[Start of Arc 5]
In the end, it wasn't Lemon Pink lowering the barrier in time, because she didn't. It wasn't the veropede resurging, because it was well and truly dead this time. It wasn't a secret runic contingency built into the array, because there hadn't been time to include one.
No, in the end, it was just the Jaw of Hearts in Prey's chest, that misappropriated torture device, which forced his heart to keep beating.
In the end, it wasn't the end.
Burning. His lungs were burning. A weight, pressing down on his face and over his mouth.
His chest violently contracted, and Prey gasped, or would've gasped if something wasn't blocking his airway. He flailed, trying to break free, limbs full of dreadful pins and needles.
"Prey!"
Lemon Pink pulled free of his face and suddenly Prey could cough.
And cough he did, unable to breathe but trying to drag air down into his burning lungs in gulps just as desperate as his hacking cough was.
Prey tried to sick up his stomach, but he'd already done that earlier, and there was nothing left. He hacked and coughed, lungs burning and his whole body wracked with leaden pins and needles. Lemon was helping him to sit up, he despised her touch fiercely, but that was hardly his focus at the moment.
He could breathe again. He was alive. Alive! His body hurt, especially his extremities, like his hooves and the ends of his ears, which hurt worst of all. It wasn't normal pins and needles, it hurt. Like raw frostbite.
Prey's eyes streamed. He gagged and coughed again, and just tried to focus on getting down as much air as he could to stop his lungs from deciding he was a poor landlord and that they should move out.
"You were dead, Prey." Lemon Pink said from somewhere next to him, he hadn't cleared his eyes enough to pinpoint where exactly yet. Lemon sounded shaken, or maybe unhinged.
"Wha'?" Prey coughed.
"You should've been dead, but your heart kept beating. I didn't need to restart it, I just-I just kept providing air and breathing for you, with CPR I mean, so your heart could pump it around."
It took a moment for Prey's sluggish mind to put together what Lemon's words meant. The pain in his lower legs were growing worse as fully oxygenated blood began circulating through what had been, for a minute, dead flesh. His whole face also felt swollen and tender, like he was sitting too close to a blazing fire.
"Oh. Right." Prey wheezed. He clumsily lifted a foreleg to try and wipe at his steaming eyes. He missed and clocked himself in the cheek instead. Prey realised he had one of Lemon Pink's long mane hairs in his mouth. He began trying to spit it out.
'You don't exactly have time to tie back your mane when trying to perform CPR. But hey, if I ever had to do CPR, I'd have to worry about where my ears are swinging instead.' Prey thought. He didn't have the breath to giggle.
He finally managed to get one shaking foreleg up and wipe his eyes clear, although the action itself just made his eyes start watering again. His whole body felt like it was a bruise.
"Prey?" Lemon repeated.
"Sorry, what?" Prey asked, voice a hoarse croak.
"I need to go make sure the thieves are truly dead. Should I do that, or should I carry you and run, Prey?"
"They-? Leave me. Go make sure." Prey hastily wheezed.
Lemon removed her hoof from Prey's back, and when he didn't immediately fall over, even if he did slump forwards, she seemed to take that as a good sign. She reached into the hidden pocket under her cloak, and pulled out her knife with her teeth.
Trying to ignore the savage pricking of the pins and needles, Prey realised they were right in the middle of the deactivated runic array area, with the last four thieves lying where they'd collapsed when the air ran out.
'Enough ambient magic hasn't seeped back into the area yet.' That explained why Lemon wasn't levitating her knife instead.
Prey painfully looked about in the dark. Around him, there were blackened patches from fire and lightning scarring the rocks. Twenty paces over that way, he could just make out the reflection of moonlight off where the puddle of spent bone rot. And over there was the huge block of ice spikes, slowly melting. Blood smears on stone.
And there lay the curled up body of the veropede. His veropede. His tool, his weapon, his greatest achievement, to date. His failure. Dozens of lives and countless hours of effort. And it had been stolen from him. Prey couldn't see the details in the dark. His jaw clenched as he looked at the unmoving mounds of dully gleaming carapace.
Just to be sure, Prey tried to reach out over the blood link and connect to its mind, 'Come. Food.'
But there was nothing from the veropede.
Prey looked away from the huge corpse, and to Lemon Pink instead as he saw her leaning over one of the bodies on the ground. She had one foreleg pulling the pony's chin up, and was bracing their neck from behind with her own body. She flicked her mane to the side, then with the knife still in her teeth, (since it was a knife designed for use by unicorns and thus didn't have a hoof loop), jammed the blade up to the hilt in their jugular.
There was no gush of blood. It still flowed out, but it didn't spray out. There was no heartbeat to pump the blood. The pony was already dead.
Fortunate, or Lemon would've gotten blood sprayed all across the muzzle. Not that it would've deterred her from doing what was necessary. Prey neither. He'd plunged up to his shoulders in steaming guts and intestines before.
Prey watched, never looking away as Lemon Pink went around to the other three bodies and repeated the procedure. All were already dead. Lemon still ended up with blood sluggishly dripping down the side of her face.
When she came to the thief leader, his armour didn't activate. No invincible golden shield sprang forth to stop Lemon's knife, proving he was well and truly dead before she even struck.
Prey's lips warped up into an unhappy smile. Finally, he was satisfied. Not happy, only hatefully satisfied.
The diamond dogs hadn't deserved their deaths, but the thieves all had, down to the very last one of the accursed, arrogant, deluded, selfish, greedy, harmony blessed unicorns.
Prey winced as his legs really started to sting something fierce. He bit down the whimper. But the pain was a reminder that he was alive. Still alive even after his own trap had been turned against him. When the thieves had somehow captured him, he'd been terrified. He'd been helpless, once again bound and controlled by someone else's magic, all his choices, all his freedom rendered void by the grip of magic. How Prey hated unicorns and their magic. And feared. He'd been so scared.
He'd cried. He'd trembled. He would've begged if he'd had enough breath at the time. He'd been afraid. Despite all his preparations and all his rune work, in the end, the thieves had still gotten around his null-barrier and ensnared him.
Prey refused to think about exactly how they'd captured him, about that moment of being pulled through an in-between world of cloth. It was dangerous to even remember those things, because what if those things were remembering him too and noticed?
Prey didn't even know how to be scared enough of what he'd seen in that moment. The horror was just too disconnected from the real world.
He wasn't even sure how much of that experience had been real. He had reason to doubt his own eidetic memory in this.
Prey jerked up as straight as a ruler. Lemon Pink immediately dropped the cloak edge she'd been using to clean her knife and face.
"What is it, Prey?" The pink fur on the side of her face was ruffled and still smeared with blood.
"The pincushion, from Selenia. Where? Find it now." Prey croaked, casting around on the ground for it.
Where had it gone? He couldn't see the small cloth ball anywhere in the dark. It had to be here somewhere. That artifact had been the thing to drag him through his own null barrier. Prey had to find it.
Lemon closed her eyes in concentration. It obviously took some effort, but with the focus the electrite choker provided, she still managed to cast the spell, and a white globe of magic light flickered into existence above her sharp horn.
The ambient mana must slowly be returning to the area. But not enough of it, and not fast enough, apparently.
The white light sputtered, winked out, came back, and then vanished for good.
"It's no good. There isn't enough magic, Prey." Lemon apologised.
"Forget the light. We have to find that pincushion." Prey coughed, waving his hoof. He had to have it, because he was too scared to leave something like that lying around.
The rest of the thieves' artifacts were secondary. If any of them had even survived. The thieves had all but outright stated he'd never steal their various artifacts because of the self-destructs they'd placed on the items. But if not, then there was a veritable treasure trove lying around here valuable enough to make any mage tower drool. He hadn't seen any evidence of Crimson's jade necklace among them. However, if he couldn't recover Selenia's pincushion-
Prey took a few deep breaths of air. How sweet it was, to be able to breathe air. He was still alive. The leader of the thieves had thought Prey would die with them. And Prey had died, his lungs had stopped, but his cursed heart hadn't been able to. And now he was alive.
Everything comes at a price though. Time, blood, tears, pain, sacrifice, fear, near death, and the lives of others exchanged for his own.
Prey had heard people say victory is sweet. Liars.
Often, the only prize for victory was being able to limp away afterwards.
Lemon Pink was carefully sweeping the ground in the dark, casting about for the pincushion. The ground was uneven and stony, but Lemon's search was methodical. Where had it been last? The pony with the phasing chestplate, Sierra, he'd been the one to use the strange pincushion. But where'd it gone after that? Prey hadn't seen, he'd been a bit preoccupied at the time.
Prey's ears were good, better than his lightly damaged eyesight for sure, especially in the dark of night.
His ear twitched, 'What's that?'
With effort, Prey shifted to look up into the night. High, high up on the mountain side, the huge city of Canterlot glowed, warm and bright against the dark, like a giant golden bauble. Prey's eyes searched the star speckled night sky vain. He could hear, but not see, the approaching flap of large wings. Not feathered, he knew what those sounded like. These sounded more leathery, like skin.
Exactly like a thestral.
"Prey?"
He heard Gloom before he saw him.
The thestral swooped out of the dark, splaying his wings to land about ten paces away from where Prey was seated. Gloom stared at Prey, and past him at the sight of the battlefield.
"Gloom." Prey stared back, somehow not even surprised. He was drained past caring. If something further could go wrong tonight, of course it would go wrong.
"Prey, I have found..." Lemon Pink came to a halt, the small rag bundle of the pincushion wrapped in a crook of her cloak. Her purple eyes blinked slowly at Gloom, then at Prey. There was still dark blood matting the fur on one side of her face.
"...Oh."
The three of them formed a rough triangle, Prey sitting upright on the ground, Lemon and Gloom standing. The chill quiet of the night held its breath and waited.
"What happened here Prey?" Gloom asked, uncertain even as he stared past him at what was clearly laid out. Prey knew the thestral's slit gaze could easily see it all in the dark. The blood, the bodies, and the dead veropede.
"What are you doing here?" Prey asked in return. Gloom was outside of his perception range, he didn't know what the thestral was thinking.
Gloom answered seemingly automatically, still staring, "I was just out for a night flight. I was flying, and then I just felt I should fly lower. And then I came this way. And now I'm here."
'Of course. His cutie mark just had to meddle.' Prey thought. Gloom's wings and ears were holding very still from what he could see of them. No visual cues. This night just kept getting better and better.
Lemon Pink very subtly tilted her head Prey's direction, signalling with her eyes. Prey twitched his hoof in the manner to signal a negative.
"What happened here Prey? Those are dead bodies."
"That wasn't a question."
"No, it wasn't. Those are dead ponies. And, whatever the Tartaras that thing is. It looks... like what Crimson described ate the reaper king in the end." Gloom nodded at what remained of Prey's destroyed tool. He didn't take a hoof off the ground to point with though.
'In case he needs to react fast.'
"Yes. A veropede. Dead now." Prey didn't expand any further, just sitting slumped there.
"Prey, what happened here?" Gloom asked for the third time.
"I think you already know what happened." Prey said, looking at a point just above Gloom's head rather than his face.
"I don't want to jump to any conclusions." Gloom answered. Was that a quaver in his voice?
Prey sighed, far too world weary and tired for a lamb, "Come on Gloom, you know better than that. You can smell the blood. You can see just fine in the dark."
"I...Yes, I can see. But, you...I want to hear it from you. You're Prey. My subordinate. My friend. I know you, and I know what you're capable of. Or I thought I did, with the cellar, and the kindersnatches. But I still know you, you personally Prey. So I want to hear the explanation in your own words first."
Yes. There was a quaver indeed. It was the sound of disappointment. 'No. You don't get to be disappointed in me.'
Prey still couldn't muster up the strength to look Gloom in the eyes, though, not even to defend himself; "This is really all just bad luck. I chose this place purposefully because no one ever comes here. No one else was supposed to come by but them, least of all you or Crimson. But I didn't account for a vague and arbitrary special talent, did I?"
"What happened here, Prey?" The fourth time.
Prey took a deep breath. How nice it was to breathe. "You have to be told? Then be told. Murder is what happened here. There were a whole pack of diamond dogs. Because of me, they're now all dead. Young, old, mothers, fathers, sons and daughters. I killed them all. They did nothing wrong, but I still killed every last one of them. I used bone rot, I used traps, I used a monster. I murdered them all."
Prey couldn't help but see Gloom flinch, "Diamond dogs? What? Prey I, you-"
But he wasn't done, "I took everything from them. Their friends, their family, and finally their lives. I could argue it was Lemon Pink who first-No, it was me. It was me who murdered them for no good reason. And you know what? I did the exact same thing to the captured townsfolk of Alfalfa Dale too."
Gloom took an involuntary step backwards, "Impossible. What are you talking about?"
"That," Prey pointed wearily at the veropede's corpse, "I fed them to that. Hard Baked had them all captured and drugged inside a pit. It was guarded by kindersnatches. I needed flesh to feed the veropede so it could fight the reaper King. So I murdered them too. They were drugged, and going to die anyway, but I was the one who murdered them, not Hard Baked. I weighed all of their lives on a scale and found them not worth anything when compared to my own."
"And... what happened to these ponies?" Gloom asked, voice and posture strained.
Prey hissed, "Them? They were thieves. Zealots, or patriots I suppose. I lured them here, because they dared to fight against an evil like me, and then I trapped them. And killed them. I hate death. I hate pain. Do you want the specific details? I'll give them to you if you really want to know Gloom. But you know what?"
It wasn't a question, because Prey went on before Gloom had any chance to answer, "I don't care. I murdered them, and I don't care. They deserved it. I'm glad they're dead, and I'm not. I'd kill them again in a heartbeat if they were alive again. Heh, a trapped heartbeat, keh keh. Sorry, you wouldn't get-Never mind."
Prey coughed, then grinned sickly at Gloom, a real grin, the type he usually hid, "Look, forget them, they were just greedy arrogant unicorns who thought a few magical artifacts gave them the right to judge others. The diamond dogs and the townspeople, I murdered them. Them, and so many more, I couldn't even begin to tell you."
Prey couldn't see much of Gloom's face in the dark. What he could see was enough to get the picture. A painting made in strokes of revulsion, horror, but also a resigned sort of disappointed sorrow.
"I... can't believe it." Gloom muttered weakly, "I can't, you wouldn't... But I'm seeing it. I can't, I can't say it isn't so. I just don't, how does one even...? No words, Prey, no words. Where did you go so wrong? Where did I fail so badly?"
"You fail? You? This has nothing to do with you Gloom. I'm not some mistake someone else made, I made me! I'm Prey. I killed Gossamer, I took his place."
"You killed your own father too?" Gloom gaped, "What else have you-? No. No, don't tell me, I don't want... Just don't."
"Huh? No, Gossamer wasn't-No, you're misunderstanding, there wasn't... Actually, it doesn't really matter. What's one more sin on the pile? Yarn was a good father. A good father, but he made a poor husband. The worst. How dare he do that to Gossamer's mother-I should've, why I should've...!"
Prey gave up gesticulating and let his hooves go limp. He slumped. He sniffed deeply and let his head loll backwards, tiredly regarding Gloom from under half lidded eyes. "You needed to be told? Well, there you go. Now you’re told. That's what happened here. Premeditated murder, and lots of it."
Gloom himself looked even more tired. His shoulders drooped, his ears drooped, his head, wings, and tail all drooped too. He muttered something to himself, which Prey just caught with his sharp ears, "The flight is long, but the moon is bright. Luna guide my path tonight."
Gloom straightened up, "Come on Prey. We'll, we'll go straight to Princess Luna. You can make your confession to her."
Prey stiffened, "Are you insane? I'm not confessing anything to Luna."
Gloom sighed, "You'll have to, Prey. This isn't, you don't think I can ignore this, do you? I'll have to tell Her Majesty. You've told me, you can tell her too. It... won't be easy, but there's no hiding this Prey. No more lies. Just come clean. It won't make anything better, but... It's the right thing to do. Moon knows, there's nothing else right."
'He think's I'd ever throw myself on an alicorn's mercy?!'
"Luna has no right to judge me. She has no right to judge anyone considering what she is." Prey responded coolly.
"She's not Nightmare Moon Prey, she never was. You already know this." There was no anger in Gloom's voice, just exhaustion, and the longer this conversation went on, the more exhausted he was likely to become.
"I have my own opinion on that matter, but that's not what I meant. She's an alicorn. She's immortal. She has no idea what it's like to be a lesser being, to not be all powerful. She's had centuries to learn, what right does she have to judge anyone who's only had years? None."
"Her Majesty is still a pony Prey, exactly the same as me or y... She's still a person. She understands far more than you know. She is a kind ruler, not some tyrant." Gloom asserted.
Prey gave up. What was the point? Gloom would never accept his words. Thestrals grew up their entire lives hearing stories of Luna, their Goddess of the Night, and how it was their duty to serve her so she never slipped up and made a mistake again. If they could see the whole Nightmare Moon incident as nothing more than a regrettable mistake, a mistake which could've killed the whole world, mind you but was still forgivable, how could Gloom ever agree with Prey?
'And, really, is that what I'm concerned about right now?' Prey thought. He was so utterly, utterly drained. He wanted to go back to the safety of his flat and sleep. He didn't want to think about this, about what he'd done, or about the look on Gloom's face.
'Why do I care so much? Gloom isn't Crimson. I don't owe Gloom. If anything, Gloom owes me. So why should I feel so angry at letting his expectations down? It's all been a lie and an act from the beginning anyway. Just another one of my masks.'
"Are you... going to come Prey? And you?" Gloom asked, his eyes flicking over towards Lemon Pink. He hadn't asked who she was, or why Prey was confessing all of this in the presence of a total stranger. Likely, he didn't want to know the details.
"Are you going to try and force me?" Prey asked back, as Lemon remained silent.
"You can't run Prey. Princess Luna will simply track you down if you do. Oh Luna, this is going to destroy Scenic and Crimson. How am I going to tell them?" Gloom mumbled wretchedly.
Prey blinked. 'Hasn't he even considered that I might kill him? He can't tell anyone if he's dead. Isn't he afraid? Does he think I can only fight through traps? Or just that I won't because I know him? I... don't actually know. Is that the truth?'
Prey wasn't sure, because he wasn't considering killing Gloom. He never had been. Prey folded his hooves, "No, I'm not coming."
This was all so surreal, so disconnected from any real consequences. It was also all pointless. Prey had known it was from the start. Gloom wouldn't choose him over doing what was right. Gloom had to believe there was justice, because if there wasn't any justice, then what was Gloom's purpose? He had to believe in justice, he had to believe in Luna, because he'd seen the unfairness of the world. The kindersnathes, the scarecrow, and the rats in the cellar.
Gloom was a Night Guard, a thestral. It was his duty, even if it hurt.
'Why did I even try to explain anything? I knew he wouldn't accept. I learnt that with that spineless therapist already.'
"Prey, there's no running from this. Come with me, I'll go with you. I know you hate being touched, so don't make me have to carry you. Please."
Prey looked away from Gloom, "Just get on with it please." He sighed.
Gloom jerked like he'd been shocked, then folded up silently on the ground, wings sprawling open in unconsciousness.
Lemon Pink stood there, her hoof still pressed to Gloom's shoulder, the illusionary veil now gone. Where she'd been previously standing, her illusionary double rippled and vanished.
It hadn't mattered what Prey had said, because Gloom had never been going to remember any of it. Over the course of the conversation, enough ambient magic had returned to the area for Lemon Pink to cast both an illusion of herself standing in place, and a veil as she crept forwards. Lemon stopped holding her breath and began panting, her mane sticking to her forehead.
Enough magic to cast didn't mean enough magic to cast easily. Lemon's own reserves were small enough to begin with, and she'd been casting plenty before when deceiving the now dead thieves. But still, she'd pulled it off undetected. Gloom had been completely focused on Prey anyways, which'd helped.
'Why'd you have to listen to your cutie mark tonight of all nights, Gloom?' Prey silently asked himself.
A worthless question. Why did the wind blow? Why was his wool white? Where did magic come from?
"Selenia's Pincushion?" Prey asked Lemon Pink.
"I have it here," Lemon indicated a pocket under her cloak, "I will begin removing Gloom's memories."
"No, don't."
Lemon started, "Surely you cannot mean to-"
"I'll do it myself. I may as well. We need to clean up here and leave before morning. I'd meant for the veropede to eat the bodies after the fight, but now..." Prey sadly looked at the dead creature. "...Now we'll have to find a way to get rid of its body too."
"I see. Yes, Prey."
"Go check the bodies. See if you can recover any of their artifacts. Watch out for booby traps. I'll deal with Gloom." Painfully, Prey got to his hooves. He still felt like he was bruised all over, but the pins and needles in his blood were just a dull buzz by now.
"Yes, Prey." Lemon left Gloom and stared towards the nearest body, the corpse formerly known as Azurite. A pony who was now dead.
Prey sat down in front of Gloom's prone head. This close, Prey could see the scars under Gloom's closed eyes, even in the dark. There sat Gloom's clan earring, set in a familiar tufted ear. The thestral's brows were creased, even in unconsciousness.
'Don't worry. This won't even be a bad dream by the time I'm done. Just the sire of all headaches.' Prey thought. Carefully making sure his ribbon wasn't anywhere near trailing against Gloom as he leaned over, Prey focused his tired mind into sharpness and touched Gloom's forehead.
'I'm sorry about all this.'
------
Prey did not sleep that night, even though he and Lemon Pink limped back out of the tunnel and into Canterlot with two hours of restful darkness to spare.
Prey lay in his too large bed, staring up sightlessly at the ceiling. His ears were sprawled out on either side of the pillow. His ribbon was still on, it was always on, now. Prey felt too hot, but he still pulled the blankets close. And he stared at nothing.
He just couldn't close his eyes. He hurt, he was tired, his eyes itched, and his hooves ached, but he was unable to sleep. His mind wouldn't let him. It kept going over and over everything which'd gone wrong, all the mistakes he'd made:
He'd almost died. He'd stopped breathing. His last veropede was dead. The thieves and the diamond dogs were dead. Gloom had almost discovered him. He'd been captured. He'd choked and gasped for air. Disgusting hooves had been laid upon him, and even more disgusting magic had been used on him.
His heart was heavy. It shouldn't be, because he'd won. He'd been the only one to survive, and at the end of the day, that's all that mattered.
But his heart was still heavy with bitterness.
He'd dealt with Gloom, erasing the thestral's memories of what he'd seen tonight before sending him off. Prey had momentarily considered delving deeper into Gloom's mind, to see what secrets the Sargent might be keeping back, but he hadn't. He should've looked, but he hadn't.
Prey had been exceptionally careful with Gloom's mind, being as gentle as he could, but Gloom was still going to feel sick with a headache tomorrow morning. Or rather, this morning.
Also unfortunately, the thieves had been telling the truth about their artifacts. All the artifacts had all been enchanted in one way or another, (depending on the individual nature and properties of the artifact), to break or self destruct.
Those kinds of enchantments weren't the sort that could've been mapped out or implemented on the fly. The thieves must've had those self destruct contingencies planned for a long time. Years.
Prey couldn't even ask one of the thieves about it anymore. They were all dead. The location of any other stashes of other artifacts, money, secrets, or most valuable, knowledge, had died along with them.
Prey would also never find out their deeper motivation for what they did, or where their Order of the Brotherhoof of Sol had sprung up from, or how long it'd existed, or if there were other members. All he had were a few physical descriptions, matching cutie marks, and a few of the names he'd overheard, such as Quarter Staff, Azurite, and Sierra, but that was it. He'd have to see what he could turn up. Assuming those were even their real names.
He'd likely never know. Death came, it took, and you were left forever without answers.
The thieves' bodies, along with the remains of his loyal veropede, were safely buried, locked away beneath the very ground where the battle had taken place. Prey'd had to cannibalise his nullification barrier array in a hugely inefficient and costly way to manage that. Lemon had nowhere near the kind of magic needed to pull it off, and he hadn't had the required hours to build an excavation array from scratch. Morning had been coming, and he'd had to rush.
'It's not like I was ever going to get a chance to use the null barrier again anyway, down there in the middle of nowhere.'
It was still a loss. Another loss, to be precise. In fact, the only thing he'd gotten out of this whole catastrophe was the pincushion. And even that was just so no one else could have it. All three pins were pushed in and the charges used up, and Prey didn't have the first clue about how to recharge it. He doubted it was as simple as just pulling the pins back out and supplying it with enough mana.
'Lemon saved my life again tonight. I should say thank you. And find out what she's hiding.' He had time to focus on that now. But he didn't want to find out. It could wait, just a little while longer. Until he finally managed to drift off to sleep, at the least.
The thieves' were gone. Finally gone. He was alive, and Crimson was safe. Not that he would get to tell Crimson the danger had passed. He couldn't know. No one could know. This was a victory. Every loss, even his veropede, had been an acceptable loss, because he was still alive. But victory wasn't sweet.
Prey wasn't satisfied with this ending. He couldn't even know for sure if it was an ending.
'Tough. Life isn't fair. The world doesn't care. What's the life of one twisted little runt lamb in the scheme of the universe? Nothing.'
Prey wasn't satisfied, but it was an ending, although not the end, at least, not for him. For others, not just those Prey and Lemon Pink had killed tonight, it had been the end, but for thousands more, it was just one night among many, the setting of the moon, and the rising of the sun. Another start in the new story of a new day.
---
'I'm safe and still alive. Crimson is alive. The threat of the thieves is gone. There's nothing else pressing hanging over my head. So what should I do now? What precisely shall I do when I get up this morning? Or afternoon even?'
---
Wake up.
Stare at the empty ceiling.
Bright sunlight shone through the glass.
Prey kicked off his blanket and lay there for a while.
He should get up and get to work. Life hadn't stopped.
Runes weren't going to lay themselves. There was always work.
Down on the streets outside, Canterlot was already bustling. Busy ponies starting their day.
'I really, really, really, really hate Canterlot.' There was nothing for it. With a pained groan, Prey got up.
---
Prey went through the day in a sort of surreal haze. It was understandable. Just last night, he'd fought the thieves and their self proclaimed 'Brotherhoof' to the death in a final culmination of all his runic preparations and magic. But now it was over, just like that.
And, if he were lucky, no one else aside from Lemon would ever know what'd happened.
Gloom had seen, but he'd been dealt with.
His veropede had been lost, but Prey was still alive.
The thieves were gone, and he was safe.
The whole fight had happened right under Canterlot's nose, and no one had noticed.
He, Prey, had won. He was still alive.
Just like that. Finished and over. Oh there was still cleaning up and insurances to put into place, but the pressure, the constant looming threat in the back of Prey's head was over. 'Surreal' really was the only word to describe the feeling.
The unknown threat of the mimics, Strange Happenstance, and of course, Luna were still there. But Prey would deal with those tomorrow. Or later. Just not right now. Right now was a moment of blessed respite to recover. Surely it was owed to him just to take it easy for one day?
'I want some candy. I want some candy, and I want to speak to Crimson.'
Well, one of those was easy.
------
Prey chewed the liquorice, and decided he didn't like it. It wasn't real candy. He stuck his hoof into the paper bag and pulled out something brilliant orange, round, sticky, and crystalized in sugar. Much better. Now this was a real candy.
Prey decided he'd probably never get used to the concept of food you got to eat for pleasure. He'd been hungry too many times in his life to ever go for taste over availability, but sweets, cakes, pastries, chocolates, eclairs, tarts, jams, pies, candies, and the myriad multitude of other tasty indulgences Canterlot took for granted seemed to be everywhere. Every street had a bakery, an ice-cream parlour, milkshake stands, or a candy floss stall. Well, those streets which weren't in Upper Canterlot anyways.
Apparently, being upper class meant you weren't allowed to be seen indulging in public. You had to keep that for private.
Prey slowly crunched up the candy, savouring the bright sweetness of sugar. He hadn't had to venture far from the apartment block to find an appropriate candy store. He'd patiently ignored the vendor's surprise and his getting cooed over and called a filly, gotten himself a big bag of candy, and was now making his meandering way back to the flat.
His slow pace was mostly to do with still aching from basically suffocating last night. Imagine that. Near death experiences have a way of draining the whole body, not just affecting the muscles or organs you expected them to. He was honestly surprised with how everything else had gone wrong that he hadn't suffered brain damage.
But despite the approach of fall, the sun was warm on Prey's wool as he stuck to the edge of the paved sidewalks. One could hardly expect the ponies of Canterlot to have to put up with such things as 'normal weather', or 'seasonal changes' now, could you? Rot their overprivileged little hearts.
Prey bit down on the sweet, 'Arrogant and blinded by assumed privileges, down to the very last one of them.'
Prey climbed the stairs back up to his flat one at a time. It was time he checked in with Crimson. The pegasus was still recovering from his way over the top, off the record, training session.
'Hopefully, neither Scenic or Gloom, or that annoyance called Saffron, will think to do so before he's recovered enough to act normal.' Prey thought.
He should check on Lemon Pink too. She was also a person, even if she was his tool. She needed to sleep, eat, rest, and recover, the same as anyone else. But Prey knew Lemon's flat to be just as bare of comforts as his own.
Back before any of this mess had kicked off, so very long ago, Lemon had been going to procure herself a flat in this very apartment block, as per Prey's instructions.
What with one thing and another, it hadn't happened, but it wouldn't be hard to achieve.
All Lemon Pink had to do was get Cosy Holding, the landlord, alone and 'convince' him to provide her a flat, at a hefty discount too. There was nothing like a little abuse of mind magic for making someone see things your way.
'A perverse violation of a person's very being.'
That wouldn't stop Lemon from utilising it anyways to force Cosy Holding to kick out some other tenant if needed and provide her with their flat instead. Prey had been too soft in the past, and look where that had gotten him.
Now he could finally get back on track, along with starting up his other research plans again.
The candy soured on Prey's tongue as he climbed the apartment block's stairs. The thieves had collapsed his secret crystal cave lair. He hadn't even had a chance to go down there to see the remains for himself. There probably wasn't any point. He and Lemon Pink would have to find somewhere new and start their exhausting rune work all over again. Or rather he would.
Hundreds of hours of work, gone. The loss stung bitterly. Not as much as the loss of his two veropedes, but it still stung.
Prey shut the front door and went down the corridor to knock on Crimson's own closed door.
"Crimson? It's me." Prey called out around his candy.
Prey waited. It took an entire two minutes before Crimson cautiously opened the door. When he saw it was just Prey alone, he opened it fully.
"Come in if you want." Crimson said without preamble, leaving the door open.
"I came by to check up on how you're mending. And change your bandages, if needed." Prey said, stepping inside.
"Ah. Thank you. Sorry about this, again."
Crimson was still a mess. The bruising along his jaw had turned a nasty yellow, he was limping heavily, one eye was swollen mostly shut, his wings were held awkwardly and loose at his sides, and that was to say nothing of all the bandages.
"Anytime. Although having said that, I would much prefer it if 'anytime' was never again. Regardless, I'd like to check on your stitches first." Prey said briskly, getting straight down to business.
"Right here?"
"Yes. Just lie down on your front, anywhere is fine. Actually, lying on a floor cushion would be better than-ah, never mind. You don't have any of those. Just on the floorboards then."
Stiffly, and slowly, Crimson lowered himself down, folding his legs painfully under himself. Prey moved around to his side, going to check the most serious hook puncture wound first. However he hesitated before moving in close enough to touch. He couldn't help it. He hated physical contact.
"Right, so, just stay still again. Don't move."
"I won't. I know." Crimson assured him.
"Okay. Right. Don't move."
Prey carefully peeled back the bandage and padding to get a look at the stitching. He'd of course cleaned the surrounding fur of blood beforehoof, but the padding under the bandage was still stained. None of it was fresh though, which was good.
The stitches were still all in, which was also really good, as having to re-stitch a wound was no fun for anyone. There was some swelling, but that could mean nothing. He touched his fetlock to Crimson's flesh lightly, feeling for any excess heat. It felt relatively okay.
"Hmm. You've drunk plenty and haven't experienced any fever like symptoms, right?" Prey checked.
"Yes, and no. In that order." Crimson answered, not turning his head and staying still.
"And painwise?"
"It hurts a lot." Crimson said bluntly and honestly.
"I'll get you some more leaves for the pain in a second. I should've left some more with you before, sorry." Prey apologised.
"Thank you."
"Okay, this one seems relatively fine for now. Let's have a look at the rest of them." Prey decided, removing his hoof and turning to the rest of Crimson's bandages.
"Have you thought of what you're going to tell anyone if they ask what happened?" Prey asked as he worked.
"No. I hope to heal before anyone notices."
"No chance of that, I'm afraid. Those stitches are going to be in for at least a week, minimum. Probably longer. Someone will certainly come by before then."
"Alright. I hope to heal sufficiently that I won't look too bad by then." Crimson amended uncomfortably.
"And the excuse?" Prey prompted.
"The truth. A training accident caused by my own foolishness."
Not what Prey would've gone with, but it was Crimson's choice. He could suggest alternative excuses, but Crimson wouldn't approve of a lie, any lie, so Prey kept his suggestions to himself.
After a minute, Crimson spoke again, "I can't remember if I told you this already Prey, I was a little out of it at the time, but we get to resume our duty soon."
Prey nearly fumbled, "Our duty? Do you mean start working as Night Guards again?"
"Yes, that's what I mean."
Prey's mind swiftly drew the connections, "So then the Royal Inspectors are finally giving up, or just getting kicked out. Just who, exactly, did you train with in the Night Guard command structure to find out about this? Don't tell me it was Nighthawk himself."
Crimson's ears twitched back, "Yes."
Prey looked up at the ceiling, vainly calling for strength. "Of course it was the Captain himself. And you just walked up and, what, asked him and the Lieutenants for a no holds barred fight?"
"Yes?"
"And he went for that? Why would he even entertain the idea? He's the one who placed us on indefinite leave in the first place. And doesn't he have his position as the Captain to uphold?" Prey asked.
"We did not fight in our capacity as Night Guards, we were all off duty. We would not disgrace Princess Luna's Guard like that."
Prey had been concerned about Crimson getting into trouble for his secret training brawl with the Night Guard, but it seems this went all the way to the top and his fears had been for naught. It made a sort of sense in a thestral way. Of course Nighthawk and the other officers would be excellent warriors, although their positions weren't based on martial prowess, but leadership skills.
Even so, it made complete sense when Prey thought about it. Not common sense, just sense. Crimson wouldn't risk getting lesser Night Guards into trouble, off duty or not, so of course he'd challenge Nighthawk instead.
Prey would bet Nighthawk had seen it as his grave duty to fulfil Crimson's request too, as a sort of informal apology after the ISND's suspension. Only thestrals would see being granted a holiday as a punishment.
Prey sighed, "Well I hope you found it worth it."
"Nighthawk is quite skilled with griffin claws. It was good experience. Getting used to fighting with your gift, I mean." Crimson shifted his right wing slightly, giving away where the electrite feather Prey had made was hidden.
'So Nighthawk was the one who ripped a hole in your side. I bet you thanked him for it too, you battle maniac.' Prey thought wearily.
So they would be forced to return to serving Luna soon. How truly wonderful.
"Lilly isn't up to serving. Scenic may yet quit, too." Prey said out loud.
"We will see." Crimson said simply, not an ounce of condemnation for the two ponies in his voice. They'd all suffered, and Scenic and Lilly weren't like the rest of them. It wasn't their fault they hadn't ever been forced to learn resilience before.
'They're not prisoners. They both have a choice.' Prey looked down at the golden tracer bands. He didn't even notice their weight anymore. It'd been the same with the shackles in Dreverton. Gradually, you got so used to imprisonment that you could hardly even remember it ever being any different.
Prey knew Crimson didn't see it that way, though. This was Crimson's life, his duty, so Prey kept his discontentment to himself.
Anyway, there was nothing Crimson could do about their circumstances.
'And I'm still alive.' Last night he almost hadn't been. But he'd survived, and as long as he was alive, he'd have another chance to find a way to escape. One day.
Prey stepped back from examining the stitching in the long slash down Crimson's shoulder, allowing Crimson to untense and move again now that he wouldn't accidently bump Prey. "Good news. All your wounds are about where I expect them to be. Bad news, they're about where I expect them to be."
"There's no shortcut to proper healing." Crimson said fatalistically.
"Unless you have a powerful magical artifact." Prey shrugged.
Crimson's right wing instinctively jerked, "Wait, do you mean...?"
Prey shook his head, "Sorry no, it's nothing as powerful as that. Like I said before, almost all its benefits are passive, small but constant."
Crimson almost certainly still questioned how and where Prey had gotten the feather, but he kept to Prey's wishes and hadn't asked even once.
"Too bad it doesn't heal. No, that's not what I meant. I mean, I'm very grateful Prey for your gift-"
"I know what you meant. Here, stay still, I'll go get you some more leaves for the pain. Back in a minute. Oh, and feel free to have any of my candy if you want. The orange ones with the sugar are really nice."
---
Back in his own flat, Prey hurried to the windowsill and began picking the correct ratio of leaves from his pot plants. Wait, 'his flat'? Prey almost paused, but Crimson was waiting. It wasn't really worth ruminating over, but since when had he started thinking of this as his flat, rather than just 'the flat', or 'the flat I'm renting'?
It wasn't like it was that important, but still.
The flat wasn't a home, and never would be, but it was definitely a nice place of safety with all the defensive runic arrays now placed here.
A leaf slipped from between Prey's hoof cleft. He scowled and picked it back up. He dropped it again. And then a third time.
Prey looked at his hoof, already knowing-Yes, it was trembling. His leg was starting to shake too. Prey breathed out in angry frustration, and it caught in his throat as a choke.
'Damn it, why? I'm still alive, that's all that matters. Get it together crybaby.'
What kind of damned delayed reaction was this? Prey ground his teeth. His hoof was really shaking now. Actually, he was shivering, that's what was causing it.
'I'm alive. I'm still alive. Stoppit, you hear me? I'm alive. Still alive.'
The sun shining in from the window was no longer warm. 'Oh get it together already! I survived. That's all that matters.'
But it didn't stop. Why did he have to go through this or something infuriatingly similar every single time? It wasn't fair, he should finally be used to it. It was pathetic. He was pathetic. How many times has this happened now? How many more times would it happen again? Prey silently snarled, locking his legs and pressing down until the shivering stopped.
Prey carefully forced his hoof to pick up the leaf. When it trembled, he made himself drop the leaf and start again. And again. And again, until...
'Finally.'
Prey gathered up all the required leaves and went back to Crimson's flat. Life went on, and he had things he needed to prepare for. Crimson's news about their imminent return to the active ranks of the Night Guard had thrown some perspective on things.
The surreal could move over. Real life and survival were taking its place.
"Here you go Crimson, sorry about the wait. Eat one of these for each of those leaves, same as last time. Did you have some candy?"
"Thank you. And yes I did, thank you again."
"The orange sugar ones are nice aren't they?"
"Actually no, I didn't like them."
"What?"
"I like the black chewy ones though."
"Liquorice?"
"Oh, is that its name?"
"... No offence Crimson, since you're my only friend in the whole world, and I'm hardly one to talk, but you're weird."
---
Candy, death, liquorice. Who would've thought? War makes for strange survival stories.
---
The Royal Inspectors, contracted by the Royal Guard to carry out a licenced review of the Night Guard. What had been scheduled to take two weeks, (nearly three times as long as the ISND's own inspections had taken), had instead dragged out into nearly a month.
The inspectors had left no leaf unturned, no stone unchecked. Everything had been thoroughly, vigorously, and pedantically checked. Files, records, budgets, minutes of meetings, procedures, it'd all been reviewed to death and back. Prey'd heard they’d even gone so far as to count the office supplies down to the last rubber band, paperclip and staple. Twice.
Officially, the Royal Inspectors were being thorough. Really, they were just dragging their hooves. Someone in the Royal Guard had wanted them to very specifically investigate the ISND.
The same ISND Nighthawk had been keeping hidden on indefinite sick leave.
The Royal Guard and the Night Guard had never been friends. At the beginning, when the Night Guard were first reorganized by Luna with the return of the thestral clans, they'd been rivals. Now though, they were unofficial enemies.
Captain Shining Armour had made efforts to try and overcome this growing divide. Token efforts only, he was not so silently accused of. Nighthawk refused to do any more or any less than he had always been doing.
The Guard was supposed to be completely free of any outside influences, indifferent to position and power. And in theory, it was. In practice, perhaps only the Night Guard could make such a claim, and only because Luna had already claimed all of their loyalty. The Royal Guard was much larger, had existed for far longer, and couldn't say the same.
Nobles and lords behind the scenes had been pushing the Royal Inspectors onto the Night Guard. It was never anything overt, but their guiding hoof had been there if one but looked and knew what you were looking at.
Shining Armour had declared his strong disapproval of this. The Guard was supposed to be impartial and justice was supposed to be blind. However most of the Royal Guard officers weren't even aware they were being gently goaded, influenced by certain policies and rules being implemented in very certain ways.
Regardless of all this, in the end, the Royal Inspectors had no more reasons, or excuses, to carry on any longer.
All they'd turned up on the Night Guard were some minor miss-filing clerical errors, and unimportant slips in procedure. Oh, they'd tried to hammer the Night Guard for everything they were worth, but they had nothing and they knew it. What's more, Nighthawk and Shining Armour knew it too. Celestia and Luna at the top probably just didn't deign to care, but down at the mortal level, everyone who was someone knew it.
And, really, the Night Guard had only existed for a little under five months. Realistically, what skeletons were they ever going to uncover?
Thus, as the week finally drew towards its close, the inspectors packed up their briefcases, put away their ledgers, straightened their tweed bow ties, and prepared to depart with their trimmed tails tucked between their legs.
The noble ponies moving behind the curtains and trying to gain something out of all of this would be left disappointed. Unless this outcome was what they'd been angling for all along. Maybe. Who knows all the games of court, or which side was playing with pawns and which with dice?
It was a fact most overlooked, but there'd been no comment from either Princess Luna or Celestia throughout the proceedings, neither praise nor condemnation, not even once.
---
Lemon Pink hooked the new crystal lamp onto the improvised nail hook in the Sewer's Heart. Up to her knees, the cold and slimy wickerwatch bobbed in the chilled water. Two days had passed since the confrontation with the thieves, or the Brotherhoof of Sol as they'd so arrogantly named themselves.
Now their self righteous group were gone forever, reclaimed by the mud, but the weapons and tactics which'd been employed against the artifact wielding ponies still remained.
Namely, the wickerwatch, and the hex it carried through its rubbery tendrils wherever it reached in the sewers. And wickerwatch was still growing. For now, it was all that was left. It would have to do as a foundation on which to rebuild.
Willingly or unwillingly, the sewers would be housing its new silent watcher for a long while to come. Possibly as long as Canterlot existed, if no one noticed and managed to eradicate the artificial plant.
They would have to be a brave person to do so, though. The invisible malice of the hex was only growing stronger day by day. A sewer worker who just popped down for a maintenance check up would probably suffer nothing more than mild paranoia and a restless night's sleep afterwards.
But to anyone who ventured deeper into the artificial tunnels? The darkness would relentlessly gnaw away their resolve and rationality. Insanity might eventually follow after long enough exposure, dependant upon the willpower of the victim. Not madness, that was something else entirely, but a period of temporary, or even permanent insanity, was entirely possible.
Lemon herself and Prey were only immune because they knew what the effect was, and were mentally strong enough to ignore it. Weak of flesh and magic, but they were both strong of mind.
Maybe 'strong' was the wrong word to use. Perhaps 'cruel' of mind was more accurate. It's better to already be broken than to break.
So the sewer now had its wicked wicker watcher waiting in the water. However, with the veropede's death, there was no guardian left to match it. Unfortunately there was as yet no helping that.
Lemon Pink had just come from dismantling the last of the traps they'd set for the thieves, since they were no longer needed.
Around the pink mare, water splashed in continuous trickles out of the tunnels leading into the basin of the Sewer's Heart. The splashing made for a ceaseless watery drone in the background. It echoed dimly in the unpleasantly damp air, endlessly bouncing off down the dark pipes.
Lemon Pink closed her eyes, focusing on the runic array set here to connect with the wickerswatches' network.
"Hello Lemon."
Lemon Pink instinctively jerked around to bring her horn to bear, cold water splashing, before she recognised the voice and stopped.
"Hello, Prey."
Prey was sitting in one of the higher adjoining tunnel mouths. The pipe was dark, and only Prey or a small foal could've sat inside. Cold water ran around Prey's hooves where he sat unmoving, splashing down to add its voice to the never ending background echoes in the sewers Heart. He'd been sitting in the pitch dark, waiting.
Lemon had not sensed him, which was wrong. She should be able to tell whenever she was close to another sentient mind, especially Prey's.
"I apologize for being late, Prey. Have you been waiting long?" Lemon enquired.
"You said you would be working here in the Sewer's Heart two hours ago. I arrived here one hour ago." Prey said.
"I apologise again. I was delayed."
"That's obvious. Because why else wouldn't you have been here on time?" Prey looked down at her.
"By the way," He added, "I wanted to say thank you for saving my life, again."
"It is my purpose, Prey."
"I know. I made you. You were me, at one point. But thank you again anyway."
Lemon tilted her head to the side, just a bit too far to be normal to an outside observer, "Oh. Well. Then you are welcome, Prey."
There was a pregnant pause in the midst of the Sewer's Heart. Prey brushed one ear back with a wet hoof, sky blue eyes assessing Lemon Pink, "What was it that delayed you?"
There, the tiniest hesitation, a flash in the back of Lemon's eyes.
"I was resting, Prey."
Prey had instructed Lemon to take all the time she needed to recover. You worked best when you were also at your best, after all. It was all too easy to make mistakes when you were tired. Prey didn't believe it.
"Resting. Understandable. Resting is a broad term though..." He stared into Lemon's face, feeling her mind tighten up. He made his decision.
"...I was prepared to put this off, and I have been doing so for quite a while now. You've saved my life, you've worked hard, and I was trying to give you space to develop a better mind, one which isn't stunted by how I made you. All that meant I was prepared to hold off. Not anymore. I'm getting the full, complete, unfiltered story today and I will be its judge."
Prey did not make any threats. There was no need. Lemon Pink was his tool. He'd created her. Her whole purpose in existing was to serve him. She knew it. He knew it. There was no getting around that. And if she tried...
"What have you been hiding from me, Lemon Pink?"
---I---
[[[Random Bonus Picture, because Christmas! - Candy]]]