“Oomph!” Air exploded from Orion's mouth as his back, with Gilda on top, crashed into the ground beneath them. His horn burned like fire and felt like someone had bashed it with a pipe hard enough to make his head feel like a warped gong. As he struggled to take in oxygen for his starved lungs, his temporary passenger rolled off of him to fix him with a glare.

“Orion!? Why did you-”

The Sergeant was interrupted once again. A hollow boom came from beneath them. The earth under them heaved violently, shucking both into the air as the bulge that had quickly built up and exploded outward, sending stones, dirt, and flames.

“Did we get them?!” Shouted Everbloom, anxious. The Hen wasn't with the colt, which was unfortunate. But as long as they managed to catch one, it was better than nothing, and they could more easily focus on the other later as the night progressed.

“No, ma'am. From what we can see, he managed to teleport out at the last moment and grabbed one of the griffons, too!”

“He can teleport?!” As far she understood his record, the pony had not yet been taught that invaluable skill. In fact, the spell was complicated enough that most unicorns had difficulty casting it or could not do it without linking with others.

Another thought crossed her mind, one that nearly made her growl. “Of course, Twilight Sparkle!”

Orion's undue influence upon the burgeoning mare had been a sore point for many who saw her as the pinnacle of what a unicorn could be. Undeveloped and naive as she was, there was much potential within the protege, even if her teacher was not somepony well beloved amongst her peers.

Many saw Celestia as a usurper. Stealing the rightful place for the one they called the Sun.

Truthfully, Everbloom never understood the logic behind that. Was the Princess not the Herald of the Day, and Usher of the Sun?

Still, the fact that her student had taught Orion Falls how to teleport at some point in time was alarming. However, it did explain a great deal of how he had been able to counter their magical assault so readily. She was forced to admit that she should have remembered or at least considered that fact already.

Shaking her head, she lamented the fact that the whole operation had been put together too quickly. While they had already been in the country, orders had narrowed the time frame in which they could prepare and act.

“Do you know where he went?” One of the scryers shook their heads, muttering to themselves. “What?” She demanded.

“The backlash from the attack has sent ripples in the local lines in the area.” Their lead, a lanky mare in ratty robes, spoke quickly. “Unfortunately, we will have to wait till they settle before we can find him with any accuracy again.” She wilted under her commander's hot glare. “Five, maybe six minutes. Ma'am.” She squeaked.

Sighing, she turned away, disgusted. Instead, her eyes studied the medical tent where too many soldiers milled about.

More injuries from the field, no doubt.

The healers' report on what was being used on her troops had been enlightening, to say the least, and gave her an idea of what to do next. Rather than send in more unicorns to potentially be slaughtered by a warren stuffed full of savages, they instead sent in a charged crystal with a fireball spell wedged into it.

Turnabout was fair play, after all.

“Begin another one.” She paused. “Make that two. We will have to be ready to try again the moment the magic field has stilled.”

“Ma'am, I must warn you, we don't have more than three gems, nor do we have enough casters to continue at this rate.”

Everbloom ground her teeth in frustration. They did have enough casters. But because she distrusted Drystan so much, she was unwilling to commit more to this assault, lest the griffon does turn on her the moment the battle was complete and her troops exhausted.

“Do what you can.” She said stiffly. Eyes lingering on the northern portion of the town. He was in there, somewhere, already likely pouncing in the chaos of her attack. The scar seemed to pulse with her anger.

Orion hacked, coughed, and spit as he struggled to push himself up from a briar bush he had landed in. His gaze wildly looked around for danger, but he couldn't see anything with all the dust kicked up into the air.

His clothes were torn and tattered. The orange shirt looked more like a cape than an actual garment at this point, snagging on every thorn and nearly tearing right off as he gingerly got unsteadily to his hooves.

“Gil-...Gilda…” He called out. His voice cracked painfully. His heart was beating wildly, and thoughts that he hadn't saved anyone but himself rolled around in his head as he desperately searched for her.

When the bomb appeared inside the hole, he acted on instinct alone, grabbing Gilda in a bear hug and activating the spell for teleportation immediately. It had been too far, and he could feel it pulse as his horn still smoked from the effort put into reaching past the limits of the distance of his ability. How had he done that?

Yet, through some miracle, they had escaped and been alive above the ground when suddenly all hell broke loose. Had the explosion gotten her anyway?

“Over here.” Came the Sergeant’s much more composed voice as she came into view, the smoke and dust dissipating on a stiff wind. “What the fuck was that?” She asked, glancing around them at the crater that once was their hideaway.

“The bastards copied me.” He growled sudden anger surged at being subjected to one of his own tricks. “Put a fuckin’ Fireball spell inside a gem and sent it through rather another assassin.”

Orion was beyond worried at this point. The equines arrayed against him have been trying to kill him specifically all night. Instead, all they got were a few soldiers in the wrong place.

“It's fucking Earth all over again!”

His grandparents had suffered because of his cowardice. Now, these people were dying due to his interference. Was it really so bad that they were poor?

The image of a mother hen weeping for a child limp in her arms crossed his mind. That thought only threw his competing notions into conflict with one another. His anger bled into uncertainty and fear.

“What should I have done?”

“Orion? Orion!” Again, he was shaken, this time from the mental fog threatening to lock up his brain. “On your pa-hooves, we have to move. If they could do that once, they can do it again!”

Gilda, with a grunt, hauled him up with little effort, and with a push, she got him moving in what direction he wasn't sure as his mind was still coming to terms with the fact they nearly died.

In silence, they jogged from broken wall to ruined shed, keeping to the shadows as much as possible.

Orion was moved on autopilot, his mind warring with the consequences of his actions as he tripped and stumbled after Gilda away from the flames.

Barney clacked his teeth nervously. It had been hours since this nightmare had begun, and he felt utterly useless as his Dogs ran to and fro while he sat and did practically nothing.

Well, not nothing exactly. He simply felt like a parrot repeating what was told to him.

Grace Fairheart had taken command immediately upon entering his people's home. He was truly grateful, as this situation was far above his experience and leadership abilities. He wasn't too proud to admit that.

But sitting there, only helping move the wounded or rush supplies to someone, left his mind to wander too much.

He was still a failure.

He felt he wasn't contributing anything to the battle and feared his initial command not to get involved had worsened their situation.

But what were a bunch of mutts supposed to do?! They had no training. No battle experience. Nothing! They were simply the leftovers of a hostile takeover and lost their strongest on the journey here. Sending his people out to fight would have been akin to suicide.

And the griffons understood that, yet here he was, perched on a boulder, just waiting for someone to tell him what to do.

Despite being out of the loop, he was far from stupid. Judging by Grace and Lonelycall’s faces, the battle was not going well, as each soldier who came calling left them with darker and darker features. Even in this blackened cave, he could see that.

It was just a matter of time at this point. The griffons in the village, just like his own pack, had no military training. No weapons to speak of unless you consider claws a weapon.

Other than a handful of soldiers, Grace Fairheart has brought back with her. They were truly outnumbered.

This night was a devastating blow to not just morale but life in general. He had finally secured his pack’s future. Only for it to be ripped away by some prick bandit unicorns with a grudge. Worse? While Barney didn't know what was going on or why they were here, he could speculate.

Orion. That pony had given a gift to the griffons, not to mention what he had done for his own people, and someone found out. Now, his follower's lives were in danger. Again.

Speaking of the colt, from what he could gather, that little whorse was out there, assisting the soldiers in fighting off the attackers.

The knowledge of that made his stomach roil. Orion Falls was out there, helping. Yet he stood idly by for demands he couldn't give himself.

Barney shook his head.

The problem was numbers. Somehow, the ponies had managed to sneak in a large enough force right onto their doorstep with none, not even the local ruler's notice.

However, now that he considered it, he and his own noticed odd vibrations in the walls for nearly a week. That vibration was likely them, moving about and readying for the slaughter. Oh, how stupid they had been not to at least check, but he figured it was just the increase in paw traffic from above as more griffons came in from hamlets to help with the project that was this town.

His fists balled up, and he struck a rock wall, causing material to explode apart. He ignored the new divot in the stone as he ignored the others staring at him warily. Worry was chief among the expressions his people had for him.

He could understand, especially because his sister was caught in one of the bombardments.

Tilly was laid up with the other injured. Half of her body had gotten scorched when a ball of fire that had exploded near the entrance. She had been guiding the griffons into the tunnel entrances, which was a direct violation of his do not get involved order.

Barney couldn't blame her, though. Had he thought clearly, he would have done the same had he not panicked and thought for but a moment.

Then, a mutt came in with demands for gems from the griffons, and he and his people were swept up into the flow of the battle.

With her injury, he was all alone and had no one to help figure out what to do. The hurt she had gotten had also angered him to new heights he did not believe possible.

“Fuck! There's gotta be a way to even the fucking odds! I want payback from those fuckin’ ponies!”

But what? Again, they did not have weapons. Or training. So what could they do to thin the numbers of the enemy? What could a lone Dog do?

Balo crossed his field of vision. The massive canine doing his best to avoid his leader's eyes as he shuffled away from him. He had been doing that for the majority of the evening.

“Heh, if I'd have thought anyone was going to get us killed, it would have been you, my big dumb friend.” The thought was bitter but held a bit of mirth to it.

Balo, the Iron Dog, had an unusual nose for trouble. More like getting himself and those around him into trouble. But looking back on it now, those were better times. If not for their arrival in Griffonia, maybe he could have been nicer to his former friend. The last incident that had snapped those strings of friendship had been when he had…

He paused. Thinking.

“Could we? No…no way…” His eyes widened.

“BALO!” He bellowed, getting everyone, including his targeted mutt, to jump. “Come ‘ere.” Barney crooked a finger, and his old friend gulped.

“Master Lonelycall, have you seen Barney Barker?” Grace asked, annoyance in her voice as she paced across the dark cavern. Oil lamps did little to illuminate the void with any real success, but at least she could place one paw before another as she avoided more litters of wounded being brought in.

“Lord Barker? I'm afraid not recently, my Lady.” He paused and tapped his beak. “I did hear him shouting at one of his own a little while ago.” He gazed around. “But I no longer see either of them here.”

In one of the deepest caverns the Iron Dogs had managed to dig into, they sat, huddled in the darkness and hoping for a miracle. The loss of the sky made her shudder, but the distance from the surface and potential invasions of the magical persuasion was more than sufficient to make her ignore her discomfort.

“Damnit all.” She clicked. “I've not heard from Thorncrest in an hour. I was going to send him for news.” She huffed.

Barney had proven excellent in taking orders, if not giving. However, his implementation of those commands was often inspired and cut through to what they needed quicker than most would have done. The Iron Dog pack leader was also fast at digging, second to only that one mutt called Balo, and had regularly delivered missives to Thorncrest through the use of his abilities.

Somehow, Iron Dogs, or she supposed all Dogs really, could dig tunnels and collapse them right behind them at the same time. Making it difficult to track them.

“Balo, yes. He could do.”

“What about Balo? Is he here?” She asked, thinking that the mutt, despite the broken Equish, could still relay messages at the very least.

“I'm afraid that was who Barney was yelling at.” The reedy secretary griffon said apologetically, a frown creasing his features.

Now, that was a surprise. What were the odds that both had suddenly gone missing? Shaking her head, she dismissed the question from her mind. Speculation was fruitless at this point, and she had no time.

“Then I'm going up. I need to know what is going on.” Turning, she proceeded toward one of the tunnels that slopped up.

“Are you sure that's wise, my Lady?” Lonelycall was quick to fall in with her.

“I can't do much more here, and the Iron Dogs and villagers have the situation in hand. I need to know what is happening before a new problem bites me in the tail feathers.”

They both ducked low and began the slow journey up to the surface. Behind them, Godrick watched, worry etching his features.

Drystan smiled to himself, not the first he allowed himself this evening, but one that he found increasingly making its presence a more permanent fixture on his beak.

Things were proceeding well now. Or as best as could be expected considering the unusual nature of his chosen assignment.

“Ah, I had forgotten what it felt like to get my claws dirty like this.” True, as his role as a fixer for his Mistress increased, he found himself with less and less time in the field. Getting his claws dirty with the real work.

The black griffon had decided to proceed slowly. Not just out of caution for the unexpected but because his initial push had cost him a number of his own. Only thirty-two remained from the fifty he had been allowed to bring with him.

“Or was it now thirty-one?” He mused a little sourly. Pushing the body into a ruined shed. It twitched but didn't make enough noise to alarm anyone about it. After the initial setback, this was a welcome outcome.

Perhaps his Mistress had been too hasty having him throw this operation together as quickly as he had done. It forced him to cut corners he was not happy about, and the patrol that had happened upon them was one such cost.

Still, he thought his soldiers were better trained than this. For so many to fall so quickly was unprofessional, and it irked him; this was supposed to be his elite force.

“Perhaps I have been away too long. Trusted them to carry out orders without my guiding hand to see it done correctly.”

His eyes swept across the town. The warm glow of the fires currently devouring homes and crops tugged at his beak again. However, there was a distinct lack of screams and chaos from the citizens themselves. Where were they? Did the unicorns managed to thin the herd with their assault?

“No, no.” He shook his head, eyes ever watchful for movement. “Odds are, they are holding in the Diamond Dog warrens.” If that was true, it was smart.

The ponies themselves would not risk diving into the holes, where experience told him provided too many choke points for the enemy to ambush and roundabouts that would allow sneak attacks from behind.

A pair of figures attempting to hide from the fire's light and from obvious pursuit rushed from ruined building to ruined building. The silhouette of a horn appeared when the one to the rear passed in front of a small blaze currently consuming a garden.

“Ah! Boreus is finally favoring me tonight.” He stalked forward a few paces, eyes tightening against the glare of the flames. The Pony had but one guard, but that didn't mean he should make a potential mistake now.

With the unicorns still in play out there, anything could happen.

“I hope I am not chasing you for nothing, my little pony. I want that book.”

Not for the first time did Gilda fight to keep a screech from ripping past her beak.

The wall still stood; by the evidence there weren't a hundred unicorns ripping through the town at that very moment, but nothing else was going right.

“Granted, we didn't have a whole lot of personnel to begin with, ya'd think there would be a least some griffons running around! Messagers? Squads? Something!”

She glanced behind her, checking to see if her charge was still following after.

Hunched like he was, the pony only seemed half there. Given their circumstances and what had nearly gotten them, she sympathized. They had just narrowly survived by the skin of their beaks, “I suppose it would be teeth for him.”

His eyes were wide, and his breath was shallow. He was definitely hyperventilating. It had been so easy to forget that he was still a fledgling. His manners, the way he acted, were like hanging out with a griff ten years her senior.

Now?

Now, Orion was dealing with the reality of war—of death. Judging by what she could see, he wasn't doing too well adjusting to it, and who could really blame him?

She stopped behind a still-standing stone wall, placed her hands on his shoulders, and pushed him into a sitting position.

“Orion, let's take a moment,” Gilda whispered, her eyes glancing around them for any movement.

“Okay.” He mumbled, not really looking at her, which pulled a sigh from deep in her breast.

What she had said before, underground before everything went to Tartarus, had been her honest opinion. The pony had been remarkable at adapting to the situation. In her opinion, coming up with a solution to counter the bombardment on the fly was a stroke of genius.

But it was settling in, and he was not dealing with it in a healthy manner, if such could be said with nearly dying several times this evening.

“Orion. Hey, Orion?” She shook him, and he finally looked at her. “It's okay. You're okay. We are alive. That's thanks to you.” They were. His quick thinking saved both of their lives, and she would be forever grateful for that.

“But the others…” He muttered.

Survivors' guilt. She had seen it before. Even experienced herself. She took note of him; his horn had finally stopped smoking, and from the look of things, whatever damage had been done was superficial. Yet, that could have easily been different had he tried to grab the others with them.

“Orion. Could you have taken all of us?” Gilda was trying to be gentle, but this was a battlefield, and the edge to her voice made her words harsher than she intended.

“...no…” he swallowed. “We'd have all died.” He trembled. “Fuck. It almost didn't work. That jump was farther than I should have been able to do.”

“Ah, that range issue you have, right?”

“Yeah…I think. I think I went twenty-o- uh. I think I jumped thirty-three? Yeah, thirty-three hooves. That's something close to fifteen paces….give or take.” He frowned. “That was way farther than I should have done.”

Gilda smiled. His mind was starting to focus. Hard numbers and analysis often pulled a soldier from their foggy mental state, and she was glad to see it was working on him, too.

“Yeah, that is amazing. And I'll buy you a drink later to celebrate the achievement. But listen,” she titled his head up with her hand, “there was nothing you could have done. You know that, right?”

He nodded. Then, he shook his head.

“No, that's bullshit. I gave them the idea of using crystals. That WAS on me.” He affirmed. “Had I not used gems to counteract their spells, they may not have thought to use it.”

“And had you not done that, how many townspeople would have died as a result?”

That stopped him in his tracks. His eyes widened.

“Orion, sometimes we get dealt a really shitty storm front. There are no good choices available to us. We can do right and still get screwed over.” She firmly jabbed him in the chest. “You,” she said fiercely, “saved a lot of lives tonight. You bought us time to get everyone we could to safety. Gave us a way to fight back.” Snorting, the Sergeant groused. “I only wish I knew how the fuck they found us.”

“Scrying.” He said simply.

“What?”

“They found us, with scrying. It's a part of divination, a mage craft taught in Equestrian schools for the older students. The simplest is the ability to “see” what you seek.” He frowned. “It's not an easy spell to use, often requiring more than one to cast depending on range and what they are looking for.” He set his back to the wall, his brow creased in worry. “Like teleportation, it takes advantage of local leylines.” The black pony tapped his muzzle. “Which means…it suffers from the same hang-ups.”

“Hang-ups?” Now was really not the time for him to be taking his ease. “Don't get comfy.”

“I don't think I can ever get comfy again. But, yeah, massive surges in magic can disrupt or vibrate the lines in a chaotic mess. It takes a bit for it to calm down before they can try again. That explosion,” he gestured back toward where they had dashed from, “likely created a huge ripple effect.” His eyes widened. “That's why I was able to jump so far! I rode the wave outward! Holy shit!”

“I'm…not really following. What does this mean?”

“Well, it's partly why I came out with my horn smoking for one. I grazed the magical wave front of the spell those jackasses used. My teleportation used their power to go further.” He chuckled. “Assholes gave us a boost.”

“That's…good?” Her patience was wearing thin.

“Yeah, but now we got the same problem: the ripples are starting to fade. Soon, they'll try again, and I wouldn't count on…maybe?” He paused, eyes darting back and forth.

Gilda was at the end of her rope. This was taking too long, and they needed to move now.

“What?!” She hissed at him. Orion ignored her.

“I can induce a new wave.” He said slowly, considering something she did not understand. “A new ripple. This will last longer, too. A couple of hours. Twilight said her brother was really good at this trick, and she showed me.” His horn slowly came to life. “If I just…”

Gilda Broadwing felt her insides shiver. In fact, the whole world around her seemed to warp in her eyes, and she found herself gasping on her hands and knees.

“What…” She was going to throw up. “Did…you do?!”

Instead of answering, the black pony bodily picked her up and ran away from the brick wall they had hidden behind.

“Was he always this strong?!” She thought in alarm. With her full kit, she was an extra few kilos heavier, and the black pony was carrying her over his shoulder like she weighed hardly a thing.

Suddenly, she forgot all about weight and what he had done. A ball of fire engulfed the wall in yellowish-red flames that sucked in on itself a second later.

Gilda didn't hear a thing as Orion was thrown off his hooves, carrying both of them into a miraculously untouched pile of hay.

The boom that washed over them as they lay prone rattled her beak and deafened her ears.

Looking over, the colt was grinning, speaking with gestures and a fist pump, but she couldn't hear a thing.

“WHAT?!” She cried out, and he gave her a quizzical look before his eyes widened. His horn glowed, and suddenly, the sound was returned to her painfully. Loudly. “Ah, damnit! What did you do?!”

“Yeah, sorry about that. Forgot to put PPS on you. My bad.” She glared at him.

“What is PPS?”

“It's a couple of spells cast simultaneously. Full name Personal Protective Spells. It shields eyes and ears from loud noises and bright flashes.” He grinned. “You're lucky I can heal your ears. My ability with healing is shitty. Very shitty.”

“I'll keep that in mind.” Climbing out of the hay pile, she dusted herself off and checked for any injuries. Everything seemed to be fine besides a few new dents to the armor. “What did you do?”

“Ah, well.” He began, taking the hand she offered to help him out. “I created a warp in the magical field again. This time and even greater wave.” Gesturing to the smoldering crater that had been their hiding place, he continued. “I essentially used Shining Armor's spell to grab ahold of the leylines and yank them as hard as I could. However, that also highlighted our location, and I knew they would try hitting us again the moment it did that.”

“And you went ahead and did it anyway?!” Gilda was livid.

“Hang on, I have a good reason. Something I have learned, and I'm not really sure many others know this, is that if you leave the power control portion of the spell fully open, you can take advantage of another power source. In this case, I'm not so good at doing that trick Twilight taught me. I lack the finesse she and her brother have. So instead.” He grinned. “I used the magical output of their attack to boost the effect further. Now, this wave will last HOURS. And they won't be able to find shit if it was sitting in front of them!”

“That was the spell sucking in on itself?”

“Yep!”

“Why the explosion?”

“Ah, the spell overloaded. Had I tried to hang on and direct it, I would have blown apart instead. Just like I almost did earlier when I teleported us the hell out of there.” He shrugged. “The air pressure became the problem. That's why we went flying.”

It made sense. Sort of. Gilda really didn't understand magic, but Orion had a good way of explaining it enough that she wasn't completely lost.

“Hours? Is that right?”

“To be more precise, I'd say we get six or seven, tops. There was a lot of power behind that one. I think they dialed it up on us.”

Gilda grinned at him. “Feel better?”

Orion paused and regarded her with confusion, then his eyes widened. “Huh, yeah. I guess I do…somewhat.” He frowned. “No way I'm gonna be able to talk to my therapist about…this.”

Nodding, she turned and pointed. “I’ll see if Eber knows one, now let's get the fuck out of here. We have to find-”

“Gilda? Orion?!”

The Sergeant blinked in surprise as both Lady Fairheart and Master Lonelycall appeared out of the haze.

“My Lady!” She exclaimed, rushing over to her liege lady. “What are you doing out here?”

Huffing, Grace stepped around some fallen debris. “Trying to get information about the dispensation of our forces.” She gazed at Orion. “Where are your guards, Orion?”

“Now, what was that?” He asked himself, mildly perturbed by this sudden obstacle.

Actually, he was a bit more than annoyed. Just as Drystan had closed the gap between him and the Pony, said whorse suddenly burst from his hiding place. Some soldier, likely the one leading him around the town, was slung over his shoulder, and he was running for all he was worth.

Had he somehow detected him?

That was about all the warning the midnight-colored griffon had before the sun appeared right before his eyes and nearly swallowed him up. If not for the quick jump back of his paws and flap of his wings, he was sure he would have lost his arm, outstretched as it was.

That had been easy. However, he had not anticipated the soundless knockback that sent him skittering across the ground like a stone on a still pond.

Now standing, he regarded the hole that replaced the wall that had just been there a moment before.

“My eyes…why the sudden blurriness of my eyes?” It had been his only indicator that something was amiss. It forced his instincts to go on high alert, and just in time, too, as he leaped back to avoid the worst of the explosive force.

His only conclusion was that the unicorns were somehow able to find the Equestrian by means he did not quite understand. Judging by what had happened here, they had tried to simply obliterate him where he stood.

That would not do. What if he has the book on him? All his work would be ruined.

With an annoyed huff, he peered around, looking for where the Pony and his sack of guard had gone. He would be beyond merely annoyed if his quarry escaped him and got away completely.

The haze of smoke and dust kicked up from the explosion was difficult to navigate and may have hindered his sight. However, his ears worked just fine.

Voices could be heard distantly off to his left.

“There you are. And what's this?” The voices he could hear were more numerous than two could produce. “Could that be you, little Hen?” Stalking forward, Drystan could only thank the god Boreas for this sudden turn of good fortune.

“Winds guide and preserve them,” Grace whispered after hearing what had happened to them in the tunnels. I'm grateful that you've survived, Orion, and you as well, Sergeant.” It wasn't an afterthought. Orion could see it in her expression: she was overwhelmed and unable to process the loss of so many soldiers all at once.

Lonelycall stood behind her, that odd look from the hall on his face warning with the concern he directed toward his Lady.

Was he constipated?

“I am too, my Lady. If not for this colt, I'd have been buried under a mound of dirt right about now.” Gilda punched him in the arm, and he grunted in response.

In truth, Orion was not doing too well. Since the moment the attack had begun, his mind had been in high gear, too busy to contemplate what was really happening around him. That had been good, and it had kept him from freezing up. If not for the Sergeant, he might have ended up in a funk that would have been difficult to pull out of.

It took another attack by the asshole unicorns to really pull his head out of his ass, though. There was no time for introspection. Whether he did right or wrong could and should be put off for whatever deity actually ran this world this world to consider later. Hopefully.

“Say.” A sudden thought popped into his head. “Speaking of sitreps, what the fuck are you doing up here, Grace?” The idea that the only royal out and about with no guard, save for the Steward behind her, bothered him greatly. “Shouldn't you be, like, squirreled away in some hole somewhere?”

“I was in the Warrens. Unfortunately, communications have broken down, and I am in the dark about what is happening.” Her frown deepened. “I came to get answers myself, as both Barney and Balo have disappeared.”

Orion groaned and ran both hands over his face.

“Of course, the little shit fuckin' bailed.”

“And the others?” Gilda's question had startled him. He hadn't even thought of the other Iron Dogs. Perhaps they took off, too.

“Both the villagers and the residents of the Warren are safe. They are tending to themselves, and are about as comfortable as we can make them. I didn't want to pull what few guards we had to do this. They are needed there. Just in case the worst happens.”

“Huh, thought they would have bailed too.” Everyone looked at him, and he realized too late that he had said that private thought out loud. “Ah, shit. I just…um.” Waving his hands in the air, he collected himself quickly, shame making the insides of his ears darken. “I just thought that if Barney took off, they would too.” Grace gave an uncomfortable shrug.

“I do not believe that Dog would do such a thing. His sister was injured in the initial attack. So, if anything, he might want revenge.” Eberhard had finally spoken up. The odd slim secretary griffon was not only stricken with a strange expression, but his tone seemed strained.

“What is up with this guy?”

“That is a good point, Master Lonelycall.” His friend said softly, tapping her beak. “Though, whatever he may be up to, I hope it does not prove to our disadvantage.”

“My Lady!” Shouted a new voice.

Behind them, out of the gloom of dirt and dust kicked up by recent explosive activities, came Thorncrest, his coterie of officers, and a small band of guards. The sight of them was a welcome relief to the colt. He had feared the worst.

“Commander!” Grace called back, the worry in her tone having lessened as much as his worries. “What news of the battle?”

Jogging up to them, the lithe griffon captain saluted smartly, and the hen waved it away.

“None of that right now. What is going on?” She said without a trace of acid in her voice.

“My Lady, the walls still hold.” His smile was grim. “The attack has stalled, but we do not know for how long. They could push any moment now. But I must ask, why are you out here? You should be safe, below.”

“I would, but communications have been sporadic at best. I have not had any news, and those I could rely on are either missing or better suited to the task of guarding.” Grace said her vexation was not directed at any one person but at the entire debacle itself.

“That's impossible, my Lady. I have sent regular updates every ten or so minutes.” Thorncrest paused. “We had actually come to find out why you had been keeping our messengers.”

Whatever response his friend gave faded into the background. Eyes widening in alarm, Orion focused on his radar that had suddenly alerted him to a potential problem, and his blood went cold.

Around them were twenty or more signatures he did not recognize. Their presence seemed to warble slightly as they moved, almost like they weren't there.

“HEADS UP!” He shouted, pushing Grace away from him as a tall, completely black griffon, armor and all, seemingly appeared out of thin air between them not a second later. The long, slender blade, obviously meant for her, narrowly missed them both as it struck thin air.

Thorncrest wasted no time. Ripping his sword from his scabbard, he struck at the assassin, only to strike air himself as the bird-cat leaped into the air and landed away from them, carried on his wings with ease.

“TO ARMS!” He bellowed, not that he needed to. As others had already drawn their own weapons and turned to meet the quickly appearing force around them. “ASSASSINS IN THE RANKS!”

Grace, her mace slinging wildly, crushed an attacker’s arm, obliterating the limb in a spray of blood and flying metal as the armor buckled under her heavy weapon.

Rather than be hindered by the loss of balance and use of their primary weapon, they instead lashed out with a dagger pulled swiftly from a small sheath at their waist.

She grunted in surprise but struck out herself with her offhand, claws extended, and dodged the blade to slash at their neck. Her fingers found purchase, and she tore away the meat and cloth her talons had found purchase there. Narrowly, the hen dodged a second swipe with the blade and stepped quickly back.

To her great dismay, the assassin had not given up. While their steps quickly lost their drive, they still managed a few more strikes toward her before falling forward, face crashing into the ground with a slight crunch. Their only voice being gurgles of blood that gushed out to stain the ground beneath them.

Grace was afraid. The dedication in that attack, even as they were grievously wounded, spoke of zealotry rarely found in random killers for hire. But she could not focus on her slain opponent.

Turning, she surveyed the skirmish and found surprisingly good news. Most of the attackers, from what she could see as she avoided the flurry of slashes directed toward her, were down. Lonelycall bore a few cuts as he stood amongst three of the enemy's dead. Thorncrest’s left arm hung limply at his side, yet his sword arm remained strong and upright.

She wished the same could be said of most of his command staff. Yet, they had fought bravely. The battle had been over quickly, almost too quickly.

“Master Lonelycall, are you okay?” Grace called, worried about her advisor.

“I am well, my Lady. Merely knicks and scratches. Nothing more. I had the advantage, as I am sure many of our own did.” She raised a single eyebrow at him, and he grimaced. “It seems they were focused entirely on you, my Lady. It allowed us to get the upper hand on our foes.”

Grace Fairheart’s eyes hardened.

“What do you mean?” The bite, despite her best efforts, was there in her voice. Her face bore no apologies.

“I have to concur, my Lady,” Thorncrest spoke up, eyes scanning as one of his hauptleutes worked to bandage his arm in a sling. “They largely ignored us, save for a few slashes to put us off. I do not believe they expected such opposition, considering we were taken by surprise.”

Eberhard nodded, his own gaze sweeping about them.

“It is so.” He said. “They attempted to murder you, my Lady.” He shook his head. “Yet that allowed us a chance to strike at them, and victory was ours.” He grinned. “And Commander, we were not completely caught off guard. We have to thank the young Master Falls for his fortuitous warning. “He raised an eyebrow of his own. “As well as thank him for saving your life, my Lady.”

Grace nodded. Orion had pushed her out of the way at the last possible minute. Crying out as he saved her life from a blade clearly bound for her breast.

Speaking of her friend, where was he?

“Orion? Where are you?” She called, hoping to thank her friend quickly and get them moving from what was now hostile territory.

Nothing.

No smart-ass response. No stumbling pony calling back, happy to be alive.

“Sergeant,” her voice rose. The alarm she felt was mirrored in the others around her. Sergeant Broadwing did not respond either.

“Master Falls?” Lonelycall cried out, his eyes not on the village now slowly coming into view as the dust finally dissipated, but at the ground. Her heart rate spiked.

“FIND HIM!” The fear in her voice only seemed to heighten her panic.

Moments passed, as every griffon still standing searched frantically about the immediate vicinity of the ruined town, seeking any sign the colt and griffon with him could have gone.

Eberhard Lonelycall came to her after a while. His eyes were puzzled.

“My Lady.” He began softly. “He is not here. Neither is Sergeant Broadwing.”

“Then-”

“I do not believe him slain.” He said, a slim hand touching her shoulder gently. “If Sergeant Broadwing is not here as well, I can only assume she got him out of the fray the moment the battle commenced.” He shook his head. “My only worry is where they could have gone.”

Grace blinked and realized tears were falling down her feathered cheeks.

“We have to find him.” It was very hard to keep her voice from shaking.

“And we shall, my Lady. But you will not be helping in that search.” His hand rose to forestall her protest. “This is not a suggestion. Neither I nor Commander Thorncrest are going to budge on this. Those assassins were meant for you. Possibly both of you, but you for certain.”

“We cannot go back to the tunnels.” Her tone did not waver this time, duty replacing her worry. If the assassins were after her, leading them back to the citizens below would just mean a bloodbath.

“No. You cannot. I will continue the search. I am well acquainted with the area and less injured than I look. You shall go with the Commander back to the wall.” His expression darkened. “As reluctant as I am to put you so close to the enemy, that is likely your safest place at this time. I am told they have a few homes still standing. An HQ has been set up there to direct our efforts.”

Grace nodded. Worry for Orion pushed aside. However, a pang in her gut said her concern should be shared equally with Gilda’s safety as well.

“O-okay.” She said after a moment. “Please be safe.” Eberhard nodded gently and turned to leave before her hand shot out to grip his arm. “Please…find them.”

“I will put all my focus to this task, my Lady. I shall not fail you.” With that, the reedy secretary charged into the darkness, his form disappearing among the rubble.

Grace Fairheart's eyes looked into the gloom.

“Please, Orion. Please be okay.”

“I am not okay! I AM NOT FUCKING OKAY!”

His mind screamed as he dodged yet another dagger flung out of the dark. Seeing it coming and being able to make use of that information with panic flooding his brain in overdrive was not something Orion had ever thought he would have to deal with.

Gilda had been lost sometime in the mad dash to get away from combat. Her attempt to save him had been thwarted when three more assassins popped out of the haze and struck at him. At that point, he simply beat hooves and ran as fast as possible. He hoped she was okay.

In his naive days, he had fantasized about how he would always have the upper hand, with his enchantments guarding his surroundings with impunity. This would allow him to see danger coming miles away and anticipate whatever would be thrown at him.

The reality was that seeing a thing, in this case, a dagger, and knowing how to not only avoid the weapon but dodge debris and collapsed walls on top of it was a bit too much for his mind to process.

“Let's not forget some asshole is TRYING TO KILL ME!!”

Seeing an opening in a crumbled wall, he slid into the hole just as another blade struck the stone frame with a loud ping sound.

It had to be by luck alone that he hadn't died yet. His limbs propelled him bodily from one hiding spot to the next, only to be found moments later when the first griffon who had tried to kill Grace would appear and slash at him. If not for the short Blink spell he made for himself, he would have died four holes ago.

But this couldn't last. His horn was screaming at him for relief. The ache that had slowly gone away had returned tenfold and now made his head feel like a drum.

Shattering that nullstone ring was nothing compared to what he was experiencing now.

That griffon, he recognized the crow-like face now that he had managed to get a look at him, was Drystan.

“What in the hell is Rosecunt’s personal secretary doing here?!”

Though to call him a secretary might be stretching it. Thug might be more accurate in this case. Or assassin, considering how he had gotten so close so quickly.

The one time he had locked eyes with the bird-cat during the dinner some weeks back had been one of pure hostility the moment they had locked eyes.

He had avoided the bastard’s glare as much as possible from then on.

Now he was being chased by the fucker, and only by sheer determination and a generous amount of what must be god-like intervention, he was surviving.

The real issue was that while he could easily see and somewhat avoid the weapon slashes and thrown daggers, he could barely make out the drake himself. Even with the radar working in his favor, the killer was a wavy silhouette in his mind, as if he was not quite there. Through what could have been called reckless experimentation, he shut down the radar portion of the cylindrical bead and realized that it was the rangefinder that had been picking the bastard up.

The realization of that fact almost cost him his head, as he narrowly avoided being decapitated as the griffon had gotten way too close.

Crouching, he kept low inside the ruins of the house he was in. Orion's first foray into one of these temporary shelters had been a lesson in not breathing in smoke.

“Hot air rises, duh.” He didn’t want that smoke filling his lungs at such a crucial moment as this.

Keeping his head down, he peered out the windows, searching for his assailant. The problem with the rangefinder in this situation was that all he was getting was the room he was in and a little return from outside. The moon's crescent light was not doing much to illuminate the surrounding area either, so seeing anything was next to impossible.

“I must say, Pony, that I had not expected you to be so wiley a prey to catch.” Drystan's deep, sonorous voice made him jump, but his eyes quickly found the crow's location.

Stepping out of the shadows cast by one of the collapsed granaries across the street came the black-clothed drake. Looking at him now, Orion could see that the griffon was not in just cloth but a kind of blackened scale mail that covered most of his body. That much metal should have made a noise, but he had not heard a damn thing before narrowly dodging to save his own hide.

“Should I answer him?” He shook his head at the question. Of course, he shouldn't answer the bastard trying to kill him.

“I had been told the spell would last the whole night. How is it that you can tell where I am?” He asked, halting a dozen feet away from his hiding place of the moment. “How is it,” he paused, peering through the window at him, “that you were able to anticipate our attack?”

“Ah…shit.” So much for hiding. He was running out of options. All the casting he had been doing this night, and subsequent teleportations, big and small, were pushing him to the edge of Scouring. Orion was running on fumes.

“I'm psychic, asshole.” Oh, how he wished he had not said that. Movies had not been a good reference point for being a smartass to those trying to kill you. Instead of pissing them off to make a mistake, it was much more likely they would simply redouble their efforts. And judging by the ease with which Drystan brought up that slim short sword of his, the latter was once again going to prove true.

“I highly doubt that.” He responded acidly, cocking his head to one side. The griffon surprisingly spoke again. “I shall not tell you that you will be spared if you surrender. No, Pony, I intend to kill you tonight.” Bringing up a single claw, he continued. “However, I can make your death quick and painless, should you just hand over that little notebook you keep upon yourself. My Mistress would hate for your blood to stain it.”

“Double shit.” How they knew of his notebook was beyond him, but there was no way in hell he was giving it to this fucker.

“Notebook? What notebook?” His eyes shot past his intended killer. Seeking rescue.

“Do not play stupid with me, Pony. I know you have it on you. At this point, I have seen it several times. Hand it over.” Drystan’s eyes narrowed. “If you are hoping for help, no one is coming. The one who had accompanied you is not coming to save you.” Orion’s stomach sank as the black griffon shook his head. “A shame, my fellow countrygriff chose to fall. She fought quite the fight, killing three of my own before I clipped her wings. I expect she to have bled out by now.”

Bile tried to rise, but his throat had constricted tightly, allowing only air to pass through. And only just.

“Gilda? Dead?” His mind flooded with recent memories of her laughing, sharing smuggled cider with him. Making fun of him at his own expense. The confidence she seemed to exude when in her official capacity as a guard.

Silently and without his realization, tears fell down his cheeks. That Hen had become his friend throughout his stay in Griffonia, and now she was gone.

At this point in any story, Orion should be filled with righteous anger and burst from the ruined home to confront and kill this drake. But the knowledge that even she had fallen rooted his hooves to the ground and turned his limbs to jelly.

For the first time since laying eyes on Drystan, the griffon smiled.

“My Lady, the unicorns seemed to be readying a push.” A soldier, rank unknown, as most of the armor on her troops had been scorched or dented to make identification illegible.

“Shit.”

Since her arrival at what had become the forward operating base, the attacks on her forces had been sporadic. This was obviously meant to keep them penned in as the enemy's main host gathered their strength.

They were in dire straits without Orion to provide them with a countermeasure to another bombardment.

Standing, she strode past the messenger. Grace needed to see with her own eyes and was tired of only getting part of the picture.

It didn't take her long to get to the wall, and she marched up the steps quickly.

Not quickly enough, because Thorncrest appeared at the top, his eyes going wide and his hands making a stop gesture.

“My Lady, you shouldn't be here if they should see you-”

“If it is as bad as I think it is,” the noble hen pushed him aside, “then does it really matter if I am in shelter or not? Those fireballs will tear through that church with little effort. I want to see.”

And see, she did. Her heart rose in her throat while her stomach dove toward her paws.

Out past the smoldering fires, the wrecked battering rams that their foes had created, and the dead that littered the ground between, the enemy gathered.

“Double shit.” The curse slipped past her beak as she watched the enemy's ranks appear from smoke and fire in ordered lines.

“What was that, my Lady?” With wringing hands, one clutching the bandaged one, her Commander chose to join her at the balustrade.

“Nothing. It's not important.” It was with a heavy heart that she acknowledged the battle was over. With Orion, they had a chance to stall but no real hope of winning. It was simply a numbers game, and the Colts just couldn't hope to match it.

Her mind drifted as she watched the enemy advance, slowly picking up steam.

The townsfolk were doomed. The ponies would not leave a soul alive. The Iron Dogs, those brave mutts who had not run the moment the attack began, even if they had first cowered in their holes, had been remarkable at helping to secure the wounded. Often carrying the injured in their arms as they bore them into the tunnels of their Warren. They might survive if they dug deep and fast enough. Instead, they chose to help.

Would her Uncle listen to any who might speak of what happened here?

“Sir, scouts have spotted activity to the north.” Came a report from another messenger.

“Do not tell me the ponies had yet another army in the area…”

“What is it?” Thorncrest barked.

“We are not certain, Sir. The report says there are two Diamond Dogs out there.” Grace's eyes widened as they swung toward the messenger, a young ensign.

“What did you say?” She asked unsteadily.

“Two, Diamond Dogs, Ma'am.” The officer looked worried. “Is that wrong?”

“Two Iron Dogs, Ensign.” She admonished absently. “Was…was one of them really tiny? Shorter than the other?”

Glancing at the slip in his hand, he nodded. “Yes, Ma'am. Two, uh, Iron Dogs. One diminutive in size compared to the other.”

“What were they doing?” It had to be Barney and Balo, but why were they outside the walls?

“Running. Ma'am. Running like the Northwinds were chasing them.” Invoking the Northwinds was basically saying a demon was chasing them, for those Winds took many lives each year when winter swept in without remorse from the icefields.

Grace's eyes turned back toward the approaching force. What were they up to?

“SIR!” Yet another messenger, flying at breakneck speed, thudded into the floor of the upraised platform. “Sir,” she panted. “Sir, something is chasing the two Diamond Dogs! We didn't get a good look, though it is pale and large.”

“What? Something is chasing them?” Thorncrest seemed to be stuck in a repeat manner, and she was not going to have it.

“Where are they headed.” She demanded, cutting off further debate on what it was.

The Sergeant, likely a veteran by the look of her, stepped back and gulped.

“T-toward the…enemy, Ma'am?” She squeaked out.

“THIS IS CRAZY! THIS IS CRAZY!”

The little voice in the back of his mind had gone from soft and quiet to loud and abrasive. It was his mother's voice, the one that often tempered his anger with remembered words of wisdom. She had balanced out his father's much more fierce side, making them a ruling combo to be feared and respected back in the day.

He had to agree with that voice. It was ridiculous. Balo had tried very hard to talk him out of this fool plan, but he could either die in a hole with his tail tucked between his legs or die on his paws, head held high.

He was so very tired of having his tail between his legs.

He wondered if his father would be proud of him now.

Behind them, the crash of trees being struck aside as the behemoth they had antagonized an hour before chased after them through the forest. Other than the initial scream upon spotting them, the beast had made no other sound. But the underbrush easily gave its location away as it plowed past them.

Barney’s lungs burned. He had never run this much or for this long. His little legs were not meant for this, and he was not meant for this.

“What happened to letting Balo lead the damn thing?!”

What happened was what always happened when he planned something by himself. It went wrong.

Bursting from the tree line, he spotted the band of unicorns approaching the town walls. Already, many horns were glowing, likely making the first formations of the bombardment spells splinter their fortifications and break inside.

“Just in time.” He thought ruefully. At least something was going right tonight.

“Balo! You remember the plan?!” He shouted, garnering the attention of a few puzzled ponies in the rear ranks. Their heads whipped around to spy them out.

“Yep! Dig!” Balo panted. His underling was close enough, and he had no time to repeat himself.

“Right! On my signal! We have to make sure It sees them first, or this has been pointless!” He did not want that thing chasing them back into the dirt. It was fast! Far too fast for them to outpace much longer.

With a cry, he redoubled his efforts, legs burning in agony as he charged right for the enemy formation, who in turn began to shift to meet them.

Everbloom was not completely happy. The failed assassination of Orion Falls had made her furious.

Something had gone disastrously wrong. That last attempt had created a ripple that just wouldn't stop.

However, it seemed he was at least out of the picture for the time being. Drystan must have found him because the flashes of a magic signature, from what her scryers could detect blind as they were, were getting further and further away.

Finally, things were beginning to go her way.

It hadn't been hard to spot Grace Fairheart sitting pretty on top of her little wall. While her first thought was to have a few unicorns link and kill her with a magic missile, she felt spiteful and wanted the hen to watch as her inevitable victory came crashing down on her.

“Ma'am! Two Diamond Dogs are charging right at us!”

“Two what?” Turning, she saw the puzzling spectacle of two mutts charging right for her north lines. One, the shorter of the pair, was even screaming. “Have they gone mad?”

She should have been paying more attention behind them. They all should have. The roar made a fair number jump, including making those who had fired spells at the running pair completely miss the first volley of blasts aimed at the still-running dogs. Somepony was being proactive, at least.

Looking up and past them, her own shriek left her mouth. A pale creature burst from the treeline, eyes focusing on them with a hungry four-eyed gaze.

The massive beast was born across the ground on two legs, its long, thick body creating a ditch as it clawed its way across the ground.

It had no horns, yet it had what looked to be vestigial wings perched on its back. Rough and decimated, they twitched with what she could only imagine was glee.

The monster roared again.

“WHAT BY THE SUN IS A BASILISK DOING HERE?!”

“NOW, DIG YOU FOOL!” He wasn’t sure if that was for him or Balo. Suiting his own words, Barney dove to the ground, his paws parting the dirt like jelly as he tore into it, quickly submerging his body below the earth.

Hopefully, with them out of sight so suddenly and a new snack just sitting there, waiting for it to bite into, the Basilisk would hopefully ignore their absence and go right for the bigger meal. At this point, the thing had to be starving, right?

“I hope Balo got out of there.” With the crash of a massive body and the thudding of many hooves, he couldn't hear much of anything else. “Please be safe, old friend.”

Grace could only stand in awe and horror.

She had secretly dismissed Orion's claims of a Basilisk living in the abandoned portions of the old Warrens the Iron Dogs had once lived in. How could she have really believed in a creature that was more myth than reality?

The Roc had been one thing, but the second, even more, rare creature of death living below the ground not a few miles away had to be a fabrication, right?

Apparently not, as the beast turned its gaze from the Iron Dogs, who were quickly vanishing into the dirt below, right onto the front of the line of startled and clearly frightened ponies. Who were so terrified they had fired off several magical shots, missing Barney and his underling by mere paces.

“What, by the Winds, is that?!” Thorncrest's voice broke her from her reverie.

“That, Commander Thorncrest, is Orion's Basilisk.” She responded. Her voice was a strange mix of panicked calm.

Something else has broken into her thoughts. Something Orion Falls had mentioned as if it were an afterthought when he was planning out the town’s new defenses and supports.

“It seems Basilisks hate Iron.”

—---

Everbloom screamed again. This time in command.

“FIRE!! FIRE EVERYTHING YOU GOT! FIRE FOR OUR LIVES!”

Grace and her remaining officers watched, as the Basilisk, magical attacks seeming to bounce off its hide without slowing it down, crashed into the first row of screaming, terrified ponies. It began spraying a green mist in all directions.

Cries of fear turned into bellows of agony as the green haze swept over the first few rows of troops. Where it touched, flesh turned to stone, sending the unicorns into paralytic agony. They fell to their knees, clutching at the place they had been struck, only for the miasma to flow over them and complete the job as it spread deeper into the ranks of hapless soldiers.

It did not stop there. As shrieks of terror wailed on, it dove its muzzle into the mass of panicked unicorns and bit down. The sound of flesh and stone cracking under the tremendous bite force of the creature, the Basilisk began to eat. Viscera sprayed everywhere with each victim it found, and blood splattered skyward when it reeled back to angle its meal down its gullet.

“I think I'm gonna be sick, Sir.” Muttered one of the lieutenants.

“Me too, Brackfeather.” Responded Thorncrest, revulsion clear in his voice.

Grace could only nod. In her brief time as the niece to Sigurd Bloodbeak, she had been subjected to death on more than one occasion in one fashion or another. But this was a level of brutality the hen was unprepared to witness.

“Don't just stand there and gawk like a bunch of pups at their first rut!” Shouted an all too familiar voice behind them.

Slowly, as one, they turned to Barney. The Iron Dogs’ leader, covered in dirt and breathing heavily, had a grin on his face that said he knew exactly what happened.

“B-Barney?” She began slowly. “How did you come up with that?!” She jabbed a finger at the carnage behind them.

“A story for later, my…Lady.” The words seemed awkward and unpracticed, but they were genuine. “Right now, we need to get as many chunks of iron as possible and prepare to hole up in the Warrens. That beast is going to finish his meal soon and will want to find a new hole to burrow into.” Suiting his words, he picked up a clump of earth and sniffed it. “Or try and kill us, at the very least.”

“We help!”

Behind Barney came a mix of Griffon and Iron Dog civilians. Aspen stood at their head, looking angry as she wielded a crude axe in both hands. They stood in line, grim faces set. In their hands, various farming equipment was reworked into makeshift polearms and rudimentary swords.

“What?” Was about all Grace could get out before one of the smiths stepped forward. Godrick, his face a mask of grim determination.

“My Lady, when we heard ya was going out to confront the enemy. We couldn't sit by any longer.” Others nodded behind him, including several of the Dogs. “Ya did so much for us. The pony did so much for us. We can't just stand aside and hope for protection from others. This is our home.” He stabbed the blunt end of his spear into the ground. “Now, I know we've come too late to fend off ponies. But we've got iron weapons, I and the boys,” he cocked his head as the new word born from the mutts entered his vocabulary, “didn't have time to make anything with the new steel. So maybe this is for the better.”

Her eyes drifted over the weapons, and she could not help but feel proud. It had been a very long time since she had seen anyone with that hopeful determination in their eyes. For too long since she had arrived, she had witnessed nothing but bent backs and sorrowful faces. No fight in the common griff, for it had long been beaten out by hardship and starvation.

This was a great turn for her people. They had something to protect, something to cherish, even if it was all to ruin. They tasted better days and would have them again, whether by effort or violence.

“Well, whatever we decide to do, we better do it quick. We got trouble.” When had Barney climbed up the stairs?

Matching his gaze, she swiftly saw the problem.

The enemy army had broken. Shattered would be a more precise word to use. Those still alive and not either chewed or turned to stone were running for all they were worth. Which would be great, save for one problem. A great many of them were running toward the wall, drawing the Basilisk’s attention toward the town.

“Fuck!” She cursed. “Commander!”

“Yes, my Lady!” He called back, but rather than wait for orders, he gave them. “Archers! To your positions, I want you to make a new species of pony, Porcucorns!”

Grace's eyebrows rose, and she gave the normally stoic officer a quizzical look. A small smile quirked his beak. Perhaps there was more to the often subdued drake than she suspected.

“FIRE!”

Dozens of bows snapped.

“I grow tired of waiting, Pony.” For some reason, Drystan had given him more time than he would otherwise deserve. The why was a mystery, and Orion really couldn't find it within himself to question it.

“Doesn't matter. I'm a dead man.” How had wanting to help some folks turned into his own death warrant? He was trying to do right this time around!

“Pony. Come out. Now!” The drake snapped at him.

He gripped the satchel tightly. Despite all the hopping and jumping around, the strap had somehow managed to keep the man-purse on him through it all.

“This is so fucked! What do I do?!” He was dead. He knew it. The moment he stepped out, he was going to die.

“Grace.” Tears streamed down his cheeks. She had not deserved this. He had brought hell to her people for his own idea of self-atonement. Then there was Gilda.

His face contorted into fury.

“You know what? If I'm gonna die, he's still not gonna get shit!” If this was truly the end for him, he was going to make that bastard bird pay for it.

Slowly rising to shaky hooves, no amount of anger could get them to stop. He stepped forward. It was so hard to follow that up with the next.

“Finally.” The resonant voice of Drystan spoke. Obvious satisfaction echoed in that tone, his beak quirking into a smile the black colt could hardly see.

Placing one hoof before the other, he gingerly walked into the dim light of the crescent moon.

“There. It seems even ponies can make the logical conclusion when their number is up. Now. The bag.” The black griffon held out his free hand. “Toss it here. Nice and easy.”

Orion did not do that. Instead, he chucked it at the bastard and dove to the side, scrambling for what was left of a wall he had spotted before.

Before leaving Equestria, he installed a gem into the spine of his notebook. This crystal was attuned to his magical signature and his alone.

Magic exists in all things in this world. And everyone living, even inanimate objects, has a magical signature. With that thought in mind, the black pony, every day of his stay in Griffonia, cast a spell into the gem, ensuring the contents inside the bag would remain confidential. One way or the other.

As the satchel drifted within the five-foot range he had set before taking this plunge, the crystal detonated. The explosive fireball consumed his notes, his books, everything that was inside and rapidly expanded toward the stunned griffon. The momentum of the blazing orb took it right into the now not-so-confident Drystan not so smug face.

With a shriek of panic and rage, the drake attempted to fly backward, but it was too late. Flames enveloped him, and that was all he could see of his adversary after he fell with a thump onto the cold stones beneath him.

Moments passed, and the colt hesitated to look. Afraid it had not been enough, Drystan was merely waiting for him to come out.

Orion peered above his hiding place. “Did I get him?” Those words seemed to tug at something inside, painfully so.

Peering over the edge of a stone wall, he spotted him. On the ground, now several feet away, lay the corpse of his assassin. The armor was still smoking in the moonlight.

“Holy. Shit.” He muttered, slowly rising to stand over the griffon. “I killed him…” Another painful tug in his guts. “What is wrong with me?”

Rising slowly, he approached the downed killer. Looking over the body with a critical eye. Any movement, and he would run as hard as he could.

The slash below his chest caught him completely off guard, even though he had been looking for it. He screamed out, falling back to land on his ass. One hand pulled him along as the other clutched at the wound, now pulsing his lifeblood down his stomach.

The not-so-dead Drystan stumbled to his paws, his armor, fur, and feathers still smoking, as he glared hatefully at Orion. The colt had merely scorched the bastard, and his hopes for surviving completely fell off.

“You…little.” The drake panted. “You little…shit!” He roared, stepping forward in a slow, methodical chase. “You couldn't just make this easy. Could you?!”

Orion's eyes widened and abandoned trying to hold on his blood with a hand.

Thinking quickly, his horn glowed, and a thin stream of flame cauterized the gash across his solar plexuses from his hands. Since its discovery, he had refrained from using that particular talent in front of anyone. But now was not the time to be picky on who saw what.

The action gave his assassin pause. A look of surprise and utter befuddlement overtook his features.

“What..?”

That hesitation was all he needed to jump to his hooves and book it across the open street toward another house.

“No! You will not escape me again!” Drystan shouted, charging after him. Orion could hear the powerful flaps of his wings as the bastard took to the air and chased after him.

The black pony knew he shouldn't look back, but he did. Wings beating angrily at the air, Drystan propelled himself forward, his blade jutting outstretched toward his target.

“I'm fucked! I'm fucked! I am so fucked!”

The radar, which he had turned back on again despite its limitations, blipped at him. A new signature appeared in his mind's eye.

Gilda, her armor in tatters and a bandage wrapping up her middle and chest burst from an alleyway next to him and slashed upwards, catching the scale mail of the drake and tearing it apart with her broad blade.

“ORION! RUN! NOW!” She screamed, beak in a rictus snarl as she faced off against Rosebreast's servant.

“YOU BITCH!” The drake bellowed, drawing back in time to avoid the worst of the blow and lunging forward to skewer her through the chest.

Gilda Broadwing shrieked. Orion Falls whimpered and fell into the house entrance.

And he kept falling, right into the cellar that had been burned out by the fires that had claimed the home. Twisting around, he saw Drystan leap in after him; blade raised high for the killing blow.

This was it. He was going to die.

“No…no…”

“NO!!” Hands scrambling, he picked up the first thing he fumbled upon and thrust it forward, his eyes slammed tight to the inevitable.

A vibration shuddered through his instrument of defense. Moments passed, and the promise of death did not come.

Something warm flooded over his fingers. Dribbled onto his face.

Cracking an eye open, his other soon joined him as he sat, stunned by the strange and frightening sight before him.

Drystan, his blade mere inches from the pony's face, was impaled on the pointy end of a smoldering plank of wood. The end, having gone right into the open hole in his armor and out the other.

The drake's own eyes bulged, and the griffon was rigid in shock.

“H…ow….did….that,” whatever he was going to say did not come. Orion Falls watched as the light of life left the killer's wretched gaze.

The Basilisk bellowed in anger and frustration as a makeshift iron spear found purchase in the softer parts of its underbelly. Its cries sent everyone's ears back, pinned against their skulls, yet did not halt their own assault.

The people of Aviary, Iron Dog, and Griffon did not yield. The soldiers did not falter. Everybody capable of lifting anything continued their assault on this terrifying creature.

Its mist, that poisoned miasma meant to cripple its prey, was rendered useless by a few soldiers who had the brilliant idea to rise above and flap as hard as they could to dissipate the smog before it rose over the wall robbing it of a needed offense.

The beast’s attempts to strike those who dared take to the sky were thwarted by the villagers, who hurled clumps of ore and iron weapons, the former provided by the Iron Dogs, who were working furiously to dig up more. This halted its attacks, much to the beast's fury.

When it roared, the people of Aviary roared back in defiance of its nature. Of its malice.

Grace had been forced to the rear. None of her people wanted her involved in this. This was her people's fight, and she would only get in the way.

But she could feel it. Something powerful seemed to hum in the air. With each hurl of weapon and shout of anger, it grew in pitch and thrummed within her breast.

Were the others feeling it as well?

The old yet new Burgermeister of the town hurled another spear, and the weapon's point slammed home into the Basilisk's eye.

“TAKE THAT, YOU VILE LIVER-EATER!” She cried. Her face shown with an exuberance for a Griffon half her age.

That blow seemed to make the creature's mind. With a bellowing cry of pain and anger, it hurled itself from the walls and slithered unsteadily toward the tree line, screeching as it went.

Stunned silence reigned over everyone as they watched its tail disappear into the darkness. It was almost deafening.

Commander Thorncrest was the first to break the stillness. He shouted. No, he roared in victory, in relief.

His voice was joined by every throat, her own included. Citizens capered in the magically pocked marked street. Iron Dogs howled and spun. Laughter broke from several groups, including the soldiers who clapped not only their own on the back but the young towngriffons who had stood with them.

They had done it. And that hum of what she could only think of as pride grew louder in her heart. In her soul.

Sigurd paced the halls of his castle. The keep that had kept his family safe for generations. Through failure and sorrow, it had stood firm against rebellion. Against other Great Houses that had tried in years gone by to take it from them.

He was not the only one. Servants wandered the halls with a look of bewilderment on their faces. Rather than remaining silent at their posts, the guards clutched at their chests and looked at each other in confusion. Smiles wared with the stoic visage they tried and failed to achieve.

He heard their whispers. There was no concern; whatever had woken them or stirred them from their duties had not been one of worry. But of sudden welling of what could only be pride.

Something had happened or was happening. It was like the thrum of some great creature reverberated into their bones, their souls.

Eyes lifting from the stone walkway he found himself wandering on, he discovered that he had somehow come to the Grand Cavern of Griffonia. The air felt warmer here. The hum was louder.

His beak broke open in astonishment when he gazed out across the expanse to the ancient yet unassailable ruins.

The great Citadel of Boreas pulsed softly. Gold, green, blue, and so on through all the existing colors. It repeated. And with each repeat, the hum grew louder within his ears. Within his chest.

Something had happened, and as the comforting thrum of power washed through him, he knew it was something glorious.

Val Shadow-wing stood, still weighing his options, when something swept through him that nearly knocked him to his knees.

The air, the forest itself, and even he seemed to vibrate by some unseen force of power that humbled him.

It was warm, strong, and comforting. His soul spoke of glory long since lost, of pride shattered by the cruelty of this world, both on him and his people.

Pride. Something he had lost along the way as he sold his services for the sake of others. Broken by the very hen who had been sworn to care for him and his own. That thrum of power spoke to him of hope. It sufficed into his very soul and brought tears of shame to his eyes.

His gaze looked to the east, where he could feel it coming from. “Yes…” he said into the gloom, “I've stained my soul black enough.”

His wings beat the air into submission as he shot into the sky.

It was time for lies to be cast aside.

Celestia stood on the balcony of her rooms. The late-night paperwork was left abandoned.

There was something in the air. She could feel it, only faintly but there on the edges of her senses.

Ancient power the likes she had not felt in centuries, no a millennium, seemed to be alive in the air this night.

Her magenta orbs gazed upon the city—her city. The alicorn’s sharp eyes, aided by the slim silver light of the moon, studied it, noting the griffons suddenly coming out of their homes, the alleys, and forges on the distant third plate. All their gazes were fixed northward.

Her own gaze drifted to follow. Something was happening in Griffonia. Something she had not foreseen.

Eberhard drifted from shadow to shadow. The thrum of what he could only call Pride resonated within him.

He wanted to laugh, to cry out in joy. What was this feeling? Where did it come from? It was difficult to stay on task with such promise of hope rushing through him.

Stalking from battle site to the next, old skills awoken by memory and that Hum allowed him to track the pony's hoof steps as they pushed deeper into the town's wreckage.

He had found the end of many assassins, peppering the journey of a desperate struggle for survival.

Behind Orion's marks came two other sets from the placement. One stalked. Their impressions spoke of an old enemy.

Lonelycall had seen his tracks before in alleys and abroad. Punctuated by the end of some griffon he was supposed to protect.

Drystan had come, and this attack now made more sense to him. Rosebreast had grown worried and had made a decision. The unicorn force was meant to be a scapegoat for the sacking of Aviary. One she could avoid fault for entirely.

Of course, it is a clever plan from a very clever hen.

His beak tightened.

The other set of paw prints, with blood marking them, lead from the most recent fight, where the armor of a sergeant had been laid aside. Crimson ichor stained around a hole driven from the back forward into the belly.

“Oh, Gilda, you don't know when to give up, do you?”

“Gilda?!” A voice, more distinctly a pony’s voice, echoed into the still night. “GILDA!!” That cry was desperate, and Eberhard moved with alacrity toward its source. His decision had been made, though he loathed it.

“GILDA!!” Orion cried, falling to his knees beside the prone form of the guard, his friend. The scrap of his knees over roughly uneven stone hurt, but he didn't notice as he looked over the various wounds inflicted on the hen. The latest gushed violently from her chest, where the bandages had been ripped open anew with a well-placed slash.

He had waited too long, sat frozen on that cold ground covered in the blood of his enemy. Unable to process what he had done.

The enormity of taking a life had left a toil on his mind that rendered him motionless as he tried to process all that had meant. Killing a wooden dog was one thing, but a life, one with a soul of their own? It was difficult to grasp.

Upon finally pulling his mind from thoughts better talked about with a therapist that he knew he would never see, he had climbed back out of the cellar, out of the crumbling home that the assault had broken.

His call for his friend had been tentative, unsure of what he might find. When he laid his eyes on her prone form, the wail of her name ripped from his throat.

“Oh God. Oh, Jesus. Oh fuck!” He cried, panicked as his horn burst to life and his hands followed suit.

One of his biggest secrets had already been exposed once. What was another showing?

Orion’s scans revealed an ugly scene. Gilda had suffered more than just a couple of blows. Her intestines were a mess. Several sections of the larger and smaller colons were heavily nicked or downright severed. The left lung had collapsed entirely. The blade of Drystan had driven clear through and narrowly missed her heart.

There were more than a dozen cuts along her outer flesh, somehow rapidly decaying as he watched. Poison.

Her wings, her wings were destroyed beyond repair of the best healers. Even a novice like him could see it.

“Oooh…fuck…” His horn glowed brighter, becoming a torch that cast the ground and crumbled walls around them in golden black light. The bony protrusion burned and throbbed in pain. Again, he ignored that agony as well.

“Where do I even begin?!”

He was no medic. He told her the truth when he said he could barely heal a cut. This much damage was surely beyond him.

He shook his head, trying to dispel those doubts within. If he could heal the muscle and ligament strain brought on by his boosting spells, he could heal this.

“First…the lungs. She…she needs to breathe.” Focusing, he looked within his friend once again and started patching the holes where the blade had gone through.

The blood that filled the space was the easiest part. Capesso, using a very low setting, easily removed that, though that came after he used some of the plasma as biomass to stitch up the holes there.

Gently, he forced air into her lungs, and she gasped out, pain on her face as she coughed up blood he had not seen trapped in her esophagus.

“Gilda!” He shouted, and her hand smacked him in the face.

“Don't...shout. You shit…head.” She gasped, and his lips broke into a smile.

“Hang in there…I…I can do this.” Orion said gently, his eyes drifting down to her abdomen, where already his magically enhanced vision could see toxins infecting her blood. “I…”

“No…you can…barely…heal…a buh…buh…bruise.” She groaned. Her eyes drifted up and widened. “Stop…your horn…”

“What? My horn?” Reaching up, he gingerly touched and hissed, jerking his hand away. That bony protrusion was now smoking, and he had no choice but to let the magic go.

Darkness swept over both of them.

“Gilda…I…”

“It's…okay…Colt.” She spoke, blood still slowly trickling from her beak as she looked up at him. The sad smile said she knew what was coming. Her death. She chuckled.

“What…what's so fuckin' funny, you jackass.” He winced, talking loudly, which seemed to hurt his head too much.

“You…heh…you killed him…didn't you…” She gasped, back arching, hands flailing at her stomach.

“I…I uh…yeah I…I…” He couldn't say a damn thing. He didn't want to. He had never wanted to. Killing a mindless beast had been one thing. At the end of the day the Timberwolf had been just an animal. Even that rudimentary knife back in the day had been more a means of defense than actual intent to murder someone.

Now, he had crossed that line, and his body revolted. The pain of that realization hurting something he couldn't quite understand within him.

“It's okay…you…you did…good…” Her face changed from one of agony to puzzlement. “Do you…feel…that?” Her voice sounded surprised.

Looking about, Orion saw nothing. “Feel what?” Tears were drying on his cheeks.

“No…” Her hand drifted slowly up and tapped his chest. “In there.”

Now puzzled, he closed his eyes and focused. There was something there. A strange hum filled him. In his panic and grief-stricken state, he had not noticed it before. It was surprisingly comforting.

“What is it?” He asked, looking down at her.

“I…don't know.” She gasped. “But it feels….good.” She smiled. “It's okay.”

“No, it most certainly is not. I gotta do something to-.” Again, her hand found his face, bloody fingers pressed into his lips.

“No…you don't.” Her eyes caught his own. “You…you've done more…than what any…griffon…could ask of someone.”

“It's…not enough.” New tears were making their way down old tracks, falling on her raised arm. He clutched at her limb, the dried blood staining his fingers, crumbling. “You saved me! I can't-”

“Oh, you silly fledgling.” She laughed. The idiot hen laughed, blood erupting from several points on her stomach, causing her to groan. “Huh.” She muttered. “Maybe not…anymore…you survived your….your first battle, after…all.”

“By luck.”

“Luck…of battle…is a thing…Orion.” She gasped. Her arm’s strength gave out, and he was left bearing the whole weight. “I think…yeah, I think we won. Can you hear that? That…is the shouts…of victory.”

Orion listened. Off in the distance was the roar of voices echoing out from what he believed was the wall that encompassed much of the town.

Had they really fought off the unicorns?

Gilda gasped and seized up once more. Sudden and violent strength returned, and she gripped his hand tightly.

“Orion!” She said breathlessly. “I…want…you to…send me…off.”

“What? No. I gotta get you to someone!” He rebuked.

“Shut up. Wake…up. Nothing…can help. I know, you seen it.” She was right. Even without his magic, he remembered the damage done. He just didn't want to admit it. For that would mean admitting she was going to die. “Please…send me to Boreas. My pyre…awaits.”

She smiled at him. It was beautiful and kind. And for the second time in his life, and the first for someone he cared about, he watched the light fade from her eyes.

“Gilda.” He whispered. Not wanting to accept the truth. “Gilda!?” He clutched at her, pulling her into his arms and shaking her body. “GILDA!”

Nothing. She didn't respond; deep within him, he knew she never would again.

Hugging her tightly, headless of her blood staining his clothes, his body. His soul. He moaned.

That moan turned into a groan, and then a wail as he cried his heart out into her lifeless body.

Eberhard stood over the colt. His blade was poised to strike. But his body wouldn't respond.

His heart, it seemed, would not allow it.

As he watched the pony weep and cry for another, not his own, he realized his choice, while logical, was all too wrong. This pony would die before allowing himself to be used against his will.

He would fight, beak, and claw for those around him.

Sheathing his weapon, he walked up and placed a hand on Orion’s shoulder. The pony jumped and looked, pain etched upon his tear-streaked face.

“Eber…I…I tried.” He said through clenched teeth.

“I know.” Lonelycall knelt down, and for the first time in twenty years, he embraced someone. A pony. Orion Falls. And they both wept for the loss.

Author's Note

So...uh. Yeah, I am not ashamed to say I cried at the end of this. I didn't think I had it in me. I didn't even want to do it, and I sought for a way to preserve her. But see, that's why I kinda rely on some dice. They keep me on the path that I would otherwise avoid. Pain.

I didn't really like Drystan's character I had developed almost ten chapters back. It did not match him, so I retconned him, and that will reflect in Chapter 29, Laid Plans.

I, don't have much more to say. This chapter really took a lot out of me, what with the rewrites, and the editing, and the constant experience of anguish I had to go through as I essentially killed off what I believed could have been a great character.

I'm...gonna get a drink. Think I need it. You all have a wonderful day, and I hope the week treats you all wonderfully.

I made a blog post earlier this evening, for a Q&A session if any of you want to ask some questions. Please submit any you may have there, so I can keep it organized as much as possible.

Thanks for reading, and may the dice ever roll in your favor.

Peace!