An Extended Holiday

by Commander_Pensword


136 - If These Shadows Have Offended

Extended Holiday
Ch 136: If These Shadows Have Offended
Act 21


Feather Blade opened his eyes and went to move from his bed roll, only to stiffen as an involuntary yelp passed his lips. He groaned as the pain began to soften. “That hurts.” He looked around the tent nervously, hoping no one saw his moment of weakness.

“You took a bad hit in the side. I’m no medical expert, but I’d say you damaged something.” Gabriel looked to Yvetal. “You’re the healer.”

“Technically, I’m more of an alchemist, but I suppose I can try to take a look.” Yvetal approached and prodded the Pegasus’ chest gently. “How does this feel? Tell me where it hurts.”

Feather Blade hissed and whacked Yvetal in the muzzle. “I cracked a rib,” he said testilly. “I’ve been through that enough to know. Don’t touch it.”

Yvetal rubbed his smarting nose. “I just wanted to make sure, Feather Blade. No need to get so upset. If any of them have been broken, then they need to be set. Assuming they’re only cracked, then we’ll just need something to bind them up, while they heal. You wouldn’t happen to have any sort of wraps I can use around his barrel, would you, Gabriel? He’ll need something to keep his ribs steady. And no heavy work or lifting either, until they’re whole again.”

“Take anything you need.” Gabriel tossed him a sack. Inside were random herbs and bits of cloth for bandages.

“It’ll take a long while for these to heal sufficiently on their own. I’ll consult my books and see if I can’t find something that can help speed things along. Otherwise, I’m afraid he won’t be doing much for the next month and a half at least,” Yvetal said as he levitated the bandages out and began to wrap them around the Pegasus’ barrel.

“Well, you keep moving and doing what needs to be done, then. I guess the doc and I shall keep the camp warm for your return,” Feather Blade groused, even as he grit his teeth at the pressure from the bandaging.

“Probably for the best, anyways,” Yvetal yawned. “We could all use a good rest.”

“Yeah … make sure that … what happened yesterday doesn’t repeat itself?” Pensword fluffed his feathers and winced as Yvetal tied off the bandages.

“We may not have a month and a half,” Luna said.

“That is why I am worried. You need to change the mayor’s stance on outsiders, and … take care of Hammer Strike. Those are the only two goals I can think of from that world.”

“Like I said, give me time to check my books. I may be able to find something to help speed things along. Until then, though, you’re ground bound, mister. And no training exercises either,” Yvetal insisted.

“Yes, Sir,” Feather Blade replied with a smirk.

“Cheeky.” Yvetal laughed.

“Tonight, the two of us will hunt our special prey. Then we’ll have to decide how to proceed,” Gabriel said.

“You’ll keep us informed, right?” Feather Blade asked.

“If we’re fortunate, then we should be able to return, having been successful. I only pray it will be enough.”

“If things are going like they did the last few days, then it will be. What do you think, Yvetal?”

“I think it would be foolish to underestimate our ultimate opponent. You remember what he did to you last time, Feather Blade. And we only beat him then by sheer dumb luck.”

“But we can plan now for it.”

“No, we can’t,” Gabriel said. “Last time, we never saw his full potential. Like Yvetal said, we got lucky. We won’t know what he’s capable of, until we fight him.” His voice carried a harsh edge to it as he bent down to Feather Blade’s ear and said, “You’re an officer. For the sake of whatever god you want to use, start acting like it.”

“Gabriel, I saw the fight. I know what he’s capable of from our first fight, and I already bank on him being a hundredfold more powerful. I have a plan cooking, but the first step is to have hope. We can have all the weapons we want, but without hope, we’ll break easier.”

“In the words of Sun Tsu, ‘He who enters the fight prepared to live, he must surely die. He who enters the fight prepared to die, he may yet live.’ Wisdom to live by.”

“I never said anything about living or dying there. I said hope to succeed. I mean, I have a cracked rib right now. I’m ready to die for our Hammer Strike to come back. You know I would give my life for another. I’m just trying to understand. I fully admit I’m not fully versed on thaumaturgy, and frankly, Shawn always, and I do mean always, makes me throw out my book. I truly don’t know if I could ever have a Dark Sun plan for if that monster succeeds in coming to the real world permantifly. I am also a thousand years out of time. So forgive me, if I have lost my edge, but since remerging my mind, I have lost a bit of the old fire and brimstone.”

“Well then, I hope, for your daughter's sake, that you find it again.” Gabriel’s face was screwed up in anger as he turned for the tent’s open flap. “‘Cause I’d hate to be the one to have to put her down,” he said flatly as he left.

“I will try to find it again, Gabriel,” Feather Blade whispered. “I hope to Faust I can succeed.” A moment later, he hissed in pain. “Get to work, Yvetal. I want to be fighting fit again!” he snapped.

“Don’t get all huffy with me. I’m not the one who threw the book at you. At least not yet,” Yvetal said as he pulled out a few tomes from his satchels. “And for goodness’ sake, stop squirming so much! The best medicine for you right now is rest. It’s not like I have a recipe for skelegrow on hand.”

“He’s right, you know,” New Moon finally spoke up.

“Okay, not to sound vain here, but did you mean me or Gabriel?” Yvetal asked.

“Gabriel,” New Moon clarified. “Last time we fought him, he took the two of us out without so much effort as one might give an ant. And you were in better shape at the time, Feather Blade.”

“I know, but my thaumic field is stronger now,” Feather Blade countered, then looked away. “Truth be told, I … I’m scared of what I saw in there. I thralled spirits. It’s unsettling, seeing the darkness I could have been muzzle to muzzle. Yevtal has heard I looked into the dark heart of a race and chose to see their good, but seeing the evil I could do, had I chosen a similar path….” He sighed heavily, then winced. “I’ll be ready as soon as I’m healed. I need thee to teach me to tap into my feral and control it, though, preferably in a way that won’t scare everypony in the village.”

“For now, heal. Afterwards, we’ll have much work to do.” She sighed “I think it is prudent we set the mayor problem aside and focus on what matters.”

“Understood. Leave what we found about the mayor in the hooves of thy sister, without letting her know we are here.”

“Best to do it after we finish the business we came here for. If she gets wind and comes too early, while we’re all here, things could get … complicated,” Yvetal noted.

“Nay. Once we have accomplished our purpose here, we will be heading back to our time.”

“So how do we make sure that the Ponyville of the future appears? Because the mayor now is a roadblock.”

“Let the Apples know,” Yvetal said with a shrug. “Give them the proof. They’re the ones who own the deed, so they can kick out whoever they choose, can’t they?”

“I shall leave that up to New Moon to do, as she is an Earth Pony.”

“The future is set. We will alert the Apples, if we can. If not, we will accept this is not our matter to solve.”

“New Moon, you and I differ on what is set in stone and what is not, but I respect your decision. Now you go with Gabriel. I will do my best to recover here.”

“Faust and Sleipnir both be with you,” Yvetal said.

“And with you,” she replied, stepping through the tent’s flaps and out of sight.


“So … the observatory?” Grif asked as he and Luna moved through the halls.

“It’s where we’re most likely to find her,” Luna said. The two were making a rapid place through the palace towards said building. With Grif’s stealth and Luna’s shadow manipulation, even on its limited scale, the two were able to bypass most of the guards they came across. “It’s our favorite place. He’ll know that.”

“Okay, so how is it you seem to know which way to go?” Grif asked.

“A hunch,” Luna admitted. “I’ve been trying to use some of the baser things I know about Hammer Strike to determine the layout.”

“Doesn’t the layout change?”

“I didn’t say it was a precise line of thinking.”

“Fair enough, I suppose,” Grif shrugged.

The two kept in silence for the rest of their journey as they criss-crossed the labyrinth of halls. It took them roughly half an hour before they finally found the final staircase leading up to the room where Luna was sure she’d find her double.

The inside of the observatory was something else entirely. The minute they stepped inside, Grif felt his wings open to instinctively catch him. Everything round them was black with traces of dark blue and tiny points of silver dotted around everywhere. He could feel the floor beneath them, but his inability to see it was causing his brain to act like he was in free fall.

“Leave, Grif,” Luna commanded bluntly.

“What?” he asked shocked.

“I have no doubts of your ability. And if I prove unable to defeat my double, it will fall to you to do so in my stead, but there is clearly not enough space in this room for me to fight and keep track of you. As one warrior to another, do me this favor and leave.”

Grif grimaced. It felt wrong to leave her, but he supposed in this situation she had to know best. He went through the mental checklist of things he’d gotten since this adventure had started and opened his pack, moving through the items as quickly as he could. He pulled out a warhammer he’d retrieved during one of his stealth kills and a healing orb. He threw both to Luna. She caught them with a nod. Grif moved to the single portal to the outside in the massive night sky around them. The second he was through, the door shut.

“We’re alone now. You can show yourself,” Luna said, stowing the orb and swinging the hammer a few times. Across the void, a crescent of light appeared. It had a strange ethereal quality to it, having no definite shape, yet quite obviously forming a blade. Then the shaft began appearing, with that same sort of tenuousness. The entire weapon seemed formed of a dull blue energy which encased a bright silver mist. It only took the princess a moment to realize the weapon was fully utilized moonlight.

The lunar Alicorn had been using moonlight to forge for years, but she’d never been able to make a corporeal form of pure moonlight. She’d always needed a base to start with, a metal which, as she worked it, absorbed the moonlight and built upon it, creating moonsteel. And yet, somehow, this other self, this shadow, had managed to take their art a step further. Luna found herself slightly in awe of that.

And then those deep yellow eyes appeared with their wicked draconic slits. A high-pitched cackle filled the air, followed by the all too familiar figure of Nightmare Moon in all her glory standing across from Luna.

“Well well. You did come. That's just so … typical.” Her tone dripped with condescension. “Luna’s a big girl. Luna fights her own battles. Luna’s big and Luna’s tough, and she doesn’t need anyone else,” the shadow taunted.

“Self reliance is hardly scornful,” Luna responded to her shadow.

“Oh, it’s self reliance, is it? It’s self reliance when we tried to stop our dear sister? When we tried to blot out the sun? Yes, I’m sure self reliance has served us well.” The only response was a cold glare from the lunar Alicorn. “Oh, what's this? No fiery defense?”

“I know what you desire me to say, witch. You want me to say it was all you, that I was fooled by a wandering parasite, but I’ve accepted what I did. I’ve made peace with the fact that I am as much to blame as the parasite.”

“Oh, Lulu, you’re just no fun when you're acting all noble,” the Nightmare tisked. And then she lunged. The two clashed. Scythe met hammer and the two weapons let out a shower of sparks as they slammed against each other again and again. And with each exchange of blows, angry red gauges were left behind on the hammer’s surface.

Even with her Alicorn endurance and strength, Luna could feel the aftershock of the blows with every hit. She was losing ground quickly. She ducked and rolled as the hammer head finally gave out and shattered. She only just missed decapitation as she hit the floor. Luna began firing spells as she dodged scythe swings. The spells were easily darted away or dodged, not that she’d expected them to be tremendously effective. Not alone, anyway. She managed to avoid lethal blows; however, several large cuts welled blood, and the number increased with every dodge.

“What's wrong, Lulu? I’m standing right in front of you, and you can’t hit me once?” the Nightmare teased. “Maybe Celestia would be a real challenge.”

Luna responded to this by moving right up to the Nightmare and smashing the flat part of their muzzles together, narrowly avoiding impaling herself on her double’s horn. Both reeled back from the impact, but Luna grinned as her horn glowed.

“I learned something a while back, something it seems Hammer Strike forgot about. The value of a good feint.”

It was at that moment the Nightmare realized the number of stars had increased. She hadn’t noticed it before, due to the combat, but she was certain there where more. Her pupils dilated as realization came to her.

“Try this on for size. Thanatos meteor shower!” Luna’s horn glowed brighter as the dozens of spell orbs that had been deflected or purposefully missed increased their mass a thousand times in an instant and shot towards the gravitational pull of the entity they had been tied to with an arcane tether.

The shadow screamed in pain as numerous impossibly heavy strikes began hitting her at once from all directions. Bones cracked and popped as they were crushed under the onslaught. The scythe fell to the ground as one meteor struck and broke the shadow’s horn, causing it to land tip first into the ground. As the spell began to wane, Luna grabbed the blade in her own magic and raised it. The weapon gleamed behind her with divine fire as she approached her double. The shadow would never know for sure, but it was certain before it died that it looked up to see the princess, and superimposed behind her was the monster she had been crafted to resemble, only this one was taller and more terrifying, with brilliant green-blue slitted eyes shining in the light of the weapon. She let out a gurgle of fear, and then the blade flashed, and the shadow knew no more.

Luna looked down at the pile of armor where her shadow had been. She picked up the all too familiar head piece with a slight apprehension. Staring into the helmet of Nightmare Moon was one thing. Wearing it would be quite another. Last time she had done so, she’d wound up on the moon for a thousand years.

“I suppose it cannot be helped,” Luna sighed, then placed the helmet on her head. She shed the armor she’d picked up from all the party’s travels through the cognitive plane and replaced it with the armor of her shadow. Next she withdrew the orb Grif had given her and used it, letting her wounds heal, if only enough to stop the bleeding. Then she willed the door to open, and it did so. She nodded to the waiting Gryphon.

“Come, Grif. We need to return. Tomorrow….” she trailed off as a wave of dizziness overcame her. It would seem she was somewhat more exhausted than she realised.

“Tomorrow, we start to hunt.” Grif nodded his understanding, and the two headed for the exit.


“Well, admittedly, there is one thing that we could try, assuming I can’t find a remedy in here,” Yvetal said as he continued flipping through the pages in his tomes from his place next to the fire pit. “When Gri–” he cleared his throat “–I mean Gabriel fought his shadow, he took a pretty heavy beating, too. I had to give him a bunch of those healing orbs we picked up. They took care of the gravest of his injuries, so one of them might be able to fix up your cracked rib problem, assuming we can get one.”

“That sounds like a good plan. Let’s go with that as a secondary goal. Third goal would be … I am out for a week for this rib to fully heal.”

“That depends on if your field allows your ribs to heal that quickly or not. Otherwise, you’ll risk breaking them, and having that in the middle of the big bad battle is nothing short of an invitation to catastrophe.”

“Right, so … we wait.” He fiddled with the grass for a time, laying back onto the ground to watch a taller stalk dance on the breeze between his teeth. “Any books I can read? I’m bored.”

“You could always try napping. Haven’t you been practicing some sort of lucid dreaming technique?”

“And what makes you think I’m practicing lucid dreaming?” Feather Blade asked warily.

“One, your current reaction to the question. Two, I have ears. One tends to overhear things from time to time.” He shrugged. “Lunar Fang and Fox Feather mentioned something about it when I was visiting Moon River.”

Feather Blade frowned. “I clearly need to have a word with those two when I get back,” he groused, then sighed. “But there is some merit in your words, I suppose. I’ll try to get some sleep. Got anything to knock me out?”

Yvetal raised his staff in his magic.

“You really want to risk a concussion?” Feather Blade asked with a raised brow. “And you seem to take after Gabriel. He does that a lot.”

Yvetal shrugged. “My mentor has a wry sense of humor. I’ll see what I can whip up. It may take some time, though, since I’d likely have to boil the ingredients over a fire. Can you wait?”

“I can. I’ll try to fall asleep in the meantime. Got nothing else to do.”

“Good idea. If I happen to start rambling or singing, don’t mind me. I like to be a bit random sometimes.” And with that, Yvetal went to work, pulling out a kettle and filling it with some water from the camp’s supplies. A few sparks from his horn later, and the fire was crackling merrily again in the pit. All in all, it took about a half hour to finish the concoction to Yvetal’s liking. Then he poured the beverage into a wooden bowl and passed it to the Pegasus. “Drink.”

The Pegasus opened his eyes, and took the bowl in his wings, then downed the contents. “How fast will this stuff work?”

“Do a few deep breathing exercises. You’ll know,” Yvetal said as he began packing up his wares.

Feather Blade tried to take a deep breath, but the pain from the rib kept him from going too far.

“Give it a few minutes. I added a pain killer in there to ease your breathing,” Yvetal said. It should kick in in the next twenty minutes or so.”

“Sounds good.” Feather Blade smiled then. “Thank you, Yvetal.”

The Unicorn shrugged. “Outcasts take care of each other. It only seems fair, don’t you think?” he asked as he returned the smile.

“Indeed, and someday that will be the norm for this entire town. They’ll help out everypony.”

“Here’s hoping they can reach that day sooner, rather than later.”


Hammer Strike’s shadow muttered to himself as he wandered the halls of his own mind. The concept of existing in a place like this would be considered by most as some level of insanity. After all, who would believe entering and existing within the mind in a cognitive plane of existence. After some time looking through it, he was able to determine it was real in at least some sense of the word.

The fact that others on the outside could get inside had upset him to the point of making a horrible mistake: the creation of his soldiers. He growled as he thought on it. “I’m a moron. Creating beings in this place only results in draining myself,” he muttered.

It only made him more furious when they defeated the shadow of Luna he had created. He’d spent hours working on her to ensure she would be perfect for battle, only for her to actually fall in battle against her counterpart.

And that damned scythe. Why’d it have to stick around? It couldn’t have been like the other weapons and materials and vanished to leave something else behind. No. Instead, he had placed too much effort into it, and now it was in her possession.

One of the shadows in armor saluted him as he passed, leaving him with the second thing on his mind. While he had created the shadows of his friends and family, the guards roaming the place had been there since he first came to. When they were defeated, nothing happened to him in scales of energy, and they dropped odd materials when killed by the group from the outside. Whenever he attempted to deal with the knights, it resulted in nothing being dropped.

From the beginning, they addressed him as ruler, as they should. But without knowing more about them, it left him with a sense of unease, despite them showing no signs of rebellion. They couldn’t answer any questions about what they were, apart from saying they were his guard, selected to take this task.

Without full control of his body, he was unable to fully utilize the thaumic field to his advantage, leaving him to rely on the shadows and guards to assist in dealing with the intruders. He was close, so close that he could take control for brief moments of time. The first time had been by accident, but the results were interesting, to say the least. If he’d only had a minute more, he could have been able to subdue his foes, leaving them in at least a state that would make them unable to continue fighting in the cognitive world.

He grumbled to himself as he moved towards his study. He needed to plan things out to ensure the optimal outcome for the fight that was drawing near. He wouldn’t give up, not while he was this close to gaining control.


Yvetal groaned and stretched as he stepped outside the tent. He cracked his back and neck, then proceeded to go stoke the embers of the fire, adding kindling, until he had a proper blaze going. The strange light and non-light that was the twilight hour filled the air with a sense of mystery as he looked out over the rest of the developing settlement. A gentle breeze carried the scent of fresh dew and rich grass, and he sighed in contentment as he levitated a kettle and tripod over the flames.

“And how is the patient?” Gabriel’s voice was heard just before he and New Moon entered the camp. The Pony bore several new scars and carried a most intriguing weapon on her back.

“Sleeping. I gave him a brew to help him relax. Since we’ll be facing you know who next, I was considering the possibility of speeding his recovery by going to the cognitive plane and using one of those red orbs. They certainly seemed to help restore you, Gabriel, and you were in far worse condition.”

“Possible, but I think we used our last one,” Gabriel said.

“Well, that sucks,” Yvetal sighed. “I suppose we could see if we have enough to synthesize some sort of a restorative item. We’ve certainly been harvesting enough.”

“Do you have any idea how to do that?” Gabriel asked.

“Have you seriously forgotten, Gabriel? I’m … actually kind of surprised. Your mind’s usually like a trap.” Yvetal levitated the lid off the kettle and tossed in a few herbs from some pouches. “That girl from the Velvet Room said she would make things for us, if we had the right ingredients. All we have to do is check with her, and bring everything we’ve harvested. There’s bound to be some sort of healing item we can make.”

“I’ve had a lot on my mind.” Gabriel glared at the Pony. “A lot a lot.”

Yvetal winced. “Okay, I’ll admit I deserved that visual scolding. How about I make up for it by treating the three of you in town later?”

“I don’t think there’s a place in this town I could get business,” he stated.

“But I can, even if they charge a little extra. Worst case scenario, I could order some things to go and bring them back here.”

“That will probably have to do, but for now, can you look at New Moon’s cuts, make sure nothing's going to get infected?”

“That, I can most certainly do.” He clopped over to New Moon and began by taking a cloth to wash the dried blood from her fur. “By the way, where’d you get the scythe from?”

“My double,” New Moon said. “I have no clue why it’s still here.”

“I’m guessing it needs some analysis later, then. Maybe once we get Hammer Strike back, he can tell us about it.”

“I hope so,” she nodded.

“So what’s the plan, then? Do we have any idea where to go to get to him? Ideas on how to limit him, that sort of thing?”

“If we did, we wouldn’t be sitting here thinking about it,” Gabriel pointed out.

“Okay, then. New Moon, you knew him best growing up. Is there anything you can think of that might offer a competitive edge?”

“Somewhere wide open. He works best in close quarters.”

“So it would have to be the courtyard, then, or possibly the edge of his cognitive plane outside the castle. He’s not foolish enough to come out to us on his own like that. He’s calculating, so we’d need something to draw him out or a means to force him out there,” Yvetal mused.

“Yes, but it can’t be obvious, or he’ll see it coming,” New Moon sighed.

“I’m guessing it would have to be something pretty big, then. Hmm … I wonder. What if we were to find the cognitive version of Crysalis and recruit her as an ally? He hates her guts. If we get her to act as bait, it might work.”

“I don’t think we have the time to go looking,” Gabriel noted.

“And if we were to try a facsimile, he’d probably see right through it, since we have no idea what the cognitive world version would look like.” Yvetal frowned. “What if we were to go after the cognitive form of Rarity? Do you think he’d care about her at all?”

“Rarity won’t be born for a long time yet.”

“True, but the Shadow Strike has all of Hammer Strike’s memories intact, which means he should also remember Rarity. Granted, I don’t know if he even cares about Rarity or not. If it’s the same Strike we faced before, then we’d have to take something very close to home to get his attention.”

“Would you want to have to fight her, if we do find her?” Gabriel asked.

“Good point. Facing him and her together probably wouldn’t be such a good idea.” Yvetal frowned as he laid his chin on a hoof. “Well, this sucks. Any other ideas?”

“All we can do is hunt for him,” Gabriel sighed. “Hope we get lucky.”

“I suppose we could always see about asking Igor and his assistant for advice while we’re visiting.” He shrugged. “Worst case scenario, he’ll say we have to figure it out on our own.”

“I suppose then tomorrow, we’ll see if we can get ahold of one of those orbs.”

“For now, that’s probably for the best. The more materials we have, the better when we visit the Velvet Room.” Yvetal rose and tossed his blond mane in the sunlight, then chuckled. “Getting a little long. Gonna have to see about cutting it later.” He approached the two warriors. “Now, then, let’s see about getting you two patched up.”

“I’m fine. Just look after New Moon.” Gabriel got to his feet and headed for the building. “I need to sleep.”

“You faced her alone, didn’t you?” Yvetal asked as he turned his attention back to the mare.

“It was the only way to do it right,” New Moon said.

He pulled out a salve from one of his many jars and started applying it to the scars. “So, was she everything you expected?”

“She was not what I expected, but she was in some ways more and some ways less than I was prepared for.”

“But you grew from the experience?”

“I saw flaws in myself, ones I conquered and ones I had yet to realize. I saw myself exposed enough to know what I needed to overcome.”

“I guess that makes two of us to an extent.” Yvetal chuckled as he laid a few quick bandages over the salve. “You know, I can’t help but wonder if that thing over there might prove to be the key to all of this by the time it’s all over,” he said, motioning to the scythe.

“I don’t think it will ever be that simple.”

“Sure seemed to be when Twilight and the others saved you.”

“That was a different instance,” Luna said.

“And the crystal heart? Just happening to land in the caves where Cadence just so happened to have also been hidden? It seems that a lot of the time in Equestria, the answer to things just sort of falls into your laps.”

“A stallion bought a tin cup in Hooford a week ago. The next day his town was attacked by a bug bear. Should we say the cup caused the attack?” Luna asked.

“Was it a Tuesday?”

Luna looked at him rather bluntly.

“It’s a valid question, Luna. If it was a Tuesday, then a minor act like that could very easily have triggered a series of chain events that led to exactly that happening.”

She glared flatly at him, then rose and walked off, leaving him alone.

Yvetal sighed as he packed up the extra materials and replaced the lid on his jar. “She just doesn’t know you the same way I do, Murphy.”


A single voice rose and fell in a melodic aria as the four Ponies passed through the doorway and entered the familiar blue-curtained atmosphere of the Velvet Room. Igor sat at his desk scrawling away at a piece of paper, using a quill made from one of his feathers. Track looked up briefly from her book, then returned to it again, after realizing the visitors would mean no harm to her master.

“Welcome to my Velvet Room,” Igor greeted them. “It appears that it is time for us to part ways. Whether you are to reign victory over your fight with the World’s shadow or fall to his wrath, this will be the last time we see each other.”

“What was that?” Grif asked. “You completely switched your tone … not for the first time.” He gave a frustrated growl. “At first, I thought it was just me, but seriously, I’ve been in and out of this room several times now, and you switch your position more than freakin’ House Turncoat!”

Igor stared at Grif for a moment. “This is the end. You will have to forgive me for being so straightforward with my statements, but this is the last night in which the shadow will remain locked away. Your last chance at him. Should you fail in dealing with it, the fate of everything will fall to a state of imbalance.”

“Yes, yet previously you implied killing him wasn’t the only option,” Luna spoke up.

“There are multiple ways to deal with any situation. As for your team and yourself, I have yet to see any signs that you have another plan but that.” Igor’s gaze flicked over Pensword and Vital, before returning to Luna.

“What is the truth?” Luna asked. “What are you? What is your game in all this?”

“I am the embodiment of Oaths, of contracts and agreements. All I am here for is to watch how these contracts form and to what ends they are completed. Those who hold a powerful contract are especially interesting to me.”

“Then where is your second face?” Luna asked.

Igor hummed questioningly at Luna as he brought his hands up, intertwined his talons, and leaned against the table, resting his beak on them.

“An oath is too complicated to be represented by a single face.” Luna gave him a cold stare. “Are you the oath keeper or the oath breaker? Where is your second face?”

Igor stared at Luna, before giving a soft chuckle. “Damn you. Keeper knew you would catch on.” He moved his hands, resting one on the table, tapping his talons away as he leaned against the other hand with a wide grin on his face.

“I take it you are Breaker, if you refer to Keeper, as an Oath is one that is unable to abide lies,” Pensword replied, looking about with worry. He paused. “Luna, I have an idea, a risky one, but one that may very well bring a win of life for all. We just have to have Golden Oak confront this inner demon.”

“A lie means nothing to an oath, for what if your oath is to lie?” Breaker said.

“We’re not bringing a civilian into this,” Grif stated flatly.

“Even though he isn’t technically one?” Vital asked. “He does have a point. Golden Oak is Hammer Strike, even if he doesn’t remember it. Caramel told me all about it. He remembers how to fight. It has potential to work.”

“It has the potential to kill him.” Luna turned to them, staring both down as she approached. “Perhaps you ignored the parts where Golden Oak was injured in these fights? He is far less durable than Hammer Strike. You ask us to risk everything we’ve worked for for a fleeting chance of success.”

“Then what do we do? If we were to have him confront and accept his dark part, wouldn’t that remove the dark one’s power? Plus, this interaction could bring back his memories. We have to have all options on the table,” Pensword said.

“Sometimes, Pensword, it’s not enough to accept your dark side.” Grif shook his head. “Sometimes your darkness needs to accept you, too.”

“What I’m curious about is why he looked at us when he was talking about the possibility of another plan,” Vital said with a furrowed brow. “Does that mean he and I could come up with a way to fix things without killing the shadow?”

“All through this trip, you two have come to the conclusion that killing was the only path,” Grif said. “It’s been in your way of talking, your way of taking in the facts. You two are … too inexperienced to have realized that’s not always an option that leads to good things.”

“In short, you’re basically saying we were both manipulated into thinking in a certain way, and accepted it as the only way, because of a lack of experience,” Vital said.

Luna looked to Breaker again. “Each of us here has an oath of sorts to Hammer Strike. It may not be a strictly spoken oath, but the silent oath between friends and companions or even family can be just as binding. We all have an oath towards Hammer Strike’s safety. I think we were being tested on the strength of that oath.”

“And I failed?” Pensword asked with a forlorn look at the ground. “I only now saw this other option but it seems more dangerous than the other.” He sighed. “War horses are not good at this kind of situation. Police Ponies, maybe.”

“You had no experience of your own dark side, nor have you had to understand the reality of its existence.” Luna placed a wing on Pensword.

“And you still run from yours.” Grif looked to Vital. “You let the separation weaken yourself. Neither of you could realize the possible repercussions for killing half of your own soul.”

“So he was looking our way because he’s hoping for us to essentially … continue along that path?”

“I looked to you both, as you were the ones to hold the weakest contract to him,” Breaker chuckled from his seated position.

“And you were hoping we would inadvertently break said contracts?” Vital asked.

“Are you slow to notice that I am the Oath Breaker?”

“Just looking to get my ducks in a row,” Vital said calmly. “So, Tracker, quick question. Do you happen to serve both masters equally?” he asked casually as he looked back to the mare in the blue uniform.

“Unfortunately, yes,” she sighed. “I am unable to tell the guests anything on either of my masters.”

Vital shrugged. “We’re not looking for information on your masters. We’re looking for information on how to get our Hammer Strike back without killing or seriously damaging him. Any ideas?”

“The only advice I can give you is to be aware of the status of both yourselves and him.”

Vital nodded. “Thank you. I’m guessing even that was hard to say.” He hefted a bag full onto a table next to her. “Do you think you could help us make a few supplies? I like to be as prepared as I can be.”

“Certainly.” Track gave a small smile. “What supplies are you looking for in particular?”

“Well, you did mention status. Do I have enough here to create items designed to remove ailments, take care of health and stamina, that sort of thing?”

Track’s smile widened. “I believe you have enough to make a few.”


IN THE NAME OF THE MOON, WE SHALL PUNISH YOU!” Luna shouted as she decapitated yet another string of guards in their way. Grif was chopping his way through minions as well, limbs landing where they would to dissolve later as they charged through the courtyard. Grif and Luna had quickly decided that the time for stealth was over, and the best way to draw Shadow Strike out was a full frontal assault. With renewed power, Luna easily tore the portcullis and drawbridge out and flung them away. The minion armies were falling before them like chaff.

Any minion that didn’t have armor or wore only a poor covering found themselves attacked by Pensword’s fangs and hooves. After a few monster kills, the commander utilized a mismatched pair of wing blades to become a tornado of shadow and death. A veritable blizzard surrounded Vital Spark, tearing through the shadows’ armor like paper. He fired off a series of ice beams to slick the ground or immobilize opponents, before cutting them to ribbons.

They tore into the castle with minimal effort, only being slightly slowed as the basic minions shifted to the heavier knights. With their current equipment, the four warriors made short work of these as they carved a path ahead. Grif took the lead in the hallways, since Luna couldn’t swing wide with her scythe. The slaughter grew heavier, and then began to wane as they fought into the hall before the throne room, until the tide stopped. Grif was about to say something, when he noted several of the dead minions had dropped healing and mana restoring spheres. His eyes widened.

“Quiet area. Plenty of healing items. Those don’t bode well.”

“Supreme secret boss level difficulty ahead?” Vital asked.

“Gather up the healing items, and everybody get ready.” Grif scanned the area.

“Who’s taking what?” Vital asked hastily. “We should all have at least a few on us to use during the battle outside what I can throw your way.”

“Vital, just take them all and pray to the gods we can live long enough for you to use them.”

It was at that moment that a nearby door burst open. In the remains stood a large figure covered in platemail armor. Each piece was interlocked together and bound by chains with a dark mist emanating from every crack and opening. In its hands was a plain greatsword with little to no markings. As soon as it noticed the group, its stance changed, bringing its sword close to its body.

But before it could take a step, a massive blade impaled it into the floor. The sword itself was a dull grey, stained in a mixture of red, black, and purple fluid. The hilt curved outward with a harsh corner, reflecting light off the soft purple metal. The leather wrapping was stained purple, spiralling down to the pommel, ending in a sharp point of steel.

Soon after the blade, an even larger figure crashed into the ground. Segments of the platemail were fragmented, cracking or worse, revealing a stained blue cloth underneath. Chainmail gleamed underneath the cracks and gaps of the armor with a soft dark mist escaping it. The helmet resembled the head of a dragon, leaving little to the opening for its eyes, and ended in a matted down, blackened plume. Reaching up with its right arm, it grabbed the blade and effortlessly removed it from the shadow beneath it. Its left arm was limp, hanging at an unnatural angle. As soon as it took notice of the group, it leaned back, before letting out a horrid wail as the shadows around quickly dispersed, leaving the area as quickly as they could.

“Well, thats bad, but it could be worse,” Grif said as he looked at their enemy.

Pensword stood ready, wings flared and fangs bared, before looking at Grif, silently praying to Faust that the fight hadn’t been jinxed, due to what the Gryphon had just said. He quickly returned to his pose.

“Worse? How, exactly, could this get worse?” That’s freakin’ Artorias!” Vital cried.

“You never saw Havel the Rock, did you?” Grif asked.

“... Fair point. So who’s on heal and boost duty and who’s on attack?”

“Well let's be pragmatic here,” Luna said. “How likely are either of you to take out that armor?”

“I’ll admit not too likely. Are you suggesting shucking?”

“Here is the problem. Hammer Strike’s delaying, which means he’s planning something,” Grif noted. “If the four of us stay to fight, we’ll win, but then we possibly give him the time he needs.”

Pensword grinned. “I think the door is important. We need to get past and delay Hammer Strike from implementing his plan. We all fight here, we lose the war.” He looked to the four, and his eyes flashed with a dreadful anticipation. “Grif, Vital, Luna, go!” He snapped opened his wings, then barked a challenge. “Hey, Metalhead! Over here!” Sure enough, that got the attention of the creature. Pensword stood on the ground and waited as Artorias charged. At the last second, he launched into the air, the greatsword passing under his hooves by just a hair’s breadth. The force of the swing left a swath of air behind, thrusting the Pegasus backward and nearly causing him to strike a wall. Thanks to his training, the dizzy spell accompanying the blow dissipated quickly. With Artorias distracted, the door to the throne room was now wide open.

Pensword, catch!” Vital shouted as a series of red orbs zoomed towards the Pegasus.

With the skill of a seasoned flyer, Pensword snatched the orbs in his wings and redirected their momentum to fall into his saddlebag. “Now go!” He narrowed his gaze and offered a quick salute. “Fly, you fools!” His grin lasted only a moment, before the creature’s helmet smashed into the small of his back, slamming him into the ceiling.

Gods speed, my friend,” Grif offered, not even turning to look as the remaining three rushed for the throne room.

“I’ll try to bolster you two as best I can,” Vital said, even as he winced at the sudden wind that rushed in behind them. “I’m the weakest of the three of us, so he’ll probably try going after me to make you two stop.” He gulped. “If he gets ahold of me, … keep going after him, no matter what.”

“As long as you’re conscious, we’ll be fine,” Grif assured him, his eyes flickering to his pack for a moment.

“Onward, then. ELYSIUM FIELDS!” Luna shouted, charging ahead.

“Forgive me, Doctor, but, ‘Allons-y!’” Vital shouted.

“LEROY!” Grif charged.

Pensword’s ear twitched as he heard his friends’ war cries. He banked, only to flare his wings and backpedal up to the ceiling as he narrowly avoided another blow from Artorias’ greatsword. He frowned. “I think this guy is from a game.” He narrowed his eyes as he watched his opponent. The knight started back towards the throne room, its sword dragging across the floor with a raspy hiss as his decaying armor creaked and groaned. Pensword couldn’t allow that. He pulled out the rifle he’d gotten at the start of their mission, aimed, and fired.

Artorias turned his head to the source of the sudden blow that struck his armpit. He roared in rage, shaking the dust from the beams in the ceiling. He lunged forward, jumped, and swung the blade. Pensword dove and twisted, but even so, he could feel the blade shearing a few centimeters of his feathers. The Pegasus settled onto the floor and backed away down the hall. Artorias followed, as Pensword had hoped. The more distance he could put between that monster and his friends, the better.

When Artorias raised his blade, Pensword thrust forward, using his hind legs and his wings to increase his speed as he attacked the monster’s left side. The metal armor shrieked in protest as wing blade struck plate mail. Unfortunately for the Pegasus, the strike hadn’t been a clean one. A sudden jerk on his wing socket pulled him back at the last moment. He looked up to see one of the blades on his weapon had caught on a hole in the creature’s armor. Then he saw the swift approach of a heavy metal boot, followed by the distinct and familiar sensation of pain. The giant had found its mark.

Pensword clattered down the hallway, sparks jumping like startled rabbits as he bounced across the floor, before finally coming to a crashing stop. He rose unsteadily to his hooves as he struggled against the constant ringing in his ears. It was pure instinct that saved him in the end. He thrust into the air, despite how dangerous it was to fly when still recovering from a blow. Less than a second later, he heard the crash of the giant’s overhead swing connecting to the ground.

Pensword continued to flap, and shook his head briefly to get his senses back in order, before looking over his opponent one more time. Clearly, a head-on strike wouldn’t work so well in this case. There was too much risk in getting caught, and he wasn’t about to dance with death again that soon. He looked to his wing blade and noticed a nick in the metalwork. Worse yet, a crack or two had formed on the plating, no doubt due to the force of Artorias’ kick. “That’s not good,” he breathed. His eyes narrowed. Then he took a deep breath and pulled out his flintlock.

“Hey!” he shouted. Sure enough, he drew the knight’s attention. This shadow clearly had no intelligence whatsoever. It acted on a primal basis. “Eat this.” Pensword pulled the trigger. The ball from the pistol flew towards its target, nicked the lower edge of the left eye on Artorias’ helmet, and ricocheted up, into the eye hole to spin into the helmet.

An unearthly cry somewhere between a roar and a gurgling wail surged from the helmet as the creature’s broken left arm twitched. However, the arm was still useless, and it refused to drop its sword. The shadow’s grip tightened, even as dust poured out from the helmet’s holes.

Pensword yelped as the giant used his blade and knocked a loose piece of masonry at him.

“Yikes!” Even though Pensword tried to get out, the debris still managed to connect in his rear, and he felt his left hoof go numb from the crushing impact. “Hurry up, guys,” he whispered as he adjusted his position and dove at this giants back. Another wail rose as metal struck metal, and the ghastly song drifted back to the throne room.


Grif, Vital, and Luna burst through a set of doors into a dark hallway. The torches burned with an orange flame, bathing the passage in a soft glow, illuminating the deformed stone. The bricks were scorched and partially melted, while a faint layer of ash covered the floor with small piles laying at the sides of the hall, leaving Grif with a faint sense of deja vu.

“Are … we too late?” Vital asked. His eyes roved warily over the room.

“We … were last time,” Grif said, his eyes widening as recognition dawned on him.

“Last time?”

“During the Third Gryphon War, Hammer Strike was captured. This is where he was taken.”

“So, does this make it the Dark Strike’s prison, … or the place our Hammer Strike’s psyche was being held?”

“I’m not sure it’s that simple.” Luna looked around. “It’s such a deep memory, such a painful scar.”

“Something that could potentially be exploited?”

“This memory likely pains Shadow Strike as well,” Luna said. “Let’s see inside.”

Vital forced himself to look up at the clinking chains as they shook mournfully in the air. The remnants of some sort of dolley wilted up out of the slag that may have once been its shelving units. The black scorch marks that covered the walls left them brittle as Vital touched a segment briefly, only for it to break apart from the pressure. “He was locked up here?”

“He was locked up, beaten, tortured, both mentally and physically,” Grif said, looking around.

“The scars?”

Grif understood the implication of the question only too well. “When we found him, they’d pushed him to a state where he’d basically baptized the building in fire.”

“You know, in a way, it looks almost like a womb, doesn’t it?” Vital said as he scanned over the concave walls.

“An interesting comparison,” Luna commented.

Grif took to the trail of ash and blood, wondering where it would lead.

It didn’t take long for the group to push open a set of double doors leading outside of the building into the courtyard. Ash covered the ground in piles and rows. The stone was warped and blackened, and in the center of the yard, Hammer Strike sat with his back to them. Numerous fresh cuts and gashes had opened across his body, coating him in his own blood. Orbs of blue fire surrounded him, acting almost like a protective barrier.

“Is that our Hammer Strike or the other?” Vital asked softly.

Grif tried to move to get a view of this Hammer Strike’s face.

As he circled around him, he noticed the Earth Pony was staring at bloodied hooves coated in ash, with a horrified expression on his face as he took several quick, jerky breaths. As Grif studied him, his ear suddenly twitched and his gaze snapped to Grif. His jaw shook, before he finally spoke out, “G-Gabriel?”

“Golden Oak?” Grif asked.

“W-what’s going on, Gabriel?” He glanced back at his hooves. “I ... I was talking with Caramel. My head has been killing me all day, and I could hardly focus. And … and then it all went dark. I was here, my body and my mind hurt. And the blood. Divine above, the blood and fire. The ash ... it’s everywhere.”

“You look like you’ve been hurt,” Vital noted as he approached timidly. “I’m … not sure if you would remember me, but I’m a healer of sorts, among other things. If you’d like, I can take a look at those wounds, try to treat them.”

“No!” He cried out. “Don’t get too close.” He took a shuddering breath. “I can’t … I can’t control the fire. Anything that gets close to me….” He looked at the ash around him once more.

Vital’s gaze narrowed as he looked cautiously around the courtyard. “What, exactly, got close to you?”

“We can’t help you, if you don’t calm down,” Grif added.

“How? How am I supposed to calm down? Everything that comes close was burned to ash! The gryphons, those knights. And to top it all off, everything hurts: my head, my body, and these images that keep coming to me. I feel like I’m constantly surrounded. It’s like I’m being watched by something.” A familiar gleam appeared in his eyes. “So, how am I supposed to do that, Grif?” he shouted.

The courtyard was silent as the trio stared at the Pony, and he stared in return. “He remembers you,” Vital said as he turned to the Gryphon.

“Yes, but the question is, which one remembers me?” Grif replied.

“Which one?” Golden Oak questioned, before bringing his hooves to his head. He groaned. “Just ... what’s happening to me?”

Luna approached him and placed a hoof gingerly on his back. “Golden Oak, what do you know of Lord Hammer Strike?”

He was startled by the interaction, noting that the fire seemed to ignore her. “I … I never studied into his legend.”

“Then this may be hard to believe,” Luna said.

“Am … am I related to him or something?” Golden Oak questioned, before he suddenly brought his hooves to his head and cried out in pain. The area around them shifted for a moment as his cries grew louder. “I-I just … I just want to know!” he yelled, and his voice echoed plaintively on the wind, before a sudden gust obscured their vision with ash. When the storm cleared, the trio suddenly found themselves in a large dank chamber, with no sign of Golden Oak in sight.

The room was illuminated by blue fire, the area coated in blood. Shackles hung above. From the shadows of the room, the figure of a rust-red gryphon stepped out with a twisted smile. “Ah, there you are. Can’t exactly have you three escaping, before your sessions, now can we?” He bowed. “I am Senior Torturer Grimbeak, your host for the remainder of your stay.”

“Grimbeak.” Grif’s voice oozed venom.

“I’m guessing we have history with this Gryphon that I don’t know about yet?” Vital asked as his horn began to glow. “Then again, if you hate him, then I know I’m not gonna like him.”

“I never met him. Hammer Strike turned him into a pile of ash long before I got the chance,” Grif growled. “He’s the Gryphon who tortured him.”

“Well, then. In that case, I’m guessing there’s no mercy allowed for this one. Am I right?”

“If you do, then may they save a special cell in Tartarus for you,” Luna said.

“Just making sure. I don’t want to risk breaking any oaths, after all.” His face set in a grim line. “We’d best be careful, though. This is a skilled torturer, not the shadow of me we saw before. I assume that means he has a lot of tricks up his sleeve.”

“He’s still stalling,” Grif said. “We can’t slow down for this.”

The restraints suddenly clamped around Grimbeak’s limbs and neck, and slammed him against the wall, pulling his legs tight. “Then let’s finish this quickly,” Vital said as he continued to direct his magic. “Luna, Grif, if you would?”

Grif and Luna charged, only to have to backtrack to avoid several darts that flew at them from seemingly nowhere.

“Of course he’s got the room trapped,” Grif grumbled, avoiding more darts.

“No torturer wouldn’t have some form of failsafe to survive,” Vital noted. “People tend to get a bit kill happy when they’re freed and he or she is left to take the blame for their suffering,” Vital pointed out.

“You seem able to handle this. How long will those restraints hold?” Luna asked.

Vital continued to stare resolutely at Grimbeak. “As long as you need them to.”

Luna looked to Grif, and the two nodded. “We’ll go on ahead,” Grif said.

Vital threw his saddlebags at them. “Take these. Leave a few blue and red orbs behind, just in case, but make sure you two have enough for the battle ahead. If you baby me, so help me, I’ll never let you hear the end of it.”

Grif swiped a couple of orbs and dashed for the exit with Luna trailing after him.

“Damn it, Grif!” Vital’s voice roared after the pair.


The battle between Artorias and Pensword continued. Of the original ten rounds Pensword had been able to accumulate, seven remained. His face wrinkled in disgust as he hid in the shadows of the hall’s arches. In his haste to distract the giant, he had tried to bite into one of the areas where the armor had been damaged. Needless to say, that proved rather ineffective and incredibly unpleasant to his taste buds.

He narrowed his eyes and flattened his ears as he looked down. This had become a much more intense fight. Artorias even got a good hit in, before this hide and seek game had begun, leaving the Pony little choice but to use one of the three red orbs he had to reset a broken leg. Thankfully whatever those orbs were, they gave him the benefit of not needing a split to work.

He waited for the right moment as the creature lumbered beneath. Then Pensword smirked. He plunged down with all the speed he could muster, slamming his hooves onto the knight’s helmet with a loud crunch and a series of pops. A shriek of rage emanated from the creature as Pensword dragged his wing blade across the side, then leaped down to the shadow’s sword to attempt to yank it away.

It took some serious working, but Pensword finally managed to wrench it out of the limp arm. Unfortunately, Artorias was ready for it. The knight’s free hand swung around and landed a heavy punch on the Pagasus’ gut, sending Pensword tumbling off the giant’s body and rolling across the floor. Adrenaline surged through his body, giving him the strength to use the momentum of the rolling to surge into the air again. He was going to feel that one in the morning, that was for sure. He coughed briefly and swallowed back the urge to vomit. There was a battle to be won, after all.

The giant was so enraged, it seemed to have forgotten its opponent could fly. It slammed into a wall, giving Pensword the opportunity he needed to hit it from the side and knock it to the ground. The Peasus’ head rang, and his body felt numb, but he knew he had to keep up the fight. Taking advantage of the monster’s dazed state, he struck with his wing blades again. Once more metal shrieked. Once more, he felt the catch, only this time, the acrid smell of fresh blood also flooded his nostrils, and he knew instinctively that it was his own.

Artorias began to stir, and Pensword yanked desperately to no avail. Finally, he reached over and tore at the bindings with his teeth. The cords snapped just in time, and Pensword withdrew the bloody mass of feathers and tissue. Then he reached in with both hooves and teeth to yank the blades out from the gap where they’d caught and rammed it into one of the slots on the giant’s right arm. A new cry of pain and outrage caused the very rafters to shake as dust and mortar descended in dusty cascades. Pensword rolled out of the way just in time to avoid the deadly thrashing as the creature tried to swing its legs and arm at him.

Pensword coughed again, and this time he tasted blood. He took his second red orb and activated the magic within it. Feeling returned to his body. The blood seeping down his wings seemed almost to reverse its course as the wounds healed and closed. He panted to catch his breath, even as the armor-clad giant scrabbled for purchase to rise once more. Even as Artorias struggled, Pensword could see him reaching for his sword. The Pegasus narrowed his gaze and lunged forward to kick the weapon out of the knight’s range. Artorias responded by rolling over and sweeping his titanic, albeit severely crippled arms at the Pony.

Pensword grunted as he struggled for breath. The titanic weight of Artorias’ armor weighed heavily on him as he strained to resist the creature’s onslaught. “Oh, IT IS ON!” he growled.


Grif and Luna stepped into a long hallway. Marble pillars stretched into an endless darkness above them, and a long blue rug stretched down to a doorway at the far end of the room. Light filtered in from the stained glass windows lining the hallways, revealing a stream of stories with each passing glance. A figure stood at the end of the hallway. A black long coat covering most of his body with plates of armor around several sections of the coat and hands. Its head was covered by a helmet formed of large interlocking curved plates that covered the entire face down to the neck, save for two small eye slits. As soon as they noticed him, he reached behind his shoulders, unsheathing two blades. In his left hand, he held a blade made of a greenish-blue crystalline metal. It was double-edged, primarily thin, save for a wide bulbous section at the top. The cross hilt was shaped like a cross and set with a large diamond at the center. In his right hand he held a black single-edged sword with a handle that seemed to resemble the type one might see in a steampunk style sword, with the blade stretching down to curve in a semicircle over the handle as a substitute for a crossguard.

“Count to ten and run,” Grif told Luna, placing most of the orbs he’d grabbed into her bag.

“Grif, why–?” Luna began, but stopped as he shook his head.

“Out of all of us, you’ve got the best chance against Hammer Strike. You’ve fought him to a standstill before, and that thing is only half of him. You go ahead and leave this one to me.” Grif turned to the swordsman and unsheathed his own swords, flourishing them fluidly, before turning a low double vertical sweep into a deep bow towards the shadow.

The shadow flipped the sword in its right hand into a reverse grip and held its hand across its chest as it gave a short bow. The two figures charged in a blur of motion, all four blades locking between them in a shower of sparks. The warriors disengaged and shifted position, before charging and locking again. This time, when they disengaged, Grif pressed forward and almost managed to land a strike, only to be parried by one of his opponent’s blades.

Luna nearly lost count as she watched the two figures attacking each other in rapid flurries. Still, somehow, she managed to reach ten, before booking for the exit, even as Grif ducked what would have been a decapitation.

“You know,” Grif smiled as the two clashed, “it’s almost too bad I have to kill you. It’s been a while since I’ve had an opponent I can go all out on.” Grif pressed again with these words, and blades filled the air. With no one in the room to look out for, Grif was ready to give it his all.


The rug continued to stretch on as Luna burst through the doors to enter a room made almost entirely out of gold and crystal. Precious gems dotted chandeliers that dispersed a rainbow of colors that merged and blended into the blackened shadows that seemed almost to hover along the corners of her vision. Instead of the twin thrones she recalled from Canterlot, one massive, twisted monstrosity of black scale, hole-encrusted horns, and sprawling tendrils that stretched out beneath the throne’s occupant to form a writhing blanket of living darkness stood imposing itself over everything else. A sickly purple glow emanated from the crystals embedded into the throne’s top, tinged by a blackness deeper than any Luna had seen before, … at least in most nightmares.

As the princess drew closer, the atmosphere of the room seemed to change. The gold lost its luster, turning to pillars of bone as the reek of ash assaulted her nostrils. A web of a dark, viscous substance formed a heavy veil that dropped before the throne. Baleful blue flames flickered and danced menacingly around the dais as the occasional spurt of red in their cores turned them the same purple as the throne’s crystals, before they settled into blue again, ever shifting in the same cycle.

Shadow Strike looked on through the veil with a disapproving frown. His blue coat and gold trim held easily to his body as he looked down at the uninvited guest that now stood in a gross parody of a traditional audience. His golden eyes flashed in the bobbing light of his guardian flames as he cracked his neck and looked down with a grim, albeit somewhat bored expression.

“First there’s shadows going berserk, then you four show up, and now I’ve got that moron Golden Oak running around being protected by some mare in elevator attendant attire. You just love making things difficult, don’t you?”

“Seems to me the only one making things difficult is you.” Luna brandished her scythe.

“If it weren’t for you all showing up, things would have been so much easier,” he sighed as he reached behind his back, grabbing Ulcrusher as it formed. “Instead, every part of the plan fell into complete chaos.”

“And if it weren’t for your needless hostility, your other half would have recovered his memories by now,” Luna returned. “You are the root of all your pain, not us.”

“I refuse to let my other half take charge again! Do you know how many needless actions he takes, all to avoid such minor incidents? The things I could accomplish would be greater, if he wasn’t worrying so much about every little problem that could arise from any little action! Every moment of my life is filled with a constant sense of worrying about everything!”

“By creating this needless separation, you only weaken yourself.” Luna stomped her hoof a few times. “He has accepted your existence. Why must you create needless conflict?”

“Because I’m so damned tired of it all. Do you know what the most complicated thing in my life was before we came here? The most I had to worry about was if I sanded down the wood enough to keep myself from getting a splinter, to ensure I kept my limbs far enough away from my power saw, none of this nonsense! I don’t want to keep up this senseless worrying about everything. I have power. Why should I worry about things that wouldn’t harm me?”

“Because you don’t have the power to rule without those you care about,” Luna returned. “Some Ponies draw circles and care for only what lies within its boundaries: their family, their house. Others draw larger circles and enclose within it their friends and their friends’ families. But you are Hammer Strike. You don’t settle for small or medium. You do everything large. You once told me anyone in power shouldn’t be comfortable. So why this? Why now?”

“Have you ever thought that, for once, I may have wanted some damn peace in my life? Almost every month, it’s off to some random location, some deadly fight, some trip in time. It never fails!

“There are better ways to seek a break than this, this tantrum,” Luna retorted.

“And yet every time I try, I’m pulled right back into it. No matter what I do, it’s always the same outcome. And these damned memories that follow it, every waking moment, because of the spells cast on me. I remember almost every moment I’ve been here. All the pain, all the fear. So I will fight at every opportunity, every chance I get, to earn that peace I want so badly.”

“And yet here you stand, complaining and whining, like a foal who’s been caught pulling his brother’s mane. Tell me, do you think that's a true approximation of Ulkrusher in your hand?”

“Down to every detail I could take in.”

“All it is is a shadow, because that's all you can create. Without your other half, all you are is a pale imitation of the real thing.”

Shadow Strike charged, and Luna’s scythe met the hammer. Much as Luna had expected, the hammer hit hard, but not nearly as hard as the hammer it stole its image from. She pushed forward with flurry after flurry, forcing the shadow to give more ground as the two weapons clashed. “You could at least make this interesting,” Luna said as she caught a mistake and hooked the head of his hammer, pulling it from his hooves and sending it flying to land on the ground several feet away.

With a growl, Hammer Strike reached out and created a greatsword from thin air, then charged again. The weapon’s longer reach and combat effective area actually made a difference as the two continued their dance of death. He managed to land several shallow blows on Luna; however, he was still forced to give ground as the scythe was able to block and thrust at the same time, allowing Luna the ability to attack with her defence. Several minutes later, the greatsword shattered against the far wall. “Try again,” Luna growled.

This time, he caught Luna off guard. The weapon that formed in his hooves was something she’d never seen Hammer Strike use before. She wasn’t even sure he’d covered it. The shadow of the Pony that had raised her now brandished a bident, a large fork-like weapon with two tines, rather than three. He held aggressively, and when the two engaged, the battle went very differently. The weapon’s twin tips and inward facing barbs were perfectly set for locking her weapon. On three occasions, Luna nearly lost her scythe as the shadow attacked in several flurries, gouging her coat with deep bloody tracks as he pushed forward again and again.


Pensword was in the air again, while his opponent stood glaring up at him. A black viscous substance thicker than blood, but not so thick as tar dripped from where he had jammed his broken wing blade into its arm. The giant sword lay useless on the ground. The creature couldn’t lift it anymore.

The only problem now was the fact that, since the giant had been unburdened of the hefty weapon, it was free to swing its arms, making the very wing blades that had crippled it a deadly weapon in its favor as it struck with broad sweeps. The cut above the Pegasus’ hoof showed only too well just how quickly Artorias had been able to adapt. Now the two watched one another, locked in a perpetual stalemate. Pensword’s body had taken more of a beating as he worked to whittle the giant down. His feathers were ruffled, and he could feel the bruises starting to form beneath his fur. He continued to circle in the air, just outside of the giant’s reach.

Finally, the commander struck, making a spirited dash for the monster’s back as he tried to kick it off balance agian. Artorias was having none of it, and he backhanded Pensword into the air again. The monster had adapted, and it was time to try a new tactic. Pensword checked his bullet supply once more, and cursed his luck as he found the cache completely empty. What would it take to finally kill this thing? He sighed, took a shuddering breath, and then withdrew the hatchet he’d won from his shadow. His muscles tensed as he let out a low growl, then barked, “This ends now!”

He transferred the hatchet to one of his wings and threw it with a loud cry. The metal seemed almost to scream as it sliced through the air, filled with the Pony’s pent up anger and frustration. The weapon embedded itself into the creature’s neck with a loud crunch, and a fresh gout of the black substance burbled out from its helmet like a bloody froth. Artorias did his best to reach the weapon, but with both arms crippled, there was not chance of reaching the tomahawk in time, even if he were to try using the wall. Ultimately, the shadow let out one last gurgling cry as a fountain of black ichor exploded out from its helm to shower in puddles around it. Then Artorias fell to his knees and collapsed, falling back to the stone floor with a mighty crash. Finally, the body and all its residue burst apart into a dark smoke, leaving behind three red orbs and two blue ones.

Pensword dove greedily, snatching one of the red orbs to restore his health. Scrapes and cuts knit together, and a tingling surrounded the surfaces where he’d taken a heavier beating, and he felt the aching begin to ease. When the magic had done its work, he quickly pocketed the other orbs and rushed towards the door his friends had left through earlier. It was time to rejoin them once more, and put an end to this nightmare once and for all.


“You’re very good,” Grif commented to the shadow across from him as he stared at it, breathing heavily. Their fight was currently a perfect stalemate. The shadow was able to match his movements slash for slash at the same rate of speed. He seemed to know every trick Grif knew, and how to counter it. The room was full of heavy gouges in the floor and walls, yet despite that, both sets of swords appeared wholy untouched by their repeated use.

Grif’s opponent stared at him silently, as if waiting for him to attack again. His posture was carefully controlled, his poise perfect. His blades lay in a easy grip, slanting towards the floor in front of him.

’And there’s the rub.’ Grif sighed, eyeing the duelist’s two blades. ’Even if he was three times as skilled as me, I’d eventually be able to out maneuver him wielding only one sword. But with two blades, I either need to lock blades to stop him or he needs to lock mine to stop me.’ Even as Grif continued to ponder his situation, his opponent seemed to have enough waiting. He suddenly charged Grif with several rapid strikes, which left the Gryphon having to answer, thus throwing off his train of thought.

The room echoed with the ring of blade on blade as dragon bone met the unnamed metals of the other blades. Grif found it took more and more concentration to ignore the stench from where sparks had landed on his own feathers. His talons were nearly numb from the repeated impact of their blows. At some point, his katana had loosened enough to slide under his right wing, and the sheath poked into his side.

“Winds, if you can hear me in here, I could use some help,” Grif said as he continued to dance with his opponent. It took almost a minute for Grif to realize music had started to filter into the room. It was strange, orchestral in nature, with a deep adventuring feel to it. For a minute, Grif could almost smell the tang of salty air. When the two separated again, he saw something lying on the ground, a black scrap of cloth. Perhaps his opponent had gotten a lucky hit? No, he wasn’t wearing anything that black. It might be he’d managed to cut it, but his opponent’s coat seemed undamaged. Without taking his eyes from the shadow, Grif retrieved the scrap with the edge of the imitation of Vigilance. It was then that he realized it seemed to be a bandanna.

And then everything clicked.

It was stupid, moronic even, a technique no self-respecting swordsman would ever think of. It held no reason why it should work, and yet, with a wily grin, Grif lifted the bandanna and fastened it over his crest. He lifted each blade accordingly, preparing for another lock. Then, in a swift motion, he kicked the katana sheath with his right paw, and the blade slid free with a ring. It sailed upwards for a moment, flashing repeatedly, before it began to drop. Grif snapped with his beak, feeling the katana hilt settle awkwardly between his teeth. He now stood before his opponent, grinning through the katana’s hilt and holding a sword in each claw with all three blades facing to the left. The two stared each other down silently, waiting for a signal of some kind. Outside, a breeze suddenly whistled through a crack in the wall, and as though that had been some prearranged signal, both figures charged. Grif stopped the horizontal slashes with a vertical block to either side. The two swords pointing to the sky seemed to form an aisle of their own, one Grif moved through smoothly. In a single rapid motion, he turned his head violently to the right and his opponent’s head hit the ground.

Grif stepped back as his former adversary’s body followed its head’s example. The katana dropped to the ground at his paws as Grif stared, dumbfounded at what had just happened. He laughed, letting out booming chuckles, ignoring the dissolving body before him, until he finally had to stop for air. When he saw what waited for him, his grin widened.

It was a long black coat with a wide collar. White lined the edges of the coat down the two sides of the front and across the shoulders, forming the illusion of straps. A small band circled around the right arm, sewn in a similar fashion. Small metal plates were attached to the mid forearm on each side. Beside it was a matching weapon harness with a large three-sided metal buckle to be worn over the front of the coat. Upon touching the fabric, Grif immediately identified it as leather, specifically dragon leather, the kind of material that hadn’t been used in over thirteen hundred years. Grif watched as the form shifted and altered to fit a quadrupedal creature like himself, with wing slits in the back and a small hole for his tail. Grif practically purred as he tried it on, admiring the feel. He looked towards the direction Luna had exited and shrugged. He supposed it couldn’t hurt to have it equipped for now. Grif slid on the harness and adjusted it carefully. When he went to sheath Vigilance and Vengeance, he found two black sheaths waiting patiently for the blades.

“Oh, I’m going to miss this, when we have to leave,” he sighed as he sheathed the blades and exited the room. He wasn’t sure how, but he could swear he felt … quieter.


“Damn it, why did I have to be the one to teach you combat?” Hammer Strike’s shadow muttered.

“Because Celestia never had the edge for it,” Luna chuckled. “I’d hoped by now you’d see this is pointless.”

“Don’t get cocky. Just because you understand how I fight with these weapons doesn’t mean much for the others.”

“Oh, really?” Grif’s voice suddenly cut in as he walked around Luna, looking tired, but surprisingly uninjured. “Because my sweet ass coat begs to differ.”

“Delightful,” the shadow rolled his eyes.

“Wow. Even your sarcasm is only a shadow of Hammer Strike,” Grif said.

“Not a priority.”

“You don’t have a lot of those, do you?” Grif asked. “Too busy trying to be Batman?”

“Oh, the real Hammer Strike so does it better,” Pensword said as he landed. His armor had changed, taking on a more angular appearance, sans one wing blade. The torturer’s crest had been fastened proudly to his helmet. “I must say, Vital did a great job holding off that Gryphon. It felt nice killing another from that time period.”

“A simple matter of restraint, followed by near strangulation when he tried to poison me. Who knew he still had a sample of the Flames of Tartarus?” Vital said as he clopped slowly into the courtyard. Then he frowned. “Is it wrong for me to have felt pleasure when Pensword smashed the bottle in his face?”

“Believe me, he deserved worse,” Grif answered. “Vital, can you see to Luna? She looks like she could use some help.”

“Sure, Grif. By the way, you owe me when we get back home again.” A blue and a red orb were shoved at the Gryphon’s chest. “Sometimes, you’re way too reckless.”

Pensword moved and spun and they heard a loud clang. A war ax had been deflected and dug into the stone floor. “Keep eyes on target!’ he snapped as he stepped back out of range, at least until Hammer Strike pulled out a Magnum .44 and pointed it at Vital. “Hand Cannon!” Pensord yelled.

Vital didn’t even turn around as a wall of ice as thick as a Pony was long materialized behind him, catching the bullets as he lowered himself to tend to Luna. The shadows rose up to meet it in tandem, reinforcing the interior as the Unicorn spoke almost negligently. “Grif, if you would, please?” Dark bubbles surrounded the blue of his usual magic around his horn. “I’d rather not waste my potential on a broken shade.”

Grif stepped towards Hammer Strike, standing directly between him and Vital. Then, mixing wind pressure with movement, he began parrying bullets as he stepped forward. “Not good enough.”

Hammer Strike growled as he fired more shots, and Grif continued deflecting shots with precise timing. Unfortunately, he had little control of what the bullets did after being deflected, and so, one managed to bury itself in the top of the ice wall, sending sharp ice splinters down on the group. He heard several pained groans, but couldn’t look back to see what had happened. Even a moment’s miscalculation would have Grif’s guts spread across the floor behind him. So, he moved forward, each moment another step. Every second, several more pings of deflected bullets sounded in the air. With every instant, more anger showed on the shadow’s face as the Gryphon approached.

“It’s funny. Hilarious, really. You see, on my best day, I couldn’t have gotten this close to Hammer Strike with a gun on his worst day. Oh, I can give him a good run in a sparring match, but if he was meaning to kill me, he’d probably have it done without much effort. And then there’s you, standing there, growling as you try, and not even come close to hitting me. Do you know why that is?”

Pensword prowled around the edge of the battle, looking for his opening, but with that gun, he couldn’t find a way to get in fast enough. The ice splinters that had shaved off Vital Spark’s wall had left behind a cold mist as they melted. As it stood, Pensword was no better than a caged animal, waiting for his chance to escape and strike.

“Feeling better, Luna?” Vital asked as he finished applying his third pair of orbs to the princess.

“Yes,” Luna said as she began to work her muscles. “It appears Grif is doing a good job running interference.”

“Yeah,” Vital chuckled. “He always was good at giving a speech.”

“It’s because I am Grif Grafson Bladefeather. I am a beast and a murderer. I have waded in the blood of my kind up to my beak and come out clean.” Grif casually deflected another bullet. “I am Grif Grafson Bladefeather. I am a father and a husband, and a friend. I am the death card. I bring the end, and I bring change. You? You’re not even half of a Hammer Strike. You’re just a child throwing a tantrum.”

Hammer strike’s shadow let out an inhuman scream of rage as the room around them began to break apart. Stone gave way to a black void all around them with no horizon, no entrance, no exit. They found their paws and hooves stood on something, but they couldn’t see what. Suddenly, a violent pressure struck the four of them simultaneously. Vital collapsed, then Pensword. Grif was barely able to stand on shaky limbs, and even Luna’s knees buckled from the pressure of the presence that had emerged.

“This … I feel like an astronaut,” Pensword wheezed with a smirk, but the eyes darted nervously around the void.

“Vital, you’ve got to remember to see if Clover can recreate this,” Grif joined in. “This would be great for training.”

“But dial it down a little first?” Pensword asked as he struggled to push himself back up. Cracks were forming in the ice barrier Vital had created as the pressure continued its work.

“S-sure thing,” Vital grunted as he struggled to push up against the force. He chuckled. “You know, this reminds me of Kaguya’s gravity realm.”

“Who?” Pensword inquired.

“Naturo reference, Pensword.”

They won’t stop their damned wailing!” The shadow yelled out. “I refuse to let you win. I refuse to let you stop me!

“Thats my line,” Grif sneered, even as he struggled to stand up straight.

“I think you mean my line,” Luna chuckled.

“I think we happy few share that line,” Pensword growled as he panted heavily. His legs finally managed to lock into a standing position, even as his body trembled from the overwhelming pressure.

“Is that the Saint Crispin’s Day speech, Pensword?” Vital chuckled as he finally managed to get to his hooves. “Now you’ve got me all inspired.” Then he smirked at the false Hammer Strike. “Say, Shadow, would you like some cheese with that whine?”

Vital spark’s answer was a left hoof to the face hard enough to make the world go black.

Pensword gritted his teeth, trying to fight against the pressure, yet Shadow Strike was moving as if he were strolling through the Canterlot Gardens on a Sunday. He was too fast to land a blow in this environment. Every muscle strained as Pensword struggled to move, to lash out, to fight.

Wait your turn, Pensword. I’ll deal with you shortly.” The shadow growled as he moved to the prone Vital. After a moment, he chuckled. “That’ll do. I’ll be sure he gets a nice slow death.” He turned to face the others. “You lot, however, will be quicker. I don’t have time to waste. They’ll leave soon, and I won’t let this opportunity go to waste.

“They? So you work for somepony else? I thought thou wert top dog,” Pensword growled back.

Of course I work alone! But I won’t snap at the beings in the void, especially when they chose a perfect point to observe.

“Observe what a waste you truly are,” Grif coughed, but he was slowly regaining his strength. Bleeding chaos aspect around him seemed to lesson the strain. It was still difficult, but not more than the strain of the presence.

The shadow growled as he moved towards Pensword, a warhammer forming on his back. Before Pensword could try to dodge, the shadow slammed the hammer into his side, knocking him across the area into Grif. The combined force of their momentum bowled them over as the pressure continued its work.

Grif’s body screamed in pain. Pensword’s angular armor had many sharper edges that had, by some miracle, left the coat undamaged, but the flesh under it was another matter. Already, Grif could feel the warm wetness of blood trickling down his side.

Pensword had used his own momentum to roll over Grif to avoid adding his increased weight to the pressure their environment exerted. He looked to Grif, then strained once again as he struggled to stand. “You want power? What about the wisdom?” He coughed, even as he glared defiantly at the false Hammer Strike. He had no delusions of winning here. The only one who had a chance was Grif, and he wasn’t ready yet. He had to give him the time to recover. “I have seen mighty nations fall to the weak. Two regiments from Earth were destroyed by the might of Zulu warriors. A nation of mere farmers defeated the Wa–.” A loud clang cut him off as Shadow Strike’s warhammer slammed against his head. He was dimly aware of the heavy thumping as the weapon bounced along the ground beside him, carrying vibrations back to his twitching ears as he, too, faded into unconsciousness.

Shadow Strike huffed in annoyance as he looked disdainfully at Pensword’s prone frame. “Divine above. He just didn’t want to stop!”

“It’s a trait you two have in common,” Luna said, her horn glowing as moonlight blazed around her, etching something in the unseen floor. She seemed to be undergoing less strain the longer the magic went into effect, and she grinned triumphantly, if a little tiredly at the Pony as she hefted her weapon.

Shadow Strike sighed to himself. “All right, then. If you can’t wait your turn.…” He turned his attention away from Grif.

“You think combat is some sort of game?” Luna spat.

“I find it to be one of the worst things I do.” He frowned. “I can’t deny that I take pride in my work, but you four already pushed this fight beyond what I wanted it to last.”

“Happy to disappoint you,” Luna growled.

“I suppose you would be,” he replied as he placed a hoof on the side of his head with a faint twitch.

“We’re not done yet,” Grif groaned as he reached into his bag, searching for something.

The shadow’s expression turned to a grimace as the presence began to lessen from the group. Damn it, I wasted too much time.

“Like every evil idiot ever, you did something Hammer Strike would never do.” Grif coughed up some blood, but the smile never left his lips as he retrieved a small velvet sack. “You were monologuing.” As the presence abated, Grif lifted the hand holding the sack above his head. “Let me show you true power.” He upturned the sack over his other hand and a single small gray feather fell out and lowered in the air. When it reached his other hand, he crushed it in one swift motion. There was a sudden blue flash, and instantly both Grif and Luna’s wounds sealed themselves and healed. Not even scars where left behind. Grif felt the shackles fall away as the presence vanished, and in its place, energy filled him, completely erasing any fatigue he had left. By the way she perked up, Grif could tell Luna was undergoing the same effect.

“Now I’m ready to play properly.” Grif smirked as he cracked his neck muscles and began approaching the shadow. “So let's have a game.” He looked at the shadow’s silent and angry face. “What? What happened to the bluster, to the superiority? When did you get switched with an angsty teenager?” he mocked. “Come on. What’s it going to be, angry silence or rude comment?“

“Just get on with it already.”

“You know why you lost?” Grif asked.

“I’ve already heard you point it out several times now, Grif. I may not be my whole self, but I already heard it plenty from you both.”

“But you aren't getting it,” Grif pressed. In an instant, his body shifted. His fur somehow became a sickly black, like tar or ink. The green on his crest and breast became slick and oily. His slitted red eyes stared at Hammer Strike as he growled. “You think I don’t know where I could have done better? You think it’s easy to accept how much I hate myself when I fail? ‘Cause thats all you are, the self loathing, the internal need to be better. Do you see this beast? Do you know how much blood it wants to spill?”

“I can assume,” Shadow Strike said coldly, urbanely.

“I found peace.” Grif’s form reverted as he spoke. “I found the true strength there is in unity. All this division you’ve made will do is weaken both sides of you.”

“I’ve known this, Grif. I had plans to deal with these issues,” the shadow sighed.

“And yet you did all this.” Grif swiped his hand around. “And even if you’d actually managed to take control of the body, do you think you’d really win? You think it’s that simple?”

“You seem to forget some items I have in my possession in the waking world.”

“And you forget some of the people we’ve met in the waking world,” Grif responded.

“With all I know of this world,” he gave a soft chuckle, “I don’t need to stay around long. Just long enough to do what I need to finish, and then I wouldn’t mind living the rest of my days back home, content with my shop.”

“Knowing you’d killed your friends?” Grif asked. “I know enough to know that if you go there, there are only two ways it ends, and you won’t live through either of them.”

“I don’t want any of you dead in particular. It’s more so that I want you all to leave me be. Once weakened, I could easily eject you from here, and with the power I’d have available, it’s just a simple bind, until I’m done.”

“And then the earth either drains you dry or the void finds you,” Grif retorted. “And you’d have to kill me. We both know I’d find you.”

“By the time you could figure out the knowledge, I’d be dead, anyways.”

“You know, you really underestimate me. I know the shortcut.” Grif grinned at him. “I know how we got here.”

“I’ve known this for some time. But opening a gateway is beyond your current state, even beyond mine at my full power.” The shadow sighed. “Enough of this, Grif. I feel as though Luna is growing impatient in my blindspot.”

“You lost. Are you going to surrender peacefully and stop this charade?

“It’s not in my nature to give up easily.” The shadow pulled a greatsword out of the void around them.

“It’s also not in your nature to be a total idiot,” Grif responded.

“Just get on with it.”

Grif charged Hammer Strike, who braced himself and moved to counter. As he had expected, Grif flipped over his head at the last minute, before striking, but when he turned to counter, his face met the oncoming flat of Luna’s scythe at full power. Being only part of Hammer Strike, the shadow was nowhere near as ready for the blow as he had expected, and hit the ground hard. Grif cut the tendons in all four of the shadow’s calves in a flurry of quick, precise movements, while Luna used blunt force to break each leg in turn. Even with Hammer Strike’s healing factor, it wouldn’t be a fast recovery.

“Surrender,” Grif repeated.

“Damn you both,” Shadow Strike sighed. “Like usual, huh?” he asked, staring into the void.

“It’s like I said. Like this, you’re not strong enough to fight us,” Grif noted. “I know it’s hard. I know what it’s like. But you can’t let this continue.”

“Damn it, I know I can’t,” he frowned. “It’s always going to end like this. I’ve known it for countless years. But you know how that song and dance goes. Even when we know we can’t have it, there’s always a part of us that will endlessly yearn for it.”

“It’s learning to put such urges aside for a greater cause that we find true strength,” Luna offered. “We have both been in the same position as you.”

“I know.”

“Then, for once, trust us,” Luna urged.

The shadow pushed himself into a seated position, still staring out ahead. “... All right,” he finally said.

“Then you’ll re-merge with your other self?” she asked.

“Once we’re finished remembering,” he sighed. “Just… go on. I’ll be there shortly.” He gestured to the cracked door in the distance.

“First, I require your word. Swear on Rarity’s life,” Luna said.

Shadow Strike let out a tired sigh as he rolled his eyes. “I swear, on Rarity’s life, on everything I hold dear. I will go peacefully.”

“Very well.” Luna replaced the scythe on her back, and Grif sheathed his blades. The two turned and headed for the door that was indicated, stopping only long enough for Luna to place Vital on her back and Grif to do likewise with Pensword.

Grif and Luna found themselves back at the room just before the throne room, only it looked cleaner somehow, less dark and edgy. The two placed Vital and Pensword so their backs were to a wall. Then Grif nodded to Luna, and she conjured a blast of ice water, striking both ponies.

Pensword started awake with a sputter. “That’s two for two. Just….” He trailed off to stare at their surroundings. “I remember us fighting in that … place, then….” His brow furrowed. “That shadow hit me. What happened? Is it over?”

“That place was the void. We’ll go over that chapter in the book again, when we get back home,” Grif told him.

Vital groaned as he rubbed the side of his head. “Man, Hammer Strike sure knows how to throw a punch.”

“At least it’s over,” Luna sighed.

“So … everything’s cool now?” Vital Spark looked around the room. “Funny. I thought the whole place would’ve come apart without Shadow Strike to support it.”

“I am still supporting this, I hope you realize.” The throne room doors opened once again as Shadow Strike exited into the hall. The throne room behind him was fully restored. “These two aren’t exactly heartless enough to kill me.”

“Never said they would. We didn’t plan to kill you, when we came for you in the first place.”

“Yet you voiced your curiosity how this place still stands. As long as I exist, it exists.”

“I … kinda thought you might’ve merged back with the other Hammer Strike.”

“My other half isn’t exactly ready for me,” he chuckled. “Won’t be for some time, after all this….”

“As long as you don’t bring those void beings with you. I got a pretty bad vibe from them,” Pensword said with a shudder.

The shadow suddenly started laughing. “You think,” he gasped, “you think I want them here? I can’t control when they pass their gaze over my being! They’ve watched over me since the day we arrived here.”

“How long do you figure it will take, before you’re ready to return?” Grif asked.

“In which sense? As I am currently separated, are you referring to myself, or are you referring to the me you know on the outside?”

“The latter.”

“He’ll come to within the next hour. Right now, I’d suspect Golden Oak is finished collecting our memories, and is sorting through them. Our personality will be … somewhat different for a short while.”

“To be expected,” Grif nodded.

“Agreed. I had a war to keep things from freaking out. There’s no telling how Hammer Strike will react, or rather, Golden Oak,” Pensword said.

“I’ve got nearly a hundred years worth of memory to sort through. I’ll be fine.”

“Even if you aren't, you’ve got friends to lean on and support thee through this time.”

Shadow Strike gave a faint chuckle. “I still can’t help but find it amusing how, despite me being in the past the longest, you appear to be the one stuck in it.”

“I was semi stuck in the past when thou didst meet me on Earth,” Pensword answered, using the archaisms on purpose this time. “Amature historian, remember?” he asked with his own chuckle.

“I remember. For the most part, that is.” Shadow Strike hummed to himself. “I wonder what the most effective way to deal with that would be.” He glanced to the group. “Perhaps second best, instead,” he mused.

“Well, at least we have come to an accord of sorts.” Pensword chuckled in response. “Still, I hope that next time, if there is a next time, we will be allies.”

“I’ll think about it.” He gave a faint smile. “Now get out of here. I’ve got work to do to ensure the minor shadows are dealt with. I’m surprised you didn’t run into Celestia, or even the Shields.”

“Sheer dumb luck,” Vital said, then chuckled. “But it seems we’ve had that on our side before.”

“I guess my luck had to go somewhere,” the shadow shrugged, before pointing towards the entrance of the castle. Then he turned to another hallway. “You should know the way out.”

“Sounds good,” Pensword answered as he moved his limbs. “This was a most interesting adventure.”

“We’re not done just yet. We still have a few loose ends to tie up in Ponyville, while Golden Oak processes, anyways,” Vital pointed out. “Like a certain tribalist mayor.”

“That’s a horrible idea,” Shadow Strike commented as he stopped to glance at the group one last time. “The minor shadows in here have all left, and are potentially scattered into the cognitive world. Not only that, but I sense a presence watching over you all, and I can tell it’s not pleased.”

“We seem to do that to a lot of folks,” Pensword responded. “Maybe we can write to Celestia or leave something with the Apples.”

“Don’t know, and don’t care.” The shadow continued down the hallway and around the corner. “Have fun with your troubles,” he finished as a soft dinging echoed from the hall.

“Well, I guess that's that,” Grif said, yawning. “Let's head out.”

“Yes. I think it is time to head out to the real world,” Pensword agreed as the yawn carried over to him.

“Luna, if you would be so kind?” Vital asked. “Or do we need to stop by the Velvet Room one last time, first?”

“Vital, did you not pay attention to Igor? We won’t be returning to the Velvet Room,” Luna chastised as her horn began to glow.

Vital shrugged. “I figured he could have been lying. He was the oath breaker, after all.”

“That doesn’t mean he will always lie.” Luna rolled her eyes as she shook her head. “You really need to learn the difference between an oath and a promise.”

“I’ll make it a point to ask Clover when we get back, especially since there’s the question of how those two differ when it comes to a contract as well,” Vital mused.

With that said, the group vanished in a flash of light.


The sun hung low over the horizon as the four friends returned to the real world once more. The familiar sturdy wood of the golden oak towered above them. The lingering smoke of their campfire rose in a wispy column with utensils and tent just as they had been when they left. A cool evening breeze ruffled their manes and crest as the friends looked back and forth at one another. Weariness and concern flashed between them all as the final moments of their time in the cognitive plane passed through their minds. They had succeeded. The shadow was defeated. Well, it was placated, at least. And their old friend would be an amnesiac no longer. But despite the shadow’s assurance, the worries remained. Would Golden Oak really be able to handle his past? How would that impact his life here? All wished to be by his side, but all knew that they had to wait.

Vital was the first to break the silence as he cleared his throat. “I’ll just go ahead and see about brewing up some tea. Anybody else want something?”

“Some tea would be good,” Pensword agreed

Grif was too busy checking out his new coat, which seemed to have survived the trip to the real world.

“I need a drink,” Luna said. Her horn ignited and a bottle of lightly glowing clear liquid appeared in her grasp. She uncorked the pure moonshine and took a drink straight from the bottle.

Pensword just stared. “I remember you giving me a thimble of that stuff. … I woke up the next evening unable to remember anything between those two events.”

“She’s an Alicorn, Pensword. That stuff is probably like a mug of beer to her,” Vital said.

“Last time I gave Celestia any, she woke up five weeks later in the Dragon kingdom wearing a lampshade on her head,” Luna said flatly. “It also killed a Dragon lord, though I can never remember which one.”

“Hence the thimble,” Pensword finished, waiting for the kettle to whistle.

“... I really seem to have a gift for sticking my hoof in my mouth, don’t I?” Vital deadpanned.

“At least you didn’t get your cutie mark in it,” Luna offered.

“Now I am curious what that would look like.” He winced then. “And … let’s not tell the CMC about that idea.”

Vital chuckled. “Pretty sure they wouldn’t want to try that one. But I suppose it’s better to be safe than sorry.” He sighed. “So that stuff’s really alcohol?”

“Light from the moon came first from the sun. As you may know, light moves through time faster than the rest of the world. When it picks up the particles that turn it silver, it begins the fermentation process. By the time it reaches the earth, it has the same vintage of a thousand year old whiskey.”

Vital whistled. “No wonder it packs a punch.”

“Yeah,” Pensword answered with a smirk. “So, you have an interesting scythe now, Luna. Are you planning to use it to scare that mayor onto the straight and narrow?”

“Pensword, I feel for you, but you are asking for us to meddle in history.”

“Something’s going to have to be done, or at least started, before we leave, Luna,” Vital noted. “But if it is, I’m guessing it’ll likely need to come from the figure who had such an impact on this town in the first place.” He looked back towards the oak. “And that’s assuming it’ll even need a nudge from him. We don’t exactly have a play by play for how Ponyville became an accepting town.”

“The doctor was afraid of this,” Grif sighed, turning back to the conversation.

“Afraid of what?” Pensword asked. “Also, happy to have you back with us, Grif.”

“That you two would suddenly decide messing with the timestream was a good idea.”

“Okay, for the record, I never said messing with the time stream was what we were necessarily supposed to do. But you do have to admit, Grif, sometimes things do need a little nudge.” Vital sighed and shook his head. “And now I understand the headaches Pensword had to deal with before. Unless we have a precise archive, there’s no telling if we’re supposed to interfere or not.”

“So … we let things be? Usually, when we end up in the past, we leave a mark. If the Doctor says we don’t this time, I’ll leave it alone. I’m just going off past experiences,” Pensword noted.

“Well let me clear this one up for you. This mayor’s term is what pushes Canterlot to put its hoof down. They send a legal representative to Ponyville to see that things are properly reorganized,” Grif said. “But only after a major incident, which we did not cause.”

“Then I guess we just have to wait for Hammer Strike to finish his awakening and hope he comes to find us afterwards. He’ll probably need to say his goodbyes to the Apples, too,” Vital noted.

“Okay,” Pensword answered as a hint of a blush shone under his cheeks. Missing that bit of information in his research was a rookie mistake.

”I hope this doesn’t take long. I’d like to get home,” Grif said.

“You could always go check on him, if you want,” Vital noted as he looked calmly over the kettle. “I think it’s ready to steep. Did you have any particular blend you wanted this time, Pensword?”

“Any of the blends you brought with you. I wouldn’t mind Kash’s Jasmine.”

Vital nodded. “Then jasmine it is.”


Golden Oak’s eyes snapped open as he gasped. The sweet scent of dusty lumber and dried apples wafted through his nose. He trembled as the air wavered around him, then took a deep breath to calm his shaking body. He blinked a few times to clear his vision as he looked up to a familiar green face and several others looking intently, each with a bucket and damp cloths. Sunlight streamed in through the hayloft and open doors to rest on his scar-ridden fur. Crates full of mason jars, bunny costumes, paint supplies, and various other equipment stacked along the walls.

“Caramel?” he questioned, glancing around once again, before reaching a hoof up to rub the back of his head.

A tall stallion with gray eyes and a rusty coat smiled tiredly beside her. A bright red cross inside a white circle stood prominently on his flanks. “Looks like he’s finally coming down. Good work, everypony.”

Caramel grabbed Golden Oak’s neck in a massive hug as tears of relief fell down her cheeks to run into the stallion’s fur. “Don’t you ever scare me like that again,” she scolded.

“I’m sorry,” he sighed. “I didn’t mean to worry anypony. I … just didn’t expect what happened.”

“What exactly did happen to you, anyways? It’s not like you to let yourself work too hard,” Mister Smith’s rugged voice said. “If it weren’t for old Red Cross here, we’ve no idea what could’ve happened next.”

The stallion let of a small chuckle. “If only you knew.” He slowly moved himself into an upright position, despite being told multiple times to take things slow. “I … finally remember. Every little memory that escaped me. I finally remember them.”

“Some sort of seizure?” Red Cross pondered with furrowed brow. “I suppose it’s possible….” He looked up again. “How’s your head? Everything working proper?”

“I’m fine. I can assure you of that.” He gave a soft smile.

Caramel finally managed to raise her head up again. “But … if you finally got your memory back, then who are you really?”

“My name is Hammer Strike, and through means I cannot fully explain, I found myself here seventeen-ish years ago.”

“Well, obviously,” Caramel chuckled. “I was the one who found you.” She tapped her chin ponderingly. “Hammer Strike. It suits you.”

He gave a faint chuckle. “I’d certainly hope so.” He gave a soft sigh. “I hate to say it, but I’ll have to leave sometime soon.”

“Not until you’re good and recovered, young colt, and that’s an order,” Bobbin insisted as she strode forward. Her red mane had since become streaked with silver, but the iron in her hadn’t changed one iota. “You’re staying the night with us. And I won’t take no for an answer, you hear?”

Hammer Strike gave a short laugh. “I don’t think I can find it in myself to argue with you.”

Bobbin smirked. “At least he kept some of his good sense.” That soon put everypony to laughing as Hammer Strike got slowly to his hooves.

“I’m certain a few of my friends would disagree with that one.” He gave a soft smile. “He used to have to force me to take a break from my work.”

“Then he’s a wise Pony,” Bobbin said.

“A Gryphon, actually. Amusingly enough, he found me a month ago and, in order to keep an eye on me while I recovered my memories, has been staying at my home, paying rent as a hunter.”

Bobbin scowled. “You mean to tell me he’s lying?”

“He’s certainly a hunter. He has the certification, but he had been trying to help me remember this entire time. In fact, I’m almost certain he’s on his way to determine my current condition.”

“Well, after I made sure the others were all right,” Gabriel spoke up. “Forgive me. The door was open.”

“And you are?” Caramel’s father asked.

“My name is Gabriel, and I am with the order of monster hunters in the name of Lady Faust and Lord Sleipnir, and at her highness’ pleasure.” Gabriel gave a bow.

“Well, if you’re a friend to Gold–” he cleared his throat “–to Hammer Strike, then I guess that makes you a part of our little family, too. Wish you’d said something sooner, though.” He chuckled. “Could’ve saved us a lot of worry.”

“I’m afraid the situation was … complicated. Suffice it to say, things had to be handled delicately.”

“You saying there was some kind of a monster involved?”

“Yes.” He looked to Hammer Strike. “One far more dangerous than most I’ve faced.”

“Don’t remind me.” Hammer Strike rubbed the back of his head. “I’m still getting pieces from that part….”

“I must thank you, friends, for your actions towards Hammer Strike. It warms my heart to know good Ponies found him, when I could not be there to help.”

“‘Tweren’t hardly nothin’,” Caramel smiled. “He did more for us than we did for him, really.”

“Still, please take this as a sign of gratitude,” Gabriel said, placing a bag of bits on the floor.

“Only if you’re staying for dinner. I insist,” Bobbin pressed.

“I must see to my companions,” Gabriel said. “They will be waiting.”

“Then bring them along. The more the merrier.”

The Gryphon’s beak pulled up into a smile. “I suppose I cannot say no, then. My gratitude for your hospitality. Not many are so accepting of my kind.”

“If Hammer’s vouching for you, that’s good enough for me. Supper time’s at seven sharp. Don’t be late.”

“I won’t.” Gabriel’s smile widened. “Shall I leave you here, then?” he asked Hammer Strike.

“I’ll be fine,” he chuckled softly. “Go on.”

“I will return.” Gabriel bowed again, then took his leave.


“You know, for a time traveler, he has an annoying habit of being late,” Grif said from their spot outside of Ponyville.

“He didn’t exactly give us an exact date for when he would pick us up, Grif,” Vital noted.

“He said he’d be there to pick us up when we needed it,” Grif countered.

“Then maybe we don’t need it yet? Either that or the TARDIS simply didn’t want to cooperate. You know she has a mind of her own.”

“Well, we had the dinner party, so that was nice,” Pensword noted.

“The TARDIS tends to arrive at just the right moment to either interrupt something or place emphasis on something,” Hammer Strike commented.

“So … are we at least packed for the trip home?”

“I don’t think we’d be standing here, if we weren't, Pensword,” Vital deadpanned.

Pensword winced. “Hey. I’m just covering my bases.”

“I’ll be glad to get home and see my girls,” Grif sighed, “and get started on rebuilding the defenses … again.”

“Oh, yeah. I was pulled away before the fight,” Hammer Strike hummed.

“We won,” Grif said. “Thanks to Trixie, actually, so, yeah, that was awkward.”

“How are we going to hide her now?” Pensword asked. “That is going to be intense.”

“We won’t,” Grif shrugged. “We’ll simply make it clear what happens to any who’d go after her. After all, no one goes after my friends and family and gets away with it.” He winked at Vital. “You’ll have your hands full, when we get back.”

Vital blushed heavily. “Yeah. That’s … still processing a bit.”

“It usually takes a while the first time, except for Hammer Strike, but, technically, he had sixty years or so to plan it.” Grif smiled supportively as he clapped the Unicorn on the back.

“I just hope she doesn’t get too upset when she finds out about our time traveling.”

“Clover didn’t cover it already?”

“Well, we might arrive an hour after we left, but I won’t bank on the Tardis being nice,” Pensword said.

“She basically said she’d flay me alive, if I told Trixie before we left.”

“Ah.” Grif nodded. “Well, that’s for later.”

“The telling or the flaying?”

Grif shrugged. “Whatever floats your boat. So, who’s your best man?”

“I … hadn’t really put much thought into it. I mean, we’ve kind of been dealing with some pretty pressing stuff.”

“This is your wedding. I’ve fought in wars less pressing. Heck, even Hammer Strike was slightly unnerved at his wedding,” Grif laughed.

“I was nervous for my wedding as well,” Pensword agreed. “It’s perfectly normal.”

“I … don’t know if I even should have a best man. I mean, you guys are all my friends. How am I supposed to be able to choose?”

“Then don’t choose us,” Grif shrugged. “You have other friends, … right?”

“Well, I have acquaintances, but … honestly, not really so much. You guys have kept me pretty close, and my training’s kept me pretty busy with all the catching up I’ve had to do with the other mages.” He stroked his chin in thought. “I suppose Rook would count. He’s been pretty supportive, all things considered, and he’s got Taze’s mischievous streak when it comes to trolling.”

“Taze didn’t live under a bridge,” Grif chuckled.

“Neither does Celestia.”

“Touché,” Grif laughed. He stopped when a familiar sound began to filter through the air. “Finally.”

“Yes, I am really looking forward to seeing my family again. Maybe Mutatio could be your best Pony?” Pensword teased.

“Pensword, I hardly know the guy. He’s almost always at the hive with Me-Me, looking to his duties as head drone. I’ll be happy to invite them to the wedding. It’d be stupid for me not to, with all Me-Me did to help me when I was adjusting. But for that particular title, I’ll need to choose someone else.” Vital sighed. “Give me enough time, and I’m sure I’ll come up with the right choice eventually.”

“I was teasing,” Pensword deadpanned. “Do what you think is right, Vital spark.”

The blue box appeared once again as a mysterious wind swirled around it, before it settled into reality with a booming thump. The door creaked open to reveal a silvery-furred feline with vivid blue eyes and curled, wavy hair. A woven boater hat was cocked lopsidedly on his head, a sunny complement to the pressed white suit he wore. A familiar scarf hung around his neck on either side as he peered out at the four companions.

“Quite the timing, Doc.” Hammer Strike glanced over the TARDIS and the Doctor.

“Uh … which regeneration are you, Doctor?” Pensword asked. “I don’t recall the feline before.”

“This would be my seventh, Pensword. And I would be exceptionally surprised, if you did recognize it. You knew me much better in some of my previous lives,” he said calmly, almost academically as he looked nonchalantly at his claws. “I take it you four need another lift?”

“As always, Doctor,” Hammer Strike nodded. “Before I find myself unable to leave.…”

“Thanks for coming for us, old girl.” Grif placed a hand affectionately on the TARDIS’ outside. “I don’t know about him sometimes, but I never doubt you.”

Pensword patted the side of the door frame with a wing. “Thank you,” he whispered. “I know you will be where we need you to be. Can we go home now? I would love to see Moon River again.”

“Say, Doctor, can I try the thing this time?” Vital asked curiously.

“Thing?”

“Yeah, that thing you do, where you snap your fingers and the doors open?”

“Snap my fingers and what?” The Doctor looked incredulously at the Unicorn. Do I really do that in the future?”

“You know, like this.” Hammer Strike stomped his hoof on the ground, and the TARDIS doors responded by opening sharply.

The Doctor gaped at the doors. “I didn’t even know it could do that.”

“Yeah. She does that alot for you. Your future lives tend to ... enjoy showing off,” Vital noted.

Grif gave a low whistle as he entered and looked around, a grin slowly widening across his beak. “I forgot how much I missed the round things.”