A Veiled Pilgrimage

It was pitch black. He'd been here so long... Why was that, again?

He tried moving around, only to quickly run into something. There was no pain—just curiosity.

It quickly became apparently that this was some kind of small room, and he'd run into a piece of furniture. He felt the outline, it rose quite high.

A sliver of light broke through from above, revealing the faint outline of stairs leading up towards the glow.

He made he way towards the stairs, and several steps up he suddenly found himself restricted. Why couldn't he move forward? The way out was right there! It felt like chains had suddenly appeared, restraining him without the weight.

Now that he'd come this far, he noticed the muffled sounds of a heated argument just past the door. For some reason the words felt just out of reach.

What he could tell, however, was that it was between a mare and a stallion.

He tried to call out, but his voice was nowhere to be found. As much as he tried, nothing seemed to come out.

Just as he considered going back down, the argument above seemed to die down. He hadn't realized that'd happened, until it just seemed to hit him.

Turning back towards the door, which had suddenly become apparent as the source of light, he became blinded as it opened. The strain from the unfamiliar radiance became too much, and then—

He awoke to a strange sensation—everything felt like it was buzzing. That was the first form of recognition he made.

It took a while, but eventually he opened his eyes to find a lot of what he'd been seeing lately, old and worn wood planks.

That dream. Closed Tome didn't remember his dreams very often, and he was glad for it. This time around it left a bitter scar on his conscious. Just like every time he had the misfortune of remembrance.

Forget that, he needed to figure out what was—

Memories flooded his mind—his last memories. That day. The terror retook him, but quickly faded as he realized he was still alive. His breathing, which he hadn't even realized had accelerated, came right back down as he fought to regain zen.

Thankfulness filled him. He'd been so sure he'd thrown away everything in a pathetically foolish and ill-timed emotional stunt born from despair. Perhaps he'd woken up in more ways than one. He was so truly happy to still be alive right now.

Right here and now, it became clear that his reckless actions had led him here, and nothing else. Closed Tome vowed to himself not to lose control again like that. It'd nearly cost him his life, and then throbbing pain he'd been trying to ignore since waking was evidence of that. It refused to let him forget.

It was hard to reconcile, because Closed had never viewed himself as a particularly emotional pony who'd succumb that badly.

However, call it luck, fortune, fate, it didn't matter—he was alive, and he was grateful for it.

A lifetime of dreaming of the world at large down the drain after two days? How pathetic that would've been.

But still, he was here now, and picking up the pieces was something he'd need to do after figuring out just why he was inside somewhere in the first place. Just what had taken place after he'd been beaten into a pulp? Wouldn't they have left him somewhere in the ditch to rot? It wasn't exactly realistic they had a change of heart and decided to bed him back to health.

He'd realized that he was on a bed, forcing his head up by craning his neck, despite the pain it caused him. It sparked panic when he realized that getting up and moving was not going to be happening any time soon. He cursed his heritage and his cutie mark, just like he'd done a million times before. Who knew how long he'd already been resting for only to still be this incapacitated.

The room was fairly spartan. The space was small, and a bedside table accompanied the bed itself. There was a bowl with water there, and a lamp which hung from the and wall shimmered in the depths of the liquid. On the other side of the room, hanging from the wall, there was a small painting which depicted a small family of unicorns. It appeared to be some sort of family remembrance, as they all posed tightly together. The two parents hugged two foals, and one older sibling if assumptions were to be made. They appeared to be in some sort of garden. The skill of whoever made the piece wasn't amateur, but it certainly wasn't masterful either.

He'd been told once that his family had had something similar once, but it'd been lost to time. Lost like so many other things. His parents had often spoken about half about how lucky they'd been to preserve what they had, and conversely on the other half about how unfortunate it was that the claims of fortune from their ancestors, which felt like a birthright to those who heard it, had been lost to time under a myriad of means and circumstances.

He'd never given it much consideration really. What he did know was that he appreciated what they did have left during his time.

Breaking his focus away from the painting, he did what he should've all along - crane his neck to drink from the bowl. It felt like his muscles were tearing to even manage to shuffle and sit more upright, but eventually he got his face over it in a manner that would've been embarrassing in any other situation that had another pony around to witness it.

Not that he cared right now. His throat was parched beyond belief, and the water, which he gulped down thankfully, tasted like ambrosia right now.

It was no less painful laying back down.

Knowing himself, he had probably been out for days. And still, he felt exhausted. Bitterness bubbled up because he couldn't help but feel like he recovered far slower than any other earth pony he'd ever known. He hated it. He hated how often he thought along those lines, too.

But then he remembered something. His possessions, what had happened to the saddlebag he'd been carrying? As much as it drove him mad, he could not search the location he was in for them, nor see anything from his skewed and limited perspective as he lay recumbent. The bed was cheap, and his back felt sore from more than the beating, but there was also a familiar comfort to it, like his back had imprinted where it was and now perfectly fit into it, lock and key.

Briefly, his thoughts returned to his parents as he began to feel drowsy. If they had seen what had happened to him... he almost shivered at the thought. As much as he didn't want to admit it, if he had followed the course they'd laid out this never would've happened. He frowned.

It sucked, because he knew he should be stressing and assessing the situation, figuring out the potential danger he could be in, and yet he could do nothing but feel like dozing off was the only option.

It was. As much as he wanted to believe he could surpass limits.

Sleep took him once again.

When he opened his eyes for the second time in that same room, it was because of a disturbance.

He didn't see it at first, as his reactions in general had become lulled, but the peripheral image of a pony was something that was easily identified.

He made to speak, but was preempted. "Just fetching fresh water. Must say I'm glad you're awake. Was beginning to think you'd never open your eyes."

The voice was older, mellow, and lacking in any distinct emotion. It was feminine which had been hardened by the ages towards neutrality.

"Where... am I? Who are you? Why am I not..."

"Because you cared."

"What...?"

"That unicorn you watched fall to his death. I knew him his whole life from the outside. Don't think I don't see the lack of reaction to our kind." He'd seen it himself—ponies and animals alike passing each other on the street, eyes hollow, words cold. Like they'd long since stopped believing in kindness.

"So what are you just trying to say?" his voice was weak, and he was tempted to do what he could to hurry along the conversation so that he could have another taste of aqua.

"That you're a remnant of something ponies have so dearly lost, and so dearly need in times such as these."

A bitter look crossed his visage, "I'm not the pony you think I am."

"Perhaps, perhaps not. But your reaction, I've lived a long enough life to know that it was genuine. You cared that pony, that unicorn suffered such a fate. That is enough for me."

He paused for a good few seconds, before speaking: "So this is your place then? You have my thanks, I hope you've also lived a long enough life to know I'm serious about that." He almost broke into laughter, the why of which he did not know, and it caught in his throat to the point of sending him into a coughing fit. It hurt, and his body contorted during the process in a way that hurt. The mare, who he eventually recognized as the elderly mare who he'd focused on at that time sitting and watching just like he had, did what she could to hold him steady with her hooves. She had a peach coat, and a soft-yellow mane and tail. It was pleasing colors to look at. Her cutie mark was that of a window.

She mentioned leaving to do what she had intended from the start after he calmed down, and was back within a few minutes. It seemed she lived near a water source.

Once again laying hooves, she held him up this time and he was grateful that it was a far easier affair than the first time. He was confident, in fact, that he'd be able to get up and moving today as his heart got going.

"Thanks."

"No problem dear. Is there anything else you need?"

"You remind me of my mother—almost."

"Then I can only hope she's half as charming as me."

"Seriously... I can't thank you enough. I would be in your debt if I could have any food at all."

She turned to leave, "and I accept that thanks. But you will need to forgive me for the measly portions."

Closed Tome forced himself into a sitting position, his back to the wall with the bed still under him.

"Hey... wait."

She was already at the door, but she had heard. "What is it?"

"How... how did you find me after..." a combination between stress and embarrassment had crossed his features.

"You're lucky I had been keeping an eye on you since you showed a heart. I know a thing or two about being discrete. Have to be as a unicorn."

And with that she was gone, once again leaving him with his thoughts.

It was a times like these he felt badly about wanting to leave right away. His adventure called to him, and he suspected that his debt paid in blood had been paid in full. Nopony—no creature at all, had it out for him. Yet. Why would they? He'd given those brothers hell of enough of one to his fault. No such motive existed beyond that.

He had to stop thinking like that, it was far too paranoid and stressing. But he had to be right about that. His journey was his own, and nopony cared about it. That he was certain of. He wanted it to stay that way this time around.

It was around five minutes later that she returned with some hay. He devoured it quickly, offering thanks once again, and it was gone all too soon as her promise held true. It was enough, and he was not feeling greedy. He briefly wondered if she had some left for herself, or maybe she had already eaten. He'd be ashamed if she had fed him while starving herself. She looked like she needed every bits worth she could get.

"You know, I just realized I havent even introduced myself." He brought a hoof to the back of his neck and rubbed. "I'm Closed Tome, you can just call me Tome if you want. I know saying closed can sound weird sometimes."

"No offense taken, I had forgotten manners myself. Names Sleek Curtain, and the pleasure is all mine."

For a brief moment, romanticized stories of unicorns past being gentleponies drifted through his mind.

"Sleek, I must apologize once again, but before that I just remembered something important. Did you happen to get my saddlebag, or did they..."

"It's downstairs, rest easy. Those folks aren't that heartless, however they may seem."

Closed Tome thought otherwise, the fear they'd evoked still fresh, but now was not the time to be voicing those thoughts. Still, it was a miracle that his stuff was still with him. He'd have been truly depressed if he'd lost the last remnants of home he still had.

"So you know them."

The look in her eye sharpened in a way he hadn't seen before, and suddenly he realized that her old age was not a reflection of a gentle life, but of one arduously survived. With how soft she had been, even briefly, had made him forget that possibility.

"I know a lot of folks around here. Can you stand?"

"I think so..."

And indeed he could, and she led the way downstairs. It seemed that this was her apartment somewhere. Stairs led straight down to a door, but there was also a small area under the stairs that had been used a closet. He found his things there, and after a few minutes of checking, confirmed that he still had everything.

Well he'd be... his inner cynic had been silenced. He also confirmed how poor he now was. Two bits to his name.

There was no hesitation for him to promptly lay them at her hooves.

"What are you doing?"

"It's not much, but I hope this somewhat pays for my time here."

She made to try and give them back, but he held out a hoof to stop.

"Where I'm going, I won't be needing them anyway."

Somehow, she didn't seem at all surprised.

As he began walking past her, she said: "So it is as I had guessed. But where are you going?"

To any pony other than her, he would've lied. He did not want to lie to her, not after what she'd done for him.

"To the Forest of Ichor, and the potentially the screaming valley."

Concern dawned on her face, but there was something more. "Then I have a favour to ask of you."

He should've expected something like this, but what could it really be?

"Go on."

He'd been expecting a straightforward request, but for the first time an awkwardness had overtaken her person. Was it really that strange a request? Just what would make a mare like this, who he'd only known for so long yet felt like forever, become uncomfortable?

"You see... my young nephew has been something lost in life as of late. We've tried to... get him on the right path, but he always seems to be going down alleys which we never saw coming."

"As much as I respect and appreciate your help, I hope this is not going where it seems miss Sleek." He hoped being polite back would help... in some way here...

"He won't be a burden! I promise! He's been out that way, one of the few ponies around here who has been in fact."

"And why would he be coming with me? You don't even know what I'm doing or why."

"And yet he can be of benefit to you; I can promise you that. What I was hoping for is... well, I know it sounds strange, but your demeanour, attitude, all of it. You may be young and inexperienced, that much is obvious—"

"Jeez, thanks."

"—but it is still something I want to rub off on him. It could save his life. Tell you what, if the going out there gets bad, just send him right back home. But he needs this, needs something."

He had every reason to say no. He should have said no. But something in Sleek's eyes—the hope, the desperation—made him hesitate.

Closed Tome considered the offer carefully. On one hoof, he was a loner and desired solitude. How could he explain his situation to anypony without them probing for more? Just an adventure, that's it? They'd laugh until they saw he was serious, and then the problems would arise he'd rather avoid. That was just the beginning of it. On the other hoof, he could prevent a lot of wasted and tireless searching with a guide of sorts. That alone was very tempting.

Against his better judgment, he agreed. He felt strongly that he would regret that decision soon enough.

It looked like a hope that had died within her had been relit, and that didn't help his growing discomfort. He almost wanted to go back on his word, but he swallowed it.

He properly packed up, gave a little stretch, and they were on their way.

It was a rainy, gray tinted day that most would describe as dull. The clouds covered the sky and the rain was light, but Closed suspected that was not long to last. Life had its way of doing that.

The cold seeped into his coat, each raindrop a needle before he could get used to it.

They made their way across town, and he only recognized a few landmarks. He hadn't been here long enough to remember certain places too well when things were already so different. Fewer living things were on the streets on a day like today.

He couldn't tear his vision away from just how deep the prints in the ground were in some spots, he almost made it a game to see which spots went deepest as they went. It was during this scanning something caught his eye, which made him stop to give it a proper gander.

What came into view as he came closer to the wall of a tenement was a crude wanted poster. It was obvious that the language they used was as limited as it was numerous as the words used.

It read simply: "Wanted, Dead or Alive — Murkerth, Unicorn." A crudely drawn outline of the ponies face had been attempted. Closed stared, trying to memorize the poster even if there wasn't much to work with.

The depth of illiteracy in this place was really starting to sink in. He had little hope it'd be different elsewhere at this rate. Earlier, when he had first seen that map in the tavern, he had come to read between the lines that the majority of places were being named through memory by the ponies he asked, not by actual ability to read. And the map itself certainly had few words. He suspected that it must've been practically ancient by now, and even then things had been bad.

He was about to move on, especially since Sleek had stopped and noticed his delay, but something caught his eye even further. The way they had drawn Murketh, it certainly seemed like they had messed up drawing his horn. It looked too clean, with swirls that were uninterrupted, it was almost as if—

The reason for him being wanted started to coalesce in his mind. That kind of possibility had been something he'd dreamed of, even at a young age. It was the disappointment later that had eventually settled into normalcy.

Murketh eh... While Closed wanted to stay away from any and all trouble, this was was certainly interesting.

But not so interesting that when urged to move on he wouldn't, so they kept on their march.

Eventually, they made it to the outskirts of town, a lumberyard to be particular. The air was heavy with the scent of damp wood and sawdust, the usual bustle that you'd expect from a high traffic area was missing, subdued. The rain had picked up a touch. The wind too, while not strong, seemed to drag the scents of the place as much as the rain turned sideways.

Sleek lingered near the edge, her expression unreadable as she cast her gaze towards a small ramshackle shelter near the yards fence on the inside.

"Wait here," she said, her voice low and firm. Without waiting on a response, she moved in. Her watched her go around and eventually make her way into that same shelter.

Tome shifted uneasily, casting glances around. Buildings seemed to loom like sentinels. Why was he doing this? Why was he here? He just wanted to leave this place, yet he couldn't ditch this mare who'd outright saved him. The pressure of his saddlebag against him was his only comfort.

Tome resisted the urge to call out for her. He could only wonder what was going on in there. Since she hadn't come right out, clearly a discussion was going on. He tried simulating possible conversations they'd be having based on the limited information he had, but it was impossible with not having any inkling on the personality of this nephew of hers.

When she emerged, she wasn't alone.

Trailing behind her was a younger stallion, lean with a shaggy mane that hung limply over his eyes, and not because of the rain. His coat was a dull gray, his cutie mark obscured by the fence and distance making it hard to see. Closed felt that his brown mane and tail felt almost out of place, especially with the lone streak of silver hair that divided it. He walked with a gait that held many emotions in conflict. Indifference, defiance, curiosity, a touch of anxiety. Whatever this stallion thought, it definitely seemed like he had little left to lose in those eyes of his, which had eventually locked onto Closed.

Not sure what to make of all of this, Closed simply waited for them to close the gap.

"This is him," Sleek said, her voice carrying a note of finality as she gestured towards the stallion. "My nephew, Dust Clutter."

Against expectations, he was not another unicorn. A fellow earth pony indeed, and Closed couldn't help but wonder what tribe his parents each were.

"Nice to meet you, Dust Clutter," his eye practically twitched as this was not a conversation he was wanting right now. "Look, I'm uh... not sure how much you know, or if you even want to come, or anything at all for that matter. But what I do know is that you apparently know the area I'm heading for."

"Nice to meet you as well I guess... while I don't particularly—" Sleek bumped into him, and he had to regain his balance before continuing. "While I don't necessarily know why we're going out there, I do know I can be of some help to you. More than I am around here anyway..." He looked down, like this was some great shame. Closed didn't care. He had no idea, and didn't really care.

"I once joined a band on a caravan that went through the area, due to some unexpected damages with the wagon we stayed there far longer than initially planned. Long story short, we had to make use of the surrounding area. While I wouldn't call it dangerous, something definitely felt off about the surrounding area. We had talked about it at night, around the fire. Making sure we weren't all crazy. There's a reason most are loathe to head through that area, even at the cost of a detour."

Closed nodded.

"And you're saying you want to go there?"

"That bizarre feeling you had out there is exactly why. There could be some strange magic at play. I want to know why, I want to find the source. If not there, then in the Screaming Valley."

"What are you, some kind of private investigator from some rich noble? I thought they had enough trouble, like the rest of us, but in their own ways."

"Not exactly," his grin was as genuine as they come, "but if that feels like the best explanation, we'll go with it."

"Sleek... I'm not exactly—"

"Dust, you're going. Besides, how could we send him alone to such a place? You'll be safer together."

"Safer? More like we're just putting more ponies at risk of getting hurt, or worse."

"You're already at risk of worse, you call this living? You're treading down the path of a pony I'd rather not think about right now."

That shut him up. There was a certain resignation to him. Why Sleek could order around her nephew like this was beyond Closed. Were his parents absent?

The rain continued to pour down, and the conversation fizzled out.

Closed explained that they would be leaving next morning, and that Dust should get everything he needed packed up and ready to go, and to close off any loose ends. Dust had only said that it wouldn't be a problem. Guess he really didn't have family around.

Surprisingly, he headed back inside the lumberyard. Apparently, he had doubled a work space as a living space. What kind of arrangement was that with the yard? Closed briefly wondered if they'd vacate if he was gone for too long. Closed felt bad, sure that Dust would have to figure out something to tell the landowner to allow him to keep his residence. Would he have to pay future rent? Did he even have that kind of bits? Considering the attitude Sleek had taken, Closed strongly felt that they were brothers in bit shortage, if nothing else.

Funny that, Closed had once heard that the bit, aside from Twilight Sparkle, was the only thing that hadn't changed in the past millennium. That was right... Closed definitely needed to learn more about Twilight and Etrethia. For his own good. He knew far too little still, yet here he was already leaving town, one which was unlikely to have any ponies who knew more than to figure out a way to pay the next bill or roll in the mud.

It was muddy. Closed found himself with free time and free time with no money was significantly less attractive. Especially in the rain, in places where they couldn't afford to have nice roads. His hooves were a mess.

That led to mindless wandering, which quickly turned into an awkward self-invitation into Dust's home He backtracked for about twenty minutes, and the rain picked up yet again in the final hour, as if trying to hurry him up. Closed felt bad that Dust had to get stuff done out and about on such a poor day.

As it turned out, Dust's place was strange. It clearly was a barn that'd been abandoned, and then one day renovated partially to just barely work as a tool shed, yet there was a ladder to go to an upper level where an open bedroom was. There was another straw bed, a carpet which was a nice touch he hadn't been expecting, a table which held several unlit candles that had seen recent use, and a carved out hole in wall that acted as a window. The carpet it would be tonight. Better than a tree that was for sure. Because surely Dust wouldn't kick out his new partner in crime?

Besides, Closed could always just threaten to go complain to Sleek after all he'd seen.

He spent most of the day ruminating on the possibilities that lay awaiting him and Dust out there. He wanted to see new things. Closed very much hoped that not every town was as barren and plain as this one that he'd eventually visit. His journey had started off terrible, but turnabout was at play. His comfort level was going to be pushed with Dust around, but he could send him back home any time.

Dust came back later, surprised that Closed was treated the place like his own. It didn't last long, and he was kind enough to offer to share dinner. Dust had decided to splurge before leaving it seemed, as a fresh loaf of bread was presented.

They didn't speak much that night, but Closed did what he could to be genuine about his appreciation that Dust was coming along. Dust may have had reservations, but he was in better spirits than Closed had expected. Maybe his life here really was that bad.

Expectations were everything in life it seemed. Nopony who knew any better ever complained much, but those who'd had a taste for greater quality of life fought like their life depended on it to hold onto it, and quickly hated everything when removed from it. Looking at that bed while they settled down to sleep, it wasn't hard to see why while thinking about the cold and forgiving wilderness.

Eventually, Closed turned to face away from Dust, and he swore he could feel a hole burning into his back by the time he fell asleep.

Closed was surprised at the excitement Dust brought in the morning. He woke Closed up and had his own saddlebag already thrown on. Closed was still a little sore from his most recent affair, but he managed to get a move on quick enough to avoid concern from Dust.

With Dust leading the way through town, on a path he would've never known he could've taken, it already seemed like he was embracing the guide roll. Closed just hoped that he had come prepared. He'd never had the chance to ask what he was taking. His bag looked full enough, at least.

When they finally made it out of town, on the same main road Closed had taken not too long ago, a pang of panic and fear struck Closed. It was irrational, but knowing that was not enough. It took hours before the anxiety started to fade.

"So," Dust finally broke the silence, his tone casual, "when are you going to tell me the real reason we're out here?"

He had to laugh at that. "You wouldn't believe me even if I told you."

"Even so, I'd like to know."

Closed hesitated. Then, the words spilled out. "Have you ever dreamed of something so far beyond your reach and so vague that its majesty seems unattainable? That is what I search for, but in truth I simply want to see the world. I was denied that so far in life. This world is huge you know, my father has told me a few stories of his travels, and those he spoke to came from far away lands where their stories transcended time from him to me, and I believe that is only the beginning. Tell me, have you heard of the..."

He stopped when he saw Dust staring at him, expression unreadable.

"Sleek was right," Dust said after a moment, "you really are genuine. I can hear it in your voice."

There was a slight weight to his tone that gave Closed pause. "And?"

Dust shrugged, "And I just don't see it myself. All that hope and wonder I hear, this world isn't that special."

Closed smiled faintly. "That's fine. I'm not here to convince you."

They carried on. The rain from the other day had left everything damp.

"Do you really think it's dangerous out there?" Closed spoke first this time.

"I know it's dangerous."

"Why?"

"Ask my parents." the words cold enough to chill the air between them. Where had this bitterness come from?

Closed lowered his gaze. "I'm sorry." Touchy subject. Closed didn't want to risk things becoming tense between them so soon.

Dust simply said nothing.

"I'll still move forward," Closed said quietly. "Even if it's dangerous, I will still move forward. But I will never ask anything like that from you, Dust. When we get there, head back home. I'll manage."

"What are you saying?" Dust asked sharply, stopping.

"What?"

"As if I'd let you meet the same fate as they did." The conviction in his words momentarily stunned Closed. Closed had been debating his conviction earlier, but now, no longer. Dust neither appeared to be a coward nor a heartless individual, yet Closed feared that his apathy had been saved for no one except himself. That was dangerous in-itself.

"I was wrong about you, Dust." he said finally. Dust didn't react to the comment, mearly adjusting his saddlebags position to be more comfortable. "How many days out are we, anyway?"

They started again.

"And I was wrong about you too. Even if I don't fully understand yet." He was being surprisingly introspective. Closed had been expecting a brash and naive pony, not this. "Depending on the pace, about four to five days. Six if we move really slowly." He eyed Closed. "Are you really that tired already?"

"I'm giving you my best," Closed retorted. "You don't know what I've been through. Besides, I've always been like this. You're getting my best, you can believe that."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I don't think I have as much magic flowing through me as most earth ponies, or something. My parents were both unicorns you know. Maybe I wasn't supposed to be an earth pony. That's not even mentioning my cutie mark."

"Magic? What are you talking about?"

"You're joking?"

"No, really. Don't tell me you believe in that nonsense."

Closed gave him his best 'yes, really' look.

"Right back at you. Don't tell me you don't actually think magic doesn't exist."

"I have my doubts."

"Like what!" This was unbelievable.

"Well, I've certainly never seen anything magical. Magic flowing through us? Sounds like bull crap that some grandmare made to trick foals into believing they can do more than they think. Difference in physical ability are just differences in muscle structure, ever heard of that? Why's performance have to be related to magic. Pegasus fly because they have wings and are light. It's common sense."

Closed's eye twitched.

"Okay, I kind of understand where you're coming from. It cannot be seen a lot of the time. Let's start there."

"A lot of the time? Nopony I know has ever seen anything even close enough to have been called magical."

"Because unicorns are—"

"Are what?"

For some reason, they were both frowning. Closed didn't know how to respond, but he had to say something.

"You know about the Glimmer ritual, right?"

"Yeah, vaguely. Why?"

"Why do they do it? Why do they enforce it? How do they do?"

"Where are you going with this? I have no bloody idea."

"Exactly! I don't know what it's called, but apparently it's a magical device, which originated in the centre of the empire where ponies are trusted in crafting them. Anyway, it's enchanted to be extremely precise in how much it damages the horn - just enough to prevent unicorns from ever wanting to use magic, and not enough to injure them critically. It's a range really."

"Oh god, you still call it an empire? And while I haven't exactly asked about how it's done, because, you know, I doubt it's as you say. They probably have a device, yeah, except only it bashes the horn with just enough force. I'd believe that."

"You've got to be... okay, well, listen to this: I've seen magic before."

Dust gave him a hard stare. "Really?"

"Don't look at me like that. I'm not lying. When I was younger, my parents, who like I said are unicorns, performed magic for me despite the extreme toll it took on them. My father, in fact, teleported right before my eyes one very evening. I'd been so excited at the time, I never forgot the memory. How could I?"

"How did your parents know how to do all that then? This is too fantastical. You were probably young and easily tricked. That'd make sense. It's okay to admit the idea of magic is so wishful that you'd want to believe it was real."

Closed was fuming, or he would have been, if he hadn't sputtered out at the realization he'd spoken too much. He didn't want Dust probing him for more information about his parents. Making the connection to his recent blunder that got him pulverized, he decided not to push the subject, not matter how much it bothered him.

He wasn't about to prove him wrong, nor was he about to drag Dust somewhere with a magical phenomenon that could put him in danger. So, why bother?

"You know what, you win. But know that I believe in it."

"Yeah yeah, whatever you say." He kept looking at Closed for some time, which perplexed him as the conversation had petered out.

"What is it?"

"I didn't realize it at first, but you have to be the first pony I'm asking this question. I have zero clue what your cutie mark is supposed to represent. Not even a smidge."

It was an innocent enough question.

Oh, crap. What was he supposed to say? Books were practically extinct because every time they were discovered they were destroyed, per the law established by Twilight Sparkle. I guess it wasn't totally a stretch to know about them, since he'd heard those folks at the first tavern he visited mentioning the possibility, but it would still come across as sketchy. Well, perhaps the best way to move forward here was just to make it seem like a coincidence. How awkward was it that his cutie mark represented something that was banned.

He almost wanted to throw a comment back at Dust, whose own cutie mark was quite literally dust being put in a pan with a brush. If his was weird, that was borderline embarrassing.

Enough of that thinking. Control yourself. How could he say or think that, when he'd been the useless one so far.

Closed needed to rethink a lot of things, most of all how much of himself to tell others at the forefront. It was problematic. Perhaps a fake name was in order...

"I hate talking about it, to be honest." That got Dust to raise an eyebrow. "It's an object called a book, and they're banned in Etrethia. Can you tell how unfortunate that is? Either way, they're not something you'll encounter. I had to be told what they were as I've never seen one by a pony who just happened to know the history. Roughly speaking, it's useless and a relic of the past, and it certainly doesn't represent anything physically speaking that will help me out."

Dust looked perturbed, but not in an overwhelmingly negative way. "I have no idea what to make of that if I'm being honest." He paused. "What town did you say you came from again?"

"Penketh."

"Right. Right. You really do have some weird details going on. I'll have to ask you more about books, I think I've only ever heard that word mentioned maybe once or twice in my life, on the peripherals. And your name, too. I just realized I don't get that. Don't tell me..."

"It's exactly what you think. I know." Dust gave him askance anyway. "Do I have to spell it out? Yes, 'Tome' basically means book. Yeah, I was thinking it earlier, but definitely happening. Not sticking with that name from now on."

They carried on.

Dust was far easier to communicate with than Closed had been expecting. He began to wonder if he was not nearly as socially incompetent as he'd led himself to believe. Either that, or Dust was just that good at making him feel comfortable. Some ponies were like that, they had accommodating personalities that allowed you to thrive without realizing it. He supposed his own mother was kind of like that, actually.

Earlier, Closed had grown distasteful of how illiterate Leba had seemed, yet Dust seemed to match Closed blow for blow in conversation. Closed wondered if Sleek and her family were abnormal in Leba. He approved.

They broke off the beaten path after a few days, and the thicket welcomed them with a cruel smile. Things had dried up and spring relented.

Dust really did know what he was doing out here, and constantly pointed things out to Closed about the local landscape, Closed wondered if he was saying that as much for himself as for Closed to consolidate and reaffirm his own memories.

If Closed was being honest, he had expected some kind of bratty pony who Sleek had just wanted to toss the problem of. It was a complete surprise how competent Dust turned out to be. It began to occur that perhaps Ponykind had stagnated not because ponies had become dumber, but because they had nothing going for them and no momentum was ever able to be built.

Closed Tome had always gotten the impression from his parents that the average pony of this age was quite incompetent, uninformed, unambitious, encompassing many negative traits. One of the first things Closed had noticed from his parents that deviated them from a pedestal was how they described other ponies as lesser, yet treated and graced the ponies they knew in Penketh - who were outside ponies just like the rest, as nothing of the sort. Their respect and admiration was genuine for their neighbours, so the contrast was startling. Were they ever aware of their own inconsistent world view, he didn't know. He never asked, not worth the potential hassle.

They'd passed rolling emerald hills, brilliant verdance opened to a touch of meadows. There was birds that provided a sirenic background, but they too were left in the past. Closed couldn't help but notice how it felt like trees were either ancient or extremely young. There seemed to be no in between. One day, there was even a rainbow that limned the air through a foggy opaqueness that'd settled at the time. Closed finally felt like he was experiencing a sacred first hoof into his dreams. The world was beautiful left untouched, that was for sure.

When they left the hills behind, Closed missed them quite quickly.

But it was also not meant to be a perfect venture. Closed was constantly exhausted past the first few days, and in time Dust had begun to get frustrated over it. Closed was sure it would become a problem as it continued, but for some reason Dust had seemingly abandoned it after a few weeks. What kind of conclusion he'd come to mentally Closed did not know, but appreciated nonetheless.

Dust was pretty good at finding shelter for night, but not perfect. The nights were a mercy due to the arrival of spring. Didn't mean it was particularly comfortable, and keeping an eye around your shoulder. The reassurances were not enough. Closed had had enough of letting his guard down, old soreness keeping to remind him as it mixed into his general fatigue.

Foliage became denser as they got further and further into the journey. They were not without troubles either. Two times they'd hidden and wasted good travel time because of dangers Closed could not sense personally, but totally believed to be real considering Dust's fear. Oh, and the wolves howling helped with that, too.

One night, approximately a month into the trip, they'd found a small cave to make camp in. They started a small fire inside as it was a rather cool night. It's smoke slowly pouring out of the cave mouth through roots of different plants that hung through the earth.

At this point, any and all rest was a blessing for Closed. He felt drained like no other time in his life, and was glad that Dust was beginning to accept it as reality. They moved slower than he wanted, that much was obvious to Closed analysis of his day-to-day expressions, but Closed personally felt that they were safer moving slower anyway.

Closed didn't know why, but he felt like asking something dear to his heart and conscious as he stared at the fire for an indeterminate time. He had to know for sure, even if it was obvious.

"Say... have you or anypony, no, any creature you've met ever mention the Foundation Saga?"

After a little while, Dust calmly replied. "No. Never heard of it."

Closed shouldn't have said anymore, but it was hard to keep certain things to yourself for so long. He wanted to discuss it with anypony at all. To get it out.

"Yeah, I figured you'd say as much. It's just... I don't think anyone I meet will have ever heard of it. Family make-believe story you could call it, I guess."

That got his attention.

"Go on." Dust said, leaning in slightly.

"Mmm, it was something my mother would narrate to me in order to get me to sleep when I was young. I've never forgotten it." What Closed didn't mention, was that it came from a book. "It's a story that has been passed down in my family for generations, we have no idea how far back it goes. We do know who wr—who told the story originally, because the retelling ends with odd words: "signed, Star.", I've often wondered just who this Star is." It was a shame too, because the book was so old that it'd been damaged over time. The signature was faded to the point that it was barely legible by Closed Tome's time.

"I get it, Closed, get on with it."

Well, figures he'd only care about the meat of it.

"The Foundation Saga details the beginning of life on Equus, if you can believe that. It mentions Twilight, too. She was one of the four alicorns—don't interrupt just yet. Yeah, it describes how four different alicorns descended into this plane and brought with them great treasures from another land. As you can tell from this much alone, I was entranced immediately. Anyway, it talks about a great era on Equus where Etrethia was called something different, Equestria, a land of unprecedented prosperity and happiness. It doesn't mention much past that.

"Anyway, the story takes a dark turn. The four alicorns ruled ponykind at the time, but something changed. Twilight Sparkle, one by one, took out the other alicorns until she was the only one left. Since we still know her today, we know that she's been in sole command for a long time. There's more bits and pieces I left out, but that's the gist of it. So many questions are left unanswered, isn't there Dust? Where did the alicorns come from? Where did their treasures end up? Why did Twilight Sparkle not have a treasure when she came? Oops, I forgot to mention that. Why did Twilight break the peace? Why did Twilight allow her country to become a bunch of ponies rolling in the mud, like the peasants they were forced to be?"

"I've been listening and listening, but you're starting to do your famous ramble routine again Closed. Also, you and your family are an arrogant bunch, you know that? What have you all done to earn such an attitude is beyond me, and I've only heard a little so far. If your parents are worse than you I can only disprove so hard, man."

"You know I can't help it." Closed said quietly.

"I do, I do. Anyway, I can't help but see an obvious connection here. You seriously believe this junk, and I'm guessing it's why we're out here. I can't really complain because... well, you know. But if that's true, I'm not exactly enthusiastic about it. I mean, other alicorns, Equestria, all this feels like the same credibility as your weird belief in magic. It's just a old foals tale, just why did you become so obsessed with it? I was told some too you know, maybe not so fantastical, but they were there all the same. I didn't go crazy over them like you did."

Closed wanted to get angry at the doubt but couldn't entirely blame him. Unlike magic, this definitely seemed more out there. There had been times Closed had felt similar, in fact. It was one of the goals of his journey to prove that the Foundation Saga was in fact true. If Closed managed to find any of the treasures, that'd be proof it was true, if only the part about the alicorns.

"You know what, that's fair Dust. I just felt like sharing it, even you have to admit it's an interesting theory, at least?"

"I'll give you that one, Closed, I'll give you that one. Say, since we're in the mood, I'll tell you a story of my own. Came from an old travelling buddy I used to work with." He added, "through this area we're approaching now. The Forest of Ichor and the Screaming Valley."

"So you do know something!"

"Yeah, and I'm a cynic, we certainly made it through without problems."

"Well?"

"Mmm... It was something of a myth by the time it reached me. There's this thing called the Screecher he explained. And, as you'd expect, it lives in the valley. Basically, the story goes, anypony foolish enough to wander all the way through the forest and into the valley becomes its unsuspecting victim. It screams and extremely high pitch once when you're in the valley, and they they say that you get hit by a spell where you continue to hear that same keening only it feels closer and closer. Unbeknownst to the victim, only a few are the real thing as it hunts its prey. It's a sadistic being, and it waits for each victim to be close to reaching the exit of the forest before jumping and finishing them. Finally, they say its screech is a jumble of every scream its ever heard before it killed each of its victims."

"And how many lives do you think it has taken?"

"Stop messing with me. I was just humouring you."

"Still... something like that... it is terrifying. To be honest."

"Yeah well... can't say I disagree. Ain't nothing magical about a terrifying predator, that I can assure you. And there are predators out here."

"I think you'd agree with me that there's certainly creatures out there we can't even imagine, even if we haven't seem them with our own eyes yet. Forget magic." He let his statement settle for a bit. "Besides, sometimes reality is so crazy it may as well be fantasy..."

"Yet you want to head straight for it."

Closed just cut off and stared into the fire for a while. "There's... there's things that I fear more than death. Even now." It was as low as he'd raised his voice so far, barely audible.

Dust didn't reply right away. The fire crackled between them, embers spiralled towards the cave mouth and disappeared as they cooled, just out of vision. His expression shifted, ears flicking as if listening for something only he knew of beyond their camp site.

"That's a dangerous way to think, Closed," he said eventually.

"Yeah," Closed murmured, "I know."

A sharp sound cut through the cave—the snap of a twig outside.

Both of them went still. Eyes meeting carried the message of mutual recognition of the sound.

The silence stretched, taut as a wire.

Then, another shift in the underbrush outside—softer this time, followed by the rustle of leaves and a bushy tail that was unmistakably red.

They both let out breaths they hadn't realized they'd been holding.

"You know, I would've lost it if it had been accompanied by a scream." said Closed.

"Don't ever say anything like that ever again. Forget everything, I'm sleeping. Don't forget to put out the fire. Remember, tomorrow we'll be close."

"Can't wait." It was hollow.

For the next five minutes or so, the body language of both of them betrayed their expectation of such a scream before they eventually melted too into the night. Dust kept his ears peeled even while laying down. Closed embraced his limits for fatigue as he always was forced to.