IT WAS THE fourth day. For the few that where still keeping track of time, it would have been the fourth day. For the others it was ninety-six hours. Ninety-six hours of perpetual darkness, unexplained manual labor, and unspeaking warriors clad in black at every corner.
The air grew still and the clouds parted in the sky, casting the moon's glow over the Socialist Territory of Ponyville. The flags and banners slowly came to a halt and hung limp, and snow reflected a dull glow onto the buildings. Where wind would rush through ranks of leafless trees and create an ominous symphony, only the report of snow crushed underhoof sounded through the area.
The working day was done. Hordes moved from their station towards the town, much like they had hours ago, yet in reverse. Shepherded by the armor clad drones, they marched in silence save for the token whisper. Vladimir casted his gaze across the masses from the steps of the Apple Family home with curiosity. He had lived in similar conditions as a colt, watched day and night, forced to work for some unnamed cause. Of course they weren't being forced necessarily. Where he would think to see the harsh tone of a guard silencing whispers or sharp report of a beating, there was no interaction between the ponies and guards.
The guards marched without command and the ponies followed without question. The sight perplexed Vladimir. How could these ponies so willingly accept the leash? Never a voice of defiance, all except for the blue pegasus. Never a word against the Commissariat. Not a word. Where he in such a situation, he would be latching on to his wardens with teeth and hoof. At first he credited this to the ponies before him, weak and spineless he would call them, without the courage to defend what they believed in. Or perhaps they had never believed in the first place? Perhaps so long as they had full bellies and a being to call "leader" they were happy? Perhaps.
Reik on the other hoof had assured him of the latter. It was fear that kept these ponies in check. Not the sight, there had never been any form of retribution against the citizens, but the prospect. The efficiency of the takeover and the nature of their new world had instilled a sense of overwhelming superiority. A sense. Not a reality. In whispers, Reik had explained that the control over the guards was fragile, and that it was in no way a permanent solution. 'Hearts and Minds' he had said. In time they would be won and all barriers would fall. Real progress could be made.
Yet behind the invisible barrier that closed off the territory from the rest of Equestria. Stuck among the dead trees and dark stumps, lost in eternal darkness, progress looked like an idealist dream as opposed to a legitimate reality to Vladimir. It was not that he had lost hope in their cause, in fact he saw great potential in the territory, the talisman, and the ideology. Great potential that only required a wider berth. It was a mistake to launch the operation this early, with so few allies. So much was incomplete or unplanned, their leader continued to seclude himself and the Commissariat was a joke. The mental shift to the council brought a bad taste to Vladimir's tongue.
He knew not why Reik had chosen to establish such a miserable committee. Not only did it serve no real purpose, its decisions always at his whim, but its occupants were split between the indigenous ponies and the communists only creating a series of meaningless argument sessions known as meetings.
The grey stallion groaned to himself. Had Reik listened to him they would have kept moving. They would have destroyed the castle, controlled the guards, and moved on. Cut out the oppositions heart and establish an insurgency. It would have been perfect. But instead they had sat in this village, cut themselves off from the rest of civilization, and assumed control. As if the populace would accept them as saviors upon arrival. Vladimir leaned his head back to glance at the stars as he hoped that the reaming Celestial forces outside the barrier where in chaos and not collecting against them.
FOR WHAT MUST have been the hundredth time, Twilight slipped behind a tree and cast her gaze across the forest. Scanning for any followers. Despite finding no trace to prove she was, the purple pony still had a creeping sense that she was being watched. Without looking, Twilight a hoof forward and was punished with a scraping pain. Looking down, she saw that a stray branch from a shrub had cut a thin crimson line several inches up from the bottom of her hoof. The pain was not severe and faded quickly. The purple pony pushed on.
Had it not been for the moon, Twilight would have been lost, darkness filling her vision and stalling her trek. Soon, the trees began to change. Skeletal leafless ones where replaced by the drooping trees commonly found in a swamp. She knew that Zecora's hut was close. Again she tried illuminating her surroundings with a simple spell, but only a single spark flew from the tip of her horn. Even when she strained herself to the point of exhaustion, her magic failed her. It was like nothing she had experienced, it was as if somepony had pulled the plug, deactivating her abilities.
As she continued into the forest, an odd calm overcame her. She felt at ease in the forest, away from the prying eyes of the commissariat and its routine of labor. The air became cool instead of rigid, the frightening overbearing nature of her past surroundings gave way to a kind reminiscent of a better time.
She cleared a gap over an empty riverbed, and the welcoming sight of Zecora's hut came into view. The small structure glowed against the backdrop, still alive as it was whenever she visited. Her pace slowed towards it and her calm increased. Around the hut, the tree cover was thick enough to block out the moonlight. Though the increased darkness did not unnerve Twilight.
She turned and took a last glance around the trees in case she had been followed before nudging the door open.
MANY CANDLES ONE would have seen lit where gone, only a dim lantern hung from the ceiling provided the room with light. In the center of the hut, a small circle was drawn in chalk with several multi colored gems collected at random points around it. In the center was a rock, an ordinary rock that seemed misplaced around the sparkling jewels. Beside the circle, was the hunched for of Zecora, much of her appearance was shrouded by shadow but Twilight could still make out the markings on her coat and the peculiar cutie mark. The zebra was silent though her lips moved quickly and seemingly without pause. She rocked slowly back and forth while doing so. Twilight recognized magical purpose of the act, the circle radiated magical power, but could not guess the meaning.
"It is good to see you Twilight." The purple pony knew the voice of Celestia even before she began to turn. The alicorn sat in the hut along an empty wall, her smile was unblemished by the circumstances. Twilight smiled broadly, a surge of hope filled her being and she felt a new sense of purpose, her cause was a living, breathing reality. She wanted to reach out and hug her mentor, but only managed a short bow and a quick mess of words that was supposed to be 'It's good to see you!'.
Celestia smiled warmly again and motioned towards Zecora. "I don't think I'll be able to thank her enough when this is over." Twilight looked again at the Zebra but could infer nothing as to what exactly she was looking at. As if sensing her confusion, Celestia began to explain. "His talisman dampens all magic within the area, I can't beat that and half the royal guards, not on my own at least." Twilight looked closer at the circle. The lines pulsed gently, the jewels glowed, and if she focused on the rock in the center, her eyes began to itch.
"She's creating a second talisman?" She found herself mumbling.
"Yes, but for what purpose, I was hoping you could tell me." Twilight faced the alicorn again and gave her a look of confusion. Celestia leaned in closely and spoke, her smile diminishing. "What has become of my ponies?"
Twilight recounted her experiences, the villagers, guards, Commissars, and labor, in detail when requested and summary if not. As she spoke she found that there was still very little that she knew and felt as if her task had not been complete because of it. Upon completing the tale, Celestia lowered her head and grew silent. For at least a minute, no words were exchanged."The talisman must be destroyed, that's all that matters."