//------------------------------// // Chapter Nineteen - Ghost of the Empire // Story: Fairlight - To the Edge of Midnight // by Bluespectre //------------------------------// CHAPTER NINETEEN GHOSTS OF THE EMPIRE Outside the compound the city looked little different in the general aspects of its architecture. The now familiar multi-faceted crystal was everywhere, broken up occasionally by gold, silver, occasionally a touch of marble here and there to accentuate the more prominent features, but when your basic building material was so beautiful, anything else only made it look tasteless and vulgar. Gone now where the plainer functionary buildings of the excise and customs offices, replaced instead by grander, taller, and more intricately carved homes, shops, bathing houses, and all the other trappings associated with life in a grand city such as this. This place, this incredible city, was straight out of the pages of a fairytale, and yet empty of the one thing that made it what it was – life. Vela was back at the compound with Lyrin, trying to coax more of the distillate from the probe on the roof. What they were going to actually do with it was something I hadn’t asked, and also something my wendigo friends had decided not to tell me in any case. Still, I had agreed to help them despite my reservations. My reasons however, I kept to myself. For now. Amhar we had decided to leave behind too. That stallion was a mental train wreck, and I suspected it would take quite some time for him to recover from what he’d experienced. I’d seen far too many like him before, both in person and in the tribal memories. The expression on their faces, the looks in their eyes and the anguish in their voices, never changed. Ten years, a hundred, a thousand… suffering never changes. Despite all our advances in science, thaumaturgy, education and medicine – had we really progressed as a society? As a people? I doubted there was much a pony from the days of the four tribes would see that was all that different from today’s world. And now here I was, running into danger like a fool. I never learned either it seemed. There was something else though, something that I’d noticed the moment I stepped outside the nullification field. Magic. It hit me almost immediately: a cold, refreshing, and incredibly vibrant energy that flooded into me with so much force it nearly took me off my hooves. After being apart from it during my time in the compound I nearly neighed with the sheer joy of it filling me once more. I could feel the spirit of the wendigo within me, for once compliant and unexpectedly willing. I think the others could sense it too, and despite the trepidation about following in the hoofsteps of the previous party we moved on with a will and a lightness of step. I was travelling light too, my weapons strapped in place over my barding and carrying only one set of panniers – the ones Briar had repaired for me. Call me sentimental, but I had a good feeling about keeping such simple things close; a kind of comfort if you will. I’d been like that as a colt too. When I’d received gifts of novelty soap, chocolate or the like, I would never use it. Instead, I would keep it in its box, displayed for all to see - or just me. Mum thought it was strange, but then she probably thought a lot of things were strange. Never herself of course, but that was something you just got used to after years of living with somepony. Our hooves clattered over the cobbled road, echoing off the buildings and sounding unnaturally loud in the deathly silence of the city. Ahead of us the palace loomed over it all, tall, majestic, and almost blending with the sky in the murky blend of pastel colours. Pinks, blues, reds… It was what I would imaging taking a trip through the lower intestine would look like after a bad night out on beer and curry. In short, it was stomach churning. I gave myself a mental shake and tore my eyes away from the sky. Staring straight ahead certainly helped, but you still knew the sky was there, hovering over you as if alive… and watching you. Lyrin had said the princesses had torn this whole city, Sombra and all, from the land of Equestria and locked it away in a ‘dimensional pocket’ or something. If I didn’t know better I’d swear that stallion was Star Swirl’s long lost twin, and the gods know that with everything else that had been going on it wouldn’t have come as that much of a surprise either. Doctor, scientist, soldier; was there anything this guy didn’t have his hooves in? And now that I thought about it, how come he wasn’t the stallion calling the shots? He seemed to know a damned sight more than Vela about what was going on and didn’t have the personality of a pissed off boar either. Fortunately he’d given our merry little troop the map Amhar had been using, and I had a good idea whereabouts the poor sod had dropped the staff too. I’d kind of expected Vela to go berserk and have him filleted then and there like villains were wont to do. But to my surprise he hadn’t. He didn’t strike me as the forgiving type either, especially after what the swine had done to Clarion, regardless of his perceived justification for it. It was just his eyes that gave me pause. They were full of resolve, a righteous belief in what he was doing. This guy was the real deal alright, he truly believed wholeheartedly in their mission, and I doubted anything could change his mind nor alter the course he was on. And rightly or wrongly, I was part of this now. The least I could do was see it through and go where the winds of fate blew my sorry bones next. There were six of us altogether, including myself. Lyrin seemed to think I was going to be of some use to them in fending off the ‘guardians’ but personally I had my doubts. Even with my wendigo magic it was impossible to tell what I could do against… no, not ‘ghosts’, ‘magical traps’. Yes, magical traps, that was more like it. They were traps meant to frighten ponies away or, as one of Amhar’s party had discovered, far worse. We’d encountered magical traps ourselves in the watch of course, but usually only when we were raiding a major drug dealer’s, searching for contraband, weapons - that sort of thing. But then there was that time we’d come across the notorious ‘collector of fine antiquities’. From what his widow had told us, his father had been an adventurer and had brought back a lot of odds and ends from his explorations across Equestria and beyond. Unfortunately for the son not everything daddy had brought back was benign, and there had been something in the collection that had turned the poor bugger into jam. His wife, a unicorn, had felt a strange magical build up in the seconds before her husband’s death, and that was what had prompted her to check the basement. That was when we were called in. Hubby had been liberally sprinkled across the hoarded exhibits, the epicentre of it all an innocent looking little note book with a simple silver crescent moon embossed on the cover. Our magic detectors went off the chart when we moved near it and we took the only sensible course of action we could: we got the hell out of there and called in the CBI. The suits were all to happy to take over that little treasure trove, and personally? I was glad to put it out of my mind. Historical artefacts I may find interesting, but the possibility of being blasted into particles you could spread on your toast in the morning was more than enough to douse even the most fervent of history buffs. If only our victim hadn’t have been an earth pony he may have realised something was up. Still, it posed the question – how come dad didn’t get minced? Who knew? One of the things I’d learned over the years was that spell matrices could be tuned so they were activated only by very specific triggers. It could be anything from a particular time and date, the proximity of a member of a particular species, or even somepony within range wearing a certain coloured sweater. It was entirely down to the creativity of the spell’s maker, which only served to make them all the more terrifying. Hadn’t there been that whole floating tangerine business down on fourth and twelfth street? Yes… yes, I remember now. The owner had employed a young unicorn filly who he’d tried to dally with. After she’d spurned his advances the sour old swine sacked her and then the next day, when he’d opened up the shop, he’d been attacked by his own fruit. Not only that, but an entire consignment of tangerines that arrived began to float away and throw itself at passers-by including the mayor of the city who got one right in the eye. The unfortunate shopkeeper had been prosecuted for public endangerment, but as for the filly, rumour has it she was whisked away to ‘Celestia’s school for gifted unicorns’. And that, as they say, was that. A neatly closed case with only a few brain cells required. Coming back to the present, we’d reached the point where the tracks we were following from the previous ‘expedition’ diverged. The leader of our band took out his map and waved me forward, “I want you up here with me from here on in,” he announced. “If you have the power to change into your wendigo form, I would suggest you do it now.” “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” I asked. “It’s entirely possible the use of magic could attract the guardians, and who knows how sensitive these traps are. Personally I’d rather just keep it to hoof in case we need it later.” “You can detect traps passively?” he asked. “Some,” I answered honestly. “The best way to do it is by feel and the old fashioned way of watching where you step. From what Amhar said the staff was taken away from its original location, so I’m hoping the alarm spells will have reset themselves.” Another wendigo stepped up, “I think he’s right, Irtha. If we use active magic in this place it could be like sending up a flare announcing our presence.” And then something amazing happened. Irtha, our leader, said something I never thought I’d ever hear, “Agreed. Fairlight, you have watch experience, yes?” I nodded. “Good,” Irtha continued, “Stay up here with me and let me know if you pick anything up. The rest of you keep together. Any movement, sound, magic, anything at all, you speak up immediately. Understood?” Everypony nodded. “Let’s move out ponies.” I couldn’t keep the look of shock from my face. Who the hell was this guy? Every time I’d dealt with ‘leaders’ in the mortal world, or even in the afterlife for that matter, I ended up dealing with some cock who always thought they knew best. The results were usually a right frigging disaster too. This trip out was beginning to get more and more interesting for, I hoped, all the right reasons. “We’re not trying for the heart first?” I asked. Irtha shook his head, “Not from what Amhar told us.” We set off again, heading away from the palace square. “We’ve altered our plans to target only the staff,” he continued. “We can always come back to the heart later if need be, but I’m not risking coming back with nothing.” I had to admit, he had a point. Still, I would have liked to have seen this ‘heart’ thing they’d been talking about. I had presumed from the tales that it was more of a metaphor for the centre, or the ‘heart’ of the city. In other words, the palace. From what I’d been able to glean from listening to Lyrin, Vela and Amhar, it was in fact some kind of actual physical artefact. What it was and what their use for it would have been, who can say. Right then I was trying to keep my focus on the road ahead, the empty buildings around us, and to not dwell on the empty stares of the innumerable statues frozen at the moment of going about their daily business. One however, struck a chord with me as we trotted by. It was a theatre. Even over a millennia old the design of the huge building was unmistakable as to its purpose. It was tall, with large arches lining the frontage with equally grand steps leading towards the open double doorway. As if that wasn’t enough of a clue then there were the dozens of carriages parked outside, the taxi drivers helping down the ladies, the ridiculous dresses, the obscenely oversized hats, the pretentiously suited stallions, and of course the bored looking children who were only interested in stuffing themselves with treats. It was all here. The only thing missing were the dozens of lit lamps, the music spilling out onto the pavement and the ticket touts trying to fill the last few remaining seats. Memories of my night at the theatre jostled for attention in my mind, demanding I sit through them as I had had to sit through the original performance. Well, the part I actually had managed to sit through before I’d ended up emptying my guts into the sodding toilet bowl anyway. That’s not to say there weren’t parts of it I did enjoy of course. The part about the wendigo was genuinely interesting, and even if it had been mostly fantasy, there was usually some kernel of truth there. What was his name again? I couldn’t quite remember, and now my horn was starting to play up too which only… Uh,oh. “Hold up!” I held held up a hoof as we came to a halt. “What is it?” Irtha said quickly. “A trap?” “Not sure,” I said quietly. “My horn’s itching. There’s a magical field nearby. Can’t you feel it?” Irtha closed his eyes, “No. I can’t feel... Wait. Yes, there is something there. It’s faint, but… damn it, it could be anything.” Two of others chimed in, pointing towards a low building that I wasn’t surprised to see had several sets of hoofprints leading though the dust to the main entrance. Worryingly, only one set came out. I took a breath, “This is it boys. How do want to play it, Irtha?” “I think you’re the one with the most experience in these things, Fairlight.” The stallion took a breath and smiled, “Personally, I’d run in, grab the staff, and run the buck out of there as fast as I could. I’m guessing you’d do things differently though?” “Not really,” I said with a shrug. “In an ideal situation I would’ve sent at least one in who didn’t have magic since earth ponies are less likely to trigger magical traps, but since we’re all unicorns that options out.” I scratched my chin in thought, “I’d like to think that the traps have already been triggered and won’t reset themselves, but since this magic is a lot different to the anything I’ve ever encountered we’d be wise to assume that they’re all still live. Personally I’d use the two ponies I trusted the most to maintain their self control and not use magic unless as a last resort. The rest I’d keep outside to keep an eye out for trouble. The first sign of danger and we get the hell out of here. We can always rethink our strategy if we’re still alive. When you’re dead, you’re a bit short on available options.” “Understood.” Irtha glanced at his team and then to me, “You and me then?” “Sounds like a plan,” I smiled. “Let’s do it.” Walking inside the building was strange to say the least. Not so much because of the unusual surroundings, nor even the multitude of lab coated ponies sitting behind desks or carrying clipboards frozen in time like the rest of the populace, but rather the fact that it was so unnaturally cold. I could see my breath in here, and if that wasn’t alarming enough there was also a peculiar sensation of what I can only describe as ‘energy’, hanging in the air. I’d noticed it the moment we passed through the doorway. Whatever it was made my hide prickle uncomfortably. “You feel that?” I whispered. Irtha, following behind me in single file nodded, “Like we’re being watched?” “Bugger me...” I took a breath and shivered, motioning to the trail of hoofprints, “At least we know where our ponies went.” “Second floor, research and development department,” Irtha intoned. “You can read that?” I asked, noting the small sign with the arrow beside the staircase. Irtha shrugged, “Some of us still used it when I was growing up,” he answered quietly. “Not much call for it nowadays though.” I nodded my understanding. Gods, what I wouldn’t give to have a week here poking around and nosing into the world of the empire! Of course, being turned to ash by ancient traps was a bit of a turn off, but the call to adventure was one that I’d never really lost despite being a bit more of a miserable sod these days than I was when I was a youngster. Girding my metaphorical loins we trotted up the stairs, following the numerous scuffs and scrapes that looked like somepony had raced down them at a dangerously high speed. Considering the state Amhar was in when he’d got back to the compound, there were no prizes for guessing who the prints belonged to. Risking a broken leg the way he did spoke volumes to what the poor bugger had seen here. It sure as hell didn’t do much for my state of mind either. We reached the doorway to the first floor and cautiously peered inside. The strange light of the city flooding through ancient windows illuminated the interior, hi-lighting the forms of various ponies sat at desks covered in paperwork or otherwise carrying on with the more mundane tasks associated with office work. It looked to be more administration than anything else, and the hoofprints entered here before coming back out and heading off upstairs. These were unhurried, and very different to the deep gouges that lead back down the way we’d come. We decided to skip this floor and keep heading up. Sure enough, the next flight took us to an area that had my horned itching furiously. Something didn’t seem right at all... “Amhar said he dropped the staff at the top of the stairs,” I observed. “I can’t see anything. Can you?” Irtha shook his head, “Not a damned thing. There’s no sign of a struggle here either.” I had to agree. I leaned down and checked the floor. “Three pairs come in, one comes out. Gotta be Amhar’s.” We exchanged a silent look which said more than words could at that moment. Something was wrong, and we could both sense it now. Magic field or not, there was a feeling creeping through me that I hadn’t experienced since my days in the watch. It was the thrill of the investigation, the hunt for clues and evidence, the motive… and the victim. Dear goddesses, was that what was happening here? I clopped my colleague on the shoulder, “Irtha, stay close. Don’t touch anything, and don’t use any magic for Luna’s sake.” Irtha nodded, “Understood.” The next room was a different animal altogether from the previous one. The sensation of something ‘energetic’ hanging in the air was stronger now, so strong in fact that I could almost taste it with every breath I took. And the cold! Thank the gods we were wendigo, or else we would have been running the risk of hypothermia merely by walking into this damnable place. I almost expected to see ice, or at least frost, lining everything around us. But there was nothing. For all intents and purposes it looked like the room downstairs, as if time had simply stopped during a normal day at the office. I tossed my mane. Magic. It had to be. We moved slowly into the dimly lit room, past the rows of desks, past the ponies leaning over various experiments, stacks of paperwork, and what looked to be numerous scientific projects the purposes of which I wouldn’t even begin to speculate at. It was like a waxworks, and I’d never liked those bloody places to begin with. I’d gone to one with Meadow when we’d been on holiday in Fillydelphia. According to the tour guide the place had been based on the life of some nutty old lunatic who’d been around during the war with the Legion. She’d made wax sculptors of Nightmare Moon’s executed victims for some bloody sick reason. Thankfully there were no severed heads staring at us from the past when we’d gone, and instead it was all modern politicians, singers, actors, and of course ‘Sun Butt and Loony’ themselves. Even Nightmare Moon had been depicted in very her own ‘hall of villainy’ beside other notable weirdos I’d never heard of. Rumour had it that Celestia had her own garden of statues in Canterlot where monsters and the very worst criminals were sentenced to eternal petrification for all to see. I don’t know if any of that was true, but looking at this place it suddenly looked a damned sight more than just a rumour. Away from the palace our beloved princess, the dreaded ‘white witch’ of the wendigo, struck me as a kindly old kook who lived with several dozen cats. Dare I say it, but she seemed almost ‘normal’ when she was with Rush. Perhaps he ‘grounded’ her somehow, offering her something close to a normal life the likes of which she’d never known growing up with such a frightening level of responsibility. I’d seen this kind of transformation when I’d worked for the watch, albeit on a far smaller level. When the uniform was on, the wearer was the definitive authority figure, and others treated you as such. But take that self same pony out of the uniform and they were a different creature altogether than the one the public saw. It was, to some degree anyway, almost like having a split personality – one for work, and one for home. You got used to it. In the case of Celestia however, as nice as she may have been to me in Rush’s home, I doubted I’d be visiting her for a cup of tea and a biscuit in her chambers in the palace. One piece of advice I was given by my tutor for when I was dealing with the upper classes came to mind - don’t open the closet! In Celestia’s case there were far more than skeletons in there. Gods above, Equestrian history wasn’t just bloody, it was damned well soused in it. No wonder we didn’t get much trouble from the neighbours these days. I looked around the room for anything that might give me a clue as to what had been going on in here. But gods above, this bloody language! Signs abounded, littering the walls and doors with everything from warnings about washing your hooves to making sure you locked the doors. It was only thanks to the friendly cartoons next to the scratchy writing that I had any idea what I was looking at. As for traps though, there was nothing I could see, and it was no wonder. We were right in the middle of a busy research lab, so why would there be? Irtha and I moved further in, careful to dodge around the frozen ponies, keeping to the hoof prints as much as we could. And that was something else that kept running through my mind over and over again too: three sets of hoof prints. Three come in, one goes out. Three… Three come in. One goes out… Something wasn’t adding up here. Irtha moved closer, keeping his voice down, “Fairlight? There’s another flight of stairs.” I nodded, “I see them.” Maybe that was it then. Amhar had said he dropped the staff after banging into something and tumbling down the stairs. What we sought therefore was most likely at the top. And also, what we didn’t want to find. I steeled myself, checked Irtha was right behind me, and moved onward. Sure enough there were the now familiar scuff marks coming down. Hoof marks on the wall had chipped the paint, with wide areas in the dust showing when Amhar had fallen bodily down them. And also...yes… “What is it?” Irtha whispered. I lifted my hoof to my nose and sniffed, “Blood.” It was fresh too. “Come on.” We moved up the stairs one at a time, weapons at the ready, but what use they would be was more than likely somewhere between nil and buck all. Still, at least it helped me focus and steady my mind. The last thing I wanted was to be thinking about… ‘those’ things. What was funny however was that in the mortal realm, Irtha and I would be the ghosts. So that being the case, how could a ghost be afraid of ghosts? Well that made perfect sense didn’t it! Gods, what a world! I huffed away my intrusive thoughts and focussed on my surroundings. Two floors… Only there were really three. So, ground floor was office space, first floor admin, second floor research and development, and a door at the far end of the second that lead… where? The roof? The doors were open at the top, and I suddenly froze, trying to get my racing heart rate under control. There was nothing here that could harm me. I was already dead, so what was there to fear? Reincarnation? Pah! I didn’t fancy it sure, but it wasn’t the end of everything. Only… only me. But who said I was going to die again, huh? “Fairlight?” “Huh?” I gave myself a shake, “I’m okay, Irtha. Just thinking.” The stallion glanced past me into the dark room, “What’s that flashing light?” Steeling myself I stuck my head round the door and stared into the gloom. There were no windows here. No windows, no skylights, only a flashing red light above a door. Hoofprints lead towards it, but all three sets lead away. What the hell was going on here? We walked further in, past what seemed to be a security desk of some kind. Uniformed soldiers stood or sat around, still at their posts, the red glowing light picking out details of their surprisingly practical armour and weapons. I don’t know what I’d expected, but the crystal empire had always given me the impression of a place where it was all shiny armour, feathers, and… well, crystal I suppose. These guys looked to be wearing the kind of armour that wouldn’t have looked out of place in the watch! Strange indeed. We sidled past them, keeping an eye out for traps. My horn was still itching but had at least calmed down enough to allow me to focus on where the field was most concentrated, and- Oh… Oh, hell… “What is it?” Irtha looked past me into the side room. “Oh no… Kyrna.” There are some things you can never un-see, and this was one of them. The stallion before us had been split from throat to pelvis and pinned to wall with some kind of surgical apparatus. Blood soaked his fur, his eyes open wide and staring. “Kyrna,” I frowned in thought, studying the body. “You’re sure? Not Wythe?” Irtha shook his head, “No. That’s definitely Kyrna.” Interesting. “Why? What’s wrong?” Irtha asked. “It could be nothing,” I said quietly. I looked at the bed in the corner, the restraints, the strange magical equipment sitting there silently. “Amhar said that Kyrna had triggered a trap that incinerated him when he tried to levitate the staff from its holder.” “Maybe he was mistaken,” Irtha reasoned. “He was terrified after all.” “He was,” I replied quietly. “He was also uninjured.” “What about the blood on the stairs?” Irtha asked. “Could be from an injury we hadn’t seen.” “That amount?” I examined the restraints. Whoever had been here had put up one hell of a fight judging by the teeth marks. “Could be from Kyrna or Wythe,” I added. “What’s the sign over the door say?” Irtha moved back and frowned in thought for a moment, “Specimen Containment.” “Specimen containment,” I repeated. Damn, things were starting to add up here, and not to anything good. “Come on, let’s see where the hoofprints go next.” We stepped outside and turned down the dark corridor. I wished to the goddess I could have used my magic here, even just for a small light, but it wasn’t to be. Even the lamps the wendigo had were magically powered and had been left behind just in case they triggered one of the traps. In fact the only light we had was the now ever present flashing red light. The red light that was flashing over the door right in front of us. “Irtha?” I prompted. “Soul Capture and Reassignment,” he read. “The other sign says, ‘Level Four Access Required. See front desk duty officer for access keys.” “I don’t think we’ll need to,” I noted, pointing to the large set poking out of the bottom key hole. “Not a magical lock then. Interesting.” We walked inside. And into hell itself. The smell was the first thing that hit me, and sent my wendigo spirit squirming with anticipation. Even a cursory glance around the room in the mind warping flashing red glare was nothing I would ever wish to see again. The colour masked most of it, but you couldn’t disguise the sheen. It was red. Everything was red. I could hear Irtha retching outside as he hung onto the door frame emptying his guts. I couldn’t blame him, my own stomach was doing its best to eject what little breakfast I’d had this morning. I wiped my muzzle, concentrating on trying to work out just what had happened here. There was a bed in one corner, but not one for sleeping. Lying atop it was a frozen statue, frozen in a pose of abject torture and anguish. Toppled over, two lab-coated ponies holding clipboards lay smothered in blood. But... statues don’t bleed, and stone doesn’t ooze the thick, sticky fluid that once pumped through veins, artery and heart. The one whom that precious force of life had once held within their body sat against the wall, a curled metal and wood stave rammed down through their mouth and exiting through the cavity where their organs had once been. And the smell… Dear goddess, the smell… “Fairlight...” Irtha croaked from the doorway, “The staff. We… We need to...” “I know,” I said quietly. “Wait outside, Irtha.” I took a breath, “Best cover your ears too.” I took hold of the thing the best I could. Dear Luna, forgive me for this. I couldn’t use magic and I wished to all the gods and goddesses I could have. Carefully, I wrapped a cloth I’d found around the staff, braced myself against the remains of the wendigo warrior, and pulled. My stomach lurched, my body shaking with the effort, and then, mercifully, it came free. I wish I could have at least said a few words, or covered him properly somehow. All I could manage was a thin blanket from beside the bed which would hide his eyes from the cruelty he had suffered, and my silent prayer for his soul. He would be on his way for reincarnation now. Thank the gods he wouldn’t remember this when he was reborn. There are some things, terrible things, that a mind cannot see and still remain untouched. As for my own… I would never forget what I’d seen this day. Outside in the corridor, Irtha was wiping his muzzle and took a swig from his canteen. “Is it done?” “I have the staff,” I said quietly. I’d given it a wipe with what I could find in there, but it was still covered in gore. Unfortunately, so I was I now. The voice booming through the corridor came as a complete surprise, and one that sent another shiver through my veins. Urtha. Urtha. Esvata ques estai constistanti unum. Destata merdinus empara. We looked at each other in amazement as Irtha went a horrible shade of white. He mouthed the word as much as spoke it. “Run.” Bells began to sound around us, louder and louder, reverberating through the ground and up through our hooves. Urtha. Urtha. Esvata ques estai constistanti unum. Destata merdinus empara. We hit the doorway full tilt, hurtling down the stairs as fast as our legs would carry us. The sound of the bells was all around now, screaming its warning to the stone warriors of the empire. At any moment I expected them to come to life like golems in the old stories - constructs of magic and despicable minds. They could have done for all I cared. My mind was focussed on only one thing: getting us out of there alive, and in one piece. Urtha. Urtha. Esvata ques estai constistanti unum. Destata merdinus empara. Flight after flight, along the corridor, the entrance hall - Irtha and I burst from the building like corks from a champagne bottle. The others were outside, staring at us in bewilderment. “What is it? What’s happening?” “Run!” Irtha yelled, “Just run, and don’t look back!” Gods, I could feel it now. The mist, the things coming towards us. They knew we were there, that we had intruded in their home. Now… Now they were coming for us. I glanced over my shoulder and saw it. It was just like Amhar had said. The fog, the shapes within it, the way they swirled and flowed, billowing towards us. “Fairlight, if you’ve got some magic in you then for the goddess’s sake you’d better pull it out of the bag now, or we’re all dead!” Irtha shouted. Need. Desire and need. Strong emotions brought the wendigo out from its slumber readily. Almost as readily as the promise of nourishment. My spirit had fed well during the fight in Tartarus, but now it was time for its other great passion – battle. I can’t remember ever changing on the move before, but by the gods it worked. My wings freed themselves from my back without so much as a twinge, my teeth itching, my muscles burning and my eyesight taking on that blue hint which I once found so frightening, and now… now I longed for it. I needed it. Oh, the sheer joy of it all! I found myself smiling despite the sensation of fear I was picking up on from the others. I could smell them, their alarm driving my desire to engage with our enemy and drive them into the cold, hard ground. There would be no more running. “Fairlight?” Irtha slid to a halt and stared at me in amazement. “What the hell are you doing?!” I grabbed the staff and threw it to him. “Go,” I called as he caught it, “Go and don’t look back. Get to the compound and I’ll find you there.” He hesitated, but only for a second. Irtha gave a single nod, “Goddess bless you, brother.” I didn’t look to see if he’d gone. I could feel the vibration from their hooves thundering away, the sensation of distance increasing from my warriors. My warriors. Ah, loyalty. Such a fickle thing. Amhar’s description had been right on the nose. The very same fog he’d run from was rolling closer by the second, the figures inside it indistinct but still clearly equine in form. Whoever had designed this had done a good job. Although, this didn’t smell of Celestia’s work. No. My wendigo memories surged forth, calling to me, bringing me to them and them to me as images of battles past tantalised me with their distant allure and the thrill of war. My scythe would do little here, but my magic was still a match for this. I was a match for this. The words of the warning played back through my mind, ‘Urtha. Urtha. Esvata ques estai constistanti unum. Destata merdinus empara’. Yes. Yes, it made so much more sense now. The final piece had dropped into place. The picture... revealed. At last. At last! My magic flowed around my hooves, pulsing and alive like breath itself. I could send a blast of concentrated magic into the fog, but it would do nothing. I knew this. I could read its incantation as easily as reading the open pages of a book. Instead, I let my magic flow out, the misty fog of the northern winters meeting the fog of the ancient world. And where they met lighting flowed like molten silver. And stopped. I took a step forward, listening to the hidden song of the incantation, the threads of the matrix of magic - the soul of the spell. It was near, and it would follow me as surely as a dog follows its master. I had wronged it, and it would take me as it would any other intruder in into its lair. I let it. I teased it, tested it, drew upon its single motivation and followed the thread of magic as fine as a single spider thread. I walked on. Not hurrying. Not running. Every step brought a hiss of magic, the spell throwing itself at my own, the figures walking around the swirling flashes of lightning looking for a way in, a way to reach the one who had dared to intrude. The one who had stolen from them. I smiled. I was so near now, the thread of magic drawing me to it almost as though it were willing me there itself. And it was old. So very old. The consciousness of ages, sewn into its form and being, had brought a sense of self its creators had never envisaged. And yet it was here, awakened. And it was angry. “Child,” I whispered, “You have served you master well.” I sensed the thought as much as heard the whisper of magic in my ears. It was tired. So, so tired. “It is time to sleep now.” I closed my eyes and lifted my head, “Your task is done.” Relief. Thanks. Emptiness… The spell matrix, so old and yet so strong in both will and form, slowly began to fade, breaking apart as it mingled with the magic of my spirit. I drew it in. Little by little, thread by thread, the magic of the city blended with the magic of the wendigo, and I drank deeply. Deep as the oceans depths… ******************** And whom do we have here? Another visitor so soon to my home? Ah! I see now. Yes. A child of the mountains no less. A child of the white one, of the netherworld, and that of the witch and the darker spawn of the all father. What are you doing here, child of the mountains? What is it that you seek in my sleeping home? What is it that you would wake the souls of the lost to find? Ah… of course! Oh, sweet child, how the wheels of destiny turn. How the threads of the weave begin to grow in the loom of the old mare. Threads long since rotted to nothing sprout anew from the dead ground to bloom once more in the sunlight. And you, my little thread. You shall be the first thread within the tapestry of our new story. The story that awaits only for the cover to be opened, and the first page to be turned. Read on, child of the mountains. Read on. ******************** I ran. Gods, how I ran! The fog had gone, but the words remained, fading quickly as a breath on a cold window pane. Had I passed out? I don’t know, I wasn’t sure. All I was sure of now was that I had to move like the wind. I had to run, run and follow the hoof prints along the road to the open gates of the compound. Closer and closer, my hooves thundering over the cobbles. I was nearly there. Only a few more yards. Only a few more... “VELA!” I burst in though entrance, forgetting about my wendigo power too late. My magic winked out in an instant and I was suddenly a unicorn again, stumbling into one of the four who had come before me. “Vela…” I gasped desperately. “Where is he? Irtha? Are they…?” “We all made it back, brother.” Irtha stepped out from the base of the tower, reaching out to help his comrade catch me as my hind legs gave out. “Dear goddess, what happened back there?” “Irtha,” I breathed, “Where’s Amhar?” I grabbed at his tunic, “Damn it, Irtha, where is he?!” “He’s in the tower,” the grey stallion said uncertainly. “Why? What’s going on?” “No time,” I gasped. “Draw you sword, and let’s hope we’re not too late.” Irtha went ahead with his brothers, rushing up the stairs as I brought up the rear, willing my damned legs to move. I couldn’t use the magic here. I had to rely on myself and my body to pull together and make this happen. Rounding the top of the stairs, the shouting began. Neighs, whinnies and snorts rang through the tower and echoed down the stairs. I willed myself on, reaching the top floor and the sight that I had prayed I wouldn’t see. It was Amhar. The sneering creature was stood on his hind legs with Vela pinned against the wall and Amhar’s sword pressed into his throat. He was still alive, but in obvious pain. Beside them, moaning in a pool of blood, was the ragged form of Lyrin. Irtha and the others stood before me, swords drawn and all shouting at once. From downstairs I heard the door bang and the low rumbling shouts of Herath and the rest. “One of you go down and stop Herath before we have a bloodbath on our hooves,” I ordered levelly. “But-” “DO IT!” I roared. “Do you want your brothers to live, stallion?” The stallion nodded and dashed away. My focus then shifted to the yellow eyes of the one holding Vela. “Hail the conquering hero comes,” Amhar smiled drily. “You escaped too, I see.” “Apparently,” I replied quietly. I waved the others back, giving myself some room, “Care to tell me your name?” The stallion snorted, “You’re the clever one, clever boy. You tell me, hmm? Who is the little dickie bird who flew from his cage in the morning sun.” I reached into my satchel and took out a worn sheet of paper which I passed to Irtha, “You can read this language. Read it aloud.” “Read…?” Irtha blinked in surprise, but held up the paper in his hooves and read, “Subject forty four. Blue Quartz. Earth stallion. Age, twenty two. Son of Emerald Quartz and Wide River. Arrested on the fourteenth day of the winter nights draw. Crimes: Petty theft, burglary, actual bodily harm, sexual assault, rapine, attempted murder, murder, passing stolen information to enemies of the state, treason...” Irtha paused, “It goes on.” “You’ve been a busy boy, Blue,” I said addressing the stallion holding Vela. “Quite a clever trick you pulled back there.” “You’re the clever boy, clever little horny head.” The creature Amhar had become stared at me with undisguised loathing, all wrapped up in the foaming mouth of hate filled insanity, “You want your shiny friends? Pretty friends. Yes?” “Where’s Amhar?” I asked. “Tell me where he is.” “He’s here,” Blue Quartz smirked, “Squeaking and squawking, bawlin’ and yellin’, but I aint tellin’!” He suddenly began shrieking with laughter, “You get me out, clever horny head. You get me out and you have your pretty friend as alive as alive-o, or we’ll play stabby stab with your horny friend here.” He gave Vela a shove, making him hiss in pain. “Fairlight, what the hell is going on?” Irtha whispered. “Isn’t that Amhar?” “No.” I shook my head slowly, never letting my gaze shift from Blue Quartz. “You’ve been here all along, haven’t you Blue? You’ve been trapped in that staff all these years, when all you needed was for somepony to come along and finish the spell.” “Oh, clever dickie bird!” Blue Smirked wickedly. “Clever boy, you!” I ignored him and continued, “Amhar, Kyrna and Wythe walked into the room and inadvertently blundered right into the middle of a soul transfer. One that had been started just as the dimensional spell hit the city.” I kept my eyes fixed on the crazed stallion before me. “It’s a procedure intended to pull the soul from a prisoner who was to be executed, and, I suspect, replaced by somepony else. A dignitary, a politician maybe… it doesn’t matter. They were in the bed in the room right next to one with the staff.” Blue’s eyes bulged, “Doesn’t matter, doesn’t matter, doesn’t matter, DOESN’T MATTER!” Spittle flew from his mouth as he raved. “They wanted to kill me! KILL ME! But I beat them, yes indeed. Yes, yes, yes! The old pig wanted the little pig’s body, but I was in there. Me. ME! So they try to pull me out into the stick so the old pig can steal me. But then the magic came and I was stuck. Stuck in the stick. Stick, stuck, buck and pluck. Stucking, stocking, stinking, stick.” “One of the Amhar’s team used magic to levitate the staff from its holder and you used that like a lightning rod, jumping from the staff into his body.” I had his full attention now. “From there you did what you did best, right Blue? You killed Kyrna and Wythe. Wythe was first, but Kyrna tried to run, and you cornered him in the room where you had been kept before the procedure, didn’t you? And you so wanted to take revenge on the ponies who had done this to you. It didn’t matter that the pony in front of you hadn’t harmed you, did it? You just wanted to vent all that frustration, and Kyrna was right there in front of you. I saw the hoof print on the outside of the door, Blue. I saw the bloodied hoof prints coming out of the room, the cloth you had used to try and hide your crime. But then something happened, didn’t it? You triggered the alarm, and so you ran. You ran here in Amhar’s stolen body. The only question now, is why.” Blue Quartz hissed low in his throat, the knife in Vela’s back twitching. I had to stop this, and quickly. “What do you want Blue Quartz?” I asked. “What is it you’re after?” Whatever mind there had been in there, diseased or not, had gone, long, long ago. All that remained now was the very essence of malice, the desire for vengeance, and a burning need to pay back the world for every moment of every day he had been trapped, fully conscious, in that eternal nightmare prison of the damned. “I want to come with you,” he grinned. “Come along and along. Ponies to play with, yes? Play a game, you and me, me and you. Lots for us to see and do.” “Let Vela go,” I said calmly, “and we’ll talk.” “Oh, talk? Oh, yes! Like to talk,” Blue snorted. “Talk and trick me into your trickster trickery! Sneaking, sneaky, stallion! You won’t take me alive copper! NOT ALIVE! NOT NOW!” “Then come with us,” I smiled gently. “Come with us, Blue Quartz. Let us take you to the Eternal Herd where the sun shines brightly in the sky and the grass grows green all year round. The herd is calling to you, as it does for us all. Can’t you hear it? Listen… Listen...” Blue Quartz hesitated, his eyes focussing and unfocussing, “The… Herd?” “The place of rest for souls. All souls,” I said gently. “Whatever crimes you committed, Blue, you have paid for them. Its time for you to start again now. Time to be reborn, and live again. Throw off the chains, and come… come with me now.” The sword clattered to the floor, followed a moment later by Vela, cast aside and discarded. Blue said nothing. His eyes were on me, his expression one of desperation, pain, and probably for the first time in over a thousand years: hope. Slowly, shakily, he walked towards me. “Come, brother,” I smiled. “Let us go home now. There is so much for you to see.” “So much...” he echoed. “Home. I… I want to go home.” “We are going home,” I cooed warmly. “It’s time now. Come. Come with me.” We slowly descended the stairs. I could hear the rumble of hooves behind us as the others no doubt rushed to tend to Lyrin and Vela. I had to ignore it and focus on dealing with one problem at a time. And time was something I didn’t have. Lyrin was in trouble, and by the rate he was losing blood he didn’t have long. Vela was still an unknown, but he was conscious at least. “Come, Blue. We’re going home,” I said softly. “You’ll be able to run and play, and sing and dance under the warm summer sun. You’ll be able to eat such wonderful things as you have never tasted before. Come.” The stallion stumbled after me in a daze. He didn’t notice the others, nor the movement behind him. I don’t think he even felt the blow across his skull that Herath landed. Gods, he was still smiling as he sank to the ground. “Help me get him outside the nullification field, Herath. Quickly!” I slipped my foreleg under the fallen stallion, and together with Herath’s help we made for the gateway. Herath, I was surprised to note, never said a word. He’d noticed my mouthed words, my nod, and thank the goddess – my intention. Rather than run Blue through, he’d landed an expertly placed blow that rendered the pony senseless. And now, as the wash of magic filled me once more, as the wendigo spirit shivered through my body, it was my turn to work my own spell on this poor soul. “Home...” Blue whispered distantly, “Mother...” “Time to go home, Blue Quartz,” I said quietly. My teeth gently pressed into the warm hide of his neck, “Time to go home...” Herath stood behind me like an immovable wall of utter silence. He’d seen this before. Probably, he’d done this himself when he’d been alive too. It was uncouth, crude, considered cruel even by wendigo standards. But today, it was the only kindness I could bestow upon this broken creature. Today the soul of Blue Quartz was finally freed from his hell, and Amhar… I could only pray I’d done enough. The shock to his own soul, beaten and trampled down by the intrusion of Blue Quartz, may have been too much for him. He was still there though, quiet and afraid, but only time would tell whether he would ever fully return to us. Perhaps ending things more permanently for the two of them would have been the truer kindness. Woodenly, the stallion rose to his hooves, his eyes unfocussed and his legs quivering. “Herath, look after him. He’s been to a place nopony should ever go.” I closed my eyes and breathed in the stale air of the empire, “Have the others bring Vela and Lyrin here quickly.” He knew what to do. They had been where I was once before, and they would be again some day. Perhaps. I listened to the blood in my veins, the thrill of adventure tingling my hooves and wings. Oh, how I wanted to launch up into that sky and soar over the city! It wouldn’t take long, but if I did I could lose the vital seconds that could mean the difference between life and death for the two wendigo. I could hear them. I could sense them drawing nearer, carried by their brothers. One was weakened, but the other was near death. So, so near. Lyrin was first. Once outside the barrier I took his muzzle in my forehooves, brought him to me, and let him drink. Oh, and he was thirsty. So, so thirsty! The stallion pulled at me, weakly at first, and then stronger, scrabbling, pulling and… and then released. Gasping, I let him go into the hooves of the others as I turned my attention to Vela. The grey stallion was watching me in silence. His wound was not great, but the blood needed to be staunched. Carefully I checked his injury for any contaminant, but he was lucky. All I needed to do was put a little of my life essence into him and his body would do the rest. He didn’t resist either. There was a part of me that expected him to do just that, but he just lay there as I trickled the magic into his open wound. Vela grunted slightly, his only reaction to the flesh knitting itself back together as the skin covered it over, drip by drip, piece by piece, until only clean flesh remained. The fur would regrow, but the real work had been done. I had already drawn enough spirit for myself, but I was tired now. I needed to rest. “Fairlight?” Lyrin looked up at me, his eyes glinting in the eerie pink light of the strange land. “I…” he swallowed, “Thank you. Thank you, brother.” I smiled faintly, trickling the magic flow of the spirit back inside where it could sleep until needed once again. “You’re welcome, my friend.” I reached up and took his hoof, letting him help me to my hooves. Beside us, Vela said nothing. Back inside the tower, Vela, Lyrin and I, sat down beside the apparatus, carefully avoiding looking at the blood stains that somepony had had the wherewithal to at least try to clean up. “I never thought I’d experience that again,” Lyrin exclaimed, rubbing his shoulder. “Damn, that’s been a few years! Anyway, how did you know Amhar wasn’t who he said he was? What tipped you off?” I leaned back and gazed up at the ceiling, “Urtha. Urtha. Esvata ques estai constistanti unum. Destata merdinus empara”. “What?” Lyrin’s eyebrows shot up in amazement, “Do you know what that means?” I nodded, “Warning. Warning. Subject holding cell containment breach. Countermeasures deployed.” I shrugged, “The rest of it slotted into place. Our boy Blue didn’t have the time to cover his tracks properly and probably didn’t think we’d go back for the staff.” Lyrin looked fascinated, “You’re going to have to tell me full story, Fairlight.” “Another time,” I said with a tired smile. “One telling per day’s my limit I’m afraid.” “Huh! I always miss the best bits,” the grey fellow sighed. He started to reset the equipment, muttering to himself and cursing until finally he lifted a glass beaker and held it up to the light, “Thank the goddess we didn’t lose this.” It was like liquid gold, swirling in its container as if alive. “Do we need much more?” I asked. Lyrin shook his head, “I don’t believe so.” He looked up, “Vela? Do you have the codex with you?” The leader of the wendigo silently reached into his pack and withdrew a very familiar looking item. Instinctively my hoof moved to my pack, but out of the corner of my eye I caught the look Vela shot me and quickly changed it into a good scratching. He gave a condescending sniff and placed the cube on the floor between us. So much for mending bridges! “What does it do, this ‘codex’?” I asked. Vela answered this time, “It’s a roadmap of worlds,” he explained. He looked almost in awe of the thing, and maybe he was. I almost expected his eyes to start glowing. “It is a guide to the old world, and the new. The key to the ends of the world and to our rebirth.” How very cryptic! I bit back a sarcastic reply about it being unnecessarily overly dramatic, but somehow I doubted my observations would go down that well. Vela didn’t seem the sort that would take criticism well. Miserable sod. Maybe I should have left him with a bloody band-aid. “The staff,” Lyrin explained, “is the other part of the puzzle. If the portal is the door, then the staff is the key. The pathway beyond is opened with the codex.” “Well all I can say is I’m glad somepony knows what’s going on,” I huffed, stretching out my hind legs, “because I’m more baffled now than I was a minute ago. Lyrin, Vela, carry on gentlecolts.” I held out my hoof and grinned, “Right now, I’m going to do what I should have done from the beginning.” “What’s that?” Lyrin asked curiously. I held out a pouch of tobacco, “I’m going to have smoke.” “Well go up on the roof if you’re going to do that.” Lyrin got up and brushed off his cloak, “And be careful of the probe will you?” “Suit yourself,” I muttered. Miserable buggers. So off I set, panniers over my back, my cloak on my back to act as a makeshift picnic rug, and a bowl full of finest rough cut tobacco. A few seconds fiddling with the tinder box later and the world of delicious relaxation took me into its grey and smoky embrace. Ah, it didn’t get any better than this! I leaned back against the wall and let out a heartfelt sigh, feeling the tension begin to slowly but surely drift away from my body. I chuckled to myself; it wouldn’t be long now. Soon we’d be off on the next leg of the adventure and go… meh, wherever. Who the hell cared? Star Swirl, Celestia, bloody whats-is-face the barber, and Vela too – screw ‘em. Screw the whole bloody lot of them. None of them gave a toss about old Fairlight here, and let’s be honest, why should they? To them I was just another random guy. Sure, I could change into a wendigo, but if I dropped dead tomorrow they wouldn’t shed any tears. I was a pony to be used, an asset to be taken advantage of. Yeah… I took a draw on my pipe and stared up at the sky. Who knew what the future would bring? The poor buggers here didn’t know, and by the looks on the faces of the frozen ponies that lined the dead streets they’d been clueless about their fate too. To them the day the spell had hit had been just like any other. Regarding the sky though, it did seem a bit different from when I’d first seen it. The clouds were… moving? Hmm, yeah, they probably had been before and I just hadn’t noticed. I yawned and stretched out, rubbing my horn. Bloody thing was driving my nuts lately. I think it must have been all the magic from yesteryear that I wasn’t used to. Mum had always warned me about drinking water from unknown sources, and the same was true with magic. Strange spells and high magical density fields hung around in old places and were a constant danger. Suddenly my horn felt like the damned thing was on fire and I scratched at it furiously. Blast it! What the… I closed my eyes and took a breath. Magic. Here? I opened my eyes and looked up at the sky. At the clouds. “Oh… shit...” I kicked the probe away just before the lightning hit, and was already bolting down the stairs for all I was worth. Vela was there staring at me while Lyrin looked out of the window. “A storm?” The stallion turned to face me, “Gods damn it, the probe!” “Gone,” I answered quickly. “The bloody thing was acting like a lightning rod.” I began grabbing my things, “It’s dealt with, but the magic’s inside the field.” “The fields’ collapsing?” Vela spun to face Lyrin, “We have to move. There’s no more time.” “Damn it all!” Lyrin snatched up the cube and placed it on a chair he was using as a makeshift workbench. “Well,” he said lifting the bottle of liquid magic and slipping it into his pack, “if I buck this up now then we’re all screwed, but if we stay here we’re screwed. Personally I don’t intend to do either, so cross your hooves and pray to whatever god or goddess you want to.” He took a deep breath, “There’s no turning back now.” I think at that time, in that place, Vela and I were just as still as the statues outside in the sleeping city. Only the good doctor moved. Ever so slowly, in complete silence, the magic happened. One drop, the tiniest distilled drip of pure magic, fell onto the cube. I could feel my heart beating in my ears as I watched the next drop, and the next, and then the next. Each one fell, sat for a moment, and then was absorbed into the small wooden cube which sucked it up like a dry sponge. Faintly, and barely noticeably at that, I saw letters, lines and numbers, slowly begin to appear on the smooth black surface. Watching in fascinated silence I watched the characters glowing ever stronger with the same inner golden light as the distilled magical essence, gradually intensifying as the drops fell, one by one. From outside a rumble of thunder shook the building, and then a few seconds later a flash of brilliant white light burst through windows. Downstairs the door thumped open and we could hear shouting. Moments later, Herath entered. “We know,” Vela said without looking up. “The field’s collapsing.” In typical style, Herath said nothing and remained standing there waiting for orders. Right then I remember being surprised that Vela wasn’t screaming at Lyrin to hurry up. And personally, I think I found that the hardest part of all to accept. Magic was building up at a phenomenal rate right above our heads despite my knocking over of the probe. I dread to think what would have happened if I’d left the damned thing up, and it was only by sheer luck I’d snuck out for smoke when I had. Ha! Who said it was bad for you, eh? I returned my attention to Lyrin and the cube. I didn’t know how much that cube needed of the magical essence, but we were virtually down to the last few drops and the rumbling thunder was beginning to make my hair stand on end. Another flash of searing light burst around us and I knew if we didn’t do something soon we’d be in some serious- “Done!” Lyrin shot to his hooves so fast he upset the chair, but it didn’t matter now. The cube was complete, the last drop of magic used, and the focus of our attention was the stairs. Lyrin leading we dashed out of there, hurrying down into the lobby and out across the courtyard. “Herath, get the others.” Vela’s order sent the hulking beast running, but they were already heading towards us anyway, geared up and ready to go. I don’t know if there was some sort of psychic connection between these guys or whether they were just so desperate to get out of there they’d geared up in anticipation, but I was bloody glad of it either way. A boom of thunder rolled through the compound, and then… something utterly amazing happened. Rain. The first drops began to fall, splashing into the dust in near silence. Then more. And then even more. In seconds the heavens opened, the ground and us poor sods below caught in a deluge that made me curse the engineers who’d made the idiotic decision to build the bloody portal outside! Maybe there was a good reason for it, I don’t know, but you can take it from me that standing there in one of the heaviest downpours I’d ever had the misfortune to be in, with lightning and thunder all around you, makes you very appreciative of innovative concepts like having a blasted roof! Lyrin ran up the steps to the archway, the staff in his mouth. For a moment there I wondered if I’d told him exactly how I’d found that thing, but sometimes the less you knew the better. All I can say is thank the goddess for toothpaste! And so there we stood in the driving rain, watching the remarkable Lyrin dashing here and there doing whatever it was he was doing with the enigmatically named ‘master portal’. In all honesty it didn’t look all that much different from every other portal I’d ever seen, although rather unsurprisingly was made of the same colourful crystal as everything else around here. It was nicely carved of course, and had a particular feel to its magic that gave me goosebumps. And believe me, that was hard to tell in the middle of the raging storm descending on us. By now we were all absolutely drenched. Ignoring the rain, Lyrin was working with the control panel, tapping brightly coloured gems and then, the part I was waiting for. Herath passed him the staff, and he reached up, plunging it into some sort of holder on the back of the control panel and began attaching large cables with crocodile clips on the end. Next he opened a door on the side of the panel and inserted the glowing black and gold cube. Now things really started to happen. I watched in amazement as the staff began to glow with a bright white light that grew in intensity as the magic of the portal suddenly began to peak. My senses heightened, the magic within me tingling in concert with the incredible intensity of the field build up. Lights flicked on around the rim of the arch in that strange hoofwriting one by one, until finally the last one was lit, glowing red against the pink of the crystal. Lyrin took one last look to make sure everything was as it should be, and then pulled a lever on the panel. Finally, his task done, he began to back away, staring at the arch as the magic began to coalesce. Vela stepped forward, his ponies behind him. “It is… done,” he breathed. “Salvation. Home. A new life for us all.” My mane stood on end, both at his words and the flash of lightning that lit the courtyard. Suddenly Lyrin looked up, “We need to move! If we don’t go now the electricity could interfere with the matrix and-” “THEN LET’S GO!” Vela bowed his head, snorted, and turned to his people, “To the fore, brothers! To the fore!” A great bellow of neighs rolled out, matched by the rumble of hooves. The wendigo, at last, were on the move. One after another they ran into the liquid silver surface of the portal, and from there… who knew. Pony after pony vanished into the unknown until only myself and Lyrin were left. I girded my loins in good old style and stepped forward. “Hurry, Fairlight!” Lyrin stared up at the sky, “We don’t have time!” I took a breath and charged. Up the steps my hooves thundered, my muzzle touching the silver light, and… I looked down and saw the ground coming up to meet me. With a horrible thump I hit the dusty flagstones and slid to a halt. Lyrin was there in a flash, “Fairlight! Goddess almighty, are you alright? Are you hurt?” “Only my pride,” I huffed, “What the hell happened?” “I don’t know!” Lyrin ran back to the controls and began fiddling with the various dials and levers, “I… I don’t understand it!” He stared back at me, “I’ve calibrated it to send us to another master portal, but it’s meant to send souls. Yours shouldn’t be any different.” “Is it the wendigo magic?” I asked. “No! If it was you wouldn’t have been able to get here in the first place.” Lyrin shook his head in desperation, “The portal’s not accepting the calibration. It’s not making any sense! You’re a soul like us and-” I put a hoof on his shoulder, “Lyrin… I know why.” “What? Why?” I closed my eyes and smiled sadly, “Because part of me… is still alive.” “Still alive? You can’t be!” Lyrin’s eyes went wide. “That’s madness, Fairlight. You can’t be-” “But I am, Lyrin.” I flinched as the thunder crashed above us, the lightning blasting down and striking the tower with a sound like a million shattered china plates. “Go,” I said giving him a push, “GO! NOW!” “But-” “Get the buck out of here!” I roughly grabbed Lyrin by the collar and shoved him bodily up the steps. “Go before I kick you through there you damned fool!” “I’m not leaving you behind, Fairlight.” Lyrin snorted angrily, digging in his hooves. “Damn it, you’re my brother! You’re… you’re my friend!” I chuckled, the madness of the scene would probably be touching if we didn’t both look like drowned rats, “Lyrin, I’ll find a way. I’ll come home, and when I do you’d better have the bloody kettle on.” Lyrin shook his head, my words lost to him now. I leaned forward and took his shoulders in my forehooves, “Fortune favours the bold, brother. Always.” Lyrin’s face vanished backwards into the light. A moment later, right on cue, the lightning hit its target with almost predictable accuracy. The magical discharge was phenomenal, striking the staff and vaporising it in an instant. Beside it the control panel burst into flame, fizzled, and went out almost as fast. Gods… what a display. And what the hell was I going to do now? Somewhere, far beyond the churning clouds and the spell that held the ancients here in their frozen prison, the thunder echoed back and forth, its sonorous voice calling to the silent world below. Perhaps it was my imagination, or perhaps the way the raw energy of the storm resonated between the buildings of the crystal empire. But there, hidden amongst it all, I could hear them. The sound of the gods... laughing.