Guiding Light

Guiding Light:

CHAPTER VI -

It Followed Me Home

* * *

The dark, lazy grip of sleep slowly left me, replaced by hunger, thirst, fatigue and pain.

I tried to open my eyes, but all I could see was the dark blackness of the cave. With my eyes of no use, I lowered my eyelids as I tried to flex my legs.

The response was sluggish and painful. My muscles were seized an knotted, and I was sure I had twisted my hoof. Despite my body’s discouragement, I drowsily pushed myself up from off the cold stone I had slept on. It was a great mistake - blood quickly left my head and upper torso, and pooled in my hooves. The resulting nausea and dizziness threw me against the cave wall, and I nearly blacked out again.

Taking a moment to breathe, I was now fully aware of the great pain that erupted inside my skull. The terrible headache was the final clue that I had pushed myself too far over my limits the previous night. I didn’t even want to imagine what I would have been feeling like just then if I had been galloping in the harsh, hot day rather than the cool night.

Too impatient to wait for my eyes to adjust to the dark and too fatigued to use my magic, I carefully ran my hooves along the ground until I found my saddlebags. Removing the only item stored within, I set the candle on the ground and removed the cap. To no surprise, the flame was still lit. The light was sufficient in lighting up the cave, but also wrought havoc on my eyes and head. After rubbing my temples with my eyes half open for a few minute, I looked over to the other prone form in the room - Agile Bolt.

She lay still, relaxed on her side, with her chest slowly rising and falling, without a sound. my eyes travelled along her legs, down to the injured hoof. The bandage I had tied around the gash had turned a deep rusty-red, soaked with dried blood throughout. It was obvious that I needed to change the gauze.

Picking up and unsheathing Bolt’s dagger, I carefully cut the blood-soaked bandage, tossing it aside. I examined Bolt’s hoof; the bleeding had stopped, but the gash was still quite deep and infection was a probable possibility. I put the dagger back in its sheath and propped the injured hoof up on a rock. Forgetting that I had left the roll of gauze on the cave floor, I grabbed the pegasus’ satchel and started rummaging around in it. Not finding what I was looking for, I was about to set the satchel back down, but my hoof touched something strange, something familiar.

Removing the foreign object, I could see in the dim orange glow of the candle that it was some sort of small stone chunk, bearing strange markings on one side.

The runes were intriguing. Of course, I couldn’t read them, but there was just some sort of familiarity about them. It was beyond familiarity... I couldn’t look away from them, I sat there, with a small stone in my hooves, unable to break eye contact. My mind started to go numb. My thinking process nearly slowed to a halt, and my eyes were looking straight through the stone. I started to shiver, as if the temperature in the cave was freezing. The nerves in my mind were coming out of their numbness, to roar up and send ripples of intense pain through my head. The shaking intensified, and my hooves lost their grip, and the stone clattered to the floor.

The shaking immediately stopped, and the pain ceased. I backed away from the stone, laying on the floor, and rubbed my temples again. I looked up and saw Bolt staring at me like I had gone mad.

"That's no ordinary stone," she said, shifting herself so that she could pick up the shard.

"Oh, you don't say?" I sarcastically retorted, still rubbing my temples, until I realized that my head was fine and devoid of any pain. I lowered my hooves.

Bolt looked at me quizzically. "What's wrong?" she asked, genuinely perplexed.

"What's wrong?! That thing nearly sizzled my brain! What the hell is it, and why are you carrying it?"

Now Bolt looked even more confused than she did before. "It... caused you pain? What were you doing to it?"

I scoffed. "Oh, for the love of... I was just looking at it!"

Bolt arched an eyebrow. She turned over the shard so that the runed were facing up, and proceeded to stare at it just as I had done. She sat there staring at it for one minute, not shaking, not crying out, nothing. Eventually, she looked up, the confused look still plastered to her face.

"I don't get it," she said.

I sighed. "Never mind. What is it exactly?"

"It's a shard of the walls of the Chamber of Perception. Those glyphs are the same glyphs Lore has been trying to decipher for years."

I thought for a moment. Elusive had told me about some chamber with strange glyphs in it. That must've been the Chamber of Perception.

"A pony back at the camp was talking about that Chamber. What exactly is it?"

"Apparently Lore and his two companions found it when they first travelled here. Lore somehow gained some sort of knowledge from the chamber and craved more. He started to bring ponies into the chamber - apparently if they 'stole' knowledge from the chamber then it would steal some back. Then something went wrong, and the chamber lashed out at Lore, cursing him. However, Lore used that curse to his advantage, and created the Barrier.

"His friend, Candlelight had told him that there were 'markers' of some kind, hidden somewhere in the area. After Candlelight turned on Lore, Lore became convinced that those markers were in some sort of cave complex below the desert, hence the mining camps.

"Candlelight went on to lead the rebellion - he told us all about Lore and what was really happening. I wasn't sure what to make of him. I thought he was crazy. He was so convinced about the Markers... I think they were all a lie, fabricated to throw off Lore. I couldn't believe it when he went to go confront Lore... When the others returned without him, they said that he'd been killed. I didn't believe that either - that is, until Lore announced it the next day."

She fell silent for a few minutes. I snapped her out of it.

"So... Where do I fit in in all of this? What makes me special?"

Bolt's expression shifted to one of annoyance. "I've already told you - I don't know. When we get to the Hollow, then you can talk to Rook. He'll fill you in."

She looked at the Shard again. "I was actually supposed to give this to you after I had handed you over to those rebels we were supposed to meet." She extended the stone chunk towards me. "Here, take it."

I threw up my hooves. "Nuh-uh. I'm not falling for that again. Keep it."

Bolt frowned, frustrated. "I have strict orders saying you are to keep the stone. You're going to have to take it at one point or another. Besides, it's just a stone. Don't be a foal."

I bit my lip and eyed the Shard. "Fine," I said, picking it up off the floor. "Now watch. Just snap me out of it when I start shaking."

I swallowed, and stared at the glyphs. Not blinking, I held the stone the same way I had before, and made sure I was attempting to read the runes. After about a minute, I tore my gaze away, and turned the Shard over in my hooves.

“I don’t get it either...” I said.

“You see? Completely harmless. It was probably just stress.”

“Yeah, whatever.” I stowed the stone in my saddlebag.

“Would you mind?” Bolt piped in, pointing to her injured hoof.

“Oh, right,” I said, picking up the pegasus’ satchel and digging around for the gauze.

Bolt sighed and cleared her throat. I looked up. She was pointing her hoof at the ground nearby, the roll of gauze laying there, collecting dust.

I knocked myself in the head and retrieved the gauze. Shaking off the dirt and dust, I stretched out an adequate length and levitated Bolt’s dagger over to cut the section.

I lifted Bolt’s hoof and inspected the deep gash. It was reddened and raw - not infected yet, but would be soon without proper care.

I removed the bottle of disinfectant as well as the two rags I had used the last time I had tied her bandage. Giving her the appropriate rag to bite down on, I applied more of the disinfectant to the other and gently cleaned the wound once again. Bolt was able to choke down the pain better this time. Barely a whimper escaped through the cloth. She wiped away unshed tears as I tied the fresh bandage in place.

Midnight Spectre approached the Northern Gate. The guards stationed there parted, unlatched the heavy metal locks, and swung the doors open.

Spectre checked his gear - dagger, three canteens, one week worth of nutrition, first aid kit. It was all he needed to track down Agile Bolt, kill her, and return home.

His father was a double crosser and a liar. Again, he had promised time after time to reveal his greatest secret to his son - the answer to a question that had haunted Spectre for most of his life.

He had made clear that this was the absolute last time he would do anything for his father. If Lore did not reveal what Spectre wished to know, he was prepared to take it by force this time.

Passing the guards without so much as an acknowledging glance, Spectre walked out beyond the gates and stood on the rocky ground of the Badlands desert. It was early morning - the sky was a dark grey, and the air was fresh, but dry. Spectre inhaled deeply, as if searching for the scent of his prey.

Agile Bolt’s run-in with the guards had occurred inside a mesa to the north-west. That’s where he would start. From there, he could gain enough information to find out where they had come from and where they were going.

He was alone now, silently treading into the dark desert, with only his thoughts as company. His mind swirled with ideas of vengeance and justice.

My father will reveal it to me, he thought. And I shall do everything in my power to make sure of that.

Stretching herself out, Bolt got up onto her hooves. She had some trouble putting pressure on her injured leg, but was able to manage. We gathered our supplies and slung our packs. Moving out of the cave, we only exited to be blinded by the intensity of the sun.

Bolt took the opportunity to look at her map and determine a direction to the Hollow. Once our eyes had adjusted, Bolt took the lead and limped her way down the mountain. I followed after her. The harsh, bright sun was hell on the eyes, not to mention the temperatures it caused. The Badlands desert was dangerous to traverse both at night and in the day.

After walking for a while, I couldn’t help but hear Bolt’s soft grunts and whimpers of pain when she put pressure on her injured hoof. I thought I should’ve pointed out the obvious.

“Hey Bolt? Those wings you have. You should use them, y’know? You don’t have to walk.”

Her gaze lowered slightly and her tone changed.

“I wish I could,” she said, “but I’ll never be able to use them to fly again. When I was first brought to the camps, my wings were fitted into the restraining bracer improperly. Dislocated my wings. When I was freed, I was tended to and my wings were fitted back into their sockets, at the expense that they were no more use than a pair of movable twigs.”

My own voice lowered to a near whisper.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

“It’s alright. They’re not completely useless. They’re still pretty strong, and can thwack somepony quite hard. Good for kicking up dust, too.”

I grunted. She had put them to good use in our escape from the camp.

“So, where are we now?”

“We’re a bit east of Mason’s Mesa. We’re heading back around it and south to the Hollow. We should be there in about an hour,” said Bolt.

They were here, Spectre realized, nosing his way around the cave.

There were faint hoofprints leading up the mountain, coming all the way from the mesa where Bolt had encountered the guards.

Inside the cave was all the evidence he needed. There was a bloody bandage lying on the ground, and small droplets of dried blood staining some of the ground. Rocks had been overturned and moved around, and the dirt in the cave had been disturbed.

Needing no other proof, Spectre exited the cave. It was late morning now, the sun was higher in the sky. The journey to the mesa had taken him a few hours.

The most intriguing factor in his whole pursuit of Agile Bolt was the pony she had broken out of a labour camp - evident from the second set of tracks. Who was this pony? Why had she taken him along with her, but left the others to fend for themselves?

He snuffed out his questions before they took root. This other pony was of no concern to him. he was to track down Bolt and possibly eliminate her.

Spectre followed the tracks leading back down the mountain and back towards the mesa. From there, they turned south and Spectre recognized that they were heading in the direction of the not-so-secret rebel stronghold.

If that’s where they’re heading, then I’ll have to be more careful to not be recognized.

Spectre looked down at the tracks, making sure that they were actually heading in the direction of the Hollow. Satisfied, he picked up his pace and moved ever closer to the mountain that housed the resistance - a resistance that could easily be crushed.

The rest of the journey went on much of the same way, with Bolt telling the history of Blackhoof and answering my occasional question. Bolt had a single canteen of water, and we shared it sparingly.

However, Bolt fell silent after a while, and slowed down considerably. I looked back, and saw her knees wobble whenever she took a step. The injury was getting to her. She was clammy and pale.

“Hold up, Bolt. Stop and rest for a while. You’re gonna be sick.”

“No!” Bolt exclaimed, her voice strained. “No stopping! We’re... almost th-there...”

I sighed, and held the mare’s shoulders so she couldn’t move. With a considerable amount of strength and magic from my horn, I managed to hoist Bolt up and drape her across my back.

“Oh, for cel-Celestia’s sake!” she said, “I’m fine! Let me d-down!”

“Bolt, relax. There’s no point in hurting yourself further. Look, we’re almost there - I can see the cleft in the mountain.”

She let out a frustrated grumble and finally submitted. She collapsed across my back and slumped there like some huge saddlebag.

Skirting around the base of the mountain that housed the Hollow, I came upon the side that had a sort of canyon running down the middle. Proceeding through the canyon, all fell silent as the harsh winds howled overhead.

I approached a seemingly dead end, and was about to call out when I heard the humming of magic, accompanied by a deep, firm voice.

“Halt! Who goes there?”

I looked up and to the right, to glimpse at a dark yellow unicorn, wearing some sort of fabric armor, perched atop the high canyon wall and pointing a drawn bow at me.

“Steel Tempest and Agile Bolt,” I replied.

“I know of Agile Bolt, but never of yourself. Who are you?”

“My name is Steel Tempest - I think. Bolt was sent to break me out of one of the labour camps and escort me to a contact.”

“And where is the contact?”

“Dead. Ambushed by Blackhoof Guards.”

The rebel paused. “How can I be sure you’re one of us?”

Bolt, still on my back, sputtered and coughed. “He’s our Guest,” she rasped.

The rebel seemed stunned. “That Guest... huh... Wait - Bolt! What happened to you?’

“Gah! Just get us inside!” she hissed.

The rebel nodded and gave a short, sharp whistle. I looked back at what was a dead end, now revealed to be a secret passage, as stones turned aside and opened to a corridor, stretching deep into the mountain. Bolt slipped off my back, and we walked inside, the stones turning back to conceal the Hollow again.

It was dark in the hallway, and I lit up my horn. Standing some distance away was a dull orange earth pony with a dusty-orange mane, approaching us with a candle held between his teeth.

Bolt half-smiled and darted up to the earth pony, nearly collapsing on him. He spared a single glance my way before turning back to Bolt.

“We’d better get you some first-aid,” he said. Two other rebels who were behind the earth pony took Bolt and escorted her further down the hallway. The earth pony and I were left standing, facing each other in the hallway.

He held out his hoof for shaking. I took it.

“Name’s Rook,” he said. “You two have been through a lot.”

I scoffed. If this was the pony that most likely knew who I was, then I wanted to get straight to business. “So apparently you know who I really am?”

He gave me quizzical look - I didn’t like that. “Steel Tempest, right? I sent Bolt to go fetch you.”

I was a bit angry at that point. “A week ago I woke up with amnesia. I didn’t know who I was or where I lived and I still don’t know. All the signs I’ve followed have pointed to Blackhoof, which was obviously the right direction. Now Bolt tells me that you need to speak to me specifically, out of the hundreds of slaves that are trapped here. I can’t help but wonder why. So, tell me, do you know who I am, or not?”

Rook mulled that over for a few seconds, before gesturing at the dark hallway. “Come. Walk with me,” he said. I followed, steaming inside. He turned, and I clearly saw the image of an ornate chess piece on his flank.

“I’m terribly sorry, but I don’t know who you are or what’s happened to you. However, the reason that I don’t know is the reason Bolt doesn’t know. Bolt was ordered to bring you here. But I was ordered to send Bolt to bring you here, by our pony on the inside, Solace. If anybody knows you, he should.”

That statement sparked a small memory, of a certain pony at the Blackhoof train station.

“What does ‘Solace’ look like?”

Rook raised an eyebrow. “He’s an older unicorn. Orange coat, grey mane. Funny glasses.”

“I’ll be damned...”

“What do you mean?”

“I saw him in the train station some days ago. He spoke to me, told me to ‘listen to the voice of knowledge.’”

Rook tutted. “There’s our connection.”

“What connection?”

“Solace also gave me the Shard that Bolt gave you. He instructed me to have it make it’s way to you, as well as free you from your oppression. ‘Voice of Knowledge’ is obviously some sort of reference to the Chamber of Perception, where the shard was from. Because Solace recognized you, you obviously have some sort of connection to it that will help our cause. Now it’s just a matter of getting Solace here undetected to meet with you.”

I turned over this new information in my head. It had to have been connected to the amnesia as well, no doubt about it. “I see. When will I meet with Solace?”

“We’ll get him here as soon as we can. Solace is Iniquitous Lore’s Master Engineer, so he can’t just abandon his duties at any time. The trust Lore puts into him makes him a great ally, though. He’s our informant.”

“Where do I go now?”

“I’ll take you around the Hollow. Get a meal in you, patch up whatever injuries or cure whatever ailments you have, get you a bunk, the works. We even have an armory and a library, if you’re interested in anything.”

I was interested. I’d check out both later on. A proper meal was the only thing on my mind right then and there. That, and a shower.

“But, before any of that, I’m just going to bring you to the briefing room. Our leader, Hazy Sunrise, wants to see you.”

Calling magic to his horn, Spectre surveyed his surroundings.

He was at the entrance to the crevice, and he could feel, through his life detection spell, the two hidden rebel guards on the cliffs. Easy enough.

He prepared a spell - he was sure he’d need it.

Spectre walked down through the canyon, and sure enough, one of the guards revealed himself, while the other silently watched.

“Halt! Identify yourself!” said the guards, holding up a bow with an arrow pulled back.

“Sterling Valor,” Spectre said, using one of his aliases, “Reporting in from reconnaissance.”

“Valor? Never heard of that-”

Spectre fired off two spells, one hitting each guard.

“...Uh, ahem... er... ne- never heard of... um. Just, uh, just- just go on... inside...” blustered the rebel. The doors swung open. His confusion spell had worked perfectly.

He was in, and he kept to the shadows.

We passed through tunnel after tunnel. The Hollow felt endless. The darkness soon vanished, as candles appeared on the walls, and other ponies roamed the halls. We passed the kitchen, wafting delicious smells into my nostrils and seducing me with thoughts of royal food. We passed the steaming showers and the quiet, peaceful library, eventually ending up in the barracks. At the very end of the hallway was a single stone door, opened, but flanked by two rebel guards. Passing through the threshold and passing the unblinking guards, we entered a small room with several ponies seated around a polished stone table. A yellow pegasus mare looked up from her conversations and gave me a once-over, unsmiling.

She turned to Rook. “Have you checked his belongings?”

“Not yet. He’s our guest, so I-”

“You know our rules, Rook. Check them.”

As Rook wordlessly nodded and started to remove my saddlebags, I looked over the other ponies in the room. They were an assortment of unicorns, earth ponies, and pegasi, all looking well-groomed and very clean. They lacked the fabric armor that many of the other rebels in the Hollow wore. These ponies, I assumed, were the leaders. Cocking my head slightly, I noticed the yellow pegasus’ cutie mark was that of the sun rising over a hill. I assumed this was Hazy Sunrise, the commander of the resistance. I met her gaze. Her eyes stabbed right into me, her expression cold, emotionless. This was a pony who had seen everything and saw the world she knew as a disgrace.

Rook, after finally removing my saddlebags, undid the clasps and dumped the contents of my bags on the stone table.

Some of the ponies narrowed their eyes and others took in deep breaths as my candle and the Shard clattered against the granite. I looked up. Sunrise was wide-eyed. She reached across the table to pick up one of the items. I was about to open my mouth to warn her about the potential danger of the Shard, but to my surprise, she grabbed the candle instead.

Slowly bringing the candle back toward her, she carefully turned it in her hooves, examining it from every angle. Finally, she looked under the disc of the holder, drew in a sharp gasp, and whispered something I could just barely hear.

“Murder and Obliteration are the Opposite of Salvation...”

Sunrise blinked a few times before shaking her head and setting the candle down. She looked up at me, her expression twisted into one or confusion and wonder.

“Who are you?” she asked.

“My name, as far as I know, is Steel Tempest. I woke up in Ponyville about a week ago. I had amnesia - I didn’t know who I was, where I was, or what I was supposed to do. Through some investigation, I came here, as any other information I gathered was contradicting and misleading. I was approached by a strange, unfamiliar pony - who I now know is named ‘Solace’ - before being brought to a labour camp. Solace told Rook to send Agile Bolt to find me and bring me here to meet with Solace. That’s what I intend to do. I want answers.”

“So do I,” Sunrise said. “Tell me, do you know who Candlelight is?”

“Was he not your past leader?”

“That he was. He died a few years back. Now, pray tell, why do you have his candle?”

Frankly, I was shocked. How could I have been connected? Could I have actually been- No, that’s absurd. He’s dead.

“I-I didn’t know it was his. I just found it in the house I woke up in...”

The other ponies collaborated in hushed whispers before being silenced by Sunrise.

“Rook, please bring Tempest back to his bunk and make sure he is fed. We will wait until Solace arrives.”

Rook nodded and I slung my saddlebags on my back.

“Take the Shard,” Sunrise said, motioning towards the small rock. “It’s yours. Solace will need it to reveal to you whatever revelations he holds. The candle, however, stays here.”

I nodded. “I understand.”

“And Rook?” Sunrise piped up.

“Yes?”

“Make sure we are not disturbed. The Council is now in session.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Rook said, before escorting me out the door we had come through, the guards pushing the heavy slabs closed.

We travelled the length of the barracks in silence. Rook showed me to the showers and waited patiently outside as I washed away the filth and sweat of four days’ enduring challenges. Satisfied that I was as clean as possible, I towelled myself off, picked up my belongings and was back at Rook’s side.

I was then brought to the infirmary, where I was pored over and checked in every single spot on my body. After applying a couple small bandages for some minor injuries, the nurses tightly wrapped a fabric cast around my twisted hoof and sternly advised me not to work it too much. The nurses left to tend to other ponies, and Rook led me elsewhere through the Hollow.

As we walked back towards the cafeteria, my mouth started to water. I hadn’t had a proper meal in days. The aromas of various fruits, vegetables and baked goods filled my nostrils and invited me openly.

Rook stopped me before the door.

“I think you can manage on your own from now on? You know your way back to your bunk? Good. If you have any questions, just ask Bolt - she’s inside. Just sit down and they’ll serve you. I’ll see you later, when Solace arrives.”

“See you later,” I said. Rook turned and went back towards the armory.

I passed through the wood doors into a brightly lit room, ringed by stone tables and chairs, with plenty of armor-clad rebels happily chomping down on food and laughing and conversing with others. I spotted Bolt at a table nearby. She looked up and waved me over. I sat down next to her and she put down her sandwich.

“Hey there. You’re looking a lot better now.” She playfully punched me in the shoulder.

“You just need to get some food in you. I can hear your stomach growling.”

I scoffed. “You don’t look so bad yourself. How’s the hoof?”

She lifted her injured hoof up for me to see, a clean bandage wrapped properly around it.

“The nurses stitched it up pretty well. It wasn’t infected at all. Thanks for that.”

“Hey, no problem. You would’ve done it yourself anyway.”

One of the server ponies placed a bowl of soup in front of me, along with a sizable piece of bread.

“Thanks,” I said. She nodded and walked away.

“Pfft, doesn’t matter,” Bolt said. “You just did it for me, and that counts in my book. I owe you one. Now, eat up. You look like you haven't had a meal in days," she said, poking me in the ribs.

I really hadn’t eaten in days - eaten real food, at least.

Letting the soup cool, I picked up the bread and had devoured it in seconds. Some of the rebels gave annoyed or displeased glances in my direction as I hogged it down. Finishing the loaf, I levitated my spoon and took a sip of the soup.

It was a warm and hearty broth of potatoes, carrots and diced tomatoes. I felt like I never tasted better food - other than the muffin from Sugarcube Corner. My mouth watered even more than it already was at that particular memory. I quickly snapped back to reality, and pushed the thought aside, so that I could finish the soup.

Bolt and I had downed our meals quickly, leaving not a scrap of food in either of our plates. We put the paper dishes in the trash bin and I brought the bowl back up to the sink.

Bolt tugged at my shoulder, leading me out of the cafeteria. We quickly made our way down to the armory.

The armory was a large room, containing mock-up ponies, holding dulled swords, and targets for the bow-carrying rebels. At the far end was a room containing bows, arrows, swords, daggers, and other weapons. A crate held an assortment of armor, mostly the fabric armor that many of the rebels wore. Every set of armor was painted dark grey with a red stripe, and all of the bladed weapons had strange notches and crenellations on them.

I pointed to one such sword. “Why are they notched like this?” I asked Bolt. She looked over.

“It’s meant to snap other blades in half,” she said, lifting the sword out if’s wall-mount. “We normally avoid killing the soldiers. They’re just brainwashed, and many of our scientists say it’s reversible. When this is all over, we should be able to turn them back, but for now, we have to make do with blade-snappers and magical spells.”

She grabbed a thin strip of metal, and we walked back over to the mannequins. She placed the strip of metal in the ‘hoof’ of the mannequin, making it look like it was wielding a sword.

“Watch - this is the material Lore makes his soldiers’ swords from. It’s lightweight and strong, but it’s brittle and can snap when the wrong kind of pressure is applied.”

After swinging her sword and parrying the nonmoving ‘sword’ a few times, she swung herself around, catching the middle of the strip of metal in the notch of her own sword, and twisted her hooves as she continued moving to put immense pressure on the blade. In one smooth motion, Bolt finished her 180-degree turn, and the metal snapped, clattering uselessly to the stone floor.

“Bows are a different story. Our arrows are enchanted so that they can phase through other ponies without causing harm. However, we tip our arrows with a toxin that causes temporary paralysis.”

“I see,” I said. I walked back to the weapons locker, rummaging through the crate of armor, trying to find a set that I might like. I pulled out a dark breastplate of a dark grey metal. It had a faded and chipped red stripe painted on it. I slipped it on, and it fit snugly.

Bolt looked me over, smiling a bit. “Suits you,” she said. “You can take that back to your bunk, if you like. Same goes with any weapon here.”

I took off the armor and looked around. I didn’t really like the bladed weapons - they felt awkward in my hooves - even Bolt’s dagger - and holding them with magic was hard to get used to.

“Thanks, but I’ll skip the swords. Too strange a thing for me to learn.”

“Aha, I see. Most unicorns are spellcasters, anyway. They specialize in combat magic. Earth ponies mostly use swords, and pegasi are archers. You interested in learning some combat spells? Never know when our next battle might be.”

Learning new spells was a satisfying use of my time. I hadn’t learned any combat magic, so it was an opportunity I wouldn’t have passed up. I nodded, and Bolt steered me along to the library. She immediately whipped out several tomes from off the shelves.

I scanned over the contents of each, reading over the spells that I took interested in. From that single session, I had learned spells like paralysis, shock, and even how to cast blinding flares and how to teleport. There was one spell that I wouldn’t have expected to be in a combat magic spellbook - telekinesis.

Unicorns used telekinesis all the time - it was nearly an essential part of their everyday lives for picking up objects instead of using their hooves.

However, the book described telekinesis with a completely different use; pushing ponies away, flinging them short distances, pinning them to surfaces, and even stopping projectiles. Sadly, the book lacked the detail to show how such spells could be properly performed - once a unicorn learns a spell in a certain way, it’s difficult for them to re-learn it in a completely different way.

Closing all the books I had opened, I replaced them where Bolt had taken them from, and decided it was time for some rest. I was exhausted, full of good food, and a good night’s sleep was all I needed to bring me to a healthy state the next day.

Staying in the dark, shadowy alcoves of the lesser tunnels of the Hollow, and keeping his head low and Cutie Mark concealed when other ponies passed, Midnight Spectre remained unrecognized. That is - until he bumped into somepony he actually knew.

Trying to pass who he thought was just another rebel, Spectre was surprised when the pony turned and called out to him.

“So, Spectre, how long have you been here, huh? Not very long to not recognize an old pal.”

Spectre thought her recognized that voice. It was only when he turned and took a good look at the dark brown pegasus pony’s grizzly face did he discover who it actually was.

Daring Venture, his normal reddish coat dyed dark brown and his burgundy mane dyed a sand-yellow, stood opposite Spectre, wearing his usual self-satisfied grin.

“You’re undercover?” Spectre asked, keeping his voice low.

“Yeah, I got back from that external mission, and Lore put me here after I had come back. Damn good cover too, this dye’s hard to get off. Anyway, told me to spy on them and return when something major happened. And I think that’s happening right now. A rebel has arrived with another that may have some connection to the Chamber.”

Spectre knew exactly who he was talking about. “You’re going to report to him? Now?”

“No, no, in two years when this all blows over. Of course I’m going now. Some pretty important stuff, wouldn’t you say?”

“Yeah...” mumbled Spectre. He was a mess. If Venture knew more about Bolt and her accomplice more than he did, and reported it first, Lore might recall him and keep the information he owed to himself again. Spectre wasn’t going to let that happen.

“What’s wrong, Spec? Something the matter?”

“Yeah... yeah. Here, come take a look at this,” Spectre said, darting into a dead end.

Venture ran after him, pushing ahead, further into the cave that led nowhere.

“What is it? I don’t see anything.”

Spectre took two of his canteens and half of his food and tossed them to Venture.

“Hold those for a second,” he said.

“What? I don’t get-”

Spectre unleashed a torrent of destructive spells upon the roof of the cave, bringing down chunks of stone between himself and Venture.

When there was no cry of help or shouts of anger, Spectre cast a quick life detection spell to confirm that Venture was just unconscious, but alive. Satisfied, Spectre was about to leave when two rebels came running.

“What happened here?” one of them panickedly asked.

“Cave collapsed,” Spectre said, pointing his hoof at the rubble.

The other pony rushed over to try to pry apart the rubble. The first pony chimed up.

“Nevermind it, there’s nothing back there anyway.”

The second pony nodded, turned to Spectre and said, “Alright, just be careful.” Spectre nodded as they left.

Now that Venture was out of the picture, it was time to report his findings of Bolt’s accomplice’s connection to the Chamber to his father.

Bolt had returned to her bunk, and I had done likewise. I dropped off my saddlebags and breastplate, but pressed my ear up against the stone wall next to my bed. My bunk was right next to the briefing room. I heard most of what they were saying, most likely talking about me.

“He’s... engineer, or even... Lore had him removed from the equation because...  and... coincidence.. way back...”

“Highly improbable... medical, look at how he... bandage... lacks qualities... engineer...same coincidence of his finding his way back, but...”

“...Cutie mark, labour... slaving away...”

“What are you saying? He couldn’t have possibly... cutie mark at that old an age... unlikely... foal, the town isn’t even that old, the... don’t match...

“An incarnation... -light! Could he... ghost...”

“Or even better, Candlelight himself?”

“No... possible.”

“Why? He could... have been...”

“I saw... die.”

“You were trauma... concussed...”

“No! I saw him killed! He...” - I recognized that voice as Hazy Sunrise’s.

“Take it easy.. just suggesting... not have... killed...”

“I SAW HIM DIE RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME! STABBED THROUGH BY LORE!”

All had fallen silent. I heard hurried hoofsteps in the hallway outside. Somepony burst through the briefing room doors. I pressed my ear back against the wall.

“...were told not to interrupt!”

“Forgive... but Lore... enacted... quarantine on Blackhoof. All residents... monitored...”

Had I heard that right? Lore had enacted a quarantine on Blackhoof, and all residents were monitored?

I nearly beat my hoof against the wall. That meant Solace wouldn’t be able to meet at the Hollow, for who knew how long. It was just setback after setback.

I lay down in my bed, which was far more comfortable than the ones in the labour camp, and tried to calm my mind. I still didn’t have my candle back, so I wasn’t easily comforted. I tossed, falling into a fit of unrest, before succumbing to the night, and passing out once again.