It was afternoon now, and a rather intense one. The throne room was brightly lit from the grand skylight above, and judging by how saturated the light shining in was, the sun had reached its peak.

Still, afternoons had never been this hot, not even in the summer. The heat had become so oppressive that Celestia had ordered blocks of ice to be brought for her and the guards – loyalty was admirable, but she’d rather her colts not fry themselves to death in their thick armour for her sake.

She mumbled to herself, wondering if the astronomical issue had anything to do with this… extreme weather. The stars had shifted, disrupting leylines, and now this? Something was not right. Definitely not right…

A loud bang and a huff broke her train of thought. Celestia looked up, noticing the sentry standing at attention.

“Your H-highness, the ministers are here!” he bellowed, huffing as sweat poured down his mane.

Celestia managed a chuckle, despite the heat, and nodded. “Send them in. And when you’re done, you must take a cold bath. This is an order,” she commanded with a teasing undertone. The guard bowed and, huffing again, pulled open the heavy wooden doors with his companion.

A crowd of groaning, tired ponies stumbled inside. Most were holding kerchiefs and fans to keep themselves cool. Celestia sighed quietly, for they looked quite pitiful, especially Minister Armillary – that haughty stallion had rather be baked in his wig and suit than slip into something more modern and cooling.

Celestia shook her head. There were more important issues at hoof than clothing styles.

The doors closed with a loud groan; the lone sentry had gone, probably galloping off for a cold dip. Celestia glanced around the room and smirked.

“Guards, take a bath. All of you,” she commanded again. They immediately obeyed, armour clanging and spears knocking as they rushed out of the throne room, excited. The doors closed behind them with a confident bang.

Celestia wanted to smile at their cheeky display, but the assembled crowd of depressed, dehydrated ministers dampened her mood. She coughed and took her seat.

“Thank you all for coming,” she began. The assembly nodded in acknowledgement, and she continued. “I’m sure you all know why we have assembled, despite this… malevolent weather.”

“Oh, it’s no trouble, Your Highness. We’ve battled creatures more malevolent than this insufferable weather,” chuckled Armillary. He gave a side-glance to his companions seated beside him, and they chuckled with knowing looks.

Celestia observed the minister with a lowered brow. “Minister, I suggest you get back on topic,” she firmly chastised. Armillary bowed his sweaty head and apologised.

“We are here to discuss any solutions we have to this current crisis,” she stated.

***

Tarla and Aidan cautiously made their way through the wide alley. It was dark, dingy, and permeated with a nauseating stench. Aidan’s nose twitched more than once at the scent of blood. A wary look revealed nothing more than ragged stalls selling rotting vegetables and wild game – an abattoir of sorts, seeing that fowl and rabbit hung from hooks dangerously strung upon overhead wires.

Tarla wasn’t affected at all by the meat, but to Aidan, it was a gore-fest. Unfortunately, she found it hard to sympathise, being somewhat of a meat-eater herself. “I don’t blame you, though,” she remarked. “You are a pony, after all. Green is your diet.”

Aidan nodded, before stumbling to the side and throwing up for the third time. Tarla brought a wing and patted him gently.

“T-thanks Tarla,” he mumbled. She nodded kindly.

They continued their way through Whitecottage Lane. It was infamous for many things, not least of which was being the road to the thestral quarter. Aidan had said it was located in a large cave, enough to house around a quarter of ten-thousand.

“Large enough to raise brows and suspicions from court,” he whispered.

Tarla noted the two sentries milling about the gates. Something seemed off about their ears, though…

“H-hey hey, pretty girl…” slurred a low voice. Tarla and Aidan’s heads snapped to the side. A ragged stallion trotted toward them. His uneven gait and lustful gaze told them a thousand words about his character.

Before Tarla could react, Aidan had stepped in front of her, briefly giving an I-got-this look to the griffon. Ignoring her protests, he marched toward the stallion.

“Back off, leech,” spat Aidan.

“And who are you, bastard?” riposted the stallion, his lustful gaze now turned into anger. He glanced between the two and spat. “You her coltfrien’ or somethin’?”

“I said back off.”

The stallion grabbed him by his neck and brought him close. “You listen to me, bugger – you are a bugger, no? Your pretty body tells me you enjoy colts more than ma–”

A hard hoof connected with his haggard face, sending blood and a tooth flying out. Now it was Aidan’s turn to grab the stallion by his neck. He leaned in close.

“No, you listen to me, lecher.” Aidan spat to the side and glared ice-cold daggers at him. “I’ll say it one last time. Back off.” He leaned closer, trying not to gag at the revolting stench of alcohol coming from the stallion’s bloodied mouth. “Or something else is gonna get punched. Understand?”

Aidan dropped him without waiting for a response. He trotted to Tarla and hugged her shivering form. “You okay?”

“Y-yeah… T-thanks, Aidan,” she answered.

Aidan nodded. “Come on, let’s go,” he whispered.

They resumed trotting, albeit at a quickened pace. The loud cussing of the lecher faded into the evening air. Night was coming, and Aidan kept Tarla close; he didn’t notice the blush beneath her cheeks.

There was still a bit of road between them and the gates. The guards stared at them, and Tarla noticed that their slitted eyes never left them. Their ears appeared tufted and befurred. Strange, thought Tarla. Perhaps it was a different tribe of ponies?

The dimness made it hard to see. A mist also began to settle. The sun was fading quickly beneath the horizon, and the only light in the alley came from one or two lanterns that hung warily from a building to their left. A few windows were lit, and there was some noise coming from inside. Tarla noted the two mares outside eyeing them intensely, a gaze that hung between lust and misery.

“It’s called The Snake’s Pit,” whispered Aidan, consciously keeping his voice low. Tarla shuddered at the name. “It’s a den of bong smokers and drug dealers. Not to mention” – he shakily gestured to the mares behind – “the p-prostitutes.”

Tarla gasped, shivering as a cold wind whipped her plume up. Was that..?

“Tarla, Tarla!” called Aidan, shaking her. She choked, whispering, “I’m s-sorry, I’m sorry…”

“It’s okay,” soothed Aidan, hugging her again. The warmth of his body slowly calmed the griffon, and she sighed.

“I don’t want to be here. Please, let’s just go in,” she whispered. Aidan nodded, and they continued forth.

“State your business!” barked one of the guards. They both clacked their spears against the dusty road, slitted eyes focusing in on the two visitors.

“W-we’ve come to visit the local loremaster. We just want to ask a few things,” stated Aidan, a bit timidly.

“What, you from the court?” spat the other guard.

The first one chuckled darkly. “Heh, the griffon looks like one from the Snake.”

“Hey!” roared Tarla. “I’ll have you know that I am an astr– mmff!”

Aidan shut Tarla’s beak with a hoof and chuckled at the guards. “I-I apologise, sirs. She’s a little… loud sometimes,” he offered. Tarla shot the pony a death glare and mumbled some curses, but Aidan ignored her. Instead, he cleared his throat and continued, “He’s my friend, the loremaster” – Well, sort of, he thought – “He said to say this if I wanted to meet him. It’s… uh, it’s…”

Aidan hesitated. Languages weren’t his strong point. Well, the worst he might do is accidentally swear (was it even possible?), and then the guards would poke the end of his rump and chase them away. Mission failed, in that case.

No, I can do this, he determined, and huffing a sigh, he stated, “Er… Erle rishga… uh, balsh… kan! Yeah, erle rishga balsh kan!”

He panted, waiting for the guards’ response. Hopefully he’d gotten it right…

“Ahem, it’s balesh, not balsh, but… good try,” remarked the first guard, spitting on the ground before continuing. “Fine, we let you in.”

Tarla breathed a sigh of relief, while Aidan repeatedly thanked the guards. “However,” the other warned, spear deftly pointed at Aidan’s heart, “do not say anything about what goes on inside. We’re legal folks, but the ponies will use anything and everything against us. Clear?”

“G-g-got it. I’ll just say I v-visited a friend,” mumbled Aidan, with a nervous smile. Satisfied, the guards allowed them passage through the gigantic iron double-doors. Though, likely for safety’s sake, only one was opened, and with a creak so fierce that Tarla thought it’d thundered.

They stepped inside. It was a voracious cavern – a jaw of sorts, one that waited patiently for its prey to bounce in, ignorant and unworried. Tarla wondered… would it snap shut, crush, and devour them, just when they weren’t looking?

“Stupid ponies…” mocked one of the guards, as the door banged shut behind them, cutting off the sentries’ jeers. Welp, they were food now, weren’t they?

“Those were thestrals,” informed Aidan, bringing Tarla out of her macabre musings.

“They were? Huh, no wonder their ears looked, uh, different,” she remarked.

They trotted briskly towards a loft, where a little lamp emanated blue light. Such a small lamp, of course, dimly lit the small area. It was enough to mark the entry into the quarter. Tarla’s throat began to burn slightly, and she choked as they neared the loft, while Aidan’s eyes began tearing.

“Ugh, what is this?” rasped Tarla between coughs.

Aidan huffed, toxic breath escaping his nostrils. “I think it’s sulphur. The thestrals are – cough – more or less engaged in… dangerous work,” he answered. Of course, he hesitated on the second-last word. After all, it was hard to imagine what a fellow creature went through every day, in a society so hostile and an environment so lethal.

A low, hammering drone began to reverberate as they entered the loft. The lamp, Tarla noted in her coughing fit, was filled with some… blue creatures. A bug of sorts, one that radiated blue light. There were enough of them to make the lamp glow with a benevolent halo.

“Bio-" – she coughed again – "Stupid sulphur – bioluminescent lights, huh?”

“Safety reasons. You know, they don’t want fire around here…” commented Aidan. “Come, let’s go, I think we’re reaching.”

The low hammer drones gave way to high-pitched shrieks and chirrups. Chittering, actually, not chirruping.

And there, they saw it.

In a hewn-out space, large and cavernous, sat a small city bathed in glow-bug lights of blue and orange. The cave itself must’ve been… as large as the castle itself. Or maybe her perception of space was screwed, but Tarla had never seen anything like this – a city secreted into a mountain.

“So… this is the place?” inquired Tarla.

Aidan turned to her and nodded, before pointing to a small tower. “That’s the loremaster’s house. He’s… technically my friend,” he explained.

Tarla shot him a bemused smile. “What’s with the ‘technical’? A friend’s just a friend, no matter how close you are, right?”

She smiled, and Aidan chuckled nervously. Oh, the blue light just made her so pret–

“Come on, let’s go. What are you waiting for?” called Tarla. Aidan shrugged and smiled; perhaps he could admire later on.

They descended a flight of roughly carved-out stairs, Aidan taking the lead. Despite the glow-bug lamps radiating from the city, the area around was unlit, and rather damp – not to mention that putrid smell of toxic gas and waste.

As they reached a street – if it could be called a street – Tarla began to notice that slitted eyes were watching them – intently, and silently. Like… predators watching their prey. Tarla shuddered, but Aidan took no note. He sallied on, griffon in tow, as the growing crowd of fanged, suspicious, miserable thestrals eyed their guests’ movements.

“They hate ponies,” whispered Aidan. “I don’t blame them.”

They turned into a denser part of town. The blue of the organic lamps became more concentrated. Subdued chitterings and faint hissing emanated from the large mass of thestrals; it was clear they didn’t like them, not one bit. The distant hammering and droning only made the duo’s hearts beat faster.

From somewhere amidst the noisy crowd, a thestral bellowed some gargled word. Tarla’s ears flicked, both in fear and in interest – a word from their native tongue, perhaps? Given their situation, he’d likely sworn at them.

They reached a house with a small tower. “We’re here,” announced Aidan. He knocked on the wooden door with three quick raps. Tarla stuck close to him, trying to ignore the stares of the rabble around them. Aidan kept his focus on the door; he also didn’t want to face the crowd. The loremaster better answer the darn door…

In the course of their wait, however, the crowd wasn’t so patient.

“What are you doing here, pony?” spat one of them – a stallion, judging by his voice.

“Yeah, what does a pony have to do with us?” added another, also a male.

“Spies!” accused a third. Gasps and jeers radiated from all around. Tarla snapped towards the agitated crowd, searching for the accuser. It was easy to spot her – she was a big thestral, a mare of sorts. A really, really buffed dam, her mane hung in ragged chunks, while her fangs were double the size of the others’. Her slitted eyes looked ready to slit throats, and Tarla whimpered, grabbing Aidan’s trembling hoof by instinct.

“P-please don’t hurt us…” she begged, although her pleas were drowned by the crescendoing mass.

Aidan had turned by this time also. He glanced at Tarla, and she glanced at him. For a moment, he saw her eyes flicker with a plea. A plea for protection. Aidan gulped and looked back towards the angry crowd, and tried his best to scrunch his cheeks in determination.

“Hey! Leave us alone!” he cried, pushing Tarla behind him as he stood between her and the crowd. The clamour softened, if only a little to hear what he was saying. “Look at us. Are we dressed in armour?” he continued. The crowd didn’t answer; the big, buff mare gazed at him with scorn.

“Are we armed with a sword, huh?” shouted the pony. A few heads shook “no.” He frowned and continued. “Did we shout at you? Insult you? Hurt you either by hoof or tongue? Huh?”

More heads shook “no.” The buff mare’s scorn mellowed down to thoughtfulness.

Aidan sighed. “Please. We just want to… ask a few things of the loremaster. I know” – he glanced through the crowd with sad, uneasy eyes – “I know you hate us. And I don’t blame you. Just let us be,” he finished, meekly turning to Tarla and giving her a hug. He proceeded to knock on the door again – this time harder.

The crowd began to disperse. Tarla noticed a few lingering behind walls, or crates – maybe they were curious this time. However, the big, buff mare, who’d snarled accusations and slanders against them, stood in the middle of the quiet street. She gazed at Tarla, then to Aidan as well, mouth slightly agape and breath shallow. Perhaps she was contemplating, wondering if she’d gone too far.

Tarla glanced at Aidan. He was sad – a simple sadness of sorts. He wasn’t conflicted, or frustrated about anything. He was just simply… sad.

“I-I… I-I’m sorry,” mumbled the big mare. Tarla turned and noticed her trotting, ever so slowly, towards them. Tarla’s heart began to beat faster, and she did her best to breathe calmly.

Just then, the door creaked open. A ragged cough followed by a hoarse grunt came from inside. Aidan huffed a loud sigh of relief.

“Oh, finally! What took you so long, Nisha?” demanded Aidan.

The thestral in question grinned nervously. “Hehe, forgive me, my boy. I, uh, may have fallen asleep while reading.” Aidan rolled his eyes and sulked, though he relented when Nisha closed in for a hug.

“It’s been so long since I saw you,” cooed the thestral. “I may be blind, but I will always remember your voice and scent.”

Tarla gasped. “You’re blind? How?”

Flinching, Nisha turned a bit. “Oh, you brought somepony with you..?”

Aidan paused; he’d forgotten about Tarla, hadn't he?

“Uh, yeah, sh–” he began, but before he could finish, the thestral cut in with a wicked grin. “Ah, haha, why didn’t you tell me you brought your marefriend!” he jeered.

Tarla and Aidan’s faces blushed madly – though, with a blind creature and a house so dark, nopony would really see it… right?

“Uh, w-well, I’m actually his colleague at work,” corrected Tarla, trying not to die from the awkwardness. Though, she secretly thought, I really want to be his someday…

“Hehe, anyway! Forgive me, come in, come in!” called Nisha, leading the two of them inside. Here goes nothing… brooded Tarla. I hope I can find some answers.

Author's Note

Apologies for the long wait (3 months!). Many things happened and I came to a huge adjustment in life, so, of course, the story had to wait. I'm very busy because of school currently but I'll try to find time to pick this fic and move it on. Cheers