked over the reliquary from on high. Each individual shelf, table, and pathway was aligned in a way that stood out to Rarity. A symbol, symmetrical and reaching all corners of the room, was made from the floor of the reliquary.

“Told you,” the Ghost said with a smirk. He received a gentle push from Rarity’s hoof against his face, before joining her in scanning the new perspective before them.

“It’s a shape, a sort of hieroglyph made from the room itself.” Rarity touched her lips with a hoof. “How deliberate.”

“My guess is it’s a security system,” the Ghost stated. “With the amount of wild magic pouring through this place, I’d be surprised if Princess Luna didn’t have a fail safe in case something got loose. A magical ideogram of this size could warp everything here to the moon, if she wanted.”

“I agree, but this only makes it more improbable anypony could’ve entered undetected, let alone set to Celestia-knows-where.”

The Ghost squinted through his mask and scanned the towering peaks of the other cabinets and containers. The dim light of the reliquary just barely breached the height of their perch, appearing as little more than a soft glow from the magical lights below, but his trained eyes still searched with an uncanny focus.

“There!” The Ghost’s announcement was emphasized by his hoof, pointing off into a dark patch Rarity herself could barely see. With the force of his powerful legs he leapt from their perch and spread his cloak to glide toward his imperceptible target. He landed, noiselessly, and crouched.

“What do you see, darling?”

Below him, shimmering in the pale light, was a small puddle atop the shelves. The Ghost dipped his gloved hoof into the strange substance. It clung to him, and itself, before the lingering strand broke as the Ghost raised his hoof to examine. Under his scrutiny he found nothing notable about the substance. Its texture was thick and did not roll down his glove as he expected, and no scent came to his nostrils as he wafted towards himself. It was colorless, odorless, and the Ghost was willing to bet tasteless, as well. Yet, it struck him as familiar.

“There’s a substance here, some sort of ichor.” The Ghost leaned over the edge and spotted the heart’s pedestal. “Somepony may have been up here. The heart would’ve been just below.”

“Strange to think a thief would need to hide up here,” Rarity commented. “Any idea what it could be?”

“Perhaps a residue or potion… or bile.”

Rarity felt the urge to wretch at her friend’s suggestion. Her eyes shut as she shivered, before forcing a deep inhale to calm herself. There was a swish in the air, and when she opened her eyes the Ghost stood beside her once again.

“How ghastly,” she groaned. “I-I trust you don’t plan to tamper with that filth any further?”

“No, I’m not sure how much use it has… unless you want to smell it, too?”

Rarity quickly struck the Ghost’s muck-laden hoof as it approached. He laughed in response to the loud slap of her retaliation, lending his clean hoof to her. She took it, begrudgingly, and the two floated from the ceiling and down to the ground once more. She shot him an annoyed look.

“You’re a foal.”

“Fun, imaginative, and full of hope for the future?”

“Full of something, that’s for sure.”

The Ghost rubbed her shoulder and chuckled as he returned to the blackened pedestal, unaware of the soft smile that now crept across her face as her eyes followed him. Her vision, however, was caught by the form of something large off in the distance, behind the pedestal and looming in the dim light. Rarity took cautious steps forward. As she approached the shape took on the form of a large wooden chest, wrapped in the same chains many of the reliquary’s cabinets were. The dark wood was old, worn, and Rarity could spy jagged pieces of metal jutting out from where the chest’s lock would be. In the moment her hoof reached to touch it, the wood and metal rattled and shook violently, filling her with panic as she leapt back. The Ghost sprinted around the corner, drawn by the commotion.

“Rarity! Are you okay?” The Ghost caught the retreating unicorn in his hooves and wrapped them both in his protective cloak. “What is that thing?”

“Is there anything in this cursed room that’s not evil!” Rarity’s heart threatened to burst from her chest in fright, but instead her eyes strayed downward. Even in the dimness of the reliquary, she could still see a small abrasion on the floor, which stood out from the rest of the otherwise clean surface. Her attention was broken by the deep creak of the massive doors, once again giving both ponies another jolt of surprise.

“Dear investigators, your princess hath returned. Verily, our cohorts shall help to unravel this riddle, post haste. Hath these cursed wares revealed any clues to-” Luna’s eyes fixed on the shocked expressions of Rarity and the Ghost, wrapped in the dark cloth of the cloak. “O-Oh, many pardons. Doth thou require privacy?”

There was a pause. The Ghost locked eyes with Rarity and the two hurriedly clambered away from each other before straightening themselves. The Ghost cleared his throat.

“Princess, I take it these are the guards?”

Luna nodded and stretched a foreleg toward a quartet of guards, clad in darkened indigo armor and adorned with the motif of bat wings. They stood firm, yellow eyes focused before them. The Ghost recalled tales of Princess Luna’s fabled Night Guard from his days as a soldier, and these ponies before him embodied every terrifying aspect. He approached the row of attentive guards and scanned their persons. From the corner of his eye, though, he noticed Luna’s wing ruffle against her body. Rarity’s voice broke him from his analysis as she spoke.

“Brave guards, thank you for joining us.” Her words earned a sharp salute. “My companion and I have some questions regarding the recent break-in here at the reliquary. I trust you will all be forthcoming?”

“Yes, ma’am,” they declared in unison.

“Which of you was on guard last night, when the object in question was stolen?”

“I was,” one of the guards announced and stepped forward.

“Could you describe the evening shift for us, please?”

“Yes ma’am.” The guard took a breath. “At twenty-one-hundred hours the guard change occurred, and at twenty-one-oh-two I stood at the door to the reliquary. The shift was uneventful until approximately twenty-three-thirty-one. I heard rustling and clanging metal inside the chamber. By the time the doors opened and I had entered, spear at the ready, the sounds had stopped and the princess’ treasure was gone. I reported the incident to my captain at twenty-three-thirty-five.”

Rarity committed the answer to memory, silently impressed with the guard’s succinct response. She turned toward Princess Luna.

“Princess, could you tell us where you were when the captain alerted you?”

“Tending to the dream realm. Much to our disappointment, even the nightmares of our subjects must wait in the face of this threat.”

“After your breakfast with Princess Celestia, correct?”

Luna’s mouth opened to respond, yet hung at Rarity’s question. Rarity stepped forward, unaware of the guards’ collective gaze honing in on her. The Ghost consumed their vision as his flowing mass guarded Rarity from them. Once more, Rarity spoke.

“You informed me earlier your missive arrived this morning. Did I mishear you?”

“You must have,” Luna finally responded. “Though there was discussion with dear sister, I most assuredly-”

“‘I’?”

Her wing fluttered again as a heat rose through Luna’s body, radiating from the tips of her ears and threatening to set her mane alight. The Ghost closed the distance between himself and Rarity. She, too, pressed herself to her cloaked companion as the four guards broke formation and moved to surround them.

“I knew I recognized that ichor we found,” the Ghost whispered, gripping his cloak.

“I’m scared to ask, dear, but do you suspect what I suspect?”

“I do.”

The persistent dimness of the room was broken by five brilliant pillars of sickening green flame. The visage of Princess Luna and her stalwart guards melted away in the fire, slowly replaced by the jet black surface of their captors’ organic armor. A subtle hiss hung in the air as the circle of ill intent began to close. One, larger than the others, sported a single iridescent streak across its face, separated by pale green eyes that pierced the darkness and locked onto its prey.

“Changelings.”

Matter of the Heart, pt. 3

The Ghost and Rarity found themselves surrounded. The encroaching tide of their enemy hissed and snarled, dripping a familiar clear bile from their mandibles. Pale eyes glowed a haunting green as the duo searched for a means of escape. The larger one hung back, keeping a hoof close to one wing, but sent a chilling hiss toward their soon-to-be victims.

“Rarity,” the Ghost said, placing a hoof around her waist. “This is your warning.”

The Ghost heaved him and Rarity in a circle, sending the edge of his cloak hurtling towards his enemies as a shadowy flail. It landed with a crunch, before retracting and shooting out once more to the shelves above. No scream came from Rarity as they ascended, instead electing to fire thin, brilliant bolts of arcane power from her horn as cover. The buzzing of insectoid wings followed close behind.

The duo landed and unleashed their flurry of strikes and blasts. The changelings broke off, two for two, and engaged at high speeds. Rarity found herself flanked and pushed back against aggressive strikes, before summoning a diamond platform to sidestep one changeling, blocking the other, and firing off more blasts from her illuminated horn.

The Ghost had not been so lucky, as his changeling aggressors wailed on him with armored strikes. His speed, though, allowed him to catch a limb between his forelegs and swing one changeling into the other, sending it hurdling off the edge of the bookcase. The other swiped and gnashed at the swift and shadowy pony before receiving a hoof to the mandible and collapsing in its back.

“Ghost!” Rarity stretched out a hoof as her cry reached him.

He somersaulted over the now recovering changeling and slammed his rear hoof into his back, the impromptu footing allowing the Ghost to ensnare Rarity’s foreleg in his cloak. She leapt from the bookcases and swung through the narrow passage between before being lifted to the Ghost. As the final two changelings lunged for their prey, the Ghost released the black bolts of cloth and caught them both. With a grunt he swung his enemy around and released them before Rarity’s charged horn as it’s glow engulfed them both in a smoldering ray of light. They stood, panting, as a green glow built beneath them

The black cloak whipped in front of Rarity just in time to deflect a bolt of green power from below. The Ghost peered over the fabric to see the marked changeling, horn glowing, holding something in her hoof. Rarity looked as well and gasped.

“Is that…”

“I think it is,” the Ghost whispered. He pulled Rarity to him and glided down from the towering cabinet.

As the two landed, their eyes locked onto a vortex of starry magic in the changeling’s hoof. Its power seemed to reach out to them and chill their very bones with its influence. Finally, the changeling spoke.

“Forgive me. I’m out of practice,” she said in a feminine chitter.

“Forgiven,” the Ghost replied. “We might’ve remained fooled had it not been for your slip.”

“A regrettable outcome, but at least now I can deal with you personally.” The changeling took a lowered stance, green magic swirling along her twisted horn. “Then, all of Canterlot will pay for my brother’s death.”

“Brother?” The Ghost’s eyes fixated upon the shimmering mark spanning the changeling’s face. It glowed and swirled with color, in a way that seemed to tug at his very heart strings. He lowered the cloak and stood to his full height. “Alate?”

“How do you know that name?!” She hissed. “None outside the hive know of us, our mission was secret. Not even your night princess knew of us until it was too late.”

“Because I knew your brother, Darrox told me about you before he died.”

“Do not speak his name!” Her words announced the release of the swirling power, arcing across the ground and lurching up toward the duo. Rarity’s summoned shield reduced the spell to emerald embers before she turned to the Ghost.

“I’m not sure she’s listening, darling,” she quivered.

“Alate, Darrox saved my life. He pulled me from the ocean his murderer dumped me in.”

“And as thanks you wear the mantle, his mantle, as if you were the very legend he built himself!”

“I wear it because he gave it to me. He trained me to be the Ghost, I didn’t steal it!”

“No!” A verdant shock wave burst forth, jostling the precarious relics and knocking her foes to the ground.

“Darrox wanted nothing more than to help ponies. To save them! We never knew why, he just went on and on about the ‘beauty’ he found in your kind.” Her last words dripped with venom as she stomped forward. “But it was your kind that used him. Idolized him like one of your cheap celebrities, forgot about him when he disappeared, and what does your kind do when he returns? You kill him!”

“I would have gladly traded places with him. I begged to! Darrox was my mentor, almost like my own father.” The Ghost stood, standing between Rarity and the fuming changeling. “He gave his life defending innocent ponies from the twisted plots of a maniac. Darrox died a hero, and I wear this to honor him.”

“Why would you care? Why would anyone of your kind care about a changeling?!”

“Because Darrox taught me there are no ‘kinds’, Alate, only the actions of an individual.” His voice calmed, urging the magical tempest pouring from Alate’s horn to wither. “Darrox was a champion of reason and fairness. He could’ve left me in the ocean to drown, or on the beach to die. He could’ve never come back at all, but he did. Darrox gave everyone he met a chance, and he taught me to do the same.”

The firestorm in Alate’s heart ceased. All around them, the putrid green glow of her magic dimmed into nothingness as she dipped her head toward the floor. Rarity stood and approached the scene, placing a cautious hoof on the Ghost’s shoulder.

“You really did know him, didn’t you?” Alate’s words were soft. “Even at the end?”

“I did,” the Ghost replied, kneeling. “He was the greatest person I will ever know. I wish you had the chance to see him again.”

“So do I,” Alate nearly whispered, the heart in her hoof swirling faster. “I spent years searching for him, only to find a pile of ash. This city took him from me when he returned, like it did the Labrum and Tarsi when the queen attacked. This city is a blight upon my family, and student or not you will all pay for our pain!”

In an instant Alate thrust the heart forward. The spectral substance bloomed like a flower, reaching it’s wispy tendrils out in a vortex of chilling power. Rarity erected a shield but stood beholden to the swirling infinity before her. Her power waned, and the Ghost desperately wrapped them both in his cloak as the heart’s reach grew to encompass their vision. Its magic pulsed, soft and deliberate, as the two were lulled into a cold, trembling sleep.

--

Rarity’s head snapped up just in time to dodge the carriage rocketing across her path. A gasp escaped her lips, robbing her of the power to shout obscenities at the carelessness of her would-be attacker. Instead, she elected to hurl daggers from her eyes at the dwindling sight of the carriage before continuing on her way with a dainty huff, down the street and toward a familiar storefront.

All around her, though, she found the eyes of passersby following her, speaking in hushed and excited tones. She quickened her pace as a crowd began to form. More and more ponies made their way from store fronts and carriages toward her, their muttering swelling to a dull roar.

“Miss Rarity, is it really you?” One pony called out.

“My stars. Everypony, look, it’s Rarity!” Another cried, attracting more to the massive crowd.

“We love you, Rarity!”

“You’re the pinnacle of style!”

“Y-Yes, thank you,” Rarity stammered, pressing her flank against a nearby shop window. A tapping sound grew behind her, and when Rarity turned to meet it she found even more ponies pressed to the glass, eyes of adoration glued to her every step.

“Please, you’re all very kind, but-”

“I want your autograph!”

“No, me! I want your autograph!”

The rabid wave of admirers closed in around her. Her heart pounded, sweat dripping from her brow as the onslaught of obsession consumed her dwindling space. Trembling hooves tapped and turned along the sidewalk, desperate for an exit, but none could be found. Pegasi descended from above, trapping her in a suffocating dome.

“P-Please, I don’t-”

Familiar shapes emerged from the crowd, as starstruck as the other ponies, and covered the remaining ground between them and Rarity.

“Oh my,” the yellow one hummed. “Your designs are so lovely. Are they just for ponies?”

“Oh! Oh! What about party ponies?”

“Back off,” one pegasus, sporting a rainbow mane, shouted. “M-Miss Rarity, you don’t know me, but I… aaaaahhhh! This is so embarrassing, I just love you so much!”

“No, no please, Rainbow,” Rarity pleaded. “You know me. We’re friends.”

“Oh my gosh. Ohmygoshohmygoshohmygosh! Did you hear that? I’m friends with Rarity!”

The mob shifted from excitable to wrathful in an instant. Each pony began climbing over each other, beating back the others in an all out brawl for Rarity’s affection. In the middle of the chaos she crumpled into a ball. Tears dripped onto the sidewalk below as the piercing sting of fear dug into her.

“Silver,” she whimpered. “Silver, where are you?”

Wetness touched the underside of her chin, but Rarity found no tears when she moved to wipe them away. Instead, she spied liquid seeping through the cracks of the sidewalk, the droplets falling upward. Bringing her face downward she heard, among the shouting dome around her, a faint gurgling from beyond the stone.

She steeled herself and reared up. Her pristine hooves struck the sidewalk with a loud thud, the cracks spreading under her might. Again and again she struck, every blow drawing more and more water from the sidewalk as it pooled around her hooves. With a wild scream she threw herself into her final blow and shattered the stone open. Water, salty and frigid, consumed her and the vicious crowd as the horrid nightmare washed away, leaving her in a void.

Rarity strained her eyes against the freezing embrace of the water. From beyond, a lone beam of gentle light pierced the abyss around her, and within she could spy a shape. Rarity swam toward it, flailing her limbs with as much strength as she could muster. Each stroke brought a burning sensation to her chest but carried her closer to the drifting form of Silver. There he was suspended, his eyes fixated on the light while a sinister black tendril coiled around his legs. He pumped his forelegs and floated up while the mass below pulled him deeper into the void below.

He screamed. No noise came from the earth pony, none that Rarity could hear, but she saw the dancing lights take shape. They shifted into figures she recognized, ponies from their adventure together. She could make out Darrox, Abundant Glow, Honey Hearts, Shining Armor, and herself. At each image Silver writhed, desperately clawing at the water to carry him higher. Once again the tendrils resisted, and he was pulled deeper towards their source.

Rarity could take no more of the torturous display. She swam toward the suspended pony and reached out for him, dodging errant tendrils that lashed at her from the depths, before placing her hooves on either side of his face. Slowly, his gaze drifted to her and the soft smile she wore. The terror in his face was washed away in her presence and his once-flailing hooves slowly drew themselves around her form. The mass of darkness was unable to stop their embrace and retreated from the sight. The light above grew brighter, drawing the duo up from the cold water and to the surface.

--

Rarity gasped sharply and writhed in her place on the floor, coughing violently to expel the imagined sea water from her burning lungs. When her fit was over she wearily rose on her front hooves to face the Ghost. She crawled overtop his motionless form.

“Silver,” she coughed out. “Silver, darling, wake up. Please, wake up!”

She shook and struck the Ghost’s body to no avail. Rarity desperately began a round of compressions to his chest, sharing her air with him in a frantic attempt to save her friend.

“Wake up,” she pleaded, granting another kiss of life to the stallion. “Please, darling! Don’t make me do this alone, I need you.”

Her cry brought the Ghost sputtering back to life. His forceful cough echoed throughout the reliquary as his legs struggled against gravity to stand. Rarity’s tears burst from her eyes and sobbed into his shoulder, planting kisses wherever she could to remind herself he was alive. Their weary forms fell into each other.

“Ra… Rarity,” he muttered, shivering at the memory of the chilled ocean. “Are y-you okay? If you’re h-h-hurt…”

Rarity cradled his head, giving him the only answer he needed. Together, they supported each other before standing from the floor. The Ghost scanned the room and was met with the staggered expression cast across Alate’s face.

“You two… i-it was just a second, it shouldn’t have done... but he…” The heart rolled from her hoof and across the room as she collapsed to the floor. “I didn’t think he would die.”

“Alate,” the Ghost wheezed, leaning on Rarity. “Please understand what you’re doing. This thing is evil. Darrox, out of everyone, wouldn’t want ponies killed in his name, not by his own sister.”

“B-But he... he was murdered. I have to avenge him. Don’t you understand, I’m the one who let him go!”

“We know, but you aren’t the only one his death affected,” Rarity said with soft words. “Your brother was a true gentlecolt, and possessed a kind soul. My only regret is having never known him as well as I wanted to.”

“We cherish him, Alate, and it broke me when he died.” Silver fell to his knees, taking the changeling’s hooves in his own. “But when I was in your place, angry and hurt, your brother showed me how to rise above the cycle of violence and be something better. To be... almost as good as he was.”

Thin streams of tears fell from Alate’s eyes. The iridescent mark across her face spread, only slightly, up towards her horn and shone with a dull glimmer.

“I’m sorry,” she finally whispered, almost choking on her words. “I’m spitting in his face with everything I do and... he would be so disgusted with me.”

“Then, darling, let’s work to be better.”

Rarity extended her hoof to Alate. Together, the Ghost and Rarity pulled her from the floor and helped straighten her out. Alate blinked, willing the tears to cease, and looked to the duo with a sheepish expression.

“What happens now?”

The Ghost scanned the damage the reliquary had suffered. Cabinets were cracked or burned, defeated changelings littered the floor, and the heart still pulsed in it’s spot not far from them. It was a chore to look away, but the Ghost turned his sights to Alate and gave her a small smile.

“We’ll talk about that later.”

Matter of the Heart, pt. 4

“‘Tis one thing to invade the Royal Reliquary and abscond with so foul a treasure. ‘Tis another, entirely, to deposit the Princess of the Night into the Living Chest of Haakam un Rama.”

“I understand,” Alate stated, eyes closed. “And I will endure whatever punishment you deem necessary. It is the least I can do.”

Princess Luna, decorated in bruises and matted fur from her time in the chest, turned her gaze to Rarity and the Ghost. They stood upon the balcony of the east tower, flanked by royal guards who watched over the captured changelings. The princess’ gaze was firm as it shifted back to Alate.

“Indeed you shall. The punishment for such heinous offenses is a long walk down to the castle dungeon, where you would waste away for the rest of your treacherous days. Though it seems thou art blessed with good fortune.”

Alate’s eyes shot open, puzzled by the princess’ casual statement. She spied the Ghost smiling beside them.

“The victims of your crimes hath demanded mercy be placed upon you, lest they reveal the true nature of our defeat to dear sister.”

“Mercy?”

“‘Tis blackmail. Treachery, but the little devils believe there is a chance you will reform.” Luna’s expression and voice softened. “In truth, we agree. In the millennia-long life we hath lived many a changeling sought to harm our subjects, yet never were we at a loss for proof that good lies within them, however deep. Thou art that proof to us, Alate, and with the faith of your friends perhaps you may help to educate us on the woes of hive folk so we may help them in return.”

“I-I cannot thank you enough, Princess.” Alate bowed her head. “And to you, friends of Darrox, you have shown me a kindness I won’t forget. I promise.”

The Ghost approached Alate and wrapped a hoof around her shoulder, giving her a light squeeze before Princess Luna forced herself between them. With a nod, she bid Alate to follow her, passing the now sneering and spitting changelings before they, too, were carried off into the castle.

When they were alone Silver pulled back on his mask and let it hang behind him. He turned toward the edge of the balcony to find Rarity, staring out across the mountain and the long shadows Canterlot cast in the setting sun. He walked to her side and placed his hooves upon the railing.

“I can’t believe I got to meet Princess Luna.”

“Darling, you’ve never seen her before?”

“Six years on an island, remember? Given the time difference, I think I actually slept through Nightmare Moon’s return.”

He and Rarity giggled at the comment, but soon silence returned to them as they both stared out across the city, illuminated in the rays of the setting sun. Gilded rooftops twinkled in the sunlight as shadowed windows began to cast light from within in preparation for the coming night. Silver averted his gaze and looked to Rarity.

“You saved me,” Silver said, breaking the silence.

“I don’t know if ‘save’ is the proper word, darling.”

“You did. I’m not sure I could’ve escaped the heart without you.”

“Oh, Silver please. You give me too much credit. I had only just escaped my own nightmare, and you were drowning in yours, so I…” Her voice trailed off as she placed a hoof on his. “It looked awful, dear.”

“So did yours.”

“You saw? I didn’t know you could.”

“What did it mean?”

Rarity’s eyes snapped to Silver’s. Her words froze in her throat as the memories of the heart’s terrible spell returned to her. She gave a sigh, scooting closer to Silver.

“I’m an Element, Silver, there’s a lot of responsibility that goes along with that, and it’s impossible to avoid the public eye when everypony tells tales of your adventures. Even were I not, I’m still one of Equestria’s top designers. Everypony popular from Sapphire Shores to Celestia herself has worn something I made for them. It’s lonely, Silver, with so many ponies calling your name and showering you with some form of praise, yet not a single one of them knows me. I don’t want to be ‘Rarity the hero’, or ‘Rarity the celebrity’, but I’m scared one day that’s all I’ll be to them.”

“And your friends? They were there, too.”

“I love my friends, truly,” she said, wistfully. “But I’m scared some days they believe the stories as much as anypony else does. I know they don’t, but it doesn’t change how I feel. To the ponies I love, I just want to be ‘Rarity’.”

“You are to me.” Silver pulled Rarity close. He led his lips upward and placed a chaste kiss on her forehead. The sight of rosy cheeks against Rarity’s alabaster fur met Silver’s returning sight as the makings of a smile crept along her mouth.

“What did yours mean?” She murmured, sinking into his hold.

“It was the ocean. I don’t know how long I drifted in that water, but I’ll never forget how trapped I felt. Everything I’ve done since happened because Darrox pulled me from the water. I owed him everything, so I followed him. I became him, in a way. But, lately, I've been thinking about what that means.”

“Are you scared you’ll fail him?”

“Quite the opposite. Darrox was so committed to his fight, so determined to see it through without any consideration for the personal price he would pay, but he never really had anything to lose. His family was safe in the hive and he drifted from town to town, content to simply serve like he always had, just to a different folk.” Silver sighed, and unknowingly pulled Rarity closer for comfort. “I’m not like him. Everyone thinks I am, but I’m not. I’ve lost a lot getting to where I am, and while I want to honor him and be that hero he thought I could be, I can’t do it all alone. I can’t ignore the ones I love because there are ones I love. Mom and Rusty and Gilda and-”

“Me?” The errant word shook Silver, drawing the familiar line of red across his muzzle once more.

“Yes.”

“Then we have something in common,” Rarity whispered. “We both need somepony who understands.”

The precious little space between them was snuffed out as their lips connected with one another’s. A relief washed over them both as they fell deeper into the kiss, soundlessly, with only gentle movements to guide their desire. Finally, the sun set over Canterlot, and the moon rose into the sky as their kiss broke. Silver released a ragged breath, earning a giggle from Rarity.

“Do you suspect what I suspect,” she teased. Silver smiled.

“I do.”

“Doth our heroes require privacy?”

The duo slowly turned to the sight of Princess Luna, Alate in tow, smirking at them and carrying a small indigo cage with her. Silver fumbled to bring the mask over his face once more, but was halted by Luna’s firm hoof in the air.

“Halt, Silver Spade, thy secret may be that to others, but for we who hath seen thy dreams, ‘tis no surprise.”

“Right,” he said, sheepishly, before clearing his throat. “I trust everything has been taken care of?”

“Indeed.” Princess Luna motioned a hoof to Alate. “Our new changeling friend will serve out her sentence as a personal informant to we sisters. The matter of the heart, however, will be left to you, noble rogue.”

“Me?”

“Indeed. Clearly our measures to contain its evil have failed, and given your proclivity toward secrecy we trust the Ghost is more than capable of ensuring ne'er do wells steer clear of it. And on the topic…”

Alate stepped forward, taking the cage from Luna’s magical grip, and walked toward Silver and Rarity. He took the cage, a soft thumping heard within.

“I wasn’t alone in organizing the attack. We didn’t even know the heart existed until we made contact with her.”

“‘Her’?” Rarity piped up.

“We met with a mare who told us about the heart. She knows much, friends, far more than anyone could be trusted with. We told her it was impossible to break into the reliquary, that the princesses’ wards were too strong, but she gave us the counter-spell.”

“That explains how they were suppressed,” Rarity said to Silver.

“But how could she know? Who is she?”

“All she asked for was the heart as payment. I remember she described it as one of the objects she was searching for.” Alate’s words forced Silver and Rarity to share a glance before she continued. “We never saw her full face, only piercing eyes behind the mirrored mask she wore. She addressed herself only as the Maestro.”

“What else can you tell me?” Silver asked, unphased.

“I’m sorry, I know nothing more. The princess has offered to protect me from her retribution, but I fear for you both.”

“We’ll be alright,” Rarity said before gripping Silver’s hoof with her own.

“Such valor,” Princess Luna chuckled. “Allow us to depart, we shall leave thee to thine... strategizing. Goodnight.”

The two exited the balcony, once again leaving Silver and Rarity alone. Her stomach twisted into a knot at the news and she turned to Silver, hoping he felt the same. Instead, she was met with a face of pure stoicism.

“I take it you’ll be leaving then? Save Equestria from another mad pony?”

“Not yet.” Silver raised her hoof and placed a gentle kiss upon it. “Unless you want me to.”

“N-No!” Rarity blurted out, louder than intended. “I’d love for you to stay, if you can.”

“I can,” Silver cooed, once more crossing the void between their lips.

Concrete Jungle, pt. 1

A pony would never know the difference between day and night in the bustling streets of Manehatten. The hollering of ponies, the dazzling lights from ornamental street lamps, and the perceptible energy of the city crescendoed in the heart of Meadow Park. A seemingly endless row of carriages, glistening with golden leaf in the streetlight, lined the front of the Manehatten Museum of Natural and Magical History. One by one the rich and affluent emerged.

The steps leading to the museum were dotted with every manner of popular pony imaginable. Musicians, politicians, artists and more were captured in the blinding strobe of camera flashes as they all made their way up toward the grand entrance of the museum. Some took poses beneath the flowing banner decorating the building’s front: “Glistening Gems of Antiquity: A Royal Exhibit”. The words hung high over an argent-colored mane as he walked through the brass double-doors and onto the museum floor.

“Aristo? Aristo! Over there!”

“Lord Aristo, gorgeous tailcoat! Who are you wearing?”

“What inspired your career change into local politics?”

Lord Aristo waved a dainty hoof in response to the onslaught of questions and flashes, chuckling at the attention his alter ego could draw. Sapphire coat flowing behind him, he walked across the polished stone floor into the main lobby, where he was greeted by the melodious sounds of an orchestra and the sight of ponies admiring the exhibit around them.

The room was tall, very tall. Large stone columns towered over the guests and served as supports for some of the larger pieces on display. Glass cases dotted the floor, each one containing objects of impeccable radiance. His eye was drawn across a row of glass cases housing bisected geodes. Each one, as his vision crossed them, grew larger and was a deeper shade of purple than the last, ending in one that stood at least three ponies’ height and seemed almost voidal in appearance. A firm slap on the shoulder snapped Aristo from his sightseeing.

“Aristo, you old dog, I love the new style. The cravat, especially.”

Aristo instinctively touched his cravat, bronze in color and sporting a small violet gem, before turning to the source of the surprise compliment. Fancy Pants smiled in response and adjusted his monocle.

“Fancy,” Aristo chirped. “It’s been months since I last saw you. How are things in the capital?”

“Much better, to be sure. Quite the turnaround since... well, since last time.” Fancy gave a quick cough to cover his stutter. “But look at you! All dolled up for the event, I see. Who is your tailor?”

“A friend from Canterlot,” he replied with a warm smile. “Best not to go spreading gossip, though. She might not like that.”

“She? Oh, Aristo, you devil. Like it or not you’ll have to at least…” Fancy’s eyes darted elsewhere before flailing his hoof over his head. “Right here, my love, be there in a moment! Forgive me, chap, but I’m needed elsewhere. Drop me a gram, would you? I would love to hear how you’re handling Coltistrano these days.”

Aristo gave a wave and a nod as Fancy trotted into the crowd toward a creamy lavender mare. He turned his attention back to the row of displays and followed them. The sight of Fancy, alive and happy, stoked a warmth in his chest and put a spring in his step. Aristo hardly ever had the chance to see the fruits of his many labors, but in the few moments he did it elated him like nothing else. He rode the emotion all the way to the apex of the exhibit. Before him stood a single pedestal, roped off from the crowd, that supported a massive opaque stone the size of Aristo’s own head.

“The gem’s opacity comes from captured sunlight within the gem’s internalized fulcrum point.” The comment barely managed to capture Aristo’s attention, drained of energy and hardly more than droning.

“I’m sorry?”

“The opacity,” said the mare beside him, mauve mane stiff as she looked to him. “Most gemstones are known to refract light and magic as it enters the structure, but the Eye diffuses it at a point deeper than the surface. That’s why it looks cloudy.”

“Oh, is that unusual?”

“Very. The spherical concave cut is natural, and for a gem like this it should be impossible.”

“Makes it look like a crystal sun.”

“That’s why we named it the Celestia’s Eye.”

At this there was silence between the two. Scant glances were exchanged, but the subtle glow of the gem before them held most of the attention. Finally, Aristo turned and raised a hoof.

“Aristo,” he said.

“Dr. Maud Pie,” she replied, taking the hoof and shaking. Aristo winced through his smile at the force the mare gripped him with. “Are you enjoying my exhibit?”

“Very much. I’ve done some light study into enchanted stones and gems in my leisure, but the amount of history here is honestly astounding. Did you excavate all of these?”

“Sure did.” Her response brought a chuckle from Aristo as he revelled in her brevity.

“Prefer to keep it short and sweet, huh? Most nobleponies would’ve started rambling about their exploits by now.”

“I dug up and carried the most incredible gem ever found in Equestrian history with my own four hooves.” The very edge of her mouth began to curl upwards. “I think it speaks for itself.”

“Where did you find it?” Aristo asked, smiling at the confidence in her monotone words.

“In a cave system along the Crystal Mountains. Evidence showed there was a small civilization of Kirin that idolized it, but after thousands of-”

“That is a mighty big rock. How much?”

Aristo and Maud spun around to the source of the thick native Manehatten accent: a tall, yellow-toned pegasus strutting toward them, black and grey mane slicked back along his scalp and falling down upon a silken white scarf. He was flanked by two ponies of identical teal color and sporting matching black dress coats and ties.

“Excuse you?” Maud asked, deadpanning the newcomer.

“Oh, forgive my manners.” He bowed his head before continuing. “Victory Lane, four-time Equestria Games gold medalist and purveyor of the arts. I’m sure we can come to an arrangement, miss...?”

“Doctor,” Maud stressed. Aristo could see wrinkles begin to form along her brow. “Nothing’s for sale. Stop wasting our time.”

“I’m offering a lot of money for this overrated centerpiece,” the pegasus said, a rumble in his voice. “So, politely, I’d ask you to reconsider.”

“It’s pretty clear she’s not willing to part with it,” Aristo interjected, stepping between Maud and the stranger. “Or perhaps you misread ‘museum’ as ‘pawn shop’.”

“And you are?”

“Lord Aristo. Governor of Coltistrano and a purveyor of the arts, myself.” He held out a hoof. “And as such, I think two like-minded ponies can agree some works are better kept in a museum... and others outside.”

“Tough words,” Victory Lane huffed, firmly shaking Aristo’s hoof. “But I suppose I shouldn’t expect newcomers to appreciate the subtle technique of Manehatten bartering. Let’s go boys, let’s leave the stiffs in peace.”

At that, Victory Lane clapped his hooves together and trotted away from Maud and Aristo. Her face remained unchanged, minus the subtle hints of fury resting within, but Aristo kept his eyes trained on the trio as they disappeared into the crowd. With keen sight, he noticed more than one pony followed Victory Lane’s path through the museum.

“The nerve of some ponies,” Maud finally said.

“I agree, though I must ask. Are you permitted to personally transport any object in the exhibit?”

“Yes,” she said, quizzically. “Why?”

Her ears perked up at a shrill scream from the far end of the exhibit hall, announcing the wave of confused shouting that soon filled her senses. She could see nearly a dozen ponies, clad in dark suits and wide-brim hats, muscling their way through the crowd. Bolts of magic flew, glass cases were shattered, but all the while Aristo’s expression remained as unchanged as Maud’s.

“Would you be able to do that now?”

Without a second’s hesitation, Maud sprinted through the rope barrier and wrested the Eye from its pedestal. When she turned, however, Aristo was nowhere to be found. Another scream shunted the worry from her mind and she made a dead sprint toward the emergency exit. She plowed through the crowd of nobleponies, but not before the thundering sound of wings rang out around her. A yellow blur filled her vision, standing in front of the exit door.

“What part of ‘four-time gold medalist’ didn’t you understand?”

Maud spun around to run again, but the same yellow blur followed her vision. Wherever she went Victory Lane seemed to effortlessly keep pace with her. The beat of his wings was loud, launching him nimbly in all directions, as he danced around the fleeing earth pony like a predator toying with its prey. Finally, Maud found herself surrounded by the rest of Lane’s goons as they slowly crept closer. Lane spoke with a smug grin.

“You could’ve just taken the money, miss.”

“Doctor.”

The offending word startled the crowd of goons. Lane frantically scanned the room until his eyes locked onto a black, wispy shape clinging to one of the large columns. It lunged at the crowd, nimbly gliding through the magic bolts fired desperately from Lane’s henchponies.

The black mass reached out to encompass the crowd, ensnaring three ponies within its veil as the Ghost lashed out with powerful blows. More shots were fired, diffusing against the surface of the cloak, before it reached out to slice at the aggressing unicorns. Victory Lane spun away from the scene and lunged for Maud and the Eye. To his surprise, the impact he thought was his best tackle instead petered out against Maud’s immovable stance. She held the Eye from him, boring holes with her stare, before raising a hindleg and striking with enough force to send the pegasus soaring overhead.

The Ghost barely caught the display as he danced between the swipes and strikes of the goons around him. They were good, coordinated, and moved against him in pairs of two at a time. The Ghost kicked one to his knees and rolled over him, attempting to dodge the oncoming strike of two pegasi as they collided against their ally. Another goon charged the recovering Ghost, but fell to the impact of a large champagne bottle colliding with his head from far away.

“That makes us even, Ghost,” Fancy Pants hollered triumphantly. “Now kick their flanks!”

A smile broke out across the Ghost’s face as he launched himself into the air with renewed vigor. He whipped two tendrils out onto the goons below and landed next to Maud, who still clung to the Eye. The two watched as Victory Lane and his henchponies rose from the floor, all eyes set on Maud and the Ghost. The sounds of sirens began to fill the museum.

“They’re not stopping,” she said, breathily.

“They’re not, but we can lure them to the cops, at least.”

“How do you suggest we do that?”

The Ghost’s eyes fell upon the row of geodes beside them, locking onto the massive voidal stone. He twirled his cloak around his hoof.

“For the record, doctor, I’m very sorry for this.”

The cloak launched from its master’s hoof and pierced the glass case to grip at the geode. With a fierce tug he wrenched the stone from its resting place and caused it to roll out across the floor. The deep purple face landed between them and the thugs, threatening to flatten a few of them, and gave the duo enough time to run. Their head start was enough to reach the exit door without contest, until a yellow gust of wind flew between them. Maud stumbled and gasped when she learned she had landed on all four hooves.

“Looking for something?” Victory Lane stood at the exit door, the Celestia’s Eye in his hoof. “This ain’t your turf, Ghost, so I’ll give you a change to get lost.”

“Return the Eye, Lane,” the Ghost demanded. “The threats of thieves won;t be enough to protect you if you refuse.”

“Oh sure, you’re a big and scary pony, too bad you’ll have to catch me to get it. Let’s move, boys!”

Lane’s gang sprinted after him, losing all interest in their targets. The Ghost, however, was far from done as he launched the end of his cloak out across the floor, snatching the hind leg of a straggling henchpony. He collided with the stone below, kicking against the cloak’s hold as it slowly pulled him closer to its almost phantasmal source. A firm strike against his chin knocked the pony out cold and the Ghost began to carry him through the emergency exit.

“We have to follow them,” Maud blurted out.

“We’ll never catch him, but we can find out where he’s going. Come on.”

“I spent years looking for that gem, I won’t-”

“Doctor, trust me!” The Ghost’s words snared her attention. “We can find it together but I need you to help me.”

The shouting of police traveled into the exhibit hall, but Maud could only focus on the Ghost’s words and the pedestal which once held the Eye. There was a shaking inside her chest, violent and painful, but one she suppressed enough to follow the Ghost out through the exit and into the back loading bay where they ran off into the night, captive in tow.

Concrete Jungle, pt. 2

At first there was a ringing. A buzzing sensation that spread throughout his skull and quickly sharpened into a sting as he shook himself awake. There was a tightness, though, that gripped his midsection, and when he opened his eyes he was met with a wall of blackness. He was bound and blindfolded. From behind the crunch of loose gravel beneath hooves was heard, stepping closer.

“Awake at last, Berry Burn,” a deep voice announced.

“What, who? How’d you know my name?”

“A wallet is the last thing you want a vigilante to find.”

“A-Are you him? The guy who whacked us at the party?” His question was met with silence. “You are, aren’t you? You’re that Ghost guy, I’ve heard about you. You toasted my cousin in Baltimare.”

“He’s nursing his wounds in prison, a fate you’re close to sharing if you don’t cooperate.”

“You mean the rock, right? You wanna know where Victory Lane’s taken it. I can help you.” A grin formed on the goon’s face. “But not for free. You want my help, it’s gonna cost you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, because without me you’ve got no clue where he is, so here’s the deal. I’ll spill my guts on Victory Lane, tell you who’s buying the rock, and in return you let me walk. No cops, no nothing. Capisce?”

Hoofsteps once again reached his ears as his captor approached. He could feel the Ghost’s hot breath on his neck now, threatening to singe his now retreating grin. A hoof touched his face, leathery in texture and running up quivering jawline, making slight contact with the cloth obscuring his vision.

“You’re not really in a position to negotiate. Let me show you why.”

In an instant the cloth was removed, and his vision soon adjusted to witness the plummeting height at which he dangled over. An ear-splitting scream escaped his lips. He flailed his restrained body with all his might, desperate to escape the towering chasm Manehatten’s skyscrapers created, but a firm hoof held him in place.

“Where is Victory Lane,” the Ghost demanded.

“You crazy nut! You tryna’ kill me here! Oh Celestia, let me go!”

“Don’t tempt me, Berry.” The Ghost released some slack from his cloak, driving Berry just an inch further into gravity’s hold. “I’ll ask again. Where?!”

“I-I don’t know where he’s going, but he’s got a buyer for the rock!”

“Who?”

“Some weirdo in a mask, been talking with them for days, now. He’s probably on his way there now!”

“That doesn’t help me, Berry.” Slowly, Berry felt himself leaning further over the edge as the cloak slithered from the Ghost. “I want to know where!”

“I-I don’t… I don’t know. Lane doesn’t tell us goons nothing, we just do the heavy lifting.”

“Why don’t I believe you?”

“Let me try.”

Berry’s ears perked up at the airy drone of another pony. His stomach fell into his hooves as he was lifted from the building’s ledge and dangled over, clinging frantically to the one hoof keeping him from his impending doom. Maud stood there, expressionless, as the Ghost retracted his cloak and merely observed.

“Start talking, my hoof’s getting tired,” she growled, giving a quick jerk of her foreleg to punctuate the message.

“Y-Y-You… w-we didn’t want… please don’t drop...” Berry stammered, legs dangling in the air beneath him. “A club. Lane’s g-g-got a club on the w-west side. The Mulberry, real classy lounge joint. H-He might be th-”

The powerful foreleg pulled him from the precipice and out across the rooftop, skidding along the stone and falling prey to the rush of blood to his head. Berry fell limp, unconscious, leaving Maud and the Ghost alone.

“Nice work,” the Ghost said. “I almost thought you’d do it.”

“The urge was there.” Maud continued to look out over the city.

“Do you want to talk? I know a lot has happened tonight and you seem on edge.”

“How could you tell?” Her trademark stoicism punctuated the question as she turned to the Ghost.

“You’re shaking.”

The comment struck Maud, betraying the anger that had burrowed in her chest. She took tepid steps toward the Ghost and rested on her haunches before him. He joined her, placing his hoof on her shoulder as she gave a ragged sigh.

“This was supposed to be it. I was supposed to put on this exhibit and show everypony my work mattered. I was finally going to be respected and not the punchline to somepony’s joke. Now that crook is out there with my life’s work.” She hung her head low, voice barely above a whisper. “I’m an idiot.”

“You organized an event to display your passion to the richest and most influential ponies in Equestria and demanded they treat you with the same dignity others treat them. Now you’re out here fighting to take it back, and you’re not even wearing a mask.”

“Pretty dumb, huh?”

“Pretty brave,” the Ghost replied. “No matter what happens tonight, Maud, you’re one of the bravest ponies I’ve ever met and nothing can take that from you.”

Maud’s stare reached the Ghost’s. She gave a tiny smile before rising to her hooves.

“So what now, find the Mulberry?”

“Exactly. If we don’t find him, we’ll at least learn where he’s going.”

“Well, our friend’s out cold. Any idea where to start?”

“How do you feel about flying?”

“I’m... not the biggest fan.”

“Just hold tight to me, okay?”

The Ghost held out a hoof to the hesitant doctor. She glanced from him to the city around them, and back again. She inhaled, grabbed his hoof, and was slowly pulled onto his back and placed her forelegs around his neck. They stepped to the edge of the building.

“If I puke it’s your fault.”

“Close your eyes, I’ll go easy.”

Her eyes shut as hard as she could make them, fighting to ignore the rush of wind through her mane as her stomach turned. The Ghost leaned off the building and spread his cloak, carrying them through the illuminated buildings, far above the bustling streets below. Even the Ghost couldn’t quite calm his nerves, far more used to the lower buildings of Equestrian towns and villages than the skyline of its greatest city.

He dipped their trajectory downward to gain speed and earned a soft choke from Maud’s hooves in response before tilting back up to crest an oncoming building. From the corner of his eye the Ghost could spot ponies staring through the flanking windows. Some gasped soundlessly, while others cheered and watched in awe at the flying duo. In time, though, they began to descend, but not before the Ghost spied the glow of violet and pink neon. ‘Mulberry’ pierced the softer glow of neighboring buildings and seemed to beckon them. A final dive, then a swoop upward, and the two ponies came to a gentle landing upon the sidewalk. Maud’s eyes remained spitefully shut.

“Hey, we’re here. You can look now.”

Turquoise orbs peeked out from behind her eyelids, scanning her still spinning surroundings until she locked onto the hard stone of the sidewalk. She clambered from the Ghost’s back and nearly dug her hooves into the ground, shakily, and reveled in the sensation of firm earth. All the while her expression remained largely unchanged.

“We’re never doing that again,” she groaned.

“Next time we’ll go spelunking, something more your speed.” The Ghost’s sarcasm earned him a stern glare as he helped Maud steady herself. Wordlessly, the two gazed upon the exterior of the Mulberry, it’s dark brick and soft glowing windows accentuated sharply by the radiance of the neon sign bearing the lounge’s name. Before them stood large oak doors.

“You ready?”

“Is mafic extrusive igneous predominantly magnesium?”

The Ghost chuckled at the comment, approaching and placing a hoof upon the door. The heavy wood gave way to his touch as he and Maud stepped through the threshold. The room was dim, accented by the same dark wood of the door and housed a lingering film of smoke in the air. Booths paralleled the bar beside them and formed a straight path toward an illuminated stage. Ponies stood upon it, selling their breath for sweet notes from the brass instruments in their hooves. One by one, the Mulberry’s patrons looked up from their drinks and from beneath their hats, letting their eyes wander to the two ponies standing in the doorway. The bar fell silent.

“I get the feeling we’re not welcome here,” Maud whispered.

“That’s too bad,” the Ghost replied.

“Hey, hey! What happened to the music?”

The accented voice came from the staircase to the far right of the lounge floor. Yellow fur broke the dark ambiance surrounding it as Victory Lane came storming down the steps, his teal twins following close beside him.

“I don’t pay you schmucks to suck air unless it’s for makin’ music. And the rest of you, what’s got…” Victory Lane spied the duo, almost locked in place by their combined glare. The Ghost and Maud each took a step forward, and Lane two steps back. Maud tilted her neck, letting the crack in her spine echo around her. The Ghost squinted, wrapping his hooves in his cloak. Every mobster in the room sat tensed, anxiously watching both parties to see who would move first.

The ponies outside trotted past the Mulberry, unaware of the scene unfolding within. A few turned their heads toward the large structure and the odd noises radiating from within, while many more held to their ignorance and continued on their way. The Mulberry’s walls would shake, occasionally, with a thump and would cry out with the sound of broken glass. More than a few screams helped give definition to the raucous rampage happening within the Mulberry’s confines. Suddenly, a pony is thrown through one of the windows and rolls out onto the pavement.

The lounge was now a wreck. Victory Lane’s mobsters piled, one by one, onto their invaders in a futile attempt to wrest back control. More than one grabbed hold of the grey earth pony before being cast aside by the mare’s uncanny strength and fortitude. Her partner moved like a shade. Weaving through the crowd, striking when he could, all while a single black tendril held Victory Lane by the throat. From behind, the barpony charged his horn and fired.

The errant bolt flew through the air and impacted on Maud. She fell to her knees, and was soon swallowed by the raining racketeers who threw themselves at her, desperate to keep her down. Their efforts were in vain as Maud pushed herself from the ground. Four, five, then six landed upon her, but it seemed no amount of weight could keep her contained. She leaped forward with mighty hooves, scraping the floor beneath her and ejecting from the crumpled pile of criminals before joining the Ghost.

The barpony fired again, before a bolt of black whizzed past his face. With a bottle ensnared, the Ghost yanked his improvised ammo from the wall of booze behind the bar and smashed it over the barpony’s head. He fell against the counter top, limply, as the Ghost returned his attention to the remaining goons. It was only a matter of time before the duo cast the final crook aside and turned their attention to the captive pegasus, cowering in the Ghost’s hold.

“Whoa whoa whoa! I-I gotta give it to you two, you’re something to beho-hrrk!” The Ghost’s shadowy limb tightened.

“The cat and mouse game is fun, Lane, but we’re growing bored. Where is the Eye?”

“I-It’s just upstairs,” Victory Lane croaked. “Lemme go and I’ll get it.”

“Doctor,” the Ghost began. “Go reclaim your work, I’ll keep him occupied.”

Maud bounded across the scuffed floor and up the stairs, clearing them in a single bound and stepping into Lane’s office. The dark walls matched the decor on the lower level, though decidedly tidier, and sat opposite a row of windows now flooded with neon light. On the desk before her sat the Eye. Gently, she rested her hooves upon it, still warm and radiating soft yellow light. As she hoisted it to her side a second glow caught her attention. It was sharp, piercing, and an obnoxious shade of blue that seemed to grow along the walls around her. Small runes sprung into existence and seemed to follow Maud as she bolted down the stairs to the Ghost who, too, watched the light travel across the interior of the Mulberry. Lane began to shake.

“No no no. No, you crazy freak, this wasn’t part of the deal.”

“What isn’t? What’s happening, Lane?” The Ghost’s vision jerked to all corners of the now-glowing room. Maud stood close to him.

“We need to get out of here,” she stated, nudging the Ghost. Not a moment later, the blue runes turned red and began to hiss.

There was a blast above them, then another, and another. The entire building trembled under the force as bits of wood and fire spewed out from the staircase. Lane moved first, elbowing the Ghost and loosening the hold of the cloak before making his mad dash toward the entrance. The two gave chase before another blast from the bar knocked them to the ground. Lane sped off, slamming the door behind him, before the fire from ignited booze consumed the lounge. The creaking of wood and the sound of another hiss announced the coming of a fourth blast. The Ghost wrapped himself, Maud, and the Eye in his cloak as the final fireball shot forth and consumed not only them but the Mulberry itself in its wake. Ponies on the street scrambled away from the scene, witnessing the lounge topple and fall into the ground beneath it, leaving nothing but a cloud of smoke and dust.

Concrete Jungle, pt. 3

Victory Lane coughed violently as he entered the alleyway. He was too far from the Mulberry to see the rising smoke in the distance, instead electing to tend to the growing knot of worry in his gut. He fell to his haunches along the stone wall of a building. A sharp sting came from his wing when he tried to stretch, its source a handsome gash along his shoulder blade. He ignored the wound, held his head back and sighed.

His entire life was back in that smoldering inferno. Trophies, contracts, photo albums, and all the dirt he had on Manehatten’s residents now up in smoke. He silently cursed himself for taking the job, for not surrendering to the Ghost and Maud, and for aligning himself with somepony he, admittedly, didn’t fully understand. The knot grew tighter and flared at the sound of a second set of hooves.

“Lane.”

The haunting growl came from deeper in the alleyway, but he recognized it. Lane stood from the damp stone ground and swept at his fur, desperately trying to make himself presentable to the phantasm who beckoned him. He cleared his throat.

“Y-Yes?”

“Do you have what I asked of you?”

“N-No, I mean I did! Well, until they arrived,” Lane stammered, looking everywhere except deeper into the black alley. “There were problems.”

“I expect problems, just as I expect you to deal with them. Instead, I find you making deals.”

“You didn’t see what I saw. They were wild, unreal. You said the Ghost was some country yokel type, like a Robin Hoof rip-off at the movies, not some damn force of nature.”

“Do not pin your failures on me, Lane!” The voice roared, forcing Lane onto his haunches. “The information I gave you was perfect. The plan was flawless. You let your incompetence stand between me and my prize.”

“You blew up my bar,” Lane shot back, defiantly. “You wanted the damn rock, and I got that rock. You want me to fight masked lunatics and freak show mares? That costs extra. As far as I’m concerned we’re square, capisce?”

The darkness before Victory Lane seemed to open to a deeper, blacker void. Streaks of grey coiled together and shot themselves at the wounded pegasus and carried him into the air. There he was dangled, trapped in the swirling vortex of darkness as he felt seething agony spread through his form. There were snaps, cracks, and a putrid crunch that pressed his chest inward ever so slightly. His fur changed color, and all other parts of himself began to shit into amorphous shapes.

“Never forget the sort of power I wield, Lane. I have the means to unmake you.” At that Victory Lane was restored, healed of his wounds and dropped back onto the cold earth. The vile magic retreated back to its obscured source in the darkness of the alley. “I have doubts they were killed in the explosion. Should they survive, you will lure them out to me, and I will finish your mission for you.”

Silence was all Lane could hear as he stood to his hooves, the rumble of carriages and ponies chattering far in the distance. The pegasus shuffled in place before letting out a forceful grunt and kicking at the litter decorating the alley. He huffed, spread his wings, and shamefully flew back toward the Mulberry.

--

The last thud of falling debris petered out across the cold stone room. Chips of burning wood, tiny shards of glass, and the omnipresent smell of smoke surrounded the dark mass curled up on the floor. It shuffled in place, then lurched to one side. The black covering was pulled over to reveal two ponies huddled together amidst the wreckage. The Ghost groggily sat up before he clenched his side, wincing. With few calming breaths he managed to peer out around his new surroundings with blurred vision.

It was a cellar, or something comparable. Small pipes lined the walls, the floor was wet, and the scent of mildew was barely perceptible amongst the smoke. The room extended farther away toward a large door made of aged metal. The Ghost looked up to the ceiling to find the charred remains of the Mulberry had caught on themselves, plugging the hole he and Maud had, no doubt, fallen through in the explosion. He turned to Maud.

“Maud? Maud!” The Ghost shook his companion firmly, searching for signs of life, no matter how minor. With another, almost violent shake she peered out to him through weary eyelids. Maud gripped her head and groaned, helped to her haunches by the Ghost.

“Are we alive?” She muttered.

“Thankfully, yes. Are you okay? I don’t see anything broken.”

“At least you can see,” she said, feeling around for the Ghost’s hooves. “It’s pitch black in here.”

“It... is?” The Ghost surveyed the room once more, his vision finally coming into focus. Instead of a dimly lit cellar, like he was expecting, the sight of their confines came to him with unusual clarity. The world to him was grey scale, and not even the soft mauve mane of Maud held any hint of color. “I can see in the dark?”

“Is that new?”

“No, I mean… I guess Darrox was right.”

“Well I can’t see at all.” Maud rose to her hooves and squinted, trying to pierce the darkness with her stare. It was oppressively black in the small room they landed in, but just beyond the obscured shapes she spied a faint ray of light. Maud approached, kicking away some of the debris, and let the ray grow into a full radiance as she held aloft the Celestia’s Eye. It’s light illuminated their surroundings, but only just, as Maud returned to her companion.

“This is turning into one wild night,” the Ghost chuckled, witnessing his newly granted night vision dissipate as color once again returned to his world. “Do you have any idea where we are?”

“Not sure, but the walls seem to be made of limecrete, and look pretty worn from where I’m standing.”

“‘Limecrete’?”

“It’s an older form of building material that involves setting a standard concrete building material into a lime binder. It’s lightweight, durable, and has the added benefit of forcing moisture from the inside of a room to the outside. I’d say we’re in an old utility tunnel. That being said, there’s a lot of water coming in from above.”

“I take it that's a bad thing. Any idea how to get out?”

“These tunnel systems are built to run copper wire throughout the city alongside the water supply network that’s no doubt spilling from the other side of the wall.”

“A lot of the pipes have been busted, and I’m not sure which ones will drown us or electrocute us. Let’s get moving.”

The two, aided by the light of the Eye, began making their way down the far hallway. The door before them was rusted, and gave a metallic wail when the Ghost pulled and pushed. Maud simply handed the Eye to him, raised a hind leg, and sent it hurdling against the aged steel as its hinges snapped off, the door flying against the opposite wall. Water that was once held at bay now flooded into the room, collecting around their ankles. Behind them came the creaking sounds of wood as the debris of the Mulberry buckled under its own weight. A snap was heard, and the duo began sprinting away from the second cloud of dust and rubble as they splashed through the tunnel.

The utility tunnels were worse off than they thought. Visible cracks along the walls, evidence of the recent demolition, spilled the clear lifeblood of the city onto the cold floor. The Ghost could feel a twinge of panic within him as he stared into the rising water. Maud, however, remained steadfast and focused directly in front of her as they rapidly searched for the way out. Her stoicism cracked with each minute that passed.

The water had risen a full three hooves by now with no sign of stopping, and with only the glow of the eye to guide them the dilapidated utility tunnels began to feel more like a tomb. The Ghost strained his eyes, as he had done for the past few minutes, and managed to summon his night vision once again before scanning the area. Finally he spied a narrow staircase, leading to a metal door as its ceiling. The Ghost ascended first, followed by Maud, and began forcefully pounding the far sturdier barrier between freedom and their approaching doom. The angle of the stairs made gaining leverage difficult. Maud struck the door to no avail, before the Ghost produced a dagger from within his cloak and began to fiddle with the lock. He felt the water breach his boot and began to work faster.

A miraculous click reached their ears. In response, Maud furiously struck the metal door and forced it open, pulling the Ghost with her through the threshold. They fell out onto the street, greeted by the calm breeze flowing through what looked like an empty loading dock.

“No spelunking, either,” she grumbled, earning a breathy chuckle from the Ghost. They helped each other up from the cool earth, savoring the fresh air flowing through their lungs. They stood, almost leaning against each other, in willful silence until a firm click landed beside them.

“You two have no idea how long I’ve been lookin’ for you!” Victory Lane stomped toward them, fuming and unable to keep his twitching wings still. The Ghost wearily placed himself in front of Maud and the Eye.

“Stand down, Lane. Surrender and I promise you won’t be harmed, if not then-”

“Holy bologna, shut it!” His ear-piercing command seemed to have some effect as the Ghost cut off his sentence. “I have had it up to here with masks and schemes and whatever crazy melodrama you wackos are so high off of. I can’t... argh!”

A belligerent bellowing escaped Victory Lane’s muzzle, and the visibly confused duo could do nothing except watch the scene unfold. Lane’s roar petered out into a coarse cough as he straightened himself and huffed.

“Ghost, mi-... doctor. I want to make a deal.”

“A deal,” Maud deadpanned. “You dropped a building on us and now you want to make a deal?”

“Yes,” he shot back. “Because, if you recall, my club dropped on my head, also.”

“What do you want, Lane?” The Ghost held the pegasus in his firm gaze. “What could you possibly offer us now that we have the Eye?”

“The one who paid me to steal it for them. I’d give you the full contract we had except, you know, it’s a crisp right now, but I’ve got a lot more information swimmin’ around in my head. In return, I want you to let me go.”

“That’s it,” Maud began. “You spill what you know, we let you walk, and that’s it?”

“That’s it. No tricks, no backstabbin’, no nothin’.”

“Maud,” the Ghost said, turning to the mare at his side. “What do you think?”

“I think you’re desperate, Lane.” She took a step toward the pegasus. “It sounds like you’ve bucked up one too many times and your boss is angry. So, instead of facing your problems, you come running to us to get you out of them. Am I right?”

“You walking a dangerously thin-”

“Am I right?” Maud's tone rose sharply, a thin wrinkle tracing along her brow to express more emotion than she had shown all night. Victory Lane grumbled, holding his tongue before giving a relenting sigh.

“Yeah, you’re right. The psycho blew my home to tartarus and now I want out. What’ve I gotta do to get you to help me?”

“I want an apology.” Maud’s words struck Lane, shooting her a quizzical look.

“You serious?”

“Yes. An apology.”

“I’m sorry I-”

“Not good enough.” Victory Lane huffed in response to the fierce interjection.

“Fine, fine! Doctor, please accept my most humble apologies for assaultin’ your party and ruinin’ your most perfect evening. My heart aches with remorse.” He bowed his head low, rolling his eyes, as Maud smirked. “Can you find it within yourself to forgive me?”

“The groveling was more than enough,” Maud snarked, her smirk as vicious as she could make it. “Now, tell us everything.”

Concrete Jungle, pt. 4

The Manehatten waterfront shimmered in the light of the skyline above, light dancing along the ripples of the bay. A small vessel broke the serenity of the water as it glided through the bay almost soundlessly toward an illuminated dock. Worker ponies stood along the wooden limb, ensnaring the ship in rope and hauling it in toward its final destination. They boarded, unlatched the heavy cargo, and one by one carried the boxes along the gangplank and across the dock leading inland. They wearily laughed to each other in reverie of finishing this final haul. The crew and workers moved as one, disappearing into the large, dimly lit warehouse beyond.

Across the bay, devoid of any real light, a group of Lane’s thugs had gathered in force. They were hardy, and stood firm against the stiff breeze coming in from the black sea beyond. A vessel, dark and sleek, sat unattended at the dock and emanated the soft rumble of its magical engine. Then the clopping of hooves came. All eyes trained on its source, thugs tense and ready for whatever may emerge from beyond their vision. The distinct yellow fur of Victory Lane entered their view, accentuated by the glow of his most precious cargo. He stepped onto the deck and held aloft the Celestia’s Eye.

“Alright, I got your precious rock,” he hollered out into the darkness. “This concludes our business, yes?”

The glossy boat began to stir. From it’s cabin a dark figure emerged, one Lane recognized, and strode across the wooden planks of the dock. Each step seemed louder than the last, and Lane’s heart struck his chest as the object of his terror stepped into full view. A dark formal cape covered their entire figure, save for cold grey eyes that pierced a polished metal mask covering all but a stern green muzzle. A small velvet bag hung from their neck and was decorated in golden runes along the fabric.

“You surprise me, Lane,” the pony said in its distorted voice. “I had suspected you to turn tail and run.”

“And let you hunt me down like a rabid diamond dog? Fat chance.” He placed the Eye on the damp ground, tired eyes staring at his enigmatic employer. “Are we done?”

“Perhaps,” the masked pony hummed. Grey eyes rested upon the stone but soon scanned the area, searching. “Am I to suspect our competition perished in the explosion?”

“Along with my very expensive lounge,” Lane said, his voice like a razor. “But I doubt diggin’ through the ruins of my business to get your rock will earn me any hazard pay.”

“Too true, and neither will your tall tales.”

“You callin’ me a liar, mirror face?”

“It was a matter of time before they retrieved the Eye from you, which is why I placed explosive runes in your lounge. They were designed to demolish the building and topple it into the old service tunnels below, trapping them.”

“I watched those wack-jobs get cooked!”

“You watched the fire surround a pony in possession of a magically-impervious cloak and unparalleled survival skills, the same pony who you saw as your only escape from our arrangement.” A grin stretched to both corners of the mask. “So you struck a deal, correct? One to expose me and relieve you of any consequences.”

“H-How could you know all that?”

“Because you’re too predictable, Lane. The Ghost, on the other hoof…” The masked pony turned to the crowd of mobsters, grey eyes resting on a single pony. The other crooks followed their employer’s gaze and slowly prepared their weapons. “I must admit your infiltration was an inspired decision. I had expected you to swoop in from the eastern rooftop.”

A gloved hoof rose to the wide-brimmed hat and pulled it off his masked head, revealing a smirk and amber eyes that locked onto his enemy.

“I figured you’d appreciate it,” he chuckled. “But I suppose we’re both endeared to the theatrical. Correct, Maestro?”

The Maestro’s smirk faltered. Harsh words that fought to escape as the Ghost pulled the remainder of his disguise from his form, allowing the cloak to flow freely.

“You are aware? Then perhaps we should make things even.” The Maestro dragged the tip of a hoof along the edge of the mask. Runes sprung to life and worked their magic, removing the voice’s distortion before the Maestro cast off the cape to reveal a single-breasted coat buttoned to the neck. Before the ghost stood a pegasus mare, pale green and staring him down with a cold glare.

“I have to congratulate you, it’s not often I’m genuinely surprised by another pony. For that, I will give you a choice. Surrender the Eye and your cloak to me, and I will let you live.”

“A tempting offer, but one I have to refuse.” The Ghost spread his stance, sharing a glare between every threat now surrounding him. “Besides, I’m not the only one who wants a piece of you.”

The Maestro cocked an eyebrow before a rapid tapping came from below. She beat her wings just in time to dodge the explosive force with which Maud broke through the ground beneath. The blast sent debris hurtling in every direction, disorienting the criminals enough for the Ghost to strike unhindered. His cloak lashed out, seemingly on its own, to every enemy around him, but his eyes remained held to the Maestro’s calculated flight pattern as she dove for the Eye.

Her hooves grabbed the stone, but not before Maud launched her full weight into the pegasus. Instead of taking the strike the Maestro rolled, grabbed hold of Maud’s mane, and kicked her away and along the dock. The Maestro recovered in time to dodge a swipe of the Ghost’s cloak as two unicorn mobsters flanked her.

“Give me the Eye and surrender, Maestro,” the Ghost demanded. “I won’t allow you to unleash whatever sinister scheme you have in store.”

“A scheme you know nothing of. You don’t even know what the Eye does, do you?” With a quick strike to the unicorn beside her, the Maestro ensnared his horn within her grasp. “Why don’t I show you?”

She touched the Eye to her captive’s head, coaxing the magic from within and turning the stone to a deep red color. The glow sharpened before a single thundering beam of power ejected from the Eye and toward the Ghost. The sheer heat of the blast made his heart race as another rocketed toward him. Again and again the Maestro fired upon the Ghost, who desperately danced around the beam in an attempt to position himself. A final ruby laser pierced the air as it soared over the Ghost’s head, tearing through the Maestro’s vessel.

She winced at the damage, but was soon drawn to the sight of Maud gripping her remaining cohorts and slamming them into each other. She turned the Eye onto Maud and earned a solid hoof to the muzzle. The Maestro stumbled back, dropping the eye and allowing the Ghost to gain ground. He and Maud stood before her, panting from battle and ready to strike.

“I’ll say it again, Maestro, surrender.”

“A noble sentiment, Ghost, but not one I agree with. You should learn not to threaten an opponent who isn’t yet defeated!”

The Maestro gripped the bag around her neck and drew it open. A torrent of shadowy power spilled into the air, forming into a single ray and careening into the duo. The Ghost raised his cloak to shield them both but was nearly taken off his hooves by the sheer power of this new force. He grimaced at the pressure, prompting Maud to push back as well. Even with their combined strength they were pushed closer and closer to the water. Grey and black smoke, which jerked erratically, seemed to curl around the lip of the cloak and reach out for them. Maud pulled a hoof from their barrier and wrapped the Eye in the cloak’s other corner. The fabric stretched to accommodate its size, allowing Maud to twirl it as a make-shift sling before launching it overhead and into the Maestro’s face with a piercing metallic clang. The dark energy turned toward the sky, cursed lightning and swirling smoke filling the air before fizzling into nothingness. The remnants of the Maestro’s dark magic settled as a thick cloud. When the Ghost and Maud charged through to where the Maestro had fallen, there was nopony to be found. Instead, Maud turned wearily to collect the Eye.

“Sweet Celestia,” Maud sighed, collapsing on her haunches before the shimmering bay water.

“You said it,” the Ghost replied as he joined her.

“Are we going to worry about the evil storm and the masked pony?”

“Nope,” the Ghost said plainly. “Not until I’ve had eight hours rest in my own bed, then I’ll worry about it.”

“What about Lane?”

“I’ll catch up to him. He’ll slip up, if he’s as bad as I think he is, and when he does I’ll be there to put him away.”

Maud hummed softly to herself as she stared out over the waterfront. The two sat in silence, allowing the ache of their wounds to make itself known as memories of the night returned to them. The groans of a waking mobster broke off the Ghost’s reminiscence before he snapped the cloak against his head, sending him back to unconsciousness.

“Thank you,” Maud finally said.

“It’s what I do.”

“I mean thank you for believing in me.” Maud turned to her companion. “I don’t meet many ponies who appreciate what I do, and even less who respect me as a pony. What you said about being brave was the first time anypony’s ever told me that.”

“I’m kind of upset I’m the one who told you.”

“I’m not.” Maud’s candidness put the Ghost at ease, allowing him to fully relax before he spoke.

“You were a great help tonight,” he admitted. “Once or twice I was concerned we wouldn’t make it through this night alive. I’m serious, it’s like this place is ruled by the law of the jungle.”

“Yes?”

“The Eye isn’t the only dangerous object out there in Equestria. The Maestro is hunting a specific set of artifacts, for reasons unknown, and that gem is one of them. I need to keep it out of her hooves.” He swallowed before meeting Maud’s gaze. “I need you to give me the Eye.”

Maud sat absolutely still, processing the Ghost’s request, and turned her vision to the gem in question. She thought back to the first time she uncovered it, pulling the cold stone from the ruins of the kirin tribe she had been excavating for days. She had fought for it, and even now couldn’t help but feel some measure of resentment for the Ghost’s request. The more she pondered, though, the more images of their recent battle filled her mind. The power the gem could conjure. Silently she returned the Ghost’s gaze.

“You know how long I searched for this, right?”

“I do, and I saw how hard you fought for it.”

“This represents everything I’ve done, everything I’ve struggled to achieve.”

“I disagree,” the Ghost began. “You found it, you dug it up and hauled it out with your own bare hooves, but it’s just a trophy, and a dangerous one that a madpony is hunting. When I said you were brave it wasn’t because you found this gem, it’s because of all you were willing to endure to get it back. The fact you’re sitting here, alive, is what represents everything you’ve done.”

Maud took in the Ghost’s words, visibly weighing her options. She peered deep into the Eye, having returned to its usual yellow glow, and scoffed at it.

“I’ll make you a deal,” she said. “I hold onto it for the remainder of my exhibit, you stick around to make sure she doesn’t come back to take it, and when we’re done it’s all yours.”

“Deal,” the Ghost replied, extending a hoof to be shaken by Maud. “How long will that be?”

“Another week. More than enough time for you to find a clue to the Maestro’s whereabouts.”

“Are you asking me to run security for your exhibit?” The Ghost grinned at the thought.

“No, I think your civilian guise is much more appropriate.”

The Ghost opened his mouth to speak and let it hang there. He paused, twisting his face in confusion at Maud’s words as the revelation hit him. A sly smile crept across his face, earning him a lethargic wink from the monotone pony.

“How’d you know?”

“Maud Sense.” She rose from the dock and helped the Ghost to his hooves. “Let’s get out of here, sounds like we’re about to add ‘event planner’ to your list of skills.”

Bonds of Brotherhood, pt. 1

Seas of azure peered out from beneath heavy eyelids, fluttering in the presence of warm sunlight seeping through thin white curtains. She stretched, rolled onto her back, and gave the faintest yawn as her hooves touched the headboard. Either seconds or minutes passed beyond her weary perception as birdsong and scents of jasmine and lilies hung in the air of the unfamiliar room. To her right came a small click and the door slowly opened to reveal the image of another pony. There was a tray in his hoof.

“Good morning,” he said softly.

“Good morning, Silver,” Rarity hummed. She rolled onto her side to face him and the colorful assortment before her. “Breakfast in bed? You shouldn’t have.”

“Don’t think it’s just for you,” he teased before climbing onto the white sheets. Together they ate from two tall glasses loaded to their brims in layered fruit and cream, topped with a thin lemon slice.

“Dearest, this is wonderful.” Another bite only broadened her smile. “I wasn’t aware parfaits were a specialty of yours.”

“I have to have skills beyond just lurking.”

“And how long did it take you to learn this?”

“Three weeks of brutal trial and error,” Silver said with unwavering confidence, leaving a thin line of cream on his muzzle as he dragged the spoon from it. Rarity giggled at the sight.

“You are incorrigible,” she purred, leaning in to gently lick the cream off his face. Silver snagged her lips with his before she could pull away and the two quickly fell into their tangle of giggles and fruit, basking together in the sunlight. After a while their emotions settled and only the sound of soft breathing could be heard.

“It’s nice to see you like this,” Rarity finally said. “For so long I felt you only ever had time for your work.”

“Not entirely wrong,” Silver chuckled, scooting closer to the unicorn. “Helping Coltistrano back to her hooves has been tough, and this Maestro business has me running all over Equestria trying to stop her.”

“You know…” Rarity said solemnly, eyes drifting across her lover’s scarred form. “If you ever needed help, any at all, you can always come to me.”

“It almost sounds like you’re worried.” Silver’s grin spread across his face before Rarity met his eyes.

“I am.” A hoof reached Silver’s torso and seemed to draw his jest from him. “Manehatten sounded just awful, and what she’s capable of... I want you to be safe.”

His thoughts came to a stop. Slowly, with gentle hooves, he wrapped his forelegs around his bedmate and sank into her embrace. He tried to speak, but failed to find words powerful enough to express the warm flutter in his chest. It reminded him of the days before the cloak, before the island, and before he lived in a world where the only safe harbor was right where he was now. In her embrace.

The moment, however, was broken by the sound of scratching beyond the door. Silver slowly peered over his shoulder and spied a sheaf of letters being forced beneath the threshold. This continued for a few seconds. A light tapping then came from the other side, punctuated by a voice.

“Rusty fetch mail, lots of letters, but Rusty not want to intrude. Lots of love smells, would be rude.”

The diamond dog’s paw-steps could be heard from down the hallway as Silver pressed his hoof along his muzzle. Rarity held back her laugh, just barely keeping it below a whisper as she patted Silver’s cheek lovingly. He gave a sigh.

“Are you alright, dearest?” Rarity’s words were lined with giggles as her lover looked to her with tired eyes.

“Rusty has saved my life and is a wonderful friend,” he recited, as if reminding himself. “But I need to have a talk with him about privacy.”

No longer could Rarity hold back her amusement, releasing her bright laughter as she wreathed the mail in her magic, bringing it to the bed. The pile was stacked neatly and placed on the now empty dining tray for Silver to open.

“You are a paragon of patience,” she teased, earning her a knowing look from Silver as he peeled open the first letter. His face grew tense as he read its contents.

“It’s from Steelhorn.”

“Your minotaur friend? I thought he had left Gorn’s crew.”

“He did, but I asked him to keep me updated on criminal activity he found in his travels. He’s…” Silver trailed off, mouthing the words he read as his eyes scanned the document with intense scrutiny. Rarity could almost feel the tension before he finally spoke again.

“Steelhorn found one of the artifacts. I have to rendezvous with him near Appleloosa, he says there’s danger.”

“Do you need me to come with you?” Rarity’s words were rushed as she began to sit up. “I can pack some essentials, maybe call one of my friends to come with us. We’ve become quite familiar with the town since-”

Her ranting mouth was stopped by Silver’s kiss. She fell into it, feeling relief from her haze of worry before he pulled away.

“Just last night you told me about being foalnapped by changelings, remember? I want you to stay safe, too.”

“I know, dearest, but I still worry. Aren’t you concerned?”

“Steelhorn’s one of the toughest creatures I know,” he said excitedly. “With us two working together, I don’t think there’s anything we can’t handle.”

--

Flame bottles soared overhead and collided with the sandy street leading through the chaotic town of Appleloosa. Ponies of all kinds defended barricades and launched their own attacks of bombs, magic bolts, and pegasi charges. A row of hardy earth ponies held back the advancing mob and beat them down with mighty blows. An explosion rang out. From beside the fireball a light gold earth pony rushed to move the wounded, dragging them as fast as he could to the far end of town.

The Ghost raised his cloak just in time to deflect the oncoming shrapnel, stretching the black cloth across not only himself but the towering, red-haired mass of muscle beside him. They jumped into an alley between the W.E Shippit Delivery Office and Appleloosa’s famed, and now vandalized watering hole, the Stagger & Holmes Bar. They shared a long, fearful look.

“We can handle this, right?” Steelhorn said, barely heard above the sounds of battle.

“Most certainly,” the Ghost replied dryly as he peeked around the corner. “Their leader is staying away from the battle. He’s smart, but I have a plan to get over there.”

“Well I’m-” A blast from above sent wood chips raining down upon the duo. “I’m all ears!”

“You said he’s blind in one eye, right?”

“Has been since we were kids.”

“So, quite simply-” The Ghost whipped out his cloak on instinct, snapping it along a bandit’s brow as he fell. “We get to the top of this bar, you wrap me in my cloak, and the second he turns his blind side to us you launch me like a sling right into his ugly mug. Sound good?”

“I don’t think we have a choice.” Steelhorn hefted the fallen bandit in one hand and launched him into a small crowd of them, scattering them across the sand. He spun back into the alley and offered the Ghost a boost in one swift motion.

Together they climbed the side of the tavern and crested the splintered roof. The battle looked far more desperate from there, the sights of skirmishing ponies clashing all across the entrance to the town, fighting tooth and hoof against the invaders. In the distance was a single minotaur. He stood tall, scarred from previous battles, and wore deep grey fur to match his near ebony horns. In his hand was a small object that expelled fog and a blue glow.

“Alright, on my mark.” The Ghost nearly shouted the words as he was bundled into his own cloak. They watched intently, Steelhorn from atop the bar and the Ghost from within his grasp as the battle around them raged on. Finally, the towering bandit leader turned.

“Now!”

Steelhorn began to swing. The powerful circles he made in the air forced the cloak to the limits of its flexibility, and the Ghost himself could only hope to hold on. After three stomach-flipping passes the Ghost felt himself launched over the town. He soared through the air, desperately trying to stabilize himself as his target came into view. The leader noticed, far too late, the cloth rocket screaming towards him.

They collided in a thundering smack as they both fell to the ground. His artifact rolled from him, and now the Ghost could see the intricate lettering along the glass cube. Fog swirled violently within as the two exchanged glances between it and themselves.

“Surrender, Stoneheart,” the Ghost cried, standing to his hooves. “The Maestro can’t save you from the eyes of the law.”

“Who said I’m the one in need of saving, runt?” Stoneheart’s roar shook loose the sand beneath their hooves as he charged.

The Ghost whipped his cloak along Stoneheart’s nose with little effect, and scrambled to the side just in time to evade the living freight train. The Ghost clambered over to the cube and lifted it. From within a long, sunken face lashed out at the glass, distracting him from the meaty fist colliding with his jaw. He stumbled back and wrapped his hooves in his cloak.

“Last chance, give me the cube.”

“Over my dead body, Ghost. Poppy!”

“Guess who!” Hooves found themselves wrapped around the Ghost’s eyes. He thrashed back, grabbing hold of the strange mass and flinging it to the side. He spied the magenta pony as she bounced on long, slender legs back to Stoneheart as she climbed up his back.

“Ooh! Wassat behind your ear, boss?” Her magic trick produced both the cube and a pair of wicked smiles.

Stoneheart held the cube in one hand as it glowed to life. A ray of biting cold flowed forth from the construct and struck the ground just before the Ghost. The sand began to crystallize, becoming a field of thorny ice that spread around him. He raised his cloak, defending himself from the blast, but did little to stop the chill that crept into his very being. From the town all three heard a roar.

“Brother!” The cry of Steelhorn could be heard from the now breaking line of bandits. The retreating horde rushed past the ensuing struggle and soon Stoneheart and Poppy followed suit. The chill left the Ghost, the thorns of ice a reminder of the battle that took place as they dripped in the sun. He and Steelhorn met along the outskirts of the town.

“Did you get the cube?” Steelhorn’s hopeful gaze fell as he watched snowflakes fall from the abyssal cloak.

“Regrettably no.” The Ghost gave one last, firm shake to cast the white specks to the ground below as he looked across the carnage and destruction of Appleloosa, taking in the damage. “We need a new plan.”

Bonds of Brotherhood, pt. 2

Celestia’s sun began its final descent along the distant horizon. Both sand and sky were set ablaze by its fury one final time before the sphere shifted from yellow to orange, orange to red, and finally sank to reveal the deep violent tapestry of nighttime. So far from the city, and most of civilization, the stars above Appleloosa shined with exceptional brilliance. Ponies who looked to the sky breathed a sigh of relief at their comforting twinkle as they worked to remove as much debris as possible. Lamplight was absent, save for one building closer to the town’s railway station.

Beyond the open window sat a table of weary warriors. The inside of the sheriff’s office was hardly presentable, with chips of wood lodged into the walls and a pile of glass swept into the corner, but there a meeting took place amongst the wreckage. Sheriff Silverstar took a long swig from a cracked bottle.

“That’s all fine and dandy,” he blurted out. “But we’re gonna need real solutions if we want these damned creeps done in for good.”

“But we ain’t got any, sheriff. Every time we try and pin the buggers we’re the ones takin’ the licks.” The light gold pony threw his brown hat onto the table in a huff.

“It’s like they know what we’re doin’ before we do it.” The sheriff took another, longer swig and shot his eyes towards the dark figure at the end of the table. “You been a might quiet, stranger.”

“I’m thinking of a plan. Ultimately, though, we have to know where the bandits make camp before we can do anything.” The Ghost remained unmoving from his seat. He kept his hoof against his chin and hummed to himself while Steelhorn, beside him, moved to address the other two ponies.

“We have to wait for Little Strongheart to return before we do anything. If we send ponies into the desert now they’ll be picked off one by one.”

“But those varmints are on the run!” Silverstar hurled his bottle across the room, kissing the wall with a brutal crash beside the slowly opening door. A young bison stood at the threshold and carried saddlebags along her flanks..

“Is it safe to come in?” She nervously asked.

“Y-Yes, of course,” the gold pony stammered, rising from his seat in a rush. “Sheriff, put yer damn scamper juice away! Did you find anythin’?”

“There are a lot of tracks leading west, deeper into the desert, “ Little Strongheart said, carefully stepping around the broken glass. “Beyond the cliff face there is some kind of structure. Large and round, with camps surrounding it. If the bandits went anywhere it has to be there.”

“Yer not hurt, right?” The gold pony made his way to the buffalo and brushed the glass from her path.

“I’m fine, Braeburn, but my people are concerned. There hasn’t been an enemy like this since the days of Chief Cloudsplitter. Will your... new friends be able to help?”

“‘Bout as good as dirt, ya ask me,” Silverstar said under his tainted breath, earning a firm glare from Braeburn who intervened.

“Sheriff, why don’t you get some shuteye? Been a rough day for us all, I reckon.” He helped the lethargic pony from his chair, stumbling as he did, and led him to the front door. It wasn’t until he passed the threshold did Braeburn let the sheriff find his own bearings as he staggered out into the town. “Please excuse him. The sheriff’s sound on the goose, yes sir, just sweet on the hooch.”

“That much was obvious,” the Ghost said plainly. “But, please, can you tell us any more of what you found?”

“I wasn’t able to get close enough to see more. There are more than just the bandits you fought at the encampment, and their leader seemed furious at the loss.”

“What’s chompin’ at that minotaur’s bit, anyhow?” Braeburn asked, prompting Steelhorn to clear his throat.

“Stoneheart, my brother, has never been one for calm. Since we were young he’s done nothing but pick fights and lash out at anyone who stood up to him. It was a problem back home and seems it still is today.”

“Family reunions must be a peach,” Braeburn chided.

“We fought at the last one, actually,” Steelhorn said with an empty chuckle. “Minotaur clans are unspoken bonds of brotherhood. Nothing, not war or crime or even death can remove that bond. My brother, though, never respected the old ways. When he challenged the clan’s ideals I stepped in, and…”

“You took his sight,” the Ghost stated.

“We were still calves, barely old enough to fight, but they exiled him all the same. I think I’m the only one who still looked for him, afterwards.”

“But now he’s out here sowing havoc everywhere he goes,” Little Strongheart said. “Is he really so cruel?”

“It would seem so.” Steelhorn went silent at that, and the room followed suit. Eventually, the Ghost stood from his seat and walked to Braeburn and Little Strongheart.

“Would you be able to show us where, exactly, this camp is?” The Ghost requested.

“Of course,” Little Strongheart replied, drawing a map from within her bag and passing it to the Ghost, who studied it intently.

“You’ve risked much finding this for us, and I thank you. In the meantime, you should make sure Braeburn get’s home safely.”

“But I wanna come with y’all,” Braeburn interjected.

“The less of us going means more will be here to defend the town should another wave come. Besides,” the Ghost grinned. “You wouldn’t leave her unprotected right now, would you?”

Both the earth pony and buffalo blushed at his statement, bashfully turning from each other and stammered their oppositions before yielding to the Ghost’s request. One after the other, with Braeburn holding open the door, the two made their way out into town, allowing the door to close with a tap against the wood.

“What was that?” Steelhorn asked with a curious smirk.

“I was a love-struck colt once, Steel, I know what being smitten looks like.” The Ghost returned to the table and spread the map across it. “But we need to have a plan of attack. I suggest we take this ridge along the northeast side of the encampment. It’s only a few miles away and will make great cover against any patrols they’ll have.”

“What if the Maestro suspects us? If she’s really out here then we won’t be able to get too close, at least not enough to snatch your artifact.”

“I agree,” the Ghost replied pensively. “The best we’re going to get is some reconnaissance, and we’ll have to move quickly. I’d hate to think what they have planned now that they have the cube. Are you ready to head out?”

Steelhorn gave a firm snort and rose from the table. His horns nearly scraped the already damaged ceiling as the two made their way carefully out the back door and across the desert plains. Together, with the map and moonlight to guide them, they strode out into the night.

The flickering lights of Appleloosa were lost to the ever retreating horizon behind the duo as they galloped across the desert. In the day, the sweltering sands were a scorching wasteland, bearable only by the hardiest of travelers, but by night the plain was alive with the chittering and chirping of wildlife and blanketed by a soothing breeze. The peace and fresh air brought a smile forth from the Ghost as his hooves drummed against the ground. Even with memories of the horrific raid from earlier, this was the first time he had been on the offensive against his new masked enemy, and the memories of Manehatten weeks before only fueled his determination.

Off in the distance another light arose. The duo slowed their gallop to a crouched trot as they came upon the ridge. Slowly they peered over the edge, laying prone, to bear witness to the camp Little Strongheart spoke of. Her words did it little justice.

It was a massive encampment, comparable only to the military forward guard bases from the Ghost’s EUP service. Rows of tents were seen behind a rudimentary wooden wall and on all sides the two could spot dedicated patrols. In the center, as Little Strongheart alluded, was a large structure that was to blame for most of the camp’s light. The formidable column stood four stories tall and was made from sturdy wood and stone. A few banners were hung from its walls, displaying a blackened minotaur head as a logo, and fluttered in the nighttime breeze.

“Whoa,” both the Ghost and Steelhorn said in unison. Together they moved along the ridge to get as close as they could. The landmass jutted out into a natural canopy, hanging high over the rows of illuminated tents below and almost parallel with the top of the center structure. From here, they could see its roof had a massive hole in the center.

“Keep a lookout,” the Ghost ordered before lunging off the ridge into a graceful glide. His cloak fluttered in the breeze before he tucked, curled into a ball, and latched his gloved hooves onto the structure and pulled himself up. He prepared to fling his cloak across the distance before his minotaur companion launched himself on mighty hindlegs across the gap, softening his landing with a roll.

“Not bad,” the Ghost said.

“Same to you,” Steelhorn replied with a huff. “Now what do you think of this place?”

“They seem somewhat militarized. I’m counting forty, maybe fifty tents, fitting two to three ponies, tops.”

“How long have they been out here? To build all of this must’ve taken weeks.”

“Or maybe days. Who knows what sort of resources the Maestro has given to your brother. The “why” is what troubles me.”

“What do you mean,” Steelhorn said, cocking his brow.

“The Maestro has the cube, now, and your brother has this gang. The question is why attack Appleloosa? It was nearly a full-scale siege on a town with no strategic value.”

“Maybe they want to hold it for ransom?” Steelhorn suggested, looking over his shoulder. “Appaloosa, alone, is responsible for most of the food in southern Equestria.”

“A good thought, but with the Maestro it seems it’s never so simple.”

“Stoneheart wants to own it?” Again, Steelhorn peered behind him. “I never thought of him as the dictator type, though.”

“Maybe not, but I suspect…” The Ghost trailed off and swiveled his ears on his head. “Oh no.”

On cue, bandits clad in black came up from the roof’s center ring. Before the duo had time to react they were ensnared by ropes and pulled from their hooves, dragged along the coarse wood and into the structure. They toppled over the edge and into a free fall. The Ghost squirmed out of the rope enough to launch his cloak out, slicing both of their bindings and snagging Steelhorn in its tendrils. What slack remained of the cloak bloomed behind the Ghost in a parachute as the two floated to the dusty floor of their new confines.

A wave of raucous cheering echoed around them. They stood, back to back, as the magenta pony from before took her place on an elevated podium and addressed the ravenous crowd.

“Murderers and miscreants, welcome to the Bloodbowl!”

Author's Note

Would've had these up earlier if FimFiction weren't down. Freaked me out thinking some of the stories here might've gotten lost in the host migration :twilightblush: But thankfully the story continues!

Bonds of Brotherhood, pt. 3

Fine particles of sand and dust danced to the thunderous beat of the screaming crowd around the two intruders. Food was thrown from the stands, wild animals gnashed from their chains, and a hulking figure emerged from the shadows of a private viewing box. Stoneheart clapped his hands together and beat them against his chest, releasing a bellowing warcry that was met by the returning call of his forces.

“Look, there.” The Ghost turned Steelhorn’s gaze to the viewing box, where a second figure remained in the shadows. The only trace of them was a metallic sheen, glistening in the firelight. His attention was caught by the returning yell of Poppy.

“Now class, the big boss has given us one rule, and one rule only. When someone comes onto our turf that doesn’t belong, what do we do?”

“TEAR THEM UP! TEAR THEM UP!”

“And that is exactly what we’re gonna do tonight! So put your hooves, claws, and hands together for tonight's entertainment. The terrifying, the meddling, the “makes you wanna pound his pretty face to mush” Ghost of Coltistrano!”

Venomous ‘boos’ ejected from the crowd. Stoneheart released a hardy laugh and reveled at the sight. His companion, however, remained still.

“I’m not liking this,” Steelhorn whispered.

“She called me out personally, how do you think I feel?” The Ghost kept his eyes trained on Stoneheart and the second figure. “The Maestro’s up there, which means we still have a chance to get the cube.”

“While they have a chance to rip us apart.”

“We’ll have to play along. Put on a show.”

“You serious?” Steelhorn shifted his irritated gaze to his friend.

“Unfortunately. If we can coax Stoneheart down here to challenge us, we’ll have a clear shot at the Maestro.”

“What about that crazy black storm thing she has?”

“I’ll improvise,” the Ghost made his words as convincing as he could. A metallic clunking came from the rusted gate before them as it rose. From within the dark passageway the duo could see the steam of hot breath and a single yellow eye piercing the shadows. It’s growling shook their insides.

“For our first round of death-dealing distraction, all the way from the depths of Griffonstone territory. It’s the scourge of Guto’s line, the descendant of decimation, the fearsome Arimaspi!”

The iron gate was torn down by massive grey hands. A towering ram emerged from the darkness, long and matted fur covering it’s entire form, save for two long and curled horns just above it’s yellow eye. Before the duo it stood, twice Steelhorn’s height, and slowly stamped towards them.

“I’ll get around its neck and bring it down,” the Ghost blurted out hurriedly. “Just be ready to smack its jaw.”

Steelhorn barely had time to nod in agreement before the arimaspi’s head came down upon him. He rolled just in time to avoid the thunderous impact upon the sand, sending dust skyward in the explosion of force. Steelhorn recovered and lunged at the beast. He gripped the ram’s curled horns, barely able to get his hands around them, and held tight as he wrestled the beast.

The Ghost rolled underneath the arimaspi and lashed out with his cloak. Small cuts broke out along the legs and abdomen of the creature, and a howl of pain echoed through his head. The arimaspi’s tail, however, whipped between his legs and struck the Ghost, sending him sliding along the sand. He watched as Steelhorn was flung into the air and onto the ground as the creature reared back and howled.

The crowd shared their enthusiasm. Their cheers nearly drowned out the roar of the arimaspi as it charged the duo, horns out front and ready to smash its prey. The Ghost charged back, sending his cloak to snag one of the horns and pull him onto the back of the beast. It reared up again, desperately clawing at itself to remove the Ghost, but another tendril grasped the second horn and his impromptu set of reins held the creature at bay.

“Get ready!” Steelhorn heard the Ghost’s command and braced himself beneath the arimaspi’s towering form.

The Ghost, lining himself between the horns, slingshot himself out between them. He used the force of the maneuver to help throw the creature off balance. The arimaspi toppled forward, it’s eye making contact with Steelhorn as the minotaur pushed into the falling face of the beast with all his strength. The mighty headbutt, horns and all, sent a violent crack through the air.

The arimaspi went limp, left only to breathe deeply as it slumped to the earth below. The crowd was silent. Not even murmuring rose from the lips of the bandits until the roaring laughter of their leader filled the arena. He flagged down some of his followers, commanding them to clear the field.

“What an incredibly dissatisfying outcome, folks,” Poppy announced. “But that’s just round one, and I think we’ve given them enough of a rest, dontcha think?”

More “boos”, accompanied by food and debris, were launched at the duo. Poppy giggled and continued to orate.

“Yeah, I think so, too. But now!” The torchlight of the area went dim as flames were snuffed out, one by one, and Poppy’s voice turned from raucous to grave. “Now the boss is pleased to introduce his latest addition to our little band. Once they were the night’s chosen. Elite warriors of the moon, exiled to the wastes for brutality only we could appreciate. If you thought the Ghost was king of the shadows then get ready for Princess Luna’s shame, the disgraced defenders of darkness, the Forsaken Battalion!”

The beating of leathery wings was all that could be heard. The rushing forms of darkness, illuminated scarcely by what little light remained, swarmed around the duo. Steelhorn felt a strike against his jaw, and the Ghost was pushed to the ground. Again and again the force of shadows would lash out at them and each strike landed like lightning.

“What are these guys?”

“They’re former Night Guard, Luna’s personal elite.” The Ghost swiped at the shifting shadows around him with his cloak. “They’re the best Equestria has to offer, but they’re not monsters.”

“Whatever they are, they’re formation is too tight,” Steelhorn returned, guarding with his arms and swiping the air with his sharp horns. “I can’t even see them.”

“I can,” the Ghost said, eyes glowing a faint white as the world around him turned monochrome. In his color-drained view he could spy the practiced form of an entire squadron of bat ponies. They soared with grace and struck with fury. Try as he might, the Ghost struggled to attack the crowd, moving as one against the shade of night.

“If you can see them, then we have to break their ranks,” Steelhorn said.

“Good plan, but how are we supposed to do that?”

“Same way we did last time.” The Ghost turned to his companion and was met with an outstretched hand. He smiled and climbed into it, rolling himself into a ball and offering the length of cloak to Steelhorn. The Ghost’s eyes followed the now visible cloud of ponies as they soared in their pattern around the arena. As they charged again he found his mark.

“Now!” Steelhorn spun the Ghost like a sling and launched him out in front. The improvised missile tore through the ranks of the bat ponies and sent them tumbling to the ground. The Ghost opened into a glide and, before the night guard could recover, joined the two-pronged assault between him and Steelhorn. Hooves were swung against skulls, horns bashed ponies aside, and the Ghost’s cloak dragged many of the Forsaken Battalion to their impending doom before the duo met in the middle of the carnage.

The lights returned to the arena, but the laughter of Stoneheart did not. The minotaur fumed from his place in the viewing box. Poppy looked back to him in worry, hesitant to continue her little game of make-believe announcer. From the arena, though, Steelhorn spoke up.

“So this is it, brother? You send your minions to kill us but you won’t even do it yourself. What happened to honorable combat, like father taught us?”

“Don’t speak of him,” Stoneheart roared, breaking his composure. “Father was an old and withering cow, hardly worth the dirt he walked on. I thought, if anyone, you would see how worthless his lessons were to us.”

“I see that you lack spirit,” Steelhorn said, beating his chest. “You may have influence over these drifters, but your search for luxury has dulled your horns.”

“How dare you!” Stoneheat stomped forward, but was held at bay by Poppy.

“Boss, he’s just rilin’ you up.” Even with her unique height, Poppy still struggled to restrain the towering minotaur. “It’s a trick!”

“I won’t allow my wimpy brother to insult my strength!”

“Then calm yourself and think,” the Maestro said from her shadowed chair. “If you wish to challenge them, take the cube and do it quickly.”

“Pewter-faced pebble, I don’t need your vile magics.”

“Your failure to take Appleloosa says otherwise.”

“Shut it, pony,” Stoneheart seethed. “A bargain with you is a bargain with Tirek himself. I am fed up with your tentacles choking the life from this operation. Poppy, announce to the gang their leader will end this show personally.”

“Yes, boss,” Poppy said somberly, watching as Stoneheard descended the stairs. “Alright, everyone, the boss has decided to give you a special treat tonight. It’s brother on brother in this final match to decide, once and for all, who is the toughest ‘taur in all of Appleloosa. So quit your grinnin’ and drop your linen, because it’s a battle to the death!”

In a single bound Stoneheart leaped from the viewing box and landed, hooves first, onto the sand below. He slowly stomped toward the duo, and Steelhorn stood to his full height in preparation for the battle.

“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” The Ghost asked.

“I’ve been ready since he first left home,” Steelhorn replied, unmoving. “Use this chance to get the cube back, I’ll keep him and the crowd busy.”

The Ghost stepped aside and allowed his friend to approach the fuming enemy before him. They met in the middle of the ring.

“You’re going to regret searching for me, brother,” Stoneheart’s last word came out with venom.

“I could never regret that. You’re my brother, and I want to bring you home.”

“Back to what? Weary old sages and bickering clans? Had I known escape would only cost me an eye, Steelhorn, I would’ve torn it out myself long ago.”

“Then at least stop this madness. I don’t know what the Maestro has promised you, but it’s not worth the lives of strangers. There is no honor in what that vile pony is doing.”

“At last we agree,” Stoneheart smiled. “But it drew you out, didn’t it? Now I can finally finish what you started when you openly betrayed me. When you chose the clan over me!”

“Are you forcing me to fight you?” Steelhorn asked calmly.

“Yes.” A strike landed on Steelhorn’s jaw, and once again cheering filled the arena.

Bonds of Brotherhood, pt. 4

Each blow coaxed another cheer from the bloodthirsty crowd. Battered limbs, bloody mouths, and scraped knees decorated the two minotaurs battling it out in the arena’s center stage. Steelhorn struck his brother’s stomach with a long knee, bringing a river of red from his mouth. In return, Stoneheart clasped his hands on his opponent's shoulders and swung his horns into the exposed jawline. Again and again the brothers cast bloody blows upon each other.

“Stand down, brother,” Steelhorn said, gasping for breath. “I won’t ask again.”

“Then don’t.” Stoneheart charged head on, and the two met in a clash of hands and horns. They locked together in their struggle and pushed with all their might. Razor-sharp horns clacked against each other, threatening to rend the other with each pass the lethal limbs made. Steelhorn released his brother and, with both hands, struck the underside of his jaw and pushed him back.

The Ghost took this opportunity to slink around the side of the arena and up into the viewing box. Carefully he avoided the magenta mare, who was far too focused on the brutality before her to notice him crest the stairs. There he saw the Maestro, cube in hoof, adorned in a wicked grin, though his eyes drifted to the cloth bag around her neck.

“Evening,” she mocked.

“Likewise,” he returned. “First you consort with changeling spies, then Manehatten mobsters, and now the worst Appleloosa has to offer. Anypony else would say your erratic endeavors are just for fun.”

“But you know better, of course?”

“Of course.” The Ghost took a step forward, eyes now fixed on the chilling construct in the Maestro’s hoof. “You must have some purpose. A buyer, maybe? Maybe somepony you want removed or dethroned?”

“And why would I want any of that?” The Maestro placed a hoof to her chin. “Surely, you can’t think my goals are so trivial.”

“No, I’m sure you have some lofty idealism, judging by the outfit.” The Ghost waved a sarcastic hoof between himself and his enemy. “It takes one to know one.”

The Maestro gave a sinister chuckle at the comment. Her eyes fluttered beneath her mask, alternating her attention between the Ghost and the battle in the arena. She stood from her seat, leaving the cube behind.

“And I take it you’re here to appeal to my morality? Maybe convince me to use what power and influence I have for the “common good”, yes?”

“That sounds infinitely more difficult than bringing you to justice, but if you’re offering I won’t turn it down.”

“Allow me to broaden your perspective, Ghost,” she began, now fully engaged with the fight beyond. “There are over two hundred of the most vile and corrupt ponies in Equestria lining those seats. I pulled that arimaspi from the depths of Griffinstone. The night guard practically begged to fight for me. They, and so many others are willing to fight for me because we understand a simple truth.”

“That if you’re going to lose, it might as well be to Equestria’s charming vigilante?”

“That there will be evil in this world, whether you like it or not.”

“I can think of six mares who would take offense to that statement.”

“Then they would be blind to all that has happened. Nightmare Moon’s return, the invasion of Canterlot, Tirek’s rampage? All wild acts of evil, springing up from nothing and without warning. It is a fact, Ghost, and one that seems to elude you.”

“And seemingly justifies your criminal endeavors,” he shot back. “How convenient that the universe would designate you “evil” and I “good”, as if choice has nothing to do with it.”

“Do you think the brothers chose this fate?” The Maestro passed a hoof over the two warriors. “Did they wake up one day and decide their allegiance? Or perhaps circumstances lead them to the choices they made.”

“You mean fate.” The Ghost squinted at the word, staring the Maestro down.

“I have long studied fate. It’s how I knew to begin my search with the Heart of the Tantabus and how I knew to attack Appleloosa. It drew you out like it did your companion.”

“So you’re using Stoneheart, like you used Alate and Victory Lane.”

“Of course.”

“Why? So that you could kill us in this pit?”

“No, so that you could escape to stop me.” The Maestro retreated back to her seat and took the cube in her hoof. “Evil exists, and it forces goodness to stand against it. That’s the only way battles are won. It’s the only way to save the world.”

A ray of frost enveloped the viewing box. Icicles sprouted from the walls and floor, bursting into shards of cursed ice that shot towards the Ghost. Draped in his cloak, he dodged through the magical shrapnel and retreated to the edge of the box.

“Tell me Ghost, have you uncovered the secret of this cube? I’ll admit even I had trouble with it.”

“Not so hard to guess after you’ve seen it’s face,” he said from behind his cloak. “But I fail to see how a trapped wendigo helps “save the world”, as you say.”

“Of course you wouldn’t, not everypony has a penchant for puzzles.” At that the Maestro fired again, filling the viewing box with ice and forcing the Ghost back into the arena. Poppy ducked as the cursed ice blasted forth and across the sand below.

At this the crowd began shouting frantically. Steelhorn spared a moment to look with bloodshot eyes before taking a cheap shot to the back of the head, stumbling toward the recovering Ghost. They stood back to back, flanked by their encroaching enemies.

“Improvising went well, huh?” Steelhorn asked with ragged breath.

“It’s about to go even worse.”

The two squared up and prepared for the dual-edged onslaught. Stoneheart dripped blood with each murderous step toward his brother and swung his mighty limb toward him. The Maestro glided out from the destroyed viewing box and rained her frozen fury down upon the Ghost. Bandits and criminals began to flee from the stadium at the sight of such magic and ferocity, trampling each other and running out into the camp beyond. The Maestro beat her wings and charged the Ghost.

He dove beneath the masked missile and launched his cloak around her midsection. With a tug she was yanked from the air and cast to the earth, losing both the cube and her breath on impact. The glowing object tumbled between them both. They hesitated, waiting for the other to make the first move, before they dove for the cube in unison. They clashed with furious hooves and careful strikes. It was the first time the Ghost bore witness to the Maestro’s impressive combat prowess as she weaved through the cloak’s limbs and deflected his strikes. She watched him, eyes never once flinching as their exchange continued. A kick from the Ghost caught between her legs, and with a twist she stumbled from her hooves and onto the ground, allowing him to leap over her and snag the cube.

Without missing a beat they faced each other and unleashed the power of their artifacts. Streams of vivid darkness spewed from the mouth of the bag and clashed with the ray of cold in a terrible display of power. It’s sight was enough to draw the attention of both brothers as they stood in awe. Sheer force turned the sand to glass beneath them. The dark power pushed hard against the faltering ice and drove the Ghost back.

Steelhorn returned his brother’s surprise gift with a strike of his own, sending Stoneheart flat against the ground and charged. The rampaging minotaur shoulder checked the Maestro and sent her flying into the wall of the arena. Steelhorn ran to the Ghost and helped him to his hooves, oblivious to the Maestro as she recovered and, with a face of pure malice, once again fired the dark energy forward.

“Steel, look out!” The Ghost stepped in front of his friend and took the blast, full force. The sensation was excruciating. His every bone seemed to snap and twist, looping around themselves in a sickening dance that shot pure agony through his mind. The power of the ray dug deeper into him. Soon he could feel its influence in every part of himself. His muzzle lengthened, his tail split in two, and a battle between wings and claws raged over which would protrude from his back. The Maestro’s cackling was all that he could hear, until a familiar tightness enveloped him.

The cloak engulfed him. It’s tendrils soothed his seizing body, forcing it back into its proper shape and allowing the power to flow around him. It’s surface turned a deeper black and before long he returned to his true form. The Ghost staggered and fell to his knees. The Maestro prepared a second blast, condensing the swirling energy, before Steelhorn raised the cube and fired a single icicle toward her. A metallic clang echoed through the arena and the Maestro fell against the ground. Shards of ice fell off her body as she struggled to move. Her wings beat once, twice, then lifted her from the ground as she limply flew away. Steelhorn fired a few desperate shots but surrendered to his own burning muscles.

“Y-You okay?” He said, turning to the wounded Ghost.

“N-No,” he coughed. “I think my stomach is in my lung.”

“Boss? Boss?!” The cry came from behind the weary duo. Poppy stood over the sleeping body of Stoneheart. She shook him furiously, tears dripping from her eyes to his chest. Again she called out to him.

“Boss! Come on, wake up. Please be okay.”

“Stand aside,” the Ghost said, supported by Steelhorn. “We’re going to take him in.”

“Oh, no you’re not! You wackos have done nothin’ but hurt him.” Poppy took a crouched stance over the body of Stoneheart. “If one of you so much as breathes on him I’ll eat your hooves for breakfast!”

“He’s caused pain and horror wherever he’s stepped!” Steelhorn’s yell nearly knocked Poppy to the ground. “This gang, that cube, Appleloosa! Everything he’s done has been nothing short of evil. I-I have to take him back! I... I can’t leave him here!”

“Steel,” the Ghost wheezed. “He’s a victim, a victim of the Maestro’s manipulations. Take him somewhere he’ll be safe.”

“He’ll be safe at home, back with the clan! Don’t... don’t try to tell me what’s right for my own brother!”

“Then take your own advice and do what’s right for him.”

“I am! I know I am. I didn’t want it to be like this but it... it just is.”

“But you have the chance to be different,” the Ghost said softly. “I don’t know if fate brought you two together like this, but you can choose to make it better.”

“Stop telling me... He’s…” At that Steelhorn fell to his knees, ignorant to the pain his fresh wounds surged through him. He said nothing more and merely looked over the unconscious form of his brother. The Ghost limped toward Poppy as she bared her teeth.

“Back off, buddy.”

“I’m not going to hurt either of you, but I know a place you can both go. Someplace he’ll be safe.”

“Why are you helpin’ us now, huh?”

“Because the real monster flew away just moments ago, and Stoneheart was just caught up in her evil.” The Ghost held out a hoof to Poppy, who recoiled at it. “I can’t let you get away with your crimes, but I can promise to take you somewhere safe. Where you’ll be together.”

“And if I say “no”?”

“Please don’t.” The Ghost’s pleading eyes landed upon Poppy. She paused in the moment, looking over Stoneheart’s numerous wounds and wincing at the thought of his pain. Steelhorn, as far as she could tell, was reduced to a bruised and inconsolable mess. She weighed the prospect in her head.

“We’ll be safe? He will be safe?”

“Yes.”

“And you won’t take him back?”

“I won’t.”

“Then…” Poppy took one last look over Stoneheart and sighed. “Fine. But I’m stayin’ with him. All the way.”

The Ghost gave a weak smile and turned to Steelhorn. With a gloved hoof he nudged his shoulder.

“Can you carry him back to town? We can get him on a prison train in the morning.”

Steelhorn nodded, his once-vacant expression filling with what little emotion he could muster. He stood, walked carefully to the body of his brother, and slung him over his shoulder. They made their way out through the camp. It was a ghost town, ransacked of any valuables and with only a scant few bandits remaining, who kept their distance from the group. After a few moments they left the perimeter of the camp and walked out into the desert. All the while, the Ghost kept one eye on the prisoners and another on the cube. It swirled in his hoof. The chill that emanated from it had withered now, its occupant no doubt exhausted from such exertion, and could only produce a dull numbness that barely breached the glove.

The Ghost felt a twinge of uncertainty in his stomach. He, for the first time, had received an uncomfortable glimpse into the Maestro’s plans, and the very thought shook his core. He could no longer write her off as some gang leader or neerdowell. After tonight, his mind was fixed on how little he actually knew about his new enemy, and his heart trembled at what she might accomplish. Memories of the dark assault, his twisting frame, and his cloak’s desperate defense mechanism would ensure he found no rest tonight. Once again, he felt below water.

Mystic Metal, pt. 1

“Don’t come any closer! I’ll whack ya’ good if-” He landed with a thud, surrendering to the powerful blow against his head. The midday sun was the last thing he saw before slipping into unconsciousness. His attacker took a few steps forward, over the other limp bodies, and gave an airy chuckle.

“First ancient solar gemstones, now this bundle of obscure ores. One of these days, Maud, somepony’s going to think you’re up to something.”

“What if I am? Maybe I have a mask and costume in this cart, too,” the grey mare responded with a drone. A few tugs secured her cargo in place against the sturdy cart it sat upon as the black-clad stallion approached.

“What even is this stuff? To attack you on the road seems bold, almost too bold for the kind of rabble out this way.”

“My former professor wants me to identify it, and clearly so do others.” She yoked herself to the cart and began her march. “Are you coming?”

“Give me a minute.” The Ghost took his time disrobing. Carefully, he slipped his well-worn uniform into a dark grey saddlebag hanging off the side of the cart before flinging it over his haunches. Twice he shook the satchels to cover the patchwork of fur and scars that lined his back. Once he was satisfied, he swept his argent mane back and stood beside Maud.

“I’ve never had a stallion strip for me before,” she monotoned with a sly smirk.

“Oh, yes, tired and dripping sweat is sure to rile up the mares,” he teased back.

“Clearly you don’t know most mares.”

The road before them was lined with brilliant verdant trees. Birdsong rode on the gentle breeze and seemed to echo across the entire valley, coaxing new tunes from other birds who listened. The orchestra of nature filled Maud and Silver with a dull warmth. Further down the road the woods thickened, and Celestia’s sunlight beamed through the green canopy above them, painting the road like stars in the night sky. Still, the birdsong flew.

They approached a clearing. The archway of vine and brush stood as a portal to the outside field, a perfect frame of shaded leaves and brilliant sunlight. As they passed the threshold they stood beholden to a sight that brought a smile from even Maud. Just down the hill, across the glittering waters of the river, stood the small town of Ponyville.

“Been a long time since I’ve come through here,” Silver said with a content sigh. “I didn’t know you lived here.”

“I don’t,” Maud returned. “I live just over there. Ponyville-adjacent.”

With firm hoofsteps Maud carefully made her way down the slope of the hill. Silver backed himself against the cart to help, but the sheer weight of it reminded him of Maud’s unusual strength. Nevertheless, he struggled to assist, and before long they walked toward the large bridge leading into Ponyville’s town center.

“Good day, Miss Maud.”

“Good morning, doctor. Nice to see you brought a friend!”

“Hello there, Maud. Thank you so much for fixing the house’s foundation! Why, we might’ve slid right down the hill if it weren’t for you.”

Maud simply waved at the barrage of attention. Silver, though, was stunned.

“Cheery,” he stated.

“Ponyville’s like that,” Maud replied. “Takes a bit to get used to, but after a while you learn they’re good ponies. Don’t you have something like this in Coltistrano?”

“Well, ponies there are friendly, but not so much like this.” Silver motioned to a frizzy pink pony in the distance, bouncing and singing around an equally pink cart adorned with flags and streamers. The two ponies she performed for applauded and cheered. The pony in question, however, turned to meet his gaze and grew an intimidating smile. In an instant the pony charged the duo and wrapped her hooves around Maud.

“You’re back!” The pony screamed to the high heavens. “You start living in Ponyville-adjacent for all of five seconds and then you’re off on another super secret rock adventure! Did you do anything cool, huh? And... oh my gosh, you made a new friend!”

“Silver, this is my sister, Pinkie.” Maud’s words were unimpeded by Pinkie who, literally, hung off of her. “Pinkie, this is a friend I met in Manehatten. Silver Spade.”

“Well, Pinkie, it’s a pleasure to me-”

“You have a double initial, too?! My name is “Pinkie Pie”, and your name is “Silver Spade”! That’s “PP” and “SS”, and that means we’re double-initial buddies!” Pinkie reached into her flopping curls and produced a blue and gold sticker with the words “Double Initial Buddies” before slapping it onto Silver’s bag. Finally, she took his hoof and shook. “A pleasure to meet ya’.”

Pinkie, at last, relinquished Silver’s hoof and left him speechless. Maud gave a weak laugh and nudged Silver.

“Pinkie takes a little more to get used to.”

“Aw, don’t say that, Maud.” Pinkie interjected. “Everypony deserves a warm welcome, especially in Ponyville! Do you know anypony in town, Silver? Any way I can help you get around?”

“I know Rarity lives here. If you could point me in the-”

“Oh my gosh! Are you...?” Pinkie’s face contorted with the force of a suppressed cheer, eyes bright with glee. “She’s just down the road at the Carousel Boutique. You’ll know it when you see it. It looks like a carousel!”

“Well, thank you, Pinkie,” Silver said through an irresistible laugh. “Maud, are you gonna be okay on your own?”

“Go see Rarity. If anypony can handle my sister, it’s yours truly.”

Maud trotted alongside her now bouncing polar opposite as the two continued through town and out of sight, leaving Silver alone on the side of the colorful street. Again, he was met with the smiling faces of ponies who greeted him along his path. It was a pleasant feeling. Far too often Silver found himself at the business end of somepony’s hoof while on the trail of a criminal or saboteur, but a strange tingling sense of relief filled his chest and drained him of tension with every smile he saw. It reminded him of Coltistrano when he was a child. Happy and free.

Breath escaped his lips in a pleasant sigh as he continued down the road with renewed vigor. Rhythmic hoofsteps clopped along the road and carried him to the eastern part of town. He spied a purple flag peaking just over thatched rooftops. Another corner and Silver found himself in the presence of Carousel Boutique, chuckling at the accuracy of the shop’s title.

“She wasn’t kidding,” he laughed. With confident steps he approached and gently pushed upon the door. A small ring announced his arrival, at which he gently doffed his saddlebags and waited. Hurried steps could be heard from up the stairs.

“Oh! Forgive me, I was just in the middle of a new order,” Rarity blurted out, pulling stray threads from her coat and straightening herself. “Now, welcome to the Carousel Boutique, where every garment is chic, unique, and magnifique! Would you like a fitting or... Silver!”

Rarity bounded down the rest of the stairs and launched into Silver’s waiting hooves. They twirled in the center of the display floor, giggling as Rarity squeezed with all her excitement. Silver placed a peck on her cheek.

“Dearest! I didn’t know you were in town, I would’ve prepared something. And you’ve caught me looking dreadful.”

“Thread-ful, you mean?” Silver’s pun earned a groan from the unicorn in his forelegs.

“Of all the things I missed about you, your witticism wasn’t one.” Rarity caught his lips in hers, humming at the contact. “How long are you staying? Or is this... work?”

“Just helping Maud get back home safe, thieves on the road. Was thinking of shaking up at the hotel for the-”

“Oh no, no, no, no! If you’re to stay, you’ll be staying with moi.” Her eyes fluttered as she smirked. “A fine arrangement, no?”

“If you insist.” Silver returned her alluring advances, pressing his muzzle to hers.

“Wonderful.” She spun out from his embrace and returned to the foot of the stairs. “Although, I am still on the clock, as it were, with much work that needs done. Oh! This would be a wonderful opportunity to introduce you to my friends. Wouldn’t that be lovely?”

“Meet the Elements of Harmony?” Silver’s words trembled with a hint of excitement.

“Of course. It’ll have to happen someday if we’re to be an item. Besides, it’s only fair after my wild introduction to you and yours.”

“You wound me,” Silver teased, holding a sarcastic hoof to his heart. “It was life changing. An adventure! A tale for the ages, and one to flaunt to all your friends and family.”

“Oh, trust me, I already have.” Rarity giggled and stuck her tongue out at Silver before turning to the stairs. “Now, I do still have work and can’t afford to be distracted, no matter how delicious he may be. Will you be ready by six? I may have a surprise for you after, too.”

Rarity ascended the stairs, swaying her hips just slightly as she peered over the violet locks on her shoulder. Silver’s heart did a flip in his chest as the pure white mare disappeared into her work room. Heat filled his cheeks. He once more donned his saddlebags and stepped out the door and into the brilliant sunlight. He shook his head, smiling, and took off in the direction of Ponyville-adjacent.

Author's Note

I've decided to release parts individually on a weekly basis. My usual schedule has shifted a bit and this is a much more convenient way to deliver content instead of trying to force an entire story in two weeks or less.

Mystic Metal, pt. 2

“Maud? Are you here?”

A beam of light followed Silver as he trekked down into the cavern. Gems glimmered around him. Blues and pinks and greens danced within his vision and guided him deeper into the welcoming earth, farther along the dug out path until he reached a surprisingly plain wooden door. The rich tan wood stood in contrast to the dark grey rock that framed it. Silver stepped onto the pink welcome mat beneath him and tapped twice. There was no response.

“Maud?” Silver called out. “I wanted to make sure you made it home safe. You are here, right?”

The door swung open and startled Silver. Before him stood Maud, adorned in the most peculiar headgear he had ever laid eyes upon. Glass lenses were suspended from the strap around her head, which bunched up her mane, and magnified her dull gaze. Other metal arms reached out like spider legs and carried lenses of different colors like a bizarre crown. She blinked slowly.

“Come on in, I was just working.”

Silver took a hesitant step into Maud’s abode. With each step, though, he was graced with a larger view of the grotto Maud called home. There was verdant grass, and a waterfall which decorated the natural spring it poured into. A large lavender canvas sheltered Maud’s possessions and formed a picturesque camp home, accentuated by the rock paths she had built. Past a descent toward the spring was a large workstation. Lumps of the mystery ore were laid out across the table, some cleaner than others, and glimmered in the sunlight that leaked from the grotto’s overhang.

“Whoa,” Silver whistled, taking in the sight. “This place is amazing.”

“My friend Starlight helped me find it.” Maud continued down along one of the rock paths to her station. “I am fine, by the way, Pinkie was more than willing to escort me home.”

“I could tell. So, are you working on the ore?” Silver followed behind Maud.

“I am,” she began. “It’s metallic in nature and has much in common with iron in a refined state. After a cross-section analysis I found the material to be uniform throughout and continued to test its thermal and molecular conductance. What I found is honestly remarkable. I had to measure it in a scalar quantity due to its unique molecular geometry.”

“Right…” Silver said, slowly.

“Paracausal conductivity of the substance can only be detected on the planck scale. Every instrument I have is reading extreme insulative properties within the ore, even in its unrefined state. I’ve been all across Equestria, and beyond, and I’ve never seen anything like this.”

“Of course,” Silver said with a confused smile. “And your vocabulary is as sharp as ever.”

“Sorry, I’m excited,” Maud droned with a small grin. “All substances are either conductors or insulators. Paracausal, or magical, conductivity is in everything except this.”

“You mean it resists magic?”

“It hardly even interacts with it, even on the most basic level.”

Silver approached the table and gazed upon the substance. Now that it was clear of rock and filth he could see the strange, almost copperish glint of its surface. It held a polished finish but its surface was dull. He hovered his hoof over the substance.

“Is it safe to touch?”

“If it wasn’t, I would’ve been dead by now.” Maud walked over and held a piece of the ore in her bare hoof. “It doesn’t register magic. I can’t test the full extent of its resistances, but as far as I can tell magic just... can’t breach it.”

“Is it dangerous?” Silver cocked an eyebrow to Maud.

“It might leave a big lump on your head if I threw it at you, but no. As far as metal goes it’s pretty soft. Not much good as a weapon.”

“Incredible,” Silver mumbled as he picked up a piece. It was surprisingly light and smooth. Even through the specks of earth still clinging to its unassuming surface Silver could feel a strange numbness. It was dull, tingling, and hardly reached past the frog of his hoof but the sensation was enough to cause him some discomfort. Maud leaned over his shoulder and looked at the ore.

“Ponies are magical. You’re feeling your innate magic being pushed away. Weirded me out, too.”

“What are you going to do with it?”

“I plan on taking some to Twilight and Starlight. With them I can test just how resistant the ore is, maybe even confirm my suspicions about it.” Maud took a satchel from beneath the table and loaded it with some ore, books, and supplies. “Would you like to come with me?”

“Yeah, absolutely.” Silver stepped beside her and followed to the door, holding it open for Maud to step through. In just a few moments they stepped out from the glimmering grotto and into the open air of midday Ponyville.

“So, what sort of suspicions did you have?”

“My professor used to speak about certain ancient substances made by the first pony civilizations. A unicorn kingdom to the north experimented with ways to enhance their powers through metallurgy and alchemy.”

“The Crystal Empire?”

“Or what it used to be.” The two passed by Cafe Hay as the Castle of Friendship came into view. “The name was lost, but stories about how they transmuted the earth into different substances have been studied for centuries. One tale says an experiment went wrong and led to the invention of orichalcum.”

“Can’t imagine a metal that resisted magic was too useful to them, huh?”

“Surprisingly, no. Some might have continued making it, but as far as metals go this is one of the rarest out there. Even my professor had never seen it until recently.” The two ponies stepped past the Hay Burger and came face to face with the towering crystal castle. Silver put his foreleg in front of Maud to stop her.

“Hey, so before we go in, I want you to know things might get a little... teary.”

“How so?”

“Twilight knows me from before. You know, before before. I haven’t told her or Shining Armor I’m still around yet and, uh, I’d like to be-”

“Delicate?”

“Exactly.” Silver turned from Maud and faced the glistening tower. “Unless you want to go first?”

“At least I’ll learn more about you. There’s only so much I can deduce from noble facades.”

“Never let anypony say you don’t have amazingly invasive eyes,” Silver quipped.

“Oh, stop it, you.” Maud put a mocking hoof to her cheek and gestured at Silver before dropping the act and approaching the door. She knocked three times before Silver joined her and a muffled voice could be heard from within the structure. With each passing second it grew louder, punctuated by a click of the knob.

“Coming! I’m coming! Sorry, the castle is just so big and I still haven’t really learned my way around. You’d think there’d be a map or something. Oh, Maud!” The pale pink pony pushed past the door and embraced Maud, deep purple locks falling over the latter’s face. The unicorn looked to Silver and smiled.

“Hi there! I’m Starlight Glimmer, Twilight’s sorta student and friendship counselor at the school.”

“Silver,” he said, shaking her hoof. “We were wondering if Twilight was here. There are some things we need help with.”

“Oh, uh... yeah. Um, let me just call for her.”

“Is something wrong?” Maud said.

“Oh no! No, no, no, no, she’s just, uh... doing science. Please come in, though. Twilight! Twilight you have company!”

Starlight’s voice echoed down the towering hallways of the castle. From the end of one, scaled feet tapped across the immaculately polished floor and a small, soot covered purple dragon stepped before them. He licked his claw and extinguished the flame on his green fringe.

“Hi there, I’m Spike. She’s on her way,” he deadpanned. From the middle of the group came a burst of violet energy, leaving an audible pop in the air. The purple alicorn before them huffed and ran a frantic hoof through her mane. She straightened herself, stretched her wings back, then relaxed as she gave a long sigh of contentment. Her lavender eyes gazed upon Silver.

“H-Hi, I’m Twilight Sparkle! You probably knew that, though,” she nervously laughed. “Sorry for the wild entrance, just messing with an experiment. I told Starswirl I was really busy, but come on, who can resist a metacausal analysis of pseudo-magical fields, right?”

“You are just as I remember you,” Silver chuckled.

Twilight’s sheepish grin slowly faded as she took in the stallion’s visage. She gasped, then mumbled, and finally clasped her mouth with her hooves before she found the power of speech once again.

“Oh my gosh, Silver? But I thought... there was a trial. I didn’t…” Her hooves found themselves around Silver’s neck as she relented. Her embrace was returned, and soon after Silver’s tears began to streak down his face. Starlight looked on, quizzically.

“Did I miss-”

“Shush,” Maud quietly interrupted as Silver and Twilight broke their embrace.

“What happened?” Twilight managed to ask. “Where did you go? Have you talked to Shining yet?”

“That’s a story for later, I promise. Right now, though,” Silver said as he gestured to Maud. The earth pony stepped forward and pulled the ore from her bag.

“Silver and I recovered this material earlier today. It’s immune to magic, and we want to know just how immune.”

“Of course,” Twilight replied, wiping away a tear and leaning over the ore. “Did you test it’s molecular conductance?”

“I did. It’s on the planck scale.”

“Whoa! I’ve only ever heard of one substance like that from the pre-Imperial era. You don’t think it’s orichalcum, do you?”

“That’s what we’re here to find out.” Maud placed the ore on the polished floor. “Can you zap it?”

“You want me to take the rarest metal in Equestria and just zap it?”

“Blasting would work too,” Maud said plainly.

“I think I have a better idea. I can cast a powerful disintegration spell. If it really is orichalum, then it should remain effectively unharmed. If everypony could stand back.”

Once the crowd had cleared a torrent of purple power erupted from her horn and onto the floor. The magic splashed over the ore, swirling in concentric patterns as bits of the floor began to rise into the vortex. After a few seconds the magic ceased. When the smoke cleared all that could be seen was the ore, the column of rock below it, and a gaping hole in the once pristine floor.

“Whoops, probably should’ve thought about that. No worries, though,” Twilight chuckled nervously. Her magenta aura formed around the ore before fizzling away as she tried to pull it back. “Sorry, habit.”

“Well, I think that answers your question Maud,” Silver declared, reaching across the gap to fetch the ore before tossing it to her.

“My professor is going to freak,” she said as she placed the ore in her bag. “I’ll have to see just what can be done with this. Stop by tomorrow morning, I could use your help with the castings.”

“Why tomorrow?” Silver’s question was met with Maud’s small grin.

“I’m sure Twilight has a greater need for you than I do.” The two turned toward an impatient looking Twilight as she fidgeted in place. Silver glanced over, then back again with a warm grin to Maud. “I know how to share.”

Matter of the Heart, pt. 1

Rarity’s head snapped up just in time to dodge the carriage rocketing across her path. A gasp escaped her lips, robbing her of the power to shout obscenities at the carelessness of her would-be attacker. Instead, she elected to hurl daggers from her eyes at the dwindling sight of the carriage before continuing on her way with a dainty huff, down the street and toward a familiar storefront.

She loved Canterlot. Big cities, mostly, but Canterlot’s refined nature had always spoken such sweet words to that deep, equally refined part of her soul in ways that convinced her to ignore the otherwise obvious flaws of the city. Her eyes returned to her newspaper, and suddenly the flaws became more apparent.

Canterlot Caper: Royal Reliquary Done In By Thieves

The headline had gnawed at her mind since this morning’s tea. Rarity instinctively turned a corner and pressed her pristine hoof to the familiar coolness of Canterlot Carousel’s front door. The entry bell chimed, it’s gentle ring overcast by sounds of conversation.

“Oh, yes, my lord. This one does wonders for your neckline,” Sassy Saddles, Rarity’s business partner, proudly declared to her customer. “So pronounced, and really brings out your eyes. Would you like to try a cravat?”

“I could be convinced.”

Rarity’s eyes drifted from the newspaper and glided to the form of a stallion, statuesque and with fur to match, draped in a deep sapphire variant of her latest tailcoat design. The argent hairs on his head ruffled as he turned toward the call of the door bell. Rarity’s grip on the newspaper loosened and she rushed toward her visitor.

“Silver, darling!” Rarity called out, her powers of speech returned, before draping her forelegs around Silver’s neck. Her affection was returned in the form of a firm hug and soft chuckle.

“Ooooh, I haven’t seen you in months. How are you? Does Ms. Hearts like the bow tie she ordered?”

“She loves it, almost as much as the dog who’s wearing it.” Silver loosened his hold on the unicorn, sending her a smile. “I’m doing fine. I’m glad to see you.”

“Me too.”

“My lord? Do you have a preference in color,” Sassy asked through a giggle. “Or perhaps you’d like some privacy?”

Silver and Rarity looked toward Sassy, who patiently waited with a row of silk cravats in her magical hold.

“Another day, thank you. I should attend to this.”

Sassy gave a nod to Silver, who handed her a sack of bits as payment for the coat. She trotted behind the front counter, out of sight behind the racks of pristine clothing and finery.

“‘Attend’ to me, hm?” Rarity said, raising a coy eyebrow.

“You’re worth the attention,” Silver returned, huskily, before his eyes turned toward the discarded newspaper. “I take it you’ve heard?”

“Huh… oh! Yes, yes I have. Dreadful business, and to think it only happened last night. Is…” Her voice caught on her next words. “Is that why you’re here?”

“I’ve been following a trail. There’s something here in the city that could be dangerous, if left unchecked, and if it’s been stolen I need to get it back. And, well, I did miss you, too.”

A blush, perceptible only to Rarity’s keen sight, formed a thin line across Silver’s firm muzzle. Her eyes brightened, enough to betray her poised expression.

“Well, I would hate to keep the great and terrible Ghost from his pursuit of righteousness. Perhaps you could tell me about it over dinner?”

“Or you could come with me?”

“You want me to tag along? Well, I… you remember what happened last time I stopped some rabble-rouser with you, yes?”

“Are you saying you don’t want to take back a treasure most fabulous,” he teased, “from the rueful ruffians who now defile it?”

At that Rarity laughed. A light, nasally giggle that spread its warmth to Silver and drew out his own deep chuckle. She placed a hoof to her mouth, laughing into it as she felt her walls of hesitation crumble.

“I said I would stick to dresses, but I suppose a little caper would serve to keep me sharp, wouldn’t it? So…”

Rarity wrapped a foreleg around Silver’s, gently resting her cheek against his shoulder.

“Lead the way, hero.”

--

The towering hallways of Canterlot Castle were pristine as always, meticulously maintained by the legion of caretakers it housed. Every doorway, painting, and window seemed to glimmer in the midday sun as its light cascaded along polished marble floors, meeting with the equally sheen golden armor of the castle guards. It was a sight found nowhere else in Equestria, equal only to the princess this grand display served to please. Only one area of the palace was immune to it’s immaculate display.

In the east tower, through smaller and windowless hallways decorated in a muted blue and adorned with trophies of past conquests, sat the dwelling of Princess Luna, sister of Princess Celestia and Sovereign of the Night. The hall was punctuated by a large door. It’s molding sported ancient symbols depicting the moon’s phases, which served as the intimidating archway leading toward the Royal Reliquary. Before the dark oak of the double doors, alone, stood Rarity. She gave the wooden obelisk a firm knock.

“When I said ‘lead the way’, Silver, I didn’t think you’d leave me at the castle gate.”

“I would never,” said a voice from above. The Ghost was lowered by his cloak, upside down, and brought his head next to Rarity’s. “But you know they would’ve never let Lord Aristo into a crime scene.”

“And, surely, this form won’t cause any problems, either.”

“Should I stop hanging from the ceiling?”

“Oh, no, darling,” she snarked. “I much prefer a stallion’s blood rushing to this particular head.”

The Ghost cocked an eyebrow as Rarity’s hoof patted the top of his head. Their teasing was cut short by a cacophony of clicks and whirs, radiating from the wooden monolith before them, as the doors heaved open. In the dim light of the reliquary stood Princess Luna.

“Lady Rarity,” she began. “We hath heard tell of your arrival. Most pleasing one of dear sister’s champions doth sally to aid us in this affair. Your… companion, though.”

The Ghost willed his cloak to release its grip on the ceiling, landing deftly on all fours before giving a deep bow of his head.

“Your majesty,” he announced, almost in reverence.

“‘Tis no grand surprise you aide Lady Rarity, noble rogue. We recall thee from the trial of the nefarious unicorn, Shield Wall, a terrible affair we are relieved sits behind us, now. Is the matter at hoof what brings you to Canterlot?”

“It is, and I will assist in any way I can.”

“Excellent,” Luna said, stepping aside from the doorway. “Then, please, prithee enter.”

The Ghost motioned his hoof to Rarity, bidding she enter first, and the two were met with the expansive collection housed within the reliquary, illuminated only by dancing magic lights. Every surface, be it shelf or table, housed an equally unique object whose purpose the duo could hardly guess, covered by a dome ceiling high above them. Massive scrolls, clicking contraptions of bronze gears, glass orbs containing everything from firestorms to tiny, preserved worlds of a forgotten time. Their eyes were alight with wonder as Luna led them toward the end of the chamber. Before her sat a single pedestal, stone carved and blackened to some degree, that seemed to emanate a chill from its surface. The princess turned to her guests.

“Here, my fellows, once rested the very object of which we now search. Once thought to be safe, it could spell doom for Canterlot in the hooves of ne'er do wells. You may be familiar, Lady Rarity, but what once lay here was-”

“The heart of the Tantabus, the monster you created to infect your own dreams, once upon a time.”

Both Rarity and Luna stood motionless at the Ghost’s casual interruption. Luna, her eyes locked onto her cloak-clad visitor, took a step forward with an intimidating scowl.

“Prithee, explain the source of your knowledge, lest we are convinced the culprit is thee.”

“I learned about it from one of my enemies,” the Ghost began, calmly. “A lingering member of Shield Wall’s conspiracy, Bronze Hoof, who sought the heart and other objects of power. I’m here to make sure nopony can use it for their own purposes.”

“Verily,” Luna said cooly. Her eyes turned to Rarity with a glare that seemed to pull the words from her mouth.

“I trust him,” she blurted out. “He has done more than enough to prove his allegiance to Equestria, and I don’t think he’s so foolish as to return to the pony he stole from, were he guilty.”

Luna’s gaze, narrow and firm, traveled from Rarity to the Ghost, and back again in a methodical fashion. After a few agonizing seconds she gave a sigh and expelled the tension in her form.

“We find your terms agreeable. Thou hast questions for your investigation, yes?”

“Of course.” Rarity cleared her throat and approached the princess. “I’ll begin by asking when you learned about the break-in?”

“Early. T’was not before the daily offering of sister’s breakfast did we receive missive.”

“How many points of entry does the reliquary have? Are there secret passages?”

“None. A thief may search for hours, yet come up empty hoofed.”

“Magically shielded, then?”

“Of course. Mighty wards left by we sisters. Enchanted to allow entry to those deemed worthy.”

“So you’re saying the reliquary is impregnable?”

“So we believed. Yet here we stand, the heart gone from its mantle.”

“Perhaps guards, then? There must be a security force in place to protect something so dangerous. Are they permitted entry?”

“A hoofful, but yes. They will be gathered for your inquiries.”

“Thank you, your highness,” Rarity said with a nod. “With your permission, might we stay here and search the crime scene? It’s likely the thieves have left some trace of their identity.”

Luna paused for a moment and stared. Her eyes flicked to the Ghost, the empty pedestal, and back to Rarity before granting her a confirmatory nod. She turned toward the towering doors and made her way out into the dim hallway. Rarity approached the pedestal, eyes firm and scanning the stone platform.

“I’ll search the area and see what I find,” the Ghost piped up. “With luck, we’ll find a track or discarded gear.”

“It may be a touch more complicated than that, darling.”

“Oh?” The Ghost turned to Rarity and met her gaze.

“Do you see those markings, around the door?” Rarity pointed a hoof toward the mural depicting the moon’s phases, looming over the entryway. “They’re sporting runes and etchings of the wards Luna spoke of.”

“Hard to miss,” he replied. “I’m still trying to figure out how these thieves forced their way past them.”

“They’ve been rendered inert, Silver. There was no need to ‘force’ anything.”

“Excuse me?” At this the Ghost cocked a suspicious eyebrow.

“The runes on the wall are written as a barrier to keep things in, while the ones outside keep things out. But somehow they’ve both been suppressed. You can tell by the dullness of the runes’ glow.”

“Are you sure?”

“When you adventure with the Princess of Magic and Friendship, you tend to learn a thing or two about ancient spells. Dispelling a ward is fairly straightforward, but the enchantment is still there, just… sleeping.”

Only now could the Ghost recognize what Rarity spoke of. True to her word, the arcane lettering that decorated the mural and door frame emanated a hazy, bluish glow that seemed to pulse rhythmically. He returned his attention to Rarity.

“So we’re dealing with a master of the arcane arts. What are you thinking?”

“I have a theory. It’s not good, but…” Rarity placed a hoof on the Ghost’s shoulder. “Start searching. I’ll tell you once we’re done.