Nightwatch – The Elements of Destruction
By SFaccountant

Chapter 6
Pain

???

Gear Works peered closely at a lens, his eye lights shrinking. It was clutched in the tip of his servo arm’s pincer, and possessed a pattern of micro-laser etchings along its circumference. Every few seconds a tiny laser pulse would come from the emitter in Gear’s bionic hoof, making an adjustment to the component utterly indistinguishable to the naked eye.

Eventually the Dark Acolyte nodded, and then carefully turned the lens parallel with the floor and placed it in a steel receptacle. The receptacle closed, its steel claws gripping the lens and pushing it firmly into place. A gentle thrumming came from the device as current started to flow, and a light slowly started to build beneath the lens.

“By the will of the Omnissiah does this engine turn,” Gear Works chanted, slowly climbing down the scaffolding at the edge of the machine. “Light to life. Life to fuel. Fuel to spark. And now the spark will tow the very stars. The circle is complete.”

Gear Works climbed down to the base of the machine. It was a towering construction, stretching from the floor almost twenty feet up to the skylight that covered the room. Hissing pipes and clicking cogs covered it from top to bottom, and near the bottom of the machine its core rumbled gently, hungering for power. Whispers and mumbles came from the spectators in the room, some expressing doubt at a volume he was very much intended to overhear, but the Dark Acolyte did not falter.

“Behold, Machine God, the apotheosis of your infinite wisdom. Awaken, spirits of the engine, and let all bask in your perfection. The device is primed. The stars… are ours.” Gear Works raised a hoof and flicked a switch.

The rumbling intensified, and the floor started to tremble as the machine powered up further. The floor tiles shifted and small cracks began to appear underhoof. Several of the ponies spectating gulped and backed away, and one started pleading openly for the device to be stopped. He was unheeded.

One by one, the cogs and wheels on the machine’s exterior began to turn. The hum within the device built higher, and the lens at the top of it pulsed. Gear Works looked up at the skylight, and then intoned a final prayer.

“Bless us with your magnificent function, Starlash Engine. By fire, steel, the divine motive force, and the will of the Omnissiah, you are active at last.”

A fantastic beam of power lanced upward from the Starlash Engine. It sliced through the skylight, instantly reducing the feeble armorglass barrier – only recently upgraded to protect against rapid assault and infiltration – to a bluish mist. The rumble and whirring was replaced by a deep thrum that every pony felt run up their hooves and through their bones, but seemed to slowly stabilize.

Gear Works stared upwards for several seconds, and then slowly turned around. Princess Celestia stood there, ahead of the other spectators. Her expression was one of hesitant, but fervent hope: as if she was exuberant about what had happened here but did not allow herself to believe it.

“It is done,” Gear Works said calmly. “The Starlash Engine will restore and maintain the gravitational circuit that has burdened you for millennia. The 24-hour solar cycle no longer requires the intervention of equine magic, only trivial mechanical maintenance. ” He bowed his head. “You are free, Princess.”

Princess Celestia raised a hoof to her chest, and her wings quickly rose to wipe away tears of joy. “Incredible… to think… that the gifts of technology could do… THIS!”

Gear Work’s father Carbide stepped forward from the crowd of spectators. His grim face was set in a very slight smile, and his eyes gleamed with pride as he placed a hoof on Gear’s shoulder. “Son, you really did it. This is your finest work yet!”

“I’m actually more impressed by the fusion reactor you built into the mountainside,” mused Raven, Celestia’s unicorn assistant. “Endless, fully sustainable energy to power the city and any future expansions or modifications we desire! Quite exemplary.”

“I’m still quite delighted by the fleet of drone gunships you designed and constructed for us,” added Kibitz, Celestia’s other attendant. “They can drop flame munitions on our enemies or flower blossoms to delight the citizens! Marvelous machines!” His mustache wiggled happily.

Princess Celestia’s smile dimmed slightly. “I am… less a fan of the gunships.”

“Princess, there are only two buttons and they’re very clearly marked. I still don’t know how you mixed them up. Nopony is THAT hopeless with technology.”

“Yes, well, I’ll leave you all to your duties. I must return to Ferrous Dominus,” Gear Works said, turning to head for the entrance to the hall.

“But you’ve just finished! Please, at least stay the night and rest,” Celestia requested, sounding slightly exasperated. “The only occasions on which you appear in Canterlot are to construct these grand devices that improve the entire city, and then the moment they are switched on you speed back to your workshops. We have much to celebrate, Acolyte Gears, and would be honored by your presence.”

“It is an honor I must decline, Princess,” the cyborg replied airily, waving his servo arm’s pincer. “Your kind words are celebration enough. My place is in my blessed forge. Goodbye.”

Gear Works turned around again, but was interrupted by a tittering laugh. “You would really spurn a royal invitation? Oh, how far you’ve come, tinkerer!”

A strange chill ran down his spine, and Gears hesitated. He looked back at the spectators. They were milling about obliviously, already accepting his departure. Princess Celestia seemed to be getting lectured about something by Raven. Carbide Gear was toying with the control panel to the Starlash Engine. It wasn’t clear who had spoken.

Then the small crowd seemed to part, a dark figure emerging from it like a stalking panther might step out of the bushes. Penumbra Shard strolled across the room, her eyes lazily sweeping back and forth. Her gaze lingered on Princess Celestia, and the Moon Mage visibly struggled to contain a hateful sneer. Then she finally turned a small smile onto Gear Works.

“So this is what you fantasize about? Machines that control the very sun and royal ponies begging to favor you? How dull and indulgent,” Penumbra said with a smirk.

“I’m… I’m sorry? Shouldn’t you be back in Ferrous Dominus, Miss Shard?” Gears asked.

“Hmm… Yes, I suppose I should be,” she agreed, approaching the cyborg. “But we have some business here, don’t we?”

“… No? I’m going to say no, we don’t.” Gear Works turned away. “I must return to the forge. If you have a request of me you can route it through the proper channels via the Dark Mechanicus.”

“I’ll take my appointment here and now, actually,” Penumbra said, her horn gleaming with magic.

Gears yelped as magic tendrils slithered up from the floor and wrapped around his legs before lifting him into the air, immobilizing him entirely. Gasps and shouts for help suddenly came from the other ponies in the room as they started to scatter, desperately abandoning the room. Princess Celestia was no less shocked by Penumbra’s appearance and aggression, her wings spreading and her head lifting in panic like a startled swan.

“Help! Guards!”

“Everypony run!”

“I’ve seen enough hentai to know where this is going!”

Celestia’s response was somewhat more firm. “What is the meaning of this?! Put him down this instant!” The Princess demanded. “Don’t make me call Twilight! Then you’ll be sorry!”

Penumbra sneered and directed a sliver of magic toward the mighty white alicorn, her eyes glowing bright turquoise. A similarly colored crystal erupted from the ground at Celestia’s hooves, punching a sword-like tip into her chest and driving upward. The Princess of the sun was ripped apart in the blink of an eye, and the other ponies’ panicked shouts turned to horrified shrieks as royal blood painted the walls and floors.

Penumbra hesitated, her eyes dimming. “Huh… That was… easy. And quite cathartic, actually. I should find a way to do this more often.” Her horn pulsed again and she returned her gaze to Gear Works. “But enough fun and games.”

“What do you think you’re doing?! What do you want?!” Gear Works cried.

“I want to know what the Lieutenant told you,” Penumbra explained, trying to shut out the wailing ponies behind her. “He told you every-Oh for moon’s sake! There’s too much noise in here!”

Her horn flashed again as she turned around, and bright, silvery rays of light started shooting into the panicking mob. Where the beams touched flesh the victims burned away almost instantly, their screams fading away into ghastly echoes as their bodies turned to ash. One after another the equines were incinerated with cold efficiency, and in roughly a minute the room was silent at last.

Gear Works struggled against the magic bonds around his legs, snapping at them with his servo arm and scraping at them with his dataspike, but such efforts were futile. The tendrils simply regenerated as fast as he could damage them, and his legs couldn’t budge them. His optic lights widened when Penumbra Shard turned her gaze back to him, and a string of incoherent whimpers came from his mask. He didn’t know what to say or do. The Dark Acolyte could barely comprehend what had just happened.

“Now, where was I?” Penumbra asked, tapping a hoof to her chin. “Ah, that’s right. Nacht said you demanded to know what we were doing here and managed to press Dusk into telling you. She didn’t go into detail, however. What do you know?”

“What? Know about… what?” Gears asked.

“Don’t play coy with me, tinkerer,” Penumbra hissed. Her eyes flashed again, staring directly at the trapped stallion.

Gear Works jolted as his thoughts sharpened and the surroundings started to blur. This was not Canterlot. He was dreaming. All the ponies that had just died were figments of his mind, except – quite unfortunately – the unicorn in front of him.

“Wait… this isn’t real! I’m asleep, and you’re casting a magic projection into my dreams somehow!” Gears said, his eye lights narrowing. “If I’m dreaming, that means you can’t hurt me! I’ll tell you nothing!”

Penumbra quirked an eyebrow, and then her horn flashed again.

“HRAAAUAGHUAGH!!” Gear Works screamed as one of his biological legs was twisted and crushed by the ebon vector. The pain felt exactly like the real thing, an experience which he’d had the extraordinary misfortune to have more than once.

“How about now?” Penumbra Shard asked with a pleasant little smile. “I think you’ll find the rules to your dreams are a little different when I’m involved, tinkerer.”

After a few seconds, there was no response from the Dark Acolyte except for ragged, heavy breathing. With a slight turn of her head the magic tendril tightened again around the pulped limb, and Gear’s howl of agony again filled the rapidly dissolving dreamscape.

“All right… All right…” Gears whimpered. The ebon vectors seemed to have a way of vibrating against the ravaged nerves of his skin, making the already horrific experience even more painful. He’d been terrified of them ever since he’d seen them deployed in battle, and it seemed his fear was well founded.

“Well? Out with it,” the Moon Mage demanded.

“He told me… about the Elements of Destruction. About the tree… about how the Element of Carnage was stolen and the… Element of Terror was lost,” the Dark Acolyte explained through pained gasps.

“What else?”

“About… the Cult of Lunar Ascendance… and its secret plot against Canterlot. And… And it’s subsequent failure.”

Penumbra frowned, but had no retort.

“He told me that the mare that attacked us… Banshee… that she was to be the Element of Terror, but perished during the quest.”

This startled Penumbra. She recoiled, her eyes wide. “REALLY. I didn’t think he’d want to open that particular wound. How much did he tell you?”

Gears gulped, finally feeling the pain dim across his senses. “Just that he is VERY certain of her demise. He explained no further.”

“I see.” Penumbra stepped closer, peering up into his eye lights so that her horn was almost touching the hose of his respirator mask. “Now, then… what do you plan to DO with this information?”

“Nothing,” Gears rasped, “I simply wanted to know why we were risking so much, and perhaps also about the strange powers. It was for my own curiosi-”

“Liar,” the Moon Mage interrupted before her horn flashed with lightning.

Gears shrieked as lightning coursed through him, searing his flesh and bionics in equal measure. Several components within his torso popped from the amperage, and the cyborg’s body shuddered and vomited sparks onto the floor. He coughed painfully as the flow of electricity ceased, smoke seeping from the rips in his hosing.

“Now I’ll bet you’re thinking: If I can feel real pain in a dream without waking up, does that mean I can die in one?” Penumbra said, her tone shifting to that of a hall lecturer. “There are many instances of ponies who suffer some mysterious, sudden complication in their sleep and never wake again, aren’t there? What do you think?”

“I… I compiled the story into a dataparcel. It is-” Gears coughed harshly again, feeling blood well up his throat. “It… It’s inloaded into the Strider’s transmitter already. I did it the moment Backfire returned.”

Penumbra arched an eyebrow. “Go on.”

“When… When the Strider returns to Ferrous Dominus, the dataparcel will enter the noosphere, undetected and cipher-locked. It will remain this way until my death has been registered, at which point the dataparcel will open and flag several sysmech adjudicators.”

Penumbra struggled with some of the terminology, but decided she had the gist of it. “So if you die, then the secrets of the Elements of Destruction get dumped across Ferrous Dominus. Is that it?”

“Affirmative” Gear Works gasped weakly.

“Clever. But of course, I can’t let that happen, can I?” Penumbra smiled broadly, tossing her long, lavender mane over her shoulder. “Neither you or your parcel will make it back to Ferrous Dominus. It’s kind of unfortunate, actually. You seem like a very useful pony and your death will probably make Dusk rather sad. Luckily, I can think of a few ways to address the latter problem.” Her smile turned rather sultry, and her tongue wet her lips.

Gear’s visor flickered off and on, beset by static. “You… You’re different from them,” he said, as if under a sudden realization.

“I suppose I am. Much prettier, for one thing,” she fluttered her eyelashes. “Depending on how much Dusk told you about the Moon Mages, you may be aware of some other slight differences. What of it?”

“You’re not here for the Element of Terror, are you?” Gear Works asked, his voice much stronger than before. “The Lieutenant was right about you after all. What are you trying to accomplish? Why would you be so worried about the Company learning of this mission?”

“Well that’s a silly question,” the Moon Mage tittered into a hoof. “And a pointless one. I’m not the one being interrogated here, tinkerer.” She raised a hoof to the side of his head, drawing it down the rubbery fabric of his hood. “Besides, you will not remember this encounter when you awake.”

Her eyes pulsed with light, and Gear Works shuddered. The surrounding dreamscape, already blurred to the point of being unintelligible, peeled away entirely. It was just Gear Works and Penumbra Shard in a dark, empty void, the former entangled with magic bindings and the latter looming over him with her eyes and horn gleaming.

“Wake up, tinkerer. You have one more task to accomplish before you cease being useful to me.”

Then Penumbra’s body rippled in the darkness, and Gear’s vision faded away.

Badlands
ERROR: Pathing augur malfunction detected… Geolocation failure

Gear Works awoke with a groan, his optics booting up and his internal motors spinning to life. Phantom pains burned in his bio-limbs, causing a sense of lingering agony that was quite distinct from the actual soreness from sleeping on the rocky, uneven ground. They had sheltered in a shallow cave over the course of the day, and it did not surprise him that the bat ponies did not carry anything equivalent to blankets or sleeping bags.

The cave entrance was wide open but not facing any road, and enough light filtered inside to see even without low-light optics. Gears Works checked his chronometer. Though they had slept for most of the day, it would still be a few hours until sundown. Satisfied with a brief system check – although perplexed by the phantom pains – he turned toward the other occupants of the cave.

Dusk Blade laid on his side near the very back, one wing drawn over his face to shield it from the light of day. Gloom Fang was splayed out behind him, with his head resting against Dusk’s neck in an affectionate, comfortable nuzzle. It was kind of cute, although Gears was certain Gloom hadn’t been there when he’d shut down for the night.

Gear Works produced a strange, shrill noise through his mask, and then cleared his throat when Dusk flinched. “Lieutenant, it is precisely 17:01:48. If we want to make optimal time on the next phase, we should wake the others and prepare to go.”

“O-Okay! Okay. I’m up. I’m getting up,” Dusk blinked his eyes repeatedly, and then slowly stood up. He yawned, showing off his curved, pointed canine teeth, and then frowned down at Gloom Fang.

Gloom had not been awakened by either Gear’s alarm or his pillow moving, and a nasal snort came from the bigger stallion as he curled up. Dusk stretched out a wing and slapped him with it across the face. Gloom flinched, his ears perked, and then his eyes fluttered open, staring up at the ceiling.

“Get up, get a drink, and then go get the mares. We’re moving out,” Dusk ordered.

Gloom clumsily staggered upright, and then saluted with a wing. “Right. Yes. Got it.” Without his mask on and being half-conscious, Gears noticed that all four of his eyes were open and blinking sleepily in random sequence.

“Also,” Dusk narrowed his eyes and lowered his head. “I told you to stop cuddling me in your sleep.”

Gloom’s ears pinned back and he offered a sheepish grin. “Sorry! I don’t do it on purpose! You’re just so… y’know… warm.”

“Just go get the mares, you dope,” Dusk grunted.

Gloom Fang nodded and closed his lower eyes, and then he rushed out into the daylight. Dusk watched him go, and then pulled a canteen from a small sack lying against the wall. He unscrewed the cap with his wing, and then took several long gulps.

“So, how’d you sleep?” the bat pony asked as he screwed the cap back on.

“Adequately,” Gears replied, “and you?”

“Very well, actually. I grew up in a cave, so this sort of thing is kind of comforting to me,” Dusk admitted. Then his ear twitched as a tennis ball-sized spider started descending toward him from above, hanging by a single silken thread of webbing. “Anyway, I need to talk to you for a little bit before we join the others.”

“About what?” Gears asked.

“About confronting me like you did yesterday,” Dusk said with a mild frown.

Then he suddenly twisted his head about, snapping up the spider in his jaws. Gear Works recoiled, although he was more startled by the speed and suddenness than the prospect of Dusk eating a live arachnid. He became more unsettled when the Lieutenant faced him again though; the spider made a stomach-churning series of pops and crunches as Dusk chewed, and its legs were sticking out from his teeth and twitching. Dusk Blade quickly swallowed his impromptu breakfast and then coughed to clear his throat.

“Sorry, that might have been a familiar. Anyway, I want to start by saying I’m NOT mad. I’m just a little discouraged. All right? I’m not used to having my authority brushed aside, and I don’t like having it happen in front of my squad.” He held up a hoof to forestall any rebuttal. “But also! I get it! You’ve been roped along on this crazy quest that you didn’t know anything about, and you deserved an answer! So it’s partially my fault.”

“My presence, participation, and insufficient briefing are ALL your fault, actually,” Gear Works corrected. “There have been a few tactical lapses since then that may be blamed on other ponies, but as you are the highest-ranking soldier, responsibility still lay with you.”

“Look, you’re not WRONG, but…” the thestral made a frustrated grunt. “Gears, you know I respect you a lot, but-”

“You show unusual appreciation for my work, which I am thankful for,” Gear Works interrupted. “I have seen little evidence of ‘respect’ from you.”

“They’re the same thing!”

“That is but one of the faulty social premises that are at the root of these uncomfortable conversations.”

Dusk didn’t reply for several seconds, and when he did he sounded supremely annoyed. “Okay, this? What you’re doing right here? This is what I’m talking about. This is a problem. You have to stop fighting me on everything!”

“Even when you lie to me?” Gears asked, his optic lights narrowing.

“Yes, actually. That would be super helpful,” Dusk admitted, “but what I really need here is for you to stop challenging me in front of my soldiers. Not only is it embarrassing for me, but they’re REALLY mad about it. Just speak to me privately if you have a problem or want to hold the entire mission hostage for personal reasons, all right?”

Gear Works stared at Dusk for a few seconds, judging the thestral’s expression. Gears didn’t feel inclined to grant the request at first, but upon reflection it was surprisingly earnest of him to make the appeal directly. Dusk was also being honest about his reasons, although Gears suspected there was something else at stake besides his personal sense of authority.

“All right Lieutenant Blade, you’ve made your point,” Gear Works said reluctantly. “I will refrain from challenging you in front of the others, but do not suppose that this means I will comply with your orders unquestioned. You are still not my superior and still requisitioned my services under false pretenses.”

“I get it! I’m sorry!” the thestral replied, grinning while he clapped his hooves together in front of him, as if praying for forgiveness. “Also, Gears, you can lay off the ‘Lieutenant’ stuff. Like you said, I’m not your superior and I’m your friend, so you can just call me Dusk.”

“Absolutely not,” Gears retorted, surprising the other stallion. “As none of your soldiers are here my understanding is that I may refuse your request without reservation, is that correct?”

“Okay yes that is what we just cleared up but the SUBTEXT is that you should really just do what I say more often,” Dusk explained. “Especially when my ask is so nice and easy!”

“I emphatically decline, Lieutenant Blade,” Gears said firmly.

Dusk bristled, but before he could argue further he heard the sound of Gloom Fang approaching the cave from outside again.

“Lieutenant, you ready to go? Everypony else is up!” Gloom called, poking his head in upside-down.

“Yeah, I’m ready.” Dusk trotted past Gear Works, and hopped into a hover. “Gears, Gloomy, go line up with the mares. We’ll do an evening briefing and then move out.”

Zariyah, Nacht, Neuron, and Penumbra were all waiting at the bottom of the craggy spire in varying states of attention, laying under a shady overhang. Penumbra Shard was reading a scroll that was hovering in front of her while her magic simultaneously ran a brush over Nacht’s neon-dyed mane. The smaller mare was greatly enjoying the attention, grinning in delight and shifting her head to press it against the brush. Neuron Dialect already had her hood up and mask on, and was holding her gun upright with her wings. Zariyah stood apart from the bat ponies, gulping down water from her canteen.

The mares looked up as Dusk and Gloom descended, with the latter dropping down in line next to Penumbra.

“Good morning, crew. I hope you’re ready for another lovely night of getting shot at by half-blind, overgunned morons,” Dusk began, hovering in front of the group. “Stage one is complete and we have our target. Stage two is getting a means to reach the target without crawling through a maze of monster-infested caverns.”

“You mentioned a drill rig before, right?” Gear Works asked, descending the rock more carefully than the flyers.

“Yeah, that’s my plan. The drill rig is used to dig boreholes for mining ops, and it’s the reason the DarkMech was out here to begin with. Unfortunately, the nearest rig was, of course, captured by the Orks. Unit MN-668. So we’ve got to take it back first, like we did the pylons. Except the rig needs to be in good enough shape for us to use for its intended purpose.”

“I’m seeing some potential points of failure here,” Penumbra mumbled.

“The Orks prize drill rigs and similar mining equipment greatly, as they find them robust and very easy to weaponize,” Gears explained while he took position next to Zariyah. “Something as large as the bore drill mechanism would be ideal for their subterranean transports, so it will be disassembled rather than scrapped for raw materials.”

“… Is that good? That doesn’t really sound good,” Gloom replied, furrowing his brow.

“Disassembly is a longer and more delicate task than shredding a machine for raw materials,” Gears pointed out. “So there is a higher chance that the drill rig is still in a functional or near-functional state. It is a good thing.”

“If the Orks already built it into one of their… ‘subterranean transports,’ couldn’t we just use one of those instead?” Nacht wondered aloud.

“No,” Gears replied. Everyone else paused, expecting an elaboration, but several seconds passed in silence.

“… Okay, then. Now we just need to FIND the rig. The tracks were back at the spot where the pylon was stolen,” Dusk explained. “It’ll take some time, and we’ll probably have to crack another Ork base.”

“I have an alternative option,” Gear Works volunteered, raising his servo arm into the air. “Extractors are equipped with distress beacons in case of enemy attack. I can access the noosphere and pull its alert signum and movements up to the present, or at least until it stopped transmitting. I will need a sufficiently powerful data-tether, however.”

“Would that work?” Nacht asked, looking skeptical. “If this thing had an alert signum attached to it all this time, why hasn’t the Company already recovered it?”

“The escalating raids by greenskins and the increasing difficulty of offensive operations out here is why there was a big intelligence sweep to begin with, remember?” Dusk retorted. “Gears, what would you need to do this? Is there a data-tether closer than the tracks?”

“Affirmative. All class III Striders carry one.”

All eyes shifted to Zariyah. She shook her head. “I know what the Techpriest speaks of, but Icebreaker is a class I. Class III is model for pack leader.”

“He’s a Dar-” Neuron’s dull correction was cut off when a magic tendril suddenly wrapped tight around her face.

“And if you access this data-tether, you’ll be able to send and receive information to and from Ferrous Dominus?” Penumbra demanded while Neuron struggled against her magic in surprise.

Gear Works nodded hesitantly. “Yes. Is… there a reason you’re muffling Miss Dialect?”

The unicorn chuckled lightly. “Oh, I think we’re all a little tired of her nitpicking your rank, that’s all.” Neuron gave a disgruntled squeak, and the tendril of magic slipped away and back into the shadowed ground below her. “So, if our Strider doesn’t have this device, how is this a viable plan?”

“Icebreaker is MY Strider, not ‘ours.’ Zariyah sniffed. “I have the route of a Strider unit near this location. Lambda pack. Once night falls they will stop at a hidden rendezvous to rest and receive new orders.”

“Excellent. How far away is it?” Dusk asked. “Gears, bring up a regional map.”

Gear Works projected a flickering hololith into the air in front of the group with the topography filled in with deeper gradients of green. A bright white marker indicated where the group was, and Zariyah started studying the display from that point. Penumbra showed an even more intense interest, staring over Neuron’s shoulder with her eyes glowing softly in the dark.

“Here. Through this valley along the fault,” the pilot announced, pointing a hoof toward a particular section of the map.

“Perfect. It’s not too far from the dig site Gears identified. I’d say it’ll take us less than two hours to get there.” Dusk announced. “We link up with the Strider pack, Gears tracks the drill rig, and then we should be able to get to it before sunrise. If all goes well, we should digging by tomorrow.” He looked over the other soldiers of the Lunar Guard. “Dagger Squadron, we’re getting close to our objective. The further we go the less idea I have what we’re going to be dealing with. The monsters in the caverns, the Ork presence, the Chirocorn… hay, I haven’t even figured out how we’re going to handle the vault. But nobody here was expecting this to get any easier. Just look out for each other, follow orders, and keep your ears sharp, okay?”

The other thestrals nodded firmly. Penumbra also nodded, although she was currently writing furiously on a scroll that she was levitating in the air along with a feather tip pen. Dusk watched her for a few seconds, and then narrowed his eyes.

“Shard? What are you writing?”

“The location of the rendezvous point,” she said, pausing to lick the tip of the pen in a needlessly suggestive manner. “Currently the only copies exist in our little cultist friend’s metal skull, and probably the walker. We’ll want a spare, in case we get separated or if something unfortunate and permanent happens to them.”

“No,” Dusk said flatly. “Destroy that scroll.”

The Moon Mage pouted and hung her head. The paper rolled up, and then all the ponies present watched as Penumbra’s horn flashed and briefly banished the shade from around them. The scroll disintegrated into blue sparks, which promptly floated away on an invisible wind.

“Good. Now that we don’t have recourse if Gears or Backfire die, it’s extra important that they DON’T. Everypony got that?” Dusk asked, his tone growing agitated.

“Yes, Lieutenant,” the other bat ponies mumbled, sounding like schoolchildren being lectured by a teacher.

“Good! Backfire, saddle up. We’re going.”

Badlands
Bloodborne camp
Geolocation redacted

A silent wind whistled as a thread of magical power slipped through the tent canvas, and an ear twitched in response.

A unicorn mare turned her head up, and her pale, curved horn glimmered with a cloudy purple light. A cluster of turquoise sparks gathered from nowhere, rapidly materializing into a rolled-up parchment. Once it finished the transition it peeled open slightly, revealing a glimpse of the hasty scrawl within.

Laying on the dirt floor of the tent, the mare pressed a hoof against the top of the roll and then opened it without a word. She was a rather wiry pony, with a long, straight mane of inky black hair and eyes of pale violet. Her coat was a light gray, almost bone-white in its shade and with a decisively unhealthy texture. Her cutie mark was bizarre: a pair of black, four-pointed star bursts with one set to the side and above the other. It was not, however, the strangest marking on her body.

That particular honor went to the enormous centipede tattooed over her neck, shoulder, and the front left leg. It matched the style and color of her cutie mark – and her mane, for that matter – so well that many a pony had assumed it was an extension of her cutie mark somehow. It was not. This wasn’t exactly a secret, but as it happened there were few ponies who worked up the nerve to ask about it.

She finished reading the scroll, and her eyes slowly narrowed. The unicorn stood up and stepped toward the tent’s entrance, and the Chaos Star amulet around her neck jingled gently at the movement.

When she emerged into the early evening sky, she paused. Celestia’s sun was just starting to touch the mountains on the horizon, and its light still blanketed the sky, causing the unicorn to wince in displeasure. More pertinent to her progress, however, was the two armed bat ponies who had stepped in front of her to bar her path.

“And where do you think YOU’RE going, Bane?” one guard snarled while the other brandished her weapon.

The mares at the post were in full armor, with blade gauntlets on their front hooves. With a brief tap of an activation stud a short sword extended from one boot, while the other boasted a thick shield plate. The setup precluded the use of any firearms, although a pair of grenades dangled from their hip plates.

Isabelle Bane looked down at the blade being pointed at her throat and then stared at the guard holding it, with one eye obscured by the dark curtain of her mane. Her gaze seemed empty and disinterested, and it didn’t quite make eye contact with the redheaded pony threatening her as she spoke.

“Am I being held here? I was not told I was prisoner in the camp,” she said. Her tone matched her expression: listless and scratchy, and directed in such a way it felt like she was addressing someone just above or behind the listener.

“You Moon Mages are prisoners everywhere you go. You know that, Bane,” sneered the other guard. “So what is it you want? Hungry? Need to use the latrine? Out with it!”

The unicorn tilted her head to the side, her long mane swaying from the motion. “… I need to do a ritual.”

The bat pony guards shared a glance. “Ritual? What kind of ritual? What’s it for?”

“A summoning ritual,” Isabelle rasped. “I wish to create expendable beasts to serve in the task ahead.”

The guards considered this silently, and then the one with her weapon extended tapped the activation stud with the tip of her wing. The blade retracted back into the gauntlet sheathe, and she settled her wings on her back.

“Sounds legit.”

“Yeah, that checks out to me. What do you need?” asked the other guard, likewise relaxing her posture.

“Prisoners,” Isabelle hissed, her head shifting upward slightly.

“Sure. Follow,” commanded one of the thestrals, turning around.

The Bloodborne camp was quite busy, with many bat ponies – all mares, of course – just waking up and performing whatever preparations were needed for tonight’s skirmishes. Groups of thestrals drilled together, doing short aerial loops and diving down on armored training dummies in rapid sequence with their squads. Some were tending to the wounded, sleeping off their injuries, or making preparations to head out to a safe zone where they wouldn’t hold back the tribe. Those who bore the rare and mysterious echo weaponry were tuning their devices, or in several cases shaking and beating them in the hopes they would start working again. The sonic guns were unfortunately delicate, and there was not a one among the Bloodborne that could consider herself mechanically gifted enough to repair them.

Many of the thestrals were having breakfast, of course. Some of those feeding gulped down tins of nutrient gruel, relishing the efficiency of the human rations before quickly returning to more productive activities. Many, however, had decided to make a feast of their defeated foes. Cook fires were scattered around wasted Ork Trukks and piles of useless shootas, and the scent of roasting meat wafted over much of the camp.

They found that Ork flesh was tough, chewy, very lean, had a distinctly fibrous texture, and its flavor was on the sour side in a way that immediately gave the impression it was spoiled even when it had been grilled fresh from a butcher table. Gretchen were more tender, but the small, weedy creatures had a lot less meat on their bones. None of the carnivorous equines found the aliens very appetizing, but it was a habit of their tribe to stretch their food supplies whenever possible. Besides, it was rumored that Orks ate ponies, and the turnabout pleased them.

Isabelle was a vegetarian and personally found the odor revolting, but she offered no complaints nor did she shy away from the sight of mares enthusiastically butchering the large green bodies. The Moon Mage trotted right past the grisly chores and arrived at the pit where the surviving enemies had been gathered.

Her escort stepped in front of her immediately, greeting the ring of bat ponies guarding the huge hole in the ground. They all boasted javelins or spears, some of advanced make with superior metals and mono-molecular edges and some made of crude scrap iron and more “traditional” smithing techniques. Every once in a while several of the guards would shout or laugh and start stabbing some unlucky greenskin in the pit. It wasn’t clear if the reaction came from a prisoner attempting an escape or if the bat ponies were just bored.

“Pardon me, Beryl Blaster. The Moon Mage wants to do a little sorcery,” announced a guard to a particular ash-colored mare. “She needs bodies.”

“Live bodies,” Isabelle clarified. “How many Orks do we have?”

“Five. Two of the little ones, as well,” Beryl replied. Her bright crimson wings were spread, with one wrapped around the shaft of a spear and the other around a small, sharpened bit of bone she was using to pick her teeth.

“There were more than twenty taken after the ambushes last night, were there not?” Isabelle asked.

The guard sneered and spat to the side. “Now there are five. What do you want them for?”

“Summoning. The Gretchen are too weak. You may remove them,” Isabelle said, walking toward the pit.

Beryl swung her spear down to bar the unicorn’s path. “Not so fast, witch. You need to ask the Queen about this,” she warned, her crimson eyes gleaming. “The humans also like prisoners, so they may be too valuable to waste on you.”

“Mm. Best to get permission, I suppose,” mumbled one of the escort mares.

Isabelle stared at the weapon in her way. A glimmer of light came from her horn, and she reached out her hoof toward the wooden spear shaft, pawing gently against it and then putting her leg down again.

The spear started to change; slowly at first, but then more quickly and dramatically. The wooden shaft bleached and rotted, and the spearhead shriveled and rusted. Beryl recoiled in surprise as she realized what was happening, and the sudden movement shattered the polearm. Chips of dusty wood and flakes of dark reddish-brown iron littered the dirt in front of the Moon Mage, and Isabelle started walking forward again.

“Whoa, WHOA! What the fang was that?!” shouted one of the escort mares.

Beryl growled and jumped in front of the unicorn, hovering above her head level threateningly. “Cheeky little vermin, aren’t you?! One more step and I’m going to replace that spearhead with your horn!”

Isabelle Bane stopped and stared up at her. Then she threw her head back and howled.

At least, “howled” was the best way the assembled ponies could think to describe it among all the other words they knew for various noises from living creatures. It was a bizarre, extremely unsettling sound; mournful and chilling and extremely wrong. Beryl Blaster felt her wings start to seize, and she quickly landed and started backing away. Her stomach felt like a lump of ice was growing in it, her coat felt like it had turned into a blanket of scuttling spiders, and her echolocation was suddenly picking up numerous strange figments that her eyes didn’t detect. Every other mare had a similar reaction, and most jumped away to face the Moon Mage in a defensive crouch. Their respective danger senses, honed from years of difficult survival, grueling training, and brutal warfare, were on alert in a way none of them had experienced before, painting the gloomy unicorn as an extreme threat.

Beryl hissed and took up a combat stance. She bared her fangs threateningly and braced her rear legs as if she was readying to strike, but she was unable to stop herself from shivering. Isabelle didn’t even look at her, dropping her head and trotting down into the pit.

The five Orks that populated the pit were in sorry shape, to be sure. Deep cuts, gouges, and slashes decorated their bodies, and three of them were missing eyes or entire limbs. None of the wounds had been treated; there was no reason to bother with greenskins, even if the Bloodborne could be convinced to spend scarce medicae supplies on enemies. Orks were hardy enough that if a wound didn’t bleed them to death then the creature would almost certainly survive it. Infection was practically unheard of, and only a few of their organs could be considered vital in the short term (whether the brain was one of those was the subject of frequent debate). The Gretchen, having surrendered quickly, were in much better condition, although neither was unharmed.

“Oi, wuzzis?” asked one of the larger aliens, shifting upright onto his remaining leg and using the dirt wall of the pit to balance. “Dis hoss ain’t gotta pokah!”

The other Orks slowly roused themselves to confront the new pony. All had heard the strange noise from outside their crude prison, but they shrugged it off without concern or ill effect. The Gretchen reacted very poorly by comparison, shaking like leaves and rushing for the farthest part of the area to stay away from the strange mare.

Above the pit, the Bloodborne guards were cautiously peeking up over the edge with their spears ready to strike. None of them were sure whether the Moon Mage or the greenskins would be the one needing containment. The prisoners glanced up at the skulking ponies, but then dismissed them. The Orks started advancing on Isabelle, curious and (as ever) quite belligerent in intent.

Isabelle glanced from one Ork to the next, one eye obscured by the curtain of her hair. “Good enough,” she eventually pronounced.

Her horn glimmered with magic, and a ghoulish purple fire started to emerge from nowhere on the ground, encircling each Ork prisoner. The greenskins hesitated, but then continued approaching her once it was clear the flames weren’t high or hot enough to stop them. The magic continued swirling and zig-zagging, drawing glowing seams in the ground under the targets. As the prisoners advanced on the curious intruder the circles followed underneath them, sliding across the ground to keep the prisoners in the center.

“Now,” Isabelle announced, “kill them.”

The Orks halted in mild surprise. They glanced up at the bat ponies standing on the pit’s edge, readying themselves for an imminent rain of spears.

The Bloodborne troops did not attack, instead staring down at the unicorn in open irritation. Beryl Blaster approached the edge of the pit and sneered at her, although her expression suggested she hadn’t fully recovered from Isabelle’s terrifying cryptic scream.

“Kill them yourself, Moon Mage! If you can’t even manage that, why did we drag your pasty carcass all this way?!” Beryl demanded. “Go on! Age them to oblivion or something! Impress us!”

Behind Beryl Blaster, a large pile of discard Ork choppas and twisted scrap metal started to glow and quiver while the thestral taunted the unicorn. Her ear twitched, picking up the sound of rattling metal, and then she dropped to the dirt for cover as dozens of weapons making up the pile suddenly launched into the air. They arced upward and then turned their points downward, flying into the makeshift prison like a veritable river of dirty steel.

The swords, axes, spears, clubs and daggers (as well as the random scrap metal) split into five streams that curved through the air and into each alien soldier with terrifying accuracy. The Orks died before they fully understood what was happening, shredded apart by torrents of sharpened metal riding on a violet wind. The Gretchen squealed in horror at seeing their larger cell-mates dispatched, curling into quivering balls at the pit’s edge. The Bloodborne watched intently, most of them reluctantly impressed but mainly wanting to see what the strange mare was doing.

The dead prisoners fell into bubbling piles of blood and ichor, their flesh seeming to dissolve into a puddle within the magic inscriptions on the ground. Isabelle’s horn pulsed rapidly, feeding ever more magic into them while she whispered strange words of magic that the sensitive ears of the thestrals struggled to hear (or simply refused to). Beryl Blaster narrowed her eyes at the sight and then stepped back from the edge of the pit.

“Did she do anything like this during the battle? I don’t remember hearing about any grand displays of witchcraft at the time,” Beryl demanded of the two mares that had arrived as the unicorn’s escorts.

“We don’t know. We took over from Gleam and Howling after last night,” one guard admitted, her ears turning down. “They seemed eager to hand her off to us, although they didn’t speak about what had happened…”

“Queen Empyra attached the Moon Mage to the rearguard, since she couldn’t move as fast as any of the winged combat groups,” the other guard explained. “They faced maybe two or three patrol vehicles and bikers that saw the battle at random and attempted to join from an unexpected angle.” She shrugged. “The greenskins were destroyed in short order, but I’m not sure exactly how. Bane was hardly the only one there to stop them. Perhaps her skills on the battlefield are more… subtle than whatever this is.”

A muffled screech came from the pit, and Beryl darted back to the edge.

The pools of gore were growing, their centers rising and trembling as if the slurry of the Ork corpses were the skin of a soft egg. One of them bulged upward much higher than the others, and then the top split open. Oily black and red grime sprayed across the ground nearby, steaming and quivering in a way that churned the stomach.

Out of the egg/circle/corpse emerged a huge black bird, punching through the top of its bizarre prison with a beak like an obsidian spearhead. The watching ponies immediately likened it to a crow, although the beast was at least twenty times the size of any specimen they had ever seen. Veins of deep, glowing purple ran over the monstrous bird, as if its body had broken apart and the seams of color were gluing it together. Its eyes were the same hue, although even brighter, and they narrowed as the creature spread its big, dark wings and took to the air.

The surrounding mares held their weapons at the ready, waiting to see where the beast would attack. It simply flew straight up, however, rapidly gaining altitude and then darting away from the camp.

More screams heralded the exact same phenomenon from three more of the arcane circles, and the Bloodborne watched in fascination as three more giant black birds erupted from the enchanted ooze and flew into the sky one by one. Every one of them ignored the ponies and remaining greenskins below, soaring away in the same direction of the first. Isabelle Bane watched the affair with the same gloomy expression she always seemed to have, if slightly more intense than normal.

The last summoning pod finally broke, and the fifth monster threw its wings open and took to the sky with a bone-chilling screech.

A much louder screech answered it, and the bat ponies watching flinched in surprise right as something slammed into the avian beast in mid-air.

The creature was sent hurtling back down to the pit, and it struck the side with enough force to blast away the surrounding dirt and carve a large gouge into it. Its assailant – a huge, brown, bat-winged pony – kicked into one of its wings, bouncing away from the monster while it slumped back to the ground.

The monster howled in fury as it stood up, its blazing violet eyes focusing on its attacker. The bat pony was as big as it was, with a red mane that ranged in brightness from brilliant crimson at the tips to nearly black at the roots. She wore a black iron collar and a tattered dark shroud that hung between her wings, which were riddled with spines and had a large curved talon extended from each peak. The most distinctive aspect of the mare, aside from her size, was surely her teeth. She had huge, curved fangs that only slightly stood out among the rest of her knife-like teeth, and a long, blood-colored tongue slithered over them before the mare’s face twisted into a sneer.

The bird monster hopped forward, one of its wings already torn and useless. The thestral intercepted its stabbing beak by striking it in the side of the head, and a loud crack came from the impact before it was pitched back into the dirt.

A rousing cheer came from the watching bat ponies and several started thumping their spear butts on the ground in rhythm. Granted, none of them quite understood what was happening, but every warrior found themselves instantly inspired at the sight of their Queen Empyra diving into battle. Isabelle Bane watched with considerably less excitement, sitting down on her haunches while her summoned beast cut a furrow in the ground with its face.

It started to stand up but Empyra pounced first, slamming an iron-clad hoof onto the monster’s head and driving it back into the dirt. Then she bit deeply into its neck, tearing through the acrid, elemental shadow-stuff and ripping it open. Her tongue recoiled at the flavor of its meat, and vapor started pouring from her teeth as the contact proved dangerously corrosive, but she didn’t falter as she ripped out a considerable chunk of the beast and gulped it down. The bird released a gurgling attempt at a scream and Empyra bit it again, this time ripping its head off entirely. Mysterious black and purple fumes gushed from the wound, and the creature began to vaporize.

“Hmph,” Empyra offered the head of the avian monstrosity an annoyed snort, and then slammed a hoof down on top of it. The beast’s skull seemed to pop like a shadowy firecracker, leaving a blast-shaped soot stain upon the dirt and the Queen’s bladed greaves.

Then she turned to face down the unicorn on the side of the pit, next to the stepped and gated section that served as the entrance. “Good evening, my little Bell!” she said, her lips curling into a cruel smile as she stalked toward the smaller pony. “Explain to me why you’re summoning daemons in my war camp.”

“They are dark spirits, not daemons,” Isabelle Bane replied, her voice cold and her gloomy violet eyes not quite meeting Empyra’s bright red ones.

“You think we’re a bunch of ignorant barbarians, don’t you?” the Queen asked, stopping in front of the unicorn. “Get with the times, witch! Spirits, ghosts, specters, devils, gremlins, blah blah blah, they’re all ‘daemons.’ We know where they’re from, we know what they do, and we know how to send them back to their abyss.” Her teeth snapped shut with a sound like a steel trap. Despite having corroded earlier biting into the summoned bird, there were no longer any signs of damage. “Now, I will ask one more time: Why are you summoning daemons in my war camp?”

Empyra was starting to shrink now, and the bone spines that decorated her back and wings sunk back into her coat as if they were never there. Her jaws reduced to a (slightly) less fearsome visage, and her long, wild mane settled down over her body. Even her visible aura of menace receded, although that certainly didn’t make her seem any less dangerous to the spectators, much less the Moon Mage.

“… For a mission,” Isabelle said, her head drooping so that her hair better obscured her face.

Empyra placed a hoof under the unicorn’s chin, lifting it back up. “Look at me when I’m speaking to you, servant.” She had stopped shrinking now, having returned to her “normal” body, but she was still considerably bigger than Isabelle. “What ‘mission’ are you talking about? I gave you no particular tasks.”

“You are not my only commander,” the Moon Mage replied. It was an awkward admission, and Isabelle struggled to maintain eye contact with the larger mare.

“Remarkable,” the thestral Queen said, “we feed you and protect you, and give you the freedom to operate outside the little basement dungeon the humans carved out for you, and you thank us by killing our prisoners for the benefit of some far-off master?” She snorted. “But then, that’s how it’s always been, hasn’t it? I must be a fool for thinking things had changed just because the humans put a leash on you.”

Isabelle pulled her head back and started turning away, but Empyra followed her and seized her again, wrapping one wing around the side of her head while pressing a hoof threateningly against the unicorn’s chest. The thestral snarled, baring her fangs and coming close enough that the mares’ noses were almost touching. Isabelle stared back with a strange, passionless intensity in her eyes, as if she was trying to stare down the bigger pony but didn’t quite know how.

“I’m NOT DONE with you yet, little Bell,” Empyra growled, her hot breath lifting the unicorn’s mane slightly. “Who is this master you’re aiding? What do they want with a band of daemons?”

Up at the top of the pit the Bloodborne were watching the encounter carefully, vigilant for any more strange magic coming from the Moon Mage. In truth none of them imagined that anything Isabelle could do would seriously threaten Empyra, and if there was, they didn’t really think any of them would be able to help. Nonetheless the thestrals stood guard, and it was due to this focus that several of them noticed some kind of distortion rolling over the unicorn’s coat. None of them knew what was happening at first, and it was Beryl Blaster who first realized and shouted a warning.

“THE CENTIPEDE!! MY QUEEN!! IT’S ALIVE!!”

The shout was too late, for Empyra had already moved. Her hoof lifted out of the way just before the head of the centipede tattoo lunged across Isabelle’s neck. The ink seemed to lift off her coat and attack, with two sickle-shaped, black mandibles converging just millimeters from the thestral’s hoof.

“Cheeky little freak,” Empyra sniffed. Then she let go with her wing and swatted the Moon Mage aside with the other one.

Isabelle Bane was sent flailing through the air and struck the side of the pit hard. She gasped in pain at the impact and then promptly slumped onto the dirt, breathing heavily and bleeding along her flank where some of the rocks had cut her. The Bloodborne guards that were serving as her escort rapidly flew down to land next to her and then stood at attention, awaiting orders.

“Tend to her,” Empyra commanded, pointing her wing claw at the unicorn.

“Yes, my Queen,” replied the guards, bowing. One of them perked her ears. “Shall we punish her as well for her insolence?”

Empyra tilted her head slightly. “Hmmm… no. I think that’s enough for now. Besides, I rather like that she has some guts in that bony, withered body of hers,” she proclaimed with a laugh. “Take her away.”

Empyra turned around and strolled across the pit, beckoning with her wing to one of the soldiers standing watch above. “Beryl! Come here! The rest of you, go find something better to do than standing around a bloodstained hole in the ground!”

The ash-colored mare promptly leapt down into the makeshift prison while her peers quickly slinked away to perform other, more productive tasks. Empyra stopped in the center of the pit, her narrowed eyes staring at one of the smoldering magic circles on the dirt. She leaned in and sniffed at it, and then grimaced at the rancid odor.

“When the apes said they could loan me a Moon Mage like they were just another weapon I wasn’t sure what to expect,” the Queen admitted while Beryl Blaster landed beside her. “I thought perhaps being caught by Canterlot and then made to serve under the yoke of the 38th Company would have beaten some humility into them, but no. Those dregs are too used to scheming.”

She snorted derisively and then addressed Beryl. “Which way did the other daemons flee?”

Beryl snapped up a compass in her wing, taking a moment to recall the path of the daemonic birds. “West by southwest, my Queen. Shall I assemble a pursuit wing?”

“No. Our scouts spotted an Ork encampment to the South, and I don’t want our marepower stretched among such hostile territory,” Empyra declared, stalking forward again. The Gretchen still in the pit curled up into quivering balls at her approach. “I want our scouts in the air within the hour to place those artillery beacons among the enemy defenses before the rest of the force arrives. We will attack through the flaming ruin of their fortifications. Perhaps I’ll put the gloomy mare to work, since she likes making little helpers from the enemy’s dead.”

“Of course, Queen Empyra,” Beryl said again. “What shall we do with these remaining prisoners? If we are not-”

Before she could finish the sentence, Empyra leapt at the cowering greenskins and seized one in her jaws, crushing its arm to a bloody pulp. The alien squealed in horror, but was quickly silenced when the thestral Queen went in for another bite. It was ripped apart in short order and Empyra eagerly feasted on the raw flesh, throwing bits of gore all around while the other alien wailed and quivered under her hoof with the realization it was next.

“… Ah. Okay, I’ll go make those preparations then. Enjoy your meal, my Queen.”

Badlands
Geolocation ping 1.339204.21730

“So you never did answer my question back on the gunship,” Gloom Fang said suddenly, eyes narrowing at Gear Works. “What’s with the Mechanicus thing? How does a pony join a cult like that?”

Gear Works turned around, peering over the side of the Strider battlesuit. He and Penumbra Shard were riding up top again, while the bat ponies hung onto the cargo hooks on the side of the body. The sun was sinking below the distant horizon, and darkness was slowly stretching across the open sky. The Strider moved at a good clip through the stony ravine it was passing through, its broad feet crushing the jagged rocks underfoot. A wheeled and even tracked vehicle would have struggled with the crags and crevices that decorated the ground here, but Zariyah guided her walker with relative ease, winding around the larger spikes jutting out of the surface and kicking over the smaller ones that barred her path. Penumbra was studying a scroll of parchment while they traveled, and Gear Works had been researching the sediment composition they expected at the dig site before being interrupted.

“I’m not sure what there is to say,” Gear Works said. “I was a mechanical engineer long before the first Techpriest set foot on our world. It is my talent and destiny. Like many other ponies, I joined the Iron Warriors to gain access their knowledge. It strikes me as so obvious it does not bear explanation.”

“That’s not why most ponies joined the Iron Warriors,” Penumbra interjected.

“Among those who moved to Ferrous Dominus voluntarily, the opportunity to access advanced technology and alien culture were common points of interest. It was certainly the primary driver behind my enlistment, and I am not unique in my motivations.” Gears shrugged his shoulders. “I suppose the specifics of the Mechanicus doctrine and how I integrated with an institution that is fundamentally hostile to non-humans is highly unusual, but I suspect the nuances of my conversion would not interest Corporal Fang.”

Gloom Fang stared up at Gears over the edge of the Strider’s body, his brow furrowed and his eyes slightly unfocused.

Then Dusk Blade piped up next to him, sounding exasperated. “What he MEANT was how you got your bionics.”

“I see. A house fell on me. It was the Tau’s fault,” Gears explained. “Then Techpriest Carmed elected to provide extensive replacement augmentations as an experiment to see if ponies make viable servitors.”

“Oh! Okay, yeah. That makes sense,” Gloomy acknowledged, nodding. “So what did they decide on the servitor thing?”

“Have you seen any pony servitors other than him?” Penumbra asked, gesturing to Gear Works. “Clearly they weren’t impressed.”

“He is a Dark Acolyte, not a servitor,” Neuron Dialect interjected.

“I don’t have time to learn the precise titles of every lout who has a bunch of hideous metal garbage hammered into him,” Penumbra said with a warm chuckle, “but since you’re dead set on correcting us every single time somepony gets it wrong, I suppose I relent.”

Gears sighed in exasperation, holding back an extensive lecture on the many differences between tech-clergy and the servitor cyber-slaves. He had a feeling the Moon Mage wouldn’t appreciate the distinction.

Nacht jumped up higher on the Strider, her echo cannon bouncing against her back. “But you like cyborg ponies! You have that secret collection of pictures of Ironside Macintosh in your library!”

Penumbra recoiled, her face reddening substantially. Gloom Fang snickered, but the others didn’t seem to react, focusing instead on their surroundings. The Strider hesitated for a second as Zariyah considered stopping so that she might better hear the conversation, but she thought better of it and maintained her speed.

“When did you start rooting through my library behind my back, you little minx!” Penumbra huffed, her muzzle scrunching up. The diminutive mare just giggled in response. “Since you brought it up, fine: I don’t mind a little chrome here and there. At least the farmer still has a FACE.” She paused. “Among other parts…”

The Strider suddenly stopped, jolting the passengers slightly. Penumbra looked around cautiously, searching for any thing wrong. It was getting dark very rapidly now, but her magically enhanced vision couldn’t spot a threat.

“Backfire? What’s the hold-up?” Dusk Blade demanded, banging a hoof on Icebreaker’s hull. “We’re not stopping so you can gossip about stallions.”

“… Emergency distress signum,” Zariyah said after a moment. “Lambda pack is under attack!”

“Oh, what NOW?” Penumbra sighed wearily.

“I’m receiving the emergency message,” Gear Works announced. “Vox codex recognized. Enemy contacts confirmed. Unit type unknown. Aerial, melee skirmisher type.”

Dusk banged his hoof on the Strider again. “Well, what’re you standing around for?! Double time!”

Icebreaker launched forward, and both Penumbra and Gears had to flatten themselves against the top to avoid being thrown off. The Strider galloped through the rocky spires with remarkable agility, kicking aside the smaller columns in its path and swerving out of the way of the others. Rock crunched under its feet, and the top of the walker tilted sharply from one side to the other.

“Shard! Stabilize Gears and yourself, would you? Some of the terrain here could skewer a pony if you were to fall!” Dusk shouted. “Gears, any idea what the enemy is? They’d know if they were fighting Orks, right?”

“It is not Orks, for certain! The signum is feeding sensor data to the local vox -net and initial aura-scans suggest an avian physiology!” the Dark Acolyte replied, shouting over the sound of moving pistons and shattering stone.

“Could you PLEASE talk like a normal pony for once?! What the hay is an avy… whatever you said?” Gloom Fang complained.

“He said it looks like a bird!” shouted Dusk.

“A bird? Seriously?” Nacht again pulled up over the top of the Strider’s back so the others could see her incredulous expression. “I know Strider jockeys don’t exactly have a reputation for valor, but they’re not THAT bad, are they?”

“Several birds,” Gear Works clarified. “Several LARGE birds.”

“Maybe they’re owls?” Gloom suggested. “Owls are pretty big and scary.”

“Really, Gloomy?”

“What?! Have you ever had one of those things clawing at you?! They’re terrifying!” He shuddered. “And it’s dark now so it’s not like any of the daytime birds would be out hunting!”

Gear Works spotted a spray of laser blasts into the sky ahead, slicing upward in a desperate fan of red darts. This was followed by a ferocious screech that rolled over the region and echoed through the ravine. Each of the bat ponies cringed, their sensitive ears pinning back, but Penumbra perked up and her horn began to spark.

“Okay, fine, that’s definitely not an owl screech,” Gloom admitted.

“There are many unnatural beasts that stalk the badlands along with all the unpleasant but natural ones,” Penumbra said. “I believe these are dark spirits.”

“Dark spirits? What? What kind of-”

Dusk was cut off when the Strider jolted suddenly to the left and a sharp whine came from its lascannon capacitor.

“Target sighted!” Zariyah shouted, the Strider slowed its pace slightly and swung its head up. “PERISH.”

The lascannon screamed, and a bright red beam slashed through the night sky. It cut into a mass of dark, fleshy matter, briefly illuminating a huge bird-like body with a pulse of crimson light. Then, in an instant, it tore through entirely, slicing off the creature’s wing. Another screech – this one much shorter and angrier than the last one – rolled through the crevice, and the monster plummeted to the ground.

“Got it!” Zariyah cheered. The daemonic crow fell atop one of the narrower rock spires scattered through the ravine and promptly impaled itself. Dark purple smoke puffed into the air rather than blood spilling on the ground, and black feathers started floating from the creature’s ruined body.

“They ARE birds! What the hay?!” Nacht exclaimed.

“Really big ones,” Gloom noted.

“I told you, they’re spirits! Dark magic given form and minor intelligence!” Penumbra explained, carefully walking up toward the Strider’s head.

“Are they yours?” Dusk asked suspiciously.

Penumbra stumbled and then stared over the edge with an incredulous look. “What? Why would I summon monsters to attack us?”

“I dunno, but you’re the only one who knows any dark magic I’m aware of, and you knew exactly what these things are,” Dusk reasoned. “Doesn’t matter now, I guess! Dagger Squad, engage!”

The four bat ponies leapt from Icebreaker at about the same moment an unfamiliar Strider dashed from behind a cluster of stone columns, jumping and bucking in a panic. On its back was one of the huge ravens, its claws sunk into the polyceramic armor plating and its beak jabbing at the neck joint. Black and purple smoke wafted from the damage, suggesting at a glance that the harm wasn’t limited to the spear-like, iron-hard beak alone.

“Hey! Can you get this thing off me!?” shouted the Strider, its vox caster broadcasting the plea to the bat ponies. It bolted through the stone crags, swinging left and right sharply as best it could, but it at least noticed the reinforcements.

“Nacht, peel it off!” Dusk commanded as he and Gloom Fang built altitude.

“Yessir!” Nacht chirped, bouncing off of a crag and then somersaulting in the air. She landed on her back legs, with her echo cannon already drawn and humming. She stabilized herself with her wings, carefully flapping as the weapon rapidly built up charge.

“We don’t want to damage the Strider,” Dusk added as the cannon’s pitch rose to its peak, “so make sure-”

A tremendously loud shriek rose from the weapon, and the air between Nacht and the Strider appeared to warp horribly before an explosion struck the walker in the side. The daemon was blasted off of it and slammed into a stone pillar, screeching angrily. The Strider was ALSO blasted off-balance, and it promptly tripped and crashed onto a bed of knife-like stone protrusions. Most of the rocks splintered against the superior hardness of the battlesuit armor, but one particularly sharp and sturdy hazard shattered the knee assembly, crippling the machine.

“NACHT!! WHAT THE FANG?!” Dusk shouted while he and Gloom lined up their splinter rifles at the downed monster.

“Whoopsie!” the mare replied, lowering the gun. “It’s fine, I’m sure the Techpriest can fix that.”

Neuron Dialect landed on the crag above Nacht, the claws on her boots digging into the stone to stabilize her. She promptly took up her rifle with her wings, but stared down at Nacht rather than aiming.

“… Ugh, fine. Acolyte. The ACOLYTE can fix it, probably.”

Neuron nodded sharply, and then flipped her galvanic rifle up into a firing position, with a hoof against the stock and another holding up the barrel. Then her wing wrapped around the weapon while her eyes focused on the target.

The daemonic bird was standing up again, shielding itself with a wing from the rain of razor shards. The crystal needles sliced through its strange, immaterial flesh with terrible ease and shattered to tear it from the inside, but the alien weapons were otherwise not very effective against a daemon. The “spirit” did not feel pain, suffer from the exotic toxins, or bleed like a flesh-and-blood monstrosity, and it shrugged off the physical harm to leap back into the air.

A galvanic shell was a different story, however. The sizzling gunshot rang through the ravine and the daemon’s body jolted. A brilliant plasma flare burst from the impact point, and then a plume of steaming, oily smoke erupted out of the other side. The bird was stunned from the hit and plummeted back to the ground.

It was fortunate enough to land on rocks that were merely rough and uneven rather than truly hazardous, and it rolled over onto its back with an agonized spasm. Then its wings and talons were flailing again, trying to bring the beast back upright. Dusk and Gloom flew above it, circling the avian monster in preparation to dive and finish it off.

Penumbra frowned and stomped a hoof on Icebreaker’s head. “This one is handled! Let’s get the others!”

Zariyah didn’t argue, turning sharply toward a cluster of high crags where the other Strider had come from. There was still much shrieking and las fire coming from that area, although it wasn’t easy to differentiate noises with the echo cannon charging up again. Icebreaker cleared the impediment and immediately spotted two more Striders, each being harassed by one of the enormous daemonic ravens.

One of the Striders fired on the other, its multilaser cutting a rapid burst of impacts across its squadmate. The lasers burnt large scorch marks into the walkers armor across its side, and a few shots even struck the daemon tearing at its neck, carving bright red scars across its wings. The other Strider didn’t seem to appreciate the help, and its pilot yelped in terror as it tried to shake off the bird.

“Would you STOP SHOOTING ME?! You’re doing way more damage than the stupid bird!” cried one of the scout walkers.

“No, it’s okay! Our armor is strong enough to block the multilaser, I saw it in the traini-GYAH!” the other walker recoiled as the last daemon dived, striking at its neck assembly and nearly knocking it over.

Penumbra Shard assessed the situation, and then her horn began to glow. “Pilot, remain still. I’ll handle this.”

She reared up, and a quivering runic circle spun out of nowhere beneath her hooves. She floated in the air slightly, and a turquoise light similar to the glow from her horn poured from her eyes as well. Gear Works scooted backward, glancing down at the ground below and trying to identify the safest spot to land if he had to dismount.

“Ushr kalis venu raahl! Ebon vector, arise! Darkness pierce the hearts of the righteous!” Penumbra chanted while thick tendrils of turquoise magic emerged from the circle around her. Then they darted toward the other Striders, snaking through the air like swimming eels.

“Why does your magic make reference to stabbing righteous hearts?” Zariyah asked suspiciously.

“Oh relax, that’s just for a bit of flavor!” Penumbra said brightly. “It’s dark magic, it’s supposed to sound edgy and dangerous!”

The ebon vectors reached the flailing Striders, and each tendril rapidly slipped around the daemonic ravens before tightening to bind the monsters and then peeling them off of the hapless battlesuits. The birds screeched in rage and started lashing out at the vectors, pecking and tearing at them with beak and talon.

Penumbra lifted a hoof and then swung it down, as if she was swatting at a bug. “Greim!”

The magic tentacles yanked the daemons backward and dragged them to the ground, accelerating them toward the same point. The daemon birds collided with a meaty crack, and then the ebon vectors blinked away as they began flailing and shrieking angrily to get their bearings.

Penumbra stepped back and to the side, her hooves floating bare inches off the Strider’s back as she positioned herself behind its neck. “Urhim TULL,” she chanted, her voice rising sharply as she lifted a hoof above her head.

A line of enormous turquoise spikes erupted from the ground, running from under the Strider’s head and neck assembly to the daemon birds in barely a second. Icebreaker’s head was completely ripped from its chassis, and the head itself was lifted into the air along with the spike, with much of its internals shredded and ejected out of the top plating in a shower of sparks and debris. At the other end of the attack, numerous spikes burst under the daemons in several directions at once, somewhat resembling a flower blossom. The creatures were reduced to a cloud of purple mist and jet black feathers in an instant, their angry screeching finally silenced.

Zariyah Backfire stared at the sparking vid-screen in her cockpit, her heart frozen in her chest. The interface screen had been sliced in half, and many pieces of its surface were scattered across her cockpit now. Behind the ruined screen was a massive wall of seething turquoise energy, thrumming with an intensity that sounded quite severe to her at that particular moment. The energy “wall” shifted, and the Strider’s superstructure creaked. Then the huge, glowing spike slipped back down into the stones below, leaving the Strider pilot exposed to open air.

Her heart started beating again, and then the pilot sucked in a deep breath. “MY STRIDER!! YOU INCOMPETENT WENCH!!”

Penumbra blinked, coming down from her casting. She looked down at the shredded assembly where the walker’s head had been, and then stepped up to it so she could look over the edge. Zariyah had disengaged from the wells that held her legs and she pushed past the broken machinery that normally connected the cockpit to the head, sticking out of the breach. Looking up, she locked eyes with the unicorn and hers narrowed to slits.

“What is wrong with you?! You had those creatures completely helpless, and yet you could not dispatch them without destroying my Icebreaker?!” the pilot screamed angrily.

Penumbra Shard didn’t respond right away, staring down at the earth pony mare and then looking over at the shattered hulk of the Strider’s head.

“… Huh. So your head isn’t actually in the walker’s head while you’re running that thing? I didn’t realize,” the unicorn mumbled. After a moment of incredulous silence, she coughed into a hoof. “Which is good, obviously. I’m very sorry about the damage. Maybe he can fix it?” she pointed a hoof back at Gear Works.

“No, I cannot,” Gears said blandly.

“Ah, it’s too bad. I really do need to watch the collateral damage,” Penumbra sighed while Zariyah sputtered angrily.

“Hey! Are you guys okay? Thanks for the assist out here!”

The two rescued Striders were approaching cautiously, their heads tilted upward to look for more flying hostiles. Penumbra dismissed Zariyah and looked toward the other battlesuits, sitting on her haunches.

“You’re very welcome. How did you become the target of dark spirits way out here?” the Moon Mage asked, tilting her head thoughtfully.

“Spirits? I didn’t see anything in the regional threats report about spirits!” complained one pilot. “We were just settling into this space because it was well-obscured and then those bird things soared overhead and dive-bombed us!”

“Where’s Gumball? Did she manage to escape?” one of the Striders lowered its head while the pilot checked the unit vox channel. “I’m getting a reading from her Strider, but its engine is cold. Is she okay?”

“Mostly. The other battlesuit was seriously damaged, but it looked reparable,” Gear Works noted as the bat ponies started flying in from between the crags.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! What happened?!” Dusk demanded as he hovered up to Icebreaker, staring at the hole where its head used to be and the furious mare poking out of it. “Did one of those birds manage that?!”

“Nyet. That was HER fault,” Zariyah snarled, nudging her head upward.

“I said I was sorry!” Penumbra said, sounding affronted. “The important thing is that the dark spirits are vanquished, the ‘data-tester’ was preserved, and nopony died.”

“Data-tether,” Neuron corrected.

“Yeah, sure. That.”

Dusk glared at Penumbra with deep hostility, but then turned to the intact Striders. “If everything has calmed down a bit, then we should get to business. It was a coincidence that we arrived right when you were being attacked, but we’re here for a reason. We need to use the noosphere.”

“Oh! Well, sure!” One of the Striders – bearing a plasma cannon on the left side of its head and a fan of transmitter rods on the right side – walked up to the decapitated walker so that its nose was almost touching its side. “So… do you want me to look something up for you, or-”

Gear Works said something in Binaric Cant, his voice emerging as an uncanny, buzzing crackle of static. His optic lights flickered on and off briefly, replaced by a completely unintelligible stream of data-screed washing over the visor that had replaced much of his face. The Strider tilted its head in confusion to stare, but after a few seconds, it was over. Gear’s optic lights blinked back on and he nodded.

“The distress signum has deactivated, but I was able to triangulate its drive path before it stopped. I have approximated the location of the drill rig to 87% probability, Lieutenant. We may depart at your leisure.”

“Big number! I like it!” Dusk said, rubbing his front hooves together. “Gears, see if you can get that third Strider back in the pit up and running.” Then he grimaced. “I don’t know what we’re going to do with Backfire now that her ride is inoperable, though.”

“Is it possible for her to just move it like this? She can see out the front still,” Penumbra asked.

“No, it’s not possible!” Zariyah bristled.

“Well then, unless these ponies are going to loan us one of their machines I guess we’re going to have to offload you here,” Penumbra said with a sigh.

“And YOU’LL have to walk the rest of the way,” Dusk reminded her.

“Well, we can’t really lend you one of our Striders. We need ‘em,” one of the recon walkers announced, “but if your grounded ponies need an evacuation, we can take them to the artillery base tomorrow.”

“That sounds good, but I only need you to take Backfire,” Dusk explained. “I need Gears for our mission, and while I’d love to ditch Shard with you she’d just sneak off on her own if I wasn’t here.” Zariyah gave a disgusted snort, while Penumbra puckered her lips and blew a kiss to the Lunar Lieutenant.

“The other pilot is here,” Neuron announced, perching on the beheaded Strider and pointing a wing. A green mare was approaching carefully through the crags, her gait uneven atop the jagged, pitted stone ground. “And there’s… something else. A strange noise,” she said, her ear flicking in agitation.

“What?” Dusk tapped the bead in his ear, turning off the standard interference that protected his hearing. “Hmm… okay, I… I THINK I hear it too. What is that?”

Penumbra blinked. “Another wave of spirits? Or an Ork patrol?”

“Definitely not a bird, daemonic or otherwise,” Dusk replied.

“Could be Orks. Doesn’t sound right, though,” Neuron admitted. “No chatter. Or engines.”

“Hi! ‘Scuse me!” came a call from below, accompanied by a firm tapping noise against a hardened surface.

Dagger Squadron stopped and looked down over the edge of Icebreaker’s body. The pilot that had escaped her Strider had approached and was knocking on the leg of the decapitated walker, trying to get their attention. She blinked up at them once she had their attention, and then, with a distinctly calm, languid bearing, she waved.

“Hey there. First thing I wanna say: thanks for the assist. That was pretty scary. I appreciate ya shooting the beastie off,” she said with a sleepy smile. “My name’s Gumball Glade, Strider pilot third class.”

“You’re welcome. What was the second thing you wanted to say?” Dusk asked.

“Oh, I just wanted to let the little one know I’m okay,” Gumball continued. “The spill was pretty rough, but she doesn’t need to worry.”

“I wasn’t worried,” Nacht assured her blithely.

“Neuro, Gloomy, we’re going to do a perimeter sweep while Gears is busy with the repairs. I want-” Dusk stopped when another series of tapping noises came from below. “What now? We’re in a hurry!”

“Third thing,” Gumball continued, still standing against the Strider’s leg, “there’s some kind of huge crystal out on the ravine ridge. Couple of big stone guys too. Don’t know what to make of it.”

“Stone guys?” Dusk asked in alarm.

“Crystal?” Gears added.

They looked at each other. “Keepers!”

The thestrals all heard a resonant crackle, like a firework’s pop at a great distance.

Then a lightning bolt hit a stone crag, blasting it apart.

“Down! Get down on the ground!” Dusk shouted, barely able to hear his own voice after the deafening blast. He swooped down to the rock and touched the sonic damper in his ear, turning it up high enough to spare his ears from further thundercracks.

“We’re under attack again?! Why didn’t you lead with that?!” Nacht shrieked as she landed under Icebreaker.

“I thought I should introduce myself first,” Gumball said, looking quite sanguine despite the smoldering pile of rocks just twenty feet away. “Sorry, I guess I could have mentioned it second, at least.”

“I’m sorry about Glade! She has low blood pressure,” one of the Striders apologized, lowering itself to the ground before another lightning bolt arced into the rocks.

The spire was blown apart as the energy bolt superheated a jagged seam running through its length and tore it open. The thestrals hugged the ground, their ears pinned to their heads, but Icebreaker happened to be standing rather close to the impact. Hot stone shrapnel hammered the broad side of the decapitated walker, and without a pilot adjusting its balance the battlesuit started to tilt over.

“Oh dear,” Penumbra mumbled to herself, lifting her body up with the ebon vectors and using them to carry her off of the falling walker.

Gear Works and Zariyah Backfire were not so fortunate, and the earth ponies wailed as Icebreaker crashed against the rocks, spilling them painfully onto the ground.

“Shard! Get down! Now!” Dusk commanded.

The unicorn swiftly lowered herself, and her hair stood on end as crackling whips of electricity jumped across the tips of the stone spires, lashing about in the air as if seeking a victim.

“Everypony stay on the ground! No flying!” Dusk barked, crawling toward the base of the spires almost on his belly.

“What is that thing? What are we fighting?!” Gloom Fang asked.

“I don’t know! I don’t fight Keepers! I just remember hearing that the weird lightning guns hit harder if you’re in the air!” the Lieutenant shouted back.

“That is a class VI lithoconductive weapon!” Gear Works shouted, himself crawling up to Icebreaker for cover.

“Needs a better name!” Dusk retorted. “What does it do and how do we break it?!”

Another lightning bolt blasted into the veritable wall of stone that protected the Striders and ponies. A long, jagged crack was burned into the rock, glowing a bright orange, but this time nothing fell down.

“It’s a medium-range barrage and area denial weapon! It can generate longer ranged lightning blasts of devastating intensity, as it’s doing now, but it also generates rapid bursts in a smaller fixed radius around it to incinerate anything that comes too close!” Gear Works said. “All attempts at close assault on class VI units have failed for this reason!”

“So how do we kill it?!” Gloom Fang demanded.

“Anti-armor heavy weaponry is effective! Battle cannons and krak missiles in particular have defeated them on severals occasions! Lascannons do less damage, but the heat discharge seems to disrupt their charging process!”

“You don’t say? It sure would be nice to have a lascannon right now, then,” Dusk sneered, glaring at Penumbra.

“I SAID I was sorry!” Penumbra huffed.

“My Strider has a lascannon!” Gumball Glade chirped, raising a hoof. “Soon as we get Easy Sunday back up and striding, I’ll show them goofy critters what for!”

Nacht slapped a hoof against her face. Then a bolt of lightning crashed into another rock pillar, and the thestrals yelped and scattered as the structure broke apart. Hot shrapnel and loose rock rained down into the pit, and as another piece of their cover crumbled the ponies spotted a blue point sticking over the top of the ravine’s ridge. Plasma arcs lashed at the tip, and the structure glowed with a deep, radiant azure light that made it easy to see in the dark.

“I’ve got a plasma cannon! Guess we’re using that!” announced the Lambda pack leader.

“Why are we fighting this thing at all?! We don’t need this spot! Let’s run for it!” suggested the other Strider.

“From that vantage point it’s going to get a dozen perfect shots at us if we try to retreat through the ravine!” Dusk complained. “Take it down! Neuro, get a vantage point on them and see if you can find anything vulnerable to shoot! Stay AWAY from the big gem!”

Neuron Dialect nodded and galloped away, darting between the crags as another lightning bolt cracked against their cover. The lead Strider stood up and rushed to one of the remaining pillars, a droning hum already coming from its plasma cannon. It planted its shoulder against the rock spire, bracing itself while the flex coiling on the cannon started shining with the energy contained within. It wasn’t the ideal positioning for the walker; it was made to attack while on the go, relying on its speed to carry it away from retaliation, but Dusk made a strong case against abandoning the stone cage protecting them from bombardment.

The plasma cannon fired, launching a hoofball-sized orb into the air. The crystal reacted to the incoming projectile as soon as it reached its defensive perimeter, and a lightning arc lashed out and shattered the spherical magnetic field that contained the deadly payload. The projectile struck anyway, and the ball of fusion-powered destruction burnt a massive gouge into the weaponized jewel.

“Got it!” the Strider pilot cheered, ducking back from the inevitable retaliation. “Definitely caused some structural damage!”

“Once the crystal goes down, we make a break for it!” Dusk announced.

“Aw, shucks. Does that mean we’re not fixing my ride?” Gumball pouted.

“If you want to go back for it, we’re not going to stop you!” Penumbra answered.

The lead Strider leaned out to shoot again, the hum from its plasma cannon rising to a fevered pitch. This time, however, the pilot noticed something else on the ravine’s ridge. A large stone figure was standing at the edge, a thinner (but still very large) crystal mounted in one arm.

The crystal flashed, and a whip of white-hot lightning struck the Strider’s head before it could fire. The walker trembled as electric arcs danced across its head and the fins of its receiver array, but it held firm. Inside the body the pilot grunted in frustration as his screen turned to static, but he quickly slipped his leg free of its sleeve and hit the manual reset. The screen flickered for a second, and then blinked back on. Then it was immediately overcome by a bright blue flash as a much larger lightning bolt struck the walker.

A sharp whistle briefly came from the plasma cannon as its flex coiling overloaded and the capacitors popped in rapid sequence. Then the weapon detonated, annihilating the scout walker’s head and sending it reeling onto the ground.

“Oh for fang’s sake!” Dusk cursed as the second decapitated Strider slammed sidelong onto the rocks, sprawling out next to the first one. “Shard! Nacht! Hit it before it recharges!”

Nacht jumped out from behind a rock pillar, her echo cannon already shrieking. Penumbra was more cautious in stepping into the line of fire, although once she did her magic surged around her in a mighty tide of pulsing turquoise light. A runic circle spiraled into view around her horn, and then another matching one surrounded her hoof as she thrust it forward.

A beam of dark blue surrounded by crackling lightning arcs screamed through the air, slamming into the enormous crystal with enough force to tilt it backward. The echo cannon struck on the other side, and the massive stone trembled violently against the forces threatening to tear it apart. Then the attacks were spent and the crystal tilted forward again, already humming loudly with its next charge.

“No good! We just can’t crack that thing!” Nacht shouted, scurrying back behind a boulder. A smaller lightning blast struck the rock right behind her, and she flinched away as smoke wafted from the impact.

“If I could get closer I could do more,” Penumbra mumbled in aggravation. “The ebon vector won’t work at this range. How about somepony play decoy for a bit?”

“Not it!” Gloom Fang announced.

“We don’t know how far the exact range of that proximity weapon is! Besides, if we’re going to start sacrificing ponies for brief diversions I’d rather just have everyone break for it!” Dusk decided, shaking his head.

“I like the running and hoping plan, personally,” announced the last functional Strider, staring at the smoldering wreck of the command unit.

Another heavy lightning blast crashed into their cover, and another rock spire collapsed into smoldering gravel.

“Anyway if anypony has a better idea we need it now! A couple more shots and we’ll be exposed and blasted to ashes anyway!” complained the Strider.

Dusk and Gloom shared a glance. Dusk grimaced, and then reached for the splinter rifle on his gunnery brace. He wedged his hoofblade into what passed as the weapon’s chamber, digging out a tiny, gleaming blue sliver from the strange alien magazine.

“I have an idea!” Gear Works shouted, rushing over to Nacht.

Dusk started in surprise, glancing between the splinter projectile and the tech-cultist. Nacht looked equally surprised, and slightly wary. Then another lightning bombardment struck the rock pillar where Dusk was covering, and he had to shield himself from bits of hot, smoldering stone.

“Miss Nacht! Your echo cannon!” Gears exclaimed, reaching over with his servo claw as soon as he was close enough.

She reluctantly allowed the Acolyte to seize the weapon, and then grunted in aggravation as he tugged it closer, yanking her forward slightly. “What do you want? It can’t break the crystals!”

“Not at its current power, no!” Gears shouted, stabbing his tail spike into the rear section and prying it open. A pair of honeycombed rods were inserted there, and Gears quickly plucked each one from its socket and dropped it onto the ground.

“Hey! What are you doing?! Don’t I need those?!”

“I’ve disabled the resonance stabilizers!” Gears shouted, reaching into the opening with a probe extending from his augmetic hoof. A sizzle of sparks came from the interior, followed by a series of strange warbling noises from the cannon. “And that should disable the amp regulator! Its wavelength cascade should fuse at four or five times the previous power!”

Nacht blinked while Gears shut the weapon’s panel closed.

“Now, this effect does spread out the higher pulse! You’ll need to compensate with a much longer delay after activating the alpha resonant, and then switch to beta immediately before the cascade impact to maximize damage!” Gear Works backed away his ears pinning to his head. “You’ll also need to toggle off the battery feed directly rather than just easing the trigger! The regulator mostly controlled that!”

“… What does ANY of that mean?!” Nacht asked, baffled.

“What does…? I thought you were a specialist with this weapon!” Gears replied, sounding equally baffled and also quite upset.

“I am! That means I use it to shoot stuff! What are you talking about?”

“Don’t ANY of you read your wargears’ technical documentation?!”

Another lightning bolt crashed into their cover, and Gear Works staggered back against the thunderous impact. The column protecting Nacht and the downed Striders was starting to fall apart, and they could see the enormous, crackling gem looming over the ravine’s edge as it prepared the next attack.

“We’re out of time! Just shoot it!” Gears cried, diving away and pressing his hooves to his ears. “Everypony else, cover your ears! Set your sonic dampers to maximum! GET DOWN!”

Nacht snarled and brought the echo cannon around, ignoring the bits of stone falling on her. “Whatever! Just BREAK already!”

She hit the pulse trigger, and a terribly loud, keening shriek came from the weapon; primarily where it was aimed, but the ponies around and behind her could also hear the sound all the way down to their bones. The pebbles at Nacht’s hooves started trembling on the ground, and sparks started sputtering from the weapon’s frame.

Nacht herself was quite surprised by the intensity of the reverberations, and the thrumming of the echo cannon made her feel like her head was about to burst. Her eyes watered to the point of uselessness, so she closed her eyes. Her echolocation was similarly overwhelmed however, unable to handle the sheer power rumbling in her hooves. She lifted the mouth of the weapon anyway, guiding the stream by her memory of where the target was.

“Now THIS IS THE GOOD STUFF!!” Nacht cheered, grinning maniacally under her respirator. “SHATTER!! EVERYTHING!! TO DUST!!!”

The pulse hit a high pitch, and the air distorted like reality itself was getting squashed.

The massive crystal, already sparking in preparation for the next shot, immediately cracked upon every facing at once. It trembled for a second, rattling on its base, and then exploded. The entire mass burst with a final thunderclap, showering the surrounding area with jagged, gleaming shards and plasma-hot sparks. The construct base, a huge stone dish with four ensorcelled legs for movement and eyes to detect enemies, split apart under the force of the blast and immediately collapsed into rubble.

The war golem next to it, already aiming at the small black bat pony, reeled back from the detonation. The crystal weapon on its own arm shuddered, cracked, and then also exploded in a burst of glassy shrapnel and electric arcs. Two more detonations boomed through the ravine, suggesting there were more weapons being held further from the ravine edge, but it was rather hard to make out the particular sounds among the hideous wail of the echo cannon unleashed.

“Fang, YES!! That was AWESOME!!” Nacht laughed as she toggled down the sonic pulses. “Why isn’t this a normal sett… huh?”

She frowned down at the echo cannon, which was still shrieking almost as loudly as before. It was also shaking with much greater intensity than usual, and it was wearing out her forelegs fast. Nacht pressed the safety switch to engage it, but this only changed the noise to an equally loud hum that rose and fell in a rapid, unsteady sequence.

“What’s with this thing?! Hey, Acolyte! Why won’t the cannon turn off?!” Nacht shouted.

“WHAT?!” Gears asked, still laying on the ground with his front hooves pressed over his ears. “NO, IT’S NOT TURNED OFF!! CAN’T YOU TELL?!”

“That’s not what I said! How does-” then the echo cannon exploded, cutting her off and hurling her into a stone spire.

Nacht struck the stone with enough force to crack it, and then bounced off to hit the jagged ground and roll across the width of the ravine. Chunks of sharp rock broke against her body, leaving small splashes of blood and bits of damaged armor along her path. Gear Works and Zariyah stared in horror as she slid to a stop, smoke wafting from her body and her wings extended crookedly. Dusk slapped a hoof over his face. Penumbra winced. The remaining Strider got up and turned on its highbeam lumens, cutting through the darkness now that the major threat had been defeated and illuminated the fallen mare.

Gloom whistled as he finally took his hooves off his ears. “Okay, so THAT’S why we don’t have them do that all the time. Makes sense.”

“I explained the safety procedures! Why didn’t she switch it off?!” Gears said in a panic. “Is she still alive?!” He started forward, accelerating to a gallop.

“Wait! Gears, stop!” Dusk shouted. “She’s okay! Get back!”

The Acolyte faltered in his pace, glancing back at Dusk. “Lieutenant, that degree of impact force could easily be lethal! Now that the battle is over we have to help her!”

A war golem dropped into the ravine, its huge, block-carved feet crushing flat the much softer stone below as it was illuminated by the Strider’s highbeam lumens. Its glowing yellow eyes locked on to Gears, and then it started lumbering forward. Its right arm was a mess of ruptured stone and jagged crystal, and while it was obviously less tactically useful without a proper lightning weapon, it was still large and solid enough to easily bludgeon a pony – or for that matter, a tank – to death.

Gear Works slid to a stop and whimpered, but didn’t immediately retreat. Nacht was still on the ground between him and the golem, and while he didn’t have a great deal of data on their behaviors he imagined the war construct would ensure the mare was dead.

Two more of the magic constructs dropped into the ravine after the first one. These ones were damaged in the same fashion as the first, with one arms shattered from the echo cannon’s last barrage. There were also a pair of Keepers clinging to their backs, one on each construct. The wiry, four-armed creatures obviously noticed Gears and the other ponies, but one pointed to Nacht and gripped its clawed hand into a fist, and then the war golem it was riding promptly changed course.

A fan of laser blasts sliced over Gear’s head, striking the advancing constructs, but other than the last Strider none of the other ponies moved to help or attack. Gear Works bolted forward anyway, thinking that the smallest pony of Dagger Squadron might be light enough for him to pick up with his servo arm and still escape.

Nacht twitched, a feral-sounding growl emerging from her throat. Then she rose, climbing upright while emitting a hideous scream.

“EeeeeeeEEEEYAAAAAAAAAAAGH!!” Nacht’s eyes had shrunk to pinpricks, and they twitched back and forth seemingly at random. She didn’t seem entirely aware of her surroundings, but with three war golems marching toward her, her head quickly swiveled to face them.

“Help her! Open fire! Cast that spell from before!” shouted the remaining Strider, his walker charging up another laser volley. The thestral stallions and the unicorn were watching the scene with either discomfort or resignation, but making no move to attack. Only the Dark Acolyte even seemed concerned.

“Nah, it’s fine,” Dusk responded, turning towards the walker, “can you pile on the other pilots and find your way back to a base? I don’t think your unit is mission capable anymore.”

The first war golem stepped up to Nacht, lifting its remaining fist to crush the injured mare. Nacht leapt directly at it while releasing another enraged shriek, and then slammed her hoof directly into the construct’s chest.

The golem’s body caved in immediately, the rock cracking and splintering before the entire body was blown backward. It crashed onto its back and slid to a stop, and a pulsing yellow light shined from the breached stonework of its torso.

The other war golems stopped when the Keepers riding them held up their hands, obviously startled.

“I think your squad lead might need some medical attention after the head exploded. He is alive, right?” Dusk asked, looking up at the Strider.

“Wha… Wha…” the scout walker wasn’t listening, staring over Dusk’s head and beaming its lumens onto Nacht as she leapt onto the damaged war golem. The voice of the pilot sputtered confusingly from its vox caster, unable to form the questions that the situation demanded.

“Well I’ll be a pickled petunia,” Gumball whistled as she watched Nacht hammer the enormous stone man with her tiny hooves. “That little one’s got some fire in her, doesn’t she?”

“I think these ones have something in them besides fire,” Zariyah offered, her eyes narrowing at Dusk.

The war golem shook under the impact of Nacht’s tiny hooves, cracks spreading across its chest and threatening to break its torso apart entirely. Nacht snarled incoherently, an insane, feral grin on her face as she pounded away. She didn’t seem to notice when the construct lifted its remaining hand, and didn’t try to evade when it grabbed her.

The golem closed its hand into a fist, squeezing with all the force its enchanted body could manage. Several cracking noises could be heard from the effort, but it sounded more like rock breaking than bones. The fist started trembling.

Then it burst apart, and Nacht broke free of the golem’s grasp with an angry screech. She landed on its head and then punched both front hooves into the dome, caving it in.

“Okay, seriously, time to go, guys,” Dusk Blade said, pointing a wing down the ravine. “Things are going to get pretty ugly from here on out, and you don’t want to have to walk all the way back through enemy territory on hoof, do you?”

“I, uh… but…” the remaining Strider hesitated, shifting its head toward the route Dusk suggested. The highbeam lumens slashed across the ground from the movement, briefly illuminating the ravine path before settling on Dusk again.

“No buts! Off you go!” Penumbra said cheerily, her ebon vector scooping the pack leader out of the headless wreck of his Strider.

The stallion – still alive but with burns across his flank – coughed painfully as he was carried into the air and dropped onto the back of the active walker. He made no complaint, nodding to the Moon Mage while he grimaced.

“Well, it was nice meeting you folks! Thanks for killing all the enemies for us!” Gumball Glade said happily while a tremendous crash came from another war golem. “Be careful out here!”

“Yes, fine, now go away. Your languid cheerfulness offends me,” Penumbra retorted, lifting Gumball up onto the Strider in same manner she had the lead pilot. “You too, Backfire! Off you go!”

“Spare me your sorcery, witch. I know how to ascend a battlesuit,” Zariyah spat, hopping up onto the walker’s leg and climbing up the small indents and cabling with impressive dexterity. The ebon vector slithering toward her withdrew, and as she reached the top Zariyah leaned back over the edge. “Farewell and good riddance. I will give our a commanders a full recounting of your incompetence.”

“Whatever! Byyyyye!” the Moon Mage said cheerfully, right before a war golem crashed through a pile of rubble and showered her with debris.

A startled neigh came from the Strider, and the pilots riding on top had to cling to its back while it finally whirled about and fled. Penumbra managed to stave off most the shrapnel pelting her by moving the ebon vectors to form a curved wall of force, but she was still spitting out gravel once the war golem lifted itself back up.

The Keeper – scuttling around the construct’s body like an insect to avoid getting crushed by its movements – pulled a small pod from its belt and tossed it to the ground. Then it quickly moved behind the golem’s arm, barely avoiding a burst of splinter fire that cracked against the construct’s damaged armor. The pod rolled along the ground for a second and then suddenly activated with a bright flash and a thundercrack, blasting Penumbra Shard with a ribbon of lightning.

The unicorn screamed in pain and confusion, her vision going white and muscles locking up. The golem shifted toward her to take advantage, but a screaming black body slammed into it and hurled it back to the ground.

“HRRRRYAAAAAAAAAA!!” Nacht braced her rear hooves against the golem’s body while attempting to wrap her forelegs around its arm and pull. The attempt seemed comical, as her short legs didn’t manage to reach halfway around the massive stone appendage.

It seemed less comical when the stone shuddered and cracked. Nacht tore the golem’s arm off and then lifted it up in the air, standing on her hind legs and wheezing. Then she swung the enormous limb into the golem’s head. Once, twice, and then thrice the carved stone was hammered together, breaches and cracks creeping through the construct with every impact.

The Keeper appeared behind Nacht, a dagger in one arm, and it attempted to punch it into the mare’s back. The blade cut through skin with ease, dug a few millimeters into the flesh below, and then… simply stopped, unable to puncture her body any further as blood seeped around the weapon’s edge. Nacht’s wing reached out behind her and slapped the creature aside, like it was trying to shoo away a fly. The Keeper went flying, hurled through the air by the impact and striking another pile of scorched stone debris.

The war golem used the brief distraction and slammed its damaged (but still attached) right arm down onto Nacht, aiming to crush her against its own chest. Its torso quivered and cracked from the impact, and the thestral mare shrieked in pain. It did not, however, physically impair her in the slightest.

Nacht lifted up the disembodied arm and then brought it down again, striking with even more power than before. The arm, the golem’s head, and much of the rock ground below it all ruptured from the impact, turning into jagged rubble.

“Wh… What is… happening here?” Gear Works asked, staring at the ridiculous combat from the middle of the ravine.

Another war golem ran past him, goaded on by the Keeper riding on its back. Two heavy, earth-shattering impacts later and the construct was sent rolling back the other way, the Keeper desperately sprinting to stay ahead of its erstwhile mount.

“Is this… the Element of Pain?” Gears asked, his optic lights narrowing.

“Well, DUH,” Gloom Fang said as he strolled over to the Acolyte. “You think Nacht is strong enough to break stone with her bare hoof?”

Dusk came up on Gear’s other side. “When she’s hurt badly enough she enters this berserk state and her strength increases exponentially. She’s stronger than a normal pony even without it, but once she’s wounded she’s on a whole other level.” He kept a more watchful eye on Nacht as the mare pounced on the war golem like an angry dog, taking it by the leg and swinging it into the wall of the ravine. “She’s also completely insane, so I’m gonna need you to stay behind me, buddy.”

Gears turned to look at him. “Insane? As in, she’ll attack anything she sees?”

“She has enough tactical instinct in her to focus on the things that hurt her first, but yeah, absolutely, she’ll try to kill us eventually. She’s like a rabid badger,” Dusk explained.

“So that’s why you’re not helping her,” the cyborg mumbled.

“Yes. Also it’s pretty funny to watch,” Gloom Fang said with a nasty giggle.

Nacht slammed her front hooves into the war golem again and again, smashing the construct against the wall of the ravine. It attempted to swat her away – quite an awkward motion both because of their respective sizes and from the damage – and the mare kicked its swinging hand instead, breaking it off and sending it hurtling off into the dark.

Suddenly a small lightning arc struck her from behind, and the black thestral shrieked in rage. She turned around, but her movements were sluggish and her muscles threatened to lock up.

A keeper stood several feet away, its head bloodied and one of its arms clearly broken and being held against its stomach. In one of its remaining good hands it held a sparking metal rod, its internals apparently spared from the earlier sonic assault. Another hand drew a dagger, but the creature’s small, dark eyes glanced at it dubiously and it fired another lightning bolt instead.

Nacht growled as the electric arc struck her, but she continued slowly advancing on the Keeper in fits and spasms, fighting against the paralysis in her legs. She didn’t get very far, however, before the war golem pulled itself out of the wall and brought a huge stone foot down on top of her. The ground underneath cracked from the impact, and an enraged, high-pitched shriek emerged from under the golem. It simply lifted its foot and stomped again, and the splits in the stone opened further.

“……” Gear Works looked back and forth at the other two stallions next to him.

“Still fine,” Dusk assured him.

“I think the Keeper is going to shoot her again,” Gears fretted, his ears pinning back.

“It’s the only thing they’ve tried that kind of works, so yeah, probably,” Gloom agreed, pulling off his mask to expose his lower eyes.

“If you weren’t going to help her, you could have spared a hoof for ME,” Penumbra Shard complained, approaching the stallions. Her mane and tail hair was sticking straight out, and the deadly magical tendrils of her ebon vector were busy trying to smooth it.

“You’re also fine,” Dusk said blandly, “AND you’re not in a berserker rage either.”

“A little concern would be nice! That grenade really hurt! What if some beast or magic weapon took advantage to strike me when I was stunned?”

“Only one way to find out,” the Lieutenant replied with a glib smirk under his mask.

Penumbra bristled and surely would have continued complaining, but a sudden gunshot caused her to jump slightly in surprise.

The galvanic rifle round ripped through the Keeper, pitching it backward onto a thick fan of blood. The lightning wand clattered onto the rocks and rolled away and the war golem suddenly hesitated, adjusting to some sort of intuition or programming established with its animating enchantment. This did not change its immediate strategy, and it proceeded to stomp onto the black bat pony three more times. Each impact pressed the mare slightly deeper into the rocky ground, but very noticeably didn’t flatten Nacht into a bloody stain.

The war golem stomped again, but this time its foot met a rather dainty hoof kicking up at it. The two met and the foot broke apart, shattering like an explosive had been driven into its sole.

“HRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAUGH!!” Nacht screamed as she staggered over to the reeling construct.

She slammed another hoof into its foot, throwing the golem end over end. Then she vaulted up while it was still in the air, spearing straight through its torso. The war golem burst apart from the impact, its remaining limbs flung in all directions and its magically inscribed body reduced to dust and pebbles.

Dusk whistled. “Wow. Don’t think I’ve ever seen her quite like this before. That must REALLY hurt!” He leaned over to Gears. “As far as we can tell, her strength increases the more pain she’s enduring. There’s kind of a plateau, I think, because it’s really hard to harm her in this state and there’s probably a practical limit to pain in general, but you get the picture.”

“Uh… that was… the last enemy golem,” Gears said anxiously. “Shouldn’t we be…?”

“Nah, it’s fine. We’ve got this,” Dusk assured him as Nacht stepped out of the curtain of dust.

The mare was a mess, with her hair blood-spattered and matted, her wings slightly crooked, and just about every plate of her armor damaged or completely broken off. Bloody drool leaked from between her bared fangs, and her breaths sounded heavy and difficult. Her eyes had become tiny pink pinpricks, glowing slightly under her haze of agony, and twitching ever so slightly from one new target to another.

“SSSSSHREEEEEEEEEEE!!!” Nacht broke into a run while loosing a feral shriek that had Gears wincing. Every touch of her hooves against the ground ruptured it, leaving a trail of tiny craters in her wake as she made a mad gallop directly for the stallions.

“Three. Two. One,” Dusk counted down, closing his eyes and also slapping his wing over Gear’s face.

A golden flash came from Gloom Fang’s lower eyes. Nacht immediately froze up, her legs locking into place, and then she tripped, tumbling over her own hooves and sliding to a stop in front of the other ponies. The injured mare laid rigidly on the ground, her body propped up on one wing like she was a figurine that had been tipped over.

“… Oh,” Gears remarked, his optic lights blinking down at the helpless mare.

“The poor dear,” Penumbra sighed, standing behind a very smug-looking Gloom. Her horn dimmed and then pulsed, and the ebon vector slipped back into the rocky ground as a new spell began. “Here, let me soo-”

Another gunshot rang through the night and Penumbra yelped in surprise, her spell fizzling as a bullet passed close enough to unsettle her mane. The Keeper that had been lunging at her from behind was cut down in an instant, its twin daggers clattering against the blood slick on the ground.

There was a moment of stunned silence, and then Dusk raised his wing to his ear.

“Oh, that reminds me. Need to turn down the noise dampers. Can barely hear a thing,” he said. “Nice shot, Neuro.”

The sniper shimmered into view nearby, her bright red eyes gleaming from beneath her hood. She mumbled something that was probably a thank you and kept searching the area.

“Are you all right, Miss Shard?” Gear Works asked. “It does not look as if the enemy made contact, but that must have been very jarring.”

“Y… Yes. Very jarring,” Penumbra agreed, quite bitter that only the tech-cultist seemed to care about her nearly being stabbed. Her horn lit up again. “ANYWAY, as I was saying: let me soothe your wounds, little mare. Blessings of the moon and grace of the shadows upon your weary body.”

A column of silvery light beamed down from above, swallowing Nacht’s enraged, quivering body. The various cuts sealed themselves, and Nacht’s labored breathing returned to something resembling normal. She was still fully paralyzed, however, and Dusk grimaced before checking the moon’s position in the night sky.

“Shard, you’re carrying Nacht until she breaks the paralysis,” the Lieutenant ordered.

“What? Why me?” the Moon Mage recoiled.

“Because it’s your fault we don’t have a Strider to carry our dead weight, obviously,” Dusk replied, glaring venomously at her. "Didn't I SAY it was important?!"

“You said that BACKFIRE was important, not the blasted machine! I said I was sorry, what more do you want from me?” the unicorn moaned. “The Acolyte blew up Nacht’s echo cannon! He’s also at fault here!”

“I told her how to keep it from blowing up, but she didn’t understand,” Gears sighed, “but for what it’s worth, I am also sorry for what transpired.”

“Don’t worry about it, Gears. You did your best, and it worked,” Dusk said with a tired smile. Then his eyes narrowed at Penumbra again. “Now let’s get a move on.”

“Can’t he just fix that Strider with the damaged leg?” Gloom Fang asked, picking Nacht up and spreading his wings to balance.

“No. It will take too long, especially now that we know there are Keeper kill teams just wandering around here looking for targets. Plus we don’t have a real pilot anymore,” Dusk explained. “Chop chop, ponies! We’re burning moonlight, here!”

Penumbra groaned as Gloom slung Nacht over her back. The thestral mare was still perfectly rigid, like a dead animal that had been stuffed by a taxidermist, and her partially extended wing forced Penumbra to duck her head out of the way. Gloom shifted Nacht slightly to help her stay in place, and then squinted into her eyes. The mare’s bright pink eyes had expanded and her pupils dilated, reacting to the minimal light levels in the area. While most of the muscles in a body were completely paralyzed under his gaze – the heart and lungs being important exceptions – the eyes could move and perceive more or less freely. When he moved away her gaze followed him, but as soon as Dusk trotted by her focus shifted.

“She’s looking much better now, actually. I think she’s back with us!” the four-eyed stallion said.

“Splendid. Can you un-paralyze her, then?” Penumbra asked.

“Ha! No!” Gloom Fang trotted away happily, following Neuron Dialect and the other stallions into the darkness of the ravine.

Author's Note

This chapter is WAY bigger than the others. I have to get back to under 1500 words per piece, yeesh.

(gif by KlaraPL, chapter art by Taiga Blackfield)