Spirit Waker

Clouds float lazily through the sky as if they're sleeping themselves under the radiant light of the moon. It's meant to be peaceful and harmonic to those who witness it, but the Griffon that stands to look up at them with a piercing gaze is anything but.

His beak is marred with scars of times gone by. His eyes are a steely gray. Upon his side sits a shortsword resting neatly in its scabbard decorated with marks and ticks with a purpose known only to him. His body has aged, but his mind more so. He's grown knowledgeable in his years and has honed his trade.

As he watches the once midnight purple night skies turn to a bloodred orange, he can't help but feel a shiver up his spine. He knows this sign for he has seen it before. He hardly ever feels fear, but when he does, he takes it seriously.

As the sun breaks the horizon to rise once more, he feels fear. The sun seems to loom over him like a predator. Like it is watching his every movement. If he takes his eyes off of it, will it strike him down?

Something sinister is in the air this morning.

He lets his eyes wander across the art before him once more. Red and orange conquer the blue that is meant to be there. The clouds, once fluffy, look ominous and sharp in the hue of light.

"Red skies. Bad Omen."

A quick flap of wings signals the landing of another behind him. This one much younger in appearance alone. No blemishes upon feature, softer green eyes, and sharpness to his movements that even a blade would be jealous of.

"Oh? I wasn't aware the skies could tell the future."

"Shows how much ya know, little hen."

A scowl crosses the younger's face, "I'm not a hen, oldy."

"Den stop actin like it. Now, urry up and grab yer weapon. We leave in two."

The younger makes no move to do so.

"What for! We haven't seen a damned thing since we got here! We haven't even found the missing slave! Why the hell would he come here anyway! Nothing but ruins and boredom...

"Even the animals avoid this place! I haven't had a good piece of meat in days..."

"You have much to learn if you wanna make it in this business. Wisdom lies in Patience and vice versa. "

"Yeah? What wisdom do you have to bestow upon me?"

The older Griffon says nothing as he continues to stare at the horizon. The shadow of Canterlot seems to be darker today. The mountain it stands upon seems sturdier. As if it is ready for a fight.

The younger growls impatiently before going and yanking his lance from his tent. He comes up beside his partner, annoyance in every step.

"So what sort of omen do you see? At least tell me that if nothing else."

"Death. Injury. Blood. Don't know whose, but we betta be ready."

"So you some sort of cloud prophet now?" the younger says in a mocking tone.

The older Griffon takes off followed shortly by the younger with a grunt of disappointment.

From a distance, the once mighty capital of Equestria doesn't seem that worse for wear. The larger of the buildings still stand in a testament of time. The hill's greenery seems to have grown over the bodies and debris that once scarred the sides. The growing scene of destruction becomes more apart with the higher one climbs and the further in they go. It would be hell to shift through the rubble and debris to find someone or something amongst the burnt down and blown up buildings. Especially only with the two of them.

"Are you going to answer any of my questions or not?"

"Stop askin stupid ones and we'll see."

"Alright, I'm game. Here's a question, what if our target went underground? Pushed some debris over and found some underground bunker."

"Ponies can't stand the dark too long. We can thank the bitch for that one. They can't stand not being near each other either. You watch for signs. You look for signals." The rustic Griff holds up a taloned fist before pointing towards a random pile of used to be house.

The two fly down with the younger landing further away to pick at stones while the older focuses on a mission. He scours for a few moments before he shifts some rubble away to reveal a steel collar. He would've missed like his partner if he didn't know what to look for.

He inspects it for a second before finding the sign of his employer.

"He's gotten his collar off. Used some of the rocks nearby to snap it off. Look for blood. I doubt you'll smell it with all the dirt and dust around. If we're lucky, he'd have forgotten to mask his trail."

"Yeah? What makes you think that isn't some other slave's collar? You said it yourself, ponies migrate to where they feel safe."

"Cause the blood is still fresh on this one. Now quit yer yappin and use yer eyes more ya idgit."

"I'm not an idiot! And I know what I'm doing! That's why they sent me here. I could've brought him back faster if I didn't have to wait for your bones to warm up to fly."

The older says nothing more as he begins his search for signs. Through his years of hunting down slave after slave, he has established a way to notice signs between the ones that still believe in something and the ones that just want to be free. It is in the way they act and think; Rationality and the irrationality of it all between the two.

One might think he's scot-free once they find a hiding spot. Some might think ambushing better-armed troops might earn them something. Yet others seem to know how the system works. Just like him, they know the signs. They know the signals. They know what to look for.

He sees tracks leading away from the stallions collar, but no blood.

His attention returns to the collar in question. A slave on the run's collar would be dirtier and scratched. This is obviously an attempt to throw them off, but that means he might not be working alone. This is usually the case for most runaways, but this seems too planned.

The older draws his blade and listens beyond the wind and movement of his partner. His eyes are pinpricked and watching for movement from anywhere. Anything irregular amongst the stones and wreckage will not go unnoticed.

"Hey, isn't this close to The Wall?"

"Yea. It is."

"Think he could've gone there out of some sort of respect? I hear they really worshipped their princesses."

"We'll check together. No flying, just walk."

"What!? It'll be faster and we'll have the chance to catch him by surprise if he's stilly praying!"

"That is if somepony hasn't already spotted us. And if he ain't there, we might get spotted if we fly in. We'll stick to the shadows and watch fer-"

"Fuck off with your paranoia! I'm going ahead." The younger takes off while cutting the other party off.

The older Griff can't help but think of how many tail feathers he's seen fly off without the chance to return. It was always the brash ones.

"Overconfidence is a slow and insidious killer."

The older begins his walk, sword clutched in talon, towards The Wall.

The Wall itself isn't anything spectacular. But what is on The Wall and the history behind it is. During the later parts of the war against Equestria, it became apparent to everyone that Canterlot would not fall easily. Something had to be done about the walls and towers around it. Even more so when it came to the various shields they dropped down before everything.

The first plan came as a wall of bodies. This was met with disastrous results and did nothing more but increase the moral of the Equestrians and their allies. The second came with magical pressures and stealth. The spies were killed and the princess of magic manged to counter everything they used. And the plans continued until one day, it broke.

When the shields failed, so did The Wall. The initial push was hell, but once they were inside of their walls.

They knew hell.

Respect was given to the Equestrians for actually putting up a fight and holding off their forces for so long. The leaders decided to leave one of their walls standing.

The older Griffon stops a few feet away to admire the sight before him for a moment.

"It's always somethin' to see fer sure. But another to see it in action."

Thereupon The Wall, hanging from chains untouched by time, hangs the upper half of one Princess of Magic. Her body shows wounds and scars from the fight that eventually took her life. The cutoff point of her body still drains blood like a perverted fountain. The red river spills forth from her creating a pool at the base.

The reason for this is still left a mystery. Even the lower half remained bleeding as much as the upper.

Or at least that is what he was told.

It could always be chalked up as some sort of freaky alicorn magic. There is nothing special about the blood other than the fact it continues to flow as if the body is still alive. Researchers have come and gone to figure out the mystery, but none have.

He scans the ground around the monument and sees nothing.

"That ain't right..."

He was sure the younger Griff would make it here before him. Maybe cause some panic in the ponies or make them alter their plans. If they did, he was going to be sure to keep an eye and ear out for them. But so far, everything has been silent.

Eerily so.

Perhaps the watchers went after the younger first due to his hot-headedness. The younger would seem more prone to make mistakes that the older wouldn't. They could take advantage of that with ease.

Or perhaps there is something more at play here.

The Griff stows his blade before approaching. He takes a moment to press his finger into the puddle before placing it in his mouth.

Refreshing.

The Griffon tenses and snaps his head towards the sudden noise of rubble and bricks moving. He stares at the source as it stumbles over the hill of debris.

"Damnit. I'll never understand how they climb stuff without hooves..."

The Griffon pulls free his blade before turning towards the voice. A top the rubble, a woman steps free of her tribulation, grimace upon her scratched bright white face. Her body seems to radiate light as she stands there hand clutched upon the semi burnt frame of a home. Her hair seems to flow as if caught in an invisible wind. She gives a breath of air before slowly smiling upon making eye contact with the Griffon.

"Well... look what we have here. I didn't expect to see more of you today."

"I'm assumin ya ran into my partner."

"More along the lines of him running into me. Quite the chance encounter actually. Though lately, I've been having quite a lot of those." She chuckles darkly while eying the Griff up, "Tell me, what is your name?"

"And why should I do that?"

"Well, I was hoping I could start a collection of names."

"Of names? What sorta hobby is that? Why would ya need names fer anyway?"

"Oh? An inquisitive type huh? Or are you looking for a way to get an edge up on me, hm? Either way, I'm collecting names for a new hobby of mine!"

A shiver runs down the older Griff's spine, "That hobby being?"

"Keeping up with the names of every Griffon I rip the wings off of! Of course, I only have one name on that list right now. But I'm looking to increase it very soon."

The Griffon's grip tightens upon his handle. His body is ready for battle. He watches for any movement from her. To his surprise, she doesn't make any sort of aggressive move. She seems to just eye him before sliding down the pile of rubble.

She stumbles at the end and the Griffon is quick to attempt to take advantage of this. His wings snap open and he launches himself at her clumsiness, but he quickly finds that his body refuses to move.

"Whoops! Clumsy me haha! I nearly fell there for a moment!"

The woman makes her way up to him. His body shakes in an attempt to move away, towards, and to the side of her. But nothing happens other than his futile attempts at freedom. Some invisible hand has him trapped within his spot.

"You know, I used to think that Griffons, Griffins, and Gryphons could be reasoned with. I truly believed that everything could be worked out with words and gifts. Little did I know how wrong I was. I was so wrong that it cost me everything.

"My dear Twilight. She fell way before her years. Even with her dying breath, she stood for something much more than Equestria itself. She and her friends deserved more than what they got.

"She once was my student, you know? Then, she became even more than that to me. She became the daughter I could never have.

"After the walls fell, I watched my daughter be beaten, raped, and eventually ripped in half by the Manotaurs and parts of her flesh eaten by the Minotaurs. And despite that, she still held true to her powers and life. She saved her friends instead of herself from the fate that was sure to fall on them after her.

"She begged. Much like your partner actually. As I slowly ripped his wings off, he cried out for you. It was the cutest little thing. Much like a kitten mewling."

Her eyes move from the body nailed to the wall to the soon to be one underneath her.

"I wonder what sort of noises you'll make?"