Pale didn’t remember being in a good mood that lasted quite so long. The attack on the Weeds had been nearly flawless, and with them out of the picture, the guild had enjoyed a relatively calm few weeks. They were back to dealing with only twitchers.
It would still take awhile to cut them all down, with as much as the Blight had gained while the guild was distracted with the Weeds, but Pale was optimistic that the end was in sight.
If they truly managed to eliminate the last twitcher and end the Blight...then what? Pale rarely thought about what she would be doing if she wasn’t killing. It was hard to admit that she didn’t know how to do anything else.
Still, the prospect that she could get away from death and destruction eventually was a happy thought to look forward to. The guild just had to finish its task.
They hadn’t been able to make much of the material recovered from the Weeds’ headquarters. A few future attacks had certainly been prevented. The Weeds were apparently researching how to make the Blight survive outside a body long enough to be spread through a public water supply. Needless to say, that would have made the guild’s job exponentially more difficult.
The recovered papers had contained a few basic notes on the Blight and references to some substance the Weeds had discovered to keep themselves from blooming. Apparently, they’d gotten a lot of use out of their cover as a pharmaceutical company. Perhaps that was even how they’d discovered the Blight in the first place.
Exactly what they were doing with the Blight was still unclear. Pale couldn’t fathom how they could want to spread it. Could it be that a particularly clever twitcher, because of their destructive nature, had figured out how to live longer in order to go on creating chaos? Was there some other explanation?
Fortunately, if the guild never discovered all of the Weeds’ secrets, it wouldn’t matter very much. Even if a few stragglers had been elsewhere and escaped slaughter that night, the Weeds were as good as finished.
It was just one more thing that contributed to Pale’s overall good mood. The other was cause for celebration. Today was Tietack’s naming.
The group of them had gathered in the main room. Jolly hadn’t held back with the chocolate cake and even decorated the table and walls. It was probably the most colorful that Pale had ever seen anything in the cave.
Tietack was not quite an adult by legal standards, but age had never been a factor to the guild. Pale had earned her name even younger than Tietack, though to be fair, she’d started younger, too.
She hadn’t had a party, either. She’d been busy.
But after the doom and gloom, a celebration was for everypony. Tietack was enjoying being the center of attention, though. For the occasion, he’d sewn himself a custom tuxedo. Almost a month later, his face was healing nicely, though as Shard had predicted, the scar looked permanent. At least it wasn’t quite as big as they’d all initially thought, just enough to put a crook in his smile and make him look rakish.
Piper lifted his glass. “It’s a special occasion today. We have a new member joining us. Mr. Tietack has proven himself.”
He looked at Pale. Caught flatfooted, she quickly improvised. “I think Tietack has been a good influence on us all. It’s good to remember what we’re fighting for - the future.”
“That’s actually what I was going to say,” Jolly broke in.
“Right, Pale, when did you get so sentimental?” laughed Mirror. “Well, I want to point out how brave Tietack was at the Weeds’ hideout. He charged in with no regard to his own face.”
Tietack could at least laugh. Amusing as it was, Mirror raised a good point. Pale added, “Definitely brave beyond his years. He probably saved me from getting blindsided in there.”
“It was a lot of responsibility for one so young,” said Piper. “But with his help, we eliminated a major threat. If we keep up that level of effort and success against the Blight, Tietack might well be the last new member we ever need to induct. With that, it’s time for naming. What shall we call him?”
“Self-sacrifice and an excellent sense of fashion,” said Mirror with a smile. “May I suggest ‘the Handsome Cut.’”
There were no objections, and the guild welcomed its newest, and hopefully its final, member.
Pale applauded with the rest. For her part, she honestly did hope that the guild would never need anypony else. Even though they fought to protect ponies, they shouldn’t need to exist. And once the Blight was finished, so too would be the guild.
Her anxiety from earlier came back. What was she to do then? No résumé, no special talent, half changeling...just who would give her a job? She could be a hermit, like that zebra in the Everfree Forest, but that was just as bad as living in a cave. The worst part about craving something else was not knowing at all what she wanted.
Somepony coughed. Pale’s ear twitched. Her head turned. Whirl had raised his talons to his beak, his eyes wide. He coughed again, and then again.
Piper was closest and reacted faster than a stallion his age had any right. He shoved Whirl back, away from the group, just as he began to cough continuously.
It was almost as if time had slowed down, dragging out the unfolding horror even though the witnesses could do nothing to stop it. Piper kept pushing Whirl, backing him up to the far side of the cavern even as Whirl coughed in his face.
Whirl’s hindquarters bumped into the wall and he started to fall over backwards. He raised his talons, grabbing at Piper. Piper shoved him, Whirl flailed, blood splattered on them both.
Pale had been frozen in place, but jerked her scarf up around her nose and started forward as Piper went to his knees. Whirl let out a final, wheezing cough, and swayed where he stood. He sat down and looked dumbly at the spreading pool of blood around them both.
Piper rolled over, furrows of skin raked off his chest. As he breathed, blood came from his lips and his chest wounds bubbled. He looked at Pale, and then closed his eyes.
Whirl’s hind leg was closest to Pale and she kicked it. He yelped. Pale demanded, “Why didn’t you tell any of us you were infected!?”
“I...I thought maybe…”
She kicked him again, harder. Whirl curled into a ball. “Do you know what you’ve done!?” Pale screamed again.
“The last guild, the one that didn’t want me,” Whirl wheezed. He was fading fast, and had stopped fidgeting entirely. “They’re at a flour mill in Griffonstone. Tell them I’m sorry.”
“You should be sorry for what you did here,” Pale snarled. She grabbed Whirl by the ruff of feathers on his chest and yanked him towards her. He didn’t struggle, not even when her knife sliced open his throat.
She stepped back, her eyes going to Piper. Blood had stopped pumping out of his wounds. He lay still.
Pale could feel any hope she had for the future dying with him. He was the guild’s leader, he was their eyes. He’d taken Pale in when she had nowhere else to go and given her a purpose.
And now he was just as dead as any of the countless others Pale had killed herself.