The Universe Hates You Specifically

by Majestik_Moose

Rating: teen
Tags: Adventure, Sex, Suicide / Self Harm, Profanity, Violence, Death, Alternate Universe, Narcotics, Gore, Trixie, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic
Length: 31998

One mare goes on an epic quest that only seems to grow in scale as time goes on.

A simple deal to buy a certain book ends up leading to a very long series of coincidences and cosmic accidents, all of which somehow lead to something important actually happening.

In which a certain great and powerful witch ends up at the centre of a plot that threatens to permanently change the world, for better or worse.

Full Disclosure: This is going to be a long one. I will go back and change things, I will edit as I go, and I have no idea if I'm ever actually going to get to the end. Also note that this is my first published fic.

Also the current cover art is still a placeholder

Published 2023-04-26 15:40:01 UTC
Last updated 2023-06-02 02:22:22 UTC

1. There's One Born Every Minute

Cutting through the stench of cheap food and cheaper talk, the pony sitting across from Bea was near drenched in a sickly sweet cologne- he probably thought it made him smell refined, but in reality it was just as oily as he was. She had been trying to work on containing her distaste for the whole affair, but at this point her frustration was bubbling over into fury.

“What do you mean,” the blue mare hissed between gritted teeth, “you don’t have it?”

Sal paused, a mug of shitty beer halfway to his lips. Lethargically chewing on a toothpick, he set his drink down slowly, and flashed her a grin. “Sorry it had to happen, Sparky- but an offer came in from Canterlot that blew yours out of the water.” He took a swig before chuckling, “They even offered a little something extra, supposing we helped them get their hooves on a certain somepony-”

The two stallions in the neighbouring booth that had obviously been waiting for this signal, stood abruptly, quietly echoing his laughter. He looked her dead in the eye. “Somepony with a tendency to poke her nose where it doesn’t belong.” He cleared his throat holding up a hoof to halt his goons. “Buuu-ut, I could be convinced to let this particular individual go- if she were able to cough up enough cash to meet the rather generous offer”

Bea slid out into the aisle and stood, smoothing down her cloak and straightening her saddlebags. Most of the bar patrons who hadn’t already left started to make their way outside, not wanting to stick around for the conflict that was obviously brewing. Calm and serene, she spoke without looking at anyone in particular. “Do you still have the money I paid you?”

Cousin Sal’s bemused smirk quickly shifted into a guffaw, and he clutched at his chest- “Course I do! It ain’t like it’s gonna walk off, ya dumb broad!” he laughed, his goons struggling to keep themselves from joining in.

“Good.”

Sal wiped a tear from his eye- “Damn right that’s ‘good’! It’s borderin’ on fucking excellent if you ask me.” Expression suddenly hardening, he narrowed his eyes at her, “So if I’m hearing this right; I’m not getting any more money from ya?” She nodded curtly in response, and he whistled through his teeth.

“Tis a real shame y’know… you’ve been a great client, and an even better asset on the hoofful of jobs you’ve done for me.” Nodding at one of the thugs surrounding her, he continued. “Hell, just looking around the room, I’m pretty sure Fudge has a bit of a crush on you- big sook that he is; pos-i-tive-ly enamoured.” Bea glanced over her shoulder at ‘Fudge’. He did not live up to his namesake. The stallion in question lifted his gaze from her hindquarters, and winked at her. Gross.

“Aaaaaanywho… I’m sure the guard’ll be here soon, but I reckon we’ve got enough time to say our farewells properly.” He made eye contact with the other two stallions, gesturing for them to move forward.

Turning on him, Beatrix spoke with such raw malice that Sal shrunk back for a moment. “When I’m done with these pathetic losers, we’ll be going to get my money, and what you owe me.” Before he could retort, she bucked backwards with all her force, catching Fudge with two hooves to the face and sending him to the floor in a heap. The other grunt lumbered forward as Bea skipped towards him. She ducked under his first strike and grabbed his hoof as it went by, bringing his foreleg up and locking it in place before throwing him into Fudge as he struggled to stand. Walking past Sal slowly, she made her way over to the two stallions struggling on the ground, and grabbed a hoof-full of their manes, pulling their heads up to eye level.

“Fudge, other moron- I want you to meet my good friend, the floor.” And with that she dropped them, letting gravity introduce the two parties to each other. Fudge moaned about his muzzle, which was almost certainly broken by now. Bea looked sternly at them for a moment, almost daring them to get back up, before turning to Sal with a harrumph. “Well, now that they’re acquainted, let’s go get what you owe m-” Just as she was about to finish her sentence the door flew off its hinges, finding a new home atop two mewling thugs.

“Ah sonuva- Sterling, I broke the damn door!”

Stepping inside, a boring looking pegasus who Bea could only assume was Sterling sighed. “I can see that.” Taking stock of the scene before him; two mostly unconscious scumbags, the particularly greasy asshole that employed them, and the wanted criminal that was currently dragging said asshole about by the ear.

Sterling sighed again, “Sal, you never cease to disappoint. I mean, this is just sad.” He strode forward, unintentionally walking over the door and being rewarded with a shout of pain, some nasty crunches and a horribly visceral squelching noise for his effort. Grimacing, he apologised under his breath before going on. “When you contacted us, we told you to keep the suspect here at your bar until we arrived. I will admit you managed that much, but only barely.” He turned to his target. “Witch. Have anything to say for yourself before we take you in?”

“Yeah.” she stifled a snort over the sound of something rolling across the floor. “Wait- shit. Actually no, I don't. Damn, one-liners are hard.”

Sterling looked at her quizzically for a moment until something spherical bumped into his hoof. He took a cautious glance downwards to find a strange glass orb with something pale swirling about inside it. The orb cracked a little, and all he could do was look up at the mare he’d been tasked to arrest, as an explosion of pink smoke flooded the room. There were sounds of galloping hooves and a loud thud- then nothing but the slow exhale of the gas slowly settling as it dispersed.

~~~

Sterling walked outside, slowly, his eyes stung and the inside of his mouth and nose were dry and itchy. He shook off the cobwebs and whistled. Moments later, heavy wingbeats accompanied by a thump signalled his partner’s arrival. “And where, exactly, were you?”

Edgar looked around sheepishly and scratched at his neck with a talon. “Uhh.. sorry? After the door, I figured I should probably hang back.”

Sterling furrowed his brow, and pinched the bridge of his muzzle.

“You’re a fucking liability, you know that?” Breathing deeply, he flapped his wings and took to the air. “Whatever. Come on then. Let’s go Witch hunting.”

2. A Brisk Stroll Through The Woods

In honesty, she hadn’t intended upon bringing Sal with her, but it just kind of happened- after the calvary arrived, she panicked- just a little- and forgot to let go of the con-stallion before making her daring escape.

Still running through the backwoods, stray branches whipping at their coats and gnarled roots threatening to trip them up, it quickly became apparent that her unwilling companion was only going to slow her down.

They came to a halt, Sal briefly choking as she yanked him backwards. “You can’t be serious.” Folding her hooves, she regarded the dishevelled stallion with a measured balance of disdain and disinterest. “We’re not even close to your scummy little hideout.”

Panting and wheezing, his eyes briefly went wide at how casually she mentioned his lair, but he was far too out of breath to do anything other than stare murderously at her as he crawled backwards, propping himself up against a tree.

“You know, at first I was just going to outright steal the book from you.” She looked away, “I probably should have” turning back to him, she rose her voice and stabbed a hoof at him, “I mean; I expected you to pull some kind of crap like this from the start- but NO, I decided that I was going to be the better pony.”

“Whatever. Not like it matters.” Having said her piece, she went to his side, and struck him twice, once in the stomach, and as he doubled over, again in the spine. They weren’t particularly hard blows- he had seen her punch through walls in the past- yet he immediately felt his entire body seize up. Instead of the more understandable state of panic, he entered a deep calm; his thoughts suddenly cleared. Ahh, he thought to himself. Witchery.

“You’ll regain your faculties within a few minutes; be thankful that I’m feeling forgiving, right now.” She rushed out the last half of the sentence, almost stumbling over her words, and an awkward silence followed as the two of them looked at each other.

It seemed like she was about to say something else, but then she just shook her head and ran further into the woods. Sal remained where he was, stewing upon the way things had gone. Also, he was still paralysed.

It had been a risk for him to intentionally draw the ire of such a wild mare. The stories about her varied- but the common takeaway from each and every tale, was that Witches Are Not To Be Provoked.

She could have killed him. She probably could have done far worse things too. As he thought back on how quickly she incapacitated Brutus and Fudge, he inwardly winced- his “guards” had not signed up for this, and he would have to cover their medical expenses, not to mention he’d have to find two replacement players for the under-40s hoofball team.

Sure, he could have hired actual mercenaries that might have been able to put up a proper fight, but that had never been the point. Besides, that would have probably actually pissed her off.

Still, he was getting paid when the clock ran out, and nobody else was going to get too badly hurt from here, so long as everything went to plan. He snickered at the thought, and silently thanked the Sun that he had no part in the mad scheme any longer.

Minutes went by.

Distant voices floated through the trees. Or at least one did.

“Hey, Sterling! Sterling, I betcha can’t… Hey! Ste-” the idiot came into view. “Oh look! I found the guy!”

The sounds of rustling leaves, a gentle but extremely exasperated sigh and light hoofsteps came from behind him, and he felt hooves prodding him. “Oh! You found him too!”

“You did great Edgar.” Sterling walked around to Sal’s front and stared him down with an apathetic half-smile. Face to face, the two stallions squinted at each other. Sterling was dependable. He was resilient. Sal had met him years ago while he was still serving in the Equestrian guard. The kid was just a lance-corporal then, but he was often brought up in conversations among the more senior officers; half-serious nudges in the ribs and casual chats over drinks; many predicted a meteoric rise to prominence for the young stallion. But there was no such luck for Sterling Outreach.

“Howdy, Sterling.”

Sterling nodded. “Sal. Where is she?” The paralysed bar-owner spluttered into a peal of choked laughter at his bluntness.

Sterling cocked his head very slightly, and Sal obliged him with a response. “She’s headed to a lil’ farmhouse about 5 kliks east-by-northeast. I doubt there’ll be anypony still there- other than her o’course.” Sal leaned forward a little, and whispered conspiratorially “This probably won’t go smoothly- you might wanna ditch bird-brain over there.” The two of them glanced over at the griffon, who was currently staring off into space.

Sterling nodded as he turned to address his partner. “Edgar,” he spoke clearly and with enough volume to snap him back into reality “I need you to take Sal back to town. He’ll need to have his injuries treated, and then we’ll need to question him.” Edgar raised a talon to object but was immediately shut down as Sterling continued “Can you do that for me?”

“But-”

“Can. You. Do. That? I need a yes, or a no.”

Sterling gave Edgar a look, daring him to answer with anything other than an affirmative.

“Yeah, uhh… sure, I g-”

“THEN GO.” Yelling without raising the volume of his voice, Sterling grumbled as he took three loping strides towards his target, the fourth step falling mid-air as he took flight, rapidly heading east.

Hup, Edgar grunted as he shouldered the weight of the middle-aged bar owner. With his head hanging over the side of the Griffon’s body, Sal watched with mild bemusement as the ground floated away from him.

“So,” he began, as they flew back towards the smattering of twinkling lights dotting the landscape that marked out the frostbitten hamlet of Moore’s Vale.

“Is he always like that?” he could feel sensation coming back into his limbs now, but he didn’t dare to move while he was still atop the Griffon, so he simply laid there, feeling the bitter winds as they went by.

Edgar thought for a bit, flicking his tail and scratching the back of his neck. “Well…” his laborious tone struck a stark contrast with his more typical bombastic manner of speaking. “I think, that- uhh…”

Sal waited for him to finish, one eyebrow raised expectantly.

“In all honesty, Sir” he paused for a moment, “I just think he’s being a bit of a grumble-bum because he doesn’t do too well with people, and he’s probably a mite upset about havin’ to deal with working alongside someone that has such a radically different personality an’ all.”

He blinked at the thoroughness of the response. It was shockingly insightful, if overwhelmingly optimistic and naive.

“But I reckon he’ll warm up to me soon enough!” Edgar went on, and Sal could hear his smile even though he couldn’t see his face.

Sal sighed. “Well, best of luck to ya, kid.” He wasn’t going to be holding his breath.

3. Probably Should Have Hit Her, Dude

Just outside, a half dead lamp flickered pathetically. It was miraculous that the thing still functioned, pulsing out at a pretty impressive intensity for such old technology. It probably ran on some long forgotten enchantment, one that had long outlived its creator.

The main door creaked heavily, groaning as it opened. Anypony inside surely would have noticed the noise, or the sudden sliver of blue light that shifted into a full-blown cascade of illumination, but the only inhabitants at the moment were a few stray spiders. The barn’s furnishings were spartan to say the least. Off to one side, an unfinished game of poker was scattered across a bench surrounded by overturned milk-crates and crude, rustic stools.

Beatrix spotted a bookshelf and couldn’t stop herself from running over to check the spines. Most of them were old books; even the most recent of them was still an antiquity of the Pre-Death era. She scooped a couple into her saddlebag. It wasn’t going to hurt anybody if she went home with a few more books than she had bargained for.

But she quickly regained focus. Her money, and the specific tome she was looking for, were both still unaccounted for. She noted that the back door was open as she passed by.

It was unbearably clear that there was a secret room somewhere in the barn.

There was undoubtedly some clever mechanism, some hidden stairwell that led downwards to the real hideout. Something suitably cliché, totally lacking in practicality or convenience.

Bea considered the room briefly before sighing.

Her horn shone brightly, and the dry air crackled with raw energy.

She closed her eyes, focusing on visualising the rapid turning of the yellowed pages in a slim, blue, leather-bound book that had a vibrant red page marker.

She came to the page she was looking for.

Her eyes flickered open, and then she sank into the floor, and through the ground.

Clover's Compendium of Cantrips - Chapter 6, page 57; Enchantments and Alterations - Minor Intangibility

A few seconds after the top of her mane disappeared completely, the sound of heavy wingbeats approached, and a shadow momentarily blocked the weak lamplight coming into the room.

Sterling burst in through the window above the door.

Landing with a thump, he quickly took stock of the room, ignoring irrelevant details and instead tracking the path his quarry had taken from the doorway, to a bookshelf where she’d clearly stopped for a while, to a random spot in the room where her hoofprints stopped… and then she’d disappeared. Teleported, most likely to a hidden room.

He thundered over to the bookshelf and threw it aside, ignoring the well-worn grooves in the wooden floorboards from where it had been moved about. Naturally, the stairway behind it was dark and appropriately mysterious. Sterling scoffed and shot down the passageway, already planning for the fight that he could feel brewing.

His battleplan would involve punching, he decided. Punching and also kicking. Foolproof.

At the same time, the blue mare he was hunting had already regained tangibility and arrived in the depths of the hideout- which she was becoming increasingly suspicious of.

However, her intuitive distrust of the entire situation was utterly silenced by her simmering frustration. She had managed to get her money back, but she was still no closer to getting her prize- and it was also slowly dawning on her that maybe Sal never had it in the first place.

She shuddered and shook as her anger welled up within her.

A few rooms away, Sterling was also growing increasingly weary of the whole ordeal. The subterranean corridors and rooms were far too small for him to safely fly in, and he had absolutely no idea where he was headed- all he had to go off was her vocalised frustrations, grumbling and ranting and cursing that only seemed to get louder as he went deeper into the bunker.

But, there were only a few rooms, and it wasn’t long before he finally caught sight of her.

Springing off his hind legs, he flared his wings outwards as soon as the room opened up, adding extra force to his strike with a powerful flap. His hoof was just about to connect with the back of her head when she turned around.

Shit- coming up short, he performed a small airbrake to lessen the impact and prayed he wouldn’t hit her too hard. He couldn’t, in good conscience, suckerpunch a mare as hard as he could.

Time seemed to slow down until it froze. She looked startled, but only for a little bit, and her facial expression quickly returned to a mostly neutral scowl. Hold on, what? She had somehow managed to catch him and totally freeze him in a field of magic in the split second before he hit her.

That was seriously impressive.

His insides finally caught up with the rest of his body and he tasted a mixture of bile and blood. He had essentially just launched himself at a brick wall.

Bea ignored him and kept searching about the place, which he now observed was some kind of communal space- a living room, with a kitchen tucked off to the side.

Telekinesis is essentially impossible to physically resist once your opponent has time to act, and Sterling was pretty much just a regular Pegasus, which is why Beatrix was genuinely shocked when she heard him hit the ground.

The book was not here. She was angry- she had been all night . And here was a stallion who did not know how to quit, nor did he understand that he was supposed to be powerless in this situation. Everything was starting to get to her, and she had reached her limit. Bea blew up.

So did the kitchen. And also pretty much everything else for that matter.

The earth around the barn surged upwards through the initial blast and then came back down, the barn and the hideout and the night sky all merging into one as the entire building turned into a crater. Even with a force-field and magical fortifications on her body, Bea still got hit hard- bits of roofing slipped through her magic, leaving nasty bumps and sore spots that would definitely bloom into bruises over time. A substantial amount of wood splintered off one the beams, stabbing her deeply in the flank before it snapped off.

When the rubble settled, she dug herself out and limped off.

He did not.

4. Keep Rollin' Rollin' Rollin'

“Ow.” Every step she took hurt.

Wizened trees point crooked fingers at the sky, their lower branches grabbing at her. Far off, a crow calls, and the fading glow of the distant beacons left the landscape in a near total darkness. It was hard to keep track of the time if you weren’t at a major hub like a city, and even then, it helped to have a timepiece- but Beatrix knew that she had definitely missed the last train home.

She kept walking.

Tripping over a fallen branch here and there, or stumbling on bits of uneven ground that were hidden under leaves and the cover of the ever-darkness. “Agh. That was so stupid!”

The woods grew darker and denser, the trees she passed by were getting older, and soon she was in the forest proper. Her coat was covered in mud and sticks, and her right flank was matted with blood where part of the barn’s roof had collapsed on her. Even with all the magical work applied to her body, the outburst, even though it had felt so good at first, had hurt her badly- in more ways than one.

She thought of the Pegasus stallion that had been hunting her. How surprised he looked- first when she stopped him mid-air, and second, just before he was thrown across the room like a ragdoll, wetly sticking to the wall, only to slide down it and collapse in a heap of wrong angles and broken parts.

A sensation of wetness hit her cheeks, and by the time the second tear rolled down, she was running as fast as she was able to on her bad leg. A snaking tree root caught her in the right fetlock, and when she fell she made no attempt to stop her muzzle from ploughing into the dirt, quickly stumbling back to her feet.

When a sharp rock stabbed into the frog of her left hoof, she screamed, but only began running even faster. A deep, hollow reservoir within her was being filled up to the brim with an inescapable chill that threatened to freeze her from the inside out.

The ground sloped away, stable floor turning into a steep hillside in a matter of seconds and just a few steps. And over the edge, she plunged blindly.

Spinning and screaming, hitting the ground over and over so hard that she was scarcely falling so much as she was skipping like a stone on water. The tears streamed freely as pain positioned itself to totally overwhelm everything else. Sticks and shrubs scratched her skin, pulled at her mane and her tail; the decrease in speed from when she hit them was only enough to make it hurt just that much more when she came back down on the loose dirt and rocks.

She was still bouncing when she hit flat ground again, and would probably have kept rolling if it weren’t for the massive tree she collided with. She felt her ribcage closing up as her chest struck the bark heavily, and all she could do was weakly cough, whimpering to herself.

Bruised, bleeding and emotionally exhausted, she closed her eyes and cried softly into unconsciousness, weakly blubbering “I’m sorry” over and over.

~~~

Naturally, it was still dark when she awoke.

She let herself lay there a little longer, wallowing in the pain and misery of it all, before she gathered herself and stood. As much as everything had hurt, she could still mostly walk, albeit at a slow, uneven pace.

The part of the forest she found herself in was unusually well lit- it was about the same brightness as the average suntorch you’d find in a small town, or in the outskirts of one of the cities.

A pale, almost ghostly light shone down through the canopy, bathed her body and all of a sudden, she felt so very serene.

The stallion she’d accidentally killed earlier- his name had been Sterling, hadn’t it?

Sniffling, she started to make a small mound of dirt where the light struck the ground, scrabbling at the earth with her bare hooves. Soon she shucked her saddlebags and cloak, both of which were torn and battered, and left them by the base of the tree that she had been wrapped around throughout her sleep.

Soon she had found enough branches to make a decent headstone, and some kind of plant that was rope-like enough to hold it together with the assistance of the dirt foundation.

She stood there for a while, looking at the grave with a small smile. Her eyes stung. “May you find peace,” she uttered, biting her lip as she was about to break down again.

“With the conclusion of your trials.
Should you reach your eternity
Look down on me and smile”
They were the only Pegasus funeral rites she knew, and she could barely carry them out properly here, but he deserved that much.

She cried properly for him this time.

The light shone even brighter, and she knew she was safe in its embrace.

~~~

When she was done mourning the stallion she hadn’t known; the one she’d blindly murdered in a foalish fit of rage, she’d donned her cloak and saddlebags once again. She knew it was hardly enough, but she also knew there was no sense in fretting over things that one could do nothing about. For now, it would suffice.

Now, far more composed than earlier, she was laser-focused on where she was. This part of the forest was totally alien to her in a multitude of ways, and the utter silence combined with the inexplicable glow that continued to shine down on her created an ethereal atmosphere.

Where was that light coming from?

She was recovering more by the moment, but she was still in no shape to go climbing any trees, and she couldn’t think of any better option that simply trying to follow the beams through trial and error.

When she spun in a slow circle, her eyes landed on another patch of forest floor that was lit from seemingly nowhere. As she looked further along the “path” that was being set out for her, she could see a trail of these little patches- almost like a string of spotlights. Somepony wanted her to go somewhere, and while she would usually be more cautious about mysterious lights deep in a strange forest, she somehow knew that no harm could come to her here.

After a few minutes of following the trail of lights, Bea swore she could hear music floating through the twisting limbs of the black trees. The towering pillars that comprised the forest had lost all intimidating qualities, and now she could only see them as proud sentinels, guarding something lost to time. She didn’t need to apply any of her botanical knowledge nor her magic to tell that everything that grew here was hundreds of years old.

It was like singing, and… perhaps a harp? The phantom of the song faded in and out, and it only grew louder, or at least clearer, even as it continued to fluctuate.

Finally, the trail stopped. She had reached her destination, apparently.

It was like something out of a fairy tale. A beautiful old house, deep in the darkest part of the forest, complete with its own ghostly music and lighting. The outside walls were painted a very pale cream, and dark wooden beams framed the walls, with a cobblestone trim running around the bottom. A gothic window with a diamond pattern provided the only view inside from where she was, but the interior was still bathed with darkness. She strode up to the arched door, and pushed on the wood. It swung open with a sigh.

As she stepped inside, her horn lit up with a simple illumination spell, and she took off her cloak and saddlebags again, hanging them on a hook by the door.

It had very obviously not been lived in for a long time. While the rooms here definitely still warranted investigation, they were clearly not the source of the mysterious light. She crept up the stairs softly, soothed by each creak of the floorboards and the smooth feeling of the wooden bannister under her hoof.

This place felt like a home- even though she had been here for mere minutes, most of which had been spent outside, marvelling at the structure’s exterior, she was already incredibly comfortable.

The upstairs was similarly adorned with rustic furniture with a slight touch of gothic design, and a few exotic oddities. The main hall up here was carpeted by a rug that looked Saddle Arabian, and there were more curiosities placed thoughtfully upon the narrow hall table. As Bea walked by, she caught a glimpse of herself in a mirror on the wall. She looked half-dead.

Despite all the doors on either side of the hall, she instinctively knew that none of them were the one she was looking for. At each end of the hall, there was a door, and it was obvious that it was one of the two. Picking at random, she strode towards the black one with a golden handle, the one closest to her.

As she reached for the doorknob, a wave of incredible pain wracked her body- not physical pain, but a general malaise of suffering and confusion, a horrific feeling that she was only experiencing empathy for- and that alone was enough to make her jump back, shuddering. How could one person be lost in that much misery?

It didn’t matter whether or not that was where all her answers lay- she didn’t have it in her to try and open the door again. She turned and assessed the other side of the hall. A white door, with a silver handle. Walking back past the mirror and table, she crossed over the halfway point, taking note of the long empty planter box against the wall, and then doing a double take as she spotted the miniature library set into the wall across from it. Two well-stocked bookshelves flanked a cushioned bench with plenty of room to lie down on, and a small coffee table perfect for holding a warm drink, a meal or more books. Despite the inherent grandeur of such an impressive feature, the entire thing was shockingly minimalistic compared to the way the other side had been styled. It was clear that there were two very different ponies that had lived.

She finally stood at the door. Tentatively, she reached out her hoof, anticipating an onset of similarly terrible feelings. Eyes scrunched up, her hoof made contact with the handle, and she breathed a sigh of relief. It sounded for all the world like somepony was gently laughing at her, and she huffed as she pushed the door open with a click. “Shut up.”

This only seemed to make the auditory hallucination laugh harder. Whatever. She didn’t care.

The room in front of her was unexpected, and while there was a lot to look at, her attention immediately jumped to the four-poster bed, and the blackened diadem that lay atop the covers.

The ethereal giggling suddenly became more grounded somehow, and it was now undeniable that someone was laughing. And then she heard the voice, deep and luxuriant, yet fragile, “Sorry, sorry!” the laughter slowly petered out, and she began talking again, although Beatrix couldn’t for the life of her figure out where from. “Oh! but ‘tis been so long since we have been visited- and your face! Ahh, no, no… I shouldn’t be so cruel as to laugh at a guest.”

Finally, Bea looked over her shoulder only to find that the source of the disembodied voice was standing right over her shoulder. A tall mare, with a deep purple coat and a flowing black mane- her horn, long and thin, swirled into a slightly curved point, and her wings, while they were folded by her sides, could still clearly take up half the room, and her smile could easily fill the rest of the space.

Beatrix Lulamoon blushed, hard. A beautiful, semi-translucent princess stood before her, and they just stared at each other- for what must have been far too long to have been comfortable- before the intangible mare spoke again, “Please, do have a seat. You look like you’ve been through a lot to.”

Bea nearly passed out. It was all too much for her to take in.

And what the heck was a ‘today’?

5. Can You Tell I've Been Reading Way Too Much Fluff?

“Perhaps we should go downstairs? I could fix you a cup of tea-” the apparition paused, making a show of inspecting Bea as she circled around her, “You look like you could really use one.” Under her breath, she added “A shower wouldn’t hurt either.” Adorably, she pretended to crumple her nose up at the supposed smell emanating from her guest.

Going red, Bea was suddenly reminded of how terrible she looked. Even ignoring her scars, and the more recent cuts and bruises, her coat was horrifically dirty, covered with muck and detritus from the forest floor.

Her host- a princess no less, looked at her quizzically. She was far too cute for her own good. Abashed, Beatrix looked down, murmuring- half to herself, “A shower would be nice…”

The princess laughed, bubbly and beautiful and elegant, and Beatrix, battered as she was, did not have enough energy to deal with how hard she was crushing on the magical princess.

“Unfortunately, as you may have gathered, I’m not actually here.”

Bea’s heart sank. It had been too good to be true. She’d totally lost it, and now even the hallucination was calling her out on it. With a sigh, she plopped down on her hindquarters.

“So, basically, my movement is a little limited right now.” She smiled sweetly and tapped restlessly at the floor with a hoof while she spoke, “And thus, I can’t get you that tea. Unless you take my crown downstairs. To the kitchen.”

Bea gave her a deadpan look, and the Alicorn looked at her expectantly.

“I guess, you could say I’m tethered to it? Sort of.”

Sighing, the unicorn stood. “Ok.” She grabbed the crown from where it lay on the bed and began to make her way out into the hallway. “Sure. Why not.”

The princess floated along beside her. Despite her smile, her expression was unreadable. “I am Luna,” She paused, concentration furrowing her brow. “By the way.”

“And I’m pretty sure I hit my head too hard earlier.”

She frowned at that, and Bea couldn’t help but snort a little as a proper laugh threatened to force itself out. Sure, she was here in a magic house, in a part of the forest that hadn’t existed yesterday, talking to a magic ghost princess that lived inside a crown.

“It’s a diadem by the way. Not a crown.” Bea felt the need to correct this mare, magical ghostly... princess-ness, be damned.

Luna stared at her in casual disbelief, a single eyebrow raised. When Bea caught her look, she quickly turned away in a huff. “Whatever. I just thought that you should like, know that.” Laughter again. Guh.

They came to the bottom of the stairs and turned right, passing through what must have been the living room as they went into the kitchen. Dumping the diadem on the nearest countertop, Bea turned to Luna and quickly checked she was still there.

She was.

“Do you even have any food here? I mean… y’know. What with the whole, ghost thing?”

Luna scoffed. “I’m not a ghost, kid.”

For a moment, they were stuck in a standoff, staring at each other. It probably seemed like they were having a bit of an intense moment to Luna, but for Bea it was dominated by the delayed realisation that the age gap between her and the mare she had been pretty shamelessly checking out, was almost certainly far too large to be anything other than weird and gross.

I mean, she’s an Alicorn, Bea chided herself- of course she’s going to be friggin’ ancient.

The ethereal royal just looked at her. “Alright. How about you go have that shower; I’ll make you something to eat in the meantime, and then we can have a talk about a few things.”

Bea stood there for a few moments longer, pointedly glaring at Luna who cocked her head and blinked at her.

The realisation hit her “Oh! Right. You can use the guest bathroom, it’s the third door to the left upstairs, towards my side of the hall.”

Nodding, Bea hurriedly walked up the stairs two at a time and quickly shut the door behind her when she got in, desperate to hide the blood rushing to her face. Magical ghost girl, inviting her to use her magical shower in her stupid magical house.

The water was warm, and she could feel it soaking into her bones. Muck and blood swirled around the drain, rust-coloured reminders of what she’d endured recently. As she watched the dirt disappear, she became aware of a stinging on her flank. Any adrenaline she’d had remaining in her system had well and truly been flushed out by the shower, and her enchantments could only do so much to stem the oncoming flood of pain- the injury itself wasn’t so bad, but the impending sense of immobility was blindingly agonising. Collapsing to the tiled floor, she couldn’t stifle a yelp.

Downstairs, just out of her current range of hearing, there was a clatter of metal.

It had been so long since she had rested properly- at least three full clocks’ worth, and she was so weary and so very sore.

Luna was talking- saying something to her in worried tones, but she was too far away to hear.

~~~

As the hot water ran out, the gradual shift in temperature barely registered until the torrent of droplets was almost freezing. It only took a second or two for Bea to regain consciousness, and with a squeal, she rolled out of the way.

Miserable and soaked, she looked up at the tap and turned it off with her magic, a low groan emanating from her throat.

She couldn’t stand, so she propped herself up on the toilet and tried to balance herself on three legs. Wrapping a pale pink towel in a wreath of teal magic, she began to dry herself off, wincing every time she rubbed abrasively at any sore spots, which may as well have made up the majority of her body at the moment.

The house was silent, save for the creak of floorboards under her hooves and the timid groans coming in waves as the building expanded and contracted. The floor swayed under her three good hooves, and it felt like she was out at sea again.

Passing through the foyer, she trudged over the carpet in the living room, stopping briefly to take note of the dying embers twinkling in the fireplace; the slightly kitschy couches arranged around an otherwise tasteful room; the expansive shelving, cluttered with books and miscellaneous bric-a-brac; the honest smell of pine mixing with the rosy aroma of a scented candle.

It felt like home.

Shit. Mum had to be getting worried by now. She hadn’t planned on being away for this long, and she certainly hadn’t mentioned what she was doing.

Time to move on.

Reaching the dining room, she observed the mug on the table. It was stone cold when she picked it up, and she set it down again, ignoring the coaster. Next she wandered into the kitchen, where it looked like a roving band of slapstick comedians had tried- unsuccessfully- to bake a cake of some description, multiple failed attempts laying stacked in the sink.

At some point, Luna’s diadem had fallen off the counter-top, and there was no sign of the princess herself.

When she picked it up, it remained inert.

~~~

She was genuinely shocked by how well-stocked the kitchen was. After having made herself a new cup of tea, she had settled down on one of the couches with one of her books, the fire blazing in the background.

It was difficult to focus on the words with everything that happened, and she soon became aware of the presence standing behind her.

“Hey.”

“Sup?”

Luna timidly moseyed down the other end of the couch, rolled herself over the back and into a sitting position. It was kind of hilarious to watch her acting like a teen when she had been trying so hard to put on an air of formality earlier. Bea snickered at her antics.

Eyeing the mug on the table, Luna leant forward, briefly levitating it so she could slide a coaster underneath it before setting the mug down carefully so as not to disturb the last bits of her tea.

“Are you…”

“Alright? Yeah, just had a bit of a fall. Then I conked out for a bit.”

“Oh. Ok. I was worried about you, Beatrix.” Her voice wavered a bit.

Shooting the mare a confused look, the words came out a little quicker than she’d liked- “When’d I tell you my name?”

“It was sewn into the hem of your cloak.” Although her tone didn’t change at all, it was clear by her face that she’d interpreted it as an accusation.

“Oh. Sorry.”

There was a moment of silence, and Bea went to turn the page of her book. The crispness of the sound when the page flipped completely filled the room.

“So…” Luna began, and Bea became horribly aware that the princess had been staring at her from the other end of the couch the whole time.

As smoothly as possible, she tried to get up out of her relaxed slouch, and into a bit more of a dignified position. As she finished her scramble, she nodded her head at the offering, trying to play it cool.

“So?” She dropped her book.

Nailed it.

“Um- Well…” Luna, bless her, was trying to ignore how much of a mess she was right now. “Ah!” She exclaimed, lightbulb clearly visible above her head. “What is it that you are reading?” she continued, obviously proud of herself for having completed one the most basic sentences possible.

She leaned in, as if imparting a secret- the proximity made Bea’s stomach flutter. “You know, I’ve read all the books in this house, but I don’t recognise this one.” Great, she was a grade-A nerd, too. To complete the effect, Luna conjured a pair of reading glasses out of nowhere as she picked the book up from where it had fallen.

“It’s one of mine. I like to read whenever I’m travelling.”

“Waterfalls” Luna read aloud.

“Yeah, it's about-” Bea cut herself off, realising that actually; maybe it wouldn't give the best impression if she explained what the book was about. “Look, forget that for now, alright?” Luna's disappointment showed, but she nodded regardless “Anywyas, about earlier…” Bea started, but trailed off as she saw the look Luna gave her. “What?”

Luna giddily clapped her hooves “Did you just say… ‘anywyas’? Wh-”

“NO I DID NOT.” The words came out strangled, and she turned, already blushing. Her coat would be permanently purple by the time she left this damned house. Gosh, Luna was pretty.

Desperate to change the topic, Bea remembered what they’d been talking about before her impromptu shower nap. “Look, can we talk?”

6. Komm, Süsser Schlaf

They’d moved from the lounge and into the dining room to sit at the table. Luna was restlessly twirling a pen with her magic, and Bea’s aching desire to get some sleep in a proper bed was only barely beat out by her curiosity.

“Ok, I’ll go first.” Bea mumbled, lethargically rolling the words around her mouth. “How old are you? Being a princess and all, you’ve probably been around a while.”

She studied the room, picking out details in the grain of the woodwork, the way the treated stone floor came together- the silence didn’t quite reach her at first, but when it did, it hit hard. She looked up at the mare across from her. Luna’s face had gone stony, and Bea realised she might as well have hit her. “Actually- scratch that. Tell me about where you ruled; your subjects; your domain.”

All princesses have a domain- something more than just a kingdom or subjects to rule over; an Alicorn’s role was to maintain balance over their domain, and everyone affected by it.

At this, Luna’s eyes lit up, and a fog visibly lifted from her mind. “I was the Princess of The Night.” Bea put her hoof up, and Luna mock sighed. “Yes, Ms. Lulamoon?”

“What do you mean by ‘of The Night?’”

Luna looked at her strangely. “Ok, fine then. Princess of the Moon.” She received another blank look and threw her hooves up in exasperation. “Dreams! I’m the Princess of Dreams! Does that work for you?”

“Oh, ok. Yeah, alright, that’s pretty neat.”

The Dream Princess quickly overcame her frustration and smiled at her. “Yes, I thought so too. Quite neat indeed. Anywyas-”

“SHUTUP.”

“That was before I ended up stuck here.” Even as she jokingly pulled an exaggerated face to put emphasis on her plight, Bea was raising a hoof to stop her- Luna sighed and motioned for her to go ahead.

“Oh yeah! Earlier you said you’re not a ghost, but like, y’know… it seems like you’re playing by ghost rules.” This got a laugh out of Luna, but she quickly recovered.

She playfully waved off Bea with a hoof, “Hush, I still haven’t finished answering your first question- and besides: I get to ask the next question. Those are the rules.”

“I don’t like these rules.” Although Bea whispered, Luna clearly still heard her, as evidenced by the grin that broke out on her face. Regaining her composure, she continued from where she had been interrupted.

“Before retirement was prematurely forced upon me, I ruled over Canterlot, and by extension, the rest of Equestria, as well as the Crown Equestrian Territories.”

Bea blinked. That didn’t quite make sense to her.

“I thought that was like, the uhh- 'Sun' princess's whole thing?” She interjected carefully, not wanting to push any buttons. Royals tended to be a little sensitive when it came to questioning their power. At least that’s how they were in the stories she’d read. Although, now that she thought about it, those particular works had not been accurate to Luna at all.

Luna was totally unphased by Bea’s internal monologue. “My sister? Well I-

“YOUR SISTER?”

“Yes. We technically ruled together, but if we're talking candidly, in honesty I let her do most of the ‘princess’ work- I was happy to administer my domain and work on things behind the scenes.”

Bea’s brain was struggling with this information.

“Your sister?” She squeaked out.

“Ok.” Luna crossed her hooves. “It’s definitely my turn now.” She considered the decidedly odd unicorn sitting across from her, and tapped her chin thoughtfully. What to ask?

“What exactly is it that you do for a living?” Luna placed a hoof on top of the table, switching into interrogation mode. Timidly, Bea raised her own hoof, already working on developing a believable ruse. Luna cut her off by slamming her other hoof down next to the first.

“How do you end up in my forest, on the verge of death-” Bea tried to stop her again, but it appeared that Luna was no longer accepting interruptions. “Why is it that the first thing you did when you regained consciousness was to HOLD A FUNERAL FOR A PEGASUS?” Bea cringed; Luna was really building up steam now and her stream of questions was providing the fuel for some pretty heavy introspection on Bea’s part. What the hell was her life.

“Why do you have so many scars, and why do some of them look intentional? Why don’t you know what the moon is? Or the concept of night and day?” Luna panted, her outburst stopping for a moment. She saw Bea moving to answer, and spoke between heavy breaths; “I’m not done yet.”

“Yeah, actually; you are. That was like, five questions. Totally unfair.” Bea boredly pretended to check her hoof for dirt, until Luna finally took a moment to breathe. “But I’m generous, so I’ll give you some answers. Only short ones though.” At the look Luna gave her, she clarified in a cool tone, as if speaking to a foal “To balance things out.”

She was decided. She was gonna tell the truth. Mostly.

“First of all- ‘your’ forest? Yeesh.”

Luna countered pointedly, peering at Bea over her librarian’s glasses. “Technically, I used to own the majority of Equestria.”

Bea smiled sweetly. “Operating word is ‘used to’, sister.”

“That’s two words.” Luna responded, still continuing to peer at her.

“Pfft. AnyWAYS.” Despite the emphasis she put upon avoiding the oratory stumble, the princess giggled at her again. Bea shook her head indignantly, but in truth she didn't really mind that much. At least she got to hear Luna’s laugh.

“I guess you could say I’m a Witch. Mainly I provide aid to people, whether that entails actual medical treatment, or simply helping them with various things in their daily lives.” She took a moment to make sure Luna was paying attention. She was enraptured, only taking her eyes off Bea to scribble things down in her notes.

“It usually ends up being a quid pro quo kind of relationship, which is all well and good, but I can’t reliably support myself on that alone, so I also do a little work as a merc.” Bea grabs her glass of water, takes a gulp, and sets it down- intentionally missing the coaster. It only stays on the bare tabletop for a moment once Luna notices and snatches it up.

“Which is kinda of the reason I ended up here. In ‘your’ forest. I was trying to buy a certain book off this guy- a bit of a sleazeball, but he’s usually a good fixer. Usually.” Catching Luna’s gaze, she interrupted herself- “A fixer is somepony wh-“

“I know what a fixer does.” Luna responded coyly, a little smile pulling up the corners of her mouth.

Huh. Bea thought to herself. That was a little bit spooky, but also very cool.

“Right. So, he scammed me, and tried to sell me out to the cops.” She facehoofed, having forgotten a pretty glaring detail. “Oh yeah- also I’m kind of a wanted criminal? It’s complicated.”

“Complicated? I would expect nothing less from you. You seem a very interesting mare, Beatrix.”

“Sure. Whatever.” Despite her bluster, she was actually pretty chuffed at the indirect compliment. Or maybe it was a subtle dig at her? It didn’t really matter what the intent was, she was taking it as a compliment.

“As I was saying; I kinda knew he was trying to pull a fast one on me, but for some reason I decided that I was gonna have faith in the goodness of other ponies’ hearts. I beat up his goons, but then the EEF showed up. They chased me through the woods behind Moore’s Vale, and then we ended up at where Sal- the guy I was making the deal with- had stashed my money, and the book.”

Luna nodded, clearly waiting for her to go on. Beatrix wet her lips, and cleared her throat before going on with a shaky voice. “He, uhh, had my money… but it became apparent that he’d never had the book in the first place. And then one of the stallions that were tailing me showed up. And I-“ Her voice broke.

Luna reached across the table and put a hoof on her shoulder to console her. Bea was shocked to find that she was solid, despite her translucent appearance. Emboldened and surprised by the contact, she continued.

“I- I killed him. I wasn’t careful enough and I got angry and forgot to control my magic and he died and it was MY fault!” The tears streamed down Bea’s face freely as Luna came round the table to hold held her, gently shushing her all the while.

Bea felt something heavy- the crown- land on her head, and felt herself being picked up. Luna kept speaking, but yet again, she was far, far away, and only getting further as sleep sunk its hooks into her. Succumbing to unconsciousness, she dreamt of princesses and the castles they lived in.

7. Do You Like Pancakes?

“Somethin’ ain’t right.” Edgar checked the time again. A full run of the clock had gone by, and there was still no word from Sterling.

The clerk eyed him warily. “GAH! Consarnit!” He swung his fist wildly at the wall in an attempt to vent his frustrations- only managing to create a hefty dent with the imprint of his hand. “Shit!”

Nobody tried to stop him as he stormed outside, a long groan coming from the clerk was the only sign that he’d been noticed at all.

In summation; the EEF branch office had been far from helpful.

“Something ain’t right!”

At first they had told him to just wait- his partner would either show up, or he’d be assigned a new one- the mare behind the desk had lazily chewed on the end of a pencil as she’d told him to ‘enjoy the time off work’.

Then he’d asked her to at least make a note of it, for the sake of good record-keeping. She’d begrudgingly humoured his request, until he dropped Sterling’s name.

“Oh.” She had said flatly.

“Oh? Whaddya mean, ‘Oh.’?” His optimism got the better of him. Maybe Sterling was fine, but the chase had led him so far away that it made more sense for him to debrief at a different office.

She lowered her voice before continuing. “It’s probably for the best you just wait for a new partner and don’t look back.”

The words still swam around his head now as he paced about on the street. Someone had yelled about the noise made by the clack of his talons on the cobblestone, and he’d yelled back at them.

He wasn’t giving up on Sterling.

~~~

“And so then I said to her; No, you have chicken mouth!” Warm laughter greeted Edgar as he cautiously opened the door and stepped into the bar. He would have liked to have made a grander entrance, but considering what had happened last time, he figured he’d play it safe.

“Oh, hey kid. What’s shakin’?” Sal was polishing a tankard with a well-worn rag as he waved him over. “Sterling showed his sorry mug yet?” Edgar curtly shook his head, and as Sal registered the concern on his face, the greasy stallion laughed, throwing his head back.

Wiping a tear from his eye, he reached out with a hoof and clapped Edgar on the shoulder. “I wouldn’t worry yourself about him, if I were you, I’d be far more concerned about anyone that gets in between him and completing his mission.” He shook his head, slapping the mug down on the bar’s surface. “Silly bastard dun’ know how to die.”

Edgar was only half listening. Again, more vague answers that only served to confuse him. How could he just pretend that nothing had happened? It was unthinkable.

As Sal poured him a pint, Edgar’s brow knit in concentration. “By the way- where’d you send him?” He tried to play it cool, like one of the desperado cowboys from the thin paperback that he’d picked up at a quaint little book shop a few towns back. He was being so cool.

While Edgar downed the drink, Sal explained how to get to his ‘hideout’, with a warning that he probably wouldn’t find much there, but that he still wasn’t going to stop him from going to check.

“How much do I owe ya?” Edgar had to bite his tongue to stop himself from chucking a ‘pardner’ on the end of his sentence.

“Eh, don’t worry about it. You already helped me with fixin’ up the door, which is more than most would do.” As Sal walked him to the exit, he surreptitiously added “Besides, you’re probably gonna need it. G’luck out there.”

And with that ominous suggestion spurring him onward, Edgar took wing.

~~~

Bea was wrapped in a cocoon of some kind. Soft, luxurious and altogether suffocating, she kicked out at the material ensconcing her, wildly flailing with all her limbs. A spike of pain juddered up her bad leg and she swore, knocking the bedside table as she threw off the sheets.

Luna blinked into existence and subsequently tumbled over as her crown hit the floor after rolling off the recently disturbed table. Bea, semi-upright amidst the covers of the bed, tried to act as if she was poised for action. Luna righted herself and rubbed her eyes blearily, yawning as she spoke. “Is it morning yet?”

“I don’t know what that means!” Bea growled, before realising just how ridiculous the situation was. Ugh. Memories of what happened earlier came swimming back. She’d cried in front of the princess. Again. So not cool. Not to mention she kept falling asleep- Luna probably thought she was narcoleptic by now.

She put a blue hoof up to her chest, took a deep breath, and pushed the hoof out and away from her body as she exhaled. Regaining her composure as she extricated herself from the bedclothes, she decided that she needed to do something to make it up to the princess.

Remembering how 'well' the alicorn’s attempts at… baking? Had turned out the last time she’d tried to make something for Bea to eat, an idea struck her. “Ok. How about I make us some breakfast.”

Luna looked shocked. “Oh! that won’t rea-”

Bea scooped up the crown and deposited it on her head, which oddly enough, made the sounds of Luna’s protests go silent. Limping towards the hall, she used some basic levitation magic to take some of the weight off her back leg, the wound on which, she noted, had been cleaned and dressed while she’d slept.

“How do you feel about pancakes? Personally, I’m feeling pancakes right now. You?” Luna gathered herself and began to speak but Bea just ignored her.

“Great! Pancakes it is. My mums have a killer recipe. With any luck I can remember it.” Luna just blinked, before cracking a little smile.

Damn, she missed her mum, who was no doubt working herself up into a real tizzy with her daughter being gone so long. With her mom still working abroad, her mum was all alone, and Bea worried just as much as she did.

~~~

Luna made a point of dashing into the dining room first to scoop up her notepad, hastily flipping it shut as Bea walked in. Yikes, her notes must have been harsher than her expression had suggested. “So,” Luna said hurriedly. “No more questions for now?”

Bea paused on her way by, before gently slugging the princess in the shoulder. Oh fuck, why did she just do that? Looking to make a quick recovery, she laughed it off “Haha… I uhh,” She glanced away, looking from the kitchen doorway back to the mare she’d been spending most of her time with recently. Luna didn’t seem to notice her internal panic, and so she calmed down a little. “Look, I guess we could talk about some more things.”

She set about the kitchen, grabbing various utensils and a pan, before looking around for the ingredients to get a mixture going. Where the hell does she keep the flour? “Hey, Luna, could you give me a hoof here?”

Shooting out of her seat, Luna looked around before her eyes settled on Bea, who had adorned herself with an apron she’d found and was currently rifling through the cabinets. “-buh?”

“I’ve managed to find some milk, butter and eggs- not many places you can put those other than the fridge, but I can’t find any sugar or flour.”

“-wuh?”

“Never mind, I found ‘em.” Bea struggled to grab the heavy jars from a high shelf in the pantry, standing on the tips of her hooves. “Seems a bit weird to me, putting them there, but hey! Not my house, I guess.”

“Yeah… I guess.” Luna sounded really out of it.

“So, the scars.” Bea put her elbows up on the countertop as she used her magic to measure out quantities of ingredients behind her. Luna stared at the precision with which she prepared the pancake mix without even looking at it. Bea rolled her head to the side, and then back to the other.

“I’m not gonna bother going through the story behind every single one of them, but the ones that caught your eye were probably the runes, sigils and glyphs. They’re three different schools of thought, but share the same core idea of using certain shapes and signs to evoke certain magic effects.” She said, holding up a hoof for inspection. “I mean, while they're technically scars, it's probably more accurate to call them tattoos.”

The symbols carved into her hoof weren't quite the same as her other scars- just at a glance, Luna could see that the two long marks on either side of her barrel had clearly come from a sharp weapon, or a vicious swipe from a pointed claw- they were obvious streaks of pink amidst the cobalt of her fur- something had attacked her in that case.

For the runes however, it was different. They weren’t glaring imperfections on her body; obvious marks from poorly healed wounds- but there was a difference in the texture and length of her coat there, neatly within carefully scribed characters. There was a definite art to them, even if it was a little brutal for Luna's taste.

“These runes are mostly protective. They bolster my vitality, the structural strength of my body. On the other hoof, the sigils tend to be a bit more applied…” Seeing Luna’s half-open mouth, Bea sighed and nodded, and the alicorn of the night giddily clapped as Bea tapped at a wiggly-looking symbol on her left shoulder, quietly gasping as the gestures Bea made with her hoof in the air froze into icicles.

“Buuut, usually I don’t have much use for them.” At this, Luna pouted.

“You cannot be serious. They seem like they could be invaluable tools for a resourceful fighter!” she countered excitedly slamming her hooves on the countertop.

“Considering that most of my work is treating common ailments, or acting as a midwife, for people who either can’t afford or can’t reach an actual medical centre- it’s not exactly like they have daily applications.” Glimpsing Luna’s disappointed look out of the corner of her eye, she amended her statement. “But I would be lying if I said they were useless.”

“Then there’s the glyphs. To be honest with you, I haven’t quite figured them out yet, so I haven’t played around with them more than once or twice.” Apparently having finished the discussion, she turned and began to pour the completed batter into the pan, turning on the stove with a flick of the hoof.

“Wow.” She turned, and saw that Luna was giving her an almost reverent look.

“Huh? Wassup?”

Luna tucked some of her mane behind an ear. “You’re… actually a little bit awesome.”

Bea was pretty sure her chest just imploded.

The princess continued, “But also, extremely stupid.”

Bea pretended not to hear that part, and simply stood there, relishing the divine pain her body was inflicting upon her… at least until the half-cooked pancake started to bubble, at which point she permitted herself to slip out of her trance just long enough to flip it over.

8. Night On The Town

Beatrix honestly struggled to remember the last time she’d had a friend like Luna. She’d been having such a great time, but it was inevitable that she would have to leave.

She waited for Luna to finish her mouthful of pancakes before starting. “So-” Immediately, she stopped herself and tried again. “Wow, we really need to find a better way to start conversations than just saying ‘so’ and hoping that it goes somewhere.”

“I’m quite fond of it actually” Luna mused, before returning to her plate and continuing to devour yet another pancake. She had started slow, but it was evident that she hadn’t eaten in quite a while, being somewhat incorporeal- although Bea still had no real idea of what Luna was. She definitely wasn’t a ghost, or dead at all in the traditional sense of the word, but she wasn’t quite alive either.

“Ok, regardless…” Breathing in and out, she set a hoof on the table, indicating that she was getting down to business. “I need to get going soon.” Luna’s face fell, and then fell some more as she realised the full implications of what Bea had said. “I do actually have a job, and my mum is probably beside herself with worry.” Bea rolled her eyes in an attempt to underplay her own anxiety, but the wry smile on her face betrayed her true feelings, and even then, it did little to distract from how she continued to fidget nervously with her hooves. Luna didn't notice, too busy eating.

“I underst-” Luna began.

“So I was wondering if you wanted to come with me?”

Luna choked on a bit of food as it went down the wrong way.

~~~

The princess was eager to leave as soon as possible, but Bea insisted on doing the dishes, and generally tidying up around the place before they left. Despite the fact that she was the one who had come up with the idea for them to go together, she wasn’t entirely willing to actually wear the crown, much to Luna’s chagrin, and currently it was stashed in her saddlebags. This meant that Luna was stuck waiting by the door, and it was quickly becoming evident that she wasn’t particularly patient.

“Are you done yet?” She paused in her pacing to call from the bottom of the stairs. “I really don’t mind if you leave the place in a mess.” Luna was aware of how desperate she must have sounded, even if Bea didn’t actually interpret it in that way, and so she resolved to simply sit and wait. This lasted all of 10 seconds, before she was fretting and pacing about again. “Seriously though, Bea; it’s o-”

She stopped herself as Bea appeared at the top of the stairs. “Wow, Princess,” Luna cringed as the athletic unicorn jumped all the way down. She imagined knees crunching and immediately pushed her mind elsewhere. “How long did you say you were stuck here again? I would’ve thought you’d be a little bit more capable of entertaining yourself for a few minutes.”

“Firstly, I didn’t, and secondly…” Luna looked away sheepishly. “I slept for most of the time.” Her gaze immediately shot back to Bea as she started to laugh, pitched yet good-natured. It was difficult to maintain a scornful look. She scoffed- “It’s not like there’s much to do; once I finished going through the library, there was nothing left for me here!”

Bea crept forward with a rascally grin. “Until I showed up?”

“Yes. Until you showed up.” Luna feigned disinterest, and at this, Bea laughed again.

Donning her cloak and fastening her bags, she did a slow turn, taking in the house. The cured wood floor of the foyer, the myriad of clocks adorning the wall that adjoined the stairs. The foreign style that was emulated by the doorless archways of the kitchen and the ochre of the painted dining room walls. It was a lovely home, but until now it had felt empty. And soon it would be empty again.

“Ok then! Let’s get this show on the road!”

Luna groaned. “Why.” She shouldered past Bea and through the opened front door. “Why do you insist on talking like a middle-aged father. It’s inspired, just how tiresome it is.”

Bea didn’t hear her, too busy spacing out.

Luna turned around. “What’s wrong?”

“I dunno, I was just expecting it to be harder.” She shrugged and trotted out after Luna.

Luna froze. “Expecting what to be harder?”

“Y’know, extracting an ethereal, ancient princess from an isolated location deep in a magical forest, where she had been trapped for countless aeons.” Gesticulating wildly with her hooves, it was apparent that she was a little disappointed. “Like- I was thinking there’d at least be some kind of forcefield, or maybe a riddle? I genuinely didn’t think it was going to just work; at least not until a year or two went by.”

“Huh. But why?”

“Dunno, that's just... how it is in the stories, usually.”

They wandered for a while in the forest, going back and forth like this, talking about various hypotheticals and sharing stories. When they passed Sterling’s grave, Luna put her arm around Bea’s shoulder. They couldn’t find any proper flowers, so they left some nettles atop the dirt.

~~~

They had been going for a long time, and while Bea’s heart was pounding and her mouth was dry, Luna was still happily gabbing and strolling along, still excited to be outside.

“Why are you so out of breath? I could probably run another hour.” Luna pranced about in the air above Bea, circling around her head.

“YOU ARE AN APPARITION! Or a projection! Or… something else that’s stupid and unnecessarily complicated! You don’t even have lungs!” Bea countered loudly, startling a family of birds. Her hooves hurt from the hours of walking, and as her stomach groaned, she realised she’d gotten quite hungry. Luna simply nickered in response.

“Oh- actually! Let me quickly try something.” And then she vanished for a moment, leaving Bea alone in the dark.

She stopped, spotting a decently sized rock that looked adequately seat-shaped, and took a momentary break to catch her breath- although if asked, she would have said it was for Luna’s sake; so that it wasn’t disorienting when she popped back into existence. She’d already seen what happened when Luna appeared and was instantaneously impacted by the crown’s physical movement, snapping her out of a state of inertia in a single vomitous motion. Bea had narrowly avoided being showered with the half-digested remains of the princess’ considerably large breakfast.

The scent of pine needles and damp air filled her lungs as she breathed in, and for a moment she just stood there, with her eyes closed. It was a wonderful moment, and she was filled with a sense of peace… and then came that fizzling pop that meant the princess had returned. Bea smiled, and was ready to make a snarky comment when she heard the tone of Luna’s voice.

“Beatrix.” Luna used her full name, and her voice was fraught with panic.

“Where is the Sun?” There were tears on her face, and Bea was reminded of the incredible wave of negativity that had come from the door opposite Luna’s.

“Ah.” She said stupidly, nothing else coming to mind. She had been fearing this conversation. “Nopony… knows?” Bea ventured, uncertain of how to proceed.

Voice wavering, Luna responded. “I see.”

Luna disappeared again.

When it became clear she wasn’t going to be coming back any time soon, Bea opened the right side of her saddlebag and took out a wrapped sandwich. She had no idea how Luna’s pantry kept itself stocked, but she wasn’t going to question a free and infinite supply of food. Maybe one day she’d figure out how to reverse-engineer the spell.

It was still going to be a while before she made it out of the forest, and now she would be doing it alone.

~~~

Edgar stood at the edge of the crater. This was where Sal’s hideaway had been?

“Shit…”

He paced around the scene, trying to make sense of it. If this path led up to here… then this was probably where the door was…

Before making his way over, he’d gone to the library and looked at the specifics for the property. Technically, it belonged to the Crown, but in reality, it had been almost a century since anypony from the Solar Court had ventured out here, so squatters running legally grey operations had free rein over how the location was used.

That being said- it seemed that, aside from the most recent visitors, it was unlikely that anyone had been here in a long time.

It was obvious that nothing could have survived the blast at point blank, but if it- if he, somehow had, then there were only a few places he could have gone. He had either stayed where he was, come up and out of the wreckage, or he’d gone deeper down.

As he landed in a pile of detritus and crumbled bricks, a cascade of loose rubble ran down the sloped ground. The entire thing was unstable, and he’d have to be careful if he wanted to get any information out of the less-than-ideal crime scene.

Taking wing, he flapped back over to where he’d left his bags, before returning with a spool of caution tape and some metal stakes. With the perimeter established, he was ready to get to work.

For an explosion of this scale, he was looking for some scorch marks to show him where the epicentre had been. Due to the lack of fire damage to the general area, it was safe to assume that the blast had been primarily kinetic, or at least that the majority of the damage had been done via a compression effect. This, combined with the involvement of the Witch, made it pretty obvious that it had been a mana-based explosion; namely a sudden release of magic energy.

He came to an area that was particularly destroyed. Tossing aside the remains of a hefty wooden beam and scrabbling through some large chunks of various building materials. Bricks, concrete; mortar and rebar; it was also clear that the underground structure had a completely different composition than the humble wooden barn that had been above.

There it was.

Black marks, burnt into the very stone itself. He whistled lowly, although the gesture was hollow. Of course she was going to be powerful, but still… it seemed a little bit ridiculous for the EEF to be sending fairly normal infantry after such a formidable foe. Surely Canterlot could spare one or two unicorns to engage Witches on a more even playing field? He’d done some reading on the Witch Hunting wing of the Equestrian Expeditionary Force, and it seemed to have an exorbitantly high fatality rate. No wonder Sterling was so morose. Edgar wondered how many partners and colleagues he’d lost.

After spending another twenty minutes or so digging through the wreckage of what he’d discovered was once a kitchen, he’d found the blood, browning as it oxidised. It trailed down a wall and onto the floor and then-

It was as he’d feared.

Peering down into the darkness, Edgar sighed.

Sterling had clearly been hit by something- probably the blast, but he’d managed to escape the killing blow of the falling rubble, by falling deeper; into the Darmste caverns. If the fall hadn’t killed him, there were definitely plenty of things down there, willing to finish the job.

“Shit.”

~~~

The woods thinned out. Civilisation beckoned. Luna’s absence was saddening, but Bea could deal with it, and she knew the alicorn needed some time to think. So did she. How was Luna going to integrate into the world at all? She seemed kind of important, like; the Solar Court would probably want to know that their leader’s sister was alive- or that she actually existed in the first place.

The lights were on in the first house she passed, so it had to still be early-ish. Definitely before Last-Light, so there would be plenty of time for her to find somewhere to sleep, something to eat and a train ticket for the next cycle.

Passing by the scattering of ramshackle huts and cosy-looking, albeit rather modest cottages, Bea pondered the responsibilities that she’d shirked- first for her ill-fated deal with Sal, and again for her time with Luna. It’d been at least a full week. Had her mum been watering her garden while she was away? Was little Patchy Meadows, the filly who’d had a hacking cough, still waiting for a post-recovery check-up? Oh, Sun above! What if Wild Bristle had gone into labour early? Would she be able to deliver safely?

As Bea rushed into the town proper, she searched for a newsagent. She’d been away for around two cycles before she’d had to flee Sal’s bar, and then she’d slept at least two- no three times since. A full week.

Pushing through a dust-caked glass door, she wiped a line of sweat off her brow. At this point she was only trying to confirm her own failure. The guy behind the counter glanced up at her briefly with disinterest, before looking back down at his crossword. “Can I help you?” he offered gruffly, clearly unphased by her appearance.

“No, thank y-” she caught sight of the date. That can’t be right, can it? Folding the paper over, she slapped it down on his counter. “Is this the right date?” He levelled a weary look at her, and held it for a moment. Then his eyes shifted down to the page.

“Reckon’ so.” He answered glibly, and pushed the paper back across the surface, hoping to be done with this particular conversation soon.

“What the fuck.” She stared at it some more.

“S’not my fault, so don’t get all uppity with me, missy.” not even bothering to look up.

In all that time, she’d only been gone for a total of a little more than three cycles. Did Luna’s house- no, the entire forest, having some kind of time dilating effect? She’d managed to finish her book while she was there- but she’d barely made a dent into the first few chapters during her train ride up.

“Thanks.” She breathlessly spoke as she rushed outside.

His eyes trailed her as she left. “Whatever, I dun’ care.”

The square was starting to come alive, and she was struck by the realisation that she hadn’t remembered to hide her face- as she pulled up the hood of her cloak and she silently swore, hoping that nopony had noticed her. Regardless, she could forget staying for a sleep- if the clock on the wall at the newsagent’s was right, then she could hop on a train and be home before the lights went out.

Colourful ponies bustled around the streets and as a group of friends walked by, laughing about some unheard joke, Bea was reminded of Luna. Oh hell. What would happen if she randomly popped in again now? Would she be able to explain away the sudden appearance of an Alicorn? Probably not. As horrible as it was, Bea hoped Luna needed a while longer to process her feelings.

The ticket office at the train station was nearly empty, but not completely. Bea was too wrapped up in her thoughts and worries to notice that something was amiss, and she thought nothing of the lion-esque tail of the griffon that was waiting in line ahead of her, nor the speckled pattern of his feathers.

~~~

When Edgar turned to leave, he recognised her cloak and saddlebags, but instead of engaging her on the spot, he chose to simply leave the building, and waited to observe her further.

When she walked outside and headed directly to a nearby alleyway, he stuck back, following at a distance, allowing the combination of his avian senses and his training to ensure she remained within his vision.

When she thought she’d gone far enough, she crouched behind a dumpster, casting a scant look the way she’d came to make sure she hadn’t been followed. Edgar probably would’ve been caught if he hadn’t already clambered up a drainpipe onto a nearby rooftop. When she pulled out the diadem from her saddlebags and gave it a rub, he almost squawked in surprise, which would have been seen as a faux pas, both as a griffon with Equestrian citizenship, and as someone who was trying their best to be sneaky. It was far harder to keep his surprise quiet when the misty image of an Alicorn appeared next to the Witch. But he managed.

~~~

Bea had been putting it off, but now she had nothing else to distract herself with, and so she tentatively removed the diadem from her bag. She figured that due to Luna’s connection with the item, she could probably ‘summon’ her by interacting with it. Lo and behold, when she touched it, a quiet pop sounded as Luna fizzled into existence, and when she looked up, she was staring into her eyes. Woah.

“Hey there, you alright?” Bea reached out a hoof to console Luna, but the princess shrugged it off and drew herself up to her full height. It was easy to forget with how rarely Luna actually touched the ground, but she was easily a head taller than Bea, even without floating.

“I want to apologise.” Her voice was measured, and it felt like she’d been rehearsing a speech, which considering how long she’d been gone, was entirely possible. Although considering the revelation she’d had about the current date, perhaps her entire concept of “how long” it had been was totally out of whack.

Regardless, she was caught totally off-guard by this. “W-” Bea was pretty sure that she’d be the one who’d done something wrong in this situation. “What… for? I mean, I was the one who messed up- I was dumb and avoided the topic until too late, and then I handled it terribly.”

“Yes, but you are just a child.” Luna offered a sage rebuttal, and put a hoof on Bea’s shoulder- shaking her head as if some great injustice had been done to the poor, defenceless unicorn.

“Luna, I’m 22 years old. I can handle unfortunate situations, and deal with their repercussions. You don’t need to feel like it’s your responsibility.”

“Oh. Oh. Well… you’re still younger than me.” Luna tried to regain some of her composure, but her voice shook and her shoulders heaved and now Bea was standing up on her hind legs so that she towered above her.

“Oh yeah, I bet you’re pretty dang old. Heck, you’d have to be at least eighty-seven if the so-called 'blessed Mistress of The Sun' was actually your sister!” She jabbed at Luna with her hoof. “And exactly how much of that time were you awake for?” Luna looked like she was on the verge of tears under the blue unicorn’s onslaught, but then Bea surprised her by sweeping her up in a tight hug, and she started crying openly.

“I don’t believe you.” Bea gently stroked away one of the mare's tears. “Which is why I’m sorry that I fucked up.” She patted Luna’s back as the alicorn sobbed. “Now. How old are you, for real?”

“I-” Luna sniffled, taking a moment to breathe as Bea loosened up on her grip and let her compose herself. “What year is it- what year… on the Solar calendar?”

“It’s 1703. Something happened to your sister in 1615, and she disappeared completely from the public eye a year later. Her daughter- your niece, is at the head of the council that’s in charge now.”

“She had a daughter?” Luna’s eyes widened, and she looked so vulnerable in that moment that Bea dragged her back into the embrace. “I was b-born over a thousand years ago?” Bea’s eyes widened. One thousand? “B-but- buh-” Luna continued, face covered in snot, eyes red and puffy, and she starting bawling even harder than before. “I’m only 19!”

Luna held onto Bea so tightly that she started to tear out clumps of her coat, and then she disappeared again, leaving Bea grasping nothing but air. “Fuck.” And never before, had she burdened that single word with so much meaning.

She tucked the crown away into her saddlebag, and sat there, her eyes wide, still processing. She was so deep in thought that she didn’t notice the hooves rushing down the alleyway from either side until their somewhat familiar scent hit her; potent but not entirely unpleasant. Nevertheless, its identity evaded her, even as it alerted her to their presence. She jumped up- ready to fight, but a blow dart struck her in the neck.

A moment passed. Another. Beatrix turned to the pony who’d shot her, slowly. Violent intention simply dripped off her; a deluge of anger cascading over and manifesting into a terrifying presence.

Still a little overcome with emotion and absolutely brimming with adrenaline, she bellowed loudly, ripping the tiny projectile out. “That’s it? That’s all you have the grace to hit me with? I’m a bit busy for this amateur hour BULLSHIT!” Although her motions slowed a little, her muscles ached for a fight. Gone was the tenderness of the moment earlier- in its place was a cool blue titan of destruction. Her cloak fanned out as she moved and the ground cracked under the force of her hooves.

She punched straight through the mask of one of her attackers, pinning them to the wall, before spinning around and throwing them into another cluster of masked ponies. She twirled about, whirling and writhing in a draconic fury; decimating anypony that made the mistake of trying to get close. She snarled as she turned on the group that was behind her- only to get hit with a full volley of darts. Ooft, she thought as she staggered over to a wall. Did… I just grunt in my internal monologue? Yeesh.

Notwithstanding the amount of tranquiliser in Bea’s bloodstream, she could still take them, and probably have enough energy left over to make it to her train- she would find a nice private car, and she would collapse; letting the recent events wash off her.

Then the chant started.

These weren’t normal, opportunistic kidnappers, looking to shuffle her off into some equine-trafficking ring. In reality, the number of them should have been a dead giveaway that something was wrong, and if nothing else, there was the smell. It had been the most obvious clue, and realisation clicked in her clouded mind. Incense, candles… ash.

Oh no. Not them.

Imprinted in her vision, everywhere she looked- the eyes looked on. Neon and two dimensional, the crude depictions hung in the air and encircled her. Vivid memories began to hit her, harder than any blow. The ribs she’d broken when she was six and the arcing slices of pain that accompanied them, every rock that had ever been cast at her throughout her childhood until finally she had learnt to catch them mid-air and pelt them back, all the abuse that she’d endured and the names she’d been called and the times she’d let herself be hurt.

The horns of her attackers glowed brighter.

A spiral of darkness opened up within the centre of her skull, rending her body and sending her tumbling right past the precipice of natural unconsciousness and over into the greater blackness that lay beyond.

~~~

Edgar, who had been watching the whole thing, was very confused. He’d thought that he’d been doing a good job until the princess showed up. He’d felt a little gross as he silently witnessed the heart-baring exchange between the two, and then concerned for Bea as the ponies in cloaks showed up. She’d been winning the fight, right up until when she suddenly and inexplicably collapsed. Now he watched as they picked up their injured, and then collected the unconscious witch.

It definitely didn’t help to alleviate his uncertainty that everything he’d ever been taught as a hatchling was telling him to go against his orders, his training, and help the mare who had probably killed his partner.

There wasn’t time for him to come to a proper conclusion. The kidnappers were making their escape; he had to make his choice now, and he hated it.

Silently, he followed them from a distance, and hoped that he was doing the right thing.

10. Unicorns Were Not Meant To Fly

Onyx had fully expected the big guy to kill him in some gruesome manner. Even now, he was still a little bit in shock that he wasn't dead or dying. But as he observed the griffon, it quickly became apparent that he was unbearably pleasant, totally oblivious to the oppressive atmosphere that surrounded them- and the thought of him being some kind of violent monster quickly faded into fantasy.

Every once in a while, the stallion slung over Edgar’s shoulder grunted, providing the only noise other than the sound of hoofs and talons and paws on cobbles.

Occasionally, they’d come to a split in the road, or Edgar would right walk past a turnoff, a hidden side street, and Onyx would have to rush up and direct him properly- yet he refused to simply lead the way, and thus the dance continued.

Onyx would cringe at every cart that went past, each pair of eyes that followed them, and Edgar would cheerfully wave at everypony he saw, sometimes striking up short-lived conversations that his companion shut down quickly and with finality.

And so it was like this they went on, until they reached the town’s medical centre. Tunks had already been and left, and the doctor was already apprised of the situation- she’d either been bribed or threatened in order to prevent her from ratting them out to the Crown. Not that she would have needed much convincing- out here, witches were common and helpful enough that people were willing to turn a blind eye.

Onyx warily considered his unexpected griffon companion out the corner of his eye. Was he going to keep quiet about this? Regardless, he couldn’t just let him go after he’d seen this much.

Edgar, oblivious to the internal dialogue of the unicorn, as well as the fact that he was a unicorn at all- laid the unconscious pony down in the bed next to Silver, and then waited by the door as Onyx sorted out the details.

When he was finished, he strolled up to the complete stranger that he had enlisted to help him. The griffon spoke first, shooting him a warm smile. “Shame we didn’t meet under more- well, pleasant circumstances; Name’s Edgar.”

Onyx already knew this, as ‘Edgar’ had said as much to at least three ponies over the course of the last thirty minutes as they’d walked over. He put a hoof through his mane. “Onyx.” Seeing the way that Edgar stared at him, he felt the need to add “Is my name.” Edgar kept smiling, his head cocking almost imperceptibly to the left. “My name is Onyx.”

Edgar closed his eyes for a moment, grin splitting widely across his beak. “Yeah, I got that.” He kicked off the wall he was leaning on, as if doing so actually helped him to do anything other than look cool. Or at least, attempt to look cool. Edgar had dented the wall a little where he’d been leaning, and he was a little too large to stick the landing properly- bumping the arrangement of potted mushrooms next to him as he came down.

This however, did not seem to impact his enthusiasm.

“Come on, let’s head out. It’s getting a mite bit stuffy in ‘ere, wouldn’t you agree?” He started to leave without waiting for a response, and Onyx wordlessly trailed behind him, not sure how to respond.

Damn it! He’d already done what he needed to; why the hell was he sticking around? Did he want payment? Something else? Did he know that Onyx was secretly in a unicorn cult that had committed a kidnapping as recently as a little more than half an hour ago?

Or was he actually deranged? Onyx had heard of it happening before- after living in Equestria for long enough, some griffons ended up with a form of psychosis, acting upon their latent hatred of their equine hosts; grisly images of mutilated ponies would surface in the papers every once in a while.

Then again, it was quite possible that Edgar had no ulterior motives, and was just a nice guy. A terrifyingly strong, nice guy.

By the time they reached the first street corner, Onyx had managed to scamper up far enough for them to walk side by side, and he once again appreciated just how much taller than him the griffon was.

“So, what’s the plan from here?” Edgar yawned, stretching out his wings before folding them back up neatly. The feathered appendages nearly spanned the whole footpath at one point, and as they passed over him, Onyx’s mind was flooded with visions of landslides, cave-ins; really anything to do with immediate, traumatic crushing.

“H- how do you mean? The plan?”

“Well… what are you gonna do now?” He looked down to make eye contact with Onyx, smirking at him coyly. Many things were going through the unicorn’s mind, most of them intrusive or unbidden. Onyx's eyes darted wildly around, and he began to sweat. Gulping down his fear, he considered what anypony passing by would think. Is this ok? Is this socially acceptable?

Onyx searched desperately for a convincing lie, but none made themselves apparent. “I guess I’m going to go… uhh, home?” He finished lamely, hoping that would be enough of a signal for the ditzy catbird to leave him alone. The alternative was that Edgar would see it as an invitation, and Onyx was not ready to deal with the consequences of that.

“Oh! In that case, allow me to walk you there,” Edgar brought him close with one wing and held him there, as he mock-whispered, “Wouldn’t want anything to happen to you in the dark, would we?” At this point, Onyx was seriously confused as to whether Edgar was hitting on him or threatening him at any given time. It didn’t help that he was so close- and so big. The griffon himself frowned a little as Onyx extricated himself from the wing around him.

“It’s really alri-” the snap of talons interrupted him, once again foiling an attempt to rid himself of his altogether confusing companion. Those claws really were sharp. They could easily shred him down to the bone. They could probably do so much more.

“I just had a fantastic idea!” Edgar wheeled about to face him, eyes lit up and smiling broadly. Onyx was uncertain as to just how ‘good’ this idea was, considering who had come up with it. “You ever flown before?”

Ah. It isn’t just a bad idea, Onyx mused. It’s an outright terrible one- perhaps the worst possible idea ever.

There was no way he was going to let Edgar continue with this mad train of thought. He was going to put his hoof down, straighten this guy out, and be on his way, and nothing was gonna stop him!

“I don’t rE-” His sentence ended before it could even properly begin as Edgar scooped him up under one arm and shot into the air. The immediate sensation of weightlessness was utterly alien, and there was a brief period of placid surreality, as the unicorn’s body didn’t yet seem to find anything wrong with the fact that it had been translated many metres directly upwards in a matter of seconds.

Then the rapid ascent tapered, and they came to a peak. Now the only thing standing between Onyx and the irresistible beckoning of gravity was a beaked idiot who seemed to be incapable of leaving him alone. Already his stomach was spiralling down towards the cobble in spirit, even if his body remained trapped within the clutches of the griffon.

“hOLY- gguhrk-FUCK” Breathing slowly and shallowly so as to not move around too much, Onyx came to the quiet realisation that somebody was tousling his mane. This was absolutely terrifying, as it meant that Edgar was holding him with one claw.

He was trying to keep himself from shaking too much, but tucked close to Edgar’s chest, it must have been impossible for the griffon to ignore. “Hey now,” Edgar spoke in a low voice as they pulled up at a ninety degree angle, letting their hind legs dangle down to the ground far below them. Moving his talons down to Onyx’s sides, he flipped the stallion around to face him. “Just look at me, mmkay?” he cooed, and as Onyx found his eyes, he grinned again “Now breathe! Deeply, alright? Don’tcha go hyperventilating yerself.”

The feeling of surreality returned, and the overwhelming sensation of looming death crept backwards a few steps, before almost completely washing off him as he took a moment to look at the sky- the distant, dim pinpricks of faraway stars, and then, of course, to the griffon that dominated his vision. Throughout all of this, Edgar had just seemed so genuinely nice, and his smile had rarely faltered the whole time. He was absolutely radiant, and to ponies that lived in darkness, light like his was often blinding.

“Attaboy!” And then he was being moved- spun around and tucked back under Edgar’s arm. “Now, point us in the direction of yer place and we’ll be off.” Onyx's heart decided that now was a good time to play a drum solo.

Sure. Why not then? It’s not like anypony was expecting him back at the base, and it was hardly like they did a roll call. Whoever showed up, showed up, and that was about it most of the time. Nopony would mind if he was spending some time at home. With a really forward griffon. Doing perfectly normal activities. Platonically. As new friends.

“It’s over that way, to your right- no, your other right. Yes, keep goin- wait wait wait! Don’t go so fast!” Onyx blushed as he realised that he was pouting and when he snuck a peek up at Edgar’s face, the griffon blew a raspberry at him. He sighed, “I’ll get sick if you’re not careful- I’m not exactly used to flying, now am I?”

“Alright, princess. Anythang you want.” Edgar laughed at him, but he did move noticeably slower, which Onyx was silently grateful for.

“There! It’s over there- tucked away on that squiggly side bit…” Edgar dropped a little closer to the ground, the movement prompting a sharp inhalation from Onyx.

While he’d become somewhat acclimated with hovering at altitude, actually ‘flying’ was a different matter entirely, and horizontal motion at any speed was still debilitatingly foreign.

Hold on, when was the last time I had visitors? The svelte unicorn began to fret, realising that his home was far from opulent and his cleaning habits were hardly fastidious. It was fine- he was sure that something like that wouldn't matter between friends.

As they came to a slow halt above the street, Onyx breathed heavily, speaking once he’d regained his breath. “Yeah, that one. It’s the third house from the end.”

The pair descended with the sound of heavy wingbeats that punctuated the stillness of the night, and- as Onyx noticed with no small amount of unease- fell in time with the beating of his own heart.

~~~

Dusty, empty halls, grand arches and colonnades, frescoes and elaborate engravings; the studio, gallery and the music room. A library filled with books she’d written. This was her domain, her palace; a kingdom of one.

Luna had been trapped here for a while. Well- obviously- That was kind of her whole deal at the moment. But specifically, recently she’d been trapped in the sense that she was unable to reach her new (probably only) friend, Beatrix.

She’d realised in the early days of her confinement that she could still break back out into the world to some extent; there were a few places and objects she could project herself to. The magic involved was complicated, highly theoretical, and she wasn’t much bothered with understanding any of it, so long as she could finally leave her gilded cage.

It had quickly become disappointing when she realised she was unable to go any real distance from her crown (“diadem”, a small voice insisted from another room) without it becoming exponentially harder to maintain connection.

Then there was the fact that she couldn’t actually interact with the things around her- at least not properly. She could use magic, but it only worked sometimes and only on some things, seemingly at random.

Also… there was the moon.

She didn’t like going there.

When she was younger, she’d had nightmares about being trapped in endless grey plains, pockmarked with craters and hills, nothing in sight but more rock. You could gallop, fly or teleport forwards as fast as you could for hours, and nothing in the landscape would change. It was in many ways, the manifestation of her greatest fear.

But now she was double stuck! And after acting like a total foal in front of her cool unicorn friend too! She hadn’t had a breakdown like that since her third year at the academy- even when she’d woken up stuck (the old stuck, not the new one.)
Perhaps it was because things were finally starting to seem real again. Until about a week ago, she was almost convinced that the entire thing was a dream- although she was uncertain whether that meant her “old” life or her current one.

She couldn’t get to the crown (somepony yelled, “diadem!” from elsewhere in the building, although it was rather muffled).

She’d left her best friend (“only friend” came a correction) there in a bloody alleway for heavens’ sake.

After walking aimlessly for a while, she had reached the gallery. The art pieces here were all fairly terrible- she would know, being the artist for each and every one. Well- actually there was one that her sister had done, but Luna didn’t keep that one on display any more.

There was little else for her to do, and she hardly fancied looking at her collected failures, so she resolved to go and make some new mistakes, entering the studio and closing the door behind her.

~~~

“Shit. I don’t believe it.” Onyx patted himself down. The door stared impassively at him from one side, and Edgar waited with bated breath on the other.

“Dun believe what now?”

“Here, mind holding my cloak for a mo’?” He shot a glance back at Edgar who nodded and sat on his haunches, holding out his arms to receive the garment.

As he caught the bit of fabric, he examined it closely, scrutinising it. “Honestly, it’s more of a robe than a cloak. Cloaks don’t have sleeves, like this,” he held out one of the arms of the fabric, “See?”

“Uh-huh, that’s dandy. Where the fu-” Onyx froze, halfway through patting his clothes down. He’d forgotten that he was supposed to be hiding the fact that he was a unicorn. He turned slowly to face Edgar, hoping- praying to the Seer herself, even though he didn’t really do that anymore- that the griffon wouldn’t react adversely. He readied himself to cast any number of offensive or defensive spells, as he waited to gauge Edgar’s response.

Edgar looked up and his usual ‘cool-guy cowboy’ persona absolutely crumbled as he nearly squee’d. “Butter my butt and call me a biscuit Onyx; your horn’s fucking adorable! I don’t blame you for yer fashion choice- I’d keep my head covered too if it was that darned cute! Nobody’d damn well take ya seriously!”

“Huh- wha?” Onyx’s ears folded as he touched a hoof to the spectacularly undersized horn that had made him the target of ridicule for most of his life. “Shut up! Jerkass.” A heat rose from within him though- he could tell that Edgar meant no harm by it, and he scoffed as the griffon sidled over and tousled his hair again. “And stop doing that!”

He didn’t push the griffon away though.

“Well, I can’t find my keys… but,” he looked Edgar over again once more before looking off into the distance again. Despite the griffon’s hulking build, it was hard to imagine somebody more friendly and harmless. “There is somewhere else we can go, to… uhh-.” he snapped his head back round. “What exactly… were we, y’know, gonna do? Together. In my house.” a few beads of sweat rolled down his forehead, darkening his white coat. “The two of us. Alone.”

“Iunno? Chat? Maybe have a few drinks?” Edgar shrugged. “Rescue a princess from his life of mundanity and routines?” Onyx didn't say anything, but not for lack of trying. “Dun’t matter none- you ready?” Onyx cocked his head.

“Ready? For what?”

Edgar tossed the robe at him and flapped his wings once, grinning. “For your second flight, pal.”

11. What Is Your Major Malfunction, Captain?

“Wo-oah there hoss. You alright?” an unhealthy sheen had overcome Onyx, and the usual pure white of his coat had yellowed a bit. Edgar gently shook him, tutting to himself. “If I was goin’ too fast, ya shoulda said somethin’!”

The unicorn’s eyes were set on the building ahead of him. Even before landing just outside the compound, he’d slowly been growing quiet, a sense of foreboding settling uncomfortably at the front of his mind.

“Uhh… Onyx? Buddy?” Onyx wanted to laugh at how quickly Edgar had decided they were friends, the passion with which he forced his naivete to become reality. But instead he wet his lips and spoke hoarsely. “There’s nopony outside.”

“Well, yeah- I mean hell, it has to be Last-Light soon, doesn’t it?” Edgar kept walking forward, not realising that Onyx had stopped. “I can’t imagine many people would wanna stay out this late.” Noticing at last that his companion had fallen behind, Edgar walked back and put an arm around him; forcing him forwards.

“I guess so.”

And then they reached the threshold.

The smell of fire was choking, a tempestuous inferno that threatened to wrest life away from anything it deemed to be fuel. But even beyond that was the sound. A collision of blades, valorous yells and terrified screams. The sound of panic, of struggle- a fierce battle was ongoing.

A siren cut over the top of everything else. It was a raid.

“Shit. I wasn’t here.” It came out as a whisper, harsh and short. “Shit!” Onyx broke off from Edgar and threw himself forwards in a headlong sprint, and it took a moment for the griffon to remember that he was, in actual fact, here to do his job.

Snapping himself out of it, he rifled through his satchel. Pushing Onyx’s housekeys to the side with a jangle, he rummaged around until he found his cap. As he donned the leather garment and lowered the goggles over his eyes, he sucked in a lungful of air, tasting the floating embers and letting them scorch his throat, his breath. With clarity found, he shot off after the shrinking figure of the unicorn he’d spent the last few hours getting closer to.

At least he hadn’t had to torture him. Whenever it had come to that, Sterling had always taken care of it without him, and Edgar wasn’t entirely sure if he was capable of causing so much pain.

~~~

Cray didn’t immediately follow Bea as she made her explosive exit from the room serving as her infirmary. Despite his experience, his venerable age, and his elevated status within their organisation; it really seemed like none of the other scholars listened to him- this latest catastrophe only served as yet more evidence of how much of a bad idea that was.

He began to hum a sorrowful tune as he limped over to the cabinets on the far side of the room.

It was, he supposed, ultimately his fault, for allowing Lady Beatrix such freedoms as a foal. Her abilities had far surpassed the understanding and capabilities of The School- and the onus for this lay solely upon his head. A tool should not be treated as a child, nor should it be allowed to think that it was anything more than something to be forged and used.

The song peaked as he threw open the cupboard doors on the left, and he launched into a new section; switching into a major key as his vocalisations grew more energetic. He continued his work, nearly lying flat on his stomach in order to better reach the things at the very back.

Beatrix, despite her near boundless potential, had never been a talented wizard- for that matter she struggled with all disciplines of magic… perhaps it was only natural that she would settle on defining herself by the least magical of them all. Witchery. Being an adept mage was not a requirement for becoming a witch, and in fact, it almost made things harder for an aspirant hagling.

With the bottom of the cabinet removed, he could extract the box from where he’d left it. The song trailed off into an ostinato, fading as it slowed down.

The destructive heat that had consumed his old student was not a result of her magic, although she was certainly the one that had caused the unidentified spell to ignite. Basic “unicorn” magic is a product of emotion and willpower- the excessive power that must have been pooling up inside her had clearly catalysed something else. A curse? Some kind of hex? Whatever it was, it had clearly been designed without care for her wellbeing.

The song came to a close, the last note remaining unresolved. He opened the box and retrieved his fiddle.

Now, equipped and ready for battle, he walked out after her, following the trails of melted stone and scorched wood.

Echoing down the corridor, the warning alarm had been raised- although the unicorn on guard had gotten it wrong; the threat was internal, not external, although it hardly mattered at this point in time.

As the bow struck at the strings, a new verse began.

~~~

As Onyx rounded yet another corner and spotted a group of his brethren engaged in battle with a trio decked out in the armour of the Solar Guard. Dimly aware of Edgar’s presence, he hissed under his breath at the griffon shadowing him, “What are you still doing here? Get yourself OUT, before the guard spots you!”

Onyx shoved at his friend with all his might, failing to make him take even a single step back. Edgar was standing at his full height, and as Onyx took stock of him, he was brought back to where he had been hours earlier, when he first encountered him. The griffon was honestly terrifying, a veritable wall of strength. The dark tint of his goggles gave him an almost insectoid appearance, and the only remaining sign of his usual goofy personality were the straps that he had neglected to fasten round his chin, flapping wildly with each movement.

Edgar walked directly forward, into the midst of the melee, and stood in-between the unicorns and the elite soldiers, turning himself ninety degrees to face the latter. “You. State your name and rank.” The visored face of the pony in front of him bore no recognition as they raised their sword up, readying themselves to chop at this unarmed interloper.

The attack, at the very least, would have cut deep into Edgar’s right shoulder- had he not stepped forward and grabbed the pony’s elbow and twisted them round into an armlock, stopping their attack before their sword even began its downward arc, and then disarming them.

Onyx’s jaw dropped, and his thoughts were divided- half of him debating on whether or not it had been a good idea to bring this stranger to their sanctum, and the other half, embarrassingly enough, was dominated by the rather redundant statement “wow he’s strong.”

“Yer name and rank, soldier. Now.” Edgar’s tone could have easily shattered through the gleaming armour of the pony he had at his mercy. The fighting had come to a temporary stop as both sides warily eyed the newcomer. Edgar leaned forward and hissed at the pony, “Further insubordination’ll see you thrown on yer ass, right quick.”

Standing off to the side of the confrontation Onyx couldn’t believe his ears. “What...?” he stared on in horror, voicing the question so quietly that it was completely lost under the noise of the ongoing battles.

Coughing violently, the soldier gave in to the pressure, “Prudent Tempo.” his voice was strained from exertion and pain, but a certain coolness still cut through. Edgar released him and spun him around, gesturing for him to continue. Begrudgingly, the gold-plated stallion looked around at his comrades. Receiving no counsel from them, Tempo grumbled as he removed his helmet and saluted. “Solar Guard, Captain of the Third Company.”

“A captain, eh? Heh. Figured as much.” The soldiers were massive brutes, but next to the hulking griffon, even they appeared childlike. Edgar turned to face the unicorn fighters, still not sure what to make of his appearance. His gaze passed over them and he grunted as he spoke to the captain without turning. “You used to fighting against kids, soldier?” He spat the last word out with an intense venom.

Tempo furrowed his brow, features morphing into an indignant snarl. “You dare? We ar-”

Edgar’s voice was cold, betraying no emotion. “You’re murdering children, innocents and the defenceless. Why?”

“We have direct orders!”

“What orders?”

A mutter rose among the assembled guards. Edgar silenced them, holding up a single talon. “To slaughter ponies that aren’t doing anythang wrong? To unknowingly raise yer sword against a superior officer, without even thinking to check his identity?”

The captain surged forwards. “But they are Witches!”

Edgar struck him across the face, and the semi-circle of guards hefted their assorted weapons in response, willing but hesitant to attack. He looked around at the guards, surveying the emotionless metal of their helmets, taking note of their stances. “No one here is better acquainted with Witches than I- save perhaps for the actual Witches that’re surroundin’ us,” he turned his head to the side just enough to give a respectful nod to the unicorns behind him. Onyx tried to catch his eye, but Edgar refused to look at him.

“As the acting-Witchfinder General, I find it mighty peculiar that I’ve never ‘eard of any orders of the sort. This kind a’ violence is barbaric- heck, it’s downright repulsive. To follow such commands without question or protest is a disgrace to the nation that you serve.”

Everybody in the room was shocked by the revelation.

“Witchfinder General?”

“Damn! He’s even worse than they are!”

“A... griffon? He can’t be… can he?”

Tears welled up in Onyx’s eyes.

Edgar cleared his throat, and despite the mixed responses, the room fell mostly silent. “Captain. How many troops are involved in this raid?”

“About thirty in total under my command. The Captain of the Fourth commands another similarly sized group.”

“Rally yer forces, and prepare ‘em to leave,” he moved to address one of the oldest unicorns in the group of fighters. “You. Take a couple of the strongest ponies you got here and escort them, so all of ya friends know that their surrender is genuine.”

“Surrender?! This is an outrage! I a-” Tempo’s outburst fell flat as Edgar loomed above him, unblinking.

“Buddy.” He poked at the captain’s chest with a talon. “If you don’t do as you are commanded, I will take it into my own claws, y’understand?” With that single digit, he pushed the soldier backwards and onto the floor. “Dismissed.” He walked off, not bothering to check whether his point had gotten through.

Crossing back to where Onyx was still standing slack jawed, Edgar clapped the unicorn on the back. “Come with me, we shall deal with the remaining issue.”

As soon as they had broken the Solar Guard’s line of sight, Edgar grabbed Onyx by the shoulders and rushed the two of them into an empty room. A few moments passed, and the relative silence remained. The fighting, at least here, had stopped.

Edgar wiped some imaginary sweat off his brow. “Phew. Ho-ly shit.I can’t believe they really bought into that. I mean- wow- what if they hadn’t?”

Onyx slapped him.

Edgar gingerly raised a claw to his cheek. It might not have hurt him physically, but it was still a shock. He settled himself down next to the snow-coloured unicorn. Onyx was crying; rivers of wetness streaking down his face and off his chin. “Aww, shucks.” Cradling Onyx’s chin with one claw, he used the other to wipe away his tears. “Hey now, big guy… M’sorry, ok? Please dun’t cry anymore.” He brought the smaller stallion in for an embrace, and as his face closed in, Onyx gently closed his eyes, pursing his lips slightly. He could smell Edgar- his heavy scent; like cedar trees and the sweetness of apples, and he could feel his breath; hot on his face.

Edgar pulled him in for a bro-hug, and Onyx was filled with the simultaneous disappointment of unrequited attraction and the silent joy that his friend- his best friend, really was just a weird goofball with a country accent. Also, he might act as an enforcer for the regime that arbitrarily persecutes ponies, simply because of what they are, but the jury was still out on that matter, and it wasn’t like Edgar was going around burning ponies at the stake.

Patting him heavily on the back, Edgar chuckled kindly. “Alrighty. Chin-up, mmkay? After all...” He stood, pulling Onyx to his hooves in front of him. “I am gonna need yer help for this next bit.”

12. Mare Of Her Dreams

Though she wanted to, Bea didn’t dare scream. Pain coursed through the entirety of her left side even before she landed, and the resultant jolt from when she did hit the ground was almost numbing.

In a display of incredible willpower, the cerulean filly lay still, holding in all but the occasional sniffle.

“Again.” Like daggers. That’s what her voice was like- just like a thousand tiny daggers. Something sharp, pointed- meant to kill; but easily concealed.

“I d-” a gurgle drowned out her words, quickly turning into a hacking cough that sent new waves of hurt throughout her body. A small spattering of blood mingled with her spittle and wet the ground in front of her. She had bitten her tongue too, but that was far less concerning that the burning feeling crawling up her side.

Gently running her teeth over the bite mark, she found it produced a somewhat muted ache. Between the heavily layered taste of iron and the not altogether unpleasant sensation, she was able to wrest control of her focus, and ever so slowly, she shifted herself upright. It hurt- it actually hurt quite a lot- but she was up.

“I… don’t know if I-” more ribs cracked on her other side as the next hit landed just as hard as the one before it. “-HGGRK”

She hit the floor and the world turned sideways, sending her mind tumbling.

Far too abruptly, she regained stability. The constant sensation of the mats on the floor beneath her body simply ceased, leaving nothing in their place. All that remained of the mind-shattering pain was the shock, and even that was quickly subsumed by the feeling of wrongness as gravity shifted, putting her back in an upright position. She was not in the training room anymore.

The ground under her hooves was chalky, and a hoof lay reassuringly, on the back of her neck; digging into her withers, not quite hard enough to hurt, but there was still some force behind it, keeping her still as they watched from afar.

Ahead of her, the congregation that had formed up outside was all but ready to depart, and if they were lucky, they’d reach their destination before the next sleep. Bea longed to one day be part of the scouting party. To be allowed to roam free of the rest of the flock; a member of a close-knit group, bravely securing the safety of the whole school. It was a hollow dream and she knew it.

Peering out at them all from here, it was just like watching strangers passing by through a grubby window- something that she found quite accustomed to. She was able to make out some details through the smudges, but others were obscured by the grime.

There were the ponies of course; other students in the years above her, and one of the teachers. Then there were the things… for example, the wagon, already heavily laden with passengers and bags of supplies in equal measure. The wagon was a beautiful thing, and she had often fantasised about what adventures she could go on with it.

But what really caught her eye were the moments that others shared. The things that she glimpsed briefly between the legs of ponies far taller than her, or that she just managed to catch a peek at, a private thing, barely visible behind a stack of boxes, tucked behind the corner of the wagon. Siblings saying goodbye- lovers sharing a last moment before they were separated. Parents and children; friends and rivals alike.

It was natural that in this era, the fittingly named ‘Long Night’, that time would feel so much more dramatic. Before- when each cycle was separated into two parts, covered by a brilliant light and a shroud of darkness respectively- it was easy to get a feeling of progression. Without that constant change, everything felt like one laboriously drawn out silhouette of a moment.

So it was these little pieces of life, just going on- even as the great mechanisms that had marched time forward lay broken and still, these moments that really drew her attention. More than anything else, she wanted something like that for herself.

Through the fog, she recognised an older filly, one of the acolytes- more than double her age. Ivory Carver. She’d taught Bea how to braid her mane, and until recently, Ivory had read for her, bringing to life all the books with bigger words, the ones that traded whimsy and insufferable sweetness for intrigue and danger. Ivory hadn’t been afraid to challenge her when she was acting spoilt, and she often talked about her own life and problems, not just fawning over the young heir in an obvious attempt to better herself.

Even though Bea realised that the only reason that everypony was nice to her was because they had to be, it had always felt like Ivory actually cared enough to know her, even if only to ingratiate herself to Bea more efficiently. But she wanted to believe that there was more to it than that.

When she had been about to leave with the others, Bea was overcome. It was so rare that Bea actually acted out, that Jo barely registered it when the filly slipped out from under her hoof.

By the time the surly pegasus had moved to follow her charge, Bea had already rushed up, rushing past the crowd and squeezing through the fence. Having made it this far, she took a moment to regain her bearings and home in Ivory, standing proud and tall with her silvery mane and straw coloured coat and her rich laugh and her crown of flowers.

Ivory was in the middle of a conversation, and only turned just in time to be enveloped by a fierce hug; with Bea wrapping as much of her tiny body around Ivory as she could. “Be careful, ok?” She’d said tearfully, nuzzling into the older girl’s shoulder. Ivory had laughed, and hugged her back.

“Ok, ok! You got it, scamp. I promise.” She’d cast her gaze over to the colt she’d been talking to, and shook her head. “Sisters, eh?” He inhaled sharply, muttering to himself as he walked away, and Ivory tittered to herself yet again. Bea wanted to cling to her forever. Her sister- Ivory really loved her! Had they always been family- had she simply been too blinded by the self-absorbed expectation that nopony cared for her beyond her title?

Ivory must have spotted Bea’s guardian approaching, because she prised the small filly off herself and patted her on the back. “Alright kiddo, let’s get you back to your mother.” She leaned down to playfully whisper in Bea’s ear “She’s a little scary- I don’t want her to think I was trying to steal you.”

Bea giggled, “Jo’s not my mum, she’s my aunt.”

As they walked back to where Jo was waiting, Bea turned to get one more look at her friend- no, her sister, walking back to the rest of the group. Evidently, she lingered too long, and the stern hoof of her guardian came down on her shoulder. She winced instinctively, but when she looked up, Jo was wearing a tired smile. The pegasus used a wing to ruffle Bea’s mane.

They never saw anypony that had gone with that forward team again.

From what Bea could overhear, it had been concluded that there was an attack- most likely, agents of the Solar court happened to be patrolling the area and noticed them. Ivory and the others- if they were alive- were probably in the capital city by now.

Bea followed the teachings. She didn’t cry because she knew it was a luxury they couldn’t afford. She ate in silence and went directly to her room. A few hours later, she heard the door lock.

Staring wistfully out at the dark sky, she offered a silent prayer to the Mistress of Shadows, and clambered into bed, hoping to fall asleep quickly.

That night, she had her first dream.

~~~

It had been quite a few days- or cycles, as Bea insisted on calling them- since Luna had last spent any amount of time in her palace. Really, if one was being technical about things, it’d been a few centuries, at the least. As she ran the thought around her head, her head drooped under the sheer absurdity of her situation, and she found herself having to stifle a giggle.

It wasn’t too hard to keep quiet though; the chiselled grey-matter walls carried sound and thought for kilometres, echoing about the empty castle, which really hammered in the terrifying isolation of her situation. Perhaps she should spend some time sculpting again- maybe make some motionless grey subjects to keep herself company. Then again, surrounding herself with cold facsimiles of life might actually turn out to make her feel even more lonely.

One of her ears quirked at a familiar noise.

There was a flickering sound- this consistent rattle, occasionally stuttering or wavering. The cinema hadn’t been working the entire time she’d been back, but it seemed to be running just fine now.

During the initial days of her confinement, it had been her only source of entertainment. Even here, she could still see dreams, although it was hardly ‘dream-walking’, or at least not as it had been when she’d had a real body.

An idle thought led to another thing and on a whim, she summoned the theatre to herself. She was thoroughly fed up with painting for now, and there wasn’t much else to do.

Through the respectably sized double doors she strode, taking note of the projector, blank reel spinning away madly. Taking a quick look at the leaflet advertising the currently showing ‘features’, Luna sighed. There were only three, and of course Bea was one of them. That might explain why she was unable to project her form into the real. Maybe.

She turned the page over to the next one. There was no next page, and the back of the first one was completely blank. Her brow creased with a heavy frown. It wasn’t uncommon that only a few different dreams would be considered important enough to be on the front page, but there was never less than a hundred or so in total, over five or more pages.

The metaphoric constructs here could only go so far- how one would even try to represent every dream occurring simultaneously was beyond her. Archival was slightly easier, but considering the sheer volume of people that dreamed every night, there were still some restrictions on how the ‘films’ were stored, even if this realm wasn’t entirely bound by the same rules as reality.

In a heartbeat, she stood in front of towering aisles, crammed full of records. Without wasting time, she moved to the lectern at the front of the nearest aisle, grabbing the book atop it. Flicking through the index, she grew even more concerned. There had only been a little bit less than a hundred dreams in as many years.

A pout crossed her face briefly, but she quickly shrugged it off, and returned herself to the cinema. Grabbing her usual seat, she clapped her hooves twice and the room went dark. Picking up her glasses from the side table that hadn’t been there a moment before, she settled down to watch the first dream.

It didn’t work.

She looked at the screen blankly, unamused by this spanner in the works. Checking the brochure again, she noted that the title she had selected was now scribbled out.

Burying her head in her hooves, she tried with the next one, already certain that she would be met by the same result. Sure enough, the screen remaining perfectly white.

Great. That just left Beatrix’s dream. Usually, Luna liked to get permission to view the dreams of the people she knew, but she was really bored, and Bea was very understanding. She probably wouldn’t mind.

~~~

A force of pure destruction was tearing through the compound. It wasn’t specifically trying to demolish everything, but anything that remained in its path was permanently erased from this world. The stone floors melted beneath her hooves, walls crumbled as she walked nonchalantly right through them, and no matter where she went, the fighting pretty much instantly stopped, with cultist and soldier alike dropping back into a defensive position in the wake of this upset.

Minutes after she would pass by, a warbling tune would sing throughout the halls, heralding the arrival of a second stranger following along in her footsteps- a stallion that members of the School would have known as the Regent, while the agents of the Solar Guard recognised him from their briefing. He was an extreme threat, far beyond any of their capabilities.

Then, in each different area, groups of ponies composed equally by government operatives and heretical fugitives would arrive, and formally bring a cessation to the fighting. Apparently the Witchfinder General himself had shown up and demanded that the entire operation be called off, with both sides disengaging peacefully.

At the same time, the supposed “Witchfinder General” and a particularly low-ranking member of the School were also racing to track down Bea, unaware of her current state, and without the faintest idea of what to do when they found her. Notably, they had also taken a detour to collect some confiscated items from a secure lockup, namely a pair of saddlebags and a beret that Onyx thought was cute.

In the main chapel, most of the fighting had already drawn to a close. Naturally the mages guarding the Prior would be some of the most powerful magic-users of the entire School, however the guards that had expected to be apprehending unicorns were wholly unprepared for the fact that the much revered Prior Josephine Chrysanthemum was actually a pegasus, and in addition, she was not any kind of scholar, but instead an extremely accomplished warrior.

Even though the defenders were outnumbered, they managed to overcome the invading Guards with brutal efficiency. The Prior herself quickly took out two pike-wielding soldiers with a flurry of strikes followed up by a spear tackle, the two guards collided and dropped, winded and bruised.

The unicorns around her proved to be just as formidable, casting all manner of spells, calling upon powers granted by their mystical arts- between sizzling bolts of superheated plasma and salvos of magical explosions, another few went down. Of the ten guards that had entered the room, only six remained standing.

But while the strength of the two forces was clearly not evenly balanced, a good jab with a spear is still enough to put anyone down for the count. One cultist went down, and then another two. Pressing the advantage, one of the attackers rushed Josephine while she was distracted by the death of one of her flock. His sword sank deep into her, cleaving from her left shoulder to the elbow. Yowling, she bucked him across the room with her hindlegs and used her wings to flap over to her two remaining comrades.

Four of the golden soldiers closed in on the group. Both unicorns that were still standing held strong, protecting the matriarch of their church. Linking hooves, they began to chant, weaving a curse with densely archaic words, riddled with consonants. The approaching guards stumbled back in fear, as the two unicorns stepped forward, eyes glowing and lighting forking underneath their skin. In a flash, they were gone.

Victorious yet exhausted, the defenders regrouped. Two of their number had been slain, another was unresponsive but alive, and the Prior was still bleeding heavily. She panted heavily, and each movement was obviously causing her significant pain. “You both fought well. You all did.” As the robed mare fussed over her wound, she called out to the stallion checking over each of the bodies. “Hey, Thunder. They dead?”

He shrugged. “Spider Bite’s alive, but…” casting a resigned glance at the other two, he continued, “yeah.”

A yell from the doorway startled all three of them, and the last guard leapt at Thunder, going for yet another cheap shot. His sword screamed through the air, and there was no way that anypony could completely evade a surprise attack from that distance.

Metal clanged against metal and the sword went flying out of the guard’s hoof. Jo groaned, hoof still outstretched after throwing the spear. In doing so, she’d torn the wound on her left shoulder open further, much to the frustration of the mare who was trying to stich her back together.

Thunder rejoined the others, and the three of them stared down the intruder. Jo spoke up first. “You’re outnumbered. If you surrender now, we’ll show you mercy.” She cast a furtive glance at the dead unicorns before looking back up to him pointedly. “Which is more than you’ve done for us.”

He ignored them. “I am the Captain of the Fifth Company. This is my moment of triumph. Why would I fold in the face of already defeated enemies?”

The mare that had been trying fruitlessly to mend the Prior’s injury gave up, throwing her needle and thread down as she snapped at him “Are you blind? Look around! You lost!”

This did not deter him, and he spared only a moment to glance at his fallen subordinates. “Yes, I suppose I am alone. But you are all exhausted- I doubt you could even utilise the most basic of the abilities afforded to you by Witchery now.” Pausing for a moment, he leaned down and picked up a sword, the blade already coated in blood. “Funny that you will die as you lived, Prior.” A nasty sneer crept onto hjs face as he closed in. “Hiding behind others, too weak and too stupid to do anything more than prevent the sword from falling upon your own head. Goodb-”

An inferno entered the room, and the captain cried out, dropping his sword as his armour began to steam.

~~~

“What in the…” Edgar and Onyx both skidded to a halt as they entered into the grand oaken hall. They had found the source of all the destruction, after a few minutes of breathlessly following along a path of rapidly cooling molten stone.

Golden helmets, swords and spears littered the floor, and at least seven separate bodies lay in piles throughout the room, three robed, four armoured. Ahead of them, in the far corner of the room, another four figures remained upright. Two of the unicorn cultists crowded around a kneeling pegasus, while another member of the Solar guard- this one with a particularly flashy uniform- stood with his back to them. All four were watching the fiery creature in the centre of the room intently.

“Prior!” Onyx yelled, jumping forward and rushing towards his collapsed comrades. In the span of a single moment, a flaming tendril broke off from the rest of the pony-shaped mass of energy and heat and caught the unicorn with a savage blow to his spine. His recently acquired beret flew off his head, landing a few metres away.

Onyx crumpled immediately, and Edgar spread his wings, preparing to swoop in. “Hold on, bud- I gotcha!” But as soon as he took a step, the whip-like appendage came down on Onyx yet again, this time striking him in the withers, and eliciting a pained grunt. “Darnit!” Edgar yelled, skidding to a stop awkwardly. “Fine! I’m staying right here, just… just leave him alone, d’ya hear?” The heat momentarily subsided, and Edgar slid forward a step at a time, holding both claws up. “Neither of us mean ya any harm!”

“She can’t hear you, boy.” Came a voice from behind him, toneless and weary. Dressed in some kind of suit and plucking away at some kind of stringed instrument, the corners of the gentlecolt’s eyes creased with a barely restrained grin.

“Who in th-” The old stallion ignored Edgar and walked straight past him, showing no concern for Onyx who was still writhing about in agony, nor for the wreaths of flame that licked up his as he walked past the inferno. For the briefest of moments, the fire died down and Edgar got a glimpse of the Witch he’d been tasked with hunting, eyes closed peacefully.

“Now just hold on one minute.” Edgar moved to follow the newcomer across the room, and the raging tempest began in full force once again. As soon as he fell back, the fire stilled. “Oh. That’s just… great.”

Onyx’s coat had a pinkish tinge around where he’d been hit, criss-crossed by three strips of exposed flesh, bubbled and blistered from the heat. At least there wasn’t much blood, but even so, Onyx had stopped moving.

Edgar became acutely aware of an itch on the back of his neck.

“Prior! Are you still alive?” Sauntering up to the group at the far end of the room, the Regent was uncomfortably casual, considering the circumstances. Taking care not to tread on any of the unconscious or deceased ponies strewn about the floor, and avoiding most of the destroyed furniture, the old stallion slowed as he passed the extremely out of place captain, who intermittently yelped whenever his skin touched the rapidly heating metal of his armour.

“Yes. I am.” The mare paused to check herself, mock inspecting the non-insignificant amount of blood that had pooled around her, “Yep. I’m just friggin’ dandy.” Jo craned her neck around to look over her shoulder from where she was lying. “Why do you have a tiny guitar?”

Thunder piped up, putting one of his hooves forward and knocking over the tray of emergency medical tools. “I think that’s a viola-” He received a jab to the ribs, he turned to look at the mare treating the injured Prior. “What? It’s got four strings and-” she pointed at the scattered items and gave him a dark look. “Oh. Shit!” he scrambled to collect them. “My bad, Juniper.”

Juniper scoffed. “Whatever.” She took stock of the Regent, and had a thoughtful look on her face as she stared at the instrument in his hooves. The whole time, it’d still been vibrating with noise, but there was no pitch to it. Just a constant hum. “Besides, I’m pretty sure that’s a violin.”

The Captain whimpered, clattering to the floor. Jo looked over at him, and amused look tugging at the corners of her mouth. “M’ pretty sure it’s a-” she yawned loudly, sat up and blinked her eyes. “Screw it. Wake me up when all this is over.”

The Regent played a short note. “It’s actually a fiddle, and I suppose it should have been obvious that asking any of you for assistance would have been redundant.” The hum came to a stop, and his instrument came to rest. Using one hoof to slick back his hair, and straighten his already immaculate cravat, he took a wide stance in front of Bea. “No matter. I’ll simply do it alone.”

~~~

When she rolled over to check the pocket-watch she kept on her bedside, she found that the numbers wouldn’t stay still long enough for her to decipher what time it was. It was dark outside when she took a peek through the window, but when wasn’t it? Still, there were no active beacons; no ghostly fluorescence casting shadows upon the high walls of the courtyard. It was late. Everypony ought to be asleep. In other words, it was the perfect time for a daring escape.

Usually, it would be unthinkably difficult to slip past the defences keeping her prisoner. Even if she was somehow able to break open the metal grille over the window, make her way along a precariously narrow ledge and onto the relative safety of the courtyard wall, she’d still have to find a way to get down, and all this would have to be done without triggering any of the magic wards or alarms. At least, that’s the way things usually were, and the nature of normality makes it easy to assume that nothing’s different when presented with the same set of circumstances as always.

But ten cycles ago she’d had her first dream.

She hadn’t given it any credence at first. But then she’d had it again the next time she slept, and the next, and so on until now. She would have been utterly fed up if she weren’t so horrified by what she had been shown during her slumber. If even a little bit of it turned out to be true, then she had to leave, and get far away from the School.

When the forward team had arrived here, they hadn’t finished much of their work before going missing, and ensuring that one room was inescapable- no matter who it belonged to- wasn’t exactly the highest priority, when the entire colony was being hunted by the government.

The grate on her window wasn’t actually attached to anything- and with a little bit of force applied to the mesh, the screws loosely fell to the cobbled floor on the story below, clinking as they bounced away. Had that been too loud? Did somepony hear it? It’s not like there was much she could do if it did attract attention- without access to any magic, she just had to hope that things went ok.

Propping the removed grate up on her windowsill, she collected the bag she’d packed a few hours earlier. After grabbing her watch and putting on a warm coat, she was ready to leave- if things went well, she’d probably never have anything to do with the School again. She didn’t spare a second glance as she clambered out onto the ledge. A dark blue alicorn stepped out of the shadows, a concerned frown dominating her face.

The ledge around the building was wide enough for her to sidle along without too much trouble, so long as she held her bag in front of her. One she reached the courtyard wall, she was essentially already free. Using a derelict trellis as a makeshift ladder, she reached the ground, and was suddenly overcome by the euphoria of freedom. Had she ever been alone until now? Still, she had a long way to go.

She started down the ditch at the side of the road, taking care to keep her head down and ensure she didn’t trip. Darkness like this was something new to her- there had always been at least some kind of lighting at the School, and so she had to move slowly, in order to accommodate for her under-developed night-vision.

Then she heard wingbeats, powerful and fast. Had Jo realised and come to get her? Had she already been spotted? How had they even noticed she was gone already? The sound passed overhead, and Bea counted two minutes before she breathed a sigh of relief, and clambered out of the ditch and across the road. She hadn’t wanted to go into the forest because it was potentially far more dangerous, but there was no way she’d get caught there. She ran as fast as her little legs could carry her, kicking up dust as she moved.

She didn’t even make it halfway across the road before something dived upon her from above, crushing her into the dirt, and forcing her to cry out, her ribs still sore. “You little shit.” Josephine spat, obviously fuming. “After all that we’ve done for you? Now you’ve decided that you’ve had enough of leeching off us for years, you’re just going to up and leave?”

When Josephine raised her hoof to hit her, Bea managed to roll out from under the mare and scramble away. Josephine just laughed at her, and approached again, clearly toying with her. And then, just as she got within range of the terrified filly, she was hit from the side with so much force that it looked like she simply disappeared.

The world shifted again, and Bea felt herself coming back to lucidity, tears streaming down her face. She shuddered, closing her eyes. What memory would she be forced to relive next?

A warm embrace enveloped her, and Luna spoke. “Beatrix… are you alright?”

13. Wherein Edgar Is Confused Yet Again

Edgar, as per usual, found himself struggling to keep up. None of these ponies were familiar to him, although they all seemed to be pretty assured of their own importance, each in their own ways.

However the most pressing question- other than that of Onyx’s safety- was what exactly was the Witch doing? Aside from the fact that she appeared to be comatose, floating a metre of the ground and extremely on fire, she’d apparently just blazed a roundabout trail of destruction until she arrived at this room, whereupon she had just stopped, showing no sign of activity except for when she had brutally incapacitated Onyx- who had ignored her completely.

Coolly, he reached up to the side of his goggles, and erring on the side of caution, he tried keeping his movements slow, so as not to draw too much attention. After lowering the goggles over his eyes, he let his fingers wander back around to the right. With a quick twist of his claw, the dial on the casing slipped round into the next setting, and a new lens snapped into place with a satisfying cktHUNK.

The grim-looking pegasus mare in the back was out cold, and the two unicorns guarding her had settled into a defensive stance- the mare, Edgar noted, had been using her hooves to treat their leader. Considering all the fallen bodies that lay about the room, it was a safe assumption to make that there had been a clash between the two forces, and the victors were obviously exhausted. Sweat coated the two of them, and under the indigo tint of his goggles, neither of them had any discernible aura, magical or otherwise.

Interestingly enough, the same could not be said for their “Prior”, but seeing as she was already down for the count, Edgar shelved his interest and moved on with his assessment of the scene.

Squeezing his eyes shut for a moment, he turned blindly to the other side of the room. As his gaze passed over a certain spot in the room, the intensity of the light came right through his eyelids, making each vein stand out. Then as he craned his neck further still, he inhaled sharply as a second and even more radiant point in the room filled his view with pure white, with only a hint of purple discolouration remaining.

When he opened his eyes again, he’d successfully looked to the other side of the room without blinding himself, though dark spots still danced across his vision. Under what looked to be an amateurish attempt at carving a pew, the guard captain had tried and failed to hide himself. Curiously, a few wayward curlicues of charged mana rose off him like steam.

His survey was complete. Two obstacles, two objectives.

When he removed the goggles, his face settled into a dark glower, directed at nobody in particular, as he listened to the old guy grandstand about how useless everyone else was compared to him.

The smug bastard occasionally plucked away at his fiddle without any real purpose or reason to do so, which pissed Edgar off a little- how blithely the stallion teased at a melody or even just a rhythm, but then all too suddenly cut it off, a tacit admission that yes, the whole endeavour had indeed been pointless.

Then, of course, there was the way that he’d been totally dismissed by just about everypony else in the room. Even Onyx had forgotten about him entirely pretty much as soon as he saw the pegasus, sprawled out in her own blood. It’s not that he was desperate for attention, but to be treated like such a non-entity was a little incensing.

More than anything else, Edgar was beyond irritated by the fact that everypony present was focused on the specific Witch that he’d come here for. First she had to go and get herself kidnapped, and now of course she had to be at the centre of some contrived conspiracy, complete with weird religious types and also a ghostly Alicorn that had yet to reappear since he’d first seen her.

Heaven forbid a griffon get any closure from the potential murderer of his work partner and also tentative friend.

He was also rather angry that nopony else seemed to be concerned for Onyx, even as the battered unicorn shuddered with each shallow breath, the smell of his burnt flesh still hanging about the room. At least the saddlebags that Edgar had tasked him with locating and protecting were safe.

Was it too much to ask for things to be simple for once? For things to go right?

Old guy- Fiddle Boy, Edgar decided he was going to be called- seemed to be done with his preamble, having completed his infuriatingly theatrical walk around the room, complete with over the top gesticulations and dramatic pauses. At one point he’d carefully stepped over the Onyx’s prone form, heavily exaggerating the motion. Edgar really hated this guy.

Now this asshole, who for some reason was exempt from the lashing blows of fire, stood in front of the Witch, holding his instrument aloft in one hoof, the bow in the other.

Was he going to try and stop the mare by playing music at her? Was the fiddle magic? The fact that he had even entertained such a ridiculous thought made Edgar tense up a little more. His forelegs throbbed with a barely contained fury.

The fiddler began to play.

The piece had a rather haunting quality, beginning on a low, minor note. It was closer to a dirge than the normal kind of ditty you’d expect from a fiddler. That being said, there was no speed to it, and with each glacial change from note to note, he found that the simplicity of the melody was oddly disappointing.

Regardless of how underwhelming it seemed to Edgar, the Witch seemed to react immediately- it appeared that something was happening. A shimmering trail spun itself in an incandescent circle, subtly tessellating and arcing with power as it shot upwards without warning and formed into a dome-like structure, tinted by a desaturated brownish red colour.

The oppressive heat on the air felt immediately lessened, as if the source had been cut off. Edgar involuntarily cried out in a panic after his eyes fell upon the crumpled white unicorn, very much on the inside of the ring.

He took an experimental step forward, and while that familiar tendril of flame menaced Onyx’s body until he moved backwards again, the distance he travelled with the first movement was almost double the amount he moved in reverse. Like this, Edgar began to edge closer to the circle, one big stride forward, a small skip backwards.

Then Fiddle Boy began to sing, and it began to dawn on Edgar that the fiddle wasn’t the thing to focus on. With the introduction of the “lyrics”, the time signature changed up, and he played with an increased tempo and fervour, power behind every bow of the strings. Now, the song took on the style of a waltz, bobbing with each sentence.

Edgar was starting to understand. The stallion was using his music to provide a rhythm to his incantations, whatever spell he was casting. A focus.

Movement drew Edgar’s gaze over to the unicorns on the far side of the room- both of them were dragging unconscious ponies towards the left wall, where Edgar now spotted a small door. He made eye contact with the mare just as she made it over the threshold- she blew a raspberry at him, shutting the door behind her.

He was pretty much at the edge of the ring now. From here he could already tell that Onyx’s back was probably going to be permanently scarred, unless he got immediate treatment. Edgar didn’t have to look around to figure out how unlikely that was.

A dim maroon aura of magic burst into existence around Fiddle Boy’s horn, and without faltering in his song, he opened up a pack slung around his shoulders and procured a piece of chalk. Playing all the while, he started to draw esoteric symbols and pentacles, no doubt part of whatever mystical experiment he was conducting.

Experimentally, Edgar lowered his goggles once more, making his way about the perimeter slowly. Whatever the crazy unicorn was doing, it had certainly made observing the visible aspects of the magic far less painful.

Each of the shapes and patterns Fiddle Boy drew lit as he channelled his energy along them, and at first glance it appeared as if large reservoirs of mana were flowing out of him and into the dome, however, aided by the sight of the goggles, Edgar was able to see the secondary perimeter within the first.

In the background, the captain wailed and threw himself through the window, exiting with far less grace than the robed unicorns had.

Concentric circles of luminous chains shimmered in the air, and for a moment, dark crystals superimposed upon the whorls of his horn, crackling with a distinct menace. Edgar could actually recognise a few of the simpler symbols- some parts from his training, others from his experiences in the field.

However, what little was familiar quickly disappeared, incorporated into larger and presumably more powerful amalgamations of the runes, and the song changed up yet again, this time into a full-blown jig, although the gothic trappings of the earlier movements remained.

The griffon’s brow furrowed as he forced himself to focus- what exactly was Fiddle Boy trying to do? There was some variation on a Zebrican protection charm, although the shamanistic predilection for dot painting and laconic squiggles had been exchanged for the smoother lines of the Northern peoples. Was that an important detail, or was it simply a workaround for the limitations of using chalk?

What else was there? Some kind of binding spell? Was he perhaps summoning something, or was he trying to entrap the blazing Witch? A few words in the song stuck out, words of power that bore some kind of base familiarity, thanks in both to his studies and sheer animal instinct. There was a deep thrum that sprung forth in each uttered vowel, and Edgar felt his stomach turn as the notes ran through him.
Edgar cast a quick glance up at the Witch. Had the flames died down a bit since last he’d looked? Her face, now clearly visible, showed her lips had curled into a small smile.

Cogs turning rapidly in his mind, Edgar started to put things together. It was clear that the old stallion was a very talented multicaster, and he was putting together the largest circlet that Edgar had ever witnessed. Occasionally a Witch would combine two or more magical invocations to elicit a different or more powerful effect, although the difficulty and complexity of the interactions between different spells tended to grow exponentially.

Fiddle Boy was threading together a series of at least seven different elements as far as Edgar could tell, and of those seven he only had a grasp of what two of them did. The second spell in the circlet corresponded to the shield. The fifth one, he recognised as a pegasus incantation that in antiquity had been used by the so-called storm-masters, who had been succeeded by normal weather teams, who in turn had been succeeded by Rain Wardens.

~~~

“L-Luna?” Bea’s voice briefly warped as her past form shifted into her lucid one. “What’s going on?” Shivering in the heat of the princess’ embrace, she nonetheless returned the gesture, giving Luna a quick squeeze with both hooves before disentangling herself.

Luna drew herself up to her full height and started proudly, “I told you Beatrix-” but was cut off by the light blue unicorn.

“Just ‘Bea’. Please? Just… just ‘Bea’, for now.” Luna was taken aback by the lack of energy that the usually spunky mare spoke with, but after a moment of pause, she nodded her head in understanding.

“As I said, I am the Princess of Dreams!” Evidently very proud of the title, she smiled at Bea, as if seeking her approval.

“Shit. I thought you were like-” Luna continued to beam as Bea spoke. “Like, ok; I thought that was a joke?” she nervously kicked at the ground with one of her hooves, “Or an innuendo.” She added under her breath.

Luna’s smile was far more intimidating than any amount of childhood trauma that Bea had faced. “What was that?”

“Nothing!” Bea squeaked out, kicking the floor far harder than she had initially intended, and hurting her hoof. “Ouch! Damnit.” Rubbing the sore appendage, she peered up at the princess. “So, you uhh, you can enter people’s dreams?

“Well, yes. Kind of. At least I’m supposed to be able to.” Luna’s tone indicated that there were many questions lingering just behind the forefront of her mind, but she held back, for Bea’s sake. “Bea. You didn’t answer my question. Are you alright?”

Bea titled her head up a tiny fraction to meet Luna’s face. “I… I don’t know.” She hesitated as she looked for the words, and the princess waited patiently. “Seeing some ponies again after all this time… it messed me up a little, Luna.” A gentle hoof stroked Bea’s back, and Luna nodded, muttering affirmations. “Not to mention the whole kidnapping thi-”

“THe wHAT?” Luna’s hoof froze mid stroke. Oh yeah, Bea thought to herself, Luna wasn’t there when that happened.

Bea laughed, shrugging Luna’s foreleg off before comforting her with a few pats on the back. “Not to worry thought. I uhh…” Luna’s expression was comically concerned- shrunken pupils and a slack jaw. “Ah hell. Something happened, didn’t it?” Bea gave her a little shake to snap her out of it. “I don’t suppose you could wake me up?”

“I can certainly try bu-”

“Sweet! Let’s do it!” Bea’s heart thumped in anticipation and she started to roll her neck about in order to work out the knots that had accumulated, despite the fact that her current manifestation had no bearing upon her corporeal form.

Dumfounded, Luna stumbled a little, before steadying herself. “Ok.” She moved closer, until the two mares were face to face. “Umm…” Bea cocked her head at her, squinting a little. “Close your eyes?” Bea obediently complied, and waited for Luna to do her thing to wake her up.

And kept waiting. She blinked one eye open. “Uhh, Luna? What’s the hol-” she only caught a glimpse of the princess’ face before Luna lunged forward with an uncharacteristic ferocity, kissing her; urgent and desperate and- Bea awoke with a gasp, falling to the floor.

“Oh! Gosh.”

~~~

Edgar saw his moment. Kicking off the ground, he javelined through the air with a razor focus. Hitting Fiddle Boy dead on with a flying shoulder check, he looped upwards and wheeled back around- only landing for a moment to grab Onyx in the one claw and Bea in the other. His targes secured, he shot off again, aiming directly at the already partially shattered window. At the last moment, he spun himself about and folded his wings in, clutching the two unicorns to his chest as he exited the building spine first.

Fiddle Boy struggled to his feet just as the spell that he’d been building lost cohesion and fell apart, backfiring, and sending the old stallion flying through a nearby wall.

Performing a corkscrew, Edgar opening his wings and righted himself, gliding out into the night with two rogue unicorns- one of whom was severely injured, and the other one- albeit unintentionally- had caused those injuries. A few days ago, it would have been hard for him to imagine life getting any stranger or more complicated, but now?

Onyx mumbled incoherently in his sleep, and Edgar winced. “Sorry bud. I lost yer new hat.”

The Witch had seemingly snapped out of her stupor because she looked up at him with a quizzical expression. “Hey, uhh…”

“Oh shoot- Uhh… sorry about grabbin’ ya without asking fer permission first, ma’am. But… I figured that ‘twas probably best not to stick around with Fiddle Boy ‘bout to blow.”

Her face scrunched up further, and Edgar realised that perhaps he should work on his phrasing. His cheeks burned a little, and if he wasn’t carrying two flightless ponies a fatal distance above the ground, he would definitely be scratching at the back of his scruff.

“Hmm.” She clicked her tongue. “Aren’t you that guy… that tried to arrest me, like, half a week ago?” He looked at her, deadpan.

“Ok. First off, that was only a lil’ more than a cycle ago. Maybe one and a half. And secondly- yeah, I- I, uhh… was? Look, I’m not gonna lie. That is exactly what we were trying to do.” Reminded of the dead pegasus, Bea cringed, and Edgar chuckled lightly. “Ah well. Life’s funny.”

Bea was becoming increasingly aware of their decreasing altitude. Edgar continued, “In regards to that, I’ve pretty much already resigned, just not officially. I’ve got nothing against you, nor any of yer kin.” She regarded him lazily, which was an impressive feat to pull off while dangling from one of his claws. It was clear she didn’t believe him.

Edgar sighed. “Look. I dun’t really care what you think or do, but can you at least promise to do what you can for my pal before you head off? After all; you were the one that did this to him.” She considered it, and jokingly he added on “Besides, if you ended up killing both of my friends… well, that’d just be cruel.”

“Fine.” He didn’t need to look down to see that her forelegs were crossed and her face was stuck in a indignant pout. “I’ll do what I can.”

“Well then, that’d be just swell.” There was no sound other than the flap of Edgar’s wings. “Say- In the meantime; seeing as we’re chums now an’all…” Bea looked back up at him incredulously. “Mind telling me what’s up with the magic princess ghost?”

“What. How do you know about her?”

Onyx woke up, and burbled deliriously, eager to add to the conversation. “mmmI’m a princeszzzmm.”

“Sure are, bucko. But how about you try and stay still and quiet for me, mmk?” Onyx groaned in pain and complied. They flew a little further, quietly stewing in the oddity of the whole situation. “So anyhoo, is she like, iunno, the source of yer power or somethin’ cool like that? See; I read this one book calle-”

“Please stop talking.”

“Sure thang, boss lady.” Edgar closed his eyes, whistling softly. “Dang, that sounded slick.”

“Shut up!”

14. Delirium and De-Escalation

Cycles of sweet oblivion that were unfortunately interrupted by blurry snapshots of the outside world; this loop had filled most of Onyx’s time for the last few hours.

In a phase of rare- albeit brief- lucidity, the tone was overwhelmingly one of concern, and it was clear that both of the two blobby figures hovering around the edge of his sight were exhausted. Edgar’s voice came from one. Fraught with worry, his accent was far more evident now.

“Fourth-degree? Hell-” the sound of a book clapping shut jarred Onyx into movement, or at least an attempt at it. Weakly, he curled his front left hoof closer to his body. The difference in position was barely noticeable, and his efforts took so long that it was almost impossible for him to tell if he’d moved or not.

The longer he thought about it, the more confused he got, and that beautiful darkness called to him once again, tugging playfully down on his eyelids. Perhaps the position he was in now was actually where he’d started… and the initial position was where the one he’d shifted to?

The griffon came into focus, suddenly dominating Onyx’s view. He lost himself in the colours; the black of the plumage upon Edgar’s crown; the tufty headfeathers that stuck out from the leather cap that he wore. The feathers grew brighter as his gaze travelled downwards- by the time Onyx’s eyes reached the griffon’s chin, they were still rather dark, but if one looked closely, it was readily apparent they’d changed in hue to a deep, rustic brown.

Just around his eye rings, that true blackness returned- a naturally occurring makeup that made the wan green of his irises blossom into a verdant forest. Onyx could think of nothing more enchanting.

A claw wrapped itself around his hoof. “C’mon bud.” The whisper may as well have been a gentle caress of the face to Onyx at that moment. He wanted very much to pour out his heart to the oblivious griffon, more than anything else in the world- but he could barely move, let alone speak.

A new voice broke through. “Please.” That was the mare- the one that Edgar had been looking for. “I understand that you’re worried but- Do. Not. Touch. Him.” Underneath all her grumpiness and bravado, she sounded stressed. Onyx really wanted to give her a hug.

And all too suddenly, his hoof was released, and Edgar moved away. “Yes’m. Sorry’m.”

Onyx wanted to voice his displeasure at this separation but could scarcely manage a moan. All thoughts of hugging the mare had dissipated, replaced with a cloud of vague violence, which soon also scattered, leaving him to sink.

Edgar’s voice brought him back up to the surface. “Now hol’up there a minute, hoss. Ain’t there only three degrees?”

“Look. If it’s a skin level burn, sure, and for the most part, yeah-” a bolt of pain ripped through him, as something prodded at a sensitive area on his withers. “-it’s only a third-degree burn, at worst.”

“Right.”

“But you can see that in some parts…” Onyx felt nothing at all. “Here. It’s gone all the way through the skin and the fatty tissues, damaging the musculature, nerves and even right- here!” She grunted in concentration, “Exposing the bone."

“Oh. Neat, I guess?”

Onyx was struggling to see this revelation as anything even approaching ‘neat’, but then again, he was struggling to see in general.

“So, umm… look, Miss- uhh-”

“Lulamoon.”

“Right. Well…” Edgar paused. “What else can you do for him?”

“More than I’ve done already? Honestly, not much. This level of damage is pretty extensive- it calls for a specialist, and I’m not confident that I can do anything else without making things worse.” She sighed and moved past Onyx. “He’s stable… ish. But he’s not going to get any better unless you get him to a hospital, and soon.”

"Hospital? Well, I 'spose we could head back to town- an' I'm pretty sure Onyx's gang has some kinda deal going on with the locals, so they're probably not gonna turn 'im over to the guards."

"Wait. What do you mean, 'we'?" Bea interjected. "I was just making sure he was stable- I'm not sticking arou-"

“Weeeellll shit.” Edgar yawned over the sound of her complaints. “Let’s get goin’ then.”

Bea was obviously not on board with this idea, but the mare’s ongoing protests and the subsequent laconic responses from Edgar were totally lost to Onyx, his momentary bubble of consciousness popping and sending him careening back into sleep.

~~~

She leaned into the warmth of the fur to escape from the windchill, half-heartedly scratching at the blisters just above her hoof where she’d be chained. “Ugh.” Edgar glanced up at Bea’s exclamation, chancing a tiny smile.

“What’s the matter, Ms. Lulamoon?”

She idly let her eyes wander down to meet his, rolling them as she took stock of his expression. “Just Bea is fine, Edgar. I’m not some stuffy matron or a schoolmarm.”

Satisfied with the response, his smile stretched further across his face. “Shucks, I dunno,” he stroked his chin thoughtfully before fixing his sight on his destination, “with the way you was going earlier, ya coulda fooled me, Bea.”

They flew in relative silence, and although she didn’t say it, she was thankful that Edgar had let her sit atop his back, instead of being roughly clutched in one of his claws, like she had been earlier. Besides, that less than gentle treatment probably hadn’t been too great for Onyx’s injuries either- hence Edgar was now clutching the stallion to his chest, both arms wrapped around him in a bear hug.

“In all seriousness though, I’m glad that you’ve been so reasonable ‘bout all this.” Edgar remarked, focused on the dark blotches on the landscape that marked out the town ahead of them. Then the subdued mirth left his voice, and his brow hardened a little- “But once we’ve got Onyx looked after… me an’ you need to have a chat, ya hear?”

“Me an-” She looked at him in disbelief. “Edgar, it’d be ‘you and I’.”

“That’s beside the damn point!” as Edgar rose his voice, his entire body tensed up, and consequently he squeezed Onyx a little too hard, eliciting a groan. The griffon’s demeanour immediately softened back up, and he subtly rocked the unicorn’s body as he whispered to him. “Woah- easy there, bud. ’m sorry. Just- just go back to sleep, mmk?”

When Edgar was finished, he craned his neck back around to Bea, who was wearing a sly grin of her own now. “What?” He hissed, not wanting to raise his voice.

“You two are adorable. How'd you meet?”

“Naw Bea, it ain’t like that.” She kept looking at him, staring while maintaining the same smug expression. “I swear, it ain’t!” She tilted her head to the side as if considering something, tapping her chin delicately with a hoof. Edgar scoffed, before snapping his head round to look at something in the distance. “And don’t go changin’ the subject, all sneaky like.”

“Hmm.”

A scowl overtook Edgar’s features. “Hey! Whassat supposed to mean?” he grumbled, half to himself, before pointedly looking back up at her. “Dun’t forget; the only thing between you, and a very long fall, is me.”

She tittered into the frog of her uninjured hoof. “I’m just saying; if it ‘ain’t like that’,” she imitated Edgar’s voice, exaggerating his accent. “Then maybe… you should put a bit more effort in.” He blinked, and for a moment Bea felt the hair on her coat rise up, and her muscles seized up in anticipation of retaliation.

Then he snorted, and let out a little chuckle.

“Whatever you say, lady. Regardless, all I wanted to say is dun’t go running off, alright?” The distant twinkle of the lights intensified, and the hospital grew more defined as they approached. Edgar continued, deadly serious. “We’ve still got other matters to attend to, and the score’s not even just yet.”

“Sure. Fine. I’m not going anywhere.”

“An’ what was that about correcting my grammar?” It was Edgar’s turn to imitate his passenger. “Well then Missus ‘I’m not a schoolmistress’, or whatever it was that ya said,” his falsetto was definitely lacking, but it got the point across.

She laughed. “I do not sound like that. And besides, I said schoolmarm- that's like, a totally different thing to a schoolmistress.”

“You sure know an awful lot 'bout schools for somepony who's not a teacher." Edgar needled playfully, "But hey, whatever you say... ma’am.”

Their soft laughter pealed out, and by time the silence had returned, both relished it. The awkward discomfort of the first flight had now been almost entirely replaced by quiet camaraderie. They reached the hospital with little drama, and Edgar set about tracking down the same doctor from earlier, while Bea looked for somewhere to get a late snack.

9. Can't Keep A Good Mare Down... For Long.

Bea woke to the taste of bile; an acrid taint in her mouth and an unpleasant feeling of instability just below her sternum, as if something was just waiting for its chance to surge back up her throat. Her hooves were sore, and felt tight. Shackles? She half-heartedly shook one of her forelegs, and her suspicions were confirmed by the resonant sound of metal on metal. The sound alone was enough to bring tears to her eyes as it pierced her hearing, scraping at her tender brain.

She found herself in darkness, until she opened her eyes. As they fluttered open, pain flooded her senses- it felt for all the world like there was a crack in her head, and no matter how tightly she shut her eyes, the blissful darkness from before would not return.

The lights tore into her from every angle- brightness like this was extremely unnatural, and in her current state it was blinding. Everything was on fire, and the flames were starting to lick up the walls, threatening to consume the entire room.

And then, in a single moment, the inferno was extinguished. Relief washed in, the cool soothing her pain. And then she heard what had to be the worst possible sound in the world.

“Hey kid.” The mare’s voice was deep, scratchy, and without a single shred of emotion. With each one of Her hoofsteps, Bea found herself losing clarity as a new wave of discomfort stabbed into her head. Of course She would be here. “You look like shit.”

Finally brave enough to try opening her eyes once again, Bea met Her face. “Josephine.” she weakly croaked the name. Jo cocked her head, before clapping her hooves once. The lights sprang on once more at full intensity and Bea let out a mostly silent scream.

~~~

Edgar had keenly surveyed the scene below him. The comatose witch had been hastily bound, and from there, three of the robed figures had carried her off. The other three had begun to pick up their wounded from where they’d fallen. A few re-joined with the other group to help escort the witch, but two of them needed to be seen by a doctor fairly urgently, forcing the party to separate into two.

There were six ponies guarding his target, but only four in the other group- and only two of them would actually be capable of doing anything. They would probably all end up going back to the same place. Edgar made another choice.

The two ponies left to carry their injured- one was clearly the stronger of the two, larger and evidently accustomed to lugging heavy weights about, as he easily picked up his charge- with no concern spared for any vertebral injuries that his comrade might have suffered after being flung about like a ragdoll.

The other was almost shrimp-like in comparison. But the hem of his robe was notably yellow, singling him out as different to the rest of the individuals, with their monochromatic uniforms. Perhaps some kind of lieutenant? Somepony who knew something?

He spared a final glance at the Witch, before refocusing himself. He stood vigilant, a feathered gargoyle, waiting for his new target to be isolated.

~~~

“How are you feeling?” Jo had gone back to pacing, and while Bea’s psyche shattering headache had dulled, the pain was still there. She had screwed her eyes shut, but the respite it brought was mostly psychological. “Hey.” When Jo spoke again, it came out as a growl, and soon she became aggravated in her impatience. “Hey! Look at me when I’m talking!” Bea turned her head away from the noise, flattening her ears. It didn’t help. “Look at me.” Jo audibly sneered and the cruel vocalisation hung in the air. Sluggishly, Bea tried to crawl away from her aggressor, chains clinking and she half-slid, half-walked her leaden body a meagre distance.

Jo thundered across the room, grabbed Bea roughly by the chin and roared at her, spittle flying from her mouth. “LOOK AT ME!” The agony peaked. Bea lunged forward, her chains squealing in protest as she strained against them. The terrible grinding sound of the metal pushed her even further, and the metal buckled and gave way entirely, and she lunged blindly at the mare in front of her.

Bea’s head collided with Jo’s, and the headbutt sent both mares careening backwards- however, for Bea, her mind went completely blank as she discovered a new height of suffering. A tiny bit of blood trickled down her horn. Jo drunkenly swayed from side to side, then staggered forward as the shock wore off, letting out a guttural cry as she furiously delivered a massive kick to Bea’s forehead.

Bea’s brain shorted out.

~~~

Onyx Hunt was not strong enough to carry two ponies’ weight on his own. Keeping himself up was hard enough most of the time, and carrying another pony seemed absolutely absurd. In an ideal world, Onyx would just be able to use his magic to do all the heavy lifting.

Tunks had told him to stop faffing about, ignoring Onyx’s protestations, and the burlier unicorn had already carried Silver out to the mouth of the alley. “Wait up!” Onyx called out in desperation, tripping over a misshapen cobble and dropping his injured comrade. Tunks kept walking.

“Shit!” He pushed aside the unconscious stallion and went to swing at a dumpster in frustration, missing completely and falling hard on his shoulder. Scowling, he got up, dusted himself off and turned to face the task in front of him again. It was late enough; maybe if he used a small spell to help things along, nopony would notice? He pulled back his hood and turned around, already resolute in his decision to use magic to make things easier.

An imposing figure towered above him. Dark, feathered and muscular, the griffon spoke so casually that Onyx almost forgot to panic. “S’ your friend hurt?” he drawled in a slightly exaggerated accent.

“I-” Onyx fell silent as the catbird placed his talons on his shoulder. This stranger, he thought, could very easily shred him apart.

“Yeah look; I’m not gonna ask. D’ya need help, or not?”

Onyx squeaked, completely unsure of what to do. “Yes!” Shit. He was going to be in so much trouble if he didn’t figure out a way to fix this. The griffon picked Tulip up with ease, slinging the unconscious pony over his back.

“Let’s get goin’ then. Hospital’s this way, ain’t it?”

“Uh-huh, sure.” Onyx looked around desperately for a solution. A glint in the darkness catches his eye, and the goddesses deliver him the answer to his problem. A ritual knife, discarded during the scuffle with the witch. Lips curling up into a snarl, he shakily levitated the crooked instrument and sent it flying forward with a burst of speed. The griffon turned around, letting the knife soar past him harmlessly, lodging itself firmly in the bricks. Onyx blinked.

“You…” As the griffon turned to face him, Onyx braced himself for a painful death. “You didn’t answer the question, friend.” If the feathered behemoth had noticed the unsuccessful attempt on his life, he showed absolutely no sign of it.

“Buh?”

“Well, y’know. Twas a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ question. A vague affirmation doesn’t exactly help.” Edgar smiled warmly at Onyx, who at this point in time could only fixate on how sharp the griffon’s beak was.

Well, we all have to die some time, he thought. Might as well be now.

~~~

Chains surrounded her, the cold kiss of metal upon her coat stinging as she stirred. Having already demonstrating her ability to free herself from her earlier restraints, her captors had taken the easiest approach to rectifying the situation and had completely bound her with the metal links, preventing even the slightest movement of her head, thus forcing her vision to be locked onto a small portion of her surroundings.

At least she’d been moved away from the eye-searing room from before. Her head still pounded, but it somehow felt better than it had before, even though it should have been agonising.

The bench she was chained to was more or less tucked into the corner of a room that had been haphazardly furnished to give the impression of a hospital- her area was separated from the rest of the room by a few sheets of fabric that had been inexpertly sewn together and hung from a rail. In her immediate vicinity, there were a hoofful of machines that she could see with her limited vision- they all served indeterminable purposes, and some hooked directly onto her while others stood freely.

A fly landed on her muzzle, settling for but a moment and then taking off again in the span of a few seconds. From her left came a steady tick, simultaneously providing an almost hypnotic sense of calm while aggravating her further. Another minute passed.

The silence begged to be filled, but Bea refused to speak, instead maintaining an intense focus as she waited for the inevitability of an interruption.

The curtains in front of her were no doubt intended to provide her with a sense of privacy, although the fact that they were obviously ripped out of somepony’s bathroom ruined the effect of the makeshift infirmary.

Doors squeaked open out of her sight, and swung shut, swishing as they brushed against each other. A set of light hoofsteps moved closer, accompanied with a light swish of fabric as the folds of their robes rubbed past each other. Whoever it was, they moved so lethargically, with such consideration, that it had taken them a few minutes to reach her as they set about the room, no doubt attending to countless other matters before they finally deigned to reveal themselves to her.

Without any fanfare, the curtains were thrown back, revealing a rather grey stallion, whose weariness was apparent by his unkempt facial hair and the prevalent bags under his eyes. It would have been difficult for Bea to recognise him, were it not for his vestments, priestly and noble. Unlike his body and spirit, his garb was carefully maintained, and not a single crease could be spotted along his robes- the caduceus upon his medallion shone, even in the dim lamplight, and his collar was impeccably straight.

She affixed him with a cold glare. “Hello, Regent.” Not missing a beat, Solemn Cray meandered over to her side, checking the dressings on her wounds, the readings on the monitors, before coming to stand squarely in her view.

“Lady Lulamoon.” Even with the chains, she spasmed at his use of the title, causing a cascade of metallic noise as her innumerable bindings collided with each other.

Shaking his head, he reached gently forward to push a lock of her mane back behind her ear. “Apologies… Beatrix.” Satisfied, he stepped back a little, observing her face. “It has been such a long time, my dear.” He mused thoughtfully, finally stepping away to grab something just outside of her peripheral vision. As he came back over, in his hoof was a small bottle. He proffered them forward, as if she was capable of doing anything but staring at him. He quirked an eyebrow at her, feigning bemusement at her treatment of him.

He shook the bottle lightly, and her eyes darted to it, and then back to him. “It’s medicine. To help with your… instability.” He pulled up a chair and sat, thoughtfully gesticulating with the bottle as he spoke. “The pain.” The pills hit the sides of the container. “The nausea.” Rattle; a pattering drumbeat, infuriating in its lack of resolution. “The… hallucinations?” The room fell silent for a moment as he stilled himself. “Or perhaps, you- like the others- consider them to be visions?”

He looked at her, obviously displeased with receiving the silent treatment. “You do know, I had to fight them over leaving your mouth unbound. It would be a terrible shame, if- in the end- you didn’t even bother to use it.”

Placing the bottle back on the counter, he returned with a poultice of some description, and began to apply it to the base of her horn, patting her gently on the back as he did so. “I even argued that there was little point to sealing your magic, but they gave me no heed on that front. It’s not like their doctor would know anything, would he? Pah.” His treatment was soothing, and she did appreciate it, even if he was still actively keeping her there.

“What. Did they do to me?” A spool of chains around her back foreleg began to unravel. Cray quickly retightened them, fixing her with a confused look.

“I beg your pardon?” his voice, low and dry, briefly grew ever so slightly louder.

She spat the words out, and another “When you kidnapped me. Again.” He sniffed, letting out a one syllable laugh as a short exhalation. He tapped rapidly at the floor, shaking his head in a show of mild amusement. “When they used that spell back there- the thing that knocked me down-” He couldn’t help himself as he let out a little chuckle. More chains hit the floor, slapping heavily at the side of the bench as they fell. “When they forced me, to feel the pain of an entire. Fucking. Lifetime.” She tried desperately to call upon her magic, to no avail. Instead, it merely collected within her- a pool of spiritual energy and mana, heat and power, racing towards a crescendo. She desperately longed for release, but none came.

His contained laughter hurt her; filled her with something beyond anger. It was a sadness- like mourning. More chains slipped off, and if one were to inspect them closely, they would note that the links themselves had expanded; barely perceptible steam still rising off them.

“Beatrix, darling.” He laughed as he shuffled back over. “The acolytes didn’t even have the chance to complete their ritual.” He paused halfway as he stooped to collect the fallen chains. “You did that to yourself! You have neglected your role for far too long, and the universe itself is punishing you for resisting destiny!” He grabbed a bundle of chains- immediately cursing and dropping them as they burnt his flesh.

Bea was glowing.

“Nopony made you kidnap me.”

The chains came off in a shower as she stood, some of them having begun to melt.

“Things were going just fine until your cult came back into my life.” She strode forward, even as her skin began to blister and crack; even as heat rose off her body in waves. “A loving family-”

The Regent fumbled over his words as he tripped over on a cart of medical supplies, falling backwards. “WE loved you- even… even if sometimes it hurt! And besides- this never would have happened, if you hadn’t ran!”

Her advance continued. “-I have friends now, not many- sure… but enough. Real friends, not- zealous sycophants, who only saw me as a means to gain more power.”

Eyes widening, he scrambled backwards across the floor, clutching at his injured hoof. In an act of desperation, he lit his horn, using telekinesis to try and wrap some of the remaining bindings tighter around her hoof. Even then, a bead of sweat trickled down her face, releasing an immediate whirl of steam as it hit those remaining chains, and the link tethering her to the wall was cleaved in two.

“Beatrix please! Be reasonable! You’re going to hurt yourself!”

He could only look on in horror as she advanced, the chains he had made an effort to tighten, now attached to nothing but themselves. Rivulets of crimson started to seep down the hoof where the chains met her skin.

“BEATRIX! WAIT!” He panted out, almost screaming. He could hear ponies outside. Please,he prayed. Please, just stay out there.

“I’d even managed to forget most of the shit you guys pulled over the course of my life- I have a job! Purpose, and people that depend upon me!”

“Look at your hoof!” He pointed wildly, his protestations falling on deaf ears.

“I am happy now! AWAY FROM YOU!”

“DAMNITALL, GIRL! YOU’RE MELTING!” The old stallion clutched at a medical tray like a shield, knowing that it would do nothing to help him. Momentarily, she relented, registering her hoof- the chains cooling for a moment, stopping their gradual descent inwards.

Then the door burst open, panicked and angry shouts filling the room. Bea combusted in a flash of light, and she howled in pain as she became one with the metal.

She was right on top of him now and the heat wafting off her scalded him, writhing limply under her fiery form, embers sparking but failing to catch in his robes and mane.

He braced for an impact that never came. The consumed witch bolted past him, breaking out into the hall with a scream that was soon echoed by those around her.

Mentally, he chided himself for thinking told you so, and after a minute passed, he peered out the doorway, observing the wake of her destruction. Nopony was dead, as far as he could tell. He smiled, a wan thing that betrayed his weariness.