Snowflakes swirled lazily in the frigid air, clinging to Mayor Meadow’s green coat as she stood at the edge of the crowd. Her breath formed clouds in the cold, though she barely noticed it, her focus fixed on the thing lying in the snow before her. It looked like an otherworldly knight, a giant clad in armor that in no way seemed possible to wear. A massive blade, jagged and brutal, rested near its outstretched hand, half-buried in the snow while another weapon, something resembling a cannon, rested beside its hip.

Meadow shifted uncomfortably, her scarf pulled tight against her neck. The whispers of the gathered townsponies reached her ears, fragmented and nervous, but she didn’t turn to quiet them. She was the mayor—the one everypony looked to when there were decisions to make. She should have felt decisive, authoritative. Instead, her stomach churned with unease just looking at the glaring face staring back at her, her mind racing to make sense of the impossible sight before her.

How this giant showed up here she couldn’t begin to answer. It was just another day trying to keep the town afloat that some terrible noise broke out from the forest, scaring away flocks of birds. She thought it may have just been a very, very strange animal, but an hour later a group of fillies came running into town yelling about a “giant robot” in the snow, they may have been right in that description. Now here she was staring at it. It hadn’t moved at all her entire time there, and if the gashes and tears all across it were any indication, it wasn’t going to. She didn’t know if that was comforting or worrying.

Her eyes darted back to the sword, its serrated teeth gleaming under the weak sun. It was monstrous in size, clearly not made for hooves or magic, yet the craftsmanship spoke of wealth, power, and something else she couldn’t quite name. It was mesmerizing. She imagined what something like it could do for her struggling town—what the bits from something like that might buy. Just by looking at it she could see the gleaming gold on the pommel all the way to the edge of its spine, it looked pure too. Expensive looking marble, intricate engravings of a language she didn’t know, even gems that would put any other to shame, and all of that was just this creature's sword.

A sudden thought tightened her chest with guilt. She wasn’t a bad pony; she had always worked for her town, fought to keep it standing even as the silver mines ran dry. But looking at that weapon, at the rest of the being, she could practically see the bits pouring from every crevice of it. She swallowed hard and tore her gaze away, but the idea had already taken root.

“Mayor,” a voice called from her side. Meadow turned to see her deputy, his usual stoic demeanor undercut by the nervous flick of his ears. “The ponies are spooked.”

“Send word to the Crystal Empire,” she said. “We shouldn’t keep this here.” Normally she would let Canterlot know about something like this, but she had enough worries on her plate, she didn’t need a giant alien laying dead on her town's border freaking out her townsfolk, and the empire being so close meant this thing would be out of her hooves sooner by letting them take it.

Even as the words left her mouth, her mind lingered on the blade, on all the other polished and gleaming metals. Her gaze flickered back, just for a second, before she forced herself to look away. Just one of those things, if they were as precious as they looked, could give her enough bits to turn the town's dour state around.

“We can’t leave it out here in the snow,” she said. “Somepony get some rope spool… Hickory’s shop can house it.”

They had needed more than one spool. Just moving it out of the crater it made took almost all the Earth ponies in the town. She had tried her magic on it but just making it budge took everything out of her. She didn’t know why but a few hours ago multiple of the townsfolk decided to head off for some “trip” into the woods, which only made moving the giant harder for whoever was still around.

It took some time, a long time, but the townsfolk managed to drag the giant into the blacksmiths shop. She wanted to bring it to her office, but if the effort just to make it move was any sign, her wooden floors wouldn’t fare well.

The air inside the blacksmith’s workshop was warm, a stark contrast to the frigid snow slowly piling up just beyond its wooden walls; this year's Hearth Warming didn’t go easy on the snow, at least it gave the fillies and colts something nice to play in. Meadow stood near the exit, her gaze fixed on the hulking figure laid out on Hickory’s stone floor. The massive armored body took up nearly the entire length of the floor, its cracked and blackened plates gleaming faintly in the firelight.

Cleaned of snow she could get a better look at how terribly damaged the giant was. Meadow could scratch off the idea of it being some robot that escaped from an underground facility; its missing arm revealed a living limb on the inside, she felt a little sick looking at the ripped muscle and exposed bone. All over it looked to be damaged, some gashes so deep she could see the furless skin beneath. She could see what was directly beneath the armor as well; wires and other assortments of machinery travelled all across it.

Hickory, the town’s blacksmith, worked diligently, his hooves moving with practiced ease. The stallion was a gruff but reliable sort, his mane and coat was dirtied with soot from today's work, and likely the day before as well. Tonight, however, his steady demeanor was tinged with awe—and no small amount of frustration.

“This… this stuff ain’t metal,” Hickory muttered, his voice low and reverent. He tapped the vambrace of the armored giant with a small hammer, the ringing sound sharper and higher than any metal he’d worked with before, the noise died as quickly as it came. “At least, not anything I’ve ever seen. Stronger than steel, tougher than dragon scales. Whatever it is, it’s rarer than diamond considering I haven't even heard of anything close to whatever this could be.”

Mayor Meadow’s ears perked at that, her heart quickening. ‘Rarer than diamond’ she thought. The words echoed in her mind, filling her with a mixture of excitement and unease. The blacksmith’s words confirmed what she had already begun thinking to herself: this was her ticket to freedom, or at least financially.

Even now, tucked away in her office, the sword and the tattered loincloth were safely hidden away. She had claimed them earlier under the guise of ensuring they weren’t lost or damaged. But the more she saw, the more she wanted. If the Crystal Empire took the body, there would be nothing left for her or the town.

“Can you remove that bird symbol?” Meadow asked, her voice tight as she gestured toward the chest plate where the double-headed eagle emblem was emblazoned. It looked like copper to her, but a lighter shade, almost like a mix of copper and gold, and whatever it was it seemed much more valuable than the copper she knew.

Hickory shook his head, wiping sweat from his brow. “Not a chance. I’ve tried everything short of breaking my tools. That thing’s built from something just as tough as the rest of it. Whoever made this didn’t want it coming off.”

Meadow frowned, pacing in tight circles near the entrance, taking a second to make sure nobody was showing up to the shop, she looked back to Hickory. “What about the helmet, then? Can you at least get that off?” The white helmet looked… angry. She had no idea what she would do with it, but somepony would pay a good price for it, right? Maybe some scientist would want it, alien technology wasn’t something that showed up every day, and she’d be helping all of Equestria that way.

Hickory hesitated, glancing at the massive figure on the table. “Might be able to but… what exactly are we tryna’ take it apart for? I thought you wanted the empire to take it?” His dirty hoof scratched his neck nervously. “And I don’t feel too comfortable keepin’ all this weird… alien stuff in the town.”

Meadow’s ears twitched, but she quickly forced a smile. “Oh, Hickory, don’t worry about that. I just want to make sure we… understand what we’re dealing with before they take it.” She waved a hoof dismissively, her tone light and reassuring. “You know how these royals are—they’ll probably just take it, slap some shiny plaque on it, and act like they know everything about it. At least this way, we’ll have something to show for it.”

The blacksmith didn’t look entirely convinced, his brow furrowing as he glanced back at the armor. “I don’t know, Mayor. Really feels like we’re pokin’ at somethin’ we shouldn’t.”

Meadow’s patience frayed, but she kept her tone steady. “Hickory, you’re the best blacksmith—” The only blacksmith “—in Silverton. If anypony can handle this, it’s you. Just focus on the helmet. That’s all I need.”

With a reluctant nod, Hickory turned back to his tools, though the unease in his eyes hadn’t faded. Meadow exhaled silently, brushing a stray lock of her mane from her face. It’s fine, she told herself. Just one more piece.

Hickory moved to the back of it, taking a minute to look at what looked like a weird backpack. “This thing’s almost the most banged-up part of it,” he said, gesturing to the cracked and exposed inner workings. “It’s got some kind of tech in here I’ve never seen before…”

Hickory adjusted his stance, bracing himself as he hooked one hoof under the rim of the backpack for leverage. He pressed against the damaged power unit with his weight, focusing on the helmet’s neck. For a moment, it seemed like he was making progress. He managed to find where the helmet met the black thing covering the neck, digging away at it with a screwdriver.

“Almost there,” Hickory grunted, his hoof slipping slightly against the armor’s smooth surface. He adjusted, pressing harder against the exposed inner workings of the backpack. But as he shifted his weight, his hoof slipped further, jamming deep into the exposed machinery.

A sudden, deafening roar filled the workshop. The armor screamed to life, the crimson lenses of the helmet’s visor blazing with an intense glow. Hickory yelped, stumbling back as a wave of heat surged through his leg, leaving scorch marks on his hoof. The back blared with a mechanical fury, the hum and grinding machinery of its inner workings rising to a crescendo before abruptly cutting out. The glow in the helmet faded, and the suit fell silent once more, the only sound the panicked breathing of the two ponies.

Meadow’s heart pounded as her wide eyes darted between the now-lifeless armor and Hickory. The blacksmith stumbled back, clutching his burned hoof. “Tartarus take me… What was that?!” he gasped.

Meadow didn’t answer, too stunned to speak. Her gaze slowly drifted downward, her blood running cold at what she saw. The armored figure’s hand, once lifeless, was now embedded in the stone floor. The moment of power had been enough for it to dig its massive fingers into the rock as if it were soft clay.

‘Sweet Celestia,’ she thought.

“We-e’re done,” Meadow said, her voice trembling. “We’re stopping here. No more.”

Hickory nodded quickly, limping away from the armored figure, his face pale. Neither of them dared to look back as they hastily exited the workshop. He winced with each step, “I think I’m gonna need the doc.”

As Meadow stepped outside, the cold air hit her like a slap. She inhaled deeply, trying to steady her racing heart. But before she could collect herself, a sharp voice made her jump.

“Mayor Meadow?”

She turned sharply, her eyes meeting those of a winged stallion clad in armor with a crystal sheen, matching their crystal blueish coat.

“We’ve come to retrieve the… giant,” the guard said, his tone professional but carrying a hint of confusion at the situation.

Meadow swallowed hard, forcing herself to nod and smile. “Yes, of course,” she said, her voice thin. She stepped aside, gesturing toward the workshop. “It’s… it’s inside. We kept it warm while… waiting for you to arrive.”

The guards moved past her in an orderly formation. As they entered the workshop, Meadow remained outside, her legs trembling beneath her. She glanced at Hickory, who sat nearby on an overturned barrel, inspecting his injured hoof.

“I think I’m gonna need to see the doc, that burn felt deep.” He winced when he touched his hoof.

“That would be wise,” Meadow said, feeling sorry for Hickory’s leg. “Thank you for helping. You should take the rest of the holiday easy.”

Hickory nodded, giving Meadow a farewell as he limped away to the doctors home, he didn’t enjoy knowing he’d have to wake up the likely sleeping doc.

Meadow waited outside as the guards did their work. It took a long time for them to finally get the giant out and onto a cart that seemed almost designed for the giant, by the time the guards gave their professional farewells and trotted off with the giant in stow, Luna’s moon had already taken its place in the sky.

Festivities would begin soon, everypony would be celebrating at the town center for Hearth Warming Eve. Meadow decided it would be a good way to unwind from the situation. She had a lot to celebrate for after all, she had just earned the town a hopeful future.

The prospects in her mind put a smile on her face, the anticipation getting to her easily. Maybe she could put those bits into a new income for the town? First she would take some to purchase Hickory something nice for sacrificing a good hoof, maybe he’d like some new tools?

A sudden thought hit her, something that had been on the back of her mind for a while now: A ski resort…

With the growing warmth and excitement in her chest, she trotted off to join the townsfolk; tonight would be her greatest celebration in a long while.

“The sun hasn’t moved,” Locari said almost absentmindedly. Another body laid limp in his hand as he patrolled around the Thunderhawk. He strode to the center of the xeno creation and set the winged body in with the rest, the corpses had formed a small pile.

“I’ve noticed,” said Calsin with a grunt of pain. He had remained within the Thunderhawk, his attention focused on his sacred task. Two of the honored dead had their gene seed extracted and their rites given, fabric was draped over them to shield them from this world.

Calsin had spared a moment to examine Daedryn. Whatever Daedryn had seen when they had tumbled into the Warp had left its mark; his eyes were no more, and through Calsin’s auto-sensors he could see everything else was reduced to a chunky liquid seeping from his skull. Calsin still performed the same duty with Deadryn, but had set his geneseed apart from the rest, he would not risk the Warp’s contamination.

Calsin now worked on the last fallen brother, the Narthecium cut into the ceramite chest, its cut clean and precise, a moment more and Calsin was carving through bone and muscle to reach the hallowed organ within. He whispered passages as he completed his work, doing as best he could to limit the damage his instruments caused on the armor and body.

Locari had set the final body into the pile. Before they could leave they had to cleanse this site of its immaterial taint, wood staff's burning sacred incense had been placed around the heretical glyphs on the ground, the vapors overwhelmed the air of the unholy site.

Locari set his eyes on a rune in his helmet, with a blink he activated it, a static humming in his ear as his vox-caster came to life. He let the static go for some time, changing frequencies while he took a standing position just outside the Thunderhawk’s ramp. He had repeated numerous times since he had put the aliens to death, trying to find any signal at all, but the only signal he could get was from Calsin.

“Your leg, how is it?” Calsin had said, his focus still on his work, setting aside extracted bone as his servo-arms delved further into the fallen marine.

Locari hadn’t thought about his injury since he arrived, a numbness was all he felt. “It will heal,” he said, focusing his eyes on the numerous holes in Calsin’s armor, and the pained way Calsin moved and grunted with any significant action. “You’ve suffered worse than me; you should prioritize your own wellbeing.”

“I’m stable enough to complete my task.”

“What counts for you as ‘stable enough’?”

Calsin didn’t reply to the question, with a one more cut he removed the larger progenoid in the dead marine, inspecting it for any clear sign of mutation or damage before storing it within one of the Narthecium’s stasis tubes. Finally he stood, taking an instant longer than he should have to do it, and faced Locari.

“Normally such injuries would require me to implant artificial organs in the injured so they could continue fighting. With me being the injured one my options are limited.” Calsin checked over the data on his Narthecium’s cogitator display, with a touch his visor display showed the state of his own body. “I’ve already injected a compound to help with the problem, and internal bleeding is—by the Emperor’s genius—not something to fret over. I would enjoy stimms to dull the pain but it’d be a waste.”

Calsin changed his display back to its standard layout, turning to Locari. “As I said… stable enough.”

Locari eyed Calsin for sometime, before returning his thoughts to his brothers. “I’ve tried my vox numerous times, I get nothing but static. Do we have anything on their fates?” Alongside his vox, Locari’s other connections to his squad had been severed since he was flung away from them.

“Three locator beacons have been lit since we arrived…” Calsin paused for a moment, regarding his display and letting out a subdued sigh. “Brother Queren rests north of us, Brother Caedus in the south, and Brother Marnel far to the east.”

“Then we have our direction,” Locari said enthusiastically. “We burn this heretical site and go rescue our brothers.”

“The locator is meant for my use,” Calsin said, melancholy in his words. “Its simplistic design and purpose is what lets the signal reach me. It is supposed to activate upon the marine’s demise.”

Locari paused before speaking, now with a more quiet tone. “Then they are dead…”

“Maybe… the beacon can be activated by the marine themselves. I had watched Queren’s—they update by the hour and he has been on the move. We shouldn’t let hope meddle with our expectations, the xenos could be moving his remains.”

Locari felt hatred at the mere idea. “If the bastards dare desecrate our brothers' remains they will pay in blood for every slight against them.”

Calsin nodded in agreement. “Let us finish our work here; burn the heretics and their little project.”

Locari was glad one of his brothers had the foresight to stock a flamer pistol on the ship.

He watched with crossed arms as the bodies burned under the bright flames, feeling a sense of calm as the cleansing fire consumed the Warp-tainted remains. The ground beneath the flames hissed and cracked, purged of its corruption. The sickly stench of the Immaterium gave way to the sharp, acrid scent of burning flesh and wood.

Nearby, Calsin had removed Daedryn from his seat, laying each of the dead gently beside one another. They would receive a proper cremation once the cleansing was complete. Now, Calsin stood beside Locari, his form motionless save for the occasional adjustment of his equipment. Both Marines watched the darkened forest beyond the flames, their senses sharp and attuned to the slightest disturbance.

“I’m worried about how the 7th is faring,” Locari said, breaking the silence. “We should be with them… How many more losses will they take without your efforts, Brother Calsin?”

Calsin didn’t turn his gaze from the trees. “I have no doubt our brothers are celebrating another victory at this very moment, and mourning their losses with pride for their honorable fallen.” His tone carried a solemn reverence, but something in it seemed distant.

Locari glanced at his companion, frowning. “You sound certain… what if they think we are dead?”

“They don’t think we are dead, Locari.” Calsin’s voice hardened as he glared at the smoldering bodies. “They know it. We are dead.”

Locari’s breath caught for a moment, and he stared at Calsin, who finally turned to meet his gaze. The flames reflected in Calsin’s helm gave a tired look on the white ceramite.

“What are you saying?” Locari asked, his voice just above a whisper.

Calsin gestured toward the pyre and the desolation around them. “Look at where we stand, Brother. Our survival here is a fluke—a fleeting moment bought with the blood of the fallen. By the reckoning of our chapter, of the 7th, of the Imperium itself… we are already lost.”

Locari’s voice hardened, defiance creeping into his tone. “But the Emperor knows the truth. If the 7th mourns us, then we must show them they mourn in error. We can return—there must be some way to return our brothers home.”

Calsin shook his head, turning back to the fire. “Perhaps… But until then, we remain as we are. Dead men walking.”

The two Marines stood watching the flames in silence, the flickering light dancing across their armor. The crackle of burning wood and flesh filled the air, a harsh yet oddly rhythmic sound.

After a moment, Calsin broke the long silence, his tone suddenly lighter. “Once while I was passing through your squad’s living quarters, I noticed tiny wooden figures in your room. Is wood carving your passion?”

Locari blinked, caught off guard by the abrupt change in topic. His brow furrowed as he processed the question, then he let out a soft chuckle. “Not quite. I’ve taken to marble sculpting. The wooden figures were practice pieces… experiments in form before committing to stone.”

Calsin tilted his head, his interest clear. “Marble sculpting, hmm? What were you working on?”

“I had hoped to create something for Sanguinala,” Locari replied, his voice softening as he spoke. “The sculpture was nearly completed before we were deployed. Though now… looking back, I doubt I would have finished it in time.”

Calsin’s tone grew curious. “What did it depict?”

“A pair of angelic figures cloaked in light, their wings intertwining,” Locari explained. “It was meant to symbolize and honor our chapter’s path.”

Calsin nodded thoughtfully, his gaze still fixed on the flames. “A noble piece. Perhaps you will finish it one day.”

Locari smiled faintly. “Perhaps.” He hesitated for a moment before turning the question back. “And you, Brother Calsin? Do you have any pursuits outside our duties?”

Calsin glanced at him, his lense catching the firelight. “When I allow myself such indulgences, I tend to plants I collect from the worlds we visit.”

Locari raised a brow. “Plants? Not something I would have expected.”

Calsin’s voice softened as he explained, his stoicism giving way to an almost wistful tone. “I find them on deployment. Sometimes, I discover one with a unique taste. I’ll extract it, refine it into an herb, and give it to the serfs. They use it to season the meals when the company feasts.”

Locari chuckled. “You—a gardener and chef. I never would have guessed.”

Calsin seemed ready to continue their conversation, yet as his vox grill came to life both men’s senses screamed in warning. Locari’s hands were filled by his bolter in an instant, Calsin’s weapon already aimed for whatever struck their senses.

This world, by what they could gather was tidally locked, the sun hadn’t moved since their arrival, and yet shadows now danced across the ground.

Both marines gazed around the landscape, befuddlement was the only thing they could feel at this sight. They gazed at the sun above, it was moving, moving at a speed that should be tearing the star to pieces.

“By the Emperor… what sorcery could…” Locari couldn’t finish his words. Darkness blanketed the land, a moment later and a moon they just now knew the existence of rested on a starry sky.

Calsin had no words, he only gazed at the pale lunar rock above. Both men rested their weapons, but their nerves remained sharpened.

They remained still for some unknown time, they didn’t know how to respond to this. They had no time to ponder the phenomenon, for an alert on Calsin’s cogitator broke the silence.

“By His throne...” Calsin muttered, leaning closer to his display. “Procuran.”

Locari turned to him, his bolter still clutched tightly in his hands. “Sergeant Procuran?”

“His locator beacon,” Calsin replied, his tone urgent yet restrained. “It just activated. North of here. Only a few hours' march.”

Locari’s hearts quickened. A glimmer of hope sparked within him. “You said they could be activated by us willingly. He could be alive!”

Calsin did not share Locari’s optimism. He straightened, his gaze flickering between the cogitator and the darkened forest. “We do not know what activated the beacon. It could be anything. Still, we cannot ignore it.”

Locari nodded firmly, his resolve unwavering. “Then we move. If there’s even a chance, we must act.”

Without another word, Locari made for the Thunderhawk, his movements purposeful as he began readying the necessary equipment. He secured extra ammunition, explosives, and anything else he could see being used, all while keeping his thoughts focused on the possibility that Procuran might yet be among the living.

Calsin followed close behind, his actions more methodical but no less efficient. As he secured his supplies, his gaze drifted back to his cogitator; the display flickered briefly, his jaw tightened.

The beacon was gone as soon as it arrived.

“Damnation,” Calsin swore under his breath. The sudden silence of the cogitator made the weight in his chest heavier. Still, he didn’t pause for long. “The beacon has gone dark.”

Locari paused in his preparations, his eyes narrowing. “That only means we must hurry. It could have been interference.”

Calsin nodded grimly, securing his pistol to his thigh. “Then let us not waste another moment.”

To a normal man, the speeds at which Locari moved would have made the passing trees and plants little more than a blur, but Locari’s eyes were not those of a normal man. For hours, he had run tirelessly, Calsin close ahead. Any creature in their path wisely fled at the thunderous stomps of the two Space Marines, their presence an imposing force in the quiet wilderness.

Only when Calsin slowed did Locari follow suit. They reached the forest's edge, where the dense trees and shrubs gave way to long, flattened stretches of snow. Before them lay a sight both found woefully unappealing.

The settlement was crude by Imperial standards—little more than wooden structures clustered together, with faintly glowing lights strung overhead. The two Marines took cover behind a dense patch of trees, their enhanced visors scanning the settlement for any signs of their missing brother.

Locari could hear Calsin’s heavy breaths from behind his helmet. Locari regarded Calsin for a moment, Calsin’s chest moving with each inhale. Locari did his best to ignore the sight.

“A town of the disgusting creatures,” Locari muttered, his voice laced with contempt. He frowned as his optics zoomed in on the numerous small figures moving about the settlement. “Are you certain he’s here?”

“This is where the signal originated. He was here,” Calsin replied, his breath no longer heavy, his voice calm but measured.

Locari’s hope faltered as he took in the still-standing village. The fact that the settlement remained intact, its inhabitants alive and moving freely, meant only that Procuran wasn’t. A cold anger simmered within Locari, but he tempered his desire. Justice would come in time.

Locari swept his gaze across the settlement, scrutinizing every detail. To the left, a trail in the snow caught his attention—a path leading from one of the buildings into the forest. Something heavy had been dragged across the ground, the hoof-shaped prints around it revealing the involvement of the xenos. “They moved him,” Locari growled. “Dragged his body into their den. They led him into…” His gaze traced the trail to a structure with a stone floor. “They took him in there.”

Armored figures—pathetically armored—went to-and-fro from the trail. Perhaps they were the warriors of this species. Using his auspex he focused on where they were going, some were huddled around something in the woods, perhaps studying whatever was there. A closer look and Locari could make out some crystalline structure on their bodies and equipment, much to his confusion. Neither man made a comment on the new type of alien.

Calsin’s eyes shifted to a separate set of tracks—larger sled marks leading away from the settlement and into the mountains. At the end of the trail, faint lights glowed against the snow capped peaks, hinting at another settlement or facility. “Then he was moved again,” Calsin said. “They’ve taken him into the mountains.”

“We have our lead,” Locari said, standing and preparing to move.

“But where is he being taken, and why?” Calsin asked, placing a hand on the beaked muzzle of his helmet, his tone thoughtful.

Locari’s grip tightened on his bolter. “Whatever their reasons, they will die the same for it. We may be able to reach the desecrators while they are still on the move.”

“Hold, Brother.” Calsin’s voice was calm yet commanding, halting Locari mid-step. “We are running blind. Charging after them without understanding their intentions or capabilities is reckless.”

Locari turned sharply, his frustration evident. “You would have us sit idle while they defile Procuran's remains? Or worse, use them for their heretical machinations? We must act now.”

“And if we are walking into an ambush?” Calsin countered. “They have civilization and sapience. Our only knowledge of them is their willingness to commune with the Warp. That alone makes them a threat— an unknown one at that.”

Locari scoffed, gesturing toward the settlement. “Look at them, Brother. They are small and weak—their bodies break with the smallest effort. We have faced far worse than these pathetic creatures.”

“As true as your words may be,” Calsin replied evenly, “now is not the time for needless risk-taking. Precision will serve us better than brute force.”

Calsin paused, his gaze focusing on a particular alien near the center of the settlement—a green-coated creature wearing a scarf. It moved with purpose, receiving deference from the others. “That one may be their leader, mayor, or whatever equivalent they have. We will interrogate it.”

Locari tempered his irritation, lowering himself back into cover. “How can you tell?”

“By its behavior and the way its kin act around it,” Calsin explained. “It directs their celebration. While I cannot be certain, it is a logical conclusion.”

Locari watched the xeno for a moment. His brows furrowed watching its horn light up with sorcerous power, moving objects with its mind. “When will we move?”

Calsin studied the settlement for a moment longer before replying. “They are in celebration. We will wait until the one in charge separates from the flock and is alone.”

Meadow’s hooves felt like lead as she trudged up the snowy path to her office, which also served as her home. The night had been cathartic in some ways—the celebration did numbers to ease the stress she built up over the year. She turned the key and pushed open the door, weariness settled in like a heavy blanket.

She stepped inside and closed the door behind her, the warmth of her home like a fresh breath of air. Every now and then her thoughts went back to the alien objects now laying around her office, her mind going towards what she could do with them. Who would want such things? A giant sword chainsaw, a cannon she could almost fit her hoof into, a locked container she felt would belong in a church, and the few other things she managed to get off of the giant. Maybe some rich business man who wanted a new display piece? Or maybe even a scientist or more who wanted to study them? She guessed she’d figure it out soon enough.

Meadow eased into her chair, letting out a sigh as she placed her candle on the desk. Her eyes fell on one of the trinkets—a small red wax seal, with writing dangling beneath it in a language she couldn’t make anything of.

It shimmered faintly in the dim light, the wax design depicted a skull she never had seen before. A pang of guilt struck her chest, but she told herself it would be worth it. These could change everything for the better. Couldn't they?

She wouldn’t have to rely on everything outside of the town just to keep it afloat.

She reached out to touch the wax, but a sudden chill swept through the room, sending shivers down her spine. The candle’s flame wavered in the draft. She frowned, glancing toward the window, which now stood wide open, curtains fluttering gently in the cold night air.

“That’s strange…” she murmured to herself. She couldn’t remember opening the window—it wasn’t something she ever did, especially on a night as cold as this.

Meadow peered out into the night from her window, the cold wind nipping at her face. She saw nothing unusual beyond the quite forest ahead. She exhaled heavily, a puff of mist escaping her lips, and shook her head. “Just nerves,” she muttered, pulling the window shut.

As her hooves reached for the latch, something outside moved..

A massive armored hand smashed through the window frame, glass shattering in jagged shards. Before Meadow could even scream, the hand clamped around her neck with a grip so crushing she thought her skull might burst. Her legs flailed helplessly as she was yanked from the safety of her home and into the frigid night. Shards of glass bit into her coat, slicing at her as she was dragged out.

She was slammed against the outer wall of her home, rattling her teeth. The wood groaned and creaked, threatening to collapse under the force. Her chest heaved, desperate for air, but the iron grip on her throat didn’t relent.

Her wide, terrified eyes met her attacker’s face. A monstrous, white beak-like helmet loomed over her, glowing crimson lenses glaring down at her like the eyes of some unfeeling predator. She tried to speak, to beg, to cry out—but no sound came. Her body shook violently, paralyzed by fear and the suffocating presence of the giant.

Unconsciously, her horn sparked to life, her magic flaring in a panicked reflex. She didn’t even know what she was attempting—her mind was a storm of terror and confusion.

The figure reacted instantly. Its other hand shot out and grasped her horn. Meadow’s mind barely registered what was happening before a sickening snap filled the air.

Her horn disappeared under the giant’s grip. A jarring, alien sensation flooded her senses, like a wave of emptiness crashing over her. For a moment, her mind was blank, her vision swimming.

Then the pain struck.

A howl of agony tore through her chest, but before it could escape her lips, the giant’s hand clamped down over her muzzle. Her bones groaned under the pressure, her jaw threatening to break as the armored fingers crushed her cry into silence.

Tears streamed down her face as the pain and fear overwhelmed her, her legs twitching feebly. She would only take her eyes from the white beast when another giant met her eyes. It was taller, it looked angrier, staring down at her like she was an insect.

She heaved again and again, her body begging for air when she had plenty. Her nostrils burned as she forced cold air down into her. They didn’t move, they merely stared. No, they weren’t just staring, they made noises, a strange click came from their grill mouth and beak respectively.

Her eyes darted to them both. It was more of those giants, the grey faced one shared the same face, just different in color and armor only slightly more imposing. She had to blink, her eyes stinged from the cold but she was too scared to let them out of her sight.

But what difference would it make?

Another click and the grey and black armored one walked, walked through the wood of her home; the wood bent and gave in with no effort made by the giant. It was in her home, its heavy feet destroyed her floorboards, she could hear it do so.

“Are you their leader?”

Her eyes darted back to the white one, it spoke. Its voice grated her ears, it was unnatural as if shoved through a radio time and time again before reaching her. It let go of her muzzle, she wanted to scream for help but she couldn’t.

Leader? Leader of what? She thought.

Right, mayor, I’m a mayor. She didn’t want to do or say anything, she gave it a shaky nod.

“Good…” the voice grated again, cold and unnatural, like metal grinding against metal. The lack of anger in its tone somehow made it even more terrifying. It wasn’t enraged—it was calculating.

The other giant, the grey-and-black-armored one, moved throughout her home. It moved with its unnatural weight, each step cracking and splintering the wooden floorboards beneath it. Meadow’s heart sank as she heard her home being ruined, but she would rather it be turned to ash than be here an instant more.

The white one, who still held her pinned to the wall, tilted its head slightly. “Where is he?”

Meadow blinked, her breath catching in her throat. “W-where is who?” she stammered, her voice trembling.

The giant’s grip on her throat tightened, not enough to choke her again, but enough to remind her how easily it could. “Do not play coy, xeno,” it said, its voice dropping even lower. “Where is the one you took? The one who was here.”

Meadow’s mind raced, but she was too terrified to really think. “Th-they took him to the Crystal Empire!” she blurted out. “I—I don’t know why, I swear! The Crystal Guard—they came, they took him away. I didn’t have a choice!”

The white-armored giant stared at her, its silence more menacing than any accusation. “Why was he brought there?” it demanded after a long pause. “Why desecrate his remains?”

“I—I didn’t…” Meadow began, but the look—or what she thought was a look—stopped her. “We—we didn’t mean to do anything to him! He was already—already broken when we found him. We just… we didn’t know what to do!”

The giant said nothing, letting her words hang in the freezing air. Its grip loosened slightly, but Meadow didn’t dare move.

Inside her home, Locari’s voice came through the destroyed hole in the wall, distorted but clear. “Calsin, I’ve found them. His belongings.”

Calsin’s head turned slightly toward his brother. Locari stepped out of the ruined door frame, holding Procuran’s items reverently in his hands. The massive chainsword rested across his arm, its serrated teeth gleaming in the moonlight. A crimson fabric, the one draped between the dead giants legs, tattered but unmistakably sacred, fluttered in the cold wind as he carried it out. The cannon that looked small on the giant was stuck on its thigh.

Locari’s movements were deliberate and careful, as though handling relics too precious for mortal hands. Meadow couldn’t read his expression behind his helm, but there was something in the way he moved—reverence and suppressed fury.

Calsin’s gaze returned to Meadow, his red eyes narrowing beneath his helmet. “A mayor and a thief,” he said, his voice cold and unfeeling.

Meadow’s ears flattened, and tears welled in her eyes. “I didn’t—I wasn’t trying to steal!” she cried, her words tumbling out in desperation. “I only took a few things to keep them safe, to make sure they weren’t lost before the guard could take them. I—I thought—”

“You thought to profit,” Calsin interrupted, his tone unchanged. “To line your pockets with the relics of the righteous. Am I wrong?”

“No!” Meadow’s voice broke, tears streaming down her face. “I just wanted to help everypony here. Please, you have to believe me. I didn’t know what I was doing. I didn’t understand—”

“Your ignorance does not absolve you.” Calsin’s voice was a judgment rendered, cold and final. “You defiled what you could not comprehend. And for that, you will answer, pony.”

He released her, and she crumpled to the snow, clutching her chest and sobbing. Above her, they loomed like executioners.

Locari’s voice rumbled again, his gaze fixed on the banner. “What shall we do with it, Brother?”

Calsin didn’t answer immediately. His red eyes bore into Meadow as she shivered in the snow. After a long pause, he turned to Locari.

“We will use it,” he said. “For now.”

Meadow’s sobs caught in her throat as she looked up. What did they mean to do? What did “use” mean to creatures like them?

Calsin turned back to her, his voice cutting through her panic. “You will guide us to the mountains. To where they took him.”

Meadow nodded frantically, the words spilling from her lips. “Y-yes! Yes, I’ll help. Anything, please. Just don’t hurt me, I’ll do whatever you need.”

Her ear flinched at a knocking from behind her, from her front door. She could hear the muffled voices of ponies through the wooden door.

“Ms.Meadow? We’d like to ask you a few more questions about the… giant.” It was the guards. She felt a twinge of hope, maybe they could—what could they do?

“Look, Mayor, we know you took some of what it had. We aren’t here to arrest you or anything, but those items aren’t safe, ma’am.” She wanted them to leave, but she wanted them to bring her with them.

She looked back up at the giants, they stared at each other, that same clicking noise was all she heard from them.

Calsin stared down at her again. “You said you wanted to help this place?”

She doubted it now, she nodded.

“We will give it the help it deserves. Locari…” Locari had secured Procurans belongings to himself, his loincloth sat in a pouch while the sword and pistol were maglocked to his sides. Locari turned to Calsin.

“Make sure she doesn’t run off.”

Locari nodded, kneeling down and grasping Meadow. She tried to kick away but it did nothing. She heard something unsheath from his side, her eyes darted to a large metal glinting in the moonlight. She tried kicking, bucking away, he pushed down so hard she felt a rib would break.

Locari gazed across the aliens body, taking in its musculature. He drifted to its hind legs, grasping them and without another second plunging his knife into it, the xeno screamed.

He stood and followed Calsin, sheathing his knife.

“Ma’am? Ma’am!” one of the guards called from the other side of the door, urgency rising in their tone. Another muttered something about breaking it down, but they wouldn’t need to.

With a single shove, Calsin sent the door flying off its hinges. It struck the pony standing just outside, sending them sprawling into the snow with the heavy wooden door landing squarely on top of them. The dull thud was accompanied by startled gasps from the other guards.

Calsin and Locari stepped through the ruined doorway, their massive frames breaking what remained of the door frame as they moved. The sound of splintering wood and the crunch of snow under their boots filled the tense silence. The armored guards stood frozen, their breaths visible in the cold night air, watching as the two giants came to a halt a few feet away.

The Astartes stopped, their imposing forms towering over the ponies. Crimson visors glared down at the guards, and the faint hum of their power armor added to the suffocating tension. The only sound was the timid, uneven breathing of the xenos before them, and the numerous unarmored civilians that watched from the streets and their homes.

Calsin’s voice came through the vox-link, cold and precise. “Kill the winged ones first.”

Locari’s gaze shifted slightly as he scanned the guards. His reply was quiet but curious. “What makes them special?”

“We can’t have one flying off to tell the world about us,” Calsin answered.

As the two Marines exchanged their private dialogue, the sensitive audio receptors in their helmets easily picked up the whispered words of the guards’ leader. The crystal mare, trying to remain calm despite her trembling voice, leaned toward one of the pegasi.

“Get to the Crystal Empire,” she murmured urgently. “Notify the princess immediately. Go. Now.”

The pegasus nodded, fear in their eyes as they spread their wings. Locari moved faster than any of the xenos could comprehend.

Before the pegasus could lift off, Locari raised his pistol and fired a single round. The weapon’s roar shattered the stillness of the night, and the pegasus crumpled to the ground in an instant, a smoking stump where its head had been.

The other guards recoiled, stunned and horrified. Blood stained the snow beneath the fallen pegasus, steam rising faintly in the frigid air. The lead guard saw drops of crimson dripping from the edges of her helmet.

Civilians screamed, their cries piercing the cold air as they bolted in all directions. Mothers pulled foals close, stallions shouted frantic warnings, and ponies scrambled to flee the town square. The guards, their resolve shaken but not yet broken, formed a protective line between the fleeing townsfolk and the two towering giants.

“Form up! Don’t let them near the civilians!” barked the crystal mare, her voice straining to remain authoritative despite the quiver of fear. The guards raised their spears, their armor glinting faintly in the moonlight.

Calsin moved first. His power-armored frame surged forward, boots crunching through the snow with a deliberate pace. He didn’t rush—he didn’t need to. His presence alone was enough to sow terror. One guard lunged, spear aimed at his midsection, only for Calsin to swat the weapon aside with a flick of his gauntleted hand. The spear shattered on impact, splinters raining down as the marine brought his other fist down on the hapless guard’s head. The armored pony crumpled instantly, their helmet dented inward as they hit the ground with a sickening thud.

Locari followed, his bolter roaring to life. The explosive rounds tore through another guard’s chest, the detonation sending shards of crystal armor scattering in all directions. The pony toppled, their body lifeless before it hit the snow. The civilians' panicked cries grew louder as they realized the guards’ efforts were futile.

A group of guards tried to encircle Calsin, their spears and swords glinting in the moonlight. “Surround him!” one shouted, rallying their comrades. They charged, weapons raised high.

Calsin turned to face them, his visor glowing ominously. With a fluid motion his Narthecium’s chainblade came to life—its line of teeth the size of a short sword to the ponies—and stepped into their formation. The first guard’s spear thrust glanced off his armor harmlessly. Calsin responded with brutal efficiency, driving the roaring chainblade through the pony’s chest and twisting it before yanking it free. Blood spattered the snow as the guard fell, their comrades hesitating just long enough to seal their fates.

Locari’s bolter barked again, mowing down another guard attempting to flank his brother. The explosive round struck true, obliterating the pony’s torso in a burst of blood and shattered armor. Locari turned his attention to the civilians next.

He aimed at a group of ponies sprinting toward an alley and fired. The bolt detonated at their feet, sending a shower of snow and debris into the air. The fleeing ponies screamed, some stumbling as they scrambled to change direction, but most were silenced seconds after with rounds hitting bodies.

One stallion turned back, shielding a foal behind him. “Go! Run!” he shouted, brandishing a woodcutting axe in trembling hooves. Locari regarded him for a moment, then stepped forward. The stallion swung wildly, the blade of the axe bouncing off Locari’s chest plate with a metallic clang. Locari didn’t even flinch. With a swift motion, he swatted the stallion aside, the sheer force sending him crashing into a nearby wall. He collapsed in a heap, unmoving.

Calsin moved toward the guards still standing, and still trying to fight.

The guards charged again, desperation driving them forward. One managed to land a glancing blow against Calsin’s knee joint, the blade sparking as it struck ceramite. The marine turned to the offending pony and crushed them underfoot, their scream cut short as their body crumpled beneath his weight. The rest met their fate by his chainblade, bisected in a single swipe.

By now, the remaining guards and civilians were in full retreat, the former shouting for order while the latter scattered in every direction. A pair of pegasi took to the skies, their wings beating furiously as they attempted to flee. Locari’s bolter barked once, then again, and both fell like stones, their lifeless bodies crashing into the snow.

Locari turned to the leader, the crystal mare, who stood trembling yet defiant. Blood stained her armor, her spear was raised at his chest. “You won’t… You won’t—”

Locari didn’t give the mare the chance. Another empty casing left her spilling herself on the ground, life ebbing away from her eyes.

Locari strode to Calsin’s side, his bolter smoking, the ruined town around them littered with bodies. The civilians who had escaped were gone, their screams fading into the distance. The guards lay dead or dying.

“Some got away,” Locari said.

“Only the unimportant. Let cold finish them.”

She had crawled to her destroyed front door, her hind legs were useless.

The snow around Meadow was stained red, the air heavy with the stench of blood and smoke. She sat trembling, her hooves clutching the icy ground. Her wide, tear-streaked eyes stared blankly at the devastation before her—the shattered bodies of the guards, the lifeless forms of fleeing civilians, and the eerie quiet that followed.

Locari approached her, his boots crunching loudly through the snow. The towering marine stopped before her, his imposing form casting a long shadow over her trembling figure. His bolter was locked to his thigh. He regarded her for a moment, his red visor lenses glowing faintly in the cold night.

“You know how to reach this Empire of yours?” Locari’s voice was flat, it was enough to make her flinch.

Meadow didn’t speak, her throat tight. Slowly, she nodded, her movement was stiff.

Locari reached down, grabbing her without hesitation. She let out a weak gasp as his massive hand encircled her midsection, lifting her as if she weighed nothing. Her hooves dangled uselessly in the air, her body too drained to resist.

“Show us,” was all Locari said.

Meadow nodded again, her breath shaky. She didn’t dare speak. She stared ahead, her mind blank, her body numb as Locari turned and began walking with her dangling in his hand. The town lay in ruins, its silence broken only by the whimpers of the dying and the crunch of his boots.

Calsin followed, his massive frame moving with deliberate purpose. His gaze remained fixed on the distant mountains and glowing sky above it.

The crystalline walls of the room shimmered faintly in the soft light of the Crystal Empire’s palace. Every part of it exuded warmth and comfort, but now it felt cold and heavy. Princess Cadence stood silently, her eyes fixed on the two massive forms lying on the polished crystal floor. The room, usually reserved for the care of her subjects, had been hastily adapted to house the strange, lifeless beings.

One was recently brought in from the town of Silverton a few hours ago. His armor was battered and torn, the once-pristine plates marred by jagged tears. His weaponry, his weaponry hadn’t come with him, she sent her guards back to see if they could find them, she doubted this one arrived empty handed.

Beside him lay another, discovered along the trail leading to the Empire. His form was no less intimidating, though his damage told a slightly different story. Deep gashes ran along his armor, and portions of it were dented inward as though struck by tremendous force. His helm had been removed, revealing a still, lifeless face—tan, with features that spoke of a hard and terrible life.

Cadence shifted uncomfortably. She had experienced plenty of odd things in her life, but nothing such as is. Aliens were the only explanation she could come up with, but how they arrived here, and why they were dead, she couldn’t answer.

Aliens. The thought was both thrilling and worrying. Equestria had faced many strange and powerful beings in its history, but this… this was different.

Cadence glanced at the recently arrived one. His lack of weaponry troubled her. The previous had such massive and threatening weapons with him. She had sent guards back to Silverton to search for anything that might have been left behind. The idea that someone—or something—had taken such abhorrent tools added another layer of unease.

Her thoughts turned to Twilight. She had wanted to send a letter to her sister-in-law the moment the second one had arrived, but with Luna’s moon already in the sky she didn’t want to disturb her, she was likely asleep by now. Cadence decided she would send the letter as soon as she woke up tomorrow.

A faint creak from the door broke her thoughts. Cadence turned, her weariness giving way to a small smile as she spotted a familiar face peeking through the slightly ajar door.

Flurry Heart.

The young filly’s wide, curious eyes darted toward the massive figures lying on the floor, their forms dimly illuminated by the faint light of the crystal walls.

“Mommy?” Flurry Heart’s small voice whispered. “What are those?”

Cadence’s heart tightened. She moved quickly, turning off the lights with her magic, plunging the room into near darkness. The silhouettes of the giants were all that remained visible, and even those were faint. She stepped toward her daughter, placing herself between Flurry and the unsettling sight.

“Don’t worry about it, sweetie,” Cadence said gently, leaning to her daughter’s level. She placed a hoof on Flurry’s shoulder, her voice soft but firm. “You should be in bed. It’s very late.”

Flurry Heart looked up at her mother, her brow furrowing. “They’re so big… Are they monsters?”

Cadence hesitated, glancing back at the now-darkened room. “No, they’re not monsters,” she said, though the words felt hollow even to herself. “They’re… something I’m trying to understand. But you don’t need to worry about that right now.”

Flurry looked unconvinced, but she nodded. “Okay…”

“Come on,” Cadence said, her smile returning as she guided her daughter away from the room. “Let’s get you back to bed. You need your rest.”

Together, they walked through the quiet halls of the palace, the sound of their hoofsteps soft against the crystal floors. Cadence felt a flicker of relief at the distraction. For now, she could focus on Flurry Heart—on putting her back to bed and, hopefully, easing her own restless mind in the process.

As they reached Flurry’s room, Cadence tucked her in gently, brushing a lock of her daughter’s mane from her face. Flurry yawned, her wings twitching slightly as sleep began to claim her. Cadence kissed her forehead and whispered, “Goodnight, my little star.”

Author's Note

You can probably tell this was supposed to be out sooner. Ah well, what can you do.

Thanks for reading, until next time!