The dying of the light

Far below the golden spired towers and battlements of Cantermere castle, the once quiet city had come alight with the movement of hundreds, if not thousands of Thestrals, both soldiers and civilians alike. Shouts and orders bounced across crowded streets from one group to the other, the words barely distinguishable amidst the chaotic bedlam of voices. Groups of hastily assembled refugees threaded their way through the crowds, laden down with heavy bags and carts containing whatever their hooves could carry. The city square, which was once a wide expanse of open space flanked by coffeehouses, restaurants and shopfronts, was now filled almost to the brim with soldiers. Boxes of medical supplies, food and water rested in large, messily assembled heaps next to canvas tents. Soldiers hovered over the heads of the crowds, desperately trying to gain control over the influx of Thestrals that had descended upon the small city. Distant rumblings of faraway cannonfire permeated throughout the night, occasionally drawing the attention of the disorganised masses.

A small field kitchen had been set up towards the eastern end of the city square, steeped in tall, dark shadows from the castle directly beyond it. Already, the beleaguered staff were struggling to keep up with demand, rationing out half portions for the hundreds and hundreds of hungry equines lining up. A phalanx of guards in white armour stood still and resolute just beyond, blocking the small winding path to the castle proper beyond. Anyone who made the mistake of straying too close was met with a line of sharp, glistening fangs and sparking, crackling horns, resulting in everyone keeping a wide, cautious distance.

Beyond this small pocket of relative order, the majority of military and civilian activity accumulated around the grand, imposing Ly'synė statue. Situated almost exactly in the middle of the city square, the dark statue towered above the comparatively tiny Thestrals encompassed in her shadow. Outstretched wings flared across her dark marble body, scraping against the dark horizon from east to west, her noble head defiantly facing the rising sun. Adorned in her royal armour and regalia, the Thestral’s princess of the night stood quiet and still over her flock, a reassuring figure for those in her presence in spite of her long exile. A few older Thestrals kneeled below the immense effigy, clutching onto sacred items while uttering prayers and pleas. Foals cried, exhausted parents holding them close while absent mindedly rocking them back and forth.

Off to one side, a small collection of supply crates had been roughly dragged together, creating a makeshift desk of sorts. The royal Ly’synian battle emblem had been erected behind the crates, gently fluttering in the turbulence created from the flight of so many Thestrals in close proximity. A rough wall of boxes, some already opened, had been erected around the area, affording those encamped within some small façade of order.

Situated within, a bespectacled teenage stallion leant over the desk, holding his head up with one hoof as he frowned at the scene unfolding before him. He rubbed his bleary eyes, holding back another yawn as he returned his attention to the sprawling mess of papers before him. Various military reports, refugee counts and supply quotas stared back at him unremittingly, the assorted letters and numbers seemingly bleeding into one monotonous blur. The beginnings of a migraine were nagging at the corners of his mind, and he rubbed his hooves against his temples in absentia.

He stifled a frustrated groan, flexing his grey wings about his body in repeated, steady motions. He rolled his shoulders at the same time, a series of quiet pops and cracks reverberating through his joints. A sleepless night spent receiving both refugees and wounded soldiers returning from the front lines had kept him on his hooves almost constantly, which did little to sedate his sore muscles since their flight from Ly’synia.

A flash of golden fur blurred into his periphery, momentarily catching the stallion off guard. He jolted upright, leafy ears swivelling forwards as he snapped his head back to face whoever had just materialised in front of him.

“Mislana?” The pegasus stallion spoke quietly, flashing a brief look of concern in the young Thestrals' direction as he stumbled to his hooves. He flared his wings out for balance, eventually managing to stand upright behind the table. He flashed an embarrassed smile, his cheeks turning a light red.

“A-Amber Dawn!” he stuttered out a reply, awkwardly folding his wings back down at his side. “I was just…”

“Taking a break?” he smirked, unfastening his heavy saddle bag and setting it down on the table between them. “You look like you need one…” he added at the end, his ears partially drooping.

Mislana bit his bottom lip and exhaled, his shoulders deflating as he collapsed back into the chair. “Yeah,” he replied while yawning. A high pitched squeak left his lips, making Amber Dawn flinch and rub his ears. Seemingly undeterred, Mislana pulled loose a few of the papers from underneath Amber's saddlebag. “Any updates for me?” he asked, glancing up at Amber while propping his head upright with one hoof.

Amber mumbled something in reply, most likely heavily punctuated with various curse words. He reached into the bags, ears still twitching, and produced a small stack of papers, in addition to a telegraph. Mislana reached forwards and took the papers, pushing his glasses further up his nose as he began skimming through.

“We’ve got four casualty clearing stations set up and on standby…” He inhaled slowly, tracing the lines of text with his hoof. “And C.R.I. have already begun discharging their least critical patients…”

“The hospital?” Amber tilted his head quizzically. Mislana nodded in confirmation. “They’re still awaiting transports, but the director assured me they’d be ready to start receiving military casualties within a day or two”.

Something resembling a deep, low thunder cut through the stallions’ conversation. Mislana looked up from his desk, his slitted eyes carefully studying the eastern horizon. An amber glow flickered across the sky, briefly marring the otherwise stunning constellations and galaxies above them. Mislana felt drawn towards them, finding himself studying the subtle reds and blues pushing and pulling at his eyes. Streaming bands of stars bled out across the night sky, the thousands upon thousands of shimmering lights reflecting in the dark pools of his eyes. His jaw dropped slightly, and he imagined a pony just like him in another galaxy, staring back and seeing him as just another speck in that infinite canvas.

“They’re getting closer…”

“Mhm,” Mislana responded, reluctantly dragging himself back into the present moment. He smirked, a small, bitter thing. “So much for getting any sleep.”

Amber Dawn exhaled through his nose, almost smirking before his face settled into a troubled frown. He set the stack of paper to one side and slid the telegram into his hooves, still vaguely distracted by the distant cannonfire. Amber shifted uncomfortably from one side to the other, resting his weary limbs. “When… when did you last get a bite to eat?” he hesitated in an attempt to distract the Thestral.

“I had an orange… “ he paused, tapping a hoof against the ground. “Yesterday?” He glanced down at his stomach, only just noticing the dull throb of hunger pains for the first time that night. Shaking his head and shrugging dismissively, he finished reading the telegram. His ears perked forwards, an apprehensive smile tugging at the edges of his lips.

“Has my sister seen this yet?” Mislana glanced up towards Amber, his tone more urgent than before.

“I brought it straight to you,” Amber Dawn shook his head, casting a lethargic gaze towards the lofty castle situated beyond the Ly'synė statue. “What does it say?”.

“The first battalion of Equestrian reinforcements have reached Ly’synia…” He smiled hopefully, perhaps for the first time that night.

Amber stared back at him with wide, surprised eyes. Mislana hoofed the telegram over to him, allowing the stallion to read through the few lines of text with his own eyes. “We… we need to bring this to the Margravine, right away!” Amber’s eyes were absorbed in starlight. Reaching across the desk, he took hold of Mislana with one hoof and half dragged, half pulled him to his hooves.

Mislana stumbled awkwardly, cursing under his breath as he nearly fell on top of the Equestrian guardspony. He mumbled an apology and brushed himself off.

“She’s still in the castle, right?”

Mislana nodded his head almost indiscernibly, glancing skywards. The full moon hung low across the star speckled horizon, and the first hints of dawn were still many hours away. His face tightened at the corners of his mouth, and he turned back around to face Amber Dawn.

“We’ve got a few hours still,” Mislana breathed, gazing out across the crowds in an effort to hide his exhaustion. “We can’t disturb the Dream Council until sunrise…”

“Really?” Amber inquired incredulously, tilting his head to one side. Mislana nodded, distracting himself by folding the telegram paper neatly and storing it securely in a small pouch at his side.

“It… didn’t end well last time I disturbed Lavinia’s dreamwalking..” Mislana mumbled, idly scraping his hoof across the cobbled ground.

“Yeah…” Amber took a deep breath, faux cringing while adjusting his uniform. “I dunno’ who’s heads hurt worse after that, hers or the rest of the castles” He snickered, managing to elicit a similar reaction from Mislana. “Hey, means you’ve got a chance to get some food now, right?”

Mislana opened his mouth to protest, but was quickly cut off by Amber.

“Look” Amber Dawn placed a hoof on Mislana’s shoulder. “You’re no use to us if you can’t even see straight!”

“But- but I’ve still got so much work left to do…” Mislana protested, forcing back a particularly large yawn from escaping. “Look”, he started, brushing Amber's hoof from his shoulder. “I’ve still got the casualty reports from Windridge to sort through, I’ll take a break after that”. A pause. “I promise.”

Another crescendo of cannonfire broke through their conversation, significantly louder than any previous episodes. A few distant cries and shouts rang out across the crowded square. The bombardment lasted for several long, agonising moments, briefly casting a nauseating, flickering glow across the anxious inhabitants of Cantermere.

The stallions both cringed, nervous eyes glued to the horizon beyond the city walls.

“Mislana,” Amber began, swallowing a sour lump in his throat. “Get some rest while there’s still some time, alright?” He turned to face the Thestral, a nervous tinge to his tone. “I can look after things on this end for now.”

Mislana hesitated, dark, wide eyes still fixed on the flickering hellfire just beyond the horizon. His hooves trembled slightly beneath his body, and he finally hung his head, letting out an exhausted sigh. “Thank you Amber” he mumbled, relaxing his tensed muscles while fumbling to pick up a dark blue cloak that had been slung over the back of his seat. He threw it awkwardly across his lithe frame, attaching the silver clasp across the front.

He tucked his loose, dark mane into the hood, stooping down to pick up his discarded sabre. He slung the weapon across his shoulder, pinning the loose cloak to his body more effectively and managed to summon a grateful smile directed at Amber Dawn.

“Get some rest, alright?” Amber said over his shoulder, already setting to work sifting through the mess of reports Mislana had left scattered across the tables. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Yeah, I’ll see you in the morning,” Mislana snorted, mimicking the pegasus’ words as he slowly weaved his way through the pulsating mass of bodies encapsulating them. He tore his eyes away from the sky, needing anything to distract him from the inevitable firestorm looming just beyond the horizon.

Stomach rumbling, he instead focused his gaze on the dizzying heights of Cantermere castle far above him. Even from this far below the ground, candlelight from the small windows managed to shimmer through the thick of night, resembling something similar to the sky lanterns released during the summer sun celebrations. Mislana yawned once more, pulling his hood over his head before melting away into the lively night.