Wild managed to free everyone he could reach in the basement, a total of twelve ponies not counting him. None of them had any idea what was going on, and most of them appeared to have no memory of between the last couple of days and the previous week. Seashell, a mostly-deaf filly a number of years younger than Wild, helped him translate his explanation for those who didn't know or had a limited understanding of Equestrian Sign Language.

The basement was silent except for the anxious whispers of the ponies, none of whom Wild knew at all. He might have seen them from time to time but, as he never really paid much attention to anyone else, they were entirely unfamiliar. Perhaps it was a mistake on his part, one too late to rectify. He didn't know to expect something like this attack happening, after all. However, he guiltily thought that he should have - where he lived, being in a school was enough to be under a constant if not immediate threat of being in a shooting. He really should have known better.

The group was disorganized and scared - for them, the Royal Orphanage was the only family they knew, and without adults around, they didn't know whom to turn to. Even the oldest of them were thirteen - perhaps on their way to becoming an adult in a year, but still far from their experienced caretakers. None of them knew how to fight, none of them had ever been in any serious fight in their lives. They weren't prepared for an attack in any way whatsoever. Worst of all, most of them were still shaken from being woken up from pleasant dreams and learning they were a lie.

Wild himself still tried to ignore what he dreamed of. He got what he wanted so much, only to learn it was not real at all. He didn't want to think about it.

He focused on the there and then. He had a group of kids, and he felt responsible for them. While he didn't know any of them, seeing them scared woke a protective instinct inside him. Crimes against children were unforgivable. He knew he was nowhere near good parenting material, but he knew children are to be protected. Being the oldest among them, it was his responsibility to see to their safety. It was simply the right thing to do.

Wild caught the attention of Seashell again and signed to her. She nodded, then spoke up.

"Gather'round, everyone," she said. Her voice had an odd and soft tone, slightly slurry, but generally clear, "Wild has a plan."

To say he had a plan wasn't entirely accurate if Wild were to be honest with himself. It had been probably over a decade since he took part in planning any group activity, and he was a child then. He had precisely zero experience guiding anyone, but he knew someone needed to offer at least a semblance of an idea of what to do lest all of them drown in their own fear and turn to panic. The crux of the plan was very simple - they needed to escape the orphanage. Since they found themselves in this situation, it was clear whatever happened hadn't yet ended, and it was best to presume the orphanage overrun by whoever or whatever attacked them.

The anxiety wasn't helped by the fact that no one knew what time it was, let alone how many days had passed since Wild was captured. It was true that he was the most recent captive, but he had no idea how much time he spent dreaming. Perhaps it was merely an hour. Or maybe it was over a week. He simply had no way of knowing.

"But where will we go?" someone from the crowd asked.

"To Ponyville," the deaf filly translated from Wild, "If they are ovehrun too, hide in a forest."

"How long?"

Wild looked lost, a deep frown on his face, and then shrugged awkwardly.

"What if they're already everywhere?"

"Then..." Seashell paused and swallowed, "Then we are already doomed."

Perhaps it wasn't the right thing to say, but Wild believed it best to tell them the truth. They had no idea what was going on outside - it was entirely possible Equestria had already been taken over or perhaps a war was going on or who even knew what.

Wild wasn't ready for it. He was already so used to the peace in the Royal Orphanage, the very thought of experiencing something like this was, surprisingly, entirely foreign. He knew what it was like to have no one to turn to but he had forgotten how it felt. He had forgotten how it was like to struggle to survive. And yet, it appeared he was back to it, forced to endure it again. Perhaps he wasn't alone now, but children could hardly count. Princess Luna would be helpful, he imagined, but she had been either killed or captured. He tried not to think about it.

Their best chance to survive was to be armed. Unfortunately, arming earth ponies and pegasi needed special equipment that would allow them to properly control their weapons, so only unicorns ended up armed more or less well enough. Brooms and broom handles to act as spear, and bent steel pot lids to act as shields. In all honesty, they looked weak, pathetic, and out of their element, but Wild thought it was better than nothing in case they had to fight... provided they fought and not just ran away. He instructed them how to fight with the most basic moves that they could handle and hoped it would be enough. The kids were still shaken, barely holding themselves together, but Wild's appearance of confidence, as well as the semblance of a plan he told them helped.

Despite his calm and collected exterior, he wasn't holding himself well either. He wasn't ready to fight a battle. He had never fought a battle. What he did, the swordsmanship, he did it for fun, not for war. He would spit on anyone who thought this situation would allow them to get some glory or some other crap. No, he knew that a war was no joke. War is blood, death, and misery. There are no positive things to say about it.

Wild was no coward, but he knew he was not suited for war. He had experienced enough misery for a lifetime or even two, he didn't seek more of it.

Finally, it was time to act, they couldn't delay anymore. Wild was in front, creeping up the stairs to what was the exit from the basement. A small strip of light shone from under the door. The silence was deafening, and Wild could hear his own breath and his own heartbeat as if they were the only things that existed. He armed himself with a broom handle - he considered taping a trowel to it, but he wasn't ready to kill. He knew it would be too easy to just stab, and that wasn't something he would be able to take back. Instead, he wrapped a rope around his body to which he attached the very same trowel he used to free himself and others. If and only if he had to kill, he would be able to. Not a moment before.

Far too soon yet after what felt like an eternity, he was at the door. He listened closely, but there was nothing but muffled sounds of nature coming from behind the door. He slowly opened it, holding his breath. The door didn't squeak, no shouting erupted. When the door was fully opened, he glanced outside. It was a somewhat familiar hallway - he might have passed it once or twice - and it was entirely empty. Once, the emptiness would've been soothing - now it felt like unseen danger hiding behind every corner. He turned to Seashell, who was right behind him, and signed to her. She nodded, then passed along his message.

Low to the floor, the group slowly made their way towards where Wild thought the exit would be. Of course, it wasn't the front entrance - he expected it would be guarded or keep under watch in some other way. He was leading them to one of secondary entrances. They just needed to stay low enough not to be seen from the outside through the windows.

The area behind the first corner was clear. The silence was oppressive, the emptiness was stifling. The nature outside continued as it was, as if nothing had happened. The nearly-constant buzz of active children was entirely absent.

As he glanced around another corner, he came to face to face with someone. They were pony-like, yet undeniably also insect-like with their shiny black exterior devoid of any fur and translucent wings. Their eyes were a solid color, and they also had a horn. That was all Wild registered before a screech sounded, high-pitched and unpleasant. He knew it now - this was an alarm.

He dashed forward, placing a solid hit in the face of the being, sending them tumbling. There was a second one, whose horn started glowing. Wild struck with the broom handle right at the base of the horn, interrupting whatever spell was being cast, and the being seized, falling on the ground. Wild placed a couple more solid hits on the two, rendering them unable to fight back. He didn't care to learn who they were - now he and the kids were racing against the clock.

He opened the closest window wide, gestured, and Seashell translated it with a shaky voice. With wary looks sent at groaning being lying to the side, the ponies quickly got through the window, with the bigger ponies helping the smaller ones. Wild was the last one out.

Wild knew that the orphanage was surrounded by a wall, and there was only one entrance he knew about. The surroundings outside were familiar, and he knew where to go. He glanced at Canterlot - its shield was gone, and it was swarming with black dots. Green flashes could be seen even from this far away.

Wild run along with the group, guiding them to the entrance. For around a minute, it didn't appear like they were followed, but then he spotted a group of five of those beings he encountered flying through the air towards them from the building. They were catching up, too, and the ponies were still far from the exit. No one was paying attention - he was the only one who saw them coming.

Wild stopped and turned around to face them. Others would have a chance to escape. Him? It wasn't like his life was worth much in the first place. He snarled, bringing up the broom handle, his heart beating faster and faster, drawing strength from deep inside him.

Five against one. Perhaps it was futile, but that didn't mean he was unwilling to try. With a deep breath, he rushed towards them. They were flying low to the ground, low enough to be hit by him. They saw him coming too, changing their direction slightly, and Wild knew now he was their focus. Good, that meant others would be able to escape. He absently noted that the beings all had the same aqua eyes as well as holes in legs that, while looking disturbing, didn't seem to pain them at all. Their wings buzzed as they flew, louder and more threatening than a hornet.

A bolt of magic flew through the air, basking the surroundings in a green light, and Wild dodged. He wished he knew more magic there and then, but that couldn't be helped now. The first being was now close enough, a snarl on their oddly pony-like face, and Wild was quick to strike, nailing them in the head.

The rest of them landed far enough out of his range, and then green fire erupted from each, enveloping them entirely for but a moment, and then disappeared. In their place, stood exact copies of Wild, which made him do a double-take. Their expressions were malicious, yet they didn't quite fit on Wild's face.

"Surrender now, and the princess will show you mercy," one of them said, their voice so oddly close to how Wild remembered his voice sounding years ago. It was uncanny seeing himself speak, knowing it wasn't he who spoke.

"The princess wants you," another said, "Comply, and others will be let go."

He didn't know what the 'princess' wanted from him and he wasn't about to agree to finding out. He inhaled deeply, snarled, and dashed forward.

They proved to be capable fighters, taunting him as they weaved around his strikes. He managed to land a couple, but they didn't have much of an effect. He wished he had a sword. This broom handle simply wasn't enough.

He was foolish and he was now paying the price. Five against one was a sure outcome - his weapon was knocked from his grasp, and he was greeted by the familiar darkness of unconsciousness soon after.

***

Wild came to consciousness as if a switch inside of him was flipped. He blinked wearily, then realized he was lying on tile. His brain was foggy, his mind uncertain.

"Ah, finally," a voice spoke, distinctly feminine.

He rolled on his hooves and stood up, his magic forming into a pair of hands now that he had no weapon. He recognized the space - it was the cafeteria. Behind him, five beings stood, cutting off his escape. In front of him, in the middle of the room, on a mockery of a throne made from the furniture of the cafeteria, another sat. She was taller than others, her eyes sky-blue, the very same shade...

She was there, at the tournament. He remembered her watching him with uncanny attention.

"I see you recognize me," she said, her voice soft, a smirk on her face emphasizing her fangs. Her horn was more curved than those of others. However, there was something off about her appearance. He saw it then - her exterior wasn't shiny. In fact, it was cracked in places, flaky. The wing casing was a dull green, scratched as if after an itch. One of her ears was drooping and torn. The expression on her face sent shivers down his spine, "And I know you, too."

Wild was silent, his eyes frantically looking around for something, anything, to help him. His eyes landed in a half-made cocoon hanging from the ceiling, and within it was Princess Luna. As far as he could see, she was alive, even awake, but she was mostly encased in the cocoon, only her head partially free. Her eyes locked with his.

I wish I could help you, her voice sounded in his head, But I am useless now. I am sorry.

He broke her gaze and looked back at the being on the throne.

"Oh yes, Princess Luna is right here, too," she giggled, a sound that had nothing in common with laughter, "Once Queen Chrysalis sees my contribution to her cause, she will see my value. I am this close to becoming a princess," she narrowed her eyes at him, her expression changing from a joyful to a serious in a moment, "But you... you are an obstacle. You know something important, and you will tell me," she chuckled, "But you are mute, aren't you? A freak. How ponies put up with someone like you, I have no idea," she sighed, "So soft-shelled, aren't they?"

Wild saw it then, as if his eyes were directed there, a knife lying abandoned by a cutting board in the part of cafeteria kitchen visible from where he was. His eyes traveled to the 'princess' on the throne, and he felt nauseous. But then he didn't have a choice, now did he? It was either him or her.

Kill her.

He turned his eyes to Luna, but her eyes were closed. It didn't come from her.

Did it come... from within? Did he want it?

"Now, Wild," the 'princess' said, "I want to one one thing, and I will learn it. No one has broken from a cocoon by themselves before, but you did just that," the sentence ended in a whisper, "Isn't that unusual, hm? Look into my eyes when I speak to you!"

Unwillingly, he looked into her sky-blue eyes as he was frozen in place. Then there was a sensation like falling backwards, but he was standing still. Something heavy was pressing on him in a way he hadn't felt before, and it felt sick. He wanted to get rid of it right then, to never feel it again.

How did you accomplish this? Show me.

He knew what she was asking for and he didn't want to tell her. He was strong, stronger than her. He wouldn't tell.

You helped others escape too. Show me how.

The pressure increased and increased, the questions repeating, wearing down on him. He grit his teeth yet he couldn't look away, his head was now aching, the pain growing with each passing moment.

The knife. He needed the knife. It was there, in his peripheral vision. He reached for it.

I am with you, Wild. I know you are strong. I am sorry I can't protect you much more now, but we'll figure out a way out, I promise.

Luna's eyes were open, looking into his. This provided momentary relief, and the 'princess' broke her gaze to glare furiously at Luna.

"Shut up!" she screamed and hurled an empty plate at the cocoon. The cocoon wobbled a bit, turning away just enough that Luna couldn't look into Wild's eyes without straining too much, and the plate shattered on the ground, "Shut your mouth! Queen Chrysalis will deal with you later, after she is done with your wretched sister!" she turned back to Wild, "Now, I ask again. Tell me everything."

The pressure on his mind was stronger now, much stronger, and his head was now pounding painfully, blood rushing. He didn't notice it then, but blood welled up under his eyes like tears.

The knife. He needed the knife.

Show me how you escaped. Show me how others escaped. Show me how. Show me now.

The knife. The wooden handle was there, in his grasp. The blade was nice and sharp. He needed it, he needed it now.

You are strong, she cannot defeat you.

It was not Luna speaking. The 'princess' did not notice it.

Show me. Show me everything I want. Do it now.

His ears were ringing, he could hardly think from all the pain in his head. It felt like too much was in his head, too much to fit, and he needed to get rid of some of it to make space for the rest.

The knife was silently levitated up, the glint from the blade shining into his eyes just for a moment. He had it. Now he just needed to-

WHY DO YOU NOT SHOW ME? STOP RESISTING! YOU ARE MINE!

He wouldn't give in.

Do not give in.

SHOW ME, SHOW ME NOW!

He was strong. He survived his own death.

You live again. Your suffering won't amount to nothing.

He was strong. He was stronger than this 'princess'. He had a life here now, a life he... he wanted to fight for. A life he enjoyed.

You have the strength.

He snarled, pulling on something deep inside him. He screamed his throat raw, disentangling himself from the captivity of the questioning, demanding gaze that wanted to rip into his mind.

A gasp sounded, the connection was broken, and he coughed up blood, blinking his eyes from the sting. When he looked, the 'princess' was looking in horror at one of her legs - a kitchen knife was inside it. The other beings were in a similar state of shock, frozen in their place. Luna watched it, wide-eyed.

Wild dashed forward, pulling the knife out. The 'princess' screamed, falling from her throne. A green spell soared through the air, missing its mark.

Wild had the 'princess' in his grasp now, and his knife was pressed against her throat. He hid behind her, preventing others from casting or striking.

"No no no, please, please don't kill me," she whimpered, "Please, I swear, I'll do anything, I will-"

SHUT UP!

Wild realized it was him speaking into her mind. She went silent, but he could still hear her frantic thoughts. He found a sense of satisfaction in reducing her to this. She was no longer in control, and what she wanted was to have it back. But how could one argue against a bloodied knife to their throat?

Kill her. She would've done worse to you.

Wild hesitated, the knife trembling in his grasp as the 'princess' continued to whine and whimper quietly, tears streaming down her face.

Tell them to free Princess Luna.

"I will, I will!" she said, her voice wobbling, then a series of insect-like noises came from her. When the other five didn't move, she repeated them louder. With hesitation, they moved to the cocoon and started dissolving it with something from their maws.

Soon enough, Luna was freed. She stood up slowly, and then she quickly stunned the five beings. She stretched, then turned to Wild.

"Wild," she spoke gently, "Please, drop the knife."

Kill her now. She doesn't deserve to live after what she had done and tried to do. And she would've done more. You know she would have.

Wild closed his eyes, blood mixing with tears. He had killed a monster once, he could do it again. His head still pounded, the pain was there, and her words still echoed in his mind, demanding, forcing their way deeper into him.

Paying her back for this would be the right thing to do. He knew Luna disagreed, and he was unwilling to look at her. She didn't understand. She tried to help him, perhaps, but she still didn't understand him. He had to do this.

Scum who violated others deserved nothing but death. He did it before, he could do it again, and swiftly this time. It was better than prolonging their suffering despite how much he wanted her to hurt.

"You are not a killer, Wild. Please, drop the knife. You don't want to do this."

What did she know about him? He had killed before. He was a killer. Some would call him a murderer. He knew he did the right thing then - they didn't deserve anything less than death. They had done horrible things to others, to him, and he knew they would've done it again and again and again if he didn't put a stop to them.

And now... He would put a stop to it before it started. Though, who knew how many others she had already violated? Whose minds had she ripped apart before? How many others did she abduct or ordered to abduct, keep in those cocoons who knew where?

His grip on the knife tightened. He would do it.

Kill her now.

"Wild, please," Luna said, "Please, look at me."

LOOK INTO MY EYES WHEN I AM SPEAKING TO YOU

He flinched, although now it was just a recent memory. The 'princess' was still whimpering, now weaker, and she was under his control, her life in his hands.

"Wild, you don't have to do this," Luna continued, "It is over. She can't do anything more to you. I will see to it that she pays for her crimes, but killing her is not the way. You don't want this on your consciousness."

He opened his eyes then and looked at her. He wished he could say it - he had killed before. It was too late to keep his consciousness, his soul, clean. What is one more kill, especially when it would help others? He was already done for, anyway. He opened his mouth, willing the words forward no matter how much he didn't want to. She needed to know.

"I..." he said, his mouth dry. His voice wasn't like when they spoke through an illusion of his body. It was weak, quiet, it strained him. But he had to say, "I did it before," his pronunciation was awful. His voice was ugly. He wished nothing more than to never speak again. This ugliness, however, needed to be clear to Princess Luna. Let her hear him butcher her language, let her know he was ugly on the inside too, "I killed before."

There it was, he said it. His mouth was now clamped shut again, and he would never speak. He wouldn't need to, now would he? Perhaps they would lock him up in a prison forever. Perhaps that was what he deserved.

The 'princess' whimpered quieter and quieter, sagging down. Wild knew it wouldn't be too long before she bled out even without him slitting her throat.

"Wild..." Luna said, and he forced himself to look at her. He didn't see what he expected to see - there was no disgust, no hate, no disappointment. Instead, there was... pity. Empathy. Sorrow, "I am so sorry you had to go through that. But you don't have to do it again."

His vision was blurry now. He recognized he was crying. The knife was in his grasp - maybe it would be easier to strike himself instead.

This thought disgusted him. He was alive. He could live. He liked this new world.

He didn't want to be gone.

Shouting wordlessly, he threw the knife away, then bounded away from the 'princess' and from Luna, running away. Just away, somewhere else.

He didn't care anymore. Everything was crashing down, and he was so stupid. Why did he tell Luna that he killed before? Now she knew. Now she wouldn't want to help him. He should've thrown the knife away the first time she asked. What was he thinking?

He was stupid. He was disgusting. He was nothing. He was an embarrassment. He was unneeded. He was a killer, a murderer. Luna knew, and soon others would know, and judging eyes would follow him, and everyone would look at him in disgust. He would be shunned, and rightly so.

To think that he could've made himself a life there... it was foolish, it was delusional.

He wished he could forget himself. He wished he could erase himself. A blank slate in his place would be better.

He realized he had run off to a lake. He could easily drown himself, now could he? One of the worst ways to die, or so he had heard. The most terrifying way to die, perhaps.

No, he wanted to live.

He dropped there and then, curling up, sobbing like never before, hoping it was all a nightmare. He would wake up soon. The attack never happened. None of this happened. He would wake up and forget it all. He would go to therapy, never mention this nightmare, never mention that he killed.

Yet Wild knew, there was no escape from reality.

Author's Note

This is a breaking point for Wild. Either he would sink back down or he would rise up.