The disoriented pegasus peered around the interior of the hut and furrowed her brow at Kla’atra: “I’m--I’m, um, Flight Lieutenant Green Streak…wh-where am I?”
Gil stood and gestured for Green Streak and Bramble to enter the room: “You are in the only relatively-safe enclave in this realm. Welcome to the Compound--I’m Gil.”
“Am--am I dead?”
Gil nodded: “Yes.”
He turned to Bramble: “How did you get her out?”
Bramble shrugged: “The Sentinel is in bad shape right now, and the Swamp is almost unwatched, as far as I can tell. I saw her lying along the lowest terrace, fading in and out.”
Gil frowned: “So you tapped her with a bit of your own energy and got her to reintegrate. That was very risky of you!”
“I know, but you and Kla’atra are busy with Zecora, and I thought I’d take a few minutes to investigate, as long as the Sentinel’s still weak from the rupture. I wasn’t looking for victims, but finding Green Streak was just too good to pass up.”
Green Streak struggled to focus on the various faces around her. She turned to Zecora: “I-I recognize you--I’ve seen your picture in briefings. But…”
Zecora nodded: “The others here are Gil, the colt is Bramble, and our otherworldly friend is Kla’atra.”
Green Streak blinked slowly and faded in and out briefly: “Is--is Top Cover here?”
Gil frowned at Bramble: “That must be the pegasus who was pulled in just before Green Streak, yes?”
Bramble nodded.
Gil glanced at Zecora: “You mentioned that name a bit ago, as I recall, but we never knew it until now; the Sentinel pulled him in directly and extracted his essence almost immediately.”
He turned back to Green Streak and shook his head sadly: “Unfortunately, the creature that dwells in this place and is tied to it hooked your friend and absorbed his spirit and essence before we even had a chance to figure out what was happening.”
Green Streak shuddered violently: “Absorbed? Is--is that what it was doing to me? It--it was awful! It was like drowning in freezing water! I could feel everything getting cold and dark, but couldn’t swim or struggle!”
“Yes. Given more time in what we call the Swamp, it would have processed you as well, sucking away your very essence to feed itself and sustain this place.”
“Th-then what?”
Gil raised an eyebrow: “Then nothing. Your essence, your spirit, the very energy that makes you who you are--who you were--would have been destroyed and absorbed by the Sentinel to fuel its existence. You would cease to be.”
Green Streak faded in and out again, then sat down: “How--how long?”
“What? How long does that take? It seems to depend on the age and vitality of the spirit. Somepony young and vital like you might last for months before ultimately succumbing to the Sentinel’s appetite. Most of Grey Thorn’s victims over the years tended to be old and weak. They were really the only ponies susceptible to dying in their sleep.”
Green Streak nodded absently and turned toward Zecora: “Then how are you still alive?”
“The Void was breached when a group of us attacked it several hours ago. As its surface was blown open I was pulled inside whole.”
Green Streak furrowed her brow: “Attacked? Is there a chance of another strike? Do they know you’re here?”
“I’m sure they do, though I don’t really know if there’s anything they can do to help from the outside. Grey Thorn is dead, and only Twilight knows anything about this place--and it took everything she had just to seal the breach!”
Gil nodded: “Yes, which is an impressive feat by itself. As for getting help from beyond the confines of the Vacuum, I don’t know. This is a self-contained realm wrapped in a nearly-perfect shell of negation. The only time we ever knew of anything occurring beyond its boundary was when Grey Thorn would hunt down a new victim.”
Kla’atra’s eyes shined silvery-blue for a moment, and she folded her long, elegant forelimbs together: “But things are to be changing since the last few months. The Vacuum shall have been penetrated twice and had to have experienced great damage and upheaval.”
Zecora’s nostrils flared and her eyes glittered: “All the more reason to get moving soon! I have no idea if any help is coming, though knowing Twilight and Celestia, I’m sure there will be an effort made. But I’ve spent my life getting in and out of danger on my own in the Everfree Forest, and I’m entirely capable of doing so again!”
Gil smiled: “Well, not entirely on your own. We will assist as best as we can. Your situation is unique, but you’re still likely to face the same basic obstacles anypony would in here: the slow, constant drain of the Vacuum, and the presence of the Sentinel.”
Bramble nodded: “And it’s none-too-sprightly right now! I’d noted Green Streak in the Swamp before, and I’ve never seen a spirit just slide free like that.”
Gil tapped his hooves together and looked at Zecora: “Yes, I suspect the same blood that struck you mute had a very debilitating effect on the Sentinel.”
Green Streak stepped uncertainly to a small window and peered out: “What will happen if she manages to escape? How will that thing--that Sentinel--react? Will you have to attack it?”
“No, we can’t attack it directly--we don’t have the energy or the tools, honestly. We’re going to--”
Zecora cut him off and patted the pouch slung across her shoulder: “I do. Between this and Solar’s saddlebag, I have quite a cache of potions and compounds. I may be able to actually affect that thing.”
Kla’atra’s eyes dimmed and turned a dull gold for a few moments before flashing silvery-white again: “This will be changing things--never in prior attemptings has anyone to have possessed actual materials that should be affecting the Sentinel.”
Gil nodded: “That’s true. Any time any of us have ever confronted the Sentinel--rare as that is--it’s always been through magic or psionics.”
Zecora furrowed her brow as she spread several vials and bags and tubes out on the floor: “Psionics?”
Gil took a deep breath: “You’re aware, no doubt, that we exist in a world rich in magic.”
“Of course.”
“We unicorns were the first to become dimly aware of this millennia ago, and we began to manipulate and focus this magic as our innate ability.”
He pointed at Green Streak: “Pegasi were likely next. Paleontology shows their wings at a more primitive stage long ago, and they undoubtedly couldn’t fly.”
Green Streak turned from the window and shook her head: “We still shouldn’t be able to. Any cadet who’s done the math can tell you that.”
Gil nodded: “Correct--the ratio of mass-to-wing-to-lift isn’t great enough for even proper gliding, yet glide and fly they do. They developed their own response to our world’s magical abundance, and use it to manipulate the air around them.”
Zecora chewed her lip: “What of earth ponies? And me?”
Gil smiled: “As with pegasi, earth ponies are far too strong and fast given their skeletons and musculature. They too, use magic unconsciously to augment their natural strength and stamina.”
He pointed at Zecora’s potions and supplies: “And you are likely akin to an early unicorn in your magical development. You have developed tools and techniques to consciously and directly manipulate the magic around you, since you cannot simply tap into it the way a unicorn would. It’s crude, but clearly effective!”
Kla’atra leaned forward: “I have to been on many worlds before Grey Thorn made to ambush and kill me. I never am seeing magic of the sort this world possesses.”
Gil nodded: “And Grey Thorn spoke on several occasions of the same thing: no traces of magic on any of the several worlds he had seen. Ours may well be a unique world, suffused with magic, all creatures manifesting it as surely as they breathe.”
“Then what is ‘psionics?’”
Gil grinned: “Right--that! The Yönti believe they evolved the ability to use their minds to generate tangible effects in the material world as a defense against predators. It functions much like magic to a unicorn, but without the need for any materials or spells or the like.”
Kla’atra’s eyes flashed pale blue for a moment: “We Yönti were once to have been a hivemind, and shall have developed these defensive mental powers in service to the brood. But over time, as we would have been developing separate, individual identities, most of us also would have been developing discrete psionic powers, apart from the brood.”
Gil tapped his temple: “And since this power flows from the mind, it exists independent of any need for materials or supplies or magical fields. Unfortunately she’s had to be careful using her powers over the centuries, since she’s no longer alive, and so has no way to recharge. Every use erodes her essence a bit.”
Zecora furrowed her brow: “But aren’t you in the same situation?”
“Essentially, yes, though because the Vacuum does exist within the confines of our world, it still adheres to some of the basic rules--gravity, for instance. And the magic that permeates the world at-large has its echoes in here. I’m wearing away, too, just not quite as quickly.”
Zecora began to replace the items spread before her into her bag: “And you said the same will happen to me.”
“Yes--your living body is both a blessing and a curse. I’m certain it will generate great interest from the Sentinel, but it also gives you a reserve of energy nopony else here possesses.”
Zecora slung her bag around her neck and stood: “So when do we go?”
Gil smiled: “I understand your eagerness, Zecora, but I want to round up another couple of denizens of the Compound and get their opinions first.”
Kla’atra looked between Zecora and Gil: “Who is it that you are thinking of making consultation?”
Gil tapped his chin: “I’d like to have Green Streak talk to Radiant Dawn.”
The pegasus furrowed her brow: “Who?”
“She’s the only occupant of this place to escape the Swamp--”
Bramble interrupted: “Well, who still exists, anyway.”
“True. There have been a few others over the centuries, but she’s the only one who still retains a trace of sentience. I’d like her to compare notes with you, Green Streak, to see if we can get a better sense of the Sentinel’s state.”
Green Streak flared her wings and wobbled unsteadily: “I’ll help any way I can. It’s too late for me and Top Cover, but if there’s anything I can do, just tell me.”
Gil nodded: “That’s greatly appreciated. I know this is all very disorienting, and isn’t what anypony would ever want after they die. I wouldn’t blame you if you just found a corner to curl up in--it’s how a lot of ponies have ended their days.”
“That’s not how I was trained, sir; I was trained to fight until I couldn’t fight anymore.”
She looked sadly at the spectral forms around her: “Or even after that, it seems…”
Gil stood and drifted toward the yurt’s hatch: “Well then, let’s head out and find Radiant--” he turned toward Bramble: “and Squish as well. Have you seen it lately?”
Bramble’s horn glowed as the hatch slid open and he stepped through, followed by Green Streak: “Not in several days, actually. It’s been harder to find since Grey Thorn and the Harbinger breached the Vacuum.”
Zecora stepped out after Green Streak: “This is the second time somepony has mentioned ‘Squish.’ Who or what is ‘Squish?’”
Gil floated through the hatch and nodded: “That’s right--I forgot to finish that story--” He turned back to look at Kla’atra, still inside her hut: “You coming?”
Kla’atra’s eyes flashed gold for a moment as she watched Zecora walk across the sward: “I could likely be joining you at Radiant’s hut shortly.”
Gil nodded and turned away as the hatch silently slid shut.