Fatelocked

by Pon13

Rating: teen
Tags: Death, Human, Princess Luna, Gore, Anon, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Second Person, Alternate Universe, Sex, Suicide / Self Harm, Horror, Profanity, Adventure, Violence, Princess Celestia
Length: 23980

Ghost hunting in Equestria

In a world where ghosts and supernatural anomalies are a reality, an unsuspecting human named Anonymous finds himself thrust into a new role as part of a specialized unit dedicated to researching and investigating the paranormal. Offered by Princess Luna herself, the opportunity promises a generous salary, tax-free benefits, and an escape from his mundane existence. However, as Anonymous navigates his new surroundings, he encounters a quirky cast of bat ponies, including the mischievous Aether, the stern Bright Eyes, and the enigmatic Dawnlight. Together, they embark on perilous missions, facing the dangers of dark magic, haunted homes, and the mysteries of Black Hoof Hill.

Published 2023-07-17 21:40:00 UTC
Last updated 2023-09-12 23:12:38 UTC

The Offer

You find yourself navigating the dimly lit, foreboding halls of the ancient castle, regret slowly seeping into your bones after embarking on this midnight exploration into uncharted territory. The weight of unease settles upon you as your gaze meets the stone statues adorning the corridor. Each figure exudes an eerie aura, filling your mind with a sense of anxiety and dread. Were they always frozen in those haunting poses, or did you catch a glimpse of movement? The uncertainty gnaws at your thoughts, but you force yourself to tear your eyes away from the petrified forms, only to be plagued by a surge of unsettling "what-ifs" that flood your mind.

You take a deep breath, attempting to steady your racing heart. It serves no purpose to succumb to paranoia; after all, the last thing you need is for your own mind to deceive you. Surely, if you continue further, you will eventually encounter a guard or perhaps even a servant who can guide you back to the safety of your room. However, an unsettling realization creeps over you as you notice the absence of Royal Guards in this particular section of the castle. This realization further deepens the unsettling nature of your surroundings.

The pervasive silence envelops you, almost deafening in its intensity. Each step you take reverberates through the gloomy corridor, amplifying the feeling of isolation. Straining your eyes in the almost pitch-black darkness, you can barely discern a few meters ahead of you. The inky void seems to thicken as you cautiously make your way forward.

A sudden chill crawls up your spine, causing the hairs on the back of your neck and arms to stand on end. A tingling sensation shoots down your back, reminiscent of an electric shock. You try to dismiss it as a figment of your imagination, but as you continue walking, the footsteps that echo through the corridor no longer sound like your own. Your heart skips a beat, and you freeze in your tracks. Slowly, you glance over your shoulder, expecting to catch sight of an intruder or a fellow wanderer. Instead, all you find is impenetrable darkness, an empty hallway devoid of any signs of life.

"Is anyone there?" you call out into the abyss, your voice echoing through the stillness. An eerie silence hangs in the air, leaving you to ponder which outcome is more disconcerting: receiving no reply at all or hearing an answer emerge from the void.

Seconds tick by, stretching into what feels like agonizing minutes, yet no response reaches your ears. With a mixture of trepidation and determination, you decide to turn your attention back to the path ahead. Just as you do, your breath catches in your throat, and you stumble backward, almost losing your footing. A white, ethereal orb hovers before you, emanating a soft, eerie glow that casts a faint illumination upon the weathered portraits of long-forgotten nobles that line the stone walls.

Seeking cover, you hurriedly slide behind a nearby statue, crouching low to observe the mysterious orb from a safe vantage point. Your heart pounds in your chest as you watch the ghostly light for a few moments, unsure of what action to take. Should you make a desperate escape, fleeing from this inexplicable phenomenon? Or perhaps it's wiser to remain hidden, concealed behind the stone guardian that shields you from prying eyes.

Caught in a state of uncertainty, you choose to bide your time, opting to observe the glowing orb as it levitates a considerable distance above the ground. Its gentle bobbing motion resembles a piece of driftwood adrift on a turbulent sea, further heightening the sense of otherworldliness that permeates the air. Minutes pass, and you find yourself growing more intrigued than afraid.

Taking a calculated risk, you abandon your hiding place, cautiously stepping towards the enigmatic ball of light. Every fiber of your being is prepared to trigger your flight reflex, ready to bolt at the slightest hint of danger should the orb sway in an unexpected manner. As you draw nearer, the orb starts to retreat, moving away from you, only to halt its ethereal dance when you come to a stop.

A skeptical thought crosses your mind, hoping against hope that this isn't some sinister "Will-o'-Wisp" scenario, a mirage of light leading unsuspecting travelers astray. Nevertheless, you continue to follow the glowing orb, maintaining a safe distance. Your experiences with fantasy role-playing games have taught you the perils that often await at the end of such elusive trails, but curiosity outweighs caution at this point.

With the orb as your guide, you traverse the labyrinthine castle halls, allowing it to lead the way for what feels like an eternity. Suddenly, as if it has completed its purpose, the orb comes to an abrupt stop, its radiance slowly fading until darkness reclaims the corridor once more. The absence of its glow leaves you stranded, once again enveloped by the inky blackness, with only your racing thoughts for company.

Struggling to discern the details, you squint, attempting to make out the figure standing beside a nearby door. Slowly, the silhouette takes form, revealing the imposing shape of a Stallion guard. The telltale signs of his bulkier frame and the distinct crest on his helmet confirm his identity. Relief washes over you, and you eagerly call out down the corridor, "Hey, guard! Do you know how to-" Your words trail off as the shadowy figure abruptly turns and disappears into the door.

Stunned by the abrupt vanishing act, you stand frozen, questioning your senses. Fatigue gnaws at the edges of your consciousness, leaving you uncertain if your mind is once again playing tricks on you. However, the distinct lack of sound accompanying the guard's entrance into the room sends shivers down your spine. The hallway falls eerily silent, a void in which even the sound of a pin dropping would echo.

Summoning your courage, you approach the door where the mysterious guard had stood moments ago, grasping the faded golden handle. The touch of the handle sends a chilling sensation through your hand, its icy coldness biting at your skin. Though hesitant, you realize you have no other choice but to open the massive wooden door, curiosity overriding any lingering apprehension.

With a determined push, the handle gives way, and the door creaks open, revealing a room cloaked in darkness. "Hello?" you call out, your voice tinged with unease. Once again, your words are met with silence. Taking a cautious step forward, your eyes scan the room, faint outlines of old sofas, beds, and lockers gradually coming into view.

Compelled to explore further, you take another step, seeking to penetrate the veil of blackness that conceals the room's secrets. Suddenly, the door slams shut behind you, jolting you into action. Frantically, you twist the handle and pull at the door, but it resists your efforts, trapping you inside. The frigid touch of the handle sends a jolt of pain through your hand as you desperately rattle the door within its frame.

Breathing heavily, you turn around to face the darkness, half-expecting to catch a glimpse of the entity responsible for this nightmarish ordeal. Strangely, there is only emptiness, and a sense of disappointment settles upon you. In some twisted way, you had almost yearned for a confrontation, if only to bring this torment to an end.

Feeling for your lighter in your pocket, you retrieve it and flick the flame to life. Its feeble glow casts a dim illumination a few feet in front of you, revealing the visage of a tall pony. Startled, you fumble and drop the lighter, uttering an expletive in your surprise. "Interesting," a voice, unmistakably female, murmurs from the shadows.

Recognizing the voice, you hesitate before uttering, "Luna?" The flame from your lighter dances against the stone-tiled floor, providing glimpses of the pony's regal countenance.

"It is Princess Luna, Anonymous," she corrects you, her tone commanding obedience. The candles scattered around the room suddenly burst into life, casting an orange glow that bathes the ancient stone chamber.

Unfazed by her declaration, you shrug nonchalantly, brushing off the attempt to spook you. "Whatever. Why are you trying to frighten me like that?" you ask, your focus divided between the conversation and locating your dropped lighter.

"Pray tell, why were you embarking on yet another nocturnal exploration of our castle?" Luna inquires, her gaze fixed upon you, her expression tinged with her classic 'I'm not amused' look.

"I got lost on my way to the bathroom," you reply, more preoccupied with retrieving your lighter than with the gravity of the situation unfolding.

Luna regards you with a piercing stare, contemplating your response before finally relenting. "It seems, once again, we must give you the benefit of the doubt. Nevertheless, the results of your actions have been intriguing, at the very least."

"Results?" you pause, halfway through picking up your lighter, realizing the gravity of her words.

"Yes, results," Luna confirms, her voice echoing with regality. "It appears that you possess certain qualities we have been seeking."

"Qualities?" you inquire, struggling to comprehend the significance of her statement.

"Must you repeat our words?" Luna's tone grows slightly impatient. "Yes, qualities. You have exhibited them."

"So, you've been testing me?" you question, a mixture of confusion and curiosity in your voice.

"Watching," Luna corrects, emphasizing her role in observing your actions.

"Watching?" you repeat, the weight of her scrutiny sinking in as the conversation takes an unexpected turn.

Luna narrows her eyes, scrutinizing you intently as you apologize with a sheepish grin. Her gaze softens slightly as she begins to explain, "We have been observing your reactions, curious to see how one would handle encounters with the supernatural."

Chuckling nervously, you admit, "You did manage to spook me a little with that shadow guard. Impressive work with your magic, I must say."

Luna's expression turns serious as she corrects you, "That was no magic, Anonymous."

Confusion and a chill run through you as you inquire, "What do you mean? That wasn't you?"

Luna's voice carries a solemn tone as she reveals the truth, "The anomalies you witnessed were real. The shadow guard you encountered was Night Watcher, a loyal servant who suffered a fatal heart attack on duty over a century ago. Despite our attempts to guide his spirit to the afterlife, his loyalty to my sister remains unyielding."

Your eyes widen in astonishment, and you turn towards the door that the ghostly figure had entered. "Wait, that was a real ghost!?" you exclaim, unable to contain your surprise.

Luna confirms your realization, stating, "Indeed. We assumed you were aware of such occurrences."

Stunned, you stand there, utterly dumbfounded. Ghosts... actual ghosts exist in this world? A momentary internal facepalm follows as you remind yourself that in a world of magical horses, the existence of ghosts shouldn't be so far-fetched.

Seeing your confusion, Luna continues, "Well, the night is drawing to a close, Anonymous. We would like to extend an offer to you."

"An offer?" you snap out of your thoughts, focusing on Luna's words.

Luna sighs, her patience wearing thin. "Once again with the repetition. Very well. We are seeking a replacement for one of my special units."

Raising your hands in protest, you interject, "Hold on, Princess. I'm not exactly soldier material. I'm not a fan of those early morning wake-up calls at five AM."

Luna's gaze meets yours, unyielding. "Then I must ask why you find yourself wandering at three AM? Nevertheless, worry not. This position primarily involves research and reconnaissance."

Curiosity piqued, you respond, "You'll have to explain further. I'm one of those guys who loves reading the fine print."

Acknowledging your request, Luna explains, "The position entails joining a unit dedicated to researching paranormal, supernatural, and magical anomalies."

"So, ghost hunting?" you inquire, seeking clarification.

Luna nods, acknowledging the simplicity of the term. "That is a rather basic way to put it, but yes."

Scratching your head, you admit, "I'm not sure... I've never really gotten into that hobby."

Perplexed by your choice of words, Luna asks, "Hobby? Why use such a term?"

"On Earth, for humans who believe in it, they pursue it as a hobby," you explain, hoping to provide some context.

Luna pauses, seemingly contemplating your words. "I see. If your species views it as a trivial pursuit, then perhaps you should consider this position seriously."

Still unsure, you hesitate in making a decision. Admittedly, you do need a job, as Celestia's patience with your neet lifestyle is wearing thin.

"Two thousand bits per month, starting basic pay," Luna offers, her words causing your jaw to drop in disbelief. Regaining your composure, you cough into your hand and respond, "Well, of course, the financial incentive is appealing. But..."

Luna interrupts, stating, "Tax-free, with all expenses paid by the crown."

Your eyes widen, and the allure of stability and financial security becomes more difficult to resist. "So, where do I sign up?" you ask, a mix of excitement and trepidation in your voice.

With a motion of her head, Luna gestures towards the door, signaling for you to follow. As you enter another hallway, a sense of relief washes over you. The sight of candlelight flickering along the corridor eases the lingering dread from earlier. Additionally, the presence of Royal Guards brings you a comforting sense of security, despite their habit of reprimanding you for running in the halls.

After a few minutes of walking, you find yourself accompanying Luna outside, greeted by the cool night air. Each step on the small stones in the castle's gardens creates a satisfying crunch beneath your shoes. Continuing on, you both enter a meticulously trimmed maze, and Luna warns you to pay close attention to the route, half-jokingly mentioning that she has lost many ponies within its intricate pathways.
Both you and Luna come to a halt, bewildered by the sight of an old, rusty metal hatch on the floor. Luna's horn glows with a soft, ethereal light as she effortlessly lifts the heavy trap door using her magic. The aged lid creaks open, emitting a heavy thunk as it hits the dirt floor, stirring up a cloud of dust and debris into the cool night air.

"Down here," Luna states, her voice carrying a mixture of mystery and anticipation.

Perplexed, you shrug and remark, "Odd place for a dungeon..." Despite your curiosity, you proceed to step down onto the stone staircase, following Luna's lead.

"We used to house prisoners here in the past," Luna explains as you descend further into the depths. The narrow stone staircase twists and turns, seemingly stretching meters upon meters underground. To illuminate your path, old candles sit on cracked stone shelves, their wax-coated surfaces telling tales of centuries gone by.

Aware of the potential danger, you run a hand along the cool, night-chilled wall, seeking balance and reassurance that neither you nor Luna will misstep and tumble down the treacherous stairs. Eventually, the staircase widens, leading you into a long, candle-lit room adorned with ancient dungeon doors made of worn wood and rusted metal. The walls still bear the remnants of old chains and shackles, remnants of a bygone era.

Amidst this historical setting, a makeshift office space occupies the center of the room, featuring an old oak desk covered in dripped, aged candle wax and buried under a mountain of paperwork. The air hangs heavy with staleness and stillness, infused with a chilling coldness. You catch a faint whiff of sulfur, reminiscent of your chemistry classes back in high school.

"Luna, do you smell that?" you inquire, the scent triggering a sense of caution.

"We do," Luna replies, confirming your suspicion.

"Normally, that's a bad sign in this line of work, right? I've seen enough horror flicks to know it's a red flag," you mention, recalling the ominous associations with sulfur in supernatural tales.

"Normally, yes. But down here, it's a sign of a pony named Aether dabbling with dark magic once again," Luna reveals, her tone conveying a mixture of anger and disappointment.

"I thought that was illegal," you state, surprised by the revelation.

"It is, unless one possesses a special license and training," Luna clarifies, her expression stern.

Luna approaches a door where the sulfuric odor is strongest. "Aether! This is Princess Luna. Open up!" she bellows, her voice causing the door to rattle on its hinges as she knocks twice with her hoof.

Curiosity piqued, you approach the door and hear a male voice from within. "Ah, leather-feathers! Hang on, ma'am!"

Luna huffs impatiently but waits outside the door. You hear shuffling and banging noises coming from the room until the door creaks open, revealing a well-built stallion. Tilting your head for a better view, you notice his leathery wings. Your gaze shifts to his gray coat as he grins up at Luna, resembling a mischievous child caught stealing from a cookie jar.

"Aether, please tell us why we smell sulfur?" Luna demands, her tone filled with authority.

"Research, ma'am," Aether replies, saluting.

"Research? In your bunk?" Luna's frown deepens.

"Comfort, ma'am," Aether responds with a smirk.

"Is the lab not up to your standards, or are you attempting to summon a succubus again?" Luna's voice carries a note of warning.

Aether coughs into his hoof. "The results aren't clear enough for a definitive answer, ma'am."

Luna gazes down at Aether, a mix of concern and reprimand in her eyes. "You do realize that utilizing the dark arts for personal gain can result in severe punishment?"

"I do, ma'am," Aether replies, glancing at you with his yellowish-green, cat-like eyes. "Ma'am, I do believe there is a cryptid behind you."

Luna maintains her composure. "This 'cryptid' is Anonymous, a human."

"Human, ma'am?" Aether seems perplexed.

Luna mutters under something her breath before replying, "Yes, human. Now, Anonymous will be joining your unit. I trust you to take care of him."

"You can be certain of that, ma'am," Aether assures her.

"Good. Now, I must return to my duties," Luna states, turning her attention towards the stairs. She offers a final piece of advice to Aether, "Oh, and Aether, I suggest finding an harlot to curb your carnal desires. That - we can overlook. We do not wish to discover evidence of your exploits in the dark arts. While you may be resistant to its corruption, one day it may overpower you." With her warning delivered, Luna ascends the stairs and disappears from sight.

Aether watches Luna's departure, sighing as her tail disappears from view. "One way to ruin a colt's quest for some succubus tail," he mutters to himself. Catching your raised eyebrow, he shrugs his wings. "What? I have specific needs."

Realizing the conversation has taken an unusual turn, you redirect the topic. "So, which bed is mine?"

Aether points to the largest bed on the left, with an empty locker nearby. As you approach and inspect the spacious bed, you open the old locker. The top shelf is empty, but at the bottom, you find a small action figurine. Picking it up, you examine the metal pony superhero, its paint faded, and its edges rusted from the passage of time. Curiosity piqued, you notice that the figurine's tail has a spring mechanism. Pressing down on it with your thumb, the back legs shoot up and out into a bucking motion.

Curious about its previous owner, you inquire, "Who used to own this bed?"

Aether glances up from his notes and responds, "That would be Horned Charge, the minotaur of our unit." He walks up to you, taking the figure in his hoof and demonstrating the same motion. "He passed away a few months ago. He went on a mission with Unit Alpha to Black Hoof Hill."

Noticing the pained expression on Aether's face, you contemplate whether to ask for more details. Aether tucks the toy under his wing and looks up at you, gauging your readiness. "You can ask. You should know what you're getting yourself into."

Feeling a mix of uncertainty and determination, you decide to inquire further. "What happened?"

"We're not entirely sure of the full story, but Black Hoof Hill is an extremely dangerous place. It was even scrubbed from every map by royal decree," Aether explains. "Despite the risk, Alpha Team was tasked with recovering a lost patrol that was supposed to arrive at Hollow Shades but ended up in Black Hoof instead. The reports indicate that the Alpha Team found the lost patrol huddled together in an old schoolhouse, completely petrified."

Realizing the severity of the situation, you add, "At least they were alive..."

Aether shakes his head sadly. "No, actually petrified. Sadly, two members of the Alpha Team and Horned Charge, who volunteered to join them, suffered the same fate."

Confusion fills your voice as you inquire, "Why did Horned Charge go if he knew it was dangerous?"

"He knew it was his end. He had no choice," Aether reveals, his tone laced with sorrow.

Shocked by this revelation, you struggle to comprehend. "He knew he was going to die there?"

Aether offers a knowing smile. "You'll see soon enough. Anyway, let's get you equipped with your gear. You have a similar build to our old minotaur friend, though with less muscle. We can adjust for that, though."

Curiosity mingled with unease, you follow Aether's lead, stepping over chalked runes etched into the stone floor, surrounded by more candles. The sight tells a tale of summoning rituals, if you've ever seen one.

Concerned, you voice your apprehension, "That seems dangerous."

Aether shrugs casually. "It's only dangerous if you open a portal to the lower levels. The old records state that succubae exist on the first level. Although, I'm starting to think I've mistranslated some of the ancient texts somewhere along the line..." He taps his chin with a hoof, pondering over the scattered notes.

Eager to change the subject, you inquire, "So, which bed is mine?"

Aether claps his hooves together, diverting his attention back to the task at hand. "The biggest one on the left, with the empty locker."

Walking toward the designated bed, you inspect it, noting its size and suitability. Opening the old locker, you discover a small action figurine sitting at the bottom. It's a reminder of the bed's previous occupant and the memories associated with it.

Looking up at Aether, you contemplate asking about Horned Charge's fate but decide against it for now. There will be time for such conversations later.

Aether guides you out of his bunk room and down the long corridor until you reach the furthest door from the staircase. He opens it, revealing a spacious store room filled with wooden shelves lined with various supplies and equipment. Pointing towards a desk in the corner, he says, "This is our store room. You can grab whatever you need from here. Just make sure you inform ol' Bright Eyes when you do. She's usually stationed at that desk over there."

"I'll make sure to do that," you reply, noting the importance of following protocol.

"Trust me, that mare sees everything," Aether chuckles as he flaps his leathery wings lazily, creating a gentle breeze. He enters the storeroom, browsing through the shelves. "Ah! This will do. It's Horn's first chest armor. When he first joined, he was scrawny like you."

Without warning, Aether tosses a set of black armor in your direction. You quickly catch it, albeit with some fumbling, and inspect it closely. Unlike the standard guards' armor, it resembles the black Kevlar bulletproof vests you had seen back on Earth. As you press your thumb onto the thick chest pads, you notice a slight compression.

Curiosity gets the better of you, and you inquire, "Is there some kind of powder in these?"

"Yeah," Aether responds, still perusing the shelves. "It's padded with Epon' Salt. It provides protection against possession from lower spirits and safeguards your heart against corruption, which is why it's slightly thicker around the chest area... Well, presuming that's where your heart is... Is it?"

"Yes, it is," you confirm, though a lingering doubt remains about the full extent of the dangers involved in your new role. "Although, something tells me Luna might have lied when she said this job isn't dangerous."

Aether raises an eyebrow, contemplating your words. "Just recon and research?"

"Yes," you affirm. "I'm not entirely sure if I'm cut out for this."

Aether smirks and nods, recalling his own initial doubts. "She said the same thing to me and the others. But the pay they offer should be a dead giveaway..."

"Well, the money did play a part in my decision," you admit, realizing the practicality of financial stability.

"Luna must have seen something in you to offer you the position. Normally, we are selected from the Night Guard," Aether explains, highlighting the significance of Luna's choice.

"Maybe it's just because I'm an alien," you speculate, acknowledging the unique perspective you bring to the team.

Aether bursts into laughter at your remark. "No such thing as aliens, buddy."

You furrow your brow, taken aback by his offhand comment. Before you can respond, he surprises you by shoving an old-looking gun into your hands.

"This is a good ol' salt blaster," Aether explains. "When you encounter dangerous spirits, you blast them to render them powerless for a few minutes."

Examining the weapon, you note its flared muzzle, reminiscent of the blunderbusses used by pioneers hundreds of years ago.

"Yours is a bit different from the rest, designed to accommodate your hands," Aether points out, demonstrating how to load the gem charge down the muzzle, followed by the salt. He then points to the trigger location. "Pull the trigger here."

"Okay," you reply, absorbing the instructions while noting the importance of using the weapon sparingly.

"Just remember not to use it unless necessary," Aether warns. "These things are loud, and having ringing ears and being blinded by smoke doesn't help when you're trying to flee from something that wants you dea—... Oh, and this," he continues, lifting his leathery wing to reveal a silver necklace dangling from it.

"Are these dog tags?" you ask, recognizing the familiar shape.

"They're designed to resemble dog tags, but they serve a greater purpose than merely identifying your fallen comrades," Aether clarifies. As you take hold of them, the tags start to glow, revealing unfamiliar inscriptions engraved on the silver plates. "They're made from the finest silver, imbued with protection magic," Aether explains. "It automatically engraves your name in ancient Equestrian when you hold them."

"I'll take your word for it," you say, realizing the significance of these enchanted tags as you secure them around your neck. "So, when does the training begin?"

Aether ponders for a moment before responding, "Training? We mostly learn on the job. Don't worry, though. We won't be sent on high-risk missions at first. It'll be basic haunted home investigations to start with."

"No boot camp or basic training?" you inquire, somewhat surprised by the unconventional approach.

Aether chuckles and shakes his head. "We're not part of the military like the Army or the Guard. We operate more like an agency, you could say."

"So there's no clause preventing me from leaving if I wish? It's not a 'stabbed in the back of the neck' suicide kind of deal?" you ask, seeking reassurance about your freedom of choice.

Aether laughs, dismissing any concerns. "No, you're free to leave whenever you want. Though there is a two-week notice policy. But I'll warn you, this work can be addictive..."

"Addictive?" you echo, intrigued and slightly wary.

"You'll understand," Aether cryptically responds, leaving the concept open-ended.

Suddenly, Aether's ears twitch, and the sound of multiple hoofsteps resonates from the staircase. Aether glances towards the door and announces, "Looks like the others are back. Come on, I'll introduce you to them."

Stepping back from the doorway, you make way for Aether to greet the four mares approaching. He enthusiastically calls out, "Hey, guys!"

One of the bat mares, with a dark blue coat, rushes forward, pushing her muzzle almost against Aether's face. "What have I told you!" she exclaims, her tone filled with frustration.

"Oh, come on, Bright Eyes," Aether retorts, trying to diffuse the tension. "I already told Luna it was for research purposes..."

Bright Eyes, as she's called, expresses her dissatisfaction with a stern glare. "I swear to the moon itself, if you unleash a demon in this place, I'll personally send you to the lowest levels of Tartarus!"

"Yeah, yeah," Aether waves a dismissive hoof. "Besides, meet our new big guy."

The attention shifts to you as Bright Eyes looks up, her gem-like eyes shining amidst her white, scruffy mane. She examines you and states matter-of-factly, "Well, you must be the human Luna mentioned. I see you've already gotten yourself equipped. I presume Aether has shown you to your bed and locker?"

You find yourself unable to break eye contact with Bright Eyes, fascinated by the unique quality of her eyes. She notices your gaze and responds with a slightly annoyed tone, "Yes, they're gemstones. Good job on your observational skills. Now, go ahead and point them out."

With a huff, she walks away, heading toward the oak desk, and adds, "I have some paperwork to fill. Don't disturb me... That goes for you too, Aether!" The gem-eyed mare sits down then starts organizing the mountain of papers on her desk.

"I wouldn't dream of it!" Aether responds with a mischievous smirk before turning his attention to the other three mares trotting over. "Ah! It's the twins—"

Before he can finish, one of the twin mares, with a blueish-gray coat, swiftly slaps Aether across his face. She then raises her nose in the air, folding her front legs defiantly.

"Luna dammit, it's always the quiet ones..." Aether mumbles, rubbing his cheek. "What was that for, Mini?"

The other twin, with a narrowed gaze and orange eyes, responds sharply, "You know exactly what you've done... Or what you've been doing!"

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Molo!" Aether protests, seemingly oblivious.

"I already said, I have no idea what you—"

Once again, Molo interrupts with a slap, causing Aether to wince in pain. "Ow! Hey, watch it!"

Feeling a tap on your hip, you look down and meet the pink, catlike eyes of the third bat mare, who blows her fringe from her face. "Hey, never mind those three. This is a normal night..."

"Are you sure? She's hitting him pretty hard," you remark, concerned for Aether's well-being.

"He'll be fine," the mare assures you. "Look, he's smiling. He's getting off on it." She then introduces herself, saying, "Oh, and where are my manners? I'm Dawnlight."

"Nice to meet you, Dawnlight. I'm Anonymous, Anon for short," you respond, appreciating her friendly demeanor.

"Likewise," she smiles warmly. "I see you're planning to accept the job, then," she observes, gesturing towards the armor still in your hands.

"I think I'll give it a shot," you confirm, your decision solidifying.

"Good to hear," Dawnlight replies, her gaze shifting to the others. "Hey, guys! You know what this means?"

The bat ponies turn their attention to Dawnlight, awaiting her announcement.

"It means Anon here needs to be inducted," she declares.

As if on cue, the other bat ponies' faces light up with grins, giving you a sense of foreboding.

The Initiation

Everything unfolds in a whirlwind, sweeping you into a dimly lit room that exudes an air of mystery, illuminated solely by the flickering glow of candlelight. As you step further into the chamber, your eyes are drawn to a towering pedestal, upon which stands Bright Eyes, her gaze piercing through you with unsettling gem eyes. The room is shrouded in darkness, and you catch glimpses of others wearing featureless masks, their presence adding an enigmatic aura to the scene. It feels like a surreal moment straight out of "Eyes Wide Shut," where the line between reality and the fantastical blurs.

In a hushed tone, you mutter to yourself, barely audible amidst the ethereal ambiance, sensing an undercurrent of secrecy and anticipation. A part of you can't help but wonder if this gathering will devolve into a satanic orgy, given the peculiar atmosphere. However, before your mind can wander further down that path, Bright Eyes breaks the silence with her haunting voice, calling upon you to take an oath that will bind you to a purpose greater than yourself.

As you look around, the others humming in the darkness, you can't help but feel a mixture of apprehension and curiosity. The weight of the moment dawns upon you as Bright Eyes asks, "Anonymous, do you solemnly swear to protect the living from the clutches of the Dead, the Damned, and the Possessed?" The gravity of the question hangs in the air, urging you to reflect on the immense responsibility that lies ahead.

Your response, hesitant yet willing, escapes your lips, "Errr, Yes?" The uncertainty lingers as Bright Eyes continues, her voice carrying an otherworldly resonance, "Do you pledge your life to the forbidden, the unknown, and the undiscovered?" The words echo in your mind, their implications sinking in. With a mix of determination and trepidation, you answer, "Yes."

A sense of relief washes over you as Bright Eyes acknowledges your acceptance into the organization known as PHEER. However, your confusion persists, and you can't help but inquire about the meaning behind the name. Bright Eyes sighs, slightly exasperated, and explains, "PHEER stands for Paranormal Help, Equestrian Extraction, and Recon. It represents our dual nature—Paranormal Help being the public-facing side, while Equestrian Extraction and Recon are the covert operations financed by the Crown."

Still grappling with the revelations, you manage to express gratitude, tinged with uncertainty, "Right...Err, thanks, I think. So, are we done here?"

Bright Eyes shakes her head, her gaze shifting to Aether, who seems to hold a mysterious box. There's an air of reverence as Aether approaches, placing the box delicately on the altar before you. With a flick of a lock, the box reveals its enigmatic contents—a pony's skull. As you gaze into the empty eye sockets, a chill runs down your spine, a mixture of eerie fascination and discomfort.

Amidst the surreal experience, questions begin to surface. The act feels disconcerting, and you can't help but inquire, "Should I be...?"
However, before you can finish your sentence, you suddenly jolt awake, finding yourself in a hospital bed, hooked up to an intravenous drip. The searing pain coursing through your body intensifies, rendering you incapacitated, and your attempts to call for help prove futile.

Aether's presence by your side only adds to the confusion and distress. Your eyes widen in panic as you witness him tampering with the drip, injecting an unknown substance. In his delirious state, he mutters remorseful words, his tear-streaked face revealing the depth of his despair. Helplessly, you try to scream or utter a word, but your voice fails you, and you can only watch in terror as the fluid infiltrates your veins.

A sense of darkness envelops you as the hospital ceiling fades to black, leaving you in a state of disoriented groaning. A throbbing headache pulsates at the center of your forehead, and as you gradually open your eyes, the sight of a dimly lit stone ceiling greets you. Groggy and disoriented, you sit up, taking in your surroundings. It becomes clear that you have returned to Aether's bunk, or rather, the bunk you remember from the previous day.

As memories flood back, you cradle your head, overwhelmed by the weight of the recent events. You can't help but wonder if these peculiar ponies will be the catalyst for your demise. Glancing over at Aether, who snores softly in his bed, you contemplate whether it's necessary to share your harrowing experience with someone in your unit. Surely, they should be made aware of the danger that looms ahead.

Silently slipping out of bed and searching for your shoes, you make your way out of the bunkroom, closing the heavy door behind you with utmost care. The stillness of the night is interrupted by the voice of Bright Eyes, who greets you from her desk, savoring a cup of coffee. "Anonymous, it's nice to meet someone else who's up early tonight," you hear the gem-eyed mare say as she sips her coffee at her desk.

Curious about the time, you ask, "What time is it?"

"It's six-thirty in the evening. It seemed our little ritual took everything out of you. Another few hours of sleep, and I would have called the medics for you," she replies with concern.

Turning the conversation to a more serious topic, you say, "About last night...I-"

Interrupting, Bright Eyes states matter-of-factly, "You saw your death," as she continues to flick through her paperwork.

Feeling a sense of unease, you ask, "Yeah, you see... is there any chance that talking about it will make me die in a more horrible way?"

She reassures you, "No, don't be silly. It's a vision, not a curse."

Acknowledging her point, you continue, "You see, in my vision, it was Aether who killed me."

Curious about the implications, Bright Eyes asks, "And will there be a problem working with him?"

Alarmed, you exclaim, "What!? He's going to kill me!"

In a blunt tone, Bright Eyes replies, "Then you do not understand your vision."

Frantically, you try to make her understand, "You don't understand. The way he was talking, he killed all of you."

Lifting her head from her papers, the mare with gem-like eyes says, "Then mine must be incorrect. According to my vision, I die by having my skull crushed by Princess Luna herself." She finishes her statement and grabs a cup.

Taken aback, you question her, "And you still work for her?"

"Horned Charge. Have you heard of him?" she asks calmly, taking the conversation into a new course before taking a sip of her coffee.

"Yes, Aether told me about him. What does he have to do with all this?" you inquire.

"His vision was him being trampled under a black horse as he was climbing a hill. The last part of his vision was him falling into a room filled with statues, only to be turned into one by, well, yours truly," she explains.

Realization dawns on you, "...He died at Black Hoof Hill..."

"And he was petrified by a magical anomaly," she finishes your sentence. "Not by me, though. I was over two hundred miles away, working on a case at the frontier."

Confused, you ask, "Why were you in his vision?"

Bright Eyes falls silent and seems to stare into her coffee for a few moments. Eventually, she responds, "I ordered him there, even though he told me about his vision."

Puzzled, you inquire, "...Why?"

"There's no way of escaping it," she replies, her voice tinged with resignation.

Feeling overwhelmed, you curse and rub your face, saying, "Shit! What have I gotten myself into?"

"Fate has chosen for you, Anonymous. Whether you leave us, run, or even try to end your life, the outcome will be similar," she explains.

In a last-ditch effort, you ask, "What if I had never looked into the eyes of that skull thing?"

"It would have been the same. You would have only had the illusion of choice," she replies, her tone filled with a sense of inevitability.

The implications of Bright Eyes' involvement in Aether's vision weigh heavily on your mind. She falls silent, seemingly lost in her thoughts, before finally admitting her role in sending Aether to his fate, despite being aware of his vision. Your shock intensifies, and you can't help but question her motives, seeking an explanation for her actions.

Your heart pounds in your chest, pure dread fills your voice, "I don't want-"

With an air of resignation, Bright Eyes responds, "There's no way of escaping it." The weight of your predicament dawns upon you, and you curse under your breath, realizing the magnitude of what you've gotten yourself into.

Desperation fills your voice as you ask, "What have I gotten myself into?"

Meeting your distress with an unwavering resolve, Bright Eyes assures you, "Like I said, Fate has chosen for you, Anonymous. Whether you try to leave, run away, or even contemplate ending your own life at this very moment, the outcome will remain similar." As the weight of inevitability settles upon your shoulders, you can't help but wonder what would have happened if you had never stared into the eyes of the skull, only to realize that even without that choice, destiny would have unfolded its course regardless.

After the peculiar yet unsettling conversation with Bright Eyes, she gestures with a hoof towards a door and instructs you to have breakfast. Upon entering, you are greeted by the sight you had anticipated: a cold, dimly lit stone room adorned with flickering candles. Dominating the space is a substantial, weathered oak dining table that occupies most of the area.

The table serves as an impromptu showcase, with old, antique silverware haphazardly arranged as a centerpiece beneath a makeshift metal chandelier holding a few lit candles. Your new colleagues gather around the knee-high table in the "mess" hall, settling into their regular spots.

It gradually dawns on you that there are no chairs, only large cushions that have seen better days, their vibrant colors faded and their edges frayed. Holding a plate and a cup of coffee, you meander around the room in search of an unoccupied cushion to sit on. It occurs to you that perhaps chairs are not conducive to the comfort of their wings. Then again, stools could have sufficed, you contemplate.

The clatter of plates, cutlery, and lively conversation interrupts your musings. "Hey Molo, pass the sauce!" Aether calls out across the table, his mouth full of eggs and bacon.
Recalling that Aether was still asleep in the bunk, you wondered how he managed to sneak past you and Brighteyes in the main hall, as you watch the stallion carefully, Brighteyes trots pass you and sits down with a paper.
"Swallow before you speak, Aether," interjects Bright Eyes, engrossed in her reading of the Canterlot Evening Post.
"Not until Molo hands over the sauce," retorts the bat stallion, still chewing his food. "Hold on, Aether! Mini wants some too." Molo passes the ketchup to Mini, who responds with a grateful smile.
"Come on! I need sauce!" Aether impatiently taps his hooves on the table. "Aether, please, just be patient.
"You're behaving like a young colt," admonishes Molo, raising her voice to be heard across the table.
Amidst the chaotic scene and the ongoing argument, a voice emerges beside you. "So, you can eat meat too?" Dawn Light says, wearing a smile as she places her plate on the table with her wing and settles onto the cushion.

"Yeah, you have no idea how thrilled I was when I discovered the castle offers ethically sourced meat. If I had to eat another apple or carrot, I think I would have perished," you reply.

Dawn chuckles softly. "I can only imagine. Living among regular ponies can be quite a challenge in that regard. It's refreshing to dine with another species without them freaking out because I've bitten into a chicken leg."

You nod in agreement, recalling your own experiences when you first arrived in Ponyville. Overcoming that initial hurdle had been a task in itself.

Glancing back at Aether and Molo, who are still engaged in their argument across the table, you can't help but ask, "Is there something going on between them?"

"Hmm?" Dawn looks up from her plate. "I don't think so. That's just Aether being himself. He enjoys riling everyone up."

"Aether! For Luna's sake, just wait!" Molo's voice booms, the table shaking under the force of Aethers drumming hooves. It becomes challenging to keep your coffee steady.

Mini nods at her plate, offering another smile, before passing the sauce back to Molo.

"Thanks," Molo acknowledges, then turns toward Aether, holding up the sauce bottle. "Here's your sauce!"

With a sudden motion, Molo hurls the sauce bottle across the table. However, her throw falls a bit short, causing it to collide with a knife and send it flying towards the bat stallion.

The room falls into silence, followed by a loud yelp as Aether collapses to the floor, clutching his neck. Panic fills the air as Molo jumps up from her seat, knocking over a few cups in her rush, while Bright Eyes remains focused on her newspaper.

Struggling to his haunches, Aether holds the knife, now stained in red, with his front hooves. He pants heavily, his speech strained. "Oh Luna! Oh Luna! Aether, stay stil—"
Molo's sentence is abruptly cut off as she notices Aether's mischievous smirk and the ketchup bottle he holds up. "...AETHER! YOU KNACKERING—"

"Language at the table!" Bright Eyes interjects once again, her gaze still fixed on the newspaper. "And Aether, don't tempt fate. I've warned you about this before."

"Oh, that's cruel," Dawn mutters under her breath.

"Yeah, it's a rather cruel prank," you respond, although deep down, you find it slightly amusing.

As the table begins to shake from Molo's furious barrage of hooves on Aether, you once again hold onto your coffee, trying not to spill it.

"No, it's more than that," the pink-eyed bat pony continues, her voice filled with concern. "Aether's vision from the skull was Molo accidentally stabbing him thinking he was somepony else."

"Oh…" The realization sinks in, and you're taken aback by the gravity of the situation.

"Say," Dawn leans a little closer, whispering, "That reminds me, what was your vision?"

The room falls silent once more. Bat ponies must have finely tuned hearing, as you could barely hear her question despite her proximity.

As you observe the table, Mini continues to chew her food silently but with an intense focus. Aether remains caught in Molo's headlock, both of them staring intently. Finally, Bright Eyes glances up from her newspaper for a brief moment before returning to whatever article has piqued her interest.

"Uh well, my vision... uh..." you stammer, unable to help but glance at Aether.

"Buddy, if I was in your vision, just say it. It's been proven time and time again that the visions are more metaphorical," Aether interrupts, shrugging nonchalantly.

You struggle to find the right words. How can you express it? "It's like... Hey, dude I just met, you're probably going to kill me, or something like that..."

Aether sighs, still within Molo's grip. "Look, in my vision, I die by jumping out of a multistory building with my wings folded. How can that be if Molo stabs me and I bleed out before she can get help?"

"I guess you're right," you concede. "Well, in my vision, I ended up in a hospital covered in bandages. Aether comes into the room and injects some type of poison into my drip..."

"See, that's impo— ACh!" Aether's sentence is abruptly cut off as Molo tightens her grip.

"I knew you were some kind of psychopath!" Molo exclaims angrily, squeezing his neck even tighter.

"I... can't... breathe..." Aether manages to mutter, gasping for air.

"Let go of him, Molo. You should know, that you don't kill him that way," Bright Eyes orders in a monotone voice while calmly sipping her coffee.

Molo glares at Bright Eyes before abruptly releasing Aether, causing him to collapse in a heap, still struggling to catch his breath. "I'm going to wash up," Molo declares, grabbing her plate and exiting the mess room.

"I guess they don't get along," you whisper to Dawn.

"They clash a lot," Dawn replies in a hushed tone. "Molo is quick to lash out, while Bright Eyes' anger is more subtle. So, there are occasional massive showdowns between them."

"Dawnlight," Bright Eyes calls out across the table, capturing your attention. "Since you're so interested in our new recruit, he'll be joining you on your assignment tonight."

"What about Aether?" Dawn inquires.

"Yeah, what about me?" Aether echoes her question, finally pulling himself up and rubbing his neck.

Bright Eyes's attention shifts to the stallion. "You'll be removing all those runes from the floor of your bunk from last night," the gem-eyed mare states matter-of-factly. She continues before Aether can argue back, "And the floors in the rest of this place needs a good scrub."

"Great..." Aether mumbles as he sulks out of the mess room.

"And Mini, I presume it's your night off," Bright Eyes turns towards the silent twin.

Mini nods silently, accompanied by a warm smile.

"Anything planned?" Bright Eyes inquires.

Mini mimes an opera singer hitting the highest notes, placing a hoof on her chest.

"Singing lessons, hmm?" Bright Eyes remarks.

Mini chuckles silently behind her hoof before nodding in affirmation.

"Always a comedian," Bright Eyes remarks as she closes her newspaper and stands up. She sighs and adds, "Another night of paperwork for me then. See you two at first light for the debrief."

After gearing up with your equipment, you and Dawn Light descend the steps of the castle and step into the city below. The sky is painted in a deep shade of purple, illuminated by the radiant full moon, casting a cool, deep blue glow over the cobblestone streets. As you both stroll through the medieval-esque city, you witness the changing of the guards.

The changeover ritual is fascinating to watch. A Night Guard carries a torch, lighting the street lamps where a Day Guard stands. After exchanging their oaths to the princesses, the Night Guard salutes the Day Guard.

"I used to love waking up early and watching the changing of the guard," Dawn reminisces as she trots beside you, clad in her kevlar-like armor, with saddlebags on each side that likely carry the same weight as your backpack.

"It is quite impressive," you agree, still observing the ceremony. "So, where are we heading?"

"Hmm? Oh, right. Just across town. There's a family who hears strange sounds in their attic during the night," Dawn explains.

"It could be rodents," you suggest.

"Could be, but the report states that the family initially thought the same thing. They hired somepony to deal with the problem, but after just thirty minutes, that pony ran out of the house screaming," Dawn recounts.

"Scared of rats, probably?" you speculate.

Dawn chuckles. "There's more to it. After that incident, the family had a young nephew stay over for a few days, and the poor colt fell ill with a peculiar ailment."

"Is he okay?" you ask with concern.

"He's fine. As soon as the on-call doctor advised them to take him to the hospital, his symptoms vanished even before they reached the end of the street. It was as if he had never been sick," Dawn explains.

"So, what do you think it is?" you inquire curiously.

Dawn pauses, biting down on her lower lip, lost in thought. Then, she smirks. "I think I'll let you find out for yourself. You've been asking all the right questions so far."

"I have?" you respond, somewhat surprised.

"Yep, now down here," Dawn points down a side street, "it should be one of these houses."

You both turn and begin following the row of old town houses, occasionally stopping to check the house numbers.

"Number twenty-two. I think it's this one," Dawn calls out to you from across the street.

As you cross the empty street, Dawn removes her saddlebag and rummages through it.

"Shouldn't we knock?" you inquire.

"No, the family isn't home. They're staying at a friend's house during our investigation," Dawn replies. "There it is." She pulls out a large key from her bag.

Holding the key in her mouth, she unlocks the wooden front door and pushes it open with her wing. "After you," she says, still holding the key.

The Assignment

You take a few cautious steps forward, your senses heightened as you enter the dimly lit hallway that leads to the heart of the house—the kitchen. The air carries a faint aroma of freshly brewed coffee, mingling with the comforting scent of spices and home-cooked meals. Soft rays of moonlight filter through the curtains, casting a cool glow upon the cozy living room that branches off to the side.

As you explore further, you can't help but notice the meticulous attention to detail that makes this small house feel like a sanctuary. The walls, painted a pristine white, serve as a canvas for a collection of cherished family pictures, capturing moments of love and laughter frozen in time. Each photograph tells a story, adding a personal touch to the ambiance of the home.

The polished wooden floor beneath your feet is adorned with a long, slender rug that stretches from the hallway to the kitchen entrance. Its intricate patterns and rich colors add a touch of elegance, inviting you to traverse its soft surface. The gentle sound of your footsteps creates a comforting rhythm, amplifying the sense of familiarity within the house. A happy family lives here, you can feel the energy. But at the back of you mind something feels a little off.

"Come on Anon, the ghost's don't normal jump out right away. Besides, nothing seems abnormal so far..." Dawn says walking behind you.

Encouraged by Dawn's reassuring words, you find yourself drawn closer to the kitchen—a place where the magic of culinary creations and shared meals resides. The dining table, positioned in the center of the room, awaits your arrival, its smooth surface cleared and ready as if to be adorned with delicious dishes and lively conversation.

You carefully place your backpack on the dining table, appreciating the solid wood and the way it feels beneath your touch. The table exudes an inviting warmth, as if anticipating the gatherings and moments of connection it will facilitate.

"Good choice. Always use the room with the biggest table to set up our base. It makes organizing things easier," Dawn remarks, placing her saddlebags on the table. She pulls out a small pink glow stick, cracking it on the side. Within seconds, a soft pink glow emanates from her surroundings. "You have one in your bag too."

You reach into your backpack and retrieve a glow stick similar to hers, cracking it on the of the table, causing it to emit a gentle green glow.

"Do we all have different colors? And I thought bat ponies have night vision," you inquire.

"It's mostly so we can identify each other from a distance. For you, it's mostly to see what you're doing. I assume you can still see, right?" Dawn responds.

You nod. "My eyes will adjust soon enough."

"Now, onto the mundane part. We need to survey the house. But before that, let me introduce you to more of your kit," Dawn says, shifting the focus of the conversation.

"Sounds good to me," you reply, intrigued.

"If you retrieve your Ki-meter from your bag, it should look like this..." Dawn pulls out a wooden box with several gauges and dials from her saddlebags.

After a moment of searching, you find a similar device in your own bag.

"This box will be your best friend, as it'll be your eyes and ears," Dawn explains, pointing at the gauges. "Keep it with you whenever you leave the base."

"Alright, but I have no idea what these gauges are indicating," you admit.

"It's simple. The first needle, called Zen, measures the background magic. If the needle moves back and forth slowly, it means the area you're in is in a harmonic state. It will oscillate more erratically if the magic becomes more chaotic. If that happens, run," Dawn elucidates.

You observe the needle swaying in a slow, steady rhythm. "Alright, I understand. And the next gauge?"

"The middle one is Ki, a term borrowed from the Kirins. It measures life energies. At the moment, it should be around the two mark, detecting you. But if I stand a little closer, it jumps to four," Dawn explains.

"So, if it jumps from two to six with just the two of us, it could mean there's something else present?" you theorize.

"Correct. Now, the last one, Tau. Like Zen, it measures magic, but instead of Harmonic and Chaos, it measures Light and Dark. Currently, it should be hovering around zero, indicating no dark magic nearby," Dawn clarifies.

The needle hovers around the one mark.

"For instance, if Zen were normal, but Tau were around seven, that would indicate Dark Harmonic Magic, right? That doesn't make much sense," you inquire.

"Alright, basic magic 101. When we refer to Harmony and Chaos, we're talking about the state of the magic fields. If they flow slowly and rhythmically, they are Harmonic. If they are out of sync and flowing rapidly, they are Chaotic. You're familiar with Discord, right?" Dawn asks.

You hesitate before answering, "...Yeah."

"Well, he uses what you can call Light Chaos magic. When Luna was Nightmare Moon, she used Dark Harmonic magic. There's more to it than that, but that's the basic idea," Dawn explains.

"I think I have a rough idea," you respond, keeping your eyes on the gauges of the Ki-meter.

"Just remember, we call it a Ki-meter because we primarily use it for that purpose. If you're using the Zen or Tau gauges, then it's probably time to run," Dawn advises with a slight smirk. Both of you tuck the glow sticks into straps on your armor.

"Now, let's survey the house. The kitchen seems fine, so let's start with the living room," Dawn suggests, leading the way.

You step into the inviting living room, noticing the dormant fireplace that occupies the center of the space. Two cozy chairs sit in front of it, patiently awaiting the warmth and crackling flames that will bring them to life. Though currently unlit, you can envision the intimate conversations that would have taken place in this cozy setting, imagining the comforting ambiance that will soon fill the room once the fire is ignited.

Your gaze then drifts towards a majestic glass cabinet standing tall in the corner, proudly showcasing an assortment of family ornaments and treasured keepsakes. Each delicate item within the cabinet holds its own tale, whispering stories of cherished memories and sentimental attachments. Their presence adds a touch of nostalgia and a sense of continuity to the living room, reminding you of the bond shared by those who call this house their home.

Pausing for a moment to gather your thoughts, you glance down at your Ki-meter, the device that measures energy and presence. Its readings remain steady and unremarkable, offering no indication of any abnormal activity. The atmosphere in the room feels tranquil, as if holding its breath in anticipation of what lies ahead.

Dawn stands in the doorway, her curiosity evident in her gaze. "Anything?" she inquires, her voice filled with hope for a clue or sign.

You shake your head, a tinge of disappointment mingled with determination in your reply. "No, the Ki levels are normal, as are Zen and Tau..."

A reassuring smile graces Dawnlight's face, illuminating the room with its gentle warmth. "That's a good start," she says with encouragement. "I'll head upstairs, and we can divide the rooms between us."

With a shared understanding, you both embark on your individual paths, ready to unravel the mysteries that await in the upper reaches of the hous

You both go room by room, calling "clear" after a few minutes of observation with the Ki-meters. Once you finish checking the two bedrooms and the bathroom upstairs, you meet again on the landing.

"It all seems clear to me," you report.

"That's because we only tested the baseline for each room. Now, if we enter a room and the readings change, we'll know the environment has changed..." Dawn's ears twitch, and she raises a hoof, signaling for silence. "You hear that?"

You strain your ears, and just above your heads, you can faintly hear a few sudden hoofsteps. Slowly, you raise your Ki-meter and press the back of it against the ceiling. The needle starts to creep up to five before falling back to four.

"Well?" Dawn looks up at you eagerly.

"It reached five then dropped to four," you inform her.

"Not a significant jump, but combined with those hoofsteps, it warrants an investigation of the attic," Dawn decides. She flaps her wings and hovers a few feet from the floor. "Come on, let's open that hatch."

You turn on your heel and walk towards the ceiling hatch, pulling the string and causing the hatch to open with a loud clunk.

"Hmm, the ladder seems to be stuck. Give me a moment," Dawn says, trying to resolve the issue.

You watch as your co-worker fearlessly flies up through the hatch without a second thought. This mare must have nerves of steel or simply be reckless.

"Is it caught on anything?" you call up to the attic, growing concerned.

Silence.

"Dawn?" Worry begins to well up in the pit of your stomach. "Are you alright?"

Suddenly, the ladder clicks and slides down, narrowly missing your head by a few inches.

"Hey, watch it! That would've hurt!" you exclaim, slightly annoyed by the close call.

Once again, there's no reply.

"Alright, I'm coming up," you assert, determined to check on Dawn's well-being.

With cautious steps, you plant your foot on the bottom step and begin your ascent, the ki-meter securely in your grasp. As you pull yourself up into the expansive attic space, a dim green light emanates from the glow stick attached to your armor, casting an eerie glow that reveals the immediate surroundings. The ethereal illumination dances upon the walls, exposing the hidden secrets of the attic.

Your gaze scans the scene, taking in the sight of numerous silhouettes scattered throughout the area. Boxes, weathered and aged with time, stand as silent sentinels, their contents concealed and mysterious. The weight of forgotten memories and untold stories lingers within their confines. Old furniture, worn by years of neglect, is stacked haphazardly, its once-grand stature diminished by the passage of time.

The atmosphere is further intensified by the presence of long, sprawling cobwebs, woven intricately across the corners and crevices of the attic. The gossamer threads, glistening faintly in the green light, drape like delicate tapestries, shrouding the treasures that lie beneath.

The air feels thick and dusty, and the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

"Dawn?" you call out, your voice echoing in the attic space.

You pull your legs up and find yourself in a crouched position, trying to avoid hitting your head on the low roof beams.

"Dawn, if this is some prank for the newbies, you got me," you say, keeping your eye on the Ki-meter.

"Shhh!" Dawn hushes you before pulling you by the hand. "Come here."

She leads you a few feet to the right.

"Now, stay within the ring," the bat pony whispers, pointing down at the ring of salt that encircles you both. "Epon' salt."

"Should I be worried?" you ask, matching the volume of her voice.

Checking your meter once again, the needle sits comfortably at five. Something else is present.

"No, it's just a precaution... Now, listen," Dawn instructs.

You peer into the darkness, straining your ears to catch any sound.

From the far side of the attic, you can hear faint knocking.

"I hear knocking..." you whisper, confirming the eerie sound.

"That seems to be our ghost. Now, let's see, what's the reading on the meter?" you ask, referring to the Ki-meter readings.

"Zen harmonic, Ki Five, Tau one... Did I say that right?" you confirm.

Dawnlight nods approvingly. "Yes, that's correct. It means there's more life energy than there should be, and our ghost appears to be harmonic, probably not a demon or dark spirit. However, keep an eye on Tau because demons can easily deceive, which is why we have the salt circle."

You contemplate the significance of the Ki-meter picking up both you and Dawnlight. "If the meter picks up both of us, I suppose we count as two Ki each?"

"Correct. Although, you can use the dial on the side to fine-tune it," Dawnlight advises.

You run your finger along the side of the device until you find the dial and adjust it. The Ki needle drops to three.

"So now I guess we count as one Ki each," you remark.

Dawnlight nods in agreement. "It's important to fine-tune when necessary, especially in a full unit. Otherwise, you might end up detecting another agent upstairs or in the next room. Now, let's find out who this spirit is. Would you like to ask a question?"

You agree, curious about the ghost's identity. "Sure, what should I ask?"

"Let's start with simple yes or no questions. First, ask if anyone is there—one knock for yes, two for no," Dawnlight suggests.

You direct your question into the darkness. "Is anyone there? One knock for yes, two for no."

Both of you listen intently, and to your relief, you hear one distinct, quiet knock from the far end of the attic.

"Good, now we know it's not a residual haunting. This spirit is aware of our presence. Let's try another question. How about asking if it's a mare or a stallion? One knock for mare, two for stallion," Dawnlight proposes.

You repeat the question, waiting for a response. After a brief moment, you hear one knock from behind you, followed by two more.

Feeling slightly unnerved, you desperately scan the area to determine the source of the knocks.

Dawnlight's hoof presses against your side, offering reassurance. "It's alright. Spirits can move around, and they probably wanted to take a closer look at us."

Curiosity piqued, you inquire about the significance of three knocks. Dawnlight admits uncertainty and suggests asking if the spirit is a filly or a colt.

With anticipation, you ask, "Are you a filly or a colt?"

Suddenly, the floorboards vibrate with a knock just outside the salt ring. Your gaze instinctively follows the vibration, but before you can react, a small black mass shoots away from you and disappears behind some boxes.

"Did you see that?" you exclaim in surprise.

Dawnlight calmly responds, "Don't worry. You just scared her."

Confused, you ask, "What do you mean I scared a ghost?"

"Shh, let me handle it from here," Dawnlight says, assuming control of the situation.

Dawnlight steps out of the salt circle and adopts a comforting, motherly tone. "It's okay, we're here to help you," she coos.

As if in response, a few boxes tumble over, spilling out old antiques from years before. Dawnlight sighs, her voice switches to a stern motherly mode. "Come on now, I've seen far scarier things than that, young filly. I know you've been here for a long time, and your parents are waiting for you. You do love them, right?"

A knock resonates from close to you, followed by four consecutive knocks near you.

"That's Anonymous, he's a friend. But let's not change the subject. Your parents are waiting for you. It's time to go," Dawnlight insists.

Two more knocks ring out.

"You've been making a young colt very ill, haven't you?" Dawnlight confronts.

Feeling a sudden pang of nausea, you clutch your stomach, growing increasingly dizzy with a fever. You wipe your forehead but notice the absence of sweat.

"Dawn, I feel sick all of a sudden," you state before a sickly burp escapes your windpipe.

"Just relax," Dawn whispers, returning to her previous tone. "You're making Anonymous here feel sick. Are you trying to tell us something?"

A knock follows her words.

"I already know. You died during the great plague, didn't you?" Dawn inquires.

Another knock confirms her assumption.

"That was five hundred years ago. I think it's time to let this family live in peace. We know your story, Thatch Straw. Your parents are waiting," Dawn asserts, her smile returning.

The thick air dissipates along with your nausea, and the mood in the attic shifts to match the rest of the house.

"Is she gone?" you ask, seeking confirmation.

"Sure is," Dawnlight assures you.

"How did you know all that?" you inquire, amazed by her knowledge.

"Research. Always look into the history of the house or grounds. During the great plague, this area of Canterlot was the slums, and unfortunately, it was hit the hardest," Dawnlight explains.

"Then you checked the death register from that era?" you speculate.

"Yep, it took me all night to match the name with the address. A small filly died in one of the bedrooms," Dawnlight confirms.

Curiosity piqued, you question why the ghost chose to haunt the attic.

"Her body was stored up here. These houses don't have a basement, and it was well reported that it took days before a coroner came to collect the dead. In the middle of summer, I can't imagine the stench in this part of town back then," Dawnlight reveals, reflecting on the grim past.

Shaking off the somber atmosphere, Dawnlight brightens up. "Anyway, there are a few more tools in your kit that I want to go through with you."

"Sure," you respond, ready to learn more.

Returning to the kitchen, Dawnlight lights a few candles and places them on the table. The warm glow illuminates the area as she rummages through her saddlebags. She then holds up a handheld pickaxe, or rather, a snowpick.

"What do I do with this? Am I supposed to climb mountains or search for ore?" you ask, rolling the small pick handle in your hand.

Dawnlight laughs and shakes her head. "No, compared to the Ki meter, this is your second-best friend. Ghosts, especially poltergeists and demons, love shutting doors or trapping lone agents in rooms. While most poltergeists are just tricksters, demons are a different story. This tool, your pick, comes in handy. You use the flattened end to open doors. If that fails, use the pick end to break through the wood and call for help. Additionally, some demons and dark spirits may try to pull you into a room. In such cases, use the pick end to jam into the floor. As two-legged creatures, they would target your ankles, while we ponies have our tails as a potential target."

Concerned about potential property damage, you ask, "Should I worry about damaging others' property?"

"Not at all. We're insured by the Crown. Princess Luna would rather have you alive than dead because you didn't want to bash through a door in a life-threatening situation," Dawnlight assures you.

Realizing you should have been carrying the pick earlier, you comment on the situation. "So, I should have had this thing with me tonight?"

"Normally, the team leader advises you on the necessary tools. For tonight's assignment, it seems Bright Eyes deemed it safe for a newbie after conducting the research," Dawnlight explains.

Curious about what else is in your kit, you inquire further.

"Epon' salt. There should be a bag of powder," Dawnlight informs you.

You retrieve the bag from your backpack. "This is the stuff in our armor..."

"Correct. I used it in the attic too. This powder provides protection. If you have any doubts about what you're dealing with, create a ring with it. It will keep the majority of paranormal entities at bay and keep you safe," Dawnlight instructs.

"And I use this with the salt blaster?" you ask for clarification.

"Yes, load it up and fire away. Though it won't be needed tonight, you would carry one on more dangerous missions. We'll go through your blaster another time," Dawnlight confirms.

Curiosity piqued once again, you inquire about the next item.

Dawnlight pulls out a small book with a black cover, with a small piece of chalk hanging from a loop in the spine. You reach into your bag and find a similar book.

"This book is also for protection. Each page contains a rune that can be drawn, with the purpose written above," Dawnlight explains.

Flipping through your small black book, you notice numerous rune symbols, mostly circular but with some linear ones as well. Above each illustration, there is text indicating the rune's purpose.
It didn't take long to pack up your equipment and secure the attic door behind you. As you step out onto the midnight streets of Canterlot, a cool breeze brushes against your skin, carrying a hint of mystery in the air. The cobbled streets, usually bustling with activity during the day, now lay deserted under the silver glow of the moon.

Dawnlight's wings flutter gracefully as she hovers next to you, her eyes still sparkling with the thrill of the mission. The two of you walk side by side, the sound of your footsteps echoing softly in the quiet night.

"You haven't stopped smiling since we started packing up. I take it you enjoyed our little mission?" Dawn asks, her voice carrying a lazy yet content tone.

"Yeah, in fact, I did. Knowing that the filly is at rest gave me a warm and fuzzy feeling inside," you reply, a genuine smile gracing your face.

Dawnlight chuckles softly. "I get that too. It means you're a good... well, person. Not a monkey either."

You share a light-hearted laugh as Dawnlight stumbles over her words. Despite being from different worlds, there's a connection between you, a camaraderie that transcends species.

"Sorry. You know, it's weird. You're a cryptid, but it's like talking to another pony sometimes. It's almost like you're not a furless bipedal primate," she muses, her eyes filled with curiosity.

"Technically, I'm an alien from Planet Earth," you say, raising a hand with your palm facing Dawn. "I come in peace, take me to your leader!" you add in a cheesy, stereotypical martian voice.

Dawnlight giggles, her laughter infectious. "...Really? How come SMILE hasn't caught you yet?"

"Trust me, they tried. Took them all day to pry me out of Celestia's bathroom... It's a long story. Besides, SMILE is supposed to be top secret," you reply, a mischievous glint in your eyes.

"We work with them from time to time. Ugh, trust me, if you're on an assignment with them, just keep out of the way. It's all protocol this, report that... Makes me want to kick those stupid shades right off their faces," Dawnlight grumbles, a hint of frustration in her voice.

"Sounds like you have a bit of a history with them," you observe, sensing her underlying annoyance.

"Some. The assignments always end in arguments on who is leading who. They think that because they're governed by Celestia, we should kiss the ground they walk on," Dawnlight replies, her voice tinged with a mixture of exasperation and defiance.

As you continue walking down the streets of Canterlot, you reach a familiar area—Main Street. Normally bustling with activity, it now lays empty, the cobblestones bathed in a soft glow under the moonlight. A few guards patrol or stand watch at posts, adding to the serenity of the night.

You gaze up at the sky, taking in the breathtaking display of stars. Constellations stretch across the vast expanse, creating a mesmerizing tapestry of light.

"I guess there are still a fair few hours left till dawn," you remark, mesmerized by the celestial beauty above.

"There is. So, we need to find something to do!" Dawnlight declares, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes.

"A midnight tour?" you ask, intrigued by her suggestion.

"Something like that. Come on, this way!" she urges, nudging you to turn left toward Canterlot station.

You both enter the quiet train station, a hushed atmosphere enveloping you as you step inside. During the day, this bustling hub serves as a vital connection for travelers, but now, with the sun setting on the horizon, the station is closed for the night. The remnants of daytime activity still linger, with traces of passengers' comings and goings evident throughout the space.

The ticket booths, though unattended at this hour, stand as a testament to the station's functionality during the day. Neatly arranged chairs await weary travelers, their emptiness now emphasizing the stillness of the late hour. The platform, once filled with bustling footsteps and conversations, is now bathed in a serene silence, interrupted only by the distant echoes of departing trains.

"Don't worry, Anon. There's nothing here. Now follow," Dawnlight reassures you, fluttering toward a gated doorway at the bottom of the second platform.

Relieved by Dawnlight's reassurance, you gather your courage and follow her lead. With each step, a renewed sense of curiosity propels you forward, eager to discover what lies beyond the gated doorway at the bottom of the second platform.

Dawnlight's wings flutter gracefully as she approaches the rusty gate, a symbol of the station's forgotten past. She applies pressure, and with a resolute push, the gate groans and reluctantly gives way, revealing a hidden passage. The locks, remnants of a time long gone, have succumbed to the wear and tear of countless years, allowing access to this mysterious realm. "The locks have been broken for years," she explains. "Down here, come quickly, or we're going to miss it."

"Miss what?" you ask, your curiosity piqued, as you eagerly trail behind Dawnlight, descending a flight of metal stairs. The steps, crafted from sturdy steel, emit a faint metallic echo with each footfall, a rhythmic symphony that accompanies your journey into the depths of the station.

"You'll see. You might want to crack open another glowstick," she suggests.

You oblige, snapping another glowstick to illuminate the path ahead. The stairs lead you deeper into the underground, and as you descend, the air grows colder, thinning as if you're entering a different realm. Finally, you reach a level with old stone-tiled flooring. The silence intensifies, and a sense of anticipation builds within you.

As your gaze scans the surroundings, you discover a solitary underground platform, a testament to a bygone era. With cautious steps, you make your way toward the edge, drawn to the faint glimmer of green light that illuminates a pair of rusty rails. Time has not been kind to the once vibrant tracks, now marked by the relentless corrosion of neglect.

"Alright, it's an underground platform. Why are we here?" you inquire, eager to uncover the secret behind Dawnlight's excitement.

Dawnlight's smile widens, her eyes gleaming with anticipation. "Just wait a little longer. But if you follow the rails to your right, you'll see the exit to Canterlot's abandoned tunnel two. Look to your left, and those rails lead to the mines in the mountain."

You peer down the tracks leading to the mines, a seemingly endless expanse of darkness stretching before you.

"I imagine this place would have been pretty smoky from those steam trains," you comment, imagining the atmosphere filled with billowing clouds of smoke.

"They were," Dawnlight confirms. "According to old accounts, this place had a rudimentary air filter system. Though state-of-the-art at the time, if you look above you, you'll see long pipes."

You crane your neck to gaze upward, spotting the black pipes hanging from the ceiling. "I see them."

"Those were the filtering systems. On the upper level, where the first platform is, there were steam pumps that brought in fresh air and extracted the smoke. However, when the trains left the station, the poor miners would get covered in soot. They called it the 'morning soot' or being 'soothed' when you boarded the train," Dawnlight explains, her voice tinged with a mix of historical knowledge and empathy for those who endured such conditions.

"It sounds like those miners had it tough. I can't imagine being smoked out on the way to work," you remark, acknowledging the hardships of the past.

"Back then, miners were still considered the underclass here in Canterlot. Their health wasn't a concern; it was all about getting them to work on time. But things have changed since then," Dawnlight says, her tone filled with determination.

"You sure love your history," you note, appreciating her wealth of knowledge.

"I do! Trust me, knowing this stuff has saved my flank a fair few times. Now, shh!" Dawnlight interrupts, her eyes suddenly sparkling with excitement.

You listen to the complete silence coming from the platform exit and mine entrance tunnels. Faintly, you hear a distant clanking and chugging of what reminds you of a train.
You listen intently as Dawnlight explains the phenomenon you're witnessing. The distant clanking and chugging sound becomes more distinct, resembling the rhythm of a train. However, you are certain that trains don't run at this time of night.

"I hear a train, but they don't run this time of night, do they?" you inquire, your curiosity piqued.

Dawnlight's grin widens as you both hear a faint whistle in the distance. "What we're experiencing here is a residual haunting," she explains, her eyes gleaming with excitement.

As the sound of the train grows louder, you feel a rush of air sweep past you, carrying the distinct smell of burning coal. The scent fills your senses, confirming your suspicion.

"I think the train is here," you mutter, your eyes fixed on the empty tracks stretching out before you.

Dawnlight's enthusiasm is palpable as she approaches you. "The next part is my favorite, but I need you to do something. A male's voice seems to work best. Shout 'all aboard' really loud."

You raise an eyebrow, a mixture of confusion and anticipation filling your expression. "Why?"

"Just do it! Trust me," Dawnlight urges, her voice filled with anticipation.

Reluctantly, you clear your throat and shout, "ALL ABOARD!" The sound of your voice reverberates through the underground platform and echoes into the mines.

Feeling slightly ridiculous, you turn to Dawnlight, waiting for an explanation. Her gaze is fixed on something down the platform, and she motions for you to watch.

"What am I seeing?" you ask, your eyes following her hoof.

"There," Dawnlight points, a glimmer of excitement in her eyes. A single orb bobs towards the tracks, followed by another.

"Wow... Are they...?" you trail off, unable to find the right words.

"Shh! Just watch," Dawnlight whispers, her attention focused on the ethereal spectacle.

Before your eyes, you're surrounded by countless orbs, floating and slowly bobbing toward the rails. Their soft light illuminates the surroundings, creating a surreal and mesmerizing sight. You stand there, awestruck, as the orbs continue to drift past you, disappearing once they cross over the edge and disappear.

Minutes pass, and the last of the orbs evaporate as they cross the threshold.

"That was cool, or what?" Dawnlight asks, her voice filled with wonder.

"That was... something," you reply, struggling to find the words to describe the experience. "Were they... the miners?"

Dawnlight's smile fades slightly as she nods. "Yes, those were the miners. Although it's an awe-inspiring sight, it has a sad story behind it."

"What happened?" you inquire, your voice tinged with sympathy.

"What we saw there were the two hundred miners who never came home from work," Dawnlight begins, her tone somber. "Due to their underclass status, their work conditions were deplorable. They were crammed into the carriages, nose to tail, with no seats. The journey to the furthest mine took almost an hour, and the heat and smoke were unbearable."

"It sounds like a recipe for disaster," you remark, your heart heavy with the weight of the tragedy.

"It was. The train caught fire due to a furnace rupture, instantly killing the engineers. Many of the miners, packed tightly, had nowhere to run and burned to death. Some survivors who tried to return on foot ended up suffocating due to the lack of air," Dawnlight explains, her voice filled with sorrow.

"A rough way to go. But those orbs... are they their spirits?" you ask, curious about the ethereal entities you witnessed.

"Kind of. It's a residual haunting," Dawnlight responds, her gaze fixed on the empty tracks. "It's like seeing a snapshot of time. We're still not fully sure what causes it, but after a tragic event like this, enough energy gets stored in the stones. It's like a cinema projector replaying the event. I assure you, every spirit has crossed over, and what we're witnessing is just a replay."

"So, no spirit is trapped here?" you seek confirmation.

"No," Dawnlight confirms, shaking her head. "The event will continue to play out until the area runs out of residual energy. This anomaly used to occur every week when it was first discovered decades ago, but now it's just every month or so. Early reports of this haunting mentioned seeing the train smoke and headlamps coming from the tunnel. And the orbs were actually shadow figures. It goes to show just how much energy was stored here."

"I'm glad I got to witness it. Thanks for showing me this, Dawn. It was pretty fascinating," you express your gratitude, despite the sadness surrounding the event.

"Well, I've got one more place to show you. It doesn't have a sad story behind it; it's just... weird. Not spooky weird, just your above-average weird," Dawnlight says, a hint of excitement returning to her voice.

"Alright, sounds good. Lead the way!" you reply eagerly, ready to embark on the next intriguing adventure with your co-agent.

You and Dawnlight leave the station, continuing your walk through the quiet streets of Canterlot under the enchanting blue moonlit sky. The conversation shifts to your home planet, Earth, and Dawnlight's curiosity about what it's like living there.

"I don't know, it was called Earth before I was born," you reply with a shrug. Dawnlight's expression reflects her fascination as she glances around at the houses lining the street.

"What is it like on Earth? Your home, I mean," she asks, her curiosity shining in her eyes.

"It's mostly the same as here, but more technologically advanced, and there are no talking equines," you explain, realizing the difficulty in capturing the essence of your world in a few words.

Dawnlight scrunches up her muzzle in confusion before responding, "That's a bit vague... Wait, there are ponies in your world?"

You nod, smiling at her bewilderment. "Yes, there are ponies and horses too. But they are considered animals and look nothing like the ponies here."

"I guess that makes sense. You do look like a chimp," Dawnlight remarks, causing you to playfully feign offense.

"Hey! I'll have you know, we evolved from a chimp-like species. They are our close cousins, in fact," you explain, enjoying the opportunity to share a bit of evolutionary biology.

"Really? What about ponies in your world? What do they look like? And why can't they talk?" Dawnlight's curiosity continues, her questions flowing naturally.

"Well, they are much taller than here, with longer muzzles and smaller eyes. They don't possess magical abilities like here, so they are essentially just animals," you respond, trying to paint a picture of the stark differences.

Dawnlight's expression reveals her fascination. "What about pegasi and unicorns?"

"They don't exist as they are depicted here. They are purely mythical or classified as cryptids in our world," you explain, knowing how deeply ingrained these fantastical creatures are in Equestrian culture.

"And you knew about pegasi and unicorns before coming here?" Dawnlight asks, her curiosity growing.

You chuckle, remembering the folklore and legends from your world. "Oh, absolutely. Pegasi, unicorns, and even dragons are dotted throughout our myths and legends. But trust me, trying to reconcile it with reality can be mind-boggling. It even drove Celestia's top student a little crazy. She spent days without sleep, trying to make sense of it all."

Dawnlight lets out a laugh, seemingly entertained by the thought. "I won't dwell on it too much, but it is fascinating. What about bat ponies?"

You contemplate her question before responding, "The closest equivalent in old fairy tales would be thestrals."

Dawnlight's reaction is priceless. "You're kidding..."

"I'm not," you assure her, knowing that the ancient race of thestrals is long extinct.

"It's not that; thestrals are ancient history to us bat ponies. Think of them as bat ponies, but as tall as the princesses," she explains, her tone conveying a mix of awe and astonishment.

"I take it they're extinct?" you inquire, already anticipating the answer.

Dawnlight nods solemnly. "Yes, they are. We are the descendants of the thestral race. Many eons ago, there were two main races in Equestria: the Alicorns and the Thestrals. A war broke out between them, and as you can guess from who resides in the castle, you know who won."

"Celestia and Luna," you respond, the history of Equestria slowly piecing together in your mind.

"Correct, though it was a pyrrhic victory, and Equestria's lands were left devastated," Dawnlight elaborates, her voice tinged with a sense of sorrow for the past.

You take a moment to absorb the information, realizing how little you knew about Celestia and Luna's early years, as they rarely spoke of it. "How did the other races come to be?"

"That, I'm not sure of. That part of history has been scrubbed from the records," Dawnlight admits, leaving the gaps in Equestrian history open to speculation.

Deciding to shift the conversation, you ask, "Are we nearly there yet? We've been walking for ages."

"It's just around this corner," Dawnlight responds, pointing towards a narrow street ahead.

As you turn the corner, you find yourself on a typical Canterlot residential street, with cobblestones and old townhouses lining each side. At first glance, nothing appears out of the ordinary.

"We're here!" Dawnlight chirps, pointing at a house with the number 233. It seems like a normal house for this part of Canterlot, with an old-style tiled roof, an attic window, and wooden-framed windows adorned with crests on the upper floor. The large bowed windows on the ground floor and the old oak front door complete the picture.

"It's a house, but is it haunted?" you inquire, peering at the seemingly ordinary dwelling.

"Not quite. This house doesn't exist," Dawnlight reveals, her voice filled with intrigue.

"But I can see it," you protest, confused by her statement.

"Yet it doesn't exist. There's no record of this house ever being built, sold, owned, or even appearing on any map of Canterlot," Dawnlight explains, emphasizing the anomaly.

"Could it have been an oversight? Maybe the numbering of the houses is incorrect," you suggest, searching for a rational explanation.

"It's possible, but here's where it gets even more interesting. Find a stone and throw it at the house," Dawnlight urges, assuring you that this isn't some prank.

You hesitate for a moment, unsure about vandalizing the mysterious house. But after considering Dawnlight's reassurance, you find a stone on the road, pick it up, and throw it at the house.

To your surprise, the stone passes right through the house, as if it were a mere illusion.

"I didn't expect that to happen," you admit, intrigued by the peculiar phenomenon.

"Weird, isn't it?" Dawnlight remarks, sharing in your astonishment. "PHEERs agents have been pondering over this anomaly, but so far, we have no answers."

You contemplate the situation, concerned about the implications. "Is it safe to leave it like this? Shouldn't the area be closed off?"

Dawnlight shakes her head. "Unless someone points it out to you, everyday ponies would simply walk by without noticing. Even the neighbors believe the house is vacant."

"Is it still worth trying to stop the anomaly?" you inquire, concerned about the potential consequences.

"Some things are best left alone. Sometimes, the paranormal should be treated like a wild animal. If it isn't causing harm, then it's better to leave it be," Dawnlight responds, her voice filled with wisdom.

"I presume there's a risk of provoking something more sinister if we intervene?" you suggest, recognizing the potential dangers.

"Yeah, a benign spirit can turn dark if provoked enough. The same rule applies to cryptids," Dawnlight explains, motioning for you to continue walking. "Let's go. I'm starving, and we still have a few hours left. I suggest we grab a snack before heading back."

Your growling stomach agrees, and you respond, "Sounds good."

Together, you and Dawnlight continue your journey, leaving behind the enigmatic house and venturing towards a well-deserved snack.

The Shades

Next evening, you find yourself seated on the last train to Hollow Shades, eagerly awaiting the journey ahead. The train emits a steady chugging sound as it departs from Canterlot, and the rhythmic rocking of the carriage creates a soothing ambiance. You settle into your seat, gazing out the window as the scenic landscape unfolds before you.

The train carves its way through the sprawling hills that stretch out like gentle waves in the fading light. The vibrant hues of orange and purple paint the sky as the sun gracefully descends below the horizon, casting its final golden glow over the land. The world outside seems to come alive, with the rolling hills donning a serene beauty that captures your attention. The play of colors across the sky evokes a sense of wonder, as if nature itself is bidding farewell to the day.

Amidst the picturesque scenery, Aether, your companion, yawns and leans his head against the window, seeking some respite from his weariness. However, the train's movements cause his head to unintentionally thump against the glass, jolting him from his drowsiness. He stirs, slowly awakening from his brief nap, his expression a mix of grogginess and mild annoyance. It makes you wonder if he got any more sleep than you did. All night you kept one eye open wondering if you're killer would strike. While any other person would run from this situation, but oddly, you find yourself in good company around Aether - At least in public anyway.

"I hate early evenings..." Aether grumbles, his voice laced with a touch of sleepiness.

Offering a sympathetic smile, you respond, "It's not too bad. I've been up since three PM."

Aether lets out a resigned sigh, rubbing his eyes to banish the remnants of sleep. "Says the day walker..." he mutters, as if lamenting his own nocturnal tendencies. He then realizes his task at hand and sits up, focusing on the purpose of your journey together.

"Supposedly, I'm here to check your kit for this assignment. I hope you brought everything," Aether remarks, his voice now tinged with a sense of responsibility.

Confidently, you assure him, "I've got my Salt Blaster, Armor, Pick, Epon' Salt, Ki Meter, and Rune Book."

Satisfied with your response, Aether nods approvingly. He retrieves some papers from under his wing, preparing to discuss the mission details. His tired eyes meet yours as he asks, "Has anyone gone through the Rune Book with you?"

Recalling your recent interaction, you reply, "Dawn went through it with me yesterday. She showed me the protection rune and the cleansing one too."

"Alright, that should be all you need for this assignment. But before we proceed, let me show you one more thing. Fetch your book and flip to the sixth page," Aether instructs, his tone indicating a mixture of seriousness and intrigue.

Eager to learn, you reach into your backpack and retrieve the weathered black book. Turning the pages, your eyes fall upon the rune inscribed on the sixth page, inviting your curiosity. Its intricacies become apparent—a square with a triangular protrusion on both the top and bottom sides.

Intrigued, you inquire, "What does this one do?"

Aether leans closer, a spark of knowledge igniting in his eyes. "Well, read it," he responds, gesturing for you to delve into the mystery of the rune.

You hesitantly admit, "I can't read Equestrian."

Aether's expression softens, realizing the limitation. "Ah, my apologies. That rune is a lock. If you suspect the presence of a portal resulting from a summoning, draw this rune at the location. It will effectively halt any further spirits from crossing over."

Contemplating the significance of this newfound knowledge, you inquire further, "Do you think I'll need this rune for our assignment?"

"More than likely," Aether replies, his voice tinged with a hint of caution. He retrieves his saddlebags from beside him and produces a small bag filled with white rocks.

Curiosity piqued, you ask, "And what are these?"

Aether's eyes gleam with a mixture of seriousness and practicality. "Salt stones. They possess both physical and spiritual properties, capable of inflicting pain on the entities we encounter," he explains, tossing you the bag. "Before firing your weapon, stuff a few of these in the muzzle. It should buy you some valuable time."

Grateful for the additional knowledge, you accept the bag and reply, "Alright, I hope I won't have to use them."

Aether's tone becomes more earnest as he emphasizes, "You probably will. Just make sure those creatures never get too close to you."

Taking his warning to heart, you respond with a resolute nod. "I'll remember that."

A flicker of a smile tugs at the corner of Aether's lips, momentarily brightening the mood. However, as a silhouette of a tree-lined hill passes by outside the window, his expression shifts, and a somber veil descends upon him.

Inquisitive, you inquire, "What's the matter?"

Aether's gaze lingers on the passing trees, and a tinge of sadness colors his voice as he replies, "...That hill behind those trees. That's Black Hoof Hill."

Understanding dawns upon you, and you utter the name with a mix of reverence and empathy, "Horned Charge... You were friends with him?"

Aether nods, his eyes filled with memories. "One of my best friends. We all understand the risks of this job, but his passing was still a shock, you know?"

Sympathy fills your voice as you respond, "I can only imagine."

"Yeah..." Aether gazes at the tree line for a moment, lost in his thoughts. He then shakes his head, as if willing himself to let go of the sorrow. "Anyway, we're almost at Hollow Shades."

The screeching of metal against metal pierces the air as the train comes to a halt at the old station. You peer out the window, taking in the sight of a solitary platform devoid of any buildings. The atmosphere surrounding Hollow Shades seems frozen in time, far removed from the luxuries and modernity of Canterlot.

"Is this our stop?" you inquire, casting a questioning glance at Aether.

He nods, a hint of nostalgia tugging at his features. "Indeed. Hollow Shades, a place untouched by the passage of time. Don't expect the comforts you're accustomed to back in Canterlot."

You pause, absorbing his words, before a realization dawns on you. "Wait, so where do we sleep?"

Aether smirks, his voice tinged with irony. "In an old dungeon we jokingly refer to as our base."

A chuckle escapes your lips. "Luxury indeed. Especially for bat ponies like yourself."

He feigns offense, raising an eyebrow at your remark. "Easy there, Anon. No need for racism."

Perplexed, you question, "How is that racist?"

Aether's expression softens, a mischievous glimmer dancing in his eyes. "Oh, because bat ponies have sharp canine teeth that resemble fangs? Are you implying we're vampires?"

Realizing the jest, you laugh and playfully defend yourself. "Hey, it was just a lighthearted joke. Besides, aren't you calling the kettle black here?"

Aether feigns innocence, shaking his head. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"You called me a cryptid, and I find that offensive. I'll have you know I'm an A-class alien," you retort, mock seriousness lacing your words.

His smirk grows wider as he retorts, "Aliens don't exist."

You raise an eyebrow, maintaining a deadpan expression. "Says the bat pony who believes in mythical creatures."

Aether chuckles, realizing he's been outmatched. "Touché, Anon. Touché. But let's focus on the task at hand, shall we?"

As you step off the platform, the darkness envelops you, with only a soft yellow glow emanating from Aether's glow stick and your own. Following the glow, you make your way into the pitch-black night, heading towards the village of Hollow Shades.

Engaging in conversation, you inquire, "Have you ever seen a human before?"

Aether shakes his head. "No, never."

Curiosity piqued, you continue, "Do you know where I come from?"

He replies with certainty, "Earth."

You emphasize the keyword, "Planet Earth. The keyword here is 'planet.'"

Amusement colors his tone as he chuckles, "Where are you going with this, Anon?"

Leaning into your point, you explain, "If I'm from another planet, then by definition, I must be an alien."

Aether raises an eyebrow, his tone playful. "You're telling me planets exist?"

You gesture towards the sky, where the deep blue canvas is adorned with countless sparkling stars. "Look up there. Those are planets."

Aether looks up, studying the stars, and then glances back at you with a grin. "Anon, those are stars. Luna creates them when she unveils the night sky."

You protest, caught off guard. "That's impossible!"

He counters, enjoying the exchange. "Well, isn't it Celestia who moves the sun across the sky?"

You reluctantly admit defeat, recalling the day Celestia herself demonstrated her celestial power. "Fine, you have a point there. But you're just denying things to annoy me!"

Aether laughs heartily, denying your accusation. "No, no, I'm simply stating the facts."

Deciding to drop the debate, you concede, "Alright, let's just drop it."

Aether's laughter subsides, and he gazes around, assessing the darkness. "Alright, bud. It's not me who's having an identity crisis here. Now, our SMILE agents should be at a camp just outside the village."

Your eyes strain to see beyond the few feet illuminated by the glow sticks. The silhouette of treetops stands stark against the deep, dark blue sky. Together, you navigate the darkness, walking for a few minutes until the distant flickering of a campfire comes into view, casting a warm and inviting glow.

Approaching the camp, your eyes are drawn to two tents basked in the warm, orange glow of the crackling campfire. Aether clears his throat and calls out, "Hello? I'm looking for a top-secret organization called FROWN. Or sometimes known as useless?"

From one of the tents, a female voice responds with annoyance, "Ugh, that'll be the PHEER agents."

To your surprise, you recognize the voice as a mare emerges from her tent. Without hesitation, she swiftly moves towards you, covering your mouth with her hooves. "It's Agent Sweetie Drops!" Bonbon orders, her voice muffled by her hooves. "You do not use that name—" She pauses as she realizes your face feels different beneath her hooves. "Huh? That's not fur..."

A grin spreads across your face as you confirm, "It's been a while."

Agent Sweetie Drops pulls back, looking up at you in disbelief. "Anonymous?... Are you?"

"I joined PHEER," you announce, revealing your affiliation.

"I was going to say 'lost,' but that comes as a surprise too..." Agent Sweetie Drops mutters, processing the unexpected reunion.

Aether, who had been observing the encounter, interjects with curiosity, "You two know each other?"

"That's classified," Bonbon responds sternly, her tone leaving no room for further discussion.

Aether huffs in frustration. "Alright, Anon, you know her?"

Grinning mischievously at Aether, you reply, "It's classified."

"Oh, come on! It's a simple question," Aether groans, his curiosity piqued.

Turning your attention back to Agent Sweetie Drops, you ask with a playful tone, "How's 'You Know Who' doing?"

Agent Sweetie Drops lets out a sigh and admits, "She's... fine, still a little obsessed with you."

"Figured as much," you respond, recalling the previous encounters with her.

Attempting to redirect the conversation, Agent Sweetie Drops changes the subject, eager to get down to business. "Anyway, let's get started. You both know your assignment?"

Aether takes the lead, stating the objective, "Yarras. We stop them from entering the village while Anon and I locate the portal."

"Good," Bonbon chimes in, pulling a metal briefcase from her tent. She presses her hoof against it, and with a series of clicks and clanks, the case opens. "I have another agent back in the village. I'll rendezvous with him. Meet us back here at first light for the debrief."

From the case, Bonbon retrieves a pair of mechanical goggles and puts them on, activating them with a press of a button. The goggles emit a high-pitched whine before glowing green.

Noting the practicality of the goggles, you comment, "Nightvision goggles? I could use a pair of those."

Gasping in surprise, Bonbon rushes back to you, her eyes wide. "These are highly classified. How do you know about them?"

You explain matter-of-factly, "We have them back on Earth..."

Bonbon is at a loss for words, sighing in defeat. "Oh... just... hmm..." She mutters, realizing the connection. "Nevermind then." She picks up a hoof-worn crossbow and turns towards the darkness. "Just be careful out there. Remember, back here at first light."

"Yes, ma'am!" Aether responds, giving a mock salute as Bonbon trots off in the direction of the village.

Turning to Aether, you seek guidance. "Now what?"

Aether's attention is momentarily fixated on Bonbon's retreating figure before he refocuses. "Huh? Oh, right." He walks over to the campfire and settles down, gesturing for you to join him. "We wait."

"Wait?" you echo, seeking clarification.

"Exactly," Aether replies with a hint of impatience. "Just keep an eye out for lanky white ponies."

"With no head," you add, emphasizing the distinguishing feature of the Yarras.

Aether nods in agreement. "With no head."

You and Aether engage in idle chatter, passing the time as the night wears on. Each of you takes turns collecting firewood to keep the flames alive, maintaining a comforting glow amidst the darkness. As the conversation fades into the crackling of the fire, you notice a somber expression settle upon Aether's face. His gaze wanders into the night, seemingly fixed on something you cannot see.

Curiosity piqued, you try to follow his line of sight, but find nothing out of the ordinary. Turning back to observe the stallion, you can't help but feel a strange mix of conflicting emotions. Despite the circumstances and the knowledge that he may be the one responsible for your demise, you have forged a bond with him, treating him as a friend.

Your thoughts involuntarily drift back to the hospital bed, recalling the image of Aether's tear-stained face. Tears... He was crying. Shaking off the memory, you return to the present, only to be met by Aether's piercing gaze fixed directly upon you.

"You're kind of spooking me out there, bud. What's with the stare?" Aether asks, breaking the silence.

Caught off guard, you stammer, "Huh? Nothing... Just thinking..."

Aether shakes his head, his voice filled with sincerity. "It's about me killing you, isn't it?"

Silence hangs in the air as you grapple with your thoughts. Aether's reassurance echoes in your mind, "Anon, I already said, I wouldn't kill you without reason."

Frustration washes over you, and you rub your eyes, attempting to find clarity amidst the confusion. "But what does that mean? Without reason? What if I say the wrong thing? Do something? Steal your lunch?"

Aether's expression shifts, holding a straight face for a moment before bursting into laughter. "I would take that last one seriously, yes," he jokes, lightening the heavy atmosphere.

You can't help but feel a mix of emotions, torn between amusement and unease. "How can you laugh at this?"

Aether's laughter subsides, and his tone becomes serious. "What else can you do in the eyes of fate? Anon, if I were to kill you, it would have to be a world-ending event, alright? I'm not a killer."

You rub your chin, contemplating his words. "That's what a killer would say..."

Aether's ears droop, his expression turning solemn. "I'm being serious."

You let out a sigh, realizing the complexity of the situation. "I was joking, but this whole thing is messed up..."

Aether sighs in agreement. "Brighteyes intentionally paired us together. Maybe she wants us to resolve our differences early on, before you become fully integrated into the unit. Trust issues can get ponies killed."

The weight of his words sinks in, and while they don't make you feel better, you acknowledge the truth in them. "That's not comforting, but you have a point."

Silence settles between you, and together you watch the flames dancing in the campfire. It becomes evident that, one way or another, you are stuck with each other. The thought of quitting crosses your mind briefly, but the words of Brighteyes from the previous day echo in your thoughts. If she is right, there is no escaping your fate.

You continue staring into the flickering flames as a burning log falls deeper into the fire, sending a shower of embers into the night sky. Breaking the silence, you divert the conversation by changing the subject. "So, where are you from?"

"Hollow Shades," Aether responds, his tone devoid of emotion.

"You didn't mention that before," you note.

Aether's gaze remains fixed on the fire, lost in thought. "It's not something I really talk about. I was an orphan here before..." He trails off, his voice filled with a hint of sorrow.

"Before what?" you gently prod, sensing his hesitation.

"Hmm?" Aether looks up at you, momentarily disoriented. "Oh, right. The Royal Guards took me from my caretaker... the one who took me in. It's a long story."

Understanding the sensitivity of the topic, you reassure him, "It's alright. I won't push."

As the campfire starts to dim, Aether leans over to gather more wood. "It's your turn, bud," he states, tossing the last log onto the fire.

You hesitate for a moment, glancing at the dark expanse beyond the campfire. "Shit, not again. It's creepy out there..."

Aether chuckles, offering encouragement. "Come on, bud. Grow a pair."
"Alright, fine..." you mutter under your breath, a tinge of annoyance in your voice, as you rise to your feet and make your way towards the nearest tree line, the weight of the Salt Blaster resting on your shoulder.

After a few minutes of walking, you enter the dense forest that envelops Hollow Shades. With the limited illumination provided by your glow stick and trusty lighter, you fumble around, searching for logs that are manageable enough to carry back to the camp.

As you throw a few logs into a pile on the forest floor, a sudden rustling breaks the eerie silence that permeates Hollow Shades. Your body tenses, freezing in place like a deer caught in the glare of headlights. You try to dismiss the sound as the wind, but there's an unsettling stillness in the air. Not a single leaf stirs.

Slowly, you tuck your lighter into your pocket and bring your Blaster to the ready, your finger poised on the trigger. The suspense heightens as you strain your ears, hoping to discern the source of the sound.

Snap.

You hold your breath, your heart pounding in your chest, as the echo of the snapping twig reverberates through the silent forest. A chilling sense of foreboding washes over you, intensifying the already palpable tension in the air. Still, nothing comes into view.

An unsettling thought flickers in your mind—what if it's not just an innocent animal? The mere idea sends a wave of unease coursing through your veins. You try to push it away, to convince yourself that it's just your imagination running wild in the darkness.

Between the narrow gaps in the trees, your eyes widen with both fear and curiosity as you catch sight of something moving. It's tall, unnaturally so, gracefully maneuvering through the dense foliage. A white leg steps over the underbrush, its immense height dwarfing your own. Your mind races, searching for rational explanations, but finding none.

Still facing what you're seeing at the edge of the forest, you force yourself to back away slowly, inch by cautious inch, never breaking eye contact with the mysterious figure. Every instinct tells you to run, to flee from this unnatural presence, but you fight the urge, your determination to retrieve the logs overriding your fear.

With trembling hands, you sling the Blaster back over your shoulder, doing your best to maintain composure. You scoop up the logs, their weight providing some semblance of comfort in the face of the unknown. Your heart pounds against your chest as you turn on your heel, mustering every ounce of courage to retreat swiftly back to the camp.

Sweat beads on your forehead as you arrive at the camp, your nerves still frayed from the encounter. But as you drop the logs and desperately search the tents for any sign of Aether, a sinking feeling grips your stomach. He's nowhere to be found.

"Aether?... Aether!" you call out, your voice laced with a mixture of worry and desperation. Silence hangs heavy in the air, further heightening your anxiety.

Just when panic threatens to consume you, a familiar voice breaks through the tension, sending a jolt of relief coursing through your body. "Sorry, bud. Needed to take a leak, then ended up pissing like a race pony..."

You turn towards the sound, your eyes wide with both gratitude and anticipation. Aether emerges from the shadows, his presence a welcomed sight amidst the darkness.

Still trembling from the encounter, you manage to gather your voice, urgently expressing, "I think I saw one..."

"One of our lanky friends?" Aether questions, his voice laced with a mixture of curiosity and skepticism.

You nod, affirming your earlier statement. "Yeah, its leg was taller than I am..."

"Doubt that," Aether replies, scanning the surroundings with a hint of doubt in his eyes. "They're tall, but not taller than three ponies tops. Are you sure it wasn't a tree? Your mind can play tricks on you when you're scared."

Your conviction remains unwavering as you firmly assert, "I know what I saw."

Realizing the urgency of the situation, Aether concedes, "Alright, alright. Calm down. Let's grab our gear and head to where you saw it."

Agreeing with his suggestion, you lead Aether back to the spot where you had picked up the logs, your finger pointing into the dense tree line to indicate the location.

Aether's ears twitch, his gaze fixated on the forest. "Something is out there," he murmurs, a tinge of apprehension creeping into his voice.

Swiftly, he starts rummaging through his saddlebags, producing a fresh glow stick before retrieving his Ki-meter. The atmosphere grows tense as he fine-tunes the device, his expression turning increasingly grave.

"...Now that's worrying," Aether finally admits, his voice laden with concern.

Puzzled by his reaction, you inquire, "What's worrying?"

Aether hesitates for a moment, his eyes widening as he absorbs the readings displayed on the meter. "Hang on," he mutters, adjusting the settings again. "I'm getting a Ki-reading of... Ten, no... Twelve... Fourteen..." He looks up at the forest, his expression a mix of astonishment and alarm. Under his breath, he curses, his voice strained. "Anon, get back to camp..."

Reacting swiftly, you sprint back to the safety of the campfire, with Aether closely following behind you.

With no hesitation, Aether retrieves his bag of Epon' salt and swiftly creates a protective ring around the campfire, forming a barrier between you and the encroaching danger.

Curiosity and fear wrestle within you as you ask, "Does the salt stop them? I thought these things were physical..."

Aether explains, his voice steady but cautious, "It's more of a repellent. Hopefully, since we're not the ones cursed, they should bypass us."

Together, you both stare from the safety of the camp, fixated on the treeline. Gradually, a tall, dark figure stumbles out of the forest, prompting Aether to mutter, "I've never seen those things that tall before," as another one follows suit.

Soon, dozens of these cryptid-like beings pour out of the treeline, their movements eerily silent and lacking any sense of purpose.

"What are they doing?" you whisper, fearful that the slightest noise could trigger a stampede of these menacing creatures towards the camp.

Aether's whispered response carries an air of uncertainty, "I'm not sure. This isn't right. They should be heading towards the village."

Doubt lingering in your mind, you seek confirmation, asking, "Are you sure these things are Yarras?"

Aether nods, his certainty unwavering. "Other than their increased height, I can safely say they are."

As you both watch the creatures stumble aimlessly in the moonlight, your attention is drawn to one of them. It sways momentarily before starting to scuff the ground, capturing your interest. Urgently, you nudge Aether, pointing towards the peculiar behavior.

"It's digging..." you whisper, your voice barely audible in the tense atmosphere.

The Yarra continues its mysterious digging, scuffing the ground until it raises its massive leg and brings it down with force. In an instant, a loud crackle accompanied by a brilliant flash of blue light erupts from around its hoof.

Recognizing the phenomenon, Aether interjects before you can ask, "Ah, it looks like SMILE has planted Protection Wards... They're slate rocks inscribed with runes, charged with unicorn magic."

Hope flickers in your eyes as you inquire, "Do we have them?"

Aether's expression darkens slightly, disappointment evident on his face. "No, SMILE always gets the good stuff while we get a stick of chalk. Besides, as you can see, they're useless here. The Yarras can still physically break them."

"No, SMILE always gets the good stuff while we get a stick of chalk. Besides, as you can see, they're useless here. They can still physically break them," Aether remarks, disappointment tainting his voice.

Slowly, the herd of Yarramares begins its coordinated march towards the village, their unsettling forms towering above the ground.

"It looks like it's showtime," Aether whispers, his grip tightening on his blaster as he tucks it securely under his wing. "Stay quiet and let them pass. The portal shouldn't be too far from the treeline; they emerged from there quite close together."

A knot forms in the pit of your stomach, unease settling in. Your heart pounds in your chest as you watch the eerie procession drawing nearer. The Yarras' peculiar movements and headless forms send chills down your spine.

As the first Yarramares pass by, their unsteady gaits drawing them closer to the camp, your breath catches in your throat. The atmosphere becomes nerve-racking as one of the creatures stumbles precariously close.

You hold your breath, your body tense with fear, praying that the Yarra doesn't detect your presence. Every second feels like an eternity as it teeters on the edge of discovery.

Thankfully, by some stroke of luck, the Yarra continues its wavering path, its focus fixated on the direction of the village. A sigh of relief escapes your lips, and you release the breath you had been holding.

As the Yarra passes by, its lanky form mere inches from your hiding spot, you feel a rush of gratitude for escaping its attention. The encounter leaves you trembling, acutely aware of the precariousness of your situation.

With a mix of apprehension and relief, you watch as the rest of the herd shuffles by, their disjointed movements and headless figures etching themselves into your memory.

The batpony nudges you, and without hesitation, you both bolt toward the treeline, the urgency in your movements fueled by a heightened sense of dread. You glance over your shoulder, relieved to find no pursuit behind you.

As you enter the forest, the stillness is broken by the sound of snapping twigs and rustling leaves under your feet. You crack a new glowstick on your knee. The feeble green glow of your glow stick casts a dim light, illuminating only a few feet ahead, leaving the vast expanse of the forest engulfed in darkness.

Reaching for your backpack, you retrieve your Ki-meter, squinting to read the fluctuating gauges. The Ki readings oscillate between eight, six, and ten, indicating a volatile energy presence.

"Ki is all over the place, getting readings between six and ten," you whisper to Aether, who carefully maneuvers through the foliage beside you.

"I don't see any Yarras, so we must be getting close. Keep your eye on Tau," Aether advises, his voice hushed.

"Tau? What should we do if it spikes?" you inquire, your voice laced with unease.

"If we're not dealing with portals, then yes, we run. But this time, we're using it to locate one," Aether explains, his tone filled with a mixture of caution and determination.

You press forward, navigating through the dense tangle of trees, ducking under low-hanging branches and gingerly sidestepping fallen ones. The oppressive atmosphere weighs heavily upon you, the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end, and goosebumps prickling your skin.

Following Aether's guidance, you tilt and turn the Ki-meter within the limited illumination of your glow stick. The Ki reading fluctuates between two and twenty, with Zen remaining steady while Tau's needle begins to bob gently.

"I'm getting a Tau reading here, Aether," you call out, the tension in your voice palpable.

"We're getting near. Keep searching until you get a Tau spike," Aether responds, his voice determined.

The Bar

"Let's get this straight," you say, your mind processing the newfound information as you and Dawn stroll towards Canterlot Castle. The weight of the revelation sinks in. "So, if it's a Doppelganger, seeing yourself means certain death, encountering a Changeling drains your emotions, and a Skinwalker... well, that would simply involve having your face devoured."

Dawn chuckles, attempting to lighten the mood. "I would have worded it less morbidly, but you've got the gist of it. These three creatures are what we refer to as mimics. The Doppelganger is a spirit, while the Skinwalker and Changeling are classified as cryptids. Although, after the invasion and our subsequent discovery of Changeling society and their queen, they are now considered enemy combatants rather than mere cryptids."

"So, it's the Royal Guards' responsibility to handle them?" you ask, seeking clarity.

"Indeed, it falls under their jurisdiction. However, we still come across these creatures from time to time," Dawn responds, motioning towards a narrow alleyway. "This way," she sings.

Your eyebrows raise in surprise. "I envisioned a cozy bar or a mysterious midnight cafe, not getting mugged in an alley."

Dawn chuckles once again, her voice laced with amusement. "Don't worry. We are indeed heading to a bar, and it happens to be the best one around. It's where everyone from the PHEER organization gathers."

"Something tells me this place is a dive..." you remark, eyeing the narrow, rickety stairs that descend into darkness. The wooden steps creak with every cautious footfall, giving a sense of age and weariness. As you approach the entrance, you notice the front door—a weathered, peeling monstrosity that bears the scars of time. Its paint, once vibrant and welcoming, has long since faded, leaving only a dull, worn surface.

"How did you guess?" Dawn chuckles, her amusement evident. "Now, down here," she sings again, her wings guiding her gracefully down the treacherous staircase. The dim light casts eerie shadows on the walls, creating an atmosphere of mystery and intrigue.

You follow Dawn, descending the worn steps and standing behind her as she knocks on the rusty metal door. The sound reverberates through the confined space, blending with the faint echoes of distant conversations. The door itself bears the signs of neglect, covered in patches of rust that flake off with every touch.

"Let me do the talking," Dawn whispers to you, anticipation hanging in the air. After a moment, you hear the distinct sound of a grinding metal latch sliding across on the other side of the door.

With a groan, the heavy door creaks open an inch, revealing a gruff voice from the other side. "Last orders rang two hours ago. Leave," it grumbles, the weariness evident in its tone.

"I guess the bell tolls," Dawn replies with a hint of resignation. The door swings open wide, revealing the interior of the bar, where warm light and muffled laughter spill into the darkened alley.

You step forward, ready to follow, only to be met by a massive, gray Earth pony blocking your path. His tired, dark blue eyes fix on you with an unwavering gaze, his imposing stature casting a formidable shadow. His presence alone feels like an impenetrable barrier.

You've dealt with bouncers back on Earth before, usually with less-than-desirable outcomes. Arguing with someone of his intimidating size and strength would likely end in trouble. Dawn, already inside, calls out to you. "Are you coming or what, Anon?" she asks, gesturing for you to join her.

"He's not letting me in," you respond, frustration tinged in your voice.

"Just ignore him. Come on," Dawn urges, waving a hoof, seemingly undeterred by the bouncer's rejection.

"I don't think he'll let me pass," you express your concern.

Dawn lets out a sigh, slipping back into the bar. "Wait there, Anon. I'll talk to the owner and get you in. Stay put. Buff, you keep an eye on him," she instructs, casting a glance toward the formidable bouncer.

Standing there, you can't help but notice the overpowering scent of his aftershave that assaults your senses. It fills the air with an intense, almost suffocating aroma. Did he bathe in it or something?

"So..." you start, rubbing the back of your head nervously. "Nice night, huh?"

The bouncer grunts in response, his tired expression unchanged.

"...Busy night? You look tired," you continue, attempting to strike up a conversation.

He grunts again, uninterested in small talk.

Realizing your attempts are in vain, you resort to grunting back, meeting his challenge.

Bulk narrows his eyes, responding with an even louder grunt.

Accepting the unspoken contest, you grunt forth once more.

"What are you two doing?" Dawn's voice interrupts the grunting match, coming from behind the stoic stallion.

"Let him in, Buff," a male voice calls out from within the bar.

Buff grunts once more, begrudgingly stepping aside.

You step through the doorway, feeling Buff's intense gaze following your every move. Pausing for a moment, you nod at him and grunt again, a gesture of gratitude. In response, he grunts back.

"I wouldn't annoy him too much, Anon. If you want to know what happens when you push Buff too far, ask Aether," Dawn warns as you follow her into the bar, leaving the bouncer behind.

The smell of stale smoke and booze permeates the air, confirming your suspicions about the bar. This place is undeniably a dive. Round tables, scattered throughout the room, occupy the worn wooden floor. Each table bears the marks of time, with chipped surfaces and graffiti etched into their worn edges. You had expected the establishment to be crowded, but to your surprise, only a handful of ponies occupy the dimly lit space. The majority of the patrons seem to be off-duty nightguards, seeking solace after a long shift.

"Well, I never thought I'd have a cryptid in my bar," a stallion calls out from behind the counter, his voice carrying a mix of surprise and intrigue.

The bar owner, named Tender, sports an off-white apron that contrasts with his dull dark purple coat and black mane. He polishes a glass with his front hooves, his gaze fixed on you, awaiting your response.

"More like an alien. I come in peace and all that..." you shrug, trying to maintain a casual demeanor amidst the unique surroundings.

Tender chuckles, a warm smile spreading across his face. "I like you. The name's Tender. Do you know what beer is?"

"Pint, no large head," you respond, asserting your preference.

"You'll get what you're given, besides the ones in the house. Accept it as a peace offering between our planets," Tender remarks, his eyes glimmering with a playful twinkle.

You smirk, appreciating the banter, and make your way toward the bar as Tender slides a foaming beer in your direction.

"Anon, I need to talk to Tender for a minute. I'll order the food. What do you want?" Dawn interjects with a smile, her attention shifting momentarily.

"I'll have what you're having... Just no hay," you reply, the thought of a hotdog sounding more appetizing.

"Hotdog it is then. Go and find a table; I'll be over shortly," Dawn instructs, her voice filled with warmth and camaraderie.

"Sure," you nod, scanning the room for an available table. You aim to find a spot away from the bustling bar area, yet not too isolated. After a brief search, you locate a table that meets your criteria—a quiet corner where you can observe the bar's ambiance without being in the midst of it all.

Among the tables, your eyes lock onto a familiar face—Mini. She sits with her hoof propping up her cheek, wearing a disappointed expression. Her deep ocean blue mane is styled into a ponytail, with two bangs framing her face.

"Mini?" you ask, making your way over to her.

She looks up, her large orange eyes widening in recognition as she cocks her head to one side.

"I thought that was you," you point to the empty chair opposite her. "Is this one taken?"

Mini shrugs and waves a hoof, signaling for you to do as you wish.

Placing your pint on the table, you pull out the chair and take a seat. "Something tells me tonight didn't go as planned."

The silent bat pony frowns and points at a still-full pint glass sitting next to yours.

"So someone stood you up? A date?" you inquire, sympathetic to her situation.

Mini nods slowly.

"Ouch. You know, this reminds me of my first date..." You begin, offering her a reassuring smile. "I managed to charm a lovely blonde back on Earth—outgoing, nice legs, beautiful eyes. She had it all. I decided to take her to the fanciest restaurant in town..."

As you continue with your story, Mini's expression transitions from disappointment to contentment as she listens intently.

"...The meal went fine, and when I called for the tab, we headed home," you huff, shaking your head. "The strange part was, she asked me to drop her off at a house thirty miles outside of town. Well, being the person I am, I agreed, and we set off in my car-"

Upon hearing the word "car," Mini gives you a confused expression, accompanied by a shrug.

"It's like a chariot, but it has a machine that propels it instead of a horse or pony. It gets you from point A to point B fast," you explain, cursing yourself for the inadequate description. However, Mini nods, indicating she has a rough idea.

"So everything seemed fine until she pulled out a gun—well, more like a salt blaster or a smaller version of a musket designed to kill," you hold up two fingers, indicating the size of a pistol. "Anyway, she retrieves it from her purse. Being weaponless, I had no choice but to pull over and stop the car..."

With her hooves held up to her mouth, Mini mimes a gasp, her eyes wide with shock.

"Yeah, once we were outside, she ordered me to hand over all my possessions and strip. Then, she proceeded to put everything in the car and drove off, leaving me miles from town, butt naked and alone... So, I guess you could say she 'walked' on me."

A smirk forms behind Mini's hooves as she stifles her laughter, unable to maintain eye contact with you.

"You can laugh. That's all I can do when I think about it," you say, your smile genuine.

Her hooves drop, and Mini bursts into silent laughter, wiping a tear from her eye. For some reason, you feel like she finds the situation even funnier than you do.

Suddenly, you feel a puff of air against your ear, accompanied by another assault of the bouncer's overpowering aftershave.

Turning your head, you come face to face with those familiar, tired blue eyes glaring at you.

"Is this creature bothering you, miss?" Buff asks Mini, his voice stern.

The bat mare shakes her head, dismissing his concern, and waves him away. She points at you, then forms a "U" shape by her mouth with her hooves, indicating that you were making her happy.

"Well, if there's any trouble, let me know, and I'll make him disappear," Buff offers, a hint of threat in his words.

You tilt your head, looking at Buff, then back at Mini. "You know, I bet Buff here is single."

Mini smirks and flicks a hoof dismissively.

"Yeah, you're right. He's too much of a talker. Can barely get a word in," you joke, leaning back in your chair.

Buff moves closer, his muzzle inches from your cheek, and snorts a blast of air at you before finally departing.

"Actually, deep down, I bet he's a sweetheart..." you muse aloud.

Mini rolls her eyes, shaking her head in amusement.

"Food has been ordered," Dawn calls out, trotting toward you. "Oh, hi Mini!"

Mini waves at Dawn Light with a warm and friendly smile, happy to see her.

"Are you enjoying your night off, Mini?" Dawn asks, her voice filled with concern.

Mini points to her full glass, then back to herself.

"Somepony walked out on you?" Dawn inquires, her brow furrowed.

Mini nods, a hint of disappointment in her expression.

"Why?" you ask, curious about the reason for her failed date.

Mini huffs and points to Dawn's armor, indicating that her line of work was the issue.

"Aww..." Dawn pulls Mini into a comforting hug. "Don't worry, Mini. You'll find a special somepony someday."

The silent mare sighs but manages to smile at the gesture.

"How did he find out? I'm not sure how you would communicate that you're working for PHEER," you ask, realizing that your question might be sensitive.

Mini points to Tender, who approaches the table with two plates balanced on his leathery wing.

"What?" Tender asks, setting the hotdogs on the table.

"Apparently, you ruined Mini's date," Dawn informs the bartender.

"Oh, that guy freaked out when I told him Mini here works for PHEER," Tender explains.

Mini folds her front legs and frowns, feeling disheartened.

"He would have found out eventually, Mini..." Dawn tries to console her.

The mute mare looks defeated, her disappointment evident.

"Mini, look, I'm sorry. I didn't know he was your date... Anyway, I need to get back to the bar. You two enjoy your meals," Tender says, returning to his station behind the counter.

You reach over and grab your hotdog, thanking Tender as he walks away. Turning to the two mares, you express your curiosity, "What's the problem with working for PHEER? We're doing good, right? What's with the stigma?"

"It's the danger that comes with the job, and the fact that work becomes your life. It's not exactly settled-down material," Dawn explains, her expression showing some discomfort with her choice of words.

Mini's gaze shoots towards Dawn upon hearing her response, her face twisted with envy.

"Mini..." Dawn reaches out to her, but she is abruptly pushed aside as the silent bat pony leaves the bar. "Mini, come back! I didn't mean it like that!"

You watch as Mini approaches Buff, pointing at you and forming a "U" shape with her hooves before departing. The bouncer snorts in your direction, then turns towards the door, following Mini.

"What was that about, Dawn?" you ask, completely taken aback by the sudden turn of events.

"...Don't blame her. She gets jealous because I got a lucky roll of the dice from fate," Dawn explains, pushing her plate away, the food untouched. "Many in PHEER dislike me because I have a happy ending... And Mini, like others, sometimes feels jealous."

"A happy ending?" you inquire.

"I die peacefully in my bed at a grand old age, surrounded by my family. I couldn't see any faces, but I knew my foals and grandfoals were there..." Dawn trails off, her voice tinged with a mix of bittersweetness and longing.

"If there's any consolation, I'm not jealous," you remark sincerely.

Dawn smiles, appreciating your words. "It's nice to hear that, Anon."

You smirk, adding a touch of humor to the conversation. "Well, obviously mine is better. I get a comfy hospital bed, with Aether crazily pumping poison into my veins."

To your relief, your co-agent laughs, her spirits lifting a little. "Each to their own, monkey colt."

"Jokes aside, will you and Mini be alright? She did snub you there," you express your concern.

"Mini is like that. There's a little bit of Molo in Mini and a little bit of Mini in Molo. I'm pretty sure she'll apologize with a big hug tomorrow night," Dawn reassures you, her confidence in their bond evident.

After finishing your early morning meal, you and Dawn return to base just as the sun begins to creep over the horizon. Bright Eyes greets you at the bottom of the stone stairs.

"Good morning," she says, her emerald eyes fixed on you. "I see you made it back in one piece."

"Morning. Turned out it was a ghost of a little filly," you reply, stifling a yawn.

"Either way, it could have been a demon posing as a little filly. Don't think all your assignments will be such a breeze," Bright Eyes warns, her gaze shifting to Dawn. "Dawn, why did it take all night to clear out one little spirit?"

Dawn stands straight, ready to provide an explanation. "I gave Anonymous a tour of Canterlot. I showed him the old underground platform at the station and House Two-Two-Three."

Bright Eyes remains silent for a moment, taking in Dawn's response. "I see. May I ask why?"

"Experience. I showed him two different anomalies he can expect," Dawn explains confidently.

"Well done, Dawn. Debrief over. Go to bed," Bright Eyes commands, concluding the conversation.

You bid Dawn goodnight and head toward your bunk, but before you can open the door, Bright Eyes speaks again from her desk.

"Anon, you'll be working with Aether tomorrow. You'll have an assignment outside of Canterlot. Will this be an issue?"

"I don't think he'll kill me yet. From the way he acted, we were very good friends," you reply, trying to sound casual.

"Good. And well done for using your head. Use your fate to your advantage, but never tempt it," Bright Eyes advises, stretching her wings. "I'll be turning in soon. Goodnight, Anon."

With that, the gem-eyed mare leaves for her room. You push the door open and find Aether sitting on his bed, looking up at you with his yellowish-green eyes.

"I take it you were listening," you remark, trying to gauge his reaction.

"Didn't have a choice, bud. My hearing is pretty good," Aether shrugs his wings.

"Alright, I should be honest with you. I'm a little worried about being around you. You know, the whole 'killing me in the future' bit... It kind of rubs me the wrong way," you admit, walking to your bed and beginning to remove your armor and gear.

"There has to be a reason for me to do it," Aether replies, flopping back on his bed with his limbs and wings sprawled out.

You hang up your armor and place your backpack in the lower part of your locker. "Well, you implied that you killed the rest of the team."

"That part doesn't make sense. They all have different fates. Take Dawn, for example. She gets a good life," Aether explains.

"She told me about that earlier," you confirm.

"She did?" Aether raises his head slightly, a hint of surprise in his expression. "Normally, she keeps that to herself. But anyway," he flicks a hoof dismissively, "there still has to be a reason for me to do it. I'm not some mindless killer, you know."

"You could be. I just met you," you retort, feeling a mix of caution and curiosity.

"Well, you could be one too. Ready to have your wicked way with me while I sleep," Aether teases, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"I'm not a succubus..." you reply, caught off guard by his comment.

"Incubus," Aether corrects, smirking.

"Eh?" you pause, taking off your shoes. "What's that?"

"A male succubus," Aether clarifies. "Unless..." he sits up, his gaze shifting down toward your crotch, "I've seen many weird cryptids in my time..."

Without hesitation, you launch your pillow straight at Aether's face. "I have a goddamn cock!"

"Well, if you tuck it behind, I could overlook it," Aether calmly places the pillow to one side, feigning seriousness.

You glare at the male bat pony, dumbfounded by his comment. Is he hitting on you? After a moment, Aether's face begins to crack, and he bursts into laughter. "I'm joking, bud!"

"That wasn't funny!" you exclaim, realizing that the others are probably asleep and you need to keep your voice down.

"Buddy, relax. I'm a connoisseur of the female sex," Aether reassures you, his playful tone returning.

"I was under the impression that you'd go after everything," you respond, recalling the earlier conversation.

"Half of everything," Aether corrects as he fires your pillow back at you.

Catching the pillow, you groan and climb into your bed. "Anyway, bud, we have a good cryptid hunt tomorrow," Aether announces as he, too, settles into his bed, placing his head on the pillow. "Have you heard of Yarramares?"

"I thought SMILE deals with cryptids?" you ask, curious about the change of focus.

"They do, but we're called in on this one because Yarramares are spirits that physically manifest," Aether explains, his voice growing sleepy.

"What are they, then?" you inquire, sitting up and folding your arms.

"They're ancient spirits, usually summoned by foolish ponies who dabble in dark magic," Aether explains, his eyelids starting to droop.

You remain attentive, listening to his words.

"Hey, I know what I'm doing. I'm fully licensed for this. Besides, these ponies, probably teenagers or amateur hunters, end up summoning them, thinking it's all just one big game," Aether continues, his words slowing as sleepiness overtakes him.

"Why do they summon them?" you ask, genuinely curious.

"There could be a number of reasons. Back in ancient times, before the great unification, the summoning ritual was a curse..." Aether yawns, his voice trailing off. "A pony from a neighboring tribe would trick another into performing the ritual, thinking it would bring good fortune to their village."

"Let me guess, it doesn't go down well," you interject, sensing where the story is heading.

"No, it doesn't. The ritual is deceptively simple. You gather a jar or container, place a cutting of a newborn foal's mane, a piece of burnt wood, a gold coin, and a grain of wheat from the last harvest. After that, you bury it on the outskirts of your village in the early hours," Aether explains, his words becoming more distant.

"I see where the pony could be fooled. All those things are associated with good fortune... Although I don't understand the burnt wood," you remark, trying to understand the significance.

"Items used in dark magic are often symbolic. Gold represents wealth, wheat signifies a good harvest, and the newborn mane represents fertility... A good heat, if you catch my drift," Aether chuckles sleepily.

"And the burnt wood?" you press, wanting to grasp the complete picture.

"Put that in the jar. All those items would get covered in soot and become darkened, effectively reversing their symbolism," Aether concludes, his voice fading as he succumbs to sleep.

You roll over in your bed, contemplating the information you've just received. The thought of encountering Yarramares sends a cold shiver down your spine. How will you recognize one? Aether's sleep-laden mumblings provide a vague description: a pony-like figure, pure white, with no head and long legs. You hope that you'll know it when you see it.

Lost in your thoughts, you drift off to sleep, the stone wall becoming the backdrop for your ponderings about the strange and dangerous situations you find yourself in.