> Chronicles of Deckard Cain: Equestria
>  by ThePartyCannon
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Chapter One - The Dark Cult
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	I, Deckard Cain, have come across the most peculiar sight recently. Outside of New Tristram I happened across a group of dark cultists. While at first glance they appeared to be nothing more than common rabble, a closer examination revealed to me the true nature of their evil. For some reason they were digging up the bodies of the recently deceased, most likely to be used in their rituals. If there was any-

The scribbling of the quill stopped as a blast of cold air rushed into the tiny house. Several candles in the room were snuffed out by the wind, and the curtains fluttered. Parchment flapped in the breeze, and Deckard Cain reached his frail arms out to secure it in place. Turning to face the open door, Deckard Cain saw the petite silhouette of his niece, Leah.

“Uncle, there you are!” the girl exclaimed upon seeing her elderly relative. “I was worried. We couldn’t find you anywhere in town.”

Deckard nodded his head, ignoring the girl’s worriment.

“Leah, you must look at these scrolls I found! Truly fascinating pieces of work; I found them hidden among slain cultist’s supplies. Perhaps they hold a secret pertaining to the Lords of Hell! What if they-“

“Please, Uncle, not another one of your stories. Come on, we have to get going.”

Leah gently took Deckard by the arm and lifted him from his chair. He instinctively reached for his staff, and shifted his weight upon it. Walking under his own power now, the two exited his house into the dismal streets of New Tristram.

Guards, villagers and merchants all wore the same face; despair. The rain hadn’t stopped for weeks, and had begun to take a toll on nearly everyone. Leah’s red tunic brought life to the depressing grey robes that most of the populace donned, including Deckard Cain himself. He trailed behind his niece, sloshing his cloth shoes through the muddy streets. His staff sank into the mud, creating a line through the slushy mess behind him.

Leah was leading him to the edge of town. Deckard’s recent expedition outside of New Tristram had led him to discover a cave where numerous cultists had set up their dark rituals. He had the urge to study them more closely, and perhaps investigate them for any signs of the Lords of Hell; the foes that he sought tirelessly to defeat. However, in his old age his frail figure wouldn’t stand a chance against a bloodthirsty cultist, and he resorted to hiring an out-of-town mercenary to assist him.

Deckard scratched at his thinning grey beard as they crossed a rackety wooden bridge leading outside of town. On the other side of the bridge stood a man, clad in dull grey armor. He faced towards the dark forests surrounding New Tristram, and grimaced at the low mountains on the horizon. Leah approached him from behind and tapped his shoulder.

“Excuse me,” she politely said, “are you perchance the mercenary my uncle hired?”

Behind her, Deckard waved his wrinkled hand at the armored man, who merely nodded in acknowledgement.

“Aye, that would be me.” He held out a hand clad in a thick plate gauntlet, “My name is Dalton, Paladin of Caldeum. You must be Deckard Cain, the one from the letters. It is an utmost pleasure to meet you, dear sir.”

Deckard’s hand was shaken violently by the paladin, and when he finally disconnected his handshake, it was completely numb. 

“Ah, yes. You know what you must do then, correct?” Deckard asked, his feeble voice wavering.

“I do believe so, my good man. I’m fairly certain that-“

“Well, let me explain anyway. I’m sure it would be of help.” He interrupted, leaning against his staff as he cleared his scratchy throat.

“There is a cave of cultists to the north of here. They are conducting rituals that may be involved with one of the Lords of Hell. I trust that you, a paladin, would know of the Lords of Hell.”

The paladin nodded, afraid that he would be interrupted again if he vocalized his response.

“Good. Well then, these-“ He brought a finger to his head and scratched at his bald scalp, “…Where was I?”

“Uncle, you were explaining the cave.” Leah whispered to her uncle, her face blushing as the paladin looked at the bumbling old man.

“Ah, yes! Thank you, Leah. These cultists must be stopped before they unleash any forces of Hell upon us. Leah and I shall accompany you in order to record the events that transpire. Are you ready?”

“Aye. Lead the way!” the paladin answered, unsheathing a glorious steel sword from his back. It gave off a miniscule amount of golden light, and seemed to hum with holy energy. 

Leah led the duo down the dreary cobblestone path through the forest. On either side of them, dark trees rose into the sky from the ground, obscuring the moonlight. It gave some cover from the rain, but in return formed a grim layer of blue-ish fog that obscured their vision. Faint growls and howls were heard from deep within the trees, raising Leah’s and Dalton’s heart rate. Deckard Cain, who had become accustomed to the ever-present danger of the outside world from his years of travelling, remained stalwart, and moved forward with more courage than anyone else.

As they trekked into the night, Deckard procured a large tome from inside of his satchel. Flipping it open to a random page, Deckard ran the end of his staff along the long lines of writing. The tip of his magical staff gave off enough light to read the scrawled handwriting of the elderly man, and he began to read the text aloud to Dalton, who had asked about the cultists just moments before.

“From what I’ve learned, these cultists are a contingent group of the more infamous cultists of ‘The Coven’. Whereas the Coven in this area primarily focused on Belial, the Lord of Lies, these new cultists don’t seem to have a particular Lord they worship. This fact alone is enough to bring fear to my heart; they could be serving any of the remaining Lords of Hell.” He explained as he continued to walk down the humid path.

“I see. And you wish to learn more of these mysterious cultists?” Dalton inquired.

“Precisely! No one ever concerns themselves over these threats. It is apparent that the End Days are fast approaching, and the presence of these cultists does nothing more than assure that fact further!” in front of him, Leah rolled her eyes as she listened to the old man’s rambling. She never really believed her uncle’s stories about the End Days, and it sort of embarrassed her when he talked about it to complete strangers.

But the paladin was thoroughly intrigued. “If these cultists truly were servants of the Lords of Hell, and they actually are bringing about the End Days, what do you intend to do about it?”

Deckard Cain raised a finger and intended to answer, but was interrupted by Leah, who had stopped in her tracks. Resting on the path before her was a malicious beast with a multitude of spikes covering its back. It raised its horrific head into the air and gave a ghastly shriek, chilling the bones of Leah and Dalton. Cain stepped closer, holding his staff towards the beast.

“A quill fiend!” he exclaimed almost excitedly, “And a fully mature one at that.”

It raised onto its hind legs and reeled back, preparing to fire a volley of poisonous spines at the travelers. Dalton, raising an aura of light around him, charged at the monster, letting loose a vigorous battle cry. The beast cowered backwards momentarily, before regaining its courage and charging the paladin. The two met head-on on the cobblestone path, colliding in steel and blood. Of course, the feeble quill fiend was no match for the paladin, and was soon at the mercy of the human. It lay battered and broken on the path, creating a large pool of green blood.

The paladin drove his sword through the beast’s heart, and it gave one last whimper before going limp and silent. Leah raised her hands to her mouth at the sight as the paladin withdrew his sword and wiped it clean on the damp grass. He carefully tumbled the hefty body off the path and laid it among the underbrush to the side of the road. 

“Magnificent!” Deckard said through the silence, “Now, let’s be off. The cave isn’t much farther.





Dark magic swirled through the craggy surfaces of the cave’s walls. All along the floor were large glowing runes, created through the foul sorcery of the cultists, who walked to and fro in the cave. They prepared themselves for the summoning ritual they were about to undergo; one that would bring forth a greater demon to destroy New Tristram. Hanging atop the wall above the cultists was a grotesque altar composed of the gutted remains of local game. Below it, a tall hooded figure stood, whispering words of sorcery in dark tongues.

An acolyte approached him, offering a jagged blade. It was sharp to the touch, and seemed to have an aura of shadows around it. The taller cultist snatched it away with spite towards the acolyte, who cowered away from his superior. Stepping away from the bloody altar, the tall man walked towards the summoning rune, holding the knife high above his head.

“Bring forth the bodies!” he shouted vilely to his servants. They produced a wagon of rotting and skeletal remains and proceeded to dump them into the middle of the circle. The scent of the decaying corpses filled the room in its awful aroma, but the cultists remained stalwart, creating a wide circle around them. Shadows and magic danced around the knife as the summoning commenced.

The air hummed with energy, and a bright purple light shot into the mass of bodies. It swarmed over them, encircling them in evil witchcraft. Slowly, a ring of blood-red shadows rose from the edges of the circle as the cultists swayed and chanted around it. The tall man snickered at the sight; soon he would bring forth a powerful demon, capable of withstanding every guard in New Tristram. And it was only a matter of time before he claimed the town for his dark masters.





“This looks like the place.” Leah said sullenly, gazing at the entrance of a wide cave. Dalton and Deckard stood behind her on either side, looking into the shadowy depths. The minute sound of chanting could be heard from within, and the faint static feeling of magic lingered in the air.

“Then let us press on! Fear no darkness, friends!” he shouted, running headlong into the cave, sword at the ready. Leah and Deckard Cain followed closely behind him, looking around warily at their surroundings. 

Inside the cave the stench was nearly unbearable. The combined scent of a dozen rotten bodies filled everyone’s nostrils, and made Leah sick to her stomach. Cain wavered and nearly fell, but was caught just in time by Dalton.

“This is surely the place.” He said as he lay in the paladin’s arms, attempting to stand again under his own power. Dalton transferred the elder to Leah and made his way further down the tunnels. 

Shadows faded and the stench intensified as they worked their way into the heart of the cavern. The tunnel opened into a particularly large room that reached high above their heads at least fifty feet. The walls appeared to be chiseled smooth, and several artificial passageways and alcoves were dug around the perimeter. Standing in the center of the massive space was the group of cultists. A dozen of them stood in a wide circle, swaying in unison. 

Upon seeing their numbers, Dalton shouted, “Prepare to meet the light, heathens!”

They didn’t break the ritual, which had nearly completed. Before them stood a large column of shadows, nearly reaching to the ceiling. The bodies that had previously been in the circle had deteriorated into evil magic and aided the wall of shadows in summoning a demonic beast. Dalton worked fast to disrupt their ritual.

He ran towards the closest cultist and brought his sword down. It connected with the cultist’s shoulder, and he fell to the ground in a bloody slump.

“May the light take you mercifully!” he shouted as he moved to the next cultist.

He struck down another cultist. And another. And a fourth. The cultists didn’t move as the paladin cut through their numbers, and soon only five of the initial twelve remained. But it was too late.

“It has begun.” Deckard said breathlessly, watching the column of shadows expand outward. It spread at an incredible rate, covering Dalton and the remaining cultists in its shadow. From inside the obscuring smoke, the horrific sounds of a goliath beast roared. The ground trembled and shook, and a shape could barely be seen moving about in the dark magic.

Dalton continued to work through the cultists, beginning to fear for his life as the giant demon thrashed about in the shadow magic. His field of vision was limited to only a few feet in front of him, and he blindly stumbled towards what he thought was another cultist. A shape appeared in front of him and he instinctively thrust his holy sword through the fog, striking the figure in the chest.

Immediately the shadows faded, and Dalton could clearly see a tall hooded man at the edge of his blade. Blood leaked from his robes, and the knife he wielded fell to the ground in a clatter. It disintegrated into specks of magic as it impacted the ground, fading away into the air. Hot air rocked Dalton, and he slowly turned around to face the noise of breathing.

Cain and Leah stood dumbfounded. Dalton stood miniscule against the creature that had materialized through the summoning. Its four gigantic fiery hooves stamped the ground, and its muscular back was covered in thick plates. It took the shape of an ox, but tapered off in the front into the body of a man. The man’s body was over ten feet tall and blood red. Wiry black hair sprouted from his chest and his herculean arms. The face, which closely resembled a man’s skull, was engulfed in fire, and huge tusks emerged from its mouth. Raising a large ball-and-chain weapon above its head, the beast let out a bellowing roar that rocked the cavern.

As it whirled around, looking for a human to crush, its body seemed to fade in and out. It became translucent for a minute, then phased back into a solid form. Perhaps the summoning hadn’t completed fully, and it was stuck in the plane between the earthly realm and Hell. Or perhaps it was a natural occurrence for the demon, and acted as a defense mechanism against its enemies. Nevertheless, it didn’t slow the demon and it soon spotted Dalton.

The paladin was no match for the demon, and only had time to utter a small prayer before the creature’s colossal metal instrument crushed him. Leah gasped in horror and Cain turned his head away from the sight. The demon seemed to mock the human’s feebleness and soon turned towards the remaining duo of humans. Taking Cain by his thin arm, Leah harshly pulled him out of the summoning room and through the winding tunnels of the cavern, screaming incoherently as she went. Deckard stumbled and attempted to keep up, continually looking behind him and hearing the bawling cries of the murderous beast.

The cool air of the night brought sweet relief to the pair as they exited the cave, and as they gasped for breath, Deckard spoke up.

“A demon! They summoned a greater demon! But for what purpose?” he inquired through shrieking breaths for air.

“Uncle, there are far more important things to worry about right now! We have to warn New Tristram!” Leah protested, trying to drag Cain further down the road. But he remained where he was, surprisingly strong in his resistance. 

He reached into his satchel and pulled out a quill and parchment. Hastily, he scrawled a few lines on it, reading aloud as he did so.

“Just as I had predicted, the previously mentioned cultists had summoned forth a servant of the Lords of Hell. As of now, the beast remains unknown to my knowledge, and-“

Leah got behind Deckard and pushed him down the cobblestone path, managing to move him several feet before the old man stopped his writing. 

“Leah! Why are you in such a rush? The demon is trapped in the cave; there’s no way out. He’s far too-“

Bright light forced the two to shield their eyes as the air ignited in front of them. A circle of fire formed in the air, perpendicular with the grassy ground. As it levitated and burned in the air, the beast’s cries could be heard as loudly as before. Leah fell to the ground, hiding behind her uncle as the demon’s tusked head protruded from the fiery portal. It galloped out, leaving a trail of fire in its thunderous hoof-prints. It flexed its muscular arms as it trotted in circles around the duo, cutting off their escape in a ring of fire. Its shifting between realms had intensified and became so consistent that Cain came to the conclusion that it wasn’t technically in their world at all.

Leah reached to her side and pulled out a small dagger. It was a dainty weapon, and would provide no protection against the hulking monstrosity, but she felt safer and braver with it unsheathed. The beast seemed to laugh at Leah’s attempt of security, and charged towards her. She turned her head away and tears fell from her eyes as she felt the deafening tremors of the demon’s hooves quickly approaching her. She peered through one eye at her uncle, who stood with his staff held towards the demon.

Enveloping itself in a growing blue light, Deckard’s staff glowed with an intensity that rivaled that of the demon’s fiery gaze. He pointed it straight at the charging demon, and let loose a volley of arcane magic. Streaming towards the demon in gracious arcs, they lit the night sky in a smooth blue light, contrasting with the orange blaze of the demonic flames. A hollow ‘whump’ sounded through the air as the magic missiles impacted the demon’s bright red skin in the middle of his chest. It faltered, and changed course at the last second, leaving Leah mostly unscathed.

As the beast turned around, it shifted almost completely out of existence. Deckard knew that if he could just hold it off for just a moment longer it would be sent back to the realms of Hell where it belonged. But his Horadric magic was dwindling, and he wasn’t sure if he could make another attack that would be strong enough to rout the demon. He took a deep breath as the beast charged again, this time straight for him. The end of his staff gave off faint sparks, but no missiles.

Violently shoving Leah out of the way, Cain stood right in the path of the demon, which had begun to glow with a faint purple aura as he shifted planes for a final time. The large metal ball-and-chain descended towards Deckard, who flinched away from the incoming impact. It was just a few feet from him when it was violently sucked backwards in a torrent of wind. He looked up through weary eyes to see the muscular hulk of the demon being pulled backwards into a glowing purple portal. It scraped its sharp nails along the ground, creating large gashes in the stone path. 

It howled with bestial vigor as the portal devoured it in an endless tide of magic. Tendrils of shadow snaked their way out of the portal and wrapped themselves around the demon’s shoulders and neck, forcing the monster into the gateway with terrifying brutality. The intensity of the portal had created a vortex of shrieking wind, which tore at the ends of Deckard’s robe. Loose parchment flew from his open satchel and violently raced through the portal.

After the screams of the demon died down and it had been completely torn through the gateway to the nether, Deckard Cain looked up. The portal remained open and maintained the shrieking vortex. Loose stones and branches were sucked into its gaping maw, which shone with a brighter magic than ever before. Deckard’s frail body wavered at the force of the wind, and his feet slid along the ground a few feet. To his side he could hear the worried cries of his niece, but never saw her shape through the debris that flew past him. 

When Cain slid a few more feet, the portal began to dwindle. However, do to the concentration of magic, the vortex only increased. Cain could hear the cracking of wooden bark, and heard some of the smaller trees beginning to uproot themselves. He could hold his position no longer, and let his legs go limp, tumbling painlessly towards the portal among the multitude of debris. 

“Uncle!” Leah shouted from the safety of the forest as she watched her feeble uncle being swept up by the powerful winds. His body disappeared through the swirling jaws of the portal, and as he did so it collapsed in upon itself. Massive shockwaves rocked the land, swaying the trees and completely destroying some of the smaller ones. Leah could hear the nearby cave starting to collapse as she began to sob violently. She pounded her fists against the soft grass, crying continually,

“Uncle… Uncle… Uncle…” 





Deckard survived tumbling through the portal, unsurprisingly. Portals were generally harmless creations. But despite their outstanding safety records, he still loathed portal travel. It always made his head hurt having to move from one spot to a completely different spot, sometimes miles away, in a matter of a few seconds. As the world formed around him, his head hurt like never before. 

That’s quite a distance then… Deckard though to himself as his vision began to return to normal. The portal must have sent him thousands of miles, if not more, in order to make his head ache with such intensity. He closed his eyes, attempting to soothe the pain in his head, but to no avail. The ache continued without mercy. Rubbing his temples, Deckard tried to roll over. The dry grass beneath him crunched, both from his movements and of something else.

The elderly man ceased the rubbing and slowly opened his eyes. The harsh light of the morning did nothing to help his headache as he stared into the sky above him. He could hear the footfalls of someone coming towards him, and as the figure approached closer, Deckard addressed it,

“Thank goodness I’ve been found!” he exclaimed, “I come from-“

“HO-GEEZ! IT TALKS!” the figured shouted.

Deckard’s heart raced as he craned his neck towards the newcomer. It cowered in the grass before him, kneeling as low to the ground as possible. The stetson hat that rest atop his head was askew and his brown hair was a mess. Sheepishly, the golden equine raised his head from out of the grass and stared at Deckard with eyes the size of dinner plates, before falling backwards and landing in the grass unconscious. 

Within seconds, Deckard Cain did the same. 
> Chapter Two - Name's Braeburn
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	The glowing staff lay among piles of leaves and underbrush in the midst of a dark forest. The only light came solely from the magical staff. The sun never shone through the dense canopy, nor did it penetrate through the massive walls of trees that surrounded the area. From the depths of the shadows, creatures moved cautiously around the object, eyeing it with increased interest. They crashed through the dense vegetation as the staff’s power drew them out of their dens.

A massive bulk moved past the sheepish animals and approached the staff directly. Its large lion head sniffed the air around the object, and its scorpion tail whipped through the air. Nostrils flared and whiskers twitched as the light from the staff intensified, revealing scores of creatures hiding among the low brush. Upon seeing the intruders, the large manticore arched its back and snarled viciously. It wrapped its massive segmented tail around the staff and lifted it from the ground, guarding it from the thieving animals.

Muscular legs pumped as the beast charged through the forest, splintering trees and fallen logs as it sprinted in a random direction. Curious or persistent animals pursued it through the brush, weaving through the dense trees with ease. The manticore had but a moment to look behind at his hunters. Beasts of all shapes and sized followed the manticore. A pack of timber wolves bounded through the well-known forest paths, and gigantic bats flew overhead, screeching as they went. 

The staff’s light pulsed, drawing more and more creatures in with its magic. An armada of beasts thundered into a glade in the forest, relishing the open space. The soft morning sun shone through the breach in the canopy, highlighting the formerly bright green grass in the area. Blackened and charred, the glade was but a shadow of its former self. The creatures seemed to ignore the destruction of the glade, and proceeded to run straight through it, weaving around the monstrous legs of the brute.

It stamped its hooves, scattering one or two of the creatures. Fire billowed from its mouth as it let out a horrific roar towards the heavens. In the distance, birds retreated from the treetops from the thunderous cries. The sky itself darkened, creating a swirling maw of black clouds over the glade. Fire rained from the heavens, bathing the glade in its destructive blanket.

As the burning rain descended upon them, the animals scurried into the safety of the forest. The manticore, still carrying the staff in its scorpion tail, was the first to disappear into the obscuring underbrush, followed shortly by the masses of creatures all drawn by the staff’s magic. The demon himself turned towards the manticore, investigating the powerful object it held in its grasp. Rage boiled from the pit of his stomach and rose higher and higher. The fire atop his skulled head exploded upward in fury.

The weapon of that foolish mortal man rested momentarily before his eyes, and vanished into the forest. Crying out in anger, the demon ran to the tree line of the glade and began to smash the closest trees under his might. Slowly, he began to cut the forest down in pursuit of the hated staff. 





Braeburn woke up after a few moments. Dozily he rose to his hooves and straightened his hat. Lying in the grass a few feet away from him was the… thing. It was now dozing heavily, snoring contentedly as if nothing had happened. Carefully, Braeburn approached the hairless creature. It reminded him of pictures of monkeys he had seen, only less… messy. In fact he seemed rather clean, despite being so far from any pony town.

Braeburn cautiously poked his robed arm, causing the elderly thing to snore heavily and mumble in his sleep. 

“What in the hay are ya?” he asked, not expecting an answer from the sleepy thing before him. However it did answer, much to Braeburn’s horror, and he recoiled back to the sanctity of the tall grass.

“Cain!” he said in his sleep before rolling onto his side, revealing his satchel he had strapped across his back.

“What in Equestria is a ‘Cain’?” Braeburn asked again. He remembered his aunt, Granny Smith, back in Ponyville. She had a cane. But why would this silly looking thing be talking about his aunt? Braeburn shook his head in confusion. Eventually his eyes landed on the satchel and widened with curiosity. Perhaps he had some clues in his saddlebag.

He reached his muzzle into the satchel and moved around, looking for anything of use. But all he managed to turn up was some yellow parchment that had been scribbled on and some smelly food. He frowned. What kind of animal walks around in the middle of the plains with nothing but paper and bread?

As Braeburn plopped down on the grass, the thing stirred in his sleep. It rolled over and faced him, causing the stallion to squirm at the repulsive sight. The skin of the creature’s face was hanging off his bones in large wrinkles, and his liver-spotted head sprouted thin grey hairs. The only substantial hair that could be seen was his long grey beard that hung down to the middle of his chest. Its nose in particular fascinated Braeburn. It was like nothing he had ever seen. So sleek. So… perfected. Completely opposite to the large bulky nose that he flaunted on the end of his own snout.

It was then that the creature opened its tiny eyes. Braeburn struggled to keep his ground as the creature stared at him, obviously with a lust for blood in his eyes. It sat up and the bones in his back popped back into place. From its throat it let out a guttural, hacking cough before turning to the stallion. Braeburn was sure that it was about to charge, and furrowed his brow in defense. Of course this was merely a formality; he knew that he had no chance of survival should the creature take him as a threat.

But it never did, and instead reached for Braeburn’s hat. He swiped it off with surprising dexterity.

“Why in the world would someone give a horse a hat?” the thing seemed to ask to himself. The mere sound of the creature’s voice sent chilling waves down Braeburn’s spine. It spoke with such vileness of a hydra, and with twice the vigor of a minotaur. It was more terrifying than he thought.

“Ah… That’s mah hat!” Braeburn managed to stutter, expecting a retaliatory strike from the beast, which was turning the hat over in his hands. Braeburn wasn’t dumb; he knew what hands were. He had personally experienced their dexterous splendor when his cousin, Applejack, and her friends had come into Appleloosa. They had brought a tiny dragon with them, and his clawed hands at first fascinated Braeburn. But, after some careful consideration, he passed them off as unnecessarily complex, and preferred the use of hooves. 

“How remarkable! A horse capable of complex speech!” he exclaimed, giggling like a little girl, “Is this some sort of spell? Polymorph, perhaps? Or some kind of illusionary magic?”

Braeburn raised his head, reluctantly, and looked the thing in the face. Immediately he turned away from the horrid sight and chose to look at the clouds above him.

“Ah beg yer pardon?” he replied.

“What are you?” the creature asked flatly. Braeburn sensed that the creature was growing un-amused, and would soon strike. 

“B-Braeburn! Mah name’s Braeburn!”

“Braeburn? And what realm are you from, friend?”

Braeburn looked down at the creature, staring him in the eyes. Confused thoughts raced through his mind. Before him sat a beastly creature, capable of unknown amounts of torment and destruction, and it had just referred to him as a ‘friend’. For a while he didn’t feel disgusted by the creature’s unkempt face, and managed to see the kindness that lay in his glistening eyes.

“Did… Did you jus’ call me a… friend?” he asked, dumbfounded.

“Of course!” the thing responded, “After all, as long as your not possessed by demons, or serving demonic lords, or in affiliation with any kind of demon of less-than-admirable alignment, then you’re a friend to me! Even if you have been turned into a horse…”

Braeburn smiled He knew the importance of friendship, and for such a monstrous creature to call him a friend after only minutes of meeting him warmed his heart, “That’s mighty kind of you ta say… sir? I’m from Appleloosa.”

The thing wrinkled its nose at the mention of the town, “I can’t say I’m familiar with that… Where is it in relation to New Tristram? Or Caldeum?”

“Uh… Ah dunno. Ah don’t get outta Appleloosa much. Ya’ll can ask Sheriff Silverstar though; he knows a lot. I betcha he can tell ya about whatever ya’ll are wonderin’.” Braeburn explained.

The thing nodded before standing up, with some difficulty. He towered above Braeburn, who only came up to the middle of his stomach. He did seem to act an awful lot like a minotaur, and he started to believe that this creature was just a deformed minotaur of some sort.

“By the way, what’s yer name?” he asked as the frail creature began to walk alongside Braeburn as they began their long journey back to town.

“My name is Deckard Cain.” He answered. 





Trees were uprooted in a violent spew of dirt and bark. Logs were hewn across the path and scattered boulders shattered under the fury of the demonic hulk as it crashed through the forest, pursuing the staff. It had already travelled far from his reaches, but he knew there would be no place on this earth where it could hide. He would find it, and the man who wielded it, as one last act of vengeance.

Miles ahead of him, the manticore pressed on, staff still tightly clenched in its tail. Behind it, the roars and cries of the dreaded beast echoed through the trees. The creatures had ceased chasing the staff shortly after the monster appeared, and now the manticore was all alone running through the vegetation. It had travelled far from where it started, and didn’t recognize the surrounding area. The trees around here were thinner, and not nearly as dense and fresh air was more abundant.

Sunlight peered through the trees ahead of the manticore, and it sprinted in its direction, yearning for open spaces. It bounded out of the forest into a grassy plain. Heart racing, the manticore flung itself onto the ground out of exhaustion. On the crest of the hill the manticore could see everything. In the distance were the extensive mountain ranges that ponies tended to inhabit, and down below in a valley was a small multitude of houses.

Feeling the need to rest, the manticore shut its eyes and began to drift off. Its segmented tail eased its grasp on the staff, dropping it to the ground where it rolled down the hill a short way. Then it began to pulse again.





Must… Clean!

The floor was covered in ashes and burnt papers.

She can’t notice!

The broom and dustpan were nowhere to be found.

Where is it?

Then it hit him. He had lent it to Pinkie Pie after her oven exploded.

Twilight is gonna kill me!

The tiny dragon ran about the library, searching frantically for a vacuum, or a dishtowel, or anything to clean up the mess he had just made. Why did Princess Celestia have to send a letter at that moment! He had been experimenting (goofing off) with Twilight’s chemistry set when Celestia sent out a seemingly pointless letter, and as Spike belched it out in magical fire, it ignited the burner he had set up. In turn, the burner caught fire to a stack of papers that he was supposed to clean up. The fire, though manageable and easy to put out, had destroyed several pages of Twilight’s paper she had been writing.

Sweeping the ashes underneath a rug with his claw, Spike warily looked around, afraid that the unicorn would come barging through the door any second, ready to flay the dragon alive for his insubordination. He gritted his teeth as the pile of ash beneath the rug grew to a noticeable size. There would be no way to hide it. Acting on the first thought to come to mind, Spike took as much ashes as he could in his stubby little claws and rushed upstairs.

As he arrived upstairs he scanned the room as fast as he could for a hiding spot. Chests were aplenty, and several small crevices lurked in the corners of the room. Then he saw the perfect spot, right next to the empty wastebasket. Running as fast as he could, Spike reached the bed and tossed the pile of ashes underneath it, hiding them in the clutter that lurked beneath. He repeated the transfer of ashes several times until the floor downstairs was mostly bare.

He wiped the sweat off his brow as he leaned against the library’s front door. He looked out at his frantic work and commended himself for doing such a good job in hiding his blunder. As he waddled off to perform some other chore, the door violently swung open behind him, nearly smacking him across the room. In the doorway stood the familiar unicorn. She wore a goofy grin on her face as she trotted inside, leading the equally familiar rainbow pegasus behind her.

The cyan pegasus hovered above Twilight as the two made their way towards a long bookshelf on the other side of the room. Spike ran to his friend’s side, ready to apologize at any second.

“Oh, hi Spike.” Twilight said, hardly noticing him. He let out a sigh of relief and replied.

“Hey Twilight. Watch’ya doing?”

“Twilight’s getting me the next Daring-Do book!” the pegasus answered happily, waving her colorful mane back and forth with excitement. Wrapped in her hooves was a book that was a little tattered around the edges. Spike clearly recognized it as one of the numerous Daring-Do stories that Twilight kept along the shelf, though he couldn’t tell which one it was.

“Here you go, Rainbow Dash.” Twilight said rather formally as she levitated a book towards her friend. The cloud of magic surrounding the book dissipated, and it fell into Rainbow Dash’s hooves.

“Daring-Do and the Wendigo Shrine? Awesome!” Rainbow exclaimed before bolting out of the library, leaving a trail of bright rainbows in her wake. Twilight rushed after her, excited to continue their reading-filled day. Stopping suddenly in her tracks, she turned to Spike.

“Spike, do you remember that paper I was writing?”

“Uh…” he replied; sweat beginning to bead on his forehead.

“You know, the one with all the science and math and stuff?” she continued.

“I… Uh… Don’t know what you’re talking about.” He chuckled nervously and shifted his gaze towards the upstairs.

“Oh. Well if you find it, you can toss it out. I don’t need it anymore.” She smiled at Spike and ran outside, attempting to catch up with her friend. 

Spike’s eye twitched uncontrollably.

“Of course…” he grumbled.

As he watched Twilight gallop away, a strange sensation began to well up inside the pit of his stomach. He looked around, not sure what was happening. It felt comforting, but not in a good way. It felt like being inside a safe little bunker while a deadly storm raged outside. It almost felt like he was in danger. As ludicrous as the notion was, Spike couldn’t help but find the source of the worriment. 

Repeatedly he looked out the window towards the edge of town where the Everfree Forest lurked on the horizon. Cloudy skies hung over the feared place, and Spike could tell that it was about to rain over there. As he gazed upon the tree line, the feeling in his stomach increased higher and higher. Working the metaphorical gears in his head, Spike soon connected his strange feelings with the Everfree Forest, after some cognitive strain.

“Well…” he began to himself, “It couldn’t hurt anything.”

Spike rushed out the door and headed for the edge of the Everfree Forest, trying his best to remain unnoticed by anypony.





Braeburn allowed himself some time to associate with the newcomer as they progressed towards Appleloosa. It was still several miles away, and they probably wouldn’t arrive until late in the afternoon. As the sun hung high above their heads, Braeburn enlightened Deckard Cain on the entire history of Appleloosa. The Horadrim, being the naturally curious man he was, chronicled every last word Braeburn spoke. 

“-some time ‘bout a year and a half ago. And ever since, Appleloosa has been the prized town of the frontier.”

Clumsily holding his book in one hand and his ink and quill in the other, Cain scribbled the words down as fast as possible. His new friend almost never took a break from talking, and would often get extremely off-track with his stories. Unfortunately for Braeburn, he had never explained that he was, in fact, truly a pony and not just a form of magic. Nor had he explained that there was an entire race of ponies across the land, for that matter; it just seemed like common knowledge to Braeburn, and he felt no need to explain something as universally known as that. Deckard Cain had no idea of the strange expanse of the world around him.

“So yeah, that’s really ‘bout all there is to know ‘bout Appleloosa. I’ll show ya’ll the high points of it when we get there.” The stallion explained.

“Wonderful! Tell me, do you possess horses in your town? You know, real horses, and not polymorphic horses.”

“Uh… Well there’re ponies, if that’s what you mean. There’s lots in Appleloosa. Why’d ya ask?”

“It’s just that, as much as I’d love to visit your town for a while, I really must be getting back to New Tristram. Horses are the fastest transportation.” Deckard explained, his tone becoming sorrier as he spoke.

“Ya mean ya ain’t gonna stay?” Braeburn asked, hurt by Deckard’s unintentional insult.

“I’d love to, but now just isn’t the time. Doom lurks over my town, and it’s my job to prevent it!”

Braeburn lost his sad demeanor, and switched back to a curious one, “Really? What kinda job do ya’ll do?”

“I’m a Horadric mage. The last of them, to be exact…” he explained with a heavy voice.

Reluctantly, Braeburn continued his questioning, despite knowing that this may not be the best road to go down, “What happened to ‘em?”

“They died.” He said plainly, losing much of the sadness in his voice.

“Ah’m sorry.” Braeburn replied, not sure of how to continue. Instead he looked around the flat desert expanse, studying the nigh-invisible signs of progress. The sun had moved ever so slightly from its previous position directly overhead, and now shone down on them from their left. Braeburn’s hat had covered his voluptuous mane, and his head was nice and cool. But as he looked at Deckard, he could clearly tell the turmoil he was going through. Sweat formed along his bald head in fat droplets, and he seemed to be breathing very heavily.

Braeburn felt sorry for the mage. First, all of his friends died, and then he gets thrown into the middle of the desert with no hat. Tipping his own stetson off his head and taking it in his mouth, he raised his face to Cain. His upturned head only reached Deckard’s ribcage. Upon seeing the donation, Deckard took the hat in his own wrinkled hand,

“Thank you, dear Braeson.” He said.

“It’s Braeburn.”

“That’s what I said.” Corrected the man as he placed the stetson atop his sweaty head. It was far too small for him, and merely rested atop his aged scalp. Still, it provided more than enough protection from the sun, despite looking very comical.

“So, Braeburn,” continued Deckard, careful of how to pronounce the stranger’s name, “Why were you so far from Appleloosa to begin with? One does not simply leave town to venture in the midst of the desert alone. Especially when polymorphed!”

“Oh, right. Well, ya see… Ah, uh…” he stuttered, “…Sheriff Silverstar! He wanted me ta go get some… firewood! And the only trees for firewood are way out there.”

Deckard Cain nodded in acknowledgment, and gazed upon a few dead trees on the horizon. Braeburn’s forced smile worried Cain. Could this horse-turned-man actually be a bandit? Is this all an elaborate-

“So ya’ll say yer a mage. What does that entail?” Braeburn asked quickly, trying to change the subject as fast as possible.

“Well, I practice in the arcane arts of magic and summoning. I’ve become particularly-“

“Magic!” Braeburn interrupted, “Ah love magic! What kinda magic can ya’ll do?”

“I was getting to that. I mostly perform arcane magic, focusing primarily on enchanting and identification of mystical items. Aside from that, I’ve become quite fond of portals. Making them, I mean, not travelling through them. That part isn’t nearly as fun.” He explained, shivering at the mention of portal travel.

“Huh, that’s cool.” Braeburn said, understanding very little of what Deckard had just said, “Can ya’ll do some magic? Jus’ so I can watch.” Braeburn asked, his eyes lighting up like a young colt’s.

“I would be honored to, if I was able. However, upon my entering of this world, my staff, the source of my magic, has been disconnected from me. Alas, without my staff, my magical ability is limited.”

Braeburn looked to the ground, saddened, “Oh… That’s alright. Hey!” he exclaimed, gaining an idea in his head, “I met this one magic-usin’ folk when mah cousin Applejack came into Appleloosa. Her name was Twilight, er somethin’ like that, Ah didn’t get to talk to her much. Anyway, she was real good at magic, bein’ the Princess’s student an’ all. Ah betcha she could help ya’ll out with yer magic.”

Deckard shook his head, “Doubtful. Unless she possessed my Horadric Staff, I don’t think there would be any way she could help. I appreciate the-“

“Aw shucks, sure she could! Tell ya’ll what, after we spend the night in Appleloosa, we’ll take the train down to Ponyville! Ah’m sure ah’m just a bit overdue for a visit with cousin Applejack anyway.”

Deckard Cain stopped in his tracks, billowing tiny dust clouds behind him. He wrinkled his nose at the pony in confusion.

“What’s a train?” he asked.





It was mid afternoon, and Twilight’s reading session with Rainbow Dash had ended in complete success. As she walked back to the library, she thought to herself,

If Rainbow keeps up at that pace she’ll be done with the entire series within a month!

Despite this being a problem for Rainbow, Twilight found the situation to be a splendid one. For one, somepony would actually read the Daring-Do stories, instead of letting them sit and gather dust on the bookshelf. And second, it helped Rainbow Dash. Everypony knew that she wasn’t as good at reading as she was at flying or boasting, and Twilight saw Daring-Do as the first step on the road to higher knowledge. After all, Reading is fun! 

She quietly hummed as she trotted along down the streets of Ponyville. Summer was on the horizon, and she could tell that everypony was excited. Ponies happily conversed on the street, and young fillies played various schoolyard games. Everywhere she looked she saw a happy face. Save for one; the library.

It was empty. Nopony seemed to want to go to the library. Occasionally Twilight’s friends would visit her there, but those were rare occasions, like when Rainbow needed a book, or when Pinkie wanted to interrupt something. She almost never had any company outside of friends visit the library, and the only comfort she had while there (aside from the seemingly endless flow of books) was Spike. Hardworking to the end, Spike was always there for her when she needed him. This fact alone brought a smile to the unicorn’s face as she walked inside the library-tree.

“Spike!” she called out as she stepped inside, “I’m home!”

She waited a few seconds to hear the pitter-patter of his scaly feet on the floor.

And then waited a few more.

And a few more.

“Spike?” she beckoned, after the silence persisted. Was he out doing chores? Doubtful; he always finished his outside chores in the morning.

Twilight shrugged.

He must be out goofing off. She thought as she investigated Spike’s work on his chores, Oh well, he deserves it; he did a nice job on his chores.

Finally Twilight heard the noise of pattering feet upstairs, followed shortly by something heavy falling over. Worrying more about property damage than her assistant, Twilight rushed up the stairs towards the noise. She threw the door open, bathing the room in the soft light of downstairs. The windows had been covered, and all the lanterns were snuffed out.

“Spike? Are you alright? Why’s it so dark?” Twilight asked, fumbling around to find a lantern or some other form of light. 

The only reply she received was the rapid scratching sound of claws on the floor. They rushed towards her, and she stopped in her tracks. Straining her eyes to see through the dark, Twilight followed the sound across the room as it passed by her, creating a soft breeze as it sped past her legs.

“Spike, what are you doing?” she asked, channeling her magic through her horn. Slowly, the room was filled with the glow of Twilight’s magic as she scanned the room for the cowardly dragon. A shadow flew across the area, escaping Twilight’s artificial light.

With the light illuminating every corner of the room, Twilight was able to gather her bearings. The floor was cluttered with paper, books, and a fallen lectern, which must have caused the large thud. Blankets were stuffed in the windows, preventing the sun’s rays from penetrating into the room. 

“Spike, come out. I’m not mad.” Twilight urged politely. She genuinely wasn’t mad; accidents happened all the time and she was sure that Spike had a perfectly justified explanation of what happened. But the figure in front of her quickly changed her mind. She was barely able to register the black shape as it charged her. All she knew was that it was larger than Spike, but not by much, and that its eyes glowed red. Its long-snouted face snarled with rage, baring its jagged, needle-like teeth. It approached Twilight with blinding speed, and large serrated talons extended outwards. 

The scaled fiend lunged at Twilight, babbling in strange tongues as it did so. Its black, scaly hide brushed against the unicorn’s coat as she barely managed to duck underneath the flying monster. Twilight turned, horn at the ready, and prepared to fend off the monster with a barrage of magic. Recovering from the fall, the tiny creature swiveled around on one clawed foot and stared at the pony.

Twilight’s heart raced as she stared at the creature before her. It was skinny, with long lanky limbs tipped with razor sharp talons on the ends. Its black scales shimmered under the light of Twilight’s magic. Atop its head rest two tiny sets of horns, each curling around the sides of its reptilian face. Its gaping mouth flaunted rows upon rows of tiny barbed teeth, each yearning to the taste of warm flesh.

Without warning, the unidentified creature charged at Twilight, letting forth a tiny bestial cry. Clouds of smoke billowed from the creature’s back as it launched itself into the air, high above Twilight’s head, before descending upon the unicorn for the final time.

> Chapter Three - Demons in Equestria
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Tiny screeches filled the library. Twilight’s hooves scraped across the wooden floor as she fought off the unknown creature. It was powerful; far more powerful than Twilight would have judged from its size. She could feel its sharp talons slashing at her coat, working their way through the soft purple hair. Sharp pain ensued, followed by the warm sensation of blood leaking out of the open wounds.

The source of the pain was nothing more than a black blur swooping and diving around the room, moving so fast that Twilight never had more than a few seconds at a time to look at it. She flung magic into the darkness of the library, aiming for shadows and dark crevices in an attempt to hit the vanishing beast. Scorch marks littered the room from where Twilight’s haywire attacks hit, but revealed no monster.

Harsh, uneven breathing rapidly approached Twilight from behind. She turned, revealing an unguarded opening on her side. The heavy weight of the little creature impacted Twilight hard in the side of the belly, sending her flying to the floor in a heap. Shadows engulfed her as a thick black smoke blanketed the floor, covering everything in darkness. She strained her eyes to see the movement past the black fog, and finally saw her target.

It moved unimaginably fast, seeming to fly across the floor on invisible wings. Calculating the monster’s speed and distance across the floor, and factoring in the force and speed of her magic, she figured out the precise trajectory at which to shoot, taking only milliseconds to solve the problem. Leading the target by nearly four feet, Twilight let off a massive bolt of magic, which soared through the air with a loud humming sound. She couldn’t see the impact, but could hear the injured shrieks of the beast as it hit the wooden floor.

Quickly rising out of the black fog, Twilight ran towards the location of the body. It would only be stunned momentarily, and she had to act fast in order to restrain the monster before it could do any more damage. But as she arrived at the body’s location, she found nothing. It had already recovered at an alarming rate, and was now-

Twilight was grappled from behind as the creature landed atop her back. It wrapped its sharp talons around her neck and squeezed, attempting to choke the life out of the unicorn. It gnawed on Twilight’s ear with its razor sharp teeth, drawing a small amount of blood, which helped fuel its carnage. It let out another shriek, and was about to bury its teeth into Twilight once more when a new noise drew its attention away from his prey.

Light rushed into the dark room, illuminating the entire scene. The black smoke had dissipated and no longer obscured the beast. The monster could sense the figure in the doorway, even before her high pitched shrieks bombarded its ears. The presence of the intruder broke its concentration just long enough for Twilight to reach around. She grabbed the tiny demon by the forearm with her teeth and flung him to the ground. Pointing her horn at the grounded monster, she created a barrier of pure magical energy, which completely enclosed the little creature.

Trapped inside its magical prison, the demon began to howl in misery. The barrier muffled its cries, making them sound tired and weak. From behind Twilight, the shrieking started again. She turned to see the alabaster unicorn cowering in the doorway, stamping her hooves in repulsion of the little demon. Her mane was waving back and forth as she shook her head harshly from side to side, as if the repetitive motion would somehow cleanse her mind of what she had just witnessed. Her speech was fragmented and disarrayed, and she seemed to be rambling out random noises. The saddlebags she was wearing had fallen to the floor in an uneven pile, spewing forth miscellaneous fashion supplies.

After noticing the monster had been dealt with, it took her close to five minutes to calm down and catch her breath. Her purple mane was askew atop her head, causing a few loose strands of her carefully managed hair to hang down in her face. Breathing harshly, Rarity managed to point a hoof at the creature and stammer out,

“What… is that…?”

Twilight shook her head and sat down next to the white unicorn, “I… have no clue.”

Rarity shakily reached into her saddlebags and procured a long strand of blue ribbon.

“Do you think it’s a dragon? I’ve never heard of dragons looking like that before.” She asked, her voice laden with panic, as she hastily wrapped the ribbon around Twilight’s bleeding ear. She stopped, tilted her head and narrowed her eyes at the blue fabric, and withdrew it from Twilight’s head. Setting it neatly on the floor, she reached back into her bags and pulled out a red ribbon, before carefully continuing the treatment of Twilight’s wounds.

“Neither have I.” Twilight responded, “A better question is; where did it come from?”

Rarity shrugged as she finished tying the cloth around Twilight’s wound, treating it better than most doctors would have. She blinked hard as she stared at the demon, which was beating against the magical barrier with its tiny fists. It certainly was a repulsive creature.

“It’s certainly a repulsive creature.” Rarity said flatly, going over the monster’s foreign features.

“No kidding… Rarity, do you know where Spike is?” Twilight asked, noticing the distinct lack of dragon throughout the library.

“No, dear, I don’t. I’m sure he’ll turn up.” Rarity comforted, never taking her eyes off the monster. It seemed to mock her from behind the barrier.

“Oh.” Twilight sighed, “I hope he does.” 





Spike reached the edge of the Everfree Forest just as the sun disappeared behind the mountains. The strange feeling in his stomach had intensified to extreme levels. He started to sway back and forth with blurred vision, but somehow knew exactly where to go. With no err to his path, the little dragon descended a low hill. Through his blurred vision he could see a light laying on the ground in front of him, and he tapped it gently with his foot.

As he came into contact with the light source, his insides surged with a powerful feeling of dread. He whipped his head around, cowering under his chubby arms, and looked to the skies. Shadows danced across the fields, displaying horrific shapes of monsters and demons, all unknown to Spike. Strange bestial noises arose from every direction, drawing closer and closer to Spike. He looked around for something to use to defend himself; a stick, a rock, anything! He grabbed the first thing in reach, which happened to be a long, thick stick. 

It was heavier and longer than he anticipated, and he almost dropped it as he brought it to his miniscule height. On the end of his new weapon was the glowing light, and before he could even realize what he had grabbed, the feeling in his stomach had dissipated. New life flowed through the dragon’s body as he pointed the long staff towards the writhing shadows. They faded away from the soft blue light that emanated from the staff, and Spike felt renewed confidence. As he tightened his clawed hands around the stick, he felt a fire rise up inside of him. Feelings of confidence and bravery seemed to surge through every pore in his body, and Spike’s eyes faintly glowed blue with arcane energy.

From his side, Spike could hear something coming out of the Everfree Forest. He peered into the darkness, trying to use the staff’s light to illuminate the dark trees. The cries came from deep in the forest, and sounded incredibly distraught. Overcome by the new feeling of power, Spike ran into the dreaded forest with unusual confidence, staff held forward. It was nearly four times his height, and would have weighed a ton, but the magic that it radiated engulfed Spike in a strange sort of power. He wasn’t stronger, just… better.

As he progressed towards the sound, he could begin to make out what it was. It was a pony of some sort, that much was certain. It cried in a high-pitched voice, too high to belong to a stallion. Fearing for the mare’s life, Spike increased his pace, his tiny legs moving vigorously through the dense underbrush. Twigs and branches whipped his face, and creepers and vines wrapped around his heels, attempting to slow him down. But he violently tore through them, not allowing anything to hold him back.

The screams were growing louder as he progressed into the darkness. He could see a tiny light ahead, and assumed that that was where the cries were originated from. Sprinting to his destination, Spike soon emerged in an opening of the trees. The light he had previously seen came from blazing trees, which cracked and burned with intense heat. He turned around, staff held forward, looking for the source of the screams. But nothing could be seen in any direction; just a path of felled trees nearly twelve feet wide.

“Huh…” Spike mumbled to himself, loosening his grip on the staff. It pulsed as the screams tore across the horizon again. They were closer than ever, and sounded as if they were coming from right next to him, but nopony was anywhere in sight. 

The dragon’s heart rate increased to dangerous levels as the ground beneath him began to rumble and quake. Out of a space between a patch of trees loomed a massive bulky shape. Its four hooves were familiar to Spike, but they were like nothing he had ever seen. They were more of something out of a nightmare. Covered in thick, shaggy brown hair, the hooves stamped on the ground, creating small explosions of flames. Sprouting from the front of the oxen-like body was a tall column of pure muscle. Between its broad shoulders was a tusked skull, bathed in flame. From its decrepit jawbone it screeched out a noise so eerily similar to a pony’s shrieks that it chilled Spike’s heart.

The gargantuan figure slowly walked to the tiny dragon that lay before it. Its empty eye sockets stared at the weapon the dragon held feebly in its claws, and rage boiled inside the demon. The fiery hooves placed themselves just a few feet from Spike, who remained bravely stalwart in his position, not even flinching at the sight of the monstrous demon. Kneeling down to Spike’s tiny level, the demon let out a guttural growl from the depths of its throat. It slammed a fist down next to Spike, who merely blinked at the near-attack.

“What is this?” the demon bellowed, cracking thunder across the sky. Black smoke billowed from its boney jaw as it spoke in a deep, growling voice.

“My name is Spike!” the dragon boldly exclaimed before pointing the mighty staff in the face of the demon; an action that was made more on an instinctual assumption than on any legitimate basis.

“And where is the man who first wielded that staff?” The demon asked again. Its voice was so powerful that the ventricles in Spike’s heart vibrated with such intensity that they began to ache.

“M-man?” Spike stammered, beginning to feel the slightest tendrils of fear working their way into him.

The demon said nothing, but began to chuckle deeply. It straightened its posture, towering over Spike at its full height of sixteen feet. It raised a red, clawed hand towards the sky. Lightning swarmed and arced around it, and in a blazing flash of radiance, joined together to make an instrument of pure light. In a swooshing release of energy, the instrument was set ablaze in orange fire, revealing a twisted ball and chain weapon, covered in jagged edges of some Hellish material. 

Rearing the weapon behind its head, the demon swung it down towards the tiny foe.





“And when I got back to the cemetery, the skeletons were missing, and the Necromancer was never heard from again!” Deckard Cain exclaimed happily before bursting out in ecstatic laughter.

Breaburn forced a chuckle. He had no clue what a ‘necromancer’ was, but he didn’t care. Just seeing the old man happy made Braeburn feel accomplished. The pony had begun to gain affection for the stranger, and was nearly skipping with excitement of showing Deckard Cain the sights of Appleloosa. 

Tiny black shapes formed on the horizon as the sun set to the side of the two travelers. Lights were flickering on from the shapes in the distance as ponies settled down for the night. Unbeknownst to them, this night would far from settling. 

“Ya know, Cain, ya’ll are pretty nice. When ah first saw ya, ah figured you were some kinda monster.” Braeburn chimed, skipping happily across the flat expanse of dirt.

“I’m not that threatening, am I?” Deckard asked joyfully.

“Ha! Not at all. Well… maybe a little. It’s jus’ that ah ain’t never seen somethin’ like ya’ll before.” The stallion explained, oblivious to the lack of understanding on either side of the conversation.

“I’m not sure that I’m following.” Deckard said as he tugged at his beard, “What do you mean by that?”

“Well, ah mean, it ain’t like-“ Braeburn stopped and sniffed the air as a gust of wind bombarded them. It carried a sweet scent of fruit and sugar on its breeze, instantly making Braeburn’s mouth water and Deckard’s stomach growl. Licking his lips eagerly, Braeburn said, “Smells like there’re some fresh pies in town! C’mon, let’s hurry!”

Before Deckard could understand what he meant, he started galloping towards the black shapes on the horizon, which were slowly growing larger as he closed the distance between him and Appleloosa. Deckard didn’t feel like running; he was old and he was tired. Instead he maintained his pace and withdrew his tome.

“The denizens of this region are particularly lighthearted,” Deckard mumbled to himself as he wrote in his book, “It’s almost as if they are completely unaware of the impending evils that lurk just beyond their borders. Still, it warms me to see such innocence in a soul, despite his polymorphic drawbacks and short-term attention span. I just hope the rest of the populace boasts similar attitude.”

Deckard’s head snapped up as Braeburn called back to him, “Ya’ll comin’? We’re almost there!”

The sun was almost completely under the horizon, and the dark blue of dusk engulfed the sky. The buildings on the horizon were close enough to see minute details. They were wooden buildings, much to Deckard’s surprise. Being in the desert it would be practical to make buildings out of adobe or some other form of brick. But it seemed that every one of the numerous buildings, including a large clock tower, was made out of almost exclusively wood. 

Windows were dimly light from the inside, revealing no more than dark shapes moving to and fro. In the streets, Deckard noticed a few blobs of darkness moving about, but couldn’t distinguish any features. He was just happy to see a town that wasn’t overcome by demons or undead. Deckard trudged on as Braeburn galloped into town ahead of him. 





Dirt and splinters of wood exploded from the ground as the heavy ball-and-chain weapon impacted the ground just feet away from Spike. Deep demonic laughter echoed through the forest, sending scores of birds retreating to the sky. Spike held his ground against the giant foe, which seemed apprehensive of attacking the staff. It would lunge forward at Spike, but if Spike moved with the staff it would quickly move back to a safer distance.

“You resist the inevitable, tiny mortal! Your actions are for naught against my Lord!” the demon bellowed, igniting several trees in the area. Spike’s arms flexed as he brought the staff upwards, bathing the demon in a harmless bright blue light. He could say nothing, and settled for shouting as threateningly as he could, which wasn’t much. 

The demon didn’t fall for Spike’s bluff, and countered with a shout of its own. Sparks flew from its skeletal mouth as it bellowed a shout directly at Spike. The dragon could smell the scent of death and decay on the beast’s breath, and hot flames licked at his face. The demon’s skull was no more than four feet from Spike when he thrust the staff forward. A wave of energy left him suddenly, sapping his constitution. White light nearly blinded him as he fell to his knees without a shadow of his former bravery.

Whatever he had done, it worked. The demon was flailing around on its back hooves, swinging wildly at the air with its weapon as it shouted foreign obscenities into the night sky. Dark thunder, accompanied by an eerie green light, rolled through the night, vibrating everything with its intensity. But Spike felt none of it. His head nodded and his vision faded as he watched the demon gallop away, swearing. Still clenching the staff in his claws, Spike slumped forward resting his head on the hot ground.

Before slipping into unconsciousness, the last thing Spike could recall was hearing the snapping of twigs and the rustling of leaves. Four smaller hooves approached Spike from behind and stopped. Carefully, the newcomer shifted Spike’s weight onto her back, carrying the tiny dragon through the forest. He kept the staff clasped in his grasp throughout the entire night.





The bare streets of Appleloosa gave a strange feeling of comfort to Deckard Cain as he walked towards a small brown building, which Braeburn was patiently waiting outside of. As he walked he could hear the muffled murmurs and whispers of the townsfolk. It was too dark out to see clearly, but he could tell that they were there, lurking in windows and in the shadows. 

“Heya Deckard, Sheriff Silverstar is ‘bout ready ta meet ya. He’ll be out in jus’ a minute.” Braeburn cheerily explained, ignorant of the calamity he had just brought into town.

Thunder boomed in the distance, and Deckard turned his gaze towards the sound. A tiny green glow loomed on the horizon to the south for a moment before engulfing the sky in a similar haze, only to disappear within seconds. Deckard sniffed the air with his aged nose,

“Demons…” he grunted.

“What now?” Braeburn asked, captivated by the light in the sky.

“Demons! That was a discharge of a powerful magic. The demon that caused it must have been strong. Tell me, what towns are in that direction?” Deckard asked, pointing a shaky hand towards the south.

“Uh… Canterlot. Oh, and Ponyville.” Braeburn answered, snapping his head away from the sky.

“You should send-“ He stopped and collected his thoughts, “Ponyville?” he asked in disarray.

“Yessir! Fine little town, if ah do say so.” He answered proudly, even though he had only visited Ponyville two or three times.

“I must say that I’ve never heard such a ludicrous name for a town in all my years. Nevertheless, I would advise you to send militia toward the towns. If I am correct, the discharge would be powerful enough to stir up any lingering demons in the area.” Deckard explained, searching through his tome for a particular page which would further help explain his worry.

“We ain’t got any-“ Braeburn started before turning to the building.

At the top of the steps was the familiar Sheriff Silverstar. His black hat rest lazily atop his long brown mane. He looked directly at Braeburn and spoke in his usual over-the-top stereotypical western accent.

“Whaddya’ll want, Braeburn? Ah’ll have ya know that-“

He stopped and stared at the biped that, luckily for him, had his back turned to the Sheriff.

Not much frightened the veteran Sheriff. He had fought off waves of buffalo during the defense of Appleloosa. Before his settler years, he had worked with the Canterlot guard in repelling a fierce griffon attack. He had seen dragons, hydras and manticores, sometimes all at once. He had travelled the breadth of the land and seen almost every locale imaginable. But nothing in his life had sent fear into his heart as this new creature did. Flinging his hat from his head, Sheriff Silverstar ran down the dusty streets of Appleloosa, screaming at the top of his lungs.

Deckard spun around and stared wide-eyed into the dark streets of Appleloosa. Lights flicked on and doors swung open. Out of the bright houses, Deckard saw a score of ponies emerge. At first he thought they were merely short humans, judging by their height, but after seeing the four legs and equine shaped heads, he was sure they were small horses. They all stared at the brown stallion, who continued to run and shout and be generally disruptive.

Braeburn turned to Deckard Cain, “Ah wonder what he’s worked up ‘bout. Ah mean, it ain’t like ya’ll are dangerous.”

Deckard’s mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, but no sounds came out. He watched as the multitude of colorful ponies all turned their gaze to him. If it weren’t for the nearby houses all shining light into the streets, he would have been completely hidden by the dark shadows. But that wasn’t the case, and he was clearly illuminated in the middle of the dirt road. Noticing that the attention had shifted from Silverstar to Deckard, Braeburn stepped up and addressed the crowd, drawing forth the most formal voice he could.

“Howdy ya’ll! Ah’m sure ya’ll’re wonderin’ just who this might be.”

There was no sound, save for the far off, diminished sound of Sheriff Silverstar, and the collective gasp of the crowd.

“This here is Deckard Cain! He’s from a little town called Tristall.” He brought a hoof to his chin, “That’s right, ain’t it, Deckard? Tristall?”

The stallion turned to Deckard Cain, who had since passed out and lay on the dusty road. His foot twitched slightly, but Braeburn hardly noticed as the entirety of the town joined Sheriff Silverstar in utter panic, running about in haphazard directions screaming at the top of their lungs into the night. Braeburn raised an eyebrow at the screaming ponies, wondering just what it was that made Deckard so unappealing. I mean, it's not like he's a completely unrecognizable, wrinkled old man with the ancient magical abilities of a Horadric blood line, who's probably completely able to destroy Appleloosa, given the proper magical preparation and incentive.

Nah, it couldn't be that at all.
> Chapter Four - Shadows Over Appleloosa
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	“Come on, Dashie!” sang the bouncing pink pony. Her curly hair bobbed as she pranced towards the library, “Rarity said Twilight’s feeling down, and as her friends we have to cheer her up! Which is why I brought you. Well, actually, I was gonna bring Fluttershy first, but I got distracted by some flowers on the way to her cottage, but they were way pretty flowers, and had so many colors and they reminded me of you! So then I went-“

Rainbow Dash shut out the pink earth pony’s noise, with some difficulty. She forced herself forward, wondering what was so important that she had to help with. She was wasting valuable time that could be spent practicing her flying, or reading Daring Do.

“-and that’s when Rarity said that she’d go get Applejack, since I would probably fudge something up. OH! I love fudge! We should’ve brought Twilight some of my super-duper-pudgy-fudgy-brownies! That’ll cheer her up lickety-split! And speaking of splits! Rainbow, have you ever tried-“

Rainbow strained every cell in her body to resist the urge of hitting her head against the ground. Blood rushed in her ears, but she could still distinguish Pinkie’s rambling on the other side. She cracked one clenched eye open and looked ahead. The library wasn’t far now, and they would be there in just a few moments. 

“-good if you don’t have too many. Like this one time, Gummy had a dozen chocolate-licorice-pecan-banana-split-spectaculars, and his tummy was so upset, I had to stay up all night and take care of him. I guess Fluttershy could have helped since she’s so good with animals and stuff, but I managed just fine.” Pinkie stopped talking for a moment, and Rainbow Dash sighed in relief, relishing the few seconds of silence.

“Dash, do you think I should’ve brought Gummy? He needs to get out more, but I can never find the right time, and when I do I forget. I think he’d be- Oh, we’re here!”

“Thank Celestia.” Dash mumbled under her breath as she followed the bouncing pink pony through the library doors. Inside the library looked just like it always did; perfectly organized and clean. Books were lined up along the massive shelves by genre, size, and alphabetical order. Dash quickly turned her gaze to the Daring Do section and eyed the books with interest.

“Twilight! We’re here~!” Pinkie shouted in a singsong voice. She had donned a spiraled party hat from seemingly nowhere, but Rainbow Dash knew better; she always had a party hat hidden somewhere. Always.

An indistinguishable response came from upstairs. Pinkie hopped up the stairs two at a time, followed closely behind by Rainbow Dash, who lazily floated along on her wings. Pinkie stopped abruptly at the top of the stairs and got low to the ground. Using her face, she swung the door open at blinding speed and bounded into the room, throwing her hooves in the air.

“Surprise!” she shouted, throwing bits of confetti into the air. The tiny squares of paper fluttered to the ground around Twilight, who seemed too transfixed by something to have noticed Pinkie’s surprise. 

“Hey.” Rainbow Dash said tiredly, looking around at the mess in Twilight’s room, “What happened here? Looks like a tornado went loose in your room, Twilight.”

“Huh?” the purple unicorn responded, snapping her head up from a pile of books. She quickly tidied her mane and turned to her two friends, “Oh, yeah, about that… Pinkie, did Rarity explain what happened?”

Pinkie nodded her head up and down, “Nope!” she said cheerily.

“Okay…” Twilight said, standing up and stretching her tired legs, “When Rarity gets back with Applejack and Fluttershy I’ll explain everything. While we wait you can just… I don’t know, read a book.”

Rainbow beamed before dashing away down the stairs, heading straight for the Daring Do books. Pinkie cocked her head sideways at Dash’s behavior. Twilight just shook her head,

“Pinkie, did you want to find a book to read?” she asked, reorganizing the pile of books in front of her.

“Yep!” she chirped, “Do you have any books on cakes? Oh! Or cupcakes? They’re more fun. It’s like eating a cake, but it’s in a cup!”

“Sure.” Twilight sighed.

The two left the room, shutting the wooden door behind them. From within Twilight’s closet came the tiny scratching sounds of talons on wood, followed by the low growls of the otherworldly demon.





Blood and gore exploded forth from the recently slain bodies of the demon horde. The barbarian shouted praise to his Gods above as he hacked through the cowering demons with ease. In one hand he held a massive axe with a blade twice the size of his head, and in the other hand he wielded a jagged sword, caked in blood and glowing red with murderous magic. Beneath his boots he crushed the skulls of lesser demons as the bodies continued to pile underneath him, creating a mountain of death.

Deckard Cain was standing off to the side, safely hiding behind a stack of barrels. He watched intently as the man tore through enemies with enough destructive vigor to earn the envy of Baal himself. Occasionally the barbarian would take a wound, which only fueled his bloody rampage. From the safety of his hiding spot, Deckard continued chronicling the details of the battle, scribbling furiously to keep up with the events.

Deckard looked back at the Barbarian, who seemed to glow a lovely golden color. As he fought and slashed his way through the terrors of Hell, he turned to Deckard Cain.

“Ya’ll alright?” he asked in a high voice, contradicting his muscular behemoth figure.

He drove the axe through a large demon’s skull, bathing himself in bits of gore. As he did so, a brown hat materialized atop his head. The hat was absent of any trace of blood and seemed incredibly out of place in the chaotic scene. 

“Hello? Ah asked if ya’ll were alright.” The barbarian repeated in the same voice.

The demons had ceased and remained motionless in mid-swing. The tall barbarian strode over to Deckard Cain and kneeled down to the level of his chest. His face contorted in a bout of golden smoke and emerged as a long, slender shape of an equine. Light brown hair cascaded from beneath his hat down the barbarian’s bloody shoulders.

“What.” Deckard Cain managed to spit out as the world collapsed around him. He forced his eyes shut, hoping to relieve himself of the strange nature of the situation. 

“Mister Cain?” the voice sounded again from behind the darkness of his clenched eyelids. The air around him had grown hotter and stuffier, and the ground beneath him changed to a texture similar to dirt on wood. Peaking out from one eye, Deckard was surprised to find himself in a tiny shack surrounded by miniature furniture.

Sitting by his side was Braeburn, and Deckard let out a sigh of relief. He clutched at his chest to make sure if his heart was still beating. It was.

“Folks ‘round town are mighty scared of ya. So ah took ya’ll into mah house here.” Braeburn explained, waving his hoof around in the air to show off the décor of his tiny house. It was shorter than any house Deckard Cain had visited, and he feared that, should he stand, he would hit his head against the rafters. Instead, he remained seated, sparing himself the imminent headaches that would occur from continual cranial bombardment.

“Are ya hungry?” Braeburn asked with a compassionate smile upon his face. He was glad to have gotten Deckard out of the streets and into a place where nopony would see him. He remembered how scared he was when he first saw the man, and figured that that was just how the entire town felt. Without getting an actual answer from Cain, Braeburn pranced across the one-room shack and reached into a tall cupboard. He withdrew a wooden bowl that was filled to the brim with various foods and brought it over to Deckard Cain.

The man’s eyes lit up as he saw the food that was laid out in front of him. It had been nearly sixteen hours since he arrived in the plains, and he hadn’t had a bite to eat since then. Braeburn saw his excitement and proceeded to point out the various foods that were mixed together in the bowl.

“So here we got some apples. And, uh… apples! I think these carrots are going bad.” He said, tossing several limp carrots aside. “And there are some more apples. And, uh... hmm... apples...”

“What kind of apples are they?” Deckard Cain asked, picking up one of the red fruits and investigating it in his hand.

“Uh, apple kind? There’s more than one kind of apple?” Braeburn asked confused.

“Of course! I’d say there are well over thirty kinds of apples.”

“There are?!” Braeburn shrieked, “The way ah figured it was that there’s only one kind of apple. Ah mean, they all taste the same, don’t they?  Sure, some might be yella and some might be green, but they all taste ‘bout the same. There ain’t no reason to be goin’ ‘round with that many kinds a’ apples!”

“I thought you claimed to be an apple farmer?” Deckard asked before taking a large bite out of the crunchy apple.

“Ah am. Maybe where ya’ll are from yer apples taste different…” Braeburn finished, joining Deckard Cain in eating apples. 

The human was devouring the apples one after another with an intensity that Braeburn had never seen before. He had reduced a complete apple to just its core in a matter of seconds and began working on another. Braeburn smiled with strange intrigue at the human’s odd behavior. Deckard sure seemed like a loveable figure, even if he was mighty strange at times. If only the rest of the town had some proof that he wasn’t evil, then they might accept him as a guest.

A mild vibration rocked the building, knocking dust loose from the rafters. It settled on the floor and table around the duo, covering their food in a thin layer of dirt.

“Aw, that’s a darn shame…” Braeburn said, looking at the now dusty food.

“What was that?” Deckard asked, looking for the source of the vibration.

“I’unno. Trains don’t run this late. Mighta been thunder, but it’d be outta season.” Braeburn explained, taking the bowl of food to the rusty washbasin on the other side of the room.

“You aren’t concerned?” Deckard asked, obviously concerned.

“Nah, why should ah be? ‘S probably nothin’.” Braeburn stated heartily, seconds before the screams of the townsfolk made their way into Braeburn’s shack. Out of the faded windows they could witness several brightly colored figures retreating from the darkened streets into the sanctity of their homes.

“What in the hay is-“

Braeburn and Deckard were thrown to the ground as a second shockwave ripped across the land. It was followed by a bellowing sound, similar to that of a foghorn, which was so low in frequency that it vibrated everything in the house. Shakily getting to his feet, Deckard advanced towards the door.

Outside was chaos. Screaming ponies filled the streets, which already seemed like a chaotic thing to the Horadrim. The sky was alight with an eerie green mist that swirled around in large vortexes. Occasionally it would spout unholy lightning that would strike the ground outside of town. Deckard recognized the lightning and gulped as he stepped outside.

“Braeburn… What defenses does Appleloosa have?” he asked, eyeing the horizon with uneasy interest. 

“Uh, pies mostly. It tends-“

“Pies?! Dammit Braeburn, pies aren’t going to solve anything! Do you have any swords? Spears? For the sake of Arakat, a club would suffice!” Deckard shouted at the pony, who slunk to the ground. 

“Uh… the Sheriff ‘s’got somethin’ ya’ll might be able ta use…” Braeburn said sheepishly, pointing his hoof towards the wooden building down the street.

Deckard shuffled towards the Sheriff’s building as fast as he could. Several times ponies would cross his path, screaming at the top of their lungs. As they looked at Deckard, they screamed louder and ran in a different direction. Normally Deckard would beckon them back and ensure them that he was friendly. But not now. Time was of the essence

Demonic lightning continued to strike along the horizon. He could see the orange flame’s glow intensifying and increased his pace. Braeburn raced ahead of him, healed of his cowardice brought on by Deckard’s outburst, and arrived at the Sheriff’s building long before Deckard did. As the old man entered the creaky building, he could hear Braeburn straining in the back, trying to move something extremely heavy.

“This here… we got… from… Trottingham!” Braeburn managed to say through bouts of strenuous pulling. He arrived in the main room, which was barely big enough to see the object in full view. It sat on two wheels, which apparently were covered in rust to the point of immovability. The long black shape was well rounded and positioned in a slight upward angle. A bag was hung by its side and seemed to contain several large metal balls.

“This here,” Braeburn said, resting against the device, “is what the folks in Trottingham call a ‘cannon’. Ah ain’t got a clue how it works, but the Sheriff says it’s dangerous. Maybe ya’ll can figure it out?” He motioned his hoof towards the device, allowing Deckard Cain to look over the strange object.

He had never seen anything of its like before. How did it work? It looked as though it would fire something, but there was no drawstring to propel a bolt or an arrow. It was heavy, and far too impractical to be anything close to a catapult. Deckard stepped back, scratching his beard.

“What are those balls for?” He asked as thunder roared across the sky outside.

“Ya got me… Ah figured they was for show, ya know? Like a… Hay, Ah ain’t got a clue.” Braeburn stuttered, perplexed by the machine.

“Does it work with magic?” the man asked.

“Probably not. The Sheriff ain’t a unicorn, so ah don’t see why he’d keep magic stuff ‘round.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Well, ya know, unicorns have magic. Didn’t ah explain this to ya’ll already?”

Deckard shook his head.

“Oh. Well, I’ll tell ya some other time.” Braeburn said, returning his gaze to the cannon.

“What if we…” Deckard began, trying to wrap his mind around it, “What if we… took it outside…”

“Yeah?”

“And… Hmm.” Deckard finished, not sure where to even begin.

“Shucks, Deckard, we’re wastin’ time! Le’s jus’ ferget it an’ find another way!”

“Good idea. There’s always a plan B, right?” Deckard said, heading back outside.

“Uh, mister Deckard? That was plan B. The pies were plan A, remember?” Braeburn said, lowering his head slightly.

“Right. Then we’ll find a plan C.”

“Righto! Let’s get to it!” Braeburn said excitedly, jumping down the steps of the sheriff’s building.

Ahead of them, advancing towards town, were shambling shapes, too dark to clearly make out. They were large and Deckard could sense the obvious demonic aura around them. Luckily, the figures moved slow and didn’t seem to be very aggressive at the moment, which gave Deckard plenty of time to think. He and Braeburn sat on the side of the road, quickly thinking of a plan of defense.

And the cannon, their sole weapon of mass destruction, sat motionless as the demons progressed towards Appleloosa. 





Harsh dust particles bombarded Spike’s nose, jolting him out of unconsciousness. As he straightened himself to a sitting position, his surroundings become clearer. At first he thought he was in the library back in Ponyville, judging by the wooden walls and scattered books and scrolls. But a closer investigation revealed the numerous wooden masks and tonics that hung from the ceiling. The smell of boiling potions became familiar to Spike, and he concluded that he was in the hut of Everfree Forest’s local zebra; Zecora.

The dust in the air settled over him, still invading his nostrils. Shaking it off with a claw, Spike looked around. Zecora was nowhere to be seen, which was odd. It wasn’t like she had much of a social life anyway. Spike had never been in Zecora’s hut before, and despite what Applejack had told him, it wasn’t entirely frightening. It was creepy, no doubt, but nothing to be scared of. It fit Twilight’s description perfectly; exotic. Situated in the middle of the room was a large cauldron filled with a bubbling liquid, and upon seeing it, Spike hobbled his way over on weak legs.

Leaning over the side of the pot, Spike investigated the brew. It glowed an interesting shade of orange, not unlike Applejack’s coat, though it smelled ten times worse. He almost retched as the scent went to his head, and as he pulled himself away from the cauldron, he came face to face with the zebra.

She stood in the doorway wearing her brown cloak. The hood was up, obscuring her exotic mohawk and jewelry. Only the glow of her eyes escaped from the hood’s shadows. She walked into the hut, seeming to ignore Spike and his curiosity. From the folds of her garment she took out a bundle of red plants and set them gently on the table next to a mortar and pestle.

“Spike, I am glad to see that you are safe and awake. Had you been hurt, Twilight’s heart would surely ache.” The zebra said as she took the pestle in her mouth and began to crush the flowers.

“Uh, yeah. What happened?” Spike asked, scratching the scales atop his head.

“Do you not remember the beast of fire? To forget such a thing; your memory must still tire.” She replied in her usual cryptic rhyming, “You fought off the beast with that staff there, and the monster retreated back to its lair.”

Spike eyed the staff that rested against the wall on the other side of the room. It looked different in the light. It was tall, just as he remembered it, but it appeared far less powerful. In the light of the fire it looked just like a stick. On its end was a small pearl colored orb, which now rest light-less.

“I… remember a monster, but it’s hard to what it was. Was it like a… dragon?” Spike asked, looking at his feet.

“No no, dear Spike, it was not of this world. From another realm, this beast has been hurled. Equestria has not seen its kind before, and I hope in my heart that it will see no more.” She explained, comforting Spike as best she could. She had flung her robes off and discarded them on the floor where they rest in a messy heap.

“Thanks.” Spike said halfheartedly, “But I’ve been gone a long time, and I’m pretty sure Twilight’s missing me. Ponyville isn’t too far from here, right?”

Zecora shook her head sorrowfully, “No. But a word of warning, my little scaled friend; should the beast seek revenge, Ponyville cannot defend.”

“You mean it could be out to get me?” Spike asked, shaking, “But… But what about that staff? You said I used it before, why can’t I use it again?”

“You misunderstand my meaning. If you-“

Zecora stopped, eyeing the staff. Its light had returned, and began to glow as the two talked more and more about the recent events. Spike walked over to it, and just as Zecora began to protest, picked it up in his claws. This time, there was no feeling of bravery or power. The only thing he felt was the dread of holding such a powerful artifact in his claws, and the feeling that it would attract the monster again.

“Twilight would know what to do…” Spike muttered as Zecora closed in from behind.

“Spike, put down that dreaded staff. Please, on all of Ponyville’s behalf.” Zecora pleaded, hoping that by keeping the staff in her hut she might be able to disenchant its powerful magic, thereby stopping anything from being drawn in by its presence.

“But Zecora, Twilight’s the smartest unicorn I know! If anypony knows anything about what to do, it’d be her.” He said, making his way to the door with the staff clutched in his claws.

“If you are so insistent on returning to your home, then make haste. Bring the staff back soon, so the magic can be erased.” Zecora said, not entirely willing to let the staff slip through her hooves like that. But she had to give it to Spike; Twilight knew more about magic than she knew about herself. And since magic wasn’t her forte, Zecora let Spike go.

“Thanks for the help, Zecora. I’ll be back before you know it!” Spike shouted as he jogged towards Ponyville. The zebra shook her head as she went back into her hut, wondering if she had made a good decision or not.





“Is everyone here?” Twilight asked, eyeing her friends that had gathered in her bedroom. Twilight had planned to use the day for reading the seventh volume on the Fundamentals of Equestrian Pottery, but plans had changed; she had been attacked. Now all her friends were standing around her, crowding the normally empty bedroom.

“Sure are!” Applejack chimed happily, not having a clue of what horrors soon lay before her.

“Good. Well girls, something’s come up.” Twilight continued as Rarity joined her side. They eyed each other, not sure how to break the news to the ponies. Rarity had only seen the creature, and hadn’t had the chance to investigate it into greater detail as Twilight had, so she stood back and offered support to Twilight as she handled the work.

“Is it serious?” the canary yellow pegasus asked, swishing her hoof side to side nervously.

“I’m afraid so, darling…” Rarity said, offering what little words she could to the conversation.

“What is it?” Rainbow Dash asked as she hovered in the air above Applejack. Both of them wore a mask of suspense on their faces.

“You see girls, last night something attacked me.” Twilight said, just throwing the news out there. The breaking of the news was followed by a sharp gasp by everypony, including Rarity, who was caught off guard by the sudden outburst.

“Are you alright?” Applejack asked.

“I’m fine, AJ. But this is important; somepony could be in serious trouble if this thing got loose.”

“What was it? It wasn’t Gummy, was it? ‘Cause sometimes he gets outta the house, but I’ve never heard of him hurting anypony before. Even if he chews on you the worst thing he can do is get you all slobbery.” Pinkie said,
leaning forward on her front two hooves, leaving her back hooves hanging in the air.

“It wasn’t Gummy, Pinkie! He hardly does anything to begin with! He just sits there.” Dash proclaimed, rolling her eyes heavily. Pinkie took in a sharp intake of air.

“You take that back! You’ll hurt his feelings!” Pinkie said, jumping onto her back legs and pointing her hoof accusingly at Rainbow Dash.

“What? He isn’t even here! How could I hurt his feelings?” Dash replied before Twilight stepped in between the two.

“Settle down! This is important.” She said, pushing the two ponies away with her magic. 

“Does the Princess know?” Fluttershy asked meekly, almost too quiet to hear.

“Not yet, I’m waiting for Spike to show up so he can send a letter to her. But right now we just need to keep cool heads and make sure nopony panics.” Twilight said as she headed to the closet with Rarity trailing behind, “I trapped the monster in here.”

“Are ya’ll sure it’s safe?” Applejack asked, stepping in front of Fluttershy.

“I’m positive. I’ve enchanted the closet door with a magical barrier. It would take something far stronger than this little guy to break it.”

With that, Twilight slowly opened the closet door. It squeaked slightly under the strain of her magic. Everypony was standing on the edge of their hooves as light swarmed into the closet, illuminating everything inside. They all gasped in shock as the interior came into full view.

A single moth flew out of the otherwise bare closet.

“Wha-?! I… uh…” Twilight stammered, her face turned redder and redder. Behind her, Rainbow Dash was laughing.

“Th-That’s it? A-a moth?!” Rainbow said between fits of laughter, wiggling her legs in the air as she collapsed onto the floor, unable to contain herself.

“It’s okay, Twilight. Everypony gets spooked by the creepy crawlies sometimes. Ain’t nothin’ ta be ashamed of.” Applejack said encouragingly, wrapping a hoof around Twilight.

“It wasn’t a moth!” Rarity exclaimed, blushing as red as Twilight had, “It was a monster! As black as the night, with claws at least a foot long!”

“Rarity’s right, it wasn’t a moth! It seemed more like a dragon, but smaller, and more…”

“Where’s Spike?” Fluttershy asked, looking around worriedly.

“I’m not sure, Fluttershy. I haven’t seen him since before the attack.” Twilight answered with a shaky voice, almost too embarrassed to control herself.

“Well, Twilight… Maybe Spike… Ya know.” Applejack stammered, nodding her head from side to side, hoping to get her point across without having to actually say it.

“It couldn’t have been Spike! It simply couldn’t have!” Rarity exclaimed. She turned to Twilight and said in a hushed voice, “Could it have been Spike?”

“It wasn’t Spike either! Listen, we potentially have a very dangerous creature running loose in Ponyville. Are you willing to help me catch it?”

Everypony in the room stood at attention, except Fluttershy, who sunk into the ground. Of course, everypony knew that this was Fluttershy’s way of saying ‘yes’ in these type of situations.

“Good, then let’s go! Pinkie, I want you to start looking around Sugarcube Corner. And don’t get distracted by any treats, got it?” Twilight asked.

“Okie dokie loki!” Pinkie shouted before bounding downstairs.

As Twilight continued to give orders, the moth from the closet had landed on the closed window. It worked its way across the glass and soon found itself at the seam of the window sill. Squirming its way through the gap, it made its way outside, where it fluttered its wings and took flight. Zipping through the air, the moth found the perfect spot to land and began its descent, leaving a thin trail of black smoke behind it. As it landed in an alleyway behind a series of buildings, the trail of smoke expanded and soon enveloped the entire moth. Violently convulsing, the moth grew to an enormous size before contorting its limbs every which way. Its body shriveled and twisted until it emerged in a scaly, bipedal form. Long limbs sprouted from its shoulders, and ended in long sharp claws. The beast’s head took form and bared its long needle like teeth. It looked over its shoulder at the tree from which it had escaped,

“Pathetic mortals…” it growled in a gravelly, high pitched voice, before bounding off into the dark shadows of Ponyville in search for a host.