A week later…

They made it.

Sitting on the edge of the cliff, the four gaze upon the castle. Two of them with ravenous glee. The other two with hopeful trepidation.

The goal of their species would be met soon.

She was waiting.

Messiah. Liberator. Savior.

As one, they descend down, blackened coats blending into the night unseen.

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Meanwhile, in the throne room…

Luna can feel her hindquarters start to go numb. Shifting to encourage blood flow, she tries to mitigate the oncoming onslaught of pins and needles she was about to experience. She groans inwardly as her hindlegs start to prick and crinkle, crawling uncomfortably as her muscles seize, unwilling to respond to her requests to move them.

Such is the woes of night court.

As vigilant as herself, the night guard stands still, presiding over night court as peacekeepers. Their faces remain as stony as Luna’s as she tries her level hardest to banish her discomfort chipping away at her mental state. Gently standing so as not to draw attention to herself, she allows the last few remote sections of her legs to experience normal blood flow again, conquering her pins and needles once more.

A hollow victory, she had already gone through this four times, and would certainly go through it at least five more before night court finished. Although pins and needles are not what is bothering her. It is more the why. Usually, Luna maintains a strict anti-pins-and-needles routine, shifting her legs and hindquarters subtly every five minutes (on the dot, a clock would be less accurate) to ensure normalcy.

Today was very different. Luna’s usually uncontestable discipline had been completely shattered by an old foe: boredom. Months ago, the boredom’s blade would be dull, barely able to cause a chink in her iron will. And why would it? She had nothing to look forward to doing, other than smash up training dummies or sit and unwillingly reminisce about the past…

But that had changed. Luna had something to look forward to. The études and rather recent Easy pieces by Sweet Lullaby sitting on the music holder of her beautiful brown Hammersoft and Co. upright, her recently purchased bottle of Equestrian Mead (to be enjoyed with the resident two-legged alcoholic), and a secret little project covered by a unassuming white cloth, hidden behind her desk.

Unfortunately, the universe must maintain its cold balance, and the blade of boredom has been sharpened by these newfound joys. All of a sudden, Luna would be daydreaming (nightdreaming?) about her next practice session. Which pieces needed work? Which passages?

What do I want to work on for my next lesson? My technical skill has been lacking, maybe that? Hmmmmm… I wonder if he’ll play something for me… the way his ‘fingers’ move… magical… beauty…

Three minutes pass. No shuffling of the legs. No thought paid to the oncoming cramps.

Mmmmmmm… I should show him the observatory. And all the fixed stars for navigation… Oh! I can tell him that story about the time my sister got helplessly lost… in a field!

Another four minutes pass. The warning signals sent to her brain are utterly ignored.

I’ll bring the mead up. We can enjoy it together… I hope he doesn’t have anything on the next day, this mead should be very alcoholic…

AHHHH AGAIN!

With no other option, her muscles seize, sending rivulets of pain up her leg and forcing her to scrunch her face up in pain. Again, the odd and silent dance is performed by Luna. She forces her lips into a bored scowl, impatiently sitting back down.

This bucking sucks. Sucks more than a harlot in a brothel. I beg all facets of Harmony. Free me from this prison of stillness! Allow me to return to… ANYTHING BUT THIS.

Luna almost punctuated that thought with an angry stamp of her hoof. Grumbling inwardly, she casts her gaze on the empty halls, tracing the architecture.

Curse our unsynchronised sleep schedules! It would only bearable if I could walk in his dreams… alas, I’d have more luck smashing my head through the floor…

That last bit of errant musing was less errant than it seemed. Between the incredibly uncomfortable silence and the sheer emptiness of the hall, Luna really was considering smashing her head through the floor.

I am possibly the only pony in the castle capable of such a feat… I would need a sizable head start, it would only be accomplished with a proper dive…

Once again, Luna’s brain finds any small amusement to distract from her unbearable boredom.

Mhhhhhhhhh lalilulelo…

The time drips as slow as molasses while cycles of pins and needles assault her, driving quite nearly insane.

Maybe I should just mandate that he come hang out with me. I have the power to! She grumpily thinks, half serious about marching straight into her room and penning said decree. She would not be stopped! Those peasants could argue all they wanted! Moan to her about how was ‘irresponsibly exercising her executive power’. However, a tiny deduction stops her, almost small enough for her to have ignored.

Thou are obsessed. Her left side brain announces, cutting through Luna’s tyrannical fantasy in an instant.

Right side brain pauses, then laughs, rebutting. Oh cmon. It’s normal to miss my friend when one is being forced to glue thine ass onto a cold marble throne. Why can’t Tia get this thing heated! The spell isn’t even that hard!

Get real, Left side brain retorts, thou are literally seeing him after this and yet thou are fantasizing about legally binding him to you. Why don’t thou just ask him to marry thee? It is essentially the same, legally binding and all, but won’t cause a riot.

Marriage?! Are thou daft? Ha! And I thought it was my job to make jokes, Logic.

Emotion. Look at the facts. One, thou think of him too much to be considered a friend. Two, thou find any excuse to spend more time with him. Three, are thou forgetting the amount of times I had to stop you from ogling his strangely shaped ‘collar’ bones?

Emotion sputters at the memory, causing Luna to blush. That particular day, Luna had decided to show off her magical prowess, chasing Cyrus around with a water whip. Of course, his shirt got soaked and he had to take it off to dry.

I… Um… That was not a case of attraction! I was simply curious. Yep…

If Luna’s Logical brain had a face, it would definitely have an eyebrow raised.

Really. Is that why the image is seared into thy memory? The sheer novelty? Not because they’re called COLLAR bones AND they rest around his neck? Don’t lie to me, I know all your kinks. And the fact that he has-

SHUT UP, LOGIC! Emotion screams out of embarrassment.

Meanwhile, in reality, Luna tries her hardest to suppress the immense amount of cringe brought forth by her mental dialogue.

It is NOT like that! It just looks weird and I was curious. I am not a freak who likes strange two legged, tall, scruffy… funny… Emotion trails off.

I… no. It is too soon. I barely know him!

Yet, whenever thou are together, time rushes by like a river.

That’s normal for friends, especially close ones.

Not according to my bank of memory.

Oh come on! Thou are the one who is meant to be talking me down!

Why?

Because you usually do! That is thy job, Logic. Whenever I am about to rush headfirst into embarrassment, thou stop me!

Because I can’t take it anymore. Correction: we can’t take it anymore.

That thought causes Luna to freeze. Emotion, not willing to lose another debate to Logic, switches tactics, bringing forth a tidal wave of doubts.

I am being desperate. Latching onto him after knowing him for two months. Pathetic. Does he even think of me in the same way? Of course he doesn't-

Maybe not, Logic interjects, what evidence do you have, Emotion?

Who needs evidence?! Besides, I’ve been hurt too much. This would kill us. Thou know it.

Logic remains silent.

We should-

The double doors to the throne room burst open, accompanied by a hallowed cry.

“Noctra Havarax!”

Logic and Emotion are blasted from Luna’s consciousness, replaced by cold, hard shock, enough to turn Luna’s blood to ice.

Standing before her are two thestrals, heads held high, exposing their fragile necks toward her in the ultimate form of respect. Their eyes, despite the brightness of the room, still glow a vicious red. Their weapons, although sheathed, are displayed threateningly across their chests.

Luna’s guards are the first to react, forming a protective barrier between her and the four visiting batponies. The Captain, a unicorn with a bright yellow coat, steps forward, shouting: “Halt! Weapons are not permitted to be carried by unauthorized ponies. Drop them, now!”

The scarred one steps forward, much to the chagrin of the one to his left. Growling, he begins to click. Luna, still recovering from her shock, barely registers what he says.

“Filthy sun dwellers! I am Brantus of Noctra Za’lav. Release our sovereign at once or prepare to die!” He crouches low, gripping the hilt of his weapon in his mouth.

“T-this can’t be r-real… this can’t…” A batpony guard whispers, her eyes shrunk into pinpricks. Her rattling armor draws the attention of her commanding officer.

“Private Lavender! What are you playing at?! Get into formation, NOW!” The Captain bellows, causing Private Lavender’s basic training to override her fear. She shakily scurries into position, almost driving her face into the floor with how unstable her hooving is. Brantus throws back his head, letting out a horrific cackle.

“Sun-slave!” Brantus taunts, baring his fangs in a threatening grin and causing the trembling Private Lavender to squeak in fear. Unable to stand by any longer, Brantus’ male companion steps forward, his oak tree necklace bouncing on his chest as he puts his body between Brantus and the night guard.

“Please, let us not. We are here in peace. No fight.” He pleads in broken Equish.

“Then why bring the weapons?” The Captain snarls.

“Quite, Darvius. There can be no peace between us and them.” Brantus responds, unsheathing his blade. Darvius grunts in frustration, glaring daggers at Brantus.

“Was this really your plan? See reason, you fool! We are in their territory, how are we meant to win? Even now we are outnumbered.” Darvius pleads, desperately trying to diffuse the situation.

“Then I die gloriously and bravely! Liberating Noctra Havarax from her prison! They will shout my name as they raze this-”

“Enough!” Luna punctuates her shout with a firm stamp of her hoof. Instantly, the two intruders snap to face Luna, bowing till their snoots kiss the floor. Forcing down a silent and nervous swallow, Luna steps down from the throne.

“Stand down. Allow me passage, Captain Arcana.” Luna orders, much to the general displeasure of the addressed Captain. She begrudgingly steps aside, allowing Luna to come forward.

“Thou may face me.” Luna slips into Threstralian, the words leaving a lingering aftertaste of uncomfortable memories. In sync, Brantus and Darvius raise their heads, eyes pointed directly at her hooves. Anywhere else would mean blasphemy. An old custom. Another reminder of a violent past.

She promised me there was NO trace left! How is this possible!? What did he mean by ‘prison’! Luna’s subconscious screams, aiding the rising panic in her chest. If they were still around, especially after her banishment……

Deal with this first. Luna pulls herself back into the present, resolving to deal with one crisis at a time.

“Welcome, esteemed guests. Have thou traveled far?” Luna asks as confidently as she can, cringing at her inability to hide the slight waver in her voice. Brantus scowls, casting an untrusting gaze across the room.

“Noctra Havarax, I can hear the pain in your voice. Say the word and will rip down your captors. You can be free to bring eternal-”

“Shut your bucking flabbering mouth, will you?” Darvus hisses in a rare bout of anger, “were you dropped as a foal?”

“I’m not listening to some placid grass eater!” Brantus retorts, growling at his companion. The pair stare at each other with the intensity of a thousand suns, causing Luna to shuffle nervously on her hooves. Eventually, the awkwardness becomes too heavy to bear, and Luna has to intervene.

“The journey must have been long, and thou both must be exhausted. Perhaps we can continue this conversation tomorrow evening?” Luna offers with a pained smile. Brantus puffs out his chest, but before he can speak he is cut off by Darvius.

“Thank you for kind offer, Noctra Havarax. We are allow tiredness to speak,” Darvius gives Brantus the hardest glare he can possibly muster, “We accept Noctra Havarax’s wisdom. No foolishness tonight.”

With that, loosens the strap holding his crescent scimitar to his chest, allowing it to clatter to the floor.

“Don’t be stupid, Brantus, for once in your life, think. What’s going to happen to Y’valt?”

A tense silence follows, occasionally broken by the clinking of armor from a guard uncomfortably shifting their weight. All eyes are locked onto Brantus, each pony in the room trying to predict what he’d do next.

His blade clatters to the floor. Not without a frustrated grunt. A collective sigh of relief is shared amongst the guard as he kicks his weapon away from himself. Scowling, and no doubt thinking of all the ways he could rip Luna’s contingent of guards apart, Brantus nods his head.

“I follow you, Noctra Havarax. I do your wish.” Brantus grates in his incredibly broken equish. Hearing that, Luna’s stomach unknots and she dips her head slightly, trying her hardest not to awkwardly shuffle on the spot.

“Excellent. Then…perhaps it is best if thou are shown to the guest rooms?” Luna barely squeezes out, turning toward Captain Arcana, pressing her lips together to remain as stoic and stony as possible, “If you would, Captain…”

Captain Arcana nods with an unhappy scowl, clearly wanting to protest the order.

“Follow me,” Arcana almost splits at the batpony intruders, animosity and distrust flowing through her words, “guards, on me. I will inform Your Majesty when it is done.”

Arcana marches out in double time, causing Brantus and Darvius to have to rush to catch up. The rest of the guard soon follow, leaving Luna alone to stare at her dim reflection in the polished marble.

Finally, she lets out the shaky breath she had been holding for the past fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes that felt like a lifetime.

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One hour later, outside Celestia’s chambers…

Night Light is more of a flat white kinda stallion, but tonight it’s efficiency over taste. To be honest, for many nights it has been efficiency over taste and the acid reflux has been a bit of a problem.

A small problem which is more telling of a deeper problem: Night Light is meant to be semi-retired. Instead of scrambling to prepare a short briefing about the resurgence of a terrorist organization that was thought to have been wiped out about six-hundred years ago, he was meant to be preparing government advertisements. Public library events and the like. Mundane. He could even work from home, book time to see his daughter or son, not get randomly called to midnight briefings.

“Piss on it, you bucking shitter…” Night Light mutters to no pony in particular. As in, no pony that is in the room. He really meant to say that to his boss, Covert Shroud, who practically smashed his door down to tell him the news. Just like how she smashed his door open about a week ago to inform him about a case she was working on that needed his help.

Can't blame her, she’s new and eager to impress.

Fortunately, his wife was on a mare’s trip in Manehattan at the time. At the time Covert Shroud showed up, Night Light and his wife would usually be… uhhh…

Force of habit from when their kids were young.

He scans the documents for the seventh time this evening.

Six hundred years of hiding… practically no trace… Night Light muses, flipping through a once incredibly dusty file full of civilian reports, and they called this pony crazy for keeping these… if it wasn’t for this, we’d be casting in the dark…

Seemingly tall tales of red-eyed vampires flicker past his vision, each one taller than the last.

They ate my farm animals… they abducted my children… they mind controlled my husband into a cheating slut… Night Light narrates in his mind, patiently waiting for Their Majesties to call him in. Mumbling, he finishes off his espresso, practically burning a hole in his stomach with how much coffee he had drunk since waking up.

The creak of Celestia’s oak doors causes him to look up, just in time to spot the poor secret service agent scurry out the door. No words are needed, Night Light knew exactly what had happened.

General Stoneheart. And she’s probably pissed. Night Light deduces. Sighing, he picks up his things and trots into the room. Luna, Celestia, and the increasingly irritated Stoneheart are sat along Celestia’s coffee table. Stoneheart grunts in greeting as Night Light settles into his seat across from them.

“Oh thank every last God or Goddess that may or may not exist that it’s you. That last mare was bucking useless,” Stoneheart moans, slamming her coffee onto the table and wiping her mouth with the back of her hoof, “y’know, ever since you left, military ‘intelligence’ has been a lot less intelligent.”

Night Light grimaces at the praise. If only Stoneheart knew what her nickname was back at the office…

He wastes no time, arranging the various clippings and notes from his file onto the table.

“Let’s start here,” Night Light taps on the copy of a very old document, “a report of Noctra Za’lav written about six hundred years ago. I’m sure you are familiar with it, Your Solar Majesty.”

Celestia nods in response, carefully spreading a coat of jam onto her raisin scone before taking a dainty bite. Luna leans over for a better look.

“Noctra Za’lav sightings have become incredibly uncommon. Recent scouting reports show no sign of activity along their hideouts…” Luna scans to the bottom of the report, “Local sightings have been investigated and no evidence has been found. Given the terrain they are faced with it is unlikely they will survive the summer. Noctra Za’lav is now marked as defunct and inactive.”

Luna sinks back into her seat cushion while dragging a hoof down her face. She shoots Celestia a worried look and the sisters have a short conversation with their facial expressions.

Ok, folklore seems all but confirmed… Night Light thinks while shifting the next set of documents into focus. Clearing his throat he continues: “Exactly. However that is clearly not the case. It’s not exactly clear what their goal is, but from the brief rundown I received about what happened in the throne room… I think everypony gets it.”

Night Light pauses to push the documents toward the trio, allowing them a brief moment to scan the information he was presenting.

“Now, according to the last known record detailing Noctra Za’lav’s movements, they were last spotted along the South Luna Ocean, one of their holy-”

“Yeah yeah, we know! I’ve already sent my mares down to check it out. You got anything new?” Stoneheart interrupts, her annoyance beamed straight toward Night Light in a death glare, “if you’re going to be like that last officer, then there’s no point talking to ‘intelligence’. Like I always say, nothing beats marepower.”

Don’t kill her.. Don’t kill her… Don’t kill her… Night Light repeats in his head before calmly pointing to the documents displayed before him.

“You’re looking in the wrong place. The report was correct, there is no way they could have survived the heat of the summer.” Night Light explains, sitting back down in his seat. Stoneheart grimaces, tilting her head at Night Light.

“Riiiiight, and how exactly do these documents prove that? All I can see are the insane ramblings of crazy ponies. Stuff you’d see on a mag: ‘Vampires Are Real: They Got Me Pregnant Out Of Heat!’ What kind of trash is this?” Stoneheart grunts, tapping her hoof and firing Night Light an unimpressed frown.

“I agree, these articles aren’t the most reliable - until you look at why they were saved,” Night Light taps his hoof on the top of each report, “every single report came from a town bordering the twin peaks.”

Luna’s eyes shrink into pinpricks and she suppresses a nervous swallow. The ever brash general Stoneheart lets out a mocking scoff, waving a hoof in front of her face.

“I had high hopes. You’ve got nothing, dismis-”

“He is correct. They are at the twin peaks,” Luna interjects, almost reverent in the hushed whisper she spoke in, “there is no doubt in my mind.”

Stoneheart flings her head around to give Luna a (angry) quizzical look before remembering who exactly she was looking at. Her expression softens to a more respectful one as she says in a calm tone: “Your Majesty, I do not believe that these reports are… trustworthy enough.”

Luna opens her mouth, clearly trying to form a rebuttal, yet something stops her. Passing it off as dry mouth, she smacks her lips before taking a sip of water. Night Light quashes his urge to raise an eyebrow at Luna. Celestia exchanges a quick worried look between Night Light and Luna.

“That will be all. Everypony is dismissed.” Celestia swiftly shuts down the conversation, gesturing toward the door.

“I’ve got work to do. Your Majesties.” Stoneheart salutes before marching for the door, no doubt marching straight to the war room.

With her gone, I can finally confirm some suspicions… Night Light thinks, purposely delaying the packing away of his documents to buy time for Stoneheart to leave and to calculate his next move.

I can fumble for about… three questions. He calculates, stacking all his documents neatly on the table. Night Light coughs, gathering the attention of the princesses.

“Your Majesties, in the interest of security and saving ponypower, it’s best not to work in the dark.” Night Light tactically says, dancing around the elephant in the room. At least, the elephant Night Light thinks exists. A dead and uncomfortable silence follows, enough to make any lesser pony shrink away in fear. But to Night Light this silence spoke greater than words could. The stack of documents find their way into his folder.

Two left…

“I have a daughter and a son. Many others have daughters and sons. For them, I am capable of withstanding any threat.” Night Light continues, ensuring his tone stays respectable, disguising his questions in doublespeak. Carefully eyeing Celestia, he witnesses, for the first time, her expression change to something akin to frustration.

Again, silence. Night Light’s question is entirely ignored. His documents slip into his saddlebags.

One left. Make it count, Night Light.

“Y’know, funny thing is, I’ve always preached honesty to my son and daughter. Yet at the same time, for them, the truth can become obscured. I can lie like-”

“Dismissed!” Celestia blurts, slamming the conversation to an abrupt close. If Night Light was startled, he hid it immensely well, clipping his saddlebag shut with an elegant bow.

“Yes, Your Majesties.” Night Light drawls, trotting out of the room in a timely fashion. Suits of armor and various pieces of art fly past him as he races out of earshot. Once confident nopony could hear him, he lets out a long and drawn out groan of pure frustration. Bringing his hoof to his temples, he massages in a circle, trying to unwind his growing migraine.

I spend ten years keeping secrets and the one time I need a bit of truth, I’m shut down, Night Light whines inwardly, smacking his head to straighten out his thoughts, it’s not even your job, Night Light, don’t bother.

Groaning again, he gazes up to the empty night sky, fixing his mind on the vastness and allowing it to absorb some of his irritation.

Leave it alone, Night Light… Life is good, you have 36 days of leave saved up. Your son is successful. Your daughter? Even more so…

Hm.

Sons and daughters.

Ah buck it, I could never have left this alone anyway. Night Light resolves, heading straight toward the archives.

Just what are you hiding?

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Meanwhile, Celestia’s chambers…

Smoke curls toward the ceiling, guided by a sparkling glow where it is eventually trapped in an expanding balloon of translucent gold.

Every window is sealed shut, layers upon layers of spells cast to ensure any errant smell, sound or sight is unable to exit.

Celestia takes a deep drag, burning half of her cigarette. She frowns at the taste, something akin to the smell of moldy radish. She levitates the box to her face. The cigarettes expired about seventy years ago.

Despite that, does the job. Celestia surmises, melting into her artificial relaxation. She spreads herself along the couch, not bothering to appear decent for her sister who is sitting opposite. Throwing her head back, she blows a massive smoke ring up into the air. It rises for a moment before it is swept away by her cleansing magic. Luna wrinkles her nose.

“Tia, I do not mind you… what was it you said? Smoking? But, I beseech you, please cover up thou privates. It is not a sight any need to see.” Luna snaps, breaking the awkward silence that had befell the room ever since Celestia started smoking.

“Oh piss off, Lu,” Celestia rambles, flicking a bit of ash toward Luna before taking another drag, blowing out whilst continuing her sentence, “literally every stallion and mare WISHES they could see me like this.”

“Fine, yes. But I am not literally every mare, I am thy sister. I do not need to see this.” Luna rebutts, turning her head away in disgust. Celestia grunts, lifting her butt up to unpin her tail, allowing it to come to rest in front of her privates.

“There. Happy? Since when were you the prude? Buzzkill.” Celestia snaps, smashing the rest of her cigarette into her teacup, swiftly drawing and lighting another one at the same time. Luna sniffs in response, dissociating from the room as she is pulled back into her thoughts.

Celestia seldom smokes, maybe once or twice every four hundred years or so. That’s what she tells herself anyway. A more accurate figure would be thrice every two hundred years, with each session usually spurred on by some kind of diplomatic nightmare. Usually one does the trick, but tonight called for more.

Many more.

The number one question is, how did they survive? It should have been impossible… They tried killing me… what? Countless times… Celestia muses, automatically taking another hit of nicotine before shoving some lemon drizzle cake down her gob. She frowns, the old cigarettes she is smoking severely affecting the taste of her sugary baked goods. Her eyes catch her sister.

Buuuuuuuuuuuck… just when things were starting to look up for Lu… the stress is going to make her- well probably us, explode. Celestia thinks, inspecting the ever distant, and almost quivering, Luna. Celestia scans the room, looking for something that could cheer her little sister up.

Her eyes settle on the faded text of the box in front of her.

Worth a shot…

“Hey, you want one? They’re good for stress.” Celestia offers, floating a cigarette to her sister’s side. Luna snaps out of her funk to give the white and orange cylinder a wary look.

“No. And by what thou have told me before, I shouldn’t. Thou did ban these, correct?” Luna snarks. Celestia scoffs.

“Ok, grouchy, suit yourself. More smokes for me. And I did ban them, they’re dangerous and addictive.” Celestia half jeers, half lectures, forcefully levitating the cigarette back into the box. Irate, Celestia takes another puff from her cigarette.

“Thou banned them under the grounds of danger, yet partake in them? All this preaching about honesty and virtue. Is that not the very definition of hypocrisy?” Luna mutters, venom entering her snide tone.

“Well, yeah, I did ban them. And yeah, it’s hypocritical. But it’s my ONE thing, Lu, my ONE THING THAT I CAN USE TO UNWIND!” Celestia almost screams, flinging spittle in the most unprincesslike manner, before continuing in a more relaxed, yet grouchy, manner, “Besides. I have perfect control. I can quit when I want.”

“Okay. Sure. I believe thee. Perfect control. Where have I heard this before?” Luna snarks, watching her sister take another bite of cake before delivering the killing blow: “Shove more cake down thy throat, tubby, thou certainly have no issues with addiction! Thou overgrown wine barrel with wings! ”

“Wine barrel!?!? I… You!...” Celestia puffs in indignation, gasping like a fish out of water for a rebuttal. In a moment of intense anger, her filter slips: “You bitch. Do you have any BUCKING idea how stressful taking care of you is? All your whining, yapping in my ear like an untrained dog. Ungrateful shit, don’t talk to me like that!” It exits Celestia’s mouth before she can think about what she was saying.

Luna looks shattered.

Before any semblance of an apology can form on Celestia’s lips, the room is filled with a cyan flash, and Luna is there no more.

Liar.

Author's Note

Hello.

I uhh... lost track of time and uhhh...

Listen, I have an excuse. University! Master's programme! Project! Cut me some slack I'm trying to cure cancer! (not really, my boss is trying to cure cancer, I'm more of a minion who runs samples for him)

Sorry its taken so long, my mind is occupied with too many other things to sit down and think about horsewords. Thankfully I don't have any lectures next year meaning I should have extra time to write (famous last words).

I've decided to split this chapter up into three parts - mostly because I felt bad for not publishing anything for a while but also because my plan for this chapter is really long and thinking about how long it was was discouraging me from sitting down and writing.

I hope what I've written is not too disappointing. I spent a lot of time deleting sections and rewriting them because I just couldn't get it right. But this is what I've decided on so I'm going to roll with it.

As always, thank you all for reading. Happy belated Christmas and new year to all. Good tidings etc etc. Have fun. Live life.