We reach the house mentioned in Sonorous Splash's letter, turning off a few more radios along the way. It looks like an unremarkable two-story weathered house with peeling plaster and broken windows.

This is the moment when I can learn something that will save me the time of searching for the keycard, for, unfortunately, the tracking chip does not point to this house. And yet, I cross the threshold of the house with excitement, picking the lock and first making sure no one is inside. Kind of.

I'm too thrilled with anticipation.

We look around the house and search its corners. The interior isn't anything special: shelves of books, paintings on the walls, vases and pots of withered plants, upholstered furniture, a TV, and that sort of thing. In the surroundings one can feel that medics lived here, as evidenced by the books and magazines found throughout the house, as well as tools and medical products that are not found in ordinary citizens.

On the second floor there are three bedrooms, one of them has a large bed, but only in the room with a small bed we find a safe behind the closet, where after breaking the very difficult and enchanted lock we find the memory orb mentioned in the letter. It becomes apparent that Sonorous did not go to meet her 'employers'. She was probably in her Ministry of Morale or elsewhere at the time of Pink Cloud's appearance.

I almost look into the memory orb. My irrepressible curiosity is overcome by Motley snatching the orb from my telekinetic grasp with a shimmering bluish glow.

"What do you think you're doing?" she exclaims with indignation and surprise. "We can't let our guard down in a place like this. Have you forgotten what happened when we just fell asleep in the ruins of this city?"

"I..." I begin bashfully, stunned. "Y-yes... You're right. I didn't think about how Pink Cloud would affect me if I started going through the memory orb."

She sighs heavily over the radio and then walks over to me, giving me the opportunity to magically pick up the orb carefully, which I do, dipping it into one of my bags.

"I understand how you want to stick your curious nose in there," she says condescendingly, poking the front of my helmet lightly in the nose area, "but let's get out of here first."

"Right..." I utter slightly detachedly, staring at the framed photograph standing on the modest wooden dresser beside the bed. "Besides, I doubt I'll learn the location of the keycard in that memory orb. It's more likely to contain something about the Dome itself."

The picture shows three ponies. A stallion with a short mane is hugging two mares on his right and left sides. One mare with her mane tied up in a bundle is to his left, to his right is a pony with glasses on her face. One of them has made a note in her letter about the other two as her loved ones.

"What do you think," I begin, looking at the picture, "who do you think they were to each other?"

Motley turns around for a moment.

"A single father and two daughters? Father, mother and daughter?" she ponders aloud, looking in my direction. "No... They're the same age. In love."

"And who's in love with whom?"

"All three are in loving relationships with each other, probably a polygamous family," the pegasus says in a light and carefree tone, as if it's an obvious thing. My thoughts seem to hang in the air.

Wait, what?

"Wait, what?"

"Are you telling me that before the war, ponies had legal marriages with more than one partner?"

"Well... yes," a pegasus' confused voice comes over the helmet's internal radio. A short sigh follows, indicating some sort of realization. "Oh... I forgot. According to the stories from your world, humans are monogamous creatures."

"Not exactly. There have been polygamous relationships in various cultures in human history, but in recent times, it is monogamous relationships that have taken hold in the leading and developing countries of the world, while polygamy has been deemed unacceptable, at least on an official level".

"Ponies were also, in the prehistoric era, polygamous and herd creatures. I don't remember much about that, I'll just say that the ratio of stallions to mares in those distant times was more unequal than it is now. In general, there was always an alpha stallion and an alpha mare. The main stallion protected and guarded the herd, while the main mare was busy searching for food. Only the main stallion had access to the fertilization of the other mares, and the other grown stallions either competed for leadership or left to find another herd."

"And then what happened? What led to the ponies becoming exactly what they are now?"

"A lot of things happened, of which I remember almost nothing, just the gist of it. Different concentrations of magic affected the evolution of living things, and ponies were no exception. The alpha mare took on more responsibilities, she decided to oversee the future success of her offspring and the offspring of the other mares in the herd, helping them create a new herd. This was not without the cooperation of other top mares from other herds. Thus after a while even the alpha stallion was out of power, as he only acted as a guard and fertilizer. Whereas the alpha mare began—if I may put it this way—to engage in foreign policy. She commanded her offspring, creating entire dynasties, and thus came the matriarchy."

"Now that's enterprise... We've had kings and powerful families in human history actually make such alliances, forcing their children to marry the children of other kings and families."

"As I see it, the principle is the same. Only we've got the top mares starting to run things. Of course, there are many nuances and regulations... Anyway, this way of life was established for a long period of time. And gradually rebellious thoughts began to grow when the mares did not want to be controlled, the stallions as well... Then the herd and polygamy in particular were associated with force and slavery, and the subject of sex partly came under attack. Personal qualities began to rise. Social rebellion reached its peak and the obligation to be a member of the herd disappeared along with the obligation to have foals. By this time the ratio of stallions to mares was not as striking as before, there were two or three mares per stallion as there are now. It hasn't been that long since the initial period, but it was long before Celestia and Luna."

"And how did the mares cope with being alone with no stallions? There are more of them from my observations."

"Due to a multitude of factors, most mares have an even stronger bisexuality because of the predominance of mares in society. They make up half of them. The remainder, however, are absolute lesbians and straights. Polygamy was not forbidden, but because of the elevation of personality, finding even one suitable partner proved difficult. It is precisely a matter of characters and personalities that just don't fit together. There are problems in polygamous relationships—given those in monogamous relationships as well—that make it difficult to find a second partner. For example, mares, because of complexes or whatever, don't want to be in a low rank, and stallions don't want to feel used and left out of family affairs, afraid of becoming unneeded as they age. It is monogamous relationships that have been successful for more than a millennium, polygamy, as you can see from the previous point, is unstable."

"Polygamous ones fall apart faster..." I conclude.

"Exactly."

"What about you?"

"Well... I've always wanted to have more than one pony in the family, whether it's a stallion or a mare, as long as we love each other. My Light, for example, didn't really want anyone else."

"Neither did I," I respond. "I had no desire to look for someone else if the current relationship was perfectly fine. That's with Brisa, I had absolutely no internal motivation to look for a third."

"And you don't have to look for..." Motley says casually.

"What do you mean?"

"If you deliberately look for another partner, you'll never get anywhere. I've already tried... With my marefriend. We've had some serious fights. It turns out that for one reason or another, either I didn't like something about the other pony, or she didn't like something about the other pony, or the other pony didn't like something about me. You know, it's like dancing. It's easier to dance with one partner than with several, achieving multilateral synchronization, working as a team... and... whatever."

"I'm sorry, I'm just not used to all this. Right now it's hard for me to think about anyone else when you satisfy me in every way I need."

"Oh... that's flattering," she goes silent for a few seconds. "It's just..." she falls silent again.

"And why are you so drawn to finding another partner?"

"I don't deny that it's very difficult to achieve mutual understanding, sincerity and honesty with each other, there are more conflicts, but at the same time there are positives too."

"Such as?"

"In fights, sometimes a third party who can resolve the conflict will be helpful."

"What about friends or relatives? Can't they handle it?"

"They won't be able to see the whole picture of what's going on. With sincerity between the partners and equal rights, the conflict will be resolved safely. Plus, sometimes someone can get boring and you want to chat..."

"Get boring?"

"The abundance of sweets also makes you nauseous sometimes, you know. You have noticed that there are three bedrooms in this house, haven't you? As you can see, someone's going to want to be alone or have a quiet night's sleep. The more, the harder, but also the more fun. I can tell you more about it later if it interests you," she offers with hope in her voice.

"Like I said, I'm not used to to love two at once."

"Parents have several children—yet manage to love and pay attention to all of them."

"That's a bit different."

"Sure, but it's the closest analogy. Just... think about it, please. I'm not asking you to make a decision right away and look for someone else. But if someone catches your eye and mine, why not involve her or him in our family? It's not as loose a relationship as you might think, I'm not willing to trust you with just anyone. And if you feel like you're the only one pulling the strings for everyone, I'll tell you that's not true. The responsibilities are shared equally, but there are nuances. Anyway, it's too complicated a topic to speculate on here. Like I said, think about it, get used to the idea of that kind of relationship..."

"But you had a fight with your marefriend. I don't want to fight with you."

"No one does. Yeah and we were about twenty years old at the time. Fire and hot."

"You're still hot right now," I point out playfully.

Motley blushes and laughs.

"Well... not so much in that sense. Hot in the head. We've... dreamed too much and made plans for a family, and reality, as you know, has little to do with dreams. It's been quite a few years since then, and I've come to understand more about how the world works—though it seems like I never fully will."

A silence hangs in the air. I ponder and piece together what the pegasus has said. It will be a new experience either way. Plus I'm curious myself as to how it will work. Yes, it comes with risks and difficulties—but I've been taking risks all my life. So why not? At the very least, it's an interesting experience, even though I don't really need it.

"Okay," I reply after a short pause, staring at the picture again. They look quite happy. "I'll think about it, angel."

A joyful squeak is heard from her side, and she wraps me in a hug. Yeah, this is an important issue for her. And what kind of plans has she set up for herself that makes a polygamous relationship look more favorable to her than a monogamous one? There'll be time to find out. All that's left is to find the keycard and get out of this gloomy town.

"You're seriously going to think about this? Well you... You're just... I have no words, your level of pony nature corruption just increased."

Shut up.

***

We leave Sonorous's house, and a steady red marker immediately appears on my Pip-Boy's compass.

From the moment I found myself amidst the ruins of Canterlot, surrounded by the remnants of Pink Cloud, the red and neutral markers have been constantly appearing and disappearing, and only Motley has been continuously displayed to me. This can only mean one thing: the marker is definitely not pointing at a ghoul. I'm letting Motley know.

We move toward the marker, which is displayed somewhere in the depths of a four-story building with a kind of barbershop on the first floor. We are on the opposite side of the street: having entered an empty house, we observe a potential enemy from there.

It's a large dark blue pony with a horn and... wings. An alicorn.

Here we finally meet. Motley mentioned that the Goddess's subjects, her alicorns, are resisting her quite successfully in this place: constant failures indicate that they are unable to band together in pursuit of what their great, powerful, and self-assertive mistress craves. They rebel in a way that any opposition would envy. But what am I to do about this, uh... individual?

The alicorn is still being displayed as hostile. I tend to trust the processing abilities of Pip-Boys and PipBucks, for they have been known to calculate the anticipated reaction to my appearance in a scanned creature's field of view by analyzing the target's electrochemical brain activity for hostility. However, because this is done at a distance, accuracy is far from perfect. About sixty-two percent of the time, Pip-Boy correctly predicted enemy hostility. With robots, the case is simpler.

There's no way to get past it, because the tracking chip points to the barbershop building, where she's looking for something, peering behind the furniture. I freeze in indecision, staring at another inscription on the white plaster building next door. This one is different from all the others, each letter a different color, and it reads, "RAINBOW IS AN UPSIDE-DOWN HORSESHOE."

I wonder what made one think of a rainbow in a place like that?

I almost get distracted by unnecessary musings. Motley quickly dispels my doubts about rebellious alicorns by informing me that in all recorded cases, the alicorns in Canterlot act aggressively towards non-alicorns. They seek to either kill or capture and use as bait to distract the ghouls.

I wonder about their resistance to Pink Cloud. I take to thinking over a plan.

"One way or another, we're going to draw attention. Motley," I say into the radio, thinking passionately, "get lost."

"What?.."

"Ugh, I mean, hide and lie low," I quickly clarify. "We have surprise on our side. I'll distract the alicorn on me, and you pick a good moment and position to attack her from the rear. I'll try to lure her outside."

"Sounds simple. Good. However, even though we attack first, don't be so cocky, it breeds carelessness. I'll get on the roof, so that I can then strike it with Pushy from above."

I get close to the barbershop building on the left side, closer to that sign, and the pegasus stealthily flies up into the air and lurks on the roof. From inside is heard the inaudible but clearly indignant mutterings of the alicorn, frantic rustling and the occasional random pounding of hooves on tile. She's looking for something, and she wants to find it fast.

"What are you waiting for?" Motley asks over the radio.

"A miracle," I reply briefly, once again wondering if I've overlooked something important. Taking a deep breath and mentally preparing myself, I turn on my helmet's external speaker and yell, "Cock-a-doodle-doo!"

In an instant, I hear the flapping of wings... but I can't see anything.

What? What the... Oh. Fuck! I forgot that blues become invisible!

Before I realize it, I'm standing against the wall of the building, erecting a magical shield around me, which is immediately evaporated by the lightning strike, causing a brief pain in my horn and disorienting me.

Motley jumps up, flapping her wings, covered in the Enclave power armor, in an energy-magic knuckle attack pose. The blow strikes the invisible alicorn, and a bluish halo appears around the point of impact in the form of a flash. Immediately after the blow, the pegasus groups herself and uses her wings to slow down for a long jump to land comfortably and easily on all four legs. It's beautiful and graceful. Motley is a joy to watch.

After the blow, the invisibility spell dissipates and the winged blue unicorn's body falls sideways. Half of her head is disemboweled in the area of the blow, blood dripping onto the stone-paved road with a squishing sound, half of her skull shattered, the inside of her head nothing but a bloody mess of brains and bones.

"You're as usual..." the pegasus utters, approaching the corpse but communicating with me over the radio. "Remind me, how many times have I gotten you out of a mess like this?"

"I was just..." I pause for a few seconds, searching for an excuse, "pretending to be helpless so that you'd look like an even more majestic angel than you could possibly imagine."

"So I believed you," she says mockingly. Crowds of ghouls pour out of every crevice as if from a cornucopia. Without wasting time, the pegasus flies toward me, swiftly grabs me with her front legs, and lifts me into the air, dropping me onto the roof slope of the four-story barbershop building.

"Where to now, rooster?" she inquires, lying on her stomach and breathing heavily.

"We still need to look in the building below us, there's either the key card or a radio on."

"It's a bit difficult to do that right now because of the line below..."

From below we can hear the hostile snarls of the dead guys crowded around us, wanting to taste our flesh.

"We'll have to sneak in without being seen by the line, or they'll bite us," I say after a short pause. A shiver rolls through my body at the memory of today's nightmare.

"Like any place, if you try to get in without a line..." the pony says dejectedly, glancing warily over the ledge of the roof. "I'll have to distract them. I'll be the bait this time."

"What?" I worry.

"I'll be fine," she claps me on the shoulder with her front leg. "I have the advantage," she moves her wings demonstratively to confirm her words.

"Just make sure you don't get hit with a spell or grabbed by telekinesis if you find a ghoul capable of such a thing."

"Don't forget, the Enclave's power armor has a special magical matrix that prevents a unicorn from using a telekinesis spell on me. It also partially neutralizes magic damage. Everything will be just magical..." The growls from below do not stop. "How impatient," she mutters, sighing heavily. "Okay, I'm off to tease them with my butt."

"Do it in a way that makes me admire you."

She pokes me in the shoulder in response, causing me to give a suppressed chuckle.

"I'm only doing this for you..." she utters as she flies up into the air and hovers above a street swarming with Canterlot ghouls. "Hey, buttheads! Looking for me?" she shouts loudly with the external speaker on, and then slowly, gently swaying, she flies further down the street. From below comes the haphazard stomping of hooves on the stone-paved road. After waiting another minute or so, I look down. No one.

Great. I can go downstairs.

There's a balcony on the fourth floor. I hang on the edge of the roof, supporting myself with a telekinetic field so I don't slip and fall down, and carefully jump onto that balcony. Drawing my sword at the ready, I step inside. There are small concentrations of Pink Cloud swirling around, and the furniture and other furnishings look more or less decent. Without wasting much time looking around, I approach the front door, but no sooner do I get close to it than my ears pick up a Canterlot frequency. Not a keycard...

I hang the sword back on the strap.

What to do? The mark points to the right. I try telekinesis to open the door, but it's locked. I have to pick the lock from a distance, which is unusual and difficult in itself. Once I manage to 'defeat' it, I open the door: a hallway appears before me.

"Motley, are you okay in there?" I call out over the radio.

"Uh-huh... I amuse the ghouls by wiggling my hips in front of them. How's your situation?" she asks distractedly.

"I can tell you it's definitely not the key card."

"Too bad... So, should I pick you up?"

"Sure, I'll just try to disable the receiver now."

I look around for something that would help me locate the radio receiver. Disabling it from a distance isn't such a problem, but I need to see what I'm doing, or at least have an idea of where it is.

My gaze clings to the dusty wooden-framed mirror hanging in the hallway. I shroud it in the bluish glow of telekinesis, carefully remove it from the wall, wipe it clean with a piece of cloth on the dresser, and levitate it into the hallway. I tilt it to the sides at various angles until the reflection shows a radio receiver, shrouded in a dense cluster of pink gas and located at the end of the corridor near an open window on a small wooden table with a silhouette of a pony sitting with its back to me on a wooden chair. The pony is obviously dead, its body a single piece with the chair. Outside the window, the outline of a grand and magnificent white castle with dark purple domes is barely distinguishable. It was a beautiful sight once, I think.

Flicking the switch, I walk back out onto the balcony, hanging the mirror back up before I do so. I wait for the pegasus to pick me up, and we head out to check the rest of the marks pointed out by the tracking chip.

The last fight had unfortunate consequences for me. In another imminent clash with the ghouls, one creature managed to bite my nose, or rather, the nose part of my helmet, which left it open to small concentrations of Pink Cloud. Since the helmet's construction is rather intricate and complex, I can't do without specific spare parts here. I need to find any helmet with a respirator system, for it has fallen into disrepair due to a powerful bite from the walking corpse, and there are no spare parts on Venture anyway due to my oversight. I didn't realize the respirator part of the helmet would be affected. We had to go down into the underground sewers and sewage systems because of this incident, as the concentration of Pink Cloud is pretty much reduced to zero here: all the gas has either condensed or mixed with the water.

"ACHOO!" I sneeze suddenly and loudly, bringing myself out of my thought, walking quietly behind Motley.

The pegasus jumps up in surprise, cursing, and a chorus of angry growls can be heard from a nearby collector corridor. Darkness reigns all around, dispelled only by the light of my Pip-Boy and the beam of Motley's helmet flashlight.

"Sneezing leads to trouble..." I say guiltily with growing worry.

The pegasus in front of me is silent, clearly trying to contain her emotions.

"So you sneered at our covert mission?" she finally smirks in a nervous tone.

I can feel it in her shaky voice as she jokingly tries to contain her anger and with it her growing anxiety. We both remember what we saw in the dream—when a crowd of dead ponies came at us in a similar situation. This time, however, we did something we hadn't thought of in the nightmare: we promptly managed to take several types of battle drugs. Thanks to the power armor with automation of this process, Motley only needs to do a few manipulations, while I need to consume them myself.

A whole pack of the living dead rolls in from the next room, becoming one with their service gear in the form of gold-colored jumpsuits. The moment they appear, I feel the effects of the drugs: I feel a rush of energy, my perception of the world around me is sharpened, my muscles are buzzing with tension and eagerness to kick some ass, and my reactions are noticeably faster: now I can see almost every movement of the ghouls.

"Let the orgy begin!" I scream out emotionally and under the influence of the drugs as we are attacked by the crowd of dozens of colorful ponies.

Everything happens so fast that I don't have time to realize; it's as if my body is moving on its own. Precise sword swings, fountains of blood, torn pieces of skin and flesh, Pushy blows and flashes with a bluish halo of light, a wriggling scorpion tail with an incredibly sharp sting, cutting through the air and penetrating bodies. This is not combat... it's a vast chaos and bacchanalia of nasty smacking and slapping sounds, vicious and predatory growls, heavy harsh sighs, whistling stings, swords, and muffled punches.

At some point I realize that they're going to overpower us anyway. I fire my Illumination, using the standard firing mode, aiming straight for their mouths. One gets so close that it nearly bites off the front of the barrel. To all this unrestrained chaos is joined by the humming and bright loud shots of energy-magic weapons, both mine and the pegasus. She decides not to delay either, firing the orange Typhoon plasma rifle at the combat saddle. Areas of the ghouls' bodies are melted and charred by the shots, and sometimes they turn into blue-white ash or a viscous, disgusting puddle in a small flash of light.

Everything is stained with blood, the remains of decapitated and mutilated bodies. The smell of burning, nauseating and pungent, making the aftermath of the battle even more repulsive and revolting.

We overcome this dozen, but the energy-magic weapons we fire attract the ghouls from the more distant underground corridors. With our weapons ready and in a defensive posture, we open fire with our energy-magic rifles: sometimes we have to fire several shots to kill these creatures, but sometimes a single shot to the head is enough.

Flying orange plasma blasts and blue lightning bolts light up the corridor, and the bodies of the ghouls either lose their heads or turn to ash or puddles, glowing with joy and delight. Whenever possible, I activate the special firing mode of Illumination—the group one, for the ghouls are quite often close to each other. The shots are so intense that we barely have time to reload the spark batteries.

Suddenly, everything goes quiet. We kill another two dozen ghouls—hopefully the noise of the gunfire didn't disturb the ones above us too much. Motley's plasma weapon hums steadily, while my thunderbolt rifle, with its homemade and bushcraft modifications of the Steel Rangers' head scribe, is slightly smoking and glowing orange-red. After such intense firing, it's in for a long overhaul. But its condition is still far from critical.

"Even in the sewers of Red Spark," Motley responds with a choking voice, "the exposing due to your careless step on someone's bone wasn't that critical."

"That was an accident. And it wasn't up to me now. It was my body."

"So it's not comfortable with secrecy."

"Yeah," I agree. "It's like it's a masochist—it likes to get his ass kicked in adventures."

"Ooh, I'm going to spank you for that sneeze!" the pegasus murmurs in a fake-threatening tone, turning to me, and then... falls into my embrace. "Anyway, I'm glad it all turned out okay," she adds relieved.

"Me too. Our armor didn't survive it, though," I remark, and my gaze slides over the dents and bite marks from the ghouls.

Her armor is tougher than mine—so I can see not only the bite marks, but parts of the armor are torn off, and some of the bites have touched my fur as well, tasting a bit of my flesh, thankfully the wounds aren't too deep. They also awarded my bags with their bites, ruining some of my gear.

Voracious bitches.

"Never mind... The important thing is that we survived," she says tiredly. "Oh... Wonder... what happens when the effects of the drugs wear off. The important thing is not to pass out."

"We didn't take that big a dose. But you're right, we need to find a rest stop and relax."

The battle drugs were still in effect when, in the rooms nearby, we found a makeshift laboratory, housed in two rooms, near which we found a wall that had collapsed from an explosion. The explosion had occurred long ago due to malfunctioning generators located in the neighborhood of the collectors in the technical rooms of some medical institution.

On the tables, corroded to varying degrees, are flasks with reagents, beakers, test tubes, instruments and equipment of varying levels of sophistication and purpose like high-tech microscopes, terminals and consoles, as well as other research supplies and tools.

Some of the glass vials and test tubes contain condensed Pink Cloud, both purified and mixed with other chemical elements and substances like water. On other tables are the remains of decapitated Canterlot ghouls or parts of their bodies, the severed head of one of the ghouls is attached by electrodes and wires to some device the size of a closet. They are, of course, permanently dead without any hint of movement.

There are two beds in the corner. All devices and light sources are turned off, but are connected to two generators, one powered by organic fuel while the other is powered by gems.

There is still some liquid left in the generator running on organics. After inspecting it and making sure it's fine, I start it up, but not on the first try. After turning it on, it hums and shakes slightly, and then I flick the switch to which the wires from this generator go. I immediately realize that the lights in this room and the next room are connected to it. The bulbs flicker and illuminate the space with a white-yellow light. By method of elimination, it becomes obvious that the gem-powered generator has been powering all the equipment around it—but I have no desire to bring it back to life.

The next rooms are full of chains, straps, and other mechanisms for restraining the ferocious prisoners. The walls are rife with scratches, dents, and bites. The room is divided in two by a small force field, currently turned off. One side once held prisoners, and the other a few tables with records, instruments, and with vials of condensed Pink Cloud.

"On this side," I say aloud, feeling the withdrawal of the effects of the drugs, which forces me to crouch down beside the table, "apparently, observations were conducted on the Canterlot ghouls." I take a quick glance to examine the contents of the notes. "These records confirm my thoughts," I conclude.

"Who would think of experimenting on Canterlot ghouls?" Motley glances at the chains. "Oh..." she says tiredly. "It's hard to stand on my hooves..." she sits down exhaustedly.

"Let's go to the other room. We'll rest there and get something to eat. After such a grueling fight, I'm really hungry."

"Me, too..." the pegasus says sluggishly and walks off into the next room, wobbling.

I follow her with the same unsteady walk.

In the next room—surrounded by a multitude of instruments, tables, chemical supplies, and the cut-up bodies of ghouls—we fill up on our supplies and settle down to rest. At the moment, I'm also suffering from magical exhaustion, so I have to take my magic recovery potion, which, incidentally, partially helps with regaining my stamina. So I'm feeling better than the pegasus at the moment. She, on the other hand, has taken off her power armor, stretched out, and is lying on the bed.

"Let my body breathe a little," she says, looking up at the ceiling with tired eyes. I walk over to her. "Pink Cloud doesn't feel right here at all. It makes me want to take a nap."

"You want to relive the nightmare?" I ask with a sneer. Her eyes go wide. "I understand that temporary fatigue sets in after battle drugs, but bear with me... if it doesn't work, I'll keep waking you up."

"I was going to ask you about that anyway... What about you? Don't you want to sleep?"

"Not really," I shrug. "The magic recovery potion partially boosts my physique, so I don't feel like sleeping at all... I'd rather look at the notes on the terminal."

"Lucky you..." she mutters.

I lean over and kiss her.

"Considering I have a fully naked angel with graceful forms in front of me... Yeah, I agree, I'm lucky."

The pegasus giggles.

"Why don't you read those notes to me?" she asks.

"Aren't you tired of hearing my voice?"

"Nope," she blurs into a goofy grin. I just shake my head, feeling myself smile.

I walk over to the terminal and turn it on. The entries are divided into three categories. The first category is called 'Observations and Research Results', the second is 'Research Summary Report in Audio Format', and the third is 'Research Summary Report in Text Format'.

"I won't have to read it out, either... There are audio recordings here," my voice echoes through the room, slightly overlapping the hum of the generator.

I open the first category, my jaw nearly dropping from what I see.

"I'm not going to go over the methods and progress of the research, the number of tools and resources involved... it would take days to read it all out non-stop..." I say monotonously, taking a quick look at the first category. "Especially since everything here is rife with scientific terms and concepts in biology and genetics, tons of numbers, tables and calculations."

"Let's turn on those reports."

I play the first recording and the room fills with a voice, fast and clear in pronunciation. The voice is incredibly familiar.

"Intro."

"For those who can't read. This is my seventh research and study site. The current target is Canterlot and Pink Cloud. This audio diary is intended to summarize all the information and research and analysis I have received at this place. For more information on the experiments conducted here, please see: Observations and Research Results."

"Oh, that's..." the pegasus gasps before she can finish. She huffs and turns her head toward the terminal, which I stare at in a daze from beside it.

"Our acquaintance... Professor," I conclude, turning back to the pegasus, then turning my gaze back to the slightly flickering green screen. "And why was he silent on the fact that he visited this place and that he apparently had information about the Canterlot ghouls and Pink Cloud!" I genuinely wonder with growing indignation.

My mind is now a chaos of outrage and embittered thoughts.

How could he do this to me? After all, he knew we were going to such a dangerous place, a place he had not only visited, but also conducted experiments to explore the surroundings! I wouldn't be surprised if there's information about the ghouls that we recently obtained visually at the risk of our lives. It's... just... fucking unfair. I want to punch that Professor in the face.

"Maybe he just forgot. You know how busy he is and how absorbed he is in his work."

"I guess..." I say condescendingly.

My anger slowly cools down: I remember that because of his work, he's not used to being interested in what's going on around him. Besides, he brewed magic recovery potions when I asked him for help on the trip. Though perhaps he didn't think we'd be exploring the grim and dangerous ruins, considering we had a tracking chip that would have led us straight to our destination. Still, it was frustrating to realize that we could have known useful information before we even visited Canterlot. Swallowing my frustration, I play the next entry while lazily browsing through the methods of experimentation in the relevant sections.

"Preparation."

"I had to employ the services of an experienced mercenary griffon this time, as it is extremely dangerous to engage in scientific activities alone in the ruins of Canterlot. This mercenary is completely ignorant of any scientific field of endeavor, which is quite typical of the average resident of the Wasteland, but he has enough experience and skills in combat and survival. In such a dangerous place, his muscles and wings will be useful. Besides, he didn't mind exploring the ruins of Canterlot, but he didn't want to go alone or with someone who didn't know anything about the place, not to mention the fact that it was hard to trust anyone in the Wasteland.

Seeing me as a 'driven egghead', he agreed to keep me safe in the ruins of Canterlot for the duration of my research, hoping that with my help he would get the information he needed and be better able to navigate and survive in the midst of Pink Cloud and the Canterlot ghouls than anyone else. His motivation is clear—he wants to gain knowledge and experience that will help him take on hired jobs in the local ruins, as there are few others willing to travel to these mythical but treasure-filled places, despite the tempting pay. Obviously, one's own skin is worth more. We will negotiate payment upon completion of my research work.

Watching me, he decided to follow my example and started to keep something like a diary, where he wrote down the main things he had found out in the course of various researches, and also poured out his opinion about it. Having a griffon has helped me avoid traveling through dangerous ruins, and it has also flown out of Canterlot and beyond to get us food and clean water from nearby springs while I've been researching."

He was lucky: he had found a companion and could thereby safely avoid the oppressive influence of Canterlot's atmosphere, followed by the inevitable loss of sanity. Isolation from society in itself has a negative effect on the mental state of any social individual. Professor, however, was hardly threatened by it; I would say he was more comfortable with it, given the eagerness with which he immersed himself in his work.

A cursory examination of the records from the section 'Observations and Results of Research', namely, how the research was conducted, what formulas, methods, calculations and other mathematical analysis were used, shows once again that Professor is very demanding and careful about his work. Such diligence, attention to detail and routine double-checking of the results would be envied by anyone, and I am not talking about the complexity of the analysis of the results, which are full of terms and definitions from genetics, biology, chemistry and medicine that are largely incomprehensible to me. He is clearly burning desire to create a universal tool that will help to get rid of unwanted mutations. A universal template that can be tweaked to fit any mutation.

"The Equipment."

"My first research was directly related to Pink Cloud itself, it was afterward that I began studying its spawns. It was necessary to assess the extent of its impact on the environment. For this purpose, we were looking for a suitable place to conduct experiments. Among the criteria was always the presence of some medical center or institute with medical orientation, and even better with biological or genetic one. There I could find not only the equipment and supplies I needed, but also the relevant literature and data on recent experiments and observations. By recent, in this case, I mean those conducted just before the fall of the megaspells. We found such a place, it belonged to the Ministry of Peace, as expected. Fluttershy Neurosurgery Research Institute.

We got most of the equipment from there. In the technical rooms, after the explosion, there was a hole in the wall that gave access to the collector systems, and we set up the lab in one of the rooms. Of course, some of the equipment and devices were in a deplorable state, but, having a decent experience with such equipment, I managed to bring it back to life and immediately began to analyze the substance of Pink Cloud.

In the course of the experiments, the equipment was gradually replenished with more and more complex and sophisticated samples, so that the experiments and research became more accurate, allowing me to test the results on different equipment and devices, to reduce the error and exclude the influence of external factors. The purity of the result is above all, the truth depends on it. My digital library has also been updated with new literature, which will give me the opportunity to share it with other scientists who have already met on my path. This Canterlot is simply a treasure trove of knowledge. Had I visited it initially, I probably could have avoided the mistakes of researching at other sites.

Soon I was lucky enough to stumble upon an entire settlement of intelligent Canterlot ghouls in Stable 1 under the Ministry of Wartime Technology, something I could not have expected. Rumors of secret lords in Canterlot turned out to be not so unfounded, but still remain exaggerated, as will be revealed later. They are also victims of Pink Cloud. I found out from them where I could try to find more advanced research technology, specific scientific literature, and some useful information about Pink Cloud itself that was available to them through observation. In some cases, I was able to trade food and technology that I could not find myself for other items I or the mercenary had found, as well as for information that I had extracted on Pink Cloud at the time. The cooperation was mutually beneficial.

A list of all the equipment I received is in the 'Observations and Research Results' section under the sub-section: Equipment."

Another storm of puzzlement and shock arises in my mind. Intelligent Canterlot ghouls? And why haven't I met them yet? Do they only inhabit Stable 1?

Motley is as surprised as I am. Before I can get my head around it, my backup PipBuck marks the place on the map. I'm distracted by it. Stable 1 is near the main castle—that's where, by my humble mental calculations, Pink Cloud spread from. Yeah... it'd be funny if they had the keycard. The entrance to the Stable is under the Ministry of Wartime Technology. Interesting decision—though why am I surprised? One of the three founders of Stable-Tech was a sister to the head mare of that ministry.

I continue my listening along with a quick look at the research results, turning on the following recording to play.

"Composition of Pink Cloud".

"Research into the composition of Pink Cloud has not provided me with any significant data. I was only able to confirm my hypotheses about the Pink Cloud that I had made before coming here from the words of travelers and the Wasteland Survival Guide book.

The composition of Pink Cloud does not have any unusual or unknown to me components and chemical elements, but I still did not know the technology and method of production of such a gaseous mixture, that is, all the conditions and circumstances necessary for its creation. I managed to find out that chemical elements used in the composition cannot serve as a catalyst of 'mixing' in the moment of contact of living flesh and ordinary matter. Moreover, this combination of components is completely harmless. I was able to determine this by reproducing the chemical mixture in the laboratory. It is so simple in structure, composition of elements and ease of production that it can be conjured by a unicorn with appropriate skills and knowledge in the field of chemistry.

Science is able to study the composition of anything, but in very rare cases it is possible to find out the determining circumstances and conditions of its creation, and due to what laws of nature it has these or those properties. After quite a long research I have no doubt that it is the magic or energy that is imposed on this gaseous mixture. Simply put, it is an enchanted gas, and its purpose is to spread the cast magic in an airborne manner. The casting of magic on the gaseous mixture may be due to the need to control Pink Cloud in the future. What I'm wondering is, in what form or by what would that control be realized?

Unfortunately, I can't determine the nature of its magic. I am a biologist and geneticist, and I do not study magic and energies with their potential properties and capabilities in depth, only superficially. I have tried to find out about the origin of the Pink Cloud's magic or energy from the devices that register them, but have failed every time. The magical nature of this cloud is impossible to determine with the equipment I have.

On the other hand, this leads me to conclude that the magic or energy of the enchanted gas is clearly of non-Equestrian origin, since the sensitive sensors and detectors created with pony magic cannot capture and identify it. Knowing the history, one could say that Pink Cloud is certainly the brainchild of zebras, and its magic also belongs to zebras. However, I am incompetent in this area.

More detailed information about the results of the analysis and experiments, as well as a list of the equipment and methods of research involved, can be found in the section 'Observations and Research Results' in the subsection 'Composition of Pink Cloud'."

It turns out that the Pink Cloud carries harmless chemical elements, but at the same time they are a kind of means of transportation for mystical and unexplained magic or energy. I wonder... in what way have they been able to utilize magic that even ponies haven't been able to discover yet, much less manage to manipulate? And yet... it wasn't surprising, given that, thanks to Celestia and her attention to social issues, scientific research was hardly sponsored, left to private amateurs. It was of little interest to anyone, no noticeable demand, so many papers and their results got lost in time or dusted on the shelves of private libraries until rumors of war came to light, leading to a stunning scientific breakthrough and increased interest in that knowledge. Professor is as amateur and self-taught now as the scientists and wizards of the pre-war era.

"Pink Cloud Impact. Environment."

"Through long research, I was able to figure out the effects of Pink Cloud's impact on the environment, as I had a lot of questions when I was setting up the lab for the workflow.

I found that a lot of things in Canterlot had better preservation compared to other corners of the Equestrian Wasteland. I was curious about the source of such a phenomenon, and I suspected it to be Pink Cloud. My hunch was confirmed. I was able to record that Pink Cloud affects the behavior and life of microorganisms. The cloud is destructive to them, which noticeably reduces their numbers, and consequently their impact on everything around them is reduced. This explains why, for example, pony remains take longer to decompose and why some things are better preserved under certain conditions.

Pink Cloud slowly 'kills' the lifeforms of almost any organic matter like trees and vegetation. Gas and magic-soaked non-living matter will begin to merge with living matter when it touches it, but outside of Canterlot, without the cloud concentrating around them, the clusters present will no longer be enough to cause this effect. The exceptions are liquids and things with high moisture levels like food. It's much more complicated with those. But I can say with certainty: don't consume them unless you're a Canterlot ghoul.

Even from casual observation, you can see that Pink Cloud penetrates almost any surface. It all depends on the thickness and density of the material. In addition, the presence of magical spells on the material also affects the penetration.

It has been observed that a high concentration of Pink Cloud is observed near the main castle, and the farther away from it, the less of this enchanted gas is contained in the environment. Leads one to speculate that it is constantly arising from somewhere. There must be a 'sprayer' somewhere inside the castle, but due to the high concentration it was impossible to find out. Sane Canterlot ghouls will not be able to infiltrate its depths due to the abundance of security systems.

To neutralize the effects of Pink Cloud, ordinary healing potions will be enough, but a huge amount of them will be needed, as its magic or energy is extremely strong. Recall that it can 'resurrect' the dead!

More significant effects of Pink Cloud, requiring separate attention, have not been recorded. More detailed information about the obtained results of analyses and experiments, as well as the list of the involved equipment and methods of research you can find in the section 'Observations and Research Results' in the sub-section: Pink Cloud Impact. Environment."

The implication is that we don't have to worry about Canterlot loot, such as books and outfits, sticking to us if we wear them or keep them in our hooves for long periods of time already outside of the pink gas. Motley also picks up on this, pleased by this news.

My observations about the concentration increasing as we approach the main castle are confirmed, but at the same time I hadn't thought about the fact that Pink Cloud is still emerging and atomizing somewhere in its depths. Is the concentration there so high that only the presence of a conditional atomizer can explain such a thing?

"Pink Cloud Impact. The nature of the Canterlot ghouls."

This entry is the longest of all, judging by the text version.

"The effects of enchanted gas on organisms is a subject of keen interest to me, making me curious, as it is genetic biology that I am most predisposed to and have an in-depth understanding of. I do not intend to apply the term 'dead' to Canterlot ghouls when it is still able to tear its victim to pieces. This is to avoid misunderstandings later on.

We have been able to capture and examine both living ghouls and dead ones, and test them under a wide variety of conditions that we have been able to conduct. Earlier, sentient Canterlot ghouls were also mentioned, but they were unwilling to lie down on the operating table, only allowing some samples like skin and fur to be taken. They were also not particularly willing to participate in some experiments on their behavior, so most of my notes on them will be based mostly on my observations. The behavior of all the ghouls will be noted in the appropriate entry.

Getting to the point. Both the dead and living bodies of the test subjects are technically considered incapacitated due to the lack of natural physical processes. We have been able to test the effects of Pink Cloud with several races, but in all cases the changes come to the same result. For example, the absence of a heartbeat. Most of the cells in the body have stopped their decomposition process in addition to their vital activity, but they are not 'active'. It is as if they are frozen, but not literally. One should look closely to see that only most of the cells have been affected. The rest are also not functioning, but they are not considered 'dead' either.

The majority of cells mentioned are those in the outer layers of the body: skin, fur. For obvious reasons, the respiratory and circulatory systems are heavily infected. The blood subsequently takes on a dark pink color, because it is saturated with the Pink Cloud magic, which came mainly through the lungs with a gaseous mixture. When the magic of Pink Cloud begins to work, subduing the body, the infection stops and the body becomes immune to it—moreover, in high concentrations it causes almost instant regeneration. By this point, the surviving cells simply stop functioning. That's why PipBuck's sensors can't register that the body is alive, so they recognize it as dead. They are also not visible on thermal imaging cameras due to the lack of body temperature, which appears during the natural vital activity of the organism, which is not observed in Canterlot ghouls, so the temperature of the latter corresponds to the ambient temperature. The exception is the sentient Canterlot ghouls I discovered in Stable 1.

Regarding the exceptions. They are on both sides of the divide. There are conditional misses when the magic of Pink Cloud fails to subdue the body with such intoxication. There are notable cases where the body merges intensely with some large and massive object like a stone sidewalk. When the Pink Cloud intoxication process occurs, the cells in living organisms that first get in the path of the enchanted gas die, causing all Canterlot ghouls to have disfigured skin and fur. At this point, the unnatural forced necrosis of the cells caused by Pink Cloud's magic affects the inorganic structures around them. Something like the effect of 'shaking' these structures at the molecular level occurs, and they become unstable, and molecules penetrate these cells unhindered. Because of the colossal 'shuffling' of the cells of the organism and inanimate matter during this 'shaking', magic is no longer able to control it: the internal organ systems of the organism are destroyed to a staggering level of ugliness, especially the nervous system. And this happens quite often in conditions of enormous concentrations of Pink Cloud. It's for the best that such victims don't stay alive. The sight of a living, snarling, twitching ghoul whose body is one with a sidewalk would deeply impress even a pony like me, who has seen a lot of things in the Equestrian Wasteland. Whether this is an intentional function of the cloud or a simple side effect remains to be seen.

The flip side of our conditioned intoxication misfire is the victims retain their minds. Because of the unique physiology of each organism, as inimitable as the pattern of a snowflake, the process of infection and subjugation is not complete. The Pink Cloud magic cannot permanently mortify the personality and uproot the psychic energy. Thanks to advanced equipment and devices from the Fluttershy Neurosurgery Research Institute, I was able to analyze the brain activity of the Canterlot ghouls and their nervous system in particular. Among the sentient ones, only one individual came here and allowed me to connect electrodes to it, so I have no certainty about all the relatives in this matter. What I can say is that the brain activity of at least one sentient Canterlot ghoul is not fundamentally different from that of uninfected members of its species, in this case—ponies. In general, their bodies are stuck like a narrow windowpane, neither here nor there, between two states: they are living ponies, but at the same time they have all the advantages of ordinary Canterlot ghouls. Among those advantages are regeneration and immunity to the cloud. I don't know if it's possible to artificially induce a transformation into a sentient Canterlot ghoul. I have absolutely no hypothesis as to why this happens. Most likely a whole set of factors that we are currently unable to record, much less manipulate.

The brain activity of ordinary Canterlot ghouls cannot be analyzed with the available equipment. It is impossible to determine what is going on in their heads.

Some individuals of different races, when fully infected, gain the ability to create new portions of Pink Cloud. Their lungs begin to independently produce gas already enchanted with the magic of Pink Cloud. Again, due to my ignorance of the nature of this magic, I cannot define the entire sequence of formation, as the gas appears already enchanted, and it is formed only in living specimens, not dead ones.

Another noticeable feature of the Pink Cloud spawns are the eyes, specifically their silver glow. This is seen in all species and races. The eyes of the living emit a slight silver glow, while the dead do not. If a Canterlot ghoul is decapitated, the silver glow in its eyes will gradually fade away. If he is severely damaged, which may cause him to simply pass out, the glow will not disappear. It is worth noting the lifeless gaze of feral Canterlot ghouls, both living and dead. Regarding the fading in sentient Canterlot ghouls: I didn't manage to examine their eyes at the moment of death (no one was willing to die for the sake of the experiment, which is to be expected). I can only say from their words: after death, their eyes do not lose their luminescence immediately, only after some time. Their words should not be taken on faith, but it is enough for a theory, after all, sensible Canterlot ghouls are practically no different from ordinary ones. Except for sanity, though I'm not sure of its adequacy. They're a bit of a head case, even by the standards of the Equestrian Wasteland.

Regeneration, which is already known from the stories about the Canterlot ghouls, is also worth mentioning. They can only be killed in two ways—decapitation or disintegration. Otherwise, any damaged parts of the body of the living dead will be regenerated to their original state. And the higher the concentration of Pink Cloud in the body of the still living dead, the higher the speed of their recovery and regeneration after severe damage. If they are knocked out in the area of lethal concentration of the enchanted gas, the recovery is even faster, in particular, the severed limb grows practically before your eyes! Incredibly powerful magic.

Despite the fact that most of the body's cells are dead and, therefore, the bodies cannot be physically strengthened, even temporarily, which is proved by the data of apparatus and devices, their bodies are stronger and firmer than they should be. Even under the microscope no strengthening of muscles and remnants of skin was observed, but in fact it is there! Undoubtedly, this is the magic of the enchanted gas. Once damage is inflicted, the body resists the external stimulus and its physical effects. Even I felt this resistance when piercing my subject with a needle. It bent with resistance. Sticking a needle into their body can only be done with great speed. Their teeth all become so strong and sharp that they can bite through bone and a bit of metal with their reinforced jaws, and the claws of the griffon ghouls (there was only one specimen, and that was from the post-war period) become incredibly strong. All of these advantages disappear along with the fading of the silver glow in their eyes upon decapitation. Apparently, Pink Cloud not only keeps the ghouls alive, but also improves their physical characteristics.

The bodies of Canterlot ghouls cannot move or regenerate without contact with the head. What causes this is not entirely clear to me. I dare to hypothesize that there is a connection to the brain, as if that is where the magic of Pink Cloud gives 'commands' to the whole body. I can say that the magic of Pink Cloud controls the body on the same principle as it passes naturally through the nervous system. I also forgot to mention that soul energy, which is generated from the natural life activity of the body (like blood, and which also recovers over time after loss), is absent in Canterlot ghouls, as it is in the true dead. I think it's replaced by magic or Pink Cloud energy. I'll note that even so, the original color of magic in unicorn ghouls remains unchanged, because mental energy and magic are different things. As for the sentient ones, they still have that soul energy. Maybe Pink Cloud's magic is mistaking it for its own. Again, the nature of this magic or energy is unknown to me.

It would take decades to fully understand the entire functioning of Canterlot ghouls, but before that, I still need to find out the nature of this magic or energy! I don't intend to do that, I was only interested in the difference between infected and uninfected cells for my work. However, I have bothered to ask about their behavior, at least superficially, and this is much more interesting for the inhabitants of the Wasteland, as their survival depends on it.

In this entry I tried to give a brief description of what I managed to learn during the main experiments. For more detailed information about the results of the tests and experiments, as well as a list of the equipment and research methods involved, please see 'Observations and Research Results' section in the subsection: Pink Cloud Impact. The nature of Canterlot ghouls."

Oh... that's a lot of information to digest.

Basically, I didn't learn anything significant from here. My own observations are confirmed and a few things are clarified. I only learn that the enhanced physical body abilities of Canterlot ghouls are clearly of magical origin, and that sentient Canterlot ghouls have the same benefits as normal ghouls. I also get an explanation for why canterlot ghouls don't show up on PipBuck and Pip-Boy: sensors and detectors identify them as dead. The lack of a soul—or rather, soul energy—also affects their detection. But why do red marks appear where no one is? Hopefully, I'll get some answer or hints to it in the next entries.

"Pink Cloud Impact. The behavior of Canterlot ghouls."

"I'm not much of an ethologist, but in the course of research one inevitably comes into contact with a pattern of behavior. Canterlot ghouls were no exception. As with previous research sites, I didn't go into much detail, given that the brain activity of Canterlot ghouls has remained a mystery to me. However, here's what I was able to figure out from observation and some experiments.

Canterlot ghouls spend most of their time in one place, especially near working sources of the Canterlot radio frequency. For some reason, they are attracted to it. I will talk about this unknown radio frequency separately in a related post. The sentient Canterlot ghouls of Stable 1 find this frequency annoying, but it has no effect on them.

Almost all the time, the regular Canterlot ghouls sit around with their radios on. They are only distracted by the appearance of an enemy or some source of sound. The latter can be used as a distraction. There are also loners who are not located near working radios. They are usually located in homes. I have a hypothesis that this is due to their habits or attachments, they stay near what is familiar to them. Perhaps the behavioral neural connections (habits) they have at the time of death or the infestation process set their dormancy pattern. This may also explain why some unicorn ghouls are able to use spells when chasing a victim. They behave according to recent memories or habits. But that's just a hypothesis.

Another distinguishing feature is that they can't see over long distances. At least not slow-moving objects. A running or fast-moving object they immediately notice. The conclusion is that the silver glow definitely does not help them to see. On the other side, they can notice a slow-moving object even behind a wall, if they are inside a certain radius. This is even evidenced by the writings of the crazies on the walls. The radius has a length of six average ponies. When crossing the line, it becomes irrelevant which side you're on, whether or not you made any sounds—they will inevitably sense a presence. They also pay attention to inanimate objects levitating towards them, or perhaps they simply see the telekinesis magic surrounding them.

It is unknown why they are blind to long-range vision, and for what reason do they seek to devour their victims if it is more profitable for them to turn them into their own kind? Sometimes they utter one-sentence sentences like "Eat!" and "Kill!". This is rather odd, considering that they don't need to consume food to function. Pink Cloud's magic provides everything for them as it is. Perhaps it's just a side effect of their behavior?

We tried taking the Canterlot ghoul outside Pink Cloud that surrounds the ruins of the city. It followed us relentlessly, but as soon as we were out of its sight, it wandered back into the ruins. We followed it. Within range of the pink gas, it stopped and didn't move.

What conclusion can we draw from all this for travelers? Don't make any noise, don't make any sudden movements, even if you find yourself in their sight, but if they sense your presence, don't yawn and get your hooves out. With their angry, loud growls, they attract their kin nearby.

Nothing else special could be found in their behavior. They do not differ much from ordinary ghouls in terms of behavior. More detailed information about the results of the analysis and experiments, as well as a list of the equipment and methods of research you can find in the section 'Observations and Research Results' in the subsection: Pink Cloud Impact. The behavior of Canterlot ghouls."

He basically voiced what I was able to find out experimentally. If we had this information in the first place, we could have saved a lot of time. Also the hypothesis that, being already ghouls, they behave according to lifetime habits, be it spells or playing a cello. But why was the composition played so afterlife and frightening? Or was it all the peculiarity of Octavia's mind in the last moments before the transformation?

And if Octavia found the Canterlot frequency appealing, why did the sentient Canterlot ghouls find it annoying?

"Pink Cloud Impact. The Canterlot radio frequency."

"There's not much I can say about this phenomenon. Radio waves are completely out of my area of expertise, but some basic knowledge I have. At least I can describe its unusual effects.

The Canterlot radio frequency affects the brain activity of all non-ghouls, accompanied by severe headaches and painful bleeding from the nose and ears. Ten seconds is enough to die from it; only Canterlot ghouls are resistant to it. It is worth noting that it is not the radio waves themselves that affect us, but the sound played through the radio receiver. Questioning the sentient Canterlot ghouls of Stable 1 has not yielded any coherent explanations as to the origin of the murderous sounds. There are too many myths even among them who have been in contact with them for a hundred and seventy plus years. All I know is that it was played at the time of the Pink Cloud's appearance, so I'm inclined to believe that it's the only thing involved in such a transformation. I've never been able to locate the source of the radio transmitter for this frequency.

One thing to note. If you record this deadly sound on a holotape or any other sound recording device, it will have no effect when played back. Same noise, but without the painful effects. I've tested it on myself. This suggests that the radio frequency is influenced by the Pink Cloud magic, as evidenced by the interest in it by the usual Canterlot ghouls. This noise needs to be listened to in person for it to have an effect—which, of course, I don't recommend doing. By a strange coincidence, the radius of influence of this sound is the same as the detection radius of the Canterlot ghouls. I took apart the local working radios for the sake of interest and did not find any defect in them: if you tune them to any other radio frequency, they work in natural mode, and the outgoing sound does not bring any discomfort. Though here it depends on taste, because some people, figuratively speaking, bleed from their ears from what is playing on DJ Pon3's radio channel... as ironic as that sounds in this place. The culprit behind the death noise is none other than the magic of Pink Cloud.

PipBuck's red and neutral marks appear on PipBuck from time to time. I don't know what causes this, so I mentioned it in the post about radio frequencies. Most likely, again, it's due to the magic of Pink Cloud: a PipBuck is probably mistakenly detecting living entities in the radio waves. That's the only explanation I can think of given the results.

That's all I've been able to find out on the subject. It's not much, but it's better than nothing. Simply put, unless you're a Canterlot ghoul, avoid reproduced noise in radios tuned to the Canterlot frequency anyway. I am so sick of using the word 'Canterlot'. The folks in the Wastelands couldn't come up with more distinctive and memorable names?

For more detailed information on the results of the analyses and experiments, as well as a list of the equipment used and the methods used in the study, please see the 'Observations and Research Results' section under the sub-section: Pink Cloud Impact. The Canterlot radio frequency."

Strange indeed. The other radio frequencies play without any discomfort. I had noticed earlier that the tracking chip was pointing to all five keycards correctly—so why was there such a problem in detecting the one that was lost in Canterlot? I have, importantly, gotten at least some hints as to the cause of the red and neutral tags in PipBuck. I don't deny that it's too easy to blame everything on Pink Cloud magic or energy, but there's nothing else to do. The nature of Pink Cloud's magic remains unknown to Professor. Or perhaps it was already known to him now? He had, after all, been in the territory of the zebras who had created Pink Cloud. I'll probably have to ask him about it sometime.

"Pink Cloud Impact. Mental state."

"Nightmare problems should have been included here, but I've put them in a separate category because of some curious things that came to light during the research.

From the time we first entered the ruins of Canterlot, I experienced some vague inexplicable anxiety. It never left me as long as I was within the confines of Pink Cloud. My griffon mercenary was also affected by it. He preferred that I not mention his name in my notes, as I did. His rights. But I digress. Again, psychology and neuropsychology are beyond me, but this curious phenomenon deserves its own section. As it turns out, it is directly related to Pink Cloud, for I have spent several days at various intervals out of its reach. The anxiety disappeared almost at once, and the residue was felt only after recalling it, but this is a nature of our memories: together with them arise distant sensations of what we were experiencing at that moment. My griffon assistant observed the same, for he had repeatedly left the ruins of Canterlot and the surrounding Pink Cloud for supplies.

Apparently, Pink Cloud has a direct effect on the mood of those who find themselves within its range. And the presence of the gas itself is not necessary, as is the case here. Certainly, the less of it in the air, the weaker the effect on the minds of non-ghouls, but its absence does not completely eliminate the magical influence. And all this is reinforced by the grim surroundings of desolation and the walking dead, who can chew through the bones of their victims like straws.

Some of the travelers' notes explicitly hinted that they had experienced anxiety of an unknown nature, and some had gone mad and turned into Canterlot ghouls. The rate of transformation depended directly on the amount of Pink Cloud absorbed, as well as the stability of the victims' sanity. The more susceptible the victim was to prejudice and superstition, the faster they fell into madness. Sentient Canterlot ghouls occasionally leave the confines of Canterlot and Pink Cloud in particular, but they notice no change in the transition. Perhaps they are simply used to it.

I suspect the mood is also affecting the nightmares that drove my griffon to madness. At first he willingly shared his experiences, feelings and thoughts with me, which he wrote down in his diary, but towards the end he became secretive and isolated. He responded with one-word sentences and rarely engaged in discussions. When I tried to ask him what he was writing in his diary, I saw irritation, anger, and sometimes even fury in his gaze. He clearly wants to hide something from me. In all the time I've spent here, his reasonable suspicion has been replaced by paranoia. Some kind of insanity. I'm inclined to assume that it's the Pink Cloud's moodiness that's responsible... But now I realize it could be caused by dreams. They have a much greater effect, especially in such gloomy conditions.

The depressing feeling of being here can be softened by pleasant sensations from anything: good food, good music, humor, good company, masturbation, and so on.

More detailed information about the obtained results of the tests and experiments, as well as the list of the involved equipment and methods of research can be found in the section 'Observations and Research Results' in the subsection: Pink Cloud Impact. Mental State."

Since listening to the first recordings, I kept wondering what happened to the griffon. After all, it was Pink Cloud's magic that was responsible for the oppressive mood. Now I know. But it's the dreams in this entry that I'm most interested in. I hope that Professor found something that will allow me to unravel this mysterious tangle of various facts, and the picture of what is happening will be formed by itself.

"Pink Cloud Impact. Dreams and Nightmares."

"Dreams. In the ruins of Canterlot, as I have discovered over time, take on unusual features. There are too many areas of scientific endeavor of which I have only a superficial knowledge, and dreams are no exception. I don't know much about them, but their unusual nature is apparent, and it is worth exploring at least superficially.

I should note that thanks to the equipment from the Fluttershy Neurosurgery Research Institute I was able to at least determine that there was no abnormal brain activity. What makes these dreams different from standard dreams? By what's going on in them. I didn't immediately notice the pattern of dreams, but when I did, I began recording and analyzing them in my spare time. At first, the griffon also shared the plots of his dreams.

In all cases, they are quite distinct, and the memory of them is always retained after waking, which in itself is not a common occurrence. I will briefly describe the plots of our dreams and nightmares. The main pattern: all dream plots take place in the area near our laboratory, and sometimes even inside it. That's what I've noticed over time; the griffon confirmed that this coincidence has occurred to him as well. It is natural—we see in dreams what we see in reality. But what is interesting and unusual is that all the stories are somehow connected to the laboratory and its surroundings. Statistically, this simply cannot be the case. We repeatedly had the same dream at the same time, sometimes we were even both there. Hence I concluded that this was another aspect of the Pink Cloud impact.

At first, the dreams were related to our... experiences, conscious and unconscious fears. We sometimes dream about them in one form or another. What matters is their very presence, their repeated occurrence time after time, which also statistically cannot happen in the natural course of things. Inevitably, there is an external impact, in this case, magic or the energy of Pink Cloud. Upon awakening, the dreams felt very believable, which in turn was unusual and curious, but I didn't have enough time to figure it all out and analyze it.

Another noticeable feature was that the griffon eventually began to see not himself, but the pony in his dreams. It was like he was in a pony's body, which was unusual for him, because he had never really cared much about being a pony or anything like that. He suffocated and died from the high concentration of Pink Cloud, or his body merged with the stone sidewalk of the local streets, or he killed himself quickly, apparently not wanting to suffer from the harmful effects of the enchanted gas. Such plots I have seen as well. By the way, towards the end, I stopped seeing myself in my dreams, and what was happening was noticeably repeating itself. Apparently, we had read too many notes and writings on the walls from survivors who had witnessed the horrific effects of Pink Cloud. The griffon may have been the reason he went insane, but his insanity was... unusual.

He would sometimes mutter in his sleep as he became secretive and isolated. It was hard to recognize anything coherent from his mutterings, but it was about some kind of wealth. Sometimes in his waking moments he would disappear somewhere without saying where he had gone or for what reason. He sometimes smelled of paint and left traces of it on his claws, and the colors were different from each other. One could not help thinking that he had decided to take up painting. Attempts to find out the motives of the sorties caused anger and aggression in him. Before he disappeared, in his last dream he muttered something about the garden of Canterlot's main castle. I think he went there and won't come back because the concentration of Pink Cloud is too high. The insanity killed him, and it could have been caused by nightmares.

From the moment I learned to resist the effects of these dreams—not without the help of my analytical and skeptical mind—they began to seem just plain annoying.

Unfortunately, that's all I've been able to find out. More detailed information about the results of the analysis and experiments, as well as a list of the equipment and methods of research involved, can be found in the section 'Observations and Research Results' in the subsection: Pink Cloud Impact. Dreams and Nightmares."

Professor didn't bring me anything new about dreams. He has, in fact, voiced what we ourselves have encountered. I take a quick look at his dreams, recorded in the Observations and Research Results section under 'Pink Cloud Impact. Dreams and Nightmares', but find nothing significant. I'll have to ponder what he's said in his report, but in the meantime, I'll listen to the last recording.

I also noticed that the griffon sometimes smelled of paint, and had multicolored spots on his claws. Could it be that he made the inscription in multicolored letters, "Rainbow is an upside-down horseshoe"? Definitely sounds like insanity. I wonder what the griffon's mind was whispering to him.

"Find the Dome and go home," Mr. Clean immediately says in my head.

Found time to make a joke.

"Conclusion."

"About to leave.

I've been quite productive in this place, I've learned a lot about the nature of Canterlot ghouls while touching on various aspects of Pink Cloud, like the effects on the psyche as well as unnatural dreams. Unfortunately, a lot of questions are left about the very essence of the magic or energy of Pink Cloud. Its secrets can only be revealed by the zebras themselves. And hardly the current ones, rather it is their ancestors—the pre-war scientists and alchemists, their reports and records of research. I had long wished to travel to their homeland. In the end, despite being savages, they had quite a few talented minds. For the record, I call everyone a savage, regardless of race or affiliation. Savages by my definition are those who unquestioningly believe in the existence of something that cannot be proven at this point in time. Superstitious fools.

I know that Baltimare has trading ships that travel between the two continents through the central part of the Sapphire Sea. Mostly zebras do it. I've been to Baltimare, the recognized trading center of the Equestrian Wasteland, before and have spoken with the zebras there. Pretty normal guys, if you don't touch on their superstitions about the Evil Stars. I'm going to their homeland. It's good for me for the reason that my popularity has grown a lot in the last five years, and that might attract some unwanted... characters. It's good to get away for a while, let them forget about me: a good excuse to escape to a neighboring continent.

The griffon won't come back—it's been too long, and I don't want to follow him into the clouds of pink gas. Cooperation was productive with him in the beginning. His crystal sword was quite interesting... and quite sharp. It proved useful against the local natives with their strong and tough skin. I've never seen or heard of a sword like it in my life: it's made entirely of crystal. I can't help but think of the mythical Crystal Empire. Too bad he took it with him on his last trip.

Anyway, that's all the research I've done on the seventh test site, which I thought to do with the available knowledge and means. I hope you found the information here useful. If I successfully make it out of here, I can pass it on to the others, but I'm leaving it here in case for some reason you don't know it."

How thoughtful... Still, according to Motley, there wasn't much information in the Wasteland about this place. From the records, he had done a lot of work, so why wasn't it in the public domain if he was going to pass it on to others? Perhaps it was because the Wasteland rarely spread quickly. Perhaps it was because of something else.

He had become popular in the last fifteen years at the time the records were compiled, which might have attracted some unwanted characters... If Homage mentioned him as a famous figure, he owed his popularity to DJ Pon3. Professor doesn't like fame, to say the least, and I can understand why. Obviously it's because of his past association with the Steel Rangers, whom he not only left, but robbed before leaving. He was a wanted criminal, after all, and that information could have spread to other chapters. Interestingly, he didn't mention the alicorns, and he had apparently been here over twenty years ago. That implied that they were relatively recent—at least, they hadn't been openly showing up back then.

So, it's time to deal with the dreams. I doubt we'll be able to get much more information that would open the veil of mystery. Professor has spent a lot of time here, but he hasn't found any data that could lead him to a clue as to the nature of the dreams we're seeing. Motley and Mr. Clean also participated in this brainstorming session to help me piece together the scattered pieces of the puzzle.

What do we have? Dreams are somehow reflected in the real world. For some time, I have had thoughts that I am currently between two states: dreaming and waking. However, this hypothesis is untenable for two reasons. First, the sequence of events that I observed was proceeding as it should, and there was no interruption. At least, it was not obvious. Secondly, Professor experimentally verified that there is no abnormal brain activity during sleep. Of course, this information may be a figment of my imagination in a half-sleep state, but I don't go too far with these thoughts—it's possible to go crazy that way.

In other words, this hypothesis doesn't fit. We're thinking from the beginning. I've already found that thread that would help me get to the truth. Maybe this time I'll have better luck with those bits of information from the Professor's notes on dreams.

It all started near a jewelry store, and since we can't trace the exact place where the dream began, we'll take that as the main starting point. Motley and I saw the same place, which we had never visited before. In my dream I was the one who accidentally hit the alarm system. Motley's dream showed the same accident, only it was she who did it. Rather unusually, we both set off a chain of stalking events by activating the security alert. Professor mentions in his notes that there were times when he and the griffon had the same dream, sometimes even being in the dream at the same time. So Motley and I are not unique.

In both dreams, mine and Motley's, only she dies. Again, due to carelessness, which cannot be attributed to the agile and graceful pegasus. She stumbles and is eaten alive by Canterlot ghouls. The memory itself gives me an uneasy feeling, and so does Motley, judging by her anxious look. In my dream I was trying to save her, whereas in her dream it was as if I didn't notice it, not to mention that I was extremely disappointed with her. She's clearly worried about appearing in an unflattering light in front of me, apparently forgetting that everyone makes mistakes. Just as long as it's not over and over again.

Anyway, already awake, we almost immediately stumbled upon this jewelry store from the dream, definitely not seen before. It felt like... deja vu, like we'd been there before. Octavia's dreams were somehow connected to familiar places near her home. Professor's and the griffon mercenary's dreams had a similar pattern, all taking place in the vicinity of the laboratory they had set up.

In all cases, the dreams reference reality and feel real. Octavia saw the body of a pony merged with the sidewalk on the first day of the disaster. Afterward, she dreamed of a similar painful nightmare happening to her body. It's only natural that we tend to dream about the events of the last few days that have particularly impressed us. The same goes for when she saw a pony being eaten alive, which also began to haunt her dreams. Before that, she had seen dark figures from the gloom with the outlines of ponies in them, and their eyes had a silver glow to them. This clearly hinted at Canterlot ghouls, which she had not yet seen at that point. Interestingly, Professor and the griffon, according to the former, may have had identical dreams due to reading the survivors' notes and the wall inscriptions left behind, but it is very strange that they saw the same plot at the same time. By the way, for them, what happened in the dream also felt like experiencing it in reality.

So why does Pink Cloud bring on these kinds of dreams? Or is it a side effect of something else?

I decide to ask if Motley saw the writing on the wall just before she tripped. She replies that she didn't notice any writing, but now she's not so sure anymore. I confess that I saw the inscription 'Canterlot Remembers All' in a dream, right next to that dried pool of blood. She doesn't like that I deliberately hid the coincidence, but she relents, realizing that she wouldn't have been able to grasp that information properly at the time. She draws my attention to it: the pool of blood is dried, which means it happened a long time ago. And really, I hadn't thought of it before.

Nevertheless, it is a remarkable and frightening similarity. Then what does the inscription 'Canterlot Remembers All' mean? Is it a mere coincidence? Once again, it seems not. My gut tells me I'm close, but I can't tell how close, or which way I should look. I've been going over everything a second time, trying to see if I've missed some important detail. Detail... details...

My thoughts wandered around the words Octavia had put down on paper describing her dreams. At first she was just being eaten alive, but then some details became clear to her, and she saw herself from the side of the pony that was then killed by the ghouls near her home. And not in any other place, just there. It was like she was seeing herself from the outside... being that pony... and she felt as if she'd actually lived through it. Canterlot remembers all. Remembers. Memory. A memory.

A memory!

There! At last! I've found the thread. I feel it's the right one, but first it must be threaded through everything we know about dreams in Canterlot.

Which I'm doing. I'm really excited! I carefully run everything I know through the prism of a memory as my main source, and the picture comes together! At first, Octavia had dreams of being eaten alive, but over time, details emerged. The same happened with the dreams of Professor and the griffon, at first they saw themselves, but over time they began to see themselves in the bodies of others, especially unusual for the griffon. Initially they saw themselves in dreams, but in time they began to see themselves as other ponies, but what was happening did not change. And all dreams were seen as memories! Like looking through a memory orb!

I suppose that here in dreams we see the last minutes or hours of the lives of those who were not lucky enough to die here, in the form of their own memories. If I think of it that way, I experienced something similar in the Stable 66. I didn't know there was a safe behind the cabinet—or file cabinet—in the Overmare's office. But I had learned of its location from the Overmare's daughter's memory. I was awake at the time, but still. Pink Cloud. Canterlot remembers all. Perhaps the dying minutes and hours of the dead here are somehow imprinted on the surrounding ruins, maybe even on the very magic of Pink Cloud that flows through everything. Why exactly the last hours or minutes? Perhaps it was because the Pink Cloud had already accumulated enough in their bodies to act as a recording device, and when the intoxication was complete with the successful subjugation of the body, the memories would merge with the magic around them.

So Motley and I dreamt of the same memory, probably the one closest to us in terms of space and time. Because of the weak connection it had with our own personalities, our experiences and... fears. Octavia saw the vague outlines of a pony out of the gloom with a silver glow in her eyes before she saw them in real life. It was quite possible that she had seen the last conscious vision of that pony before he had turned into a Canterlot ghoul. Simply put, the memories of the victims who died here are superimposed on our dreams. At first we see ourselves in them because of the weak connection to our consciousness, but over time the memories open up to it fully. And usually the memories of those who died nearby, as in the case of that jewelry store we fell asleep near... together. It turns out that depending on where we fall asleep, we will see the last conscious memories of those who died in that place.

Everything falls into place. The scattered facts come together into an elegant theory. A fumbling thread holds tightly to everything we know about dreams. In the moment of realization, I feel extraordinary relief, joy and pleasure. Yes! I did it. How I adore such moments of epiphany, like a breath of fresh and encouraging air.

Of course, I share my conclusions with Motley, and Mr. Clean agrees with me completely. The pegasus, as expected, at first accepts what she hears with skepticism and marked doubt, but I give her time to think. And as she ponders, her eyes seem to clear. She gasps and rejoices, her emotions overflowing so much that she even jumps up from the bed and hugs me. And then another thought popped into my head: the unexplained vague anxiety might be the result of the Canterlot ruins being literally saturated with death memories, painful and horrible. A memory orb can hold a memory... Canterlot remembers all. Like a giant shapeless and immaterial memory orb.

No matter who left this single inscription, it literally elegantly explains the nature of local dreams. And I was lucky enough to see it! Luck is definitely on my side... For now.

The feeling of euphoria of figuring it out is unforgettable. Motley and I can't get enough of it. There are no ghouls around anyway, so why not?

***

After getting more information about the ghouls and Pink Cloud in Canterlot, recovering from the effects of several battle drugs at once, and unraveling the secret of the nature of local dreams, we were ready to leave the lab, but my helmet still needed to be repaired. Earlier, before the Professor's improvised lab, we came across a police station, but we passed it, as the tracking chip didn't indicate it.

Motley slips into the dark power armor of the Enclave, and I cast another protective spell on her against the effects of small concentrations of Pink Cloud, since it had completely dissipated from the first bite in the fight with the ghouls. She goes in search of a fully enclosed helmet at the very same police station. I warn her not to engage in combat and risk her life. Any helmet with a respiratory system will do for me.

While she does her search, I flip through my spell book in the repair area. She returns half an hour later, bringing me a matte black helmet with golden patterns and a fully closed visor. Though the respiratory system is inferior to the one in my helmet, it's better than nothing. The spare PipBuck's estimate puts it at a decent cap cost, but mine is much more expensive and technologically advanced.

I disassemble the brought helmet into its components and use the necessary parts from the respirator system, as well as do some magical manipulation and apply the appropriate repair spells to fix it, which takes another half hour or so.

Once the repairs are complete, I put on the helmet, check its functionality, cast a spell to protect my armor and skin from the effects of Pink Cloud, and we move on.

The Fluttershy Neurosurgery Research Institute is as empty as a raider's heart: Professor had cleaned the place out before we got there and embezzled all the medications available to him, and he was using them up pretty fast, judging by the records of his experiments. We have no choice but to walk past the emptied rooms, where the only thing that lives is the draught that howls drearily from time to time. Motley steps ahead of me. Once outside, on the stone-paved street, we find ourselves immediately trapped under a greenish magical barrier.

"You shouldn't have looked at Motley's rump."

"I think we're in trouble," I look around anxiously, trying to find the spell's creator.

Motley is silent, turning his head in different directions with concentration. A green alicorn lands softly in front of us. Her horn shimmers lazily. She folds her wings and her eyes watch us intently. Curiously, she is not marked on PeepBuck as hostile....

"No need for violence," she says in a friendly manner, giving us a slightly worried look. "I don't want to kill you."

"That's hard to believe. What do you need?" the pegasus asks cautiously.

"Help."

There is a silence. She stares at us in tense expectation, standing outside the main entrance to the Fluttershy Neurosurgery Research Institute under a solid and sturdy magical barrier. I remember exactly how such a barrier was able to withstand the powerful laser volley of four turrets. There's no point in resisting. And, nevertheless, my thoughts are now occupied not so much by this unpleasant fact, but by a request for help. Judging by the pegasus' silence, I'm not the only one stunned by the single word voiced by the entity that captured us.

"With what?" I ask.

"And also thanks for not leaving me on the roof back then," she adds, still tensely awaiting our response.

Her words perplex me for a moment. Not leaving on the roof...

Fuck my horn!

"What are you talking about?" Motley wonders, noticing my silence.

"About two months ago," she begins in an worried tone while I'm still in shock, "on the roof of the Princess Luna Information Center in Manehattan, during a fight, I used a shield spell against the turrets that had spawned there. That... pony with a helmet with red visors and a distinctive cape... by some certain circumstances he was under me at the time."

At those words, Motley turns in my direction. It comes to me how it sounded. My other me is laughing.

"It's not what you thought..." I excuse myself.

This coincidence makes me start to think I'm dreaming the whole thing.

"...and I passed out from exhaustion. Then I woke up already on the sixteenth floor of the building. I didn't realize what had happened. The Goddess had sent me here... but I'd lost contact with her. I'm sure I don't want to obey her anymore."

"It happens to all the alicorns here," Motley responds, turning back to the alicorn. "But how do we know you're the one? Suddenly the knowledge of him," she nods in my direction, "has been passed on to the others, like what happened on the roof."

"Then why would I want to start a conversation with you? I had the advantage of surprise, could have easily killed you, but as you can see, I didn't hurt either of you. You have nowhere to run, and I can concentrate my magic and artificially cause you to burst your heart without much trouble."

"Agreed... And what kind of help do you need?" I respond, recovering from the shock. I didn't expect to meet her again.

"If you can help me find one item... as a token of my appreciation—also for saving me—I could go with you. Your proximity, the Goddess realized, is beyond her reach. I could also be safe there."

"And..." the pegasus interjects, "this item would help you escape her control over you until you are within her reach with us?"

"No idea," she utters guiltily, lowering her gaze for a second. "But this object... Absent the Goddess' control, it's been appearing in my vague memories for a month now. Some... feeling somehow tells me it's here in Canterlot. An unexplainable force binds me to him. For weeks now, the image of that sword... crystal sword."

I shudder. Professor had mentioned a certain crystal sword to the griffon, which he had dragged away with him when he went to the main castle garden.

"We have our suspicions... where it might be," I ponder. "Anyway, we'll help you... But maybe you could at least introduce yourself? Or tell us what we should call you?"

"I don't remember my name. A nickname used when addressing me came up in vague and fragmented memories," she trails off in thought, still maintaining the green barrier around us.

"And what was the nickname?" I ask with interest.

"Surgeon," she answers briefly.

My mind immediately flashes back to Homage's words from Tenpony Tower about the traveling Surgeon who vanished without a trace twenty-plus years ago. Could it really be her standing in front of me right now?

Author's Note

Finally! I've translated chapter 26. It took me almost two months
Further chapters will be the usual size of up to 20,000 words, and only occasionally exceed that threshold. I both love and hate this chapter at the same time. I liked the concept of Pink Cloud collecting the victims' dying memories in the process of becoming a Canterlot ghoul. And I hate that a significant chunk of the text is taken up by the notes and the diaries.