[b]In Nómine

An Equestria Divided RPG

Prologue

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“आम सहमति के पर पहुंच गया कर दिया गया है.”

“हम एक समझौते पर पहुँच गए हैं.”

“हम वापसी करेंगे.”

“…..”

For a moment, there was nothing.

“खुला.”

There was a tremble in the air as the word left his lips. The nature of the world around him buckled under its weight, but stood fast, protesting the sudden change.
Within the three realms, from the Astral to Tartarus, there had been laws set down by Faust herself that all were compelled to obey. And every creature, no matter how large or small obeyed these laws. But this law… this would obey him.

“खुला!” he commanded again.

His voice carried long and far and shattered the stillness. All shook with a violent spasm as a black and pulsating hole was torn in the planar boundary of reality.

He watched, serving as their gatekeeper, as they stepped through, one by one. Some were eager, others afraid, but all were determined. His brethren all had their different purposes for coming, but they had come together for this. He could not fault them. He was among their number. He kept his sentinel watch and held the door until the last set of hooves vanished into the rift.

And then he followed.

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“… एक बार पृथ्वी पर फिरते …”

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Falling.

Arcon was falling.

He did not know when he realized this. It may have been a second since he stepped into the rift, it may have been an eon. But when he opened his eyes he realized he was falling from an impossible height. The world below was a smear of colors spinning in every direction as he tumbled through empty air.

He was aware of so many new things. A million, a billion heartbeats thrummed in sync beneath him. All the three realms were in his gaze. The leylines, coursing rivers of golden light, stretched across the firmament of the globe like a spider’s web. He knew all.

He was all.

He looked down at himself.

His mind nearly shattered.

A trick of the light, an abstract thing of unbelievable angles. His mind burned with fire and he screamed in terror and exultation. He turned away, focusing on the ground below, but he could still see it, in his mind. It had burned its way through. He was terrified of himself, he realized. He was an idea, or the hint of an idea, or the memory of something he had never known, or the shadow of all these things, their inverted reflection, on a still lake at night.

He couldn't be real, Arcon thought. His mind struggled to put all into words, to understand what had been so clear to him before. How could he have been real before this? It... he had had no substance. No weight. He had had mass, Arcon remembered, his embrace stretching impossibly wide, but behind the mass there had been no depth. It made no sense. How could he be real and make no sense?

He tried to look at himself again, at his body of fractured proportions and broken reason, but it was long gone. Replaced instead were sandy fur and plumage, and the hot flesh and blood that coursed beneath that was all too real.

He was impossibility made manifest, the formless given form, and he fell though the sky in fire, accompanied not by the roar of the very air set aflame, but the last whispers of a song’s echo.

“…चेहरा…”

It is only when Arcon breached the atmosphere that he realized how quickly he was moving. The wind buffeted his wings so violently he feared they would be torn from his body. It was like stepping from a calm shelter into a maelstrom of shrieking wind. He was tugged violently into the current, the force pulling, pushing and tossing him in every direction as unseen forces battered his body.

For a moment, the pain was swept from his mind while he tried to process all the things he could see. Lush, green forests. Windswept deserts. Towering mountains capped with ice and snow. The blue trails of rivers, winding their way to lakes and seas.

Equestria.

His lungs took great heaving breaths, the first of many as plummeted to the landscape alone. He pumped his wings, desperately trying to gain purchase as gravity reeled him closer and closer to the ground below.

He sped over a bustling metropolis, than a magnificent castle built into the side of a mountain, then finally a small village at the edge of a forest, and vast deserts. A long stretch of brown and jagged peaks stretched into the distance.

He was directly over the jagged mountains when their peaks rose up to meet him. There was an overwhelming burst of pain, a great explosion of heat and sound, and Arcon was aware he was yet again falling. A body newly born shattered the mountainside, and with it, every bone in his body. Rocks clipped at his skin and face as he tumbled into the free-fall abyss down its slope.

If he crashed again this time, he knew he would die, or even worse, lose precious time trying to heal himself. Time he could not afford to waste on such trivialities.

His horn, a brilliant cone of power shone briefly and dozens of chains, thick and dark, came unbidden from the air around and bolted themselves into the rock face. More wrapped around his limbs and midsection and abruptly halted his descent. The alicorn’s body jarred at the sudden snapping and his restraints dug into his skin.

It was enough. He dangled viciously above the mountainside, held aloft by the chains. His momentum still carried and almost threatened to still smack him against the rock. The chains receded, further anchoring him in place. At last, the violent swinging receded into a gentle rocking and Arcon gave a sigh of relief.

Relief.

A curious thing, given his current situation. So many new sensations. He looked at himself once more. Shards of rock had embedded into the barrel of his chest and midsection, and small rivers of golden ichor snaked down his face.

“How tedious,” Arcon scolded himself. He had yet to so much as touch the surface, and has already met a delay.

With a mental command, the chains evaporated into wisps of black smoke and dropped the god onto a rocky outcropping. He rose to his slender legs, and the harsh wind whipped through his black mane.

His body had already begun to heal him, forcing out the foreign detritus and congealing fresh skin. Growth of feathers and skin pushed forward, freed from the layer of newly formed epidermis. Arcon stretched his great sandy wings and stretched, marveling at the acute ache that remained deep within the joints. This was most certainly something that would take some getting used too.

Arcon stared out beyond the barren wastes. In the far off distance, pinpricks of light shot across the sky and others joined this world.

Across Equestria, ponies stopped and looked to the sky in amazement. The tiny lights had become a fireballs, trailing smoke and dust as they sped silently overhead.
None saw the signs. None knew of their return. But all would know their wonder in due time.

The following concussions were tremendous; a series of deafening booms cracked the sky as onlookers fell to the ground, hooves pressed to their bleeding ears. Flashes of light exploded in the distance as each of his brethren fell, one by one.

Arcon stood and looked at the land before him.

Nothing lived here. Nothing grew. The land was barren. The rocky solid was nothing more than a thin layer of ash and dust. A sea of desolation that stretched as far as the ring of mountains to the Northwest. Dust storms churned in the distance, a snarl of movement in the otherwise empty horizon. The alien landscape was all the more ominous under the red haze that drifted through the foul air.

Arcon smiled and sat down on his mountain.

Yes.

This would do nicely.

There was a time when the world itself sung all three verses. A time when the song reverberated throughout the lands itself, when the wind whistled the tune while blowing through the trees of the forest. A time when the mountains moaned the lyrics, the falling boulders rumbling the chorus as loud as they could.

Once, the birds sang and flew around, hunted down by the eagles and falcons. The mouse scurried away under the foliage only to be caught by the watchful owl.

That time is no more. The world has fallen into chaos without the guiding hoof of chaos incarnate. It was a mindless slaughter. Ponies, gryphons and changelings alike murdered each other left and right without rhyme and reason. They fight because the sisters of the Second Verse have gone elsewhere.

Do they not see that they still live? The Sun and the Moon are still in effect, night and day as well as the seasons are still in effect; the world is still turning and yet they dispute, claiming that they are gone or worse. They’re short sighted and blind. If Celestia and Luna were truly gone, then the world would be less, if at all.

Where they are, not one of us know. But the Children of the Third Verse know that they live and thrive somewhere. The problem is that they do not know where that is.

To stop this meaningless slaughter where nothing good comes out of it, to find the missing sisters and to let the ponies know and believe in us again is why we now descend onto the mortal plane. Or, most.

Several stars streaked across the sky, the heavens themselves throwing the burning projectiles across its black canvas with the stroke of a brush. They burn across the sky, leaving a trail of both magic and fire in their wake.

Little do the onlooking mortals know that what they witness is not the burning of meteorites or stars falling. The stars they saw were the gods of the third verse descending upon the mortal plane for whatever reason they saw fit. Some wanted to rule, some wanted to mend, others wanted to build. Each and every one of them had a goal of their own,

One such star streaked across a vast forest, the velocity of the star causing the leaves of the trees to rustle and whistle a short tune of the third verse.

As the goddess within the falling star neared the ground, the wishes that was aimed at the falling star came. She heard them all, but could neither answer nor grant any. She heard wishes of health, of wealth and victory. There were those who wished for the death of their enemies, those who wished for miracles to have their loved ones back to full health as they lay on their deathbed.

And then there were the wishes that the goddess regretted the most that she could not grant; the wishes so pure that it tore her to not be able to answer them. Those that wished for the chance to have children were the ones that caught her interest the most, the ones that she wanted to grant. While her domains were not of those, it was still ones she treasured and saw as pure enough to grant had she been able to.

The trees of the forest disappeared and was instead replaced with large fields of grass and rolling hills, a village appearing in the horizon. The goddess within tried to angle herself so that she would land near it, but not directly on top of it. While the death of mortals did not particularly bother her, the idea of killing anything other than her prey did. There was no reason to their deaths, no way with which their death would serve to help others. It would only cause misery.

Seconds became minutes as she constantly neared her target destination.

She eventually came close enough that she sped across the houses of the village and crashed not two kilometres from the edges of the settlement.

It took a while for the goddess to regain her bearings, to get her mind to act in tandem with her body and her thoughts aligned with each other. There were so many new things; smells and sounds. Her usual ‘hiding place’ in the godly domain, were the vast grassfields or the lush forests. She wasn’t used to the sound of multiple ponies chatting and shuffling, asking questions and expressing fear and doubt as to what was happening.

Wait... ponies?

The goddess lifted her head and looked around, seeing that she had made a crater in the middle of a large hill, spanning sixty metres in diameter. One the edges were ponies, looking at her through the smoke that still rose from where she had landed. Her brows knit together in a small frown. She couldn’t help but wonder why she wasn’t immediately bowed to. That was how it-

Her train of thought stopped as she realised two things, one being that she was currently lying down with her legs tucked beneath her in the middle of a crater with smoke and dust that still obscured the vision of her, the other being that it had been eons since she had last visited Equestria.

Figures. Mortals tend to forget things over the generations.

She stood up to her full height and spread her majestic wings. A single flap downwards brought her airborne. She spread them out to either side and tilted them to glide slowly down to the edges of the crater, where the ponies created a place for her to land. A brief glance around revealed faces filled with confusion and awe.

As she landed, one thing quickly became evident to the ponies surrounding her; She was an Alicorn. Some few bowed, some frowned, though the vast majority just stared at her in silent wonder. Despite the obvious damage done to the landscape, the alicorn goddess herself had not a speck of dirt on her. Her aqua green coat was as immaculate as ever, and the two braids that made up her mane and tail had nary a hair out of place.

“Are you a Princess?” A young voice asked from behind her. Turning around, she saw a small colt who had barely even reached his first decade in life.

“I am not,” she answered, her voice both firm and kind at the same time. “I am Theá Éri̱mo, goddess of the Hunt, Wilderness and Wild Animals. The world is in chaos and I have
come in the attempt to restore it.”

“But... You look just like a Princess!” The colt insisted. “You have wings and a horn! Only the princesses have that, or so my mom and dad tells me”

Theá could not hold back a chuckle at the colt’s demeanor. “Might the ones you call the princesses be Luna and Celestia?” The colt nodded. “Those two are goddesses themselves, they are those of the second verse and my older sisters.”

The colt looked up at her in confusion, then shrugged and trotted back to a mare whom Theá assumed was his mother.

The goddess looked around and smiled as she noticed the amount of ponies bowing to her had increased at her announcement of being a goddess. Or at least, more bowed when she looked at them.

“Rise, there is no need to bow.” She smiled, this was only the first few minutes in the mortal plane, but she seemed to have already garnered her a small following of mortals, even if they were only a hoof-full.

How long had it been since he had last made this jump into the world of mortals? It was kind of a hard question to answer, simply because when the children of the first, second and third verse descended for the first time, concepts such as Past, Present and Future were little more then theories that were still being debated over in order to work out any foreseeable issues.

As he closed his eyes and kept his wings pressed firmly against his sides, Torrential smiled to himself as he felt the wind rushing past in an utter gale, blocking out lesser sounds in its fury at being cut off by a sudden falling object. It had been far to long since he had last done this.

Keeping his wings firmly pressed against his sides, Torrential finally opened his eyes to get an idea of where he was going to land. It was a completely cloudless night, the sandy expanse beneath him extending for almost as far as the eye could see. His eyes narrowed in concentration as his horn glowed for a few seconds. Slamming into a desert face first might not have been as bad as face planting into a mountain, but by no means did that mean it didn't hurt like all hell.

Where once it was a clear night sky, thick clouds suddenly seemed to appear out of nowhere, covering the sky. Torrential plowed through the first layer of cloud with little resistance, the moisture from the quickly vanishing cloud doing a far bit to cool down the falling alicorn. The second cloud layer also got punched through easily enough, with the third managing to slow his decent a little. Striking the fourth layer of cloud, Torrential opened his wings as the momentum he was traveling at the ground at was now simply reckless instead of outright suicidal like before.

Pulling up was a major strain, his newly recreated wings having never had to deal with such a challenge before. As he managed to right himself, his back hooves started to dig into the ground, his teeth gritting as the trench he was quickly digging in order to slow himself down further quickly grew deep enough to hide him from view. After what felt like a lifetime (And considering the ongoing war, it just might have) Torrential came to a stop at last. Somewhat embedded in the ground, He took the time to breath deeply as he felt something very familiar and welcome touch his back; A falling raindrop. It was soon followed by another, then another. After that third one numbers became meaningless as the sky above unleashed a torrent of water the likes of which the ground below would not have seen for years.

After a few minutes, a completely drenched, mud covered alicorn rose from the hole in the ground he had made with a wide, almost foal like smile on his face as he started to laugh and fly around in the rain at speeds much slower then those of his decent. As the mud that covered him started to fall away from the fresh water showering him and the foal like flying stunts he was pulling, Torrential Waters closed his eyes as the roar of the falling rain filled his senses.

It felt so good to be back.

"Bloody 'ate this feelin'," Crashing Wave grumbled as he entered the Mortal Realm for the first time in almost a thousand years. A cone of energy formed around him as he felt himself start to breathe, live. He found himself over his beautiful Sea. A smile formed on his lips as he gazed at it. Moonlight shimmered of the massive body of water, making it appear silver from his vantage point, "'ello Beautiful. Ya miss me." The smell of the sea entered his nose and he relished it with every breathe. In the distance he spotted a small vessel. His eyes narrowed as a dark smirk formed on his lips, revealing serrated teeth akin to a sharks,' Time ta liberate some poor wayward souls then aye.'
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Softstep walked along the railing, enjoying the night air and the smell of the sea. The gentle breeze ruffled her sandy blonde mane slightly. There were a few unicorns but they paid her little mind aside from the occasional. She was a slave pure and simple. A sad fate for one so young but at least she was allowed the comfort of the sea. It reminded her when she and her father would go down to the shores and just watch the sunset. Then in the sky she saw a multitude of falling stars. One in particular caught her eye it was garbed in a blue light and was headed straight for the water a good mile in the distance. When it hit, a shockwave rocked the boat.

"What was that!?" One of the unicorns shouted. He stomped over toward to Softstep," What the hell you do dirt pony?!"

Softstep was about to answer when one of the other unicorns tapped the unicorn's shoulder," Umm sir?"

HIs gaze was wide-eyed with shock. Softstep looked toward the distance and found out what he was staring at. In the distance a wave of water was approaching them at breakneck speeds.

"Brace for impact!" Somepony shouted. Softstep clutched the railing as the wave hit the ship full force. Most of the unicorns were knocked off the ship and into the water below.

"Sir," a scrawny deckhoof looked over the railing at the ship’s Captain was launched overboard. He looked up and started to shout something but stopped when they heard an earthshattering roar ricked the boat.

“GRAAAAAAHHHH!”

Softstep shivered when she saw something massive move under the boat,’ I’m going to die. I’m going to die.’

She watched wide eyed as the ponies that had went overboard were suddenly pulled under water. The ship’s Captain frantically swam to the ship. He reached the broadside ladder only to be pulled under as well. Down bellow the other slaves could be heard panicking from the noise above deck.

Suddenly a titanic head rose form the sea. It was a sea serpent, the biggest that had ever been seen. It looked down at the ponies as though they were ants. Silence reigned as ponies stared up at the behemoth. Softstep shivered she knew what this thing was.

“Leviathan,” she whispered. Unicorns chose then to move to action and began bombarding the creature with spells. The spells bounced off its scales as though they were chucking rocks at it.

“GRAAAAAAHHH!!!!”

It roared a second time, the stench of rot and decay almost making Softstep puke. The Leviathan grabbed the ships mast in its titanic jaws and wrenched it free with little effort. Its tail rose from the sea on the other side and wrapped itself around the Second mast. It ripped the pylon out and chucked it into the distance.

“Abandon ship!” a unicorn screeched as she jumped over the edge. Unicorns moved to do the same when they saw blood where the mare had been. Softstep was still staring at the behemoth that wrecked the ship and snatched up unicorns left and right as though she was in a trance, rooted to her place by sheer awe and terror. Then the monster set its sights on her. The last thing she saw before she blacked out was the beast’s maw.

Softstep awoke with a jerk and sat up. She was on the beach and the sun was just starting to rise on the horizon. Her chest was heaving, her heart going a mile a minute. She placed a hoof on her chest and breathed a sigh of relief,” Oh good it was only a nightmare.”

“Bloody well ‘ate those meself.”

Softstep squeaked and ducked under her blanket at the voice. She heard boisterous laughter, “Wee lass thinks I’m out ta get ‘er.”

Softstep hazarded a glance at the owner of the voice. Before her was a massive alicorn stallion. She gazed up in awe at him. The stallion just smirked,” Ya, I know I’m one fine specimen of a stallion. Stare ‘way lass.”

A wizen earth mare with cherry red fur settled down beside her,’ we thought we lost you.” She glared up at the stallion,” You needn’t scare her.”

The alicorn smirked,” What can I say? I’ve me moments of scary. Don’t ye fret yer ‘ead lass. I won’t hurt ye unless I want ta suffer th’ wrath o’ this old salt wife.” He gestured to the wizen mare beside Softstep then bowed gallantly,” Me name be Crashing Wave lass God of th’ Sea an’ Tide. It be a pleasure ta make yer acquaintance.”

He had to be dreaming.
Bright Scroll was in a slumber, despite how he turned in his bed. The pony was tired from a long night. Surely the events that occurred was merely a fantasy concocted by his unconsciousness. It was so vivid, so colorful, so bizarre it could not be real.

Scroll's mind seemed to replay the events over and over again.

It was night, and Scroll was copying from a ruined "The Histories of Equestria Vol. 3" . It was a typical evening in his cloistered study, with fresh parchment, ink, and quills set on a small table. At his desk, two bright oil lamps above cast their light on the various tomes and documents. Some burnt, others dirty from neglect. It was his task to reconstruct and preserve what he could.

The umber pony sat there, replicating the words he could read, guess at the ones he could not. Nearly half the book was unintelligible from sitting in a wrecked library after a year.

For over a decade Scroll was doing this, or otherwise he was on the run. That was the life of the former student of the Canterlot University. After the institution was sacked, he had joined a number of staff and students on a common mission. With all the wars and destruction, it was clear to them that in time Equestria was going to fall into barbarism. There was no time to learn, let alone preserve the knowledge that their civilization had acquired. Future generations would be bereft of history, art, math, magic, literature, and even technical skills. Future generations would suffer.

So against the tide of chaos, the scholars had fought to preserve that knowledge - to give the future a chance, to avoid centuries of sadness. It was possibly a vain hope, but one that an idealist like Bright Scroll could strive for. But it was a cause that many of his colleagues had paid with their lives.

But the Scholar's mission had some success. A few hundred through the land worked on the project, and a few groups had managed to set up small refuges where they continued their work in peace. Scroll's own group had settled in what was called "Ivory Shores". It was but a shanty town mostly consisting of a hundred or so refugees. But it was far from the chaos, in an isolated valley.

Scroll’s thoughts were so focused on this that he absentmindedly wrote "The Death of Knowledge" on his notes.

He shook his head to clear his mind, and continued on his project. Then there was a thud in the distance. Soon his door opened, which Scroll turn and saw a fellow Scholar, Star Dancer. Being an astronomer, Star was one of the few of their group who could continue to actively research. Every night she observed the sky, and by day recorded her findings.

The next events were a bit blurred and out of place. He recalled a previous conversation with Star, and joked how nice it was for her to actually discover new things instead of reviving ancient knowledge. Then back to the present, a frantic conversation after the odd nose - "A meteorite had crashed near the town!" Then they were moving, trotting with a good number of townsponies following. They too were blurred, save for Gildenstride, a Royal Guard from the University who had accompanied the Scholars. He was now the leader of the town watch.

They had arrived at the scene, some carrying lanterns to light up the area. A crater had formed on the outskirts of town, between the wooden stockade that protected Ivory Shores and the nearby forest. Star and Scroll were perhaps the first to look into the crater. He recalled expecting a meteorite.

What they saw was a comical sight.

Lying upside down, with limbs up in the air and a bit misplaced was an alicorn. Grey (or was it sliver?) was her coat, covered in dust. The expression on her(?) face was almost cartoonish, with her tongue sticking out and her eyes staring in different directions.

By this time, the rest of their entourage had looked as well. If Gildenstride's face was any indication, they were just as confused.

After a moment, the alicorn shook her head. It was then Scroll realized that their visitor had no mane - where it would had been was but clean skin. He wondered if her descent had burned it off.

Before the librarian could realize what an absurd question it was, the Visitor reoriented herself upright. She shook her (yes, Scroll could now definitely tell it was a female) head, and began flapping her graceful wings. Almost instantly all the dirt covering her body was repelled. Gently rising, the alicorn lifted herself out of the crater, taking up most of Scroll’s vision. There was a silence caused by the awesome sight.

As this happened, Scroll noticed that his sight seemed to be enhanced. The lanterns seem to glow brighter, warmer than before. The grass appear to be greener than it should have been, and the stars glowed intensely. The sky itself seemed to be a swirl of dark blues and warm violets, not black as it should appear at night. Even the townsponies became vivid, their pastel colors becoming brighter and even their eyes seemed to gleam. But at the same time, he noted how filthy everyone appeared. Save for the alicorn in their presence.

How much time had passed, Scroll could not tell. He was staring into the intense hazel eyes of their Visitor, as if she was focused on one thing alone. Nothing was said as the alicorn looked around her. And suddenly, her horn glowed and there was a change. He was amazed to see the grime from everyone fly off them. He noted hats and cloaks becoming … new? The mantle of the Scholars he wore was covered in years of ink and soot, in serious need of repair, but soon it was fresh and spotless. Even Gildenstride's armor, tarnished from neglect was regaining it’s luster. Unkempt manes were brushed into place. Scars disappeared. Even wrinkles from age and stress began to smooth. The crater began to close as the upturned earth began to flow back into place.

Setting down, the alicorn now stood in front of Scroll. Gildenstride was now bowing, and Scroll wondered if he should do the same. But then the Visitor's expression changed. From cold stare, her expression became one of warmth. Grinning at the work she has done, the visitor asked "Ah, I'm tired. Do you have any tea and snacks?"

It was at this point Scroll awoke. It was now noon, and he hungered. A dream it had to be, he thought. So surreal it could no-

But as he entered the kitchen, there stood the Alicorn. Grey coat, bald pate, regal and immaculate appearance. Everywhere the room looked spotless. The forgotten dishes were cleaned, old wood polished, and even hinges of the cupboard doors shined. She was drinking some tea.

"Good morning," she said after setting down the cup.

Scroll had at last recalled her name. He whispered "Silver Sweeper".

The rafters in the church were deep in shadow, with cobwebs and dust gathering on the beams. The time was five in the morning; far earlier than the church service that would be held at nine. The city was still mostly asleep. Only guards and the occasional early bird would be awake at this time. There was a small creak of noise in the rafters.

Xerihan settled himself onto the narrow beam, absentmindedly rubbing his metal claws together. The sound was miniscule, but still unwarranted.

“Xeri… your claws,” whispered the gryphon on the opposite rafter. Xerihan looked at the soldier accompanying him; his name was Ricket, an old friend of Xerihan’s. The soldier held a bow and arrow, the smooth wood ruffled against his white feathers. A normal looking gryphon, heavily built from being a soldier. He had a tough time sneaking around, but he learned quickly. Moreover, he was as loyal a friend as Xerihan could imagine; the assassin was glad his friend had defected from the gryphon army. Ricket pawed the beam, getting Xerihan’s attention again.

“You good, boss?” Ricket whispered again. Xerihan nodded.

“Yeah,” he whispered. “Just jittery is all.”

Ricket nodded in understanding; while this wouldn’t be a hard kill, it was necessary to perform it to perfection. Any mistake might bring the city watch on them, seeing as they were in the middle of the city inside one of the more popular churches. Xerihan sighed, then pulled out a small pouch. He opened it, and grabbed a pinch of the white substance within. Salt.

Xerihan lifted up his bronze Jester mask, and quickly sniffed up the illicit substance. The drug took effect almost immediately. The assassin felt himself calm down, and he grew focused on the task at hand. He wasn’t compromised by the drug, nor did he feel any high; he had long grown used to the substance. For now, it served to make him concentrate and observe the most minute detail.

5:15 am

Xerihan glanced down below, looking at the darkened pews. A typical church, with oaken seating for the congregation, and an simple, golden altar where the priest would stand. Xerihan let his eyes wander, and he eventually found his gaze drifting to his fellow Jester below.

The Jester was an earth pony. His coat was dark blue, his mane short and black. He stood behind a pillar, right next to the entrance. His name was Snap Freeze, and it fit him well. The assassin had a deep, grainy voice that came from infrequent use, and his focus on completing his missions was unmatched. Even better, he could slowly drain the warmth from an enemy’s body - too slow for combat, but excellent for interrogation and torture.

Xerihan mulled over what they were supposed to do. Two weeks ago, a priest started raising ponies’ hopes, and urged them to take up arms against the Cult that had infested the city. While he was no different from any of the other White Knights that had tried to not-so-subtly rid Trottingham of the Cult, he had been one of the most outspoken in recent years. Xerihan thought that he might have moved to Trottingham from elsewhere; he was a very brazen orator, and most residents of the city were not so keen on disturbing the proverbial sleeping bear that was the Cult of Laughter.

As for their objective: ambush and kill the priest when he walked in to the church. He would be preparing for the morning sermon, and he would be there early enough that there was very little chance of an interruption. After they killed him, they would make an example of him - as was Xerihan’s custom.

All they had to do was wait a little longer.

5:30 am

Snap Freeze tapped on the pillar. Getting the attention of Xerihan and Ricket, he nodded once and pressed himself against the pillar. He was absolutely still.

Xerihan and Ricket tensed their muscles, ready to strike.

The door to the church unlocked, and in walked the priest. A pegasus of medium build, who was getting on in years. Then, in walked another two ponies - another pegasus and an earth pony. Xerihan mentally swore. Snap Freeze looked at the rafters, waiting for a signal or some order. Xerihan motioned with his claws to silently kill the last to walk in. Then, he motioned at Ricket to get ready to shoot at the second follower. He waited.

The priest and his pegasus follower walked in through the pews toward the altar. The priest called back to the earth pony, “Clear Cut, can you start opening the curtains? I’d like some light in here.”

The earth pony, who was in the process of locking the door, answered back, “Yes sir.” The door locked. The earth pony turned to walk to the window when he was forcefully dragged behind the pillar. Snap Freeze slit his throat with a dagger, then laid the body down silently. If one wasn’t listening for the slide of a blade or the soft gasps of a life fading away, one would never have known there was a murder.

The priest and his follower were still walking. Xerihan motioned to Ricket, who loosed an arrow at the follower. The target dropped instantly, the arrow sticking out of his eye. The priest heard the thud of a body collapsing, and when he saw the body he jumped in fright. Before he could scream or yell, Xerihan slammed him into the ground. The priest struggled for only a few moments before he lost consciousness.

* * * * *

When the priest reawakened, he was bound and gagged. He could see Snap Freeze cooling the bodies of his followers, and set them so that they appeared to be hunched over in prayer in the pews. Ricket was perched atop one of the statues in the room, a bow held loosely in his claws with an arrow ready to be drawn and released at a moment’s notice. And right in front of the priest stood Xerihan, the wiry gryphon absent mindedly sharpening his metal claws. The priest began to struggle against the rope, and he tried to scream. Xerihan heard and looked at the priest. The latter stopped, trembling in fear at the sight of the assassin in front of him.

Xerihan grinned cruelly underneath his mask, sitting right in front of the priest. He grabbed the pony’s face and forced him to look straight at him. When Xerihan spoke, his voice was dark and malicious, partially muffled by his bronze mask.

“Do you know who I am, priest?” Xerihan asked. The priest shook his head slowly, as much as he could while being gripped. Xerihan chuckled, and he removed the priest's gag.

“Like I thought. You’re an outsider here. Well, I am known as the Guidon of Joy… the assassin employed by this city’s branch of the Cult of Laughter. That you’ve heard of, I’m sure?” The priest’s eyes widened. Xerihan continued.

“Yes, of course you have. You’ve been trying to rouse the citizens, have them take arms against us. You didn’t really think there would be no consequences, hmm?”

The priest shuddered heavily, then finally spoke. “These people deserve better than this! There is war in this country, and they don’t need some two-bit thugs terrorizing them even more! If I could, I would-” he was cut off by Xerihan clenching his claws on the priest’s neck. The assassin leaned in so his mask was inches away from the pastor’s face.

“That’s where you’re wrong, priest. They don’t deserve better. In fact, I’d say we’re doing them a favor. The Cult offers eternal happiness, after all. A way to become immortal. A gift that we are about to bestow on you. You will be… an example.” Xerihan loosened his grip and stepped back. The priest gulped, his throat constricting in terror.

Xerihan flexed his prosthetic claws, inspecting them with an unnatural amount of attention. “Just like an artist who paints his days away, or a writer who slaves away with his pens, I desire to make a masterpiece.”

He drew close, putting all of the talons on his right arm onto the priest’s chest. He pressed in hard enough to draw blood.

“And you, my dear pastor? You will be my canvas.”

The priest yelled. “No! Please, don’t do this, I won’t do anything again, please let me go! Please, don’t-!”

* * * * *

6:00 am

The door was unlocked. When the first ponies to arrive for the morning’s congregation arrived, they would find the priest and his two assistants dead. The assistants would be in the pews, their heads bowed down and their throats slit. They would have smiles cut into their mouths. As for the priest, he would be suspended right above the altar. His wings would be pierced through, rope stretching them out and attached to the wall so that his body would be hung by those extra appendages. His chest and legs would be marred by dozens upon dozens of cuts, each bleeding slowly and painting him in red. And on his face would be his last scream.

The end result resembled an angel in torment.

Xerihan and Ricket flew low over the rooftops, with Snap Freeze keeping pace right below them. They picked a path that would allow Snap to follow with relative ease while heading back to their hideout. Ricket grumbled. “You didn’t have to take that long scaring and torturing him, Xeri.”

Xerihan shrugged while he flew. “It’s fine, Ricket. We got away before anyone saw. Besides, I needed to set an example. A target that defies the Cult isn’t allowed a clean death. And with the way we set that up - priceless, haha!” he laughed.

Ricket huffed in annoyance. “Doesn’t seem professional, is all.”

Beneath them, Snap Freeze answered for Xerihan. “We performed the first part of that assignment perfectly. If the boss wanted to, we could have been out of there in a minute. But the mark of a true professional is one who can get the job done right and still make a statement. We did well with this target,” he said dispassionately.

Xerihan didn’t say anything else; Snap had answered for him perfectly. He simply flew along, following the route offered by the rooftops. Ahead, he saw a shooting star. He chuckled. “Hey fellas, shooting star. Make a wish.”

Ricket laughed humorlessly. “I wish that we’ll be able to sleep in today. We stayed up too long for that target, if you ask me.”

Snap Freeze answered in his typical no-nonsense manner. “I wish that we will have the opportunity to prove the Cult is the dominant force in Equestria.”

Xerihan hummed, keeping his thoughts to himself. Both good answers. Let me see… I wish that I can keep living this life forever. Easy assassinations, praise from my superiors and fear from the commoners below. Yeah, that sounds just about right…

Ricket interrupted his thoughts. “How about you, Xeri? You gotta wish?”

Xerihan nodded, and smiled underneath his mask. “Just that we can keep doing this for as long as we live. It’s a good life.”

Ahead, the shooting star was accompanied by several others. Each went lower and lower, not disappearing. Xerihan looked on with curiosity. That’s odd. Shouldn’t they be disappearing already...?

Snap Freeze spoke up. “Boss? Ricket? Need a hand here.”

The trio had almost reached their hideout. All they had to do was get across the street. Xerihan and Ricket grunted as they grabbed Snap Freeze and quickly flew across the street. They reached their hideout, and subsequently their beds.

It was another successful hit in a string of almost one hundred targeted murders in five years. In less than three months, that streak would be ruined. But by then, their success rate wouldn’t really matter anymore.

The world was aflame.
And there was no bucket of water in sight.

The only solution was to fight fire with fire, violence- with violence.
Si Vis Pacem, Para Bellum.

A ball of fire blazed across the night sky of Equestria, one of many such meteors. Only these were no meteors, the gods themselves had taken it into their hooves to stay the chaos that sundered the land. This particular ball of fire was no stranger to violence, indeed, violence was just an old friend; more of a tool really, but the sharpest and best cared for tool in the shed.
Armifera hurtled through the night sky, her eyes wide as she felt the rush of exhilaration that only the mortal realm could bring. Nowhere else could she soar through the night sky encased in a great sphere of flame, and feel the rush of the air, and roaring of the wind and flame. She cackled in delight, marveling in how it felt to have a physical form and be speeding towards the grou-
Crap.

She flailed for a moment, forgetting her divine nature and the power it came with. Instinctively she hurled a haphazard shield before herself to ward off most of the impact and scrunched her eyes together as she saw the ground magnify an-

The earth shuddered, trembled, and rocked as the goddess plowed into it, carving a furrow in the ground and leaving a lightly smoldering crater, small clumps of soil having even fused into glass at the bottom. She lay there for she knew not how long, only that it was enough for the earth to cool and her breath to return.
But she did not stir, the stars were beautiful when one simply lay there and observed them; Luna really had done a fantastic job.

But she was not to be left undisturbed for long, as she felt motion at the edges of the pit, apprehensive motion, perhaps. She really had no idea why they were so hesitant, it wasn't as if she were going to leap up and chop their heads off. Mortals could be so silly at times. She kept her eyes closed, but subtly reached out with her telekinesis and felt around the ponies, they were ponies, she could tell that much from the sound of hooves and lack of rhyming speech. What she gleaned surprised her, they couldn't be Hurricane's Legionnaires! The martial stallion had died at least a thousand years before this, if not more!

She gently wrapped her magic around the forehooves of one of the ponies clustered to the side of the crater where she lay, forming the magic into an actual hold on the pony, and pulled gently but firmly. The mare yelped in surprise as she was pulled off balance and towards the pit, and began slashing with the spear that she had held onto. Armifera brought the mare before her, where she stopped slashing and went slack as she saw what had grabbed her magically. Opening one eye, the alicorn floated her closer and whispered one word, "Boo."

The armored pegasus sweated that much more as the goddess smirked, and floated her from the crater. Shuffling to her knees, she checked that her armor and swords were all in proper position, which they were, before standing to her full height, wings flared and mane glimmering in the moonlight. "Greetings, ponies! How are you all doing today? I don't suppose you came out here over something that fell from the sky and hit the ground, did you?"

The wide eyed group of pegasi didn't move a muscle.

She cocked an eyebrow, "Hello?" She asked, "Are any of you in there?" Muttering to herself something about shock therapy, she examined them closer.
Yep, carbon copies of Hurricane's forces, perhaps with some advances in metalworking.

"Anyway" She continued, "Since you appear to be stunned into silence, I shall introduce myself, please return the favor." She coughed and cleared her throat, "I am Armifera Imperatrix, Goddess of a couple of things here and there, but more or less to to with the martial arts." She paused to see if any of them responded, "Yourselves?"

The pegasi still remained motionless.

"What, is there something on my face?" She asked, before sighing and pointing at the mare she'd pulled into the pit earlier, "You, what's your name?"

The mare's eyes widened even more, if that was even possible, and she nervously stepped a bit closer to her fellow hoplites.

"Oh come on!" The alicorn gasped, exasperated, "It's not like I bite or anything."

Hesitantly, one of the other pegasi, whose armor seemed to have a few embellishments here or there to show rank, cleared his throat, "Eh-hem, Tempestuous Skies, Hoplite Platoon leader of House Stormwing, a-" He trailed off as she swerved her head over to look at him, and resumed speaking at an inquisitive nod, "And, yes, we were sent here to investigate the falling star..."

"House Stormwing, aye? I've been paying attention to that little group there for a while now, didn't think I'd actually land in their territory though. Tell me, what do you know of Commander Hurricane?"

To her surprise, the mare from before piped up, the pegasi as a whole seemingly more comfortable now that they were confident they wouldn't be slain in the next few moments. "Well, I do know a little about him and his empire."

Armifera swung her head back around, eyebrow cocked once more, "You do?! That's a surprise, I would have thought you all would've forgotten all about that time, but please, do tell me what you know... what is your name?"

"Summer Winds... and all I really know is that he participated in the founding of Equestria and headed its military forces for some time." The mare said.

Chuckling slightly, Armifera spoke again, "Close enough," She smiled, addressing the lot of them again, "I have come to restore peace and order in this world, through force of arms if necessary. Commander Hurricane's empire was one of the greatest and safest that ever existed, it is my goal to elevate your House Stormwing to that same lofty perch." She finished grandiosely, flaring her wings once more.

Putting on fake airs, she spoke again, "Now, if you'd be so kind as to take me to your leader?"

Trottingham

To call the doctor’s residence a hospital would be a flagrant lie in the honest opinion of Punch-Clock Joke, Pegasus and Cultist for the Laughing mare. He had seen all manner of things in his service of the Cult of Laughter, macabre dolls made of traitors, demons from otherworldly locations, pillars of faces, even some of the cult’s grotesque mockeries of leaders, but never managing reach to this level of clinical emotionless horror. No, this place would be better described as an abattoir, stinking of iron and rot whilst jugs of daffodils and chemicals perfumed the air, in turn only making it more putrescent. Unless specifically guaranteed safety by cult authorities, the doctor had a tendency of making his patients… disappear, what he did with them even made the upper echelons of the cult cringe at the thought.

Unfortunately for them, he was one of the rare medical practitioners who were available for their more clandestine requirements. Most others had been drafted by the various governments of splintered Equestria, although Earthborn had gotten the worse end of that due to their dehorning policy. Still, no matter his actions, he was a required talent in the cult’s activities and thus his fouler experiments were either ignored or hushed up. There were even rumours of deals being made with the good doctor to ensure that such disappearances of his Cult affiliated patients ceased, in return for a supply of … other subjects.

As Punch-Clock walked through a long hallway of hospital beds filled with patients bearing the most gruesome of injuries, he was surprised and disturbed by the quiet that ruled over the place. Usually a hospital was filled with the bustle of nurses, the coughing and choking of patients or even muted moans of pain. This place however, was entirely silent asides from his muted breathing and the clipping of his hooves on sterile white flagstones.

Looking around he passed the more aware patients of the good doctor and shuddered at their emotional responses to even the movement of hooves. Many huddled into tight balls of white linen blankets, covered in bandages and staring out in utter terror as he made his way through them. For a moment he was struck by an image of a stoat in a warren, its hypnotic gaze set upon a huddle of baby rabbits as they stared in paralytic fear, waiting for the animal to move in for the kill.

It seemed to take hours before he neared the end, a small stairway made of the same white ceramic stone as the floor arched up suddenly to a browned, rusted iron door. He paused and looked to his left where he saw something curious. A small unicorn foal was working tirelessly on a strange mechanical puzzle box, her horn aglow with flickering bronze magical energy as she attempted to push and probe the device. She looked perfectly healthy to Punch-Clock, a pale white coat with bronze hair and blue-green eyes and it took him a while to realise why she was here.

Below her waist she had no legs.

On further inspection he noticed a two wheeled device which must have aided her in moving about, but what was most noticeable was the presence of a large arched chip near the base of her horn.

An attempted dehorning.

From what he had heard of the Earthborn’s practice it sounded like utter agony, the horn of a unicorn -even more so than any other horned creature- was a sensitive part of the body and several arteries ran beneath the bone amongst the soft tissues. In the early years it had been almost a miracle if the unicorns didn’t bleed to death or die of shock from their dehorning, although Earthborn had been steadily developing their brutal craft since the introduction of the policy.

Not that they had much interest in keeping crippled ponies alive anyway…

He was surprised when she looked up from the device and raised a quizzical eyebrow at him, almost accusatory for his transgression. He looked away, blushing at his poor manners.

For a moment there was silence before she spoke up in a clipped Canterlot accent.

“Tell dearest uncle that I am nearly finished with this one and for him to send me something more challenging” she said, returning her gaze to the puzzle box as part of it slid away. Asides from the slight clicking of the changing form of the box, the world became silent once more.

Confused, Punch-Clock nodded slowly towards the foal, and turned back towards the door. Walking up the steps he paused and took a deep breath of the sickly air before mustering his courage and tapping on the door.

The metal clang of the door was uncomfortably loud in the silence of the hospital and he stood there waiting as sounds of clinking metal and shuffling hoofsteps made their way steadily towards the door. With a small creak the door opened and two brooding eyes caught him in their icy gaze.

For a moment they simply looked at each other before a refined voice broke the silence and a grey hoof motioned to him.

“Come in.”

Dr Charred opened the door more fully, and the light of the hospitals windows showed that which darkness had hidden. He was covered in a surgical apron and a rolled up shirt, everything seemed to be coated in blood and viscera and he smelt of iron and cinnamon. A surgical mask hung loose around his neck and a thin smile cut jagged across the doctor’s cold features.

Punch-Clock paused as the doctor turned and strode back into the near darkness of the tunnel, disappearing into the gloom like a wraith. He shuddered in fear and entered; surprised by the sudden drop in temperature as he did so. Looking around he found the cause of this in the form of magical devices made of sapphire gems, artificial refrigeration devices.

Trotting along into silence he eventually spotted flickering blue lighting ahead and the dark silhouette of the doctor standing before the door, beckoning with one hoof. The image was disturbingly surreal and for a moment Punch-Clock’s mind switched towards that of flight. It was almost too suggestive of horrible outcomes, but still he pulled through and made his way past the shadow of the doctor and into the surgery room.

The room much like the rest of the hospital in design, large arched windows covered the far side, showing the stars and moon bright in the midnight sky. White tiling covered the walls halfway up and the room was illuminated by pale electric Tesla lamps which produced a continuous glow of contained purple-blue lightning. Large cabinets sported an array of medical devices and large esoteric machinery covered the better part of the room, emitting a droning noise like the sounds of thousands of flies. Dark substances bubbled and frothed in an alchemical lab to the right side of the surgery and a nearby desk was littered with the same type of puzzle boxes seen in the hooves of the foal before he entered.

Whilst he had been staring the doctor had moved to the centre of the room and began working on the operating table, Punch-Clock couldn’t quite see what he was working on, but it looked like an Earthpony of considerable size, perhaps even a Juggernaut. Whatever it was it was obviously dead, the flayed skin and bodily organs lay in a bucket, and Punch-Clock felt an overwhelming feeling of nausea spread as he heard the wet slice of knife upon flesh.

“I assume your masters sent you here for a reason.”

The disinterested tones of the doctor echoed around the chamber, startling him out of his observations.

“The Cult always wants something… I assume some battle or terrorist attack they are attempting tonight or in the future? Some pointless dribble no doubt.”

“Yes Dr Charred.”

The doctor turned his head and gave him a withering look.

“We then, get to it.”

“The cult recently suffered an ambush by Moon and Star inquisitors; we have injured that need tending to for an upcoming retaliatory attack. Our leader offers the usually payment and …” he paused, the words foul in his mouth “test subjects for your experiments”.

“How many injured?”

“20”

“How many Filth ponies?”

Punch-Clock bit back a retort and breathed through his nose angrily “… ten”.

The doctor was silent for a while, the only sound in the room that of floating blades and machines on bone and muscle. Then he spoke.

“I will require an increase in test subjects in exchange for this, preferably Juggernauts… the last batch they gave me is almost depleted… then I will consider helping your… comrades.”

“The cult will not stand for a change in our established deal!” Punch-Clock seethed.

The doctor only eyed him again, and his skin crawled at the look of patronising pity on his face.

“The Cult is not in a position to made threats, I am one of the only surgeons willing to deal with your injured in this city, and I know enough of your activities to do some considerable damage to your operations. An increase in test subjects, take it or have your companions die from unsanitary conditions and infections in your hideouts, tell your master that.”

“Your niece…”

The doctor’s face visibly darkened, a barely restrained expression of fury being clouded by his traditional Canterlot pose.

“You touch her, and you and your masters will quickly find yourselves flayed alive, it has not been the first time I practiced that technique, and it won’t be the last.”

“… we will consider your request.”

“Good, now go, I tire of your prattling... but before you do, take this to my niece.”

The Doctor levitated a similar puzzle box into the outstretched hooves and motioned for him to leave. As he left through the darkened corridor he privately raged, he knew the cult would have to give into the doctor’s request, as he had said they didn’t have much choice.

Still, it was degrading.

A loud noise startled him from his thoughts, for a moment he didn’t realised what it was until he heard Dr Charred’s voice echo down the tunnel.

“So… you are awake again are you? Excellent, the stars are beautiful tonight, and look! A meteor shower, maybe you'd like to wish upon a star? After all, feeble hope is the only thing you have left.”

Punch-Clock didn’t waste any time in voiding his dinner over the floor of the tunnel, before fleeing in horror towards the exit… and away from the moaning of a pony he had thought was dead.

Chapter One

Three Months Later

---

---

Archmagister Twilight Sparkle of House Moon and Stars was not happy. She had not been happy for a long a time now. Now and then, of course, there had always been a tremor of giddiness. A slight of mirth. A hint of glee.

At 12:17 in the morning, one of her hoofmaidens has roused her from her sleep and notified her of the break in at the Vault of Princess Platinum. By 12:22, she was fully dressed in the robes befitting her station. By 12:23, the magical artifact known as the Element of Magic had been summoned from the Right now, she was standing in a large dark, circular room somewhere deep within the depths of the fortress city of Canterlot. Over a dozen ponies sat on raised platforms, their faces lit by the pale glow of the crystals that danced in front of them. From this room, the Scryers of House Moon and Star could survey the whole of her dominion.

But now, as the crime wave across Moon and Star territory swept, panicked voices and reports overlapped each other. Chaos was the tone of the surveillance center and the lack of any credible information blinded them.

Arch Magister Twilight Sparkle of House Moon and Stars was not happy.

“Clover’s Vault has been ransacked as well!”

“This is impossible…” the Scryer’s brow furrowed in confusion. “This is saying the seal on the vault was untouched!”

“How are they getting by our defenses?”

The reports of the damage came in by the minute. The Canterlot Library. Princess Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns. The Tower of the Arcana Council. The Crystal Embassy. The Canterlot University of the Magical Studies. The Museum of Equinology. The names were an obituary list of the great centers of Equestrian learning and magic. The loss of the knowledge held in the tomes of the Vaults was immeasurable, let alone the artifacts, tapestries, and treasure. But this? The loss was impossible. Catastrophic. Even Twilight Sparkle’s extraordinary mind hurdled trying to process it all. Each and every one of them had been stripped bare within the span of an hour.

“T-they’re just gone!” a pony stammered. “Everything is just gone!”

“We have unauthorized moment on subfloor seventeen!” a pony suddenly shouted from across the room.

Twilight’s eyes widened in realization. “The Royal Archives…”

With a mere thought, Twilight ripped her form from physical spare, blinking out of the scrying room without another word. As reality snapped back around her, now twenty-six floors beneath her prior position, her mind was already chewing through possible scenarios and culprits. Whoever had breached their defenses had done so with subterfuge. Earthborn and Stormwing, Twilight decided as she swept down the hall, crackles of arcane magicks snapping around her, both lacked the tact for this endeavor. Everfree had no use for the knowledge of books. Which left only the spies of Whitegold… or the Cult.

Twilight forced down the sense of repulsion at one of those… things touching even touching a single page of her collection.

The two unicorn guards who usually guarded the entrance were instead gagged and pinned to the wall alongside of it, black chains bolting them to the solid stone. She strode by them without a second thought.

The Canterlot Archives had been founded centuries ago by Princess Celestia and buried within the depths of the Castle. Only the most valuable of writings ever found their way into its depths; history, academic research, spells, arcane theory... among other such things. It was meant for books that were too valuable to be destroyed, yet too dangerous to ever see the light of day. Within it held forbidden tomes of dangerous magic

Twilight passed row after row of empty shelves and empty aisles. She quickened her pace.

A figure in gray cloak crouched in the back aisle, the hood covering the majority of his head. Yet even in the darkness of the archives, she could see his sand colored plumage and strong muzzle. Before him on the ground was a satchel, lined with gold thread and runes around its surface, spread open. Here, to Twilight’s relief some books remained, though not for long. The books were plucking themselves off the shelves, one by one, with remarkable speed. Each followed the one before it, practically bouncing in the air as they moved . As they neared the mouth of the empty bag, they shrunk in size to join the already growing pile of stolen goods.

“Hockety pockety wockety wack abracabra dabra nack,” the stallion, judging by his voice, chanted in a whisper. “Shrink in size very small, we've got to save enough room for all. Higitus Figitus migitus mum pres-ti-dig-i-ton-i-um!” the pegasus paused to catch his breath. The books paused in mid-air, as if patiently waiting him to continue. “Clover you belong to the "C's", alphabethical order please,” he gently chided the book. Said book zipped to the front of the line “Ali-i-ca-fez bal-a-ca-zez malacamez meripides diminish diminish dictionary those words in your vocabulary.”

Twilight stepped forward, her hoof clacking against the stone floor.

The thief turned to see the Archmagister of Canterlot staring at him from the other end of the aisle. Unbridled cold fury was etched into her eyes.

He turned to run. Twilight fired.

One bolt fired straight through the through the stallion’s body, coming out the other side with a spray of blood. The ones that followed hit their mark, tearing holes and craters into his form and flinging him against the wall. His remains slid down against the wall, leaving a trail of viscera and bone fragments in his wake.

Twilight Sparkle starred down impassively at the body, her anger slowly cooling. This… this was what has breached the defenses of Canterlot? This was what was causing so much chaos? Just another piece of pegasus filth?

Then the sand colored pegasus stirred from the pool of gold blood.

“That hurt… a lot…” he grunted, rising to his hooves. Twilight watched as magic began to stitch his internal organs together, flesh smoothing over vacant spaces “Should’ve kept an eye on the door… I’m such an idiot.” The pegasus rose to his full height, and Twilight could now realize that he absolutely towered over her. His now ruined hood falling away to expose the spiral of ivory crowning his forehead.

“You…” She could not believe what she was seeing. “But you’re not…”

“Who were you expecting? No, I am not,” he agreed with her.

Her spies had reported whispers to her. That a being with the wings of an pegasus and the horn of a unicorn lurked within the depths of the forests. Another who traversed the countryside, bringing good harvest and fresh rain/ There was even a rumor smoldering in the ranks of her navy about one such figure who played pirate and was responsible for the recent setbacks of the slave trade.

These were not the first stories to surface.

Years ago, there had been ‘sightings’ of the Sisters everywhere from the Crystal Mountains to the Zebran Desert and Twilight Sparkle had investigated each and every one of them.

It all came to nothing.

A map filled with strands of colored yarn, scraps of newspaper, and red ink scribbled in late hours of the night as candlelight guttered on its wick. Some of the stories so ludicrous, some of the locations so ludicrous, that she had merely dismissed them. It was simple a trick or ploy by one of the other Houses, a story created by the slaves to instill hope.

“Are you here to punish me?”

“No,” was the simple reply.

“What are you?”

The beings eyes met hers, and the mare felt almost childlike in his gaze. His body was that of a stallion in his prime, and yet his eyes… as grey and cold as iron spoke to her volumes of countless winters and summers gone by.

Twilight had stared into magenta eyes like those a long time ago.

“For alicorn is named both your horn and your kind, / And the heart of a dragon lord easily can it pierce."

He was real.

He was here.

The magic in Twilight’s horn slowly dimmed as she began to lower her guard. “Do you know what has happened to Princess Celestia and Luna?” she asked him. She was painfully aware of how tiny her voice had become in the great expanse of the archives.

“No,” the Alicorn said again, “Though if its of any consolation, I am promise you they are still alive.

Alive.

The word echoed itself through her entire being. The Archmagister’s eyes widened, and then misted over. With a shaky breath, she slid down to the floor. “I always knew…” Twilight trailed off softly. An incomprehensible feeling swelled in her heart. A tremor of giddiness. A slight of mirth. A hint of glee. “I always knew that one day you... one of you would return.”

“Forgive me, my Prince. Had I known… I never would have… We have so much to discuss!” Twilight exclaimed. She wore a smile that threatened to break her face. “I’ve worked hard to make sure that everything is perfect for when you came back!”

“Prince?” The Alicorn blinked in surprise. “I’m not prince of anything. Now if you’ll excuse me, unicorn,” the alicorn said dryly as he walked by her. “I believe I am almost done here.”

There was a sudden burst of light as Twilight blocked his path, an amethyst hoof pressed against his chest. The gunmetal eyes stared down impassively at her.
“Aren’t you going to stay? There’s so much we need to do!” Twilight urgently cried. He couldn’t leave now. Not after all this time. “We need to end the War! We need to find Princess Celestia and Luna!” she pleaded with him. “We all need you… I need you to rule.”

“Why in Mother’s name would I ever want to rule?” he asked with great curiosity. “If I did that, then I would have to bother with trying to undo all the damage your actions had caused. No, I have no desire to rule to over the pathetic scraps you have carved for yourself.”

His words fell like a hammer to Twilight’s each, each word a blow to her already wounded heart.

“Was that what you were hoping for, unicorn?” he continued. “If the Sisters came back, was everything just supposed to go back the way it was? Could the little village you had drowned be restored? Did you really think it would be that simple?”

Twilight’s silence was all the answer he needed.

“No unicorn,” the alicorn affirmed, focusing on the last few remaining books in the archives. “This is triage. I only here for the only things of value… oh! The Occultus Modis Harmoniae,” he remarked softly in surprised as he picked up a rather ancient looking tome. “I’m surprised you haven’t burned this book as heretical, unicorn. Or is that the job of your Inquisition? Either way, that’s definitely a keeper.” The book quickly shrunk to the size of a postage stamp and disappeared into the bowels of the satchel. The alicorn picked up. “The Pony Sutra, first edition from Saddle Arabia,” he flipped the book open to a random page. “With pictures none the less! Such perverted tastes you have…” He turned the book vertically, his eyebrows lifting in surprise, a slight blush tinting his cheeks. “…and who knew that Celestia was that flexible in-“

“SHUT UP!” Twilight finally unleashed her spell. For the first time in decades, the calm demeanor of the archmagister shattered and with ghostly clanks, series of purple spectral chains appeared out of nowhere and entrapped the alicorn, wrapping around his horn, his wings, his legs, and the rest of his body. With no small bit of satisfaction, Twilight tugged a chain around the bloody alicorn’s snout particularly hard.

“I am not just a Unicorn! I am not pathetic! My name is Twilight Sparkle!” A spiraling disk of light appeared underneath the stallion, who didn’t even try to struggle against the chains seemingly anchoring him to mid-air. The Element of Magic burned hot upon her brow. “Don’t you tell me it wasn’t those fools’ fault that Ponyville was destroyed! They should’ve known better than to be such arrogant fools in the first place! Everything was fine! I could have kept them safe! But they let their pride get the best of them, and an innocent town paid the price!” Four pale columns slowly emerged from the portal, surrounding the alicorn.

“But I can change it! I am the scion of the Solar Invictus! I have devoted myself to the Arcane! I made friends! I am the one who bears the Element of Magic! I am the one who kept Canterlot from falling into Chaos! And now, I’m the only one who is doing what needs to be done! To end this War and bring about true Divination!” The ends of the chains, previously hanging in midair, all latched themselves to the four pillars. As soon as they were secured, the columns and the chains began to sink back into the portal, forcing the god down as well. “You left this world! You abandoned us!

The archmagister’s horn glowed brilliantly from under her hood. The prison kept sinking without a hitch, but the alicorn’s eyes were still visible – mocking her. Twilight grit her teeth and focused harder. Finally, the chained alicorn was out of sight, and the portal began to shrink. Yet, Twilight refused to release the magic until she saw the portal shut off completely.

There was a moment of silence. She blinked as she realized what just happened. She, Twilight Sparkle, had just imprisoned the first alicorn to be seen in Equestria in over twenty years! For a moment, she felt like her chest had swelled up so much that she could balloon off at any moment. She didn’t need him. She was stronger than they were now. She was at last ready for Ascension. She was-

“Impressive.”

And then the moment ended.

Twilight teleported away just in time to avoid the massive black chain swung down at her. “A seventh-tier arcane binding utilizing an extra-dimensional pocket,” the alicorn went on, levitating four bundles of chains. Silver runes and glyphs glowed upon each link, with more being produced each second from the black tendrils of smoke pouring off his body. The alicorn’s black mane was in complete disarray, and even his robe seemed more threadbare than it was before. “You even added a bit of chrono distortion; centuries could pass in that place while only a few hours passed here. I’m surprised at your mercy, leaving your opponent to die of old age like that. I commend you, unicorn Twilight Sparkle,” the alicorn acknowledged her in a raspy voice, Twilight noted, by name for the first time. “That was the finest bit of binding magic I’ve seen in millennia. Even I would’ve been hard-pressed to manage that without any prepared runes or circles. The Element of Magic must be more powerful than I thought.”

Two of the chains shot through the air at Twilight, who teleported out of the way again.

“H– How did you escape?” she gasped out, as the alicorn approached her. The binding have taken no small amount of her energy to accomplish, the drain costing her precious seconds to recuperate when she had none.

“Oh, it wasn’t easy, I can promise you,” the alicorn smirked humorlessly. “It took me well over a decade to pull your seal apart. Don’t worry, I won’t hold a grudge.” He swung one of the chain bundles in front of him. Twilight quickly threw up a barrier to deflect it. Instead, the chains wrapped fast around the prison, and he was quick to throw his remaining bundles. The chains tightened around the purple dome, and storm of fiery sparks flew from the friction. “You let your insecurities get the best of you. You let your anger blind you…”

“तुम एक झूठे देवता हैं. सूर्य की एक ठग!” Twilight shouted, nearly mangling the words with her harshness.

“Don’t patronize me,” he chastised her in her own tongue. He did not know where she had learned their tongue. Her teacher perhaps? “I’ve had a decade to sit and mull this over.”

Twilight struggled to hold her barrier against the ever increasing pressure. “Pitiful, really. For all your talk of power, of achievement… of Divination,” the alicorn scoffed at the last word. “…it’s still just talk,” he continued steadily. “Your form was perfect. Your spell casting technique? Flawless. Any mortal would have been imprisoned for eternity. Even one of my kin would have tremendous trouble freeing themselves. But why try to crush an ant with a boulder?”

“I never underestimate my opponents,” she answered, as she released her shield. “Especially with imposters like you!” There was a bright flash as she teleported, leaving his chains to tighten around nothing and appeared behind him. A wave of fire ripped from her horn, screaming in an arc towards the alicorn. Arcon tilted his head around to look at it. His lips were a thin line set into his face, lit aglow as the arc set the air on fire around him, consuming the alicorn’s form.

It rippled against the grey shield he conjured a fraction of a second later, dispersing against the wall behind him.

A twinge of panic ran through her as something tightened around her leg. A fifth black chain, hidden by the shadows of the darkened archives, fastened itself around the limb. It trailed back to a bundle Twilight now realized what coming from the alicorn’s back.

She reached for the part of her mind that held the spell to teleport, and the thought died midstream. It simply was not there. Try as she might, something had sealed that part of her within.

“I am not an imposter. My name is Arcon,” he declared, wrapping the chain which held her around his hoof to secure it. The silver glyphs on it glowed bright. “I am an Alicorn… and you are just a unicorn.”

With an inarticulate scream, her magic ripped the closest bookcase from where it was bolted to the floor, and hurled it at the stallion. It shattered against his form, a shaft of wood lodging itself deep within his back.

“You’re trying to prove yourself to me. Prove that you’re adequate to sit on the Throne of Canterlot. All you’re trying to do is fill the Sisters’ shoes,” Arcon hissed as his shoulder knit itself back together. One wing dragged itself on the ground, useless for the moment and spilling golden ichor.

A black chain tightened around Twilight’s neck like a noose and lifted her off the ground. He reeled her in closer and held her up so their eyes met. Her hat, and with it, the Element of Magic fell to the ground with a clatter.

“You're quite a pathetic replacement. You’re a failure of a student ridden with guilt over an event twenty years ago that was out of your control, and you’re filled with the constant need to feed your ego to make up for your inferiority complex.”

Her reply was several bursts of raw magic that ricochet uselessly off the shield he conjured and vaporized the bookcases and stonework around them. Stone melted into slag around the hooves of the alicorn and the air was thick with plasma and heat. When the dust at last settled, the two of them were standing in a fairly decent sized crater in what used to be the rear of the Royal Archives. In the far off hall, the exhausted archmagister could hear the faint clopping of approaching ponies running towards her.

“I have what I came for,” Arcon said at last, looking towards the shattered and empty shelves. There was a clatter as his body finished forcing out the wood, and he extended his now healed wing. He placed the satchel securely across his chest, and straightened the tattered remnants of his cloak. The chains around Twilight’s neck dissipated into wisps of black smoke, dropping her to ground. “I will withdraw for now. Otherwise, this will never end,” he said, a hint of exhaustion in his voice.

The sound of approaching hoot beats grew louder and the alicorn moved to a nearby door that said “Janitor” on the plaque, favoring the side that hadn’t been just impaled. The archmagister rose to her hooves, a hoof tenderly massaging her sore throat. Her magic immediately began to kick in, healing the damage. “I don’t know how you got in…” she rasped. “But you’re not leaving. The entire city is on lockdown.”

“Where there is a lock, there is always a door,” he said. For a few moments, there was only silence as the archmagister and the god stood each other down.

His horn glowed briefly.

Twilight moved. She did not need to think about it. Merely react. She was faster on the draw than he was. A single bolt of magic escaped her horn before she needed to raise her defenses. Something whipped from the inside of Arcon’s robes. Her barrier, an impassible dome of purple, surrounded her.

A golden key clinked against the surface, not even stirring a ripple, and fell to the floor.

Arcon ducked as the stonework above him was torn apart in an explosion of shrapnel, nicking his exposed face and cheeks. He glanced back at the purple unicorn, his eyes filled with disappointment.

“You are all still just… foals,” he whispered in bitter resignation.

The door opened with a quiet click behind him, golden light within spilling out onto the stone floor.

“If one day you ever feel you wish to learn again, come find me, disciple of the Solar Invictus,” Arcon bade her as he stepped into the door. Twilight caught a glimpse of an impossibly large chasm within the depths of the closet. For a split second, she saw racks of artwork, fields of statues, and a labyrinth of book cases. “Next time, however, I shan’t hold back… and I believe, neither will you.” Then the door was slammed shut.

A few seconds later, Trixie stormed into the archives, magic flaring and backed by a score dark cloaked and masked forces of the Inquisition.

Twilight picked her hat back up, absently brushing off some imaginary dust before. “What took you so long.”

The show mare looked at her superior as though the unicorn had grown a second head. “Trixie was dealing searching the rest of the castle against potential threats, as is protocol,” she stressed. Twilight turned to the door that Arcon had disappeared into.

All that greeted her was the sight of a few brooms and buckets. The space was only a foot deep, not even enough for a pony, let alone an alicorn of that size to fit in. Twilight closed the door again, and turned to the azure unicorn behind her.

“Bring the prisoners to the interrogation hall immediately.”

“Trixie regrets to inform the Archmagister that there were no prisoners.”

“So it was a complete slaughter then?” Twilight replaced her hat with a tired sigh and banished the Element of Harmony to her personal chambers. “Very well. I would have preferred had we taken one alive, but what done is done. Prepare the bodies for examination.” When Trixie did not move, Twilight gave her an irate glare. “Well?”

“No casualties either,” she stated impassively.

Silence.

“Excuse me?”

“No casualties. Enemy casualties, or friendly.”

Twilight released a very tense breath. “Explain to me the cause of this momentous failure.”

“While Archmagister Sparkle was… busy with the Archive, Trixie and her Inquisition were attempting to secure the remaining strongholds,” Trixie said icily, as she took in the damage surrounding her. “Eye witnesses have identified some of the perpetrators as known exiled blood traitors and we are working to identify the exact type magic they used to elude us.”

So the alicorn was not working alone. Was he with one of the houses? Or were there new players in the game…

“Leave me,” Twilight said at last. “Search the rest of the archives. See if there is anything that remains.”

“Archmagister,” Trixie acknowledged as she and her forces dispersed, leaving Twilight alone with her thoughts.

She rapped a hoof against the door, listening to the noise. It was simply solid oak. The entire thing was a

Twilight opened the door. It was still just a broom closest. She closed it, waited a few moments, and then opened it again. Still just brooms.

She picked up the key that the alicorn had given her, closely scrutinizing it. It had no runes, no symbols, not even a scratch. Scans with her magic revealed no enchantments, latent or otherwise.

It was… just a key.

She looked back up at the closet door. To the keyhole beneath the handle.

Did it have a keyhole before? Twilight could not remember.

It fit into the lock perfectly, as though it had been cut for this exact door. It turned with a quiet click.

Twilight opened the door.

Beyond the door was an impossibility. Beyond the door was a great room filled with empty bookcases and broken stones, filled with shadows and dusty memories.

Beyond that door was another Twilight Sparkle.

She tilted her head to the side, and the reflection copied in perfect sync. She reached out a hoof.

A hoof pressed back against hers.

---

Arcon stepped out into a ring of stone arches. He was not along. Nearly a dozen other ponies stood chatting happily, with more arriving by the minute as they stepped out of the archways. Torches flickered along the stone walls. The entire place was a honeycomb of caverns and tunnels. A massive set of galleries and platforms had been carved into the walls above, serving to provide even further face by the collection which grew daily.

Stolen from libraries, universities, homes and stores, they originated from every time period from every corner of Equestria. Tapestries, paintings, books, sheet music, statues, artifacts, mosaics and frescos; they were all here, their numbers in the millions, and each had been methodically organized and preserved for future generations of ponykind.

“Lord Arcon, you’ve returned!” a cream colored unicorn shouted, running into the stone ring. “And you have them! Oh thank goodness! Thank you! Thank you!”

Silent Dawn was a good underling. Arcon had found him outside the gates of Manhatten with his three daughters, hidden away in the slums of the outer city. The unicorn had once been the archivist of the very place that Arcon had just robbed, having been forced to flee with what little of his collection his could carry when he spoke out against the Inquisition.

“Careful with those,” Arcon said humorlessly as he levitated his satchel to the archivist. “I’m fairly certain some of those spell books will explode if you jostle them around too much.”

With a much gentler hoof, and no small amount of trepidation, Silent Dawn accepted the satchel and hugged it against his chest. “My life’s work… I cannot thank you enough, my lord… ” Silent Dawn whispered, looking up at the alicorn with pure adoration. “Did the satchel’s spell matrix work? Was it able to hold everything?”

“While the lyrics were utterly ridiculous… the enchantment worked perfectly. A masterwork weave, Head Archivist.” Arcon slipped off the remains of his woolen cloak and allowed a pair of mares to redress him in a fresh one, leaving them to bowing in his wake as he walked away.

“It was actually my daughters who came up with the words…” Silent Dawn admitted with embarrassment as he followed the alicorn. “You know how hard it is to resist them.”

“I do,”Arcon lied dryly. They continued to navigate the maze of shelves and display cases, climbing higher into the mountain. “The operation?”

“All of those weeks of planning have paid off,” the unicorn declared proudly. “We cleared out each location within the hour. What was in the Vaults alone… we’ll have to spend the next year just going through all of it!” the unicorn exclaimed excitedly. He then dropped into a more morose tone. “We… do have a few injured. Some guards caught a pair of runners as they tried to escape.”

Arcon blinked uncaringly. “Pity,” he mused. “Was anything they were carrying damaged?”

“Uh… no my lord,” Silent Dawn said uncomfortably. “Also about… that one particular statue retrieved from Canterlot…” Silent Dawn trailed off.

The alicorn’s nostrils flared for a split moment, the only sign of his distress. “Place it in the center of the High Security Vault and seal it. I will add further protections once I have rested,” Arcon paused for moment. “Also inform Marzipan that I am going to need about a dozen troughs of water and a double feast. I ran into some trouble with your Archives. The Archmagister did not appreciate me taking her books.”

Twilight Sparkle knew hundreds of thousands of spells. Spells to conjure anything out of nothing, to bend time and maneuver space. The least of which could shatter bones or turn his blood into fire. He counted himself lucky she had been to lucky to remember them while she was angry.

He had several thousand new books that required reading and he wanted to get started as soon as possible. Still… next time she would be prepared.

As would he.

“Lord this is… I’m not sure if it is a pressing issue, but certainly a strange one. There’s a… hawk at the perimeter of the outer barrier.”

Arcon paused, a look of frustration on his face as he stared down at the stallion who shrunk under his gaze. “Why, Silent Dawn, are you wasting my time with something as trivial as the local fauna?”

Silent Dawn gulped. “The uh… the hawk hasn’t moved in the past few hours… and its emitting magic… and its transparent… that’s… important right?”

There was a pregnant pause.

“I will be right back…” Arcon muttered with a tired sigh, as he teleported to the edge of his realm.

A few minutes later, the alicorn was back… and considerably paler.

“….”

“Lord Arcon?”

“After the last of the runners return, activate the emergency barriers and seal the gate. Prepare all external defenses. The Hall is going into lockdown mode. Nopony enters or leaves other than me, Silent Dawn, is that understood?”

“Y-yes Lord Arcon... but whats this all about? Is it that hawk? Did it say something?” the archivist fumbled in shock.

“Yes.”

“What then could have you so worked up?”

“ ‘Hello Sweetie’ “

Three months.

It had been three months since she had descended to the mortal plane and gotten a body again. She couldn’t count how many eons had passed since last she had truly possessed her own flesh and blood, been able to feel the wind against her face and through her feathers. Some lesser and more gutter-minded might say that the feeling of wind flowing through her feathers as she sped across the skies was orgasmic. She, however, would simply say that it was a feeling she had missed and joyously accepted as being part of her daily life again… for however long it lasted.

She opened her eyes and looked down at the plains passing below her as but a blur of green, though every possible threat or even mortal, whether sapient or not, was noticed and catalogued. She wasn’t one to take chances despite her confidence in her ability to out-maneuver and do away with whatever target sought to eliminate her. She smiled ruefully as a hawk dove down and impaled a pigeon with its claws, silencing and killing it almost immediately. She was much like the hawk, an expert killer; strong and fast. Like the hawk, she preferred to attack unseen, to ambush once and then be done with it. There was no reason to attack more than once if the first arrow struck true which, in her case, it most often did.

She glanced to her side, away from the hawk, and noticed the large mountain near the horizon. She couldn’t see who resided there, but she knew who lived there regardless, if her web of sentinels spread across large parts of the country anyway. Arcon, she knew, had taken up residence in that mountain, even crashed into it as he descended if some of the stories she’d heard were true.

Meteor hitting a mountain. Heh. Always the klutz—probably reading when he fell, too, I bet. She chuckled although the sound was lost, drowned by the rush of the wind passing by her.

Even as she flew, her thoughts turned to Arcon and she couldn’t help the frown that crept onto her brow. Of all her siblings, he was the one that protected himself the best. That also meant that getting information as to his going-ons was incredibly difficult. Her sentinels could not break through his barriers, and doing so herself would not only alert him to her presence, but it would also make her look needlessly hostile—and she had no intention of getting in the way of any of her fellow Godlings so long as they steered clear of her and didn’t interfere with her plans and goals; for while she dearly loved each and every one of them, she was not adverse to showing them that she was not to be trifled with.

A smirk started to replace the frown that had previously marred her face as an idea started forming in her mind. Her horn lit up in a faint leaf-green colour and beside her appeared a hawk not unlike the one she had seen catch the pigeon, the only difference being that this one was somewhat transparent, though this was only visible at a relatively short range. She glanced at it and through her magic, passed on a small message to it, as well as a purpose.

It was to bring a message to Arcon, her brother. She had made sure to impart the knowledge on it that it would not attempt to break his barriers as such a thing would be futile, but instead take the form of a mountain hare once at the barriers keeping his fortress secure, and then make its presence known which, she assumed, would happen if it kicked the barrier hard enough for a couple minutes. With no visible sign of acknowledgement, it angled its wings and took off towards the mountain, leaving Theá to her own devices.

I wonder how he’ll react to my little ‘Hello Sweetie’. He always was a bit of a prude, too absorbed in learning about the ponies to have a little fun. A shame, really. Would’ve been fun to play around with him a little, but never could get his attention up there… it might be easier now that I have a corporeal body. Guess I’ll find out at some point.

She banked and angled her wings downwards, starting a downward spiral towards the edge of a forest she had just passed over. She loved the view from the skies, but the view one got from just sitting on a hilltop was still something special in its own right, and something she felt like watching at the moment—Not to mention that it would make it significantly easier for Meelo, Rati, or even Amaretto to find her, or at least get to her. In the air it was practically impossible to keep up with her. Or rather, it was literally impossible unless one was a master of teleportation, as she scoffed at the thought of anyone being as faster or faster than her, except for her elders, of course.

She touched down outside of the trees and sat down, looking towards a city in the distance, and the plains divided by a single road which separated the city from the rest forest and surrounding areas. Glancing to her side, she noticed the mountain range upon which Canterlot was located, frowning at the sight of the bubble that was just visible to her keen eyes even from this distance. To think that the unicorns would return to their arrogant ways. Paragon of the pony species or not, I always thought of each and every one of them being equal, yet the unicorns always had the idea that they were better… Speaking of which.

Turning towards the Canterhorn mountain range, she looked to the Everfree forest not so far away from it, by her standards, and felt her thoughts turn to one unicorn in particular. A unique stallion, to be sure, and possibly the only moral she had ever let make demands of her. She didn’t quite know why she hadn’t simply turned her back and flown away when he initially proposed his deal—or made demands of her, as was how she had viewed it for some time after that—but she had listened and agreed. She would help return his daughter from the Whitegolds, as well as make sure the remainders of his family had a safe haven, and in return he would swear his allegiance to her. He was one of her first followers, having joined on only her third day in the mortal realm, and he had been true to his word. She had helped retrieve his daughter unharmed from the Whitegold faction, and she had given them a safe haven in the middle of the Everfree where his wife, in-laws and daughter, as well as he when he was not on some errand for Theá, could live in peace and safety.

One might say that the Everfree is a dangerous place, and normally one would be right, but the clearing in which the Jamison family had made their home was riddled with a wide variety of detection spells and traps, ranging from both physical traps like those a hunter might use, them magical traps invisible to the eye. As if it wasn’t difficult enough to get to, she had also covered the clearing in camouflage enchantment, rendering it, not invisible, but nigh on unnoticeable to any but her own kin, and even they would have trouble finding it. That is not to say that it was impossible to get to, as it was only the perimeter of the clearing that was filled with traps, and only the clearing itself that was hidden. One might stumble upon a place riddled with traps, but would never find the reason for said traps.

If, however, one had an invitation, so to speak, it was possible to find the clearing, but such an invitation was difficult to come by, and no one but Theá herself had one, save of course Amaretto himself and his family; it was a testament to the stallion’s determination to keep his family safe.

I wonder when I’ll meet him again, Theá mused as she returned her gaze to the city on the other side of the plains again, laying down on her belly with her massive wings folded at her sides.

The Trottingham Riots- Three months later

It seemed this riot spawned by the cult had spun out of its control, or at the very least expanded the list it wanted dead. Trottingham, now without their most infamous assassin, and thus lacking the appropriate sapient meat to tenderise with pitchforks and clubs, had decided it could do with killing the lesser evil instead, just to relieve some tension.

Now, who better to enact that vengeance on than the “demonic” Dr Charred?

Scalpel ducked as a firebomb smashed through the window and turned a patient in his bed into an inferno of hellish flames and frenzied screaming. His remaining patients were either fleeing or had left before the riots reached them. Outside the mob roared for his blood, howling insults and launching more projectiles into the building. The barred front door boomed and crunched under axe and hammer as they attempted to break in, already he could see some forms of primitive grappling hooks being tossed through the windows.

“Hurry uncle!” his niece cried, waving her right hoof at him as she bundled more puzzle boxes into the various baggage of their new servant, “the door won’t last much longer!”

Nodding he sprinted forward, having to cover his face as glass and weapons flew and the inferno began to spread to the roof of the building, beginning to envelop the room in thick black smog. Reaching his niece he gave her back wheels a once over to make sure they were in place properly, before nodding and moving towards the secret passage out of the building.

“How much equipment did you manage to get on to him?” he asked as they dogged another projectile which took out another part of the hospital ward.

“Only half uncle” she replied, her tone neutral but eyes wide with worry, she had quickened her pace and now her wheels squeaked at the low jog.

“Damnation…” Scalpel flicked a hoof through his matted, sweat drenched hair and peered back at his servant.“I guess I’ll just have to use the schematics to recreate it… still all this research material lost! Damn the cult and its bastard drugged up assassins…”

They hurried through one of many side passages and pushed through a metal door, which Scalpel swiftly locked and barred behind him with a flicker of magic. There was an almighty crack and roar of broken wood as the front doors caved in and the mob swarmed the building in a killing frenzy. Already he could hear them venting their rage on some of the Cult’s soldiers too weak to be moved, and their horrified screams as they were stabbed and hacked to pieces.

“Did you get all the boxes Honey Puzzle?” He inquired hurriedly, increasing his pace again but slowing slightly as his niece struggled.

“Yes” she affirmed, staring solemnly into his eyes, a little red in the face due to the strenuous pace they were forced to adhere to.

“Well that’s one small relief!” He smiled at her, proud once again in the organisation skills of his young relative, “come on, we should be out of the building before they get through the side door…” he smiled grimly as he hurried through the dimly lit corridor “I hope they enjoy my present…”

The noise of the riot seethed and howled behind them in the claustrophobic darkness and soon they began to hear pounding on the door far behind them. The servant snorted and clicked as the surgically inserted clockwork and magic apparatus over its head switched to defensive parameters. A sonorous boom echoed behind them as the townsponies got smart and began to use something heavy to batter down the door.

They continued the retreat as the pounding on the door and enraged shouts grew louder. Before long the drumbeat of iron on iron thundered forth as sledgehammers began battering the door out of shape. The dull glow electric lights steadily grew brighter ahead of them and the doctor quickened his pace, lifting his startled niece onto part of his back that wasn’t covered in baggage, as he made his way towards an illuminated doorway.

“Almost there dear!” he said nervously, desperately beckoning the lumbering shape of their servant to follow him through.

Locking the mahogany door behind them they made their way through the abandoned study room of some pre-war doctor, pushing through dust and cobwebs towards a singular bare patch of wall where a chipped and slightly out of place brick projected. Placing his niece on the ground again, he pulled the brick out of place telekinetically and the wall began to rumble as it turned on its side.

They hurried through the rough hewn cavernous gap as the sound of the door collapsing echoed behind them and the thunder of running ponies and furious shouts of “murderer!” filled the air. The giant servant moaned behind them, turning its head in concern at the growing noise and Scalpel had to tug at its reins to get it to follow. The wall closed behind them just in time for them to see the blade of an axe smash through the upper panel of the locked door.

For a moment they were enveloped in darkness, before Honey lit an oil lamp and passed it to her Uncle. They moved silently onwards for fifteen minutes until they emerged through another wall portal into the streets of Trottingham. Behind them they could just see the decayed hospital sitting on its small hill and the swarms of ponies clambering through its doors and windows. The streets of Trottingham were little better and already swarms of looters and angry mobs were fighting off local Stormwing enforcers in a bloody battle of wills.

Silver Scalpel frowned as he looked back at the hospital, “they should have found my present about now…”

Suddenly an explosion rocketed forth from the hospital, spewing green fire from the windows and incinerating many of the furious rioters. Lumps of flaming masonry and roof tiles were launched into the surrounding vicinity, spreading the fire into the surrounding rat’s nest of houses, and a near deafening roar blocked out all sound momentarily as part of the building collapsed in on itself. Flaming figures were soon running about like ants across the hillside, desperately trying to smother the flames which coursed across their skin. Behind then, Scalpels servant grunted happily at the display, causing the earth to rumble a little with the applause of his hooves.

“Pretty colours” he beamed.

“Ah” Silver Scalpel mused happily, “right on time. Come on then, let’s get out of this place”.

With the explosion there had been a temporary ceasefire in the battle, both sides too dazed to react, but it soon returned with increased intensity and fervour. As they made their way through the back alley’s of the city they passed the corpses of many citizens, cultists and Stormwing forces in multiple states of dismemberment. Shifting through a small community square they were also rewarded with the sight of some giggling cultists holding down a Stormwing hoplite whilst one sat on his chest and repeatedly stabbed him with a dagger as he gurgled in horror.

After they managed to escape the cultists notice Scalpel decided it would be better if he was properly armed and unloaded one of the more interesting devices the cult had paid him with, a fire siphon.

“Got to give it to the mud ponies” He muttered as he loaded the device with a metal barrel of naphtha and levitated it in front of him, “They do know their weapons.”

As they made their way slowly through the network of alleys and backways the sound of screaming and fighting increased, occasionally there were loud thumps as Pegasi were shot out the sky, or the screaming bodies of plummeting rioters being tossed from on high by Stormwing forces. Every few minutes a small explosion echoed out as Jesters of Baltimare spread their malicious chaos. Behind them the sky was dominated by the flaming corona of the hospital and the burning districts surrounding it, tall talons of flames stretching towards the sky as a symbol of anarchy and destruction.

It was clear from the dark figures above it that Stormwing and the fire department were attempting damage control, but they looked hopelessly undermanned. As more and more forces were required to join the fray, the fires continued to spread. Soon, Scalpel estimated a good part of the city would be under the conflagration.

As they ducked through another alley way Scalpel abruptly halted. The way ahead was blocked by a battle of Laughing Dead and Revellers against Stormwing ground forces. He attempted to backtrack, shifting the siphon around and behind the form of his servant, more came out the woodwork behind them, cutting Scalpel off from escape. Scalpel’s servant snorted nervously, shifting its weight in preparation for a fight and clicking as the headpiece shifted it once again to defensive procedures.

The alley was silent for a moment before one of them stepped forward, Scalpel vaguely remembered him from some time ago after the last request the cult had sent to him.

“Dr Charred I presume?” he asked, a vindictive smile smeared across his face.

“No, my name is Rosiepuff McDragon, who the fuck do you think it is son?” he replied sarcastically.

The cultist’s face wavered for a moment, before settling back into a smug grin, but now there was a hint of malice behind it.

“We have orders to make sure you don’t leave the city Dr Charred, you know much sensitive information and you have a bad record in our local administration.” He turned towards the horizon and the smouldering ruin of the hospital, “Your targeting by the locals was… regrettable, however you have made yourself a liability to the cult with your little display. Stormwing will no doubt be interested in acquiring you, and the information you have could be dangerous in their hands, not to mention their questions on why you were stocking explosive materials…” shifting his head toward Scalpel again he stared solemnly at him, “come with us, and we will ensure you a safe place to ride out the chaos”.

Scalpel scoffed, “not likely, the only safe place in that blasted cult of yours is a bloody body bag. You couldn’t even ensure that there would even be a complete body in there, let alone our safety. Not that it’s your interest anyway…”

Scalpel planted his hooves firmly in the loose soil and stared down the pony, “Tell me truthfully, the cult’s getting rid of loose ends, unreliable associates and disappointments isn’t it?”

Punch-clock nodded, signalling in his posse of Revellers as he did so, “I am afraid you have seen through my little charade doctor, a pity. You could have made this so much easier.” He smiled, but there was no cheer behind those steely eyes, “I was going to make your death’s less painful, but to be honest, you don’t really deserve it” he let loose an insane giggle and picked up the slack on his flail, beginning to spin it in an arch of death, “time to play”.

The Revellers moved forward in slow, calculated and menacing steps, revealing themselves more fully in the light of the growing inferno. To move the Siphon would mean his swift death, the Revellers would be there before he could unleash the devices potential; he needed something to distract them.

Passing across their faces he picked upon on something which he hadn’t been able to see before, Ex-Slave tattoos… a plan began to form in his head.

“Ex-slaves then gentlemen?” he smiled, secretly feeling nauseous with fear, Honey Puzzle moved close, terrified by the turn of events.

“Heh, What the fuck does it matter to you, you sick uppity shithead.” a scarred face pony replied, a forced smile coming out more as a grotesque grimace.

“Yeah you bastard, what does it matter?” another chorused, a fat earthpony with flaps of geasy meat around its neck “We are going to kill you slow and…heh, heh… have some fun with that little filly of yours.”

Scalpel almost exploded at them in fury, but managed to keep a cool expression “I used to be in there too.”

That caught their attention.

One them paused and looked at him confused, the flail in his jaw going slightly slack, “But you’re a fucking hornhead cunt… unless…”

A cold smile spread across Scalpel’s face “meet the Red Death”.

They physically recoiled at the name, a look of absolute terror running across their previously smiling faces and Scalpel took the opportunity given to him. The Siphon whipped out and in a desperate exertion of magic, unleashed a flaming tempest of Naphtha over the group.

Scalpel lifted his niece onto his back again and signalled his heavily armoured and packed servant to shield his way through the flames and screaming ponies. The servant grunted, thundering forward and as a flaming figure got too close kicked it into a wall with its back hoof, shattering the masonry along with its spine. Punch-Clock had survived the blast purely by a mixture of chance and holding back slightly, but had still been dazed into rearing had fallen on the ground.

He backpedalled away from Scalpel as they emerged like demons from the darkest levels of Tartarus, a look of absolute terror coating his face.

“You can’t be him… Red Death’s gone, Moon and Star declared him a martyr!” he screamed hysterically.

“Death is quite fleeting when you happen to be one such as me. Grunge, be a good servant and deal with the trash will you?”

Grunge the servant growled and stomped towards Punch-Clock as he pushed himself away desperately, unknowingly moving into a corner. In the light of the fires he saw skinless flesh and a lipless toothy grin under a sea of fused metal, wires and tubing.

“Holy Laughing Mare…”

“Not quite” Honey Puzzle quipped as she disappeared with her uncle, giving Punch-Clock a death stare of unrepentant hatred.

The behemoth of metal stomped upon until it was directly in front of him, and then in a low gravelly tone, spoke two words.

“Bad pony.”

Punch-Clock screamed, and then a reinforced hoof splattered his brain matter over the wall of the alley like macabre modern art. The titan looked at it for a moment in the flickering glow of twisted flaming corpses, and then ran after its master.

***

With most of the local town guard, Stormwing soldiers and cultists in the inner city, the outskirts proved to be much less difficult to traverse. Still they had to duck as squadrons of Stormwing hoplites coursed overhead, or when mobs of Laughing Dead crossed their paths, the gibbering zombies stumbling around and slaughtering all in their way. The streets were littered with debris and corpses and once or twice Scalpel had simply had to lift his niece above the tides of death and destruction.

Eventually they managed to reach the gates, closed of course, but that mattered very little considering the ponies guarding it were having their corpses chewed on by giggling ghosts. Grunge cleared the path, stomping the apparitions into oblivion. Behind them another explosion rocked the sky as an untouched cache of explosives caught fire in the hospital, sending another plume of green fire above the city like the grim reapers finger.

As Grunge began to unbar the gates Scalpel scavenged an old cart and with the help of his niece loaded it with his equipment. As the last bar was thrown aside and the gates bucked open a crowd of Converted Townsfolk appeared on the horizon and shrieked with glee as they saw the fleeing figures. As they charged as Scalpel managed to get Grunge into the harness of the cart, with little to no time he vaulted over the side of the cart, startling his frightened niece and whipped Grunge into a thunderous charge through the gates.

As the picked up speed the cultist were at their heels like the Hounds of Tindalos, and one especially enthusiastic cultist dug his pitchfork into the back of the cart, hanging on for dear life as Grunge picked up speed. Honey Puzzle screamed, lifted the fire siphon in desperation with her magic, and beat the cultist over the head with it, stunning him into losing grip and flipping away into the crowd.

Scalpel gave her a genuine smile as the sped away to freedom, “nice shot Honey, but maybe you can fire it rather than use it as a blunt instrument next time”.

As the sped away, the violence continued in Trottingham, a blazing inferno on the far horizon and practically an all out three way war between the Cult, Stormwing and the rioters, a blazing corona of madness, of disorder and of chaos.

There was only one thing to be said on the matter.

“Pretty colours.”

“Indeed Grunge.”

The sound of glass shattering into a thousand pieces pierced the night sky.

In the city of Trottingham, it was the first omen for what would become a chaotic fight that could be rivaled in size and bloodshed only by a true battle between two armies.

---

Xerihan stumbled as he hit the ground, clumsily rolling to break his fall. Glass rained all around him, stinging his back and wings. He paused, trying to catch his breath. Did that really just happen?

His thoughts were interrupted by a loud yell.

“Xerihan! What the hell are you doing!? Come on, we need to move!”

Xerihan shook his head, trying to regain his bearings. Right. Move. Have to keep moving, he thought. Not bothering to look back, he sprinted to catch up to his friend, Ricket. Both gryphons raced down the alleyway as the shrieks of enraged acolytes echoed along the brick walls.

They had flown up through the glass in the roof of the building, having escaped the ritual chamber. They had been looking for an exit chamber, and found one in the skylights above them. Now they ran, trying to escape the insane ponies that bayed for their blood.

Two pegasi flew through the broken window, pitchforks in their hooves as they dived at the two retreating gryphons. Xerihan and Ricket rounded the corner, avoiding the dive only momentarily. They were on a larger street now, and a few ponies walked along, minding their own business. The two gryphons sprinted past them all, trying to put distance between them and their pursuers. The two pegasi had flown back up, and were pursuing them from the sky, pitchforks ready.

Xerihan glanced back, and saw them dive. “Ricket! Move!” he shouted. The former Jester hooked left, jumping through a small newsstand. Ricket had held steady, darting between two ponies. The pegasi on Ricket’s tail missed, skewering one of the unfortunate ponies that had been in his way. Meanwhile, Xerihan fumbled to stand back up after landing in the stand. The owner had woken up from his nap and was yelling at him furiously. Xerihan paid him no mind; to him, it sounded like white noise compared to what he was listening for.

There was a loud crack up above. The pegasi had pierced the tin roof with his pitchfork, and was trying to tear it open to reach Xerihan. The gryphon muttered, “Excuse me,” to the stand owner as he jumped back into the street, leaving his pursuer struggling to pull his weapon from the roof.

Xerihan was running behind Ricket, and saw the Cultist chasing him. Xerihan leaped into the air, quickly catching up to the slower pegasus and tackling him. The pegasus grunted in surprise, and they tumbled back to the ground. Rolling over several times, Xerihan gained the upperhand and slit the pegasi’s throat with his metal talons. Standing up, he heard something whiz past his ear. He flinched, looking to see where it had come from.

When he looked, Ricket had pulled out his bow and apparently loosed an arrow. The reason was apparent a moment later; the second pursuer smashed into the ground, sliding only a few feet behind Xerihan. Said gryphon looked up, surprised. “Thanks?”

Ricket nodded. “No problem. Now, let’s get out of here!”

Xerihan agreed full heartedly; the two gryphons rised into the night air, hoping to fly far away from the city before more Cultists could pick up their trail. They made it only twenty feet before Ricket cried out in pain.

Looking over, Xerihan could see why; a giggling ghosty had snuck up on them, and bitten hard onto Ricket’s wing as she smiled. Xerihan looked over and behind his friend, and he gulped. “Ricket, get back to the ground! They released the ghosts!”

Ricket grunted, stabbing the ghost until it let go and disappeared in a small poof. “Are you kidding me!? Those things will go everywhere! Does the Cult even care if House Stormwing notices how much they’ve dug into the city??”

Both gryphons started to glide back to the ground. Small swarms of the carnivorous ghosts appeared in the streets. “I don’t think they do, Ricket. They really want our blood,” Xerihan replied matter-of-factly.

Ricket merely snorted as they hit the ground running, folding in their wings to prevent the ghosts from permanently grounding them. “Bull shit. They want to kill you, I’m just collateral.”

“A charmer as always, Ricket,” Xerihan deadpanned, clucking his tongue.

Ricket chuckled grimly. “Dont’cha know it.”

They continued to run, the swarm of ghosts attacking any airborne creature - several pegasi fell down screaming, unable to hold off so many attackers. Xerihan grumbled, his discomfort plain. “At least they prefer flying targets.”

Ricket had no response. They reached an intersection, and both were dismayed to hear a gathering crowd. Ricket groaned. “Don’t tell me they caught up...”

Indeed, a large mob of Cultists had found their way onto the streets, searching for the escaped gryphons. Pitchforks, torches, large knives, and even axes graced the assembling mob of Converted Townsfolk. Xerihan and Ricket couldn’t slow down fast enough to escape detection.

“There they are!” came a cry from the group.

Before either gryphon could respond or continue fleeing, a loud siren was heard. Pegasi shock troops poured in through the air, repelling the swarms of Giggling Ghosts as a squad of Stormwing ground guards marched from the opposite side of the street. The two groups paused, unsure if they should attack.

Xerihan and Ricket were stuck; a wrong move could get them killed. “I was kind of hoping this wouldn’t turn into a complete clusterfuck...” Ricket commented, a small hitch in his voice.

The mob of townsfolk made up their mind quickly enough. “Get Xerihan! Kill the blasphemer!” one of them cried. The mob moved to charge the gryphons. The stormwing ground guard interfered, shouting orders at the mob to stand down.

Xerihan thought for a moment, and reached a conclusion in milliseconds. “Go dead ahead! We’ll meet up behind ‘em, the gate’s not too far from here!” He dashed forward between the Stormwing and Cult troops, forcing Ricket’s hand in following him.

The two gryphons dashed through the escalating conflict, the Cultists and Ground Guard fighting in a large, confusing battle of tug and war. Xerihan ducked several times, narrowly avoiding the swing of a halberd or pitchfork. He dodged to and fro, quickly making his way through the mass of ponies. With one final leap over a torch wielding cultist, Xerihan was clear of the crowd.

Ricket had less success in his attempt to navigate the crowd. He barely dodged the attacks that flew by him, at one point being nicked by a thrust from a ground guard. “To hell with this,” he muttered, spreading his wings and taking off. He made it to the far side just as three giggling ghosts converged on him, intent on gnawing his wings.

He landed, but was set upon by the ghosts. He flailed around, trying to get the annoying spectres to leave him alone. He managed to stab one, but another took the opportunity to bite his tail. “Aah! Get lost, you freaks!”

Xerihan raced up and slashed at the ghosts, dispelling the remaining two. He sighed as he tugged on Ricket’s armor, pulling him along to run. “Stay on the ground, you idiot! Those ghosts will start swarming you if you don’t!” yelled the gryphon, frustrated both with his friend and the situation they found themselves in.

They rushed down the street, leaving the growing battle behind them. “Okay,” Xerihan huffed, panting from running for so long. “The gate should still be open, and news of the riot won’t reach the guards manning it for a while. If we hurry, we can make it through without much suspicion.”

Ricket nodded, before nervously saying, “Sure, but, your face, Xeri... that’ll draw attention.” He was referring to the piece of bronze mask that was melted onto half of his friend’s face.

“I know, damn it!” Xerihan snarled, still leading the way to the gate. He huffed, willing himself to calm down. “Look, we can turn left here and make our way through a residential area. They tend to dry clothes outside here, we can pick something up and be on our way to the gate.”

No further words were needed. The two gryphons slowed their pace to a trot, finding a clothesline within moments. The sounds of the battle echoed in the distance, screams and the clashing of metal growing in volume.

Xerihan grabbed a large cloak and several extra pieces of clothing, while Ricket plucked a simple sack shirt from the clothing, among a few miscellaneous items. They were just about to leave when they heard a window creak open. They looked up, panic in their eyes when they saw a mare gaze out to the fires down the road. Then she looked down, seeing the two gryphons. A glint of light reached her eyes, and she saw the Jester Mask melted to Xerihan’s face.

The mare panicked, screaming, “ASSASSIN!” at the top of her lungs before slamming the window shut.The cry echoed out into the street, momentarily drowning out the noise coming from the riot.

Xerihan felt numb. Ricket was on him in a second, shaking him from his stupor. “Xeri, we have to RUN! It won’t be long before the guards show up!” Taking faulty initial steps, the gryphons were soon on their way to the city gates.

Doors and windows opened as neighbors investigated the commotion. Lights began flicker on throughout the houses and apartments. “This is bad, Xeri...” Ricket nervously commented. The observation was justified; dozens of ponies were now investigating the cry and the fighting in the distance. When they saw the two gryphons running along, they could immediately guess who the infamous figures were.

It wasn’t long before yells of outrage and frustration assailed their ears.

“Murderers!”

“You’ve ruined this city!”

“Go to hell, you cowards!”

“You sneaking bastards!”

A can was thrown at them. Then a horse shoe, then bottles and heavier, deadlier detritus. Xerihan shielded his face with a claw. “Just keep going, we’re almost at the gate!” he grunted.

They endured taunts and projectiles thrown at them. The ordinary townsfolk seemed to be out for blood, and soon the road ahead was blocked by a solid line of stallions that were fed up with the former Jester.

“Grah, we do not have time for this!” Ricket yelled. He leaped clean over the line, ignoring their yells of protest. Xerihan rapidly followed suit, kicking a stallion with a hind leg before he landed. They ran on, the crowd now behind them infuriated. “Get them!” one of them shouted, rapidly followed by yells of agreement.

The gryphons reached the main street again, and the gate was only fifty feet away. The Stormwing guards noticed the commotion caused by the crowd, and the decision was made to start closing the gate.

Xerihan and Ricket continued to run for their lives; they had no choice. With the townsfolk behind them and giggling ghosts above, their only option was to run through the guards to the exit.

“Halt!” yelled a particularly burly ground guard. “I said halt!”

Xerihan and Ricket ignored him and sprinted past, avoiding the halberds the guards swung at them in an attempt to stop their escape. Luckily, the flying guards were entangled by the ghosts and were in no position to intervene, easing the gryphons’ escape. Closer and closer they approached, finally within distance of touching the gate-

They dived through, seconds before the gate became too narrow for any pony to go through. The gate shut completely, blocking the gryphons’ view to the city. Numerous lights and fires could be seen over the walls. The yelling of Cultists, ghosts, Stormwing guards, and the enraged populace could be heard from miles away, as the city slowly tore itself apart in the chaos.

Ricket looked back in disgust. “Fuckin’ unbelievable.” He glanced at his friend, staring at the closed wooden gate behind them. Ricket sighed, then said, “Come on, let’s get going before they figure out we escaped the city.” The brown gryphon turned tail, walking away from the destruction.

Xerihan couldn’t tear his eyes away from the city walls. There lay what had been his home for over seven years, and it tore itself asunder. In a moment of weakness, Xerihan felt cast out, astray, with no direction. He didn’t even know what his next move was, and that simple fact chilled him.

He tugged on his cloak, pulling it closer to his body. What do I do now?

Xerihan finally turned around, slowly following behind his friend. Dark thoughts swirled amidst his doubt, and he cursed the day the alicorns decided to return. He gripped his claws in anger.

I hope this country burns itself to the ground. Alicorns have only ever caused trouble here.

---

On one of the walls of the city, a single pony sat with a pair of binoculars. A Giggling Ghost accompanied him. The pony in question wore the customary gear of the Jesters, a bronze mask adorning his face, with a large vest and leggings obscuring most of his natural body. In the few cracks that showed, his coat was an intense, dark blue. A dagger was sheathed on his side, and one of his hooves was covered by what appeared to be a gauntlet.

Snap Freeze put down his binoculars, a frown forming underneath his mask. He clopped his hoof on the stone beneath him, signaling the ghost to listen. “Unfortunate. It appears Xerihan and Ricket escaped the city, under cloak. They’re on the road to Muddy Hooves. Alert the High Priest and tell him to send reinforcements. I won’t be able to take them by myself.”

The giggling ghost nodded its head up and down in a ridiculous manner before zooming off into the night. The pony stayed standing, looking at the road in silence.

A whisper drifted through the air.

“Sorry boss. But you failed the Cult, and now you’ve betrayed it. There’s nothing I can do for you now.”

Three Months Later

Softstep gazed at the expanse of water before. Tanking a deep breathe she relished the smell of the sea. As she stood on the deck of The Leviathan she found herself thinking back to that fateful day three months ago when she had met Crashing Wave. Then she had been a lowly slave filly now she captained an entire fleet. She had become a hardened privateer in the command of the God of the Sea. The tan earth mare let out a chuckle and looked at the rest of the Kraken’s Fleet. Over twenty ships composed the fleet with the Leviathan as its flagship. The Leviathan made good on its name. Her crew composed of well over a hundred ponies and even a few griffins. It dwarfed most ships it came across and had enough fire power to bring a whole fleet smoldering in its wake.

In the distance she saw a group of ships. Their target was a group of Moon and Star’s frigates holding a cargo most precious, slaves. They moved to free any and all they could. Softstep took another deep breathe. Yes today was a good day to kill.

“Master Glint with the wind,” Softstep said to the grey stallion beside her,” I smell a fight on the horizon.”

“Aye captain,” he said as he turned the wheel.

“All hooves lower main sails and be quick about it fore I send ta meet yer maker,” Softstep yelled. The crew obeyed and chuckled at the inside joke. She wouldn’t kill any of them but to their enemies she already had a reputation of being utterly ruthless.

With the Leviathan at the lead the Kraken’s Fleet soared across the water. They approached the small fleet of Moon and Star ships with blinding speed. When they came into range one of the smaller vessels made to broadside the larger ship. It was a military frigate without the cargo they wished.

“Run her down,” Softstep said.

Glint nodded and turned the wheel. The Leviathan plowed into the vessel crushing it and sending its crew straight to the Maker herself.
“Today’s a day for blood lads. Show ‘em the guns,” Softstep shouted and drew her cutlass.

The Leviathan broadsided one of the merchant vessels and opened cannon fire on it. The rest of the fleet engaged the other vessels. Softstep went to the railing and grabbed a rope. She swung across the gap between the ships and landed on the deck of the other vessel. A unicorn came at her with a raised blade. She ducked under his strike and slid her blade across his throat. Another unicorn came at her. Not missing a beat she jumped to the right and plunged her blade into his side. She pulled her blade free and walked on a grim look in her eyes. Suddenly a funnel of water erupted from the sea and aimed itself straight for the middle of the ship’s deck.

‘Always late fer the fight,’ Softstep shook her head and chuckled.

Crashing Wave stood up and shook the water from his body. He looked around at the shocked faces of the unicorns but the pirates just grinned. Crashing pulled his scimitars out with his cerulean magic and held them lazily at his sides.

“This ‘ear a private scuffle or can anypony join?” He asked with a devil may care grin.

The captain of the Moon and Stars ship shook his head raised his blade,” It’s one the false gods! For Celestia!” The unicorns rushed forward with renewed vigor.

“Ah an open fight then good,” Crashing blocked a blade with one of his own and used the other to trip his opponent. The unicorns went down with a grunt. Crashing slid a blade into his gut and moved on. One of the pirates was pressed against the railing trying to drive back a pair of unicorns. Crashing sen t a torrent of water at the trio, sending the unicorns into the sea where they were set upon by sharks.

“Thanks Cap,” the pirate spit out a gob of sea water.

“No problem mate,” Crashing ducked under a pair of blades aimed at his head,” Aye that was close mate.”

The unicorns glared and made another sweep at him. Crashing laughed and pulled them off the side of the ship with tentacle constructs of water.

“You’ve got power I’ll admit that false god,” the ship’s captain sneered as he walked toward ,” But I see that’s all you rely on.”

A lanky earth pony, still a colt in truth, rushed him but the unicorn captain twirled around the colt’s blind strike and slammed his blade’s hilt against the colt’s head. He went down with a grunt and without a second thought the captain ended his life with the swipe of his cutlass.

“You’ve skill with a blade lad,” Crashing said as he regarded the other captain,” ‘Ow bout this. A straight up fight ta th’ death no magic?”

“Like you would honor that scoundrel,” the captain spat.

“First mate me canceller ring!” Crashing shouted, holding his hoof out.

Softstep walked forward and placed a ring in Crashing’s outstretched hoof. The alicorn placed it on his horn and grabbed one on of his blades in his mouth before it hit the floor. Softstep grabbed Crashing’s other blade and moved back out of their way.

“Thank ye lass,” Crashing said around his scimitar and looked at the unicorn captain,” Your move mate.”

The unicorn lunged forward with a piercing strike. Crashing brought the blade up under the unicorn’s and swatted it to the side. Crashing twirled and one of his harpoons caught the unicorn across the cheek, opening a small cut. The alicorn ended his twirl with a half-hearted lunge and cut the unicron across the other cheek, opening a matching wound.

“Looky there lad’ ‘es got whiskers,” Crashing laughed and the pirates joined him. The unicorn growled and made repeated strikes at Crashing. The alicorn blocked each but soon found himself up against the railing. Crashing jumped into the air just as the unicorn made a sweeping strike at him. Crashing dove down as the unicorn lost his balance and slammed into him. They went rolling and the Crashing pinned the unicorn.

“Yield mate this dual’s over,” Crashing said as he pressed the blade against the unicorn's throat.

“Bloody cheater,” the unicorn spat in Crashing’s face.

Crashing’s expression darkened but his smirk stayed,” I said nothin’ about me wings lad but fer this here spittle in me eye well…”Crashing trailed off and slit the unicorn’s throat. Blood sprayed from the wound and formed puddle around him. Crashing wiped the spit form his eye and pulled the canceller ring off his horn. Softstep took the ring and hoofed Crashing his blade.

“Thank ya lass,” he said as he took the blade and sheathed both. The remeaning unicorns had dropped their blades and surrendered,” Alright to those of ye who want to live ye have two options. Either join me crew of sea fairn’ scallwags or take a dip in me sea and make for th’ shore. If ye choose option two I will give me word on me honor that ye won’t be harmed.”

Two unicorns jumped off the ship’s side and began swimming for shore. “To th’ rest of ya welcome to me crew. First mate I believe we’ve got slaves below deck. Rum’s on me tonight lads.”

The pirates all raised their blades in a rousing cheer.

Scroll lay floating in the back in the Baths, staring at the newly resorted roof. Though the alicorn Sliver made sure her High Priest was constantly clean, he still enjoyed relaxing in the water.

Ivory Shores was largely a shanty town, even with the improvements since the arrival of their patron, the Lady of Cleanliness. Many of the homes were tents, huts, and old cabins of the resort. However, thanks to Sweeper, the plumbing was restored (among other utilities). The former resort had it's own large baths, which were largely empty until a few months ago. It was now frequented by every pony, a luxury many refugees and ex-slaves did not enjoy until now.

The Scholar closed his eyes, and went back to the conversation a week ago…

---

Scroll was nervous, sweating despite the cool air inside the Central Library. He stood in front of the Directors, the leaders of the Scholarship. Located in Manehatten, the facility it was the only place that all the directors could meet safely without worrying about any particular pony type.

"A good report, my young student" said Director Green Sandwhich. The elderly unicorn was the de facto leader of the order, once a part of the faculty of Canterlot University. "It seems that the Lady Sweeper is making progress in her mission."

Scroll bowed briefly as thanks. "Yes, she's been almost every corner of mainland Equestria, having visited spots in every of the major powers, save for the Changelings." He would know best, as Scroll went with the Alicorn everywhere. Rapid flight was not a natural experience for an Earth Pony. The Scholar held on to dear life, speeding in the air on the naked back of an alicorn.

Not that being on the ground was any safer. Granted, Sweeper did protect him, but there was plenty of close calls. Of the various times, he was almost became lunchmeat for some timberwolves, skewered by a Laughing Cultist, almost dissected by cultist of a different obscure sect, chased by a mad mare, and almost got mugged. All in the same week to boot.

"Her visits has gathered her followers every place she goes," continued Scroll.

"How many?"

"Depends. Most of the time it's a few, sometimes one. But sometimes a whole village. But they're too spread out to have any real influence anywhere."

"Yes, I've heard of a new cult of bald ponies, doing what they can by cleaning up the trash and gutters in the city. Despite the seeming impossibility, they've done plenty of good work. The Lady does amazing things."

"Most definitely," said Director Iron Spoke, a middle aged earth pony and dean of the Dodge Junction Technical College. Despite his upbringing with farmers, Spoke was rather eloquent. "By Celestia, I couldn't believe my eyes when she restored the Junction Cache! The Lady has but to view something, and in moments she can rebuild it anew! Parchment re-grown, bindings resown, writing re-appearing where it was previously illegible!"

The Directors had all seen Sweeper at work. It was only three months ago, just after Scroll's first breakfast with the alicorn that he took her to the major caches of the Scholars. His peers labored to preserve knowledge before the arrival of a dark age. Sweeper did what the Scholars thought would take a generation to accomplish. Using her magic, Sweeper restored the knowledge that she could save. For she could not recover it all - mostly the fragments of ashen tomes - and still required materials as she could not create matter from thin air. But what took Scroll a month to copy (let alone decipher what was readable), the alicorn took minutes.

With the Knowledge Caches restored, Sweeper also improved the Vaults - prepared secrect areas that were to protect the restored works. The mages of the Scholars were taught spells to maintain a steady climate and to help in preservation. Awe by the accomplishment, the Scholars swore allegiance to Sliver Sweeper, swearing to aid her mission to restore Equestria to it's former beauty. They went from going on the defensive, and became proactive. Granted, they were not 100% with the alicorn, including Scroll. Her unusual habits and bald head were not endearing traits.

At least Equestria would not be without the light of knowledge.

"Yes," said Green. "But our project still needs to be protected. Do you remember Professor Sweet?"

"Ph.D. in Musicology, keeper of the Golden Pines Cache," said Scroll. She was also a friend, keeping in touch when Dancer took the mail.

"She just came back from investigating Greenfields Library… sad to say that she found it in ashes after an Inquisition raid about a month ago."

Scroll face sadden at the news. It was one of their major branches and connections to the Moon and Stars.

"There were three survivors… out of the twenty personnel. Ten of which were full members of the Scholarship. And none of them survived."

"Worse, they were unable to save any of their lives' work," Spoke continued. It was not a selfish remark - all the order including Scroll would give their lives to protect the Vaults. The total loss only made their efforts seem in vain. "Which means we will need some way of better protecting the Project."

"Which brings us to our next concern," said Green. "Some of our order have went missing investigating…."

---

Scroll opened his eyes, hearing the giggling of mares to his left. He smiled, for another of the joys of the Baths were the ladies attending the place. Scroll was not a pervert - he simply liked beautiful sights. He turned his head, but soon frowned. For the mares were engaged in shaving their manes, looking into the mirrors as they helped one another. One was laughing at her now denuded scalp, a bit embarrassed if the blushing was any indication. Her friends were busy, one taking a safety razor to the lathered scalp of another.

The Scholar sighed. Several of the ponies had decided to imitate their new patron. While many ponies did not follow the trend, mane shaving was common enough that it wasn't unusual to see a bald pony. And that offended Scroll.

"Bad enough to deal with an eccentric alicorn, but Sweeper had to be bald as well!", muttered Scroll. "A pony's mane is her life."

The Frontier and the Wasteland that was on its boarder it had changed over the last three months in a subtle but very important way; it was raining regularly.

Even back when Equestria was united under the Princesses of the Sun and the Moon, getting regularly rainfall from the weather teams was somewhat of a pipe dream due to the distance from the weather factories and even then only the bigger, more wealthy towns and farms would be able to afford the service. Once the Houses were formed and the war began, the complete loss of the weather teams and their factories to House Stormwing was felt.

And yet... three months ago, clouds started to appear in the sky every few days above the dusty lands below and drenched the land with the life giving substance of water. It wasn't that heavily regulated and limited stuff either that the few non military Pegasus occasionally sprinkled on farms to keep the crops alive either, this was the real deal. Farms, small towns, cities and even empty land received a healthy dosage of rain. The Changeling dominated Wastelands also benefited from the rains, since their run off poured down the mountains and bathed sections of the formerly barren ground. Everywhere the rains touched, life seemed to quickly follow; Green shoots and small plants had sprung up all over the Frontier and the parts of the Wasteland close to the mountains, a contrast to the reds and browns of the soil around them.

No one seemed to know where the rains were coming from or why... there were plenty of theories however.

The leading theory (once it was confirmed to be truthful by Applejack herself) belonged to Toffee Apple, one of the farmers of the Apple clan. During one of the heavier rains, Toffee was just finishing up preparing his home for the coming night when he noticed a pony walking by his farm. Despite wearing a large coat and a wide brimmed hat the traveling pony seemed to be soaked to the bone. Being the kindly stallion he was and with a gut feeling that he knew this pony this traveler from somewhere, Toffee went and offered the strange stallion shelter for the night and a warm meal. The stranger happily accepted the kind offer, following Toffee back to his house and stopping just within the door so he could hang up his hat and coat while Toffee went to check on dinner.

When the farmer returned to check on his new found guest, Toffee discovered that his guest processed both wings and a horn once the traveler had removed and hung up his coat and hat. Unsure of how to deal with the situation and still feeling as if he had once met and been on good terms with the stallion in the past, Toffee introduced himself properly simply continued on with his original plan of treating the traveler as a welcomed guest. The alicorn (After introducing himself as Torrential Waters) would go on to be a polite and respectful guest, even going so far as to offer to help clean up the dinner dishes. The two also spent some time discussing recent events until, with a smile on his face, Torrential thanked Toffee for his kindness and offered him a gift. With a flash of light, Toffee blacked out.

When he woke up, Toffee found himself safely tucked away in his bed feeling quite refreshed. Torrential was nowhere to be seen and Toffee would have simply dismissed the whole thing as a strange dream if it wasn't for the fact that when he went to pour himself a drink of water he started to mutter words in a tongue not his own as if he knew them off by heart despite not understanding them. The water in his cup seemed to glow for a moment before dimming down again and when he tasted it Toffee found it to be the purest drink of water he had ever had in his life.

...............................................................................

Torrential had traveled far in the months following his arrival on the mortal plane, but as his hooves pounded away at the muddy earth beneath him his face turned to a somewhat neutral expression as he gazed towards his intended destination. The capital of the so called 'Earthborn' stood on the horizon... and the place that he was making his way towards at a relaxed but steady pace. From what he had picked up from conversations with the farmers he had been given the pleasure of meeting there was one of there number in this city that had lost her way and he had full intention of bringing her back to her roots.