//------------------------------// // 13 - Sunlight // Story: The Hollow Pony // by Type_Writer //------------------------------// During the time we’d spent here in Baton Verte, we’d always kept coming back to the hill behind Meadowlark’s cottage. It was nearby, it was relatively private, and above all, it was comforting. At the top of this hill, as one looked out over the bayou treetops towards the eastern horizon, and the sparkling ocean that was just barely visible...one could almost forget about the curse, and about everything we’d had to do to get here. I relished in that feeling, as I sat down atop the cliff. I had only a short while before the caravan set off; I had just come from helping Magnus load up a few wagons, and now only Zecora and Meadowbrook’s wagon remained. That one, they wanted to load themselves. They had sent Dinky, Snails, and myself away while they did so, to allow us to relax before we began our journey back to Ponyville, and Canterlot beyond. It was an odd idea. I had vague memories of Canterlot, and remembered it was the capital of our once-great nation. But I had only brief glimpses of being there; maybe I had been, once or twice, a very long time ago.  But those memories weren’t much more than faint glimmers. What would the country look like now, from atop those marble towers? Would I see only fog and mountain peaks? Or would I see the nation laid bare before me, like Magnus’ map? As my mind wandered, I focused more on my breathing. Ever since Dinky’s impromptu lesson, I’d been practicing as often as I could, especially whenever I was allowed a moment of rest. I still couldn’t manage to make the motion automatic, but it was becoming gradually easier to draw breath over time. My lungs felt healthier, aside from the occasional coughing fit. Eventually, my focus shifted on the sun, while I worked to inhale and exhale. How hot must the great red flame be burning, I wondered, for me to feel its warmth from such a great distance? Even from so far away, it dwarfed my own soul, and I think that may be why it enthralled me so. Was the sun Princess Celestia’s own Pyromancy flame? Some deep, hungry part of my being envied that fire, and envied the goddess who wielded it. My wingtips twitched in the sunlight. They were neglected, and had atrophied, from time and decay. I envied Commander Magnus, and how easily he took to the sky. He could ascend into the heavens and view Equestria from above whenever he chose. I should have practiced with them, like he said, but how could I flex limbs I could barely feel? I closed my eyes, and as I breathed, I focused on the muscles of my back. When I had first awoken in the bookstore, I had needed to reach out with my senses, and I had plucked at strings connecting my puppet-body together without the knowledge of where they connected. I learned by pulling at the threads connecting my being together, and I had become aware of my neck, my legs, my tail. But in the time between, I had learned of my fire. I knew the meager breadth of my soul; and the power that fire held to myself and to others. Like I had with Snails, I embraced my own fire, and clutched it tightly. When it threatened to escape my grasp, when it sought escape, I pushed it out through my limbs. I spread my own fire out through my body, and I felt the warmth spread through my limbs. My legs, my hooves, my belly, my tail, and finally, my wings. Something shifted, like a string had been cut, or a muscle that had been held taut had finally been released. The bones of my shoulders spasmed, and I let out a gasp as the weight of mouldering fur and feathers and hollow bones sloughed off my back. My wings extended as they flopped limply to my sides, and my ragged wingtips touched the dead grass around my hooves. I kept my eyes closed, however. This was progress, but I could feel how delicate it was. This process was not an easy one, and I felt how I needed to understand the connection between myself and my wings before the sensation was lost. I pulled at the muscles of my shoulders, and the wings beyond, and I felt my wingtips. As I breathed, I drew them taut, and pulled at those taut muscles. My wings trembled and shook at my sides, unmoving, but slowly, inexorably, they began to rise. It was an impossible effort. It was as though I were trying to lift a mountain onto my back. My legs shook, and my breath caught in my chest as I wheezed. Every part of my body strained, just to raise my wings. It felt like it took an eternity. But my wings rose. I didn’t have the strength to keep them spread, and I managed to close them, just slightly. Instead of lifting them when they were fully extended, I was only lifting them at half-breadth, like one would do if they were trying to shield somepony from the sun or rain. It took less effort, and with my wings in such a position, I found I had the strength to bring them level with my back...and higher. My wings continued to rise upwards, as the joints in my shoulders swiveled to keep them steady. They trembled wildly as I pushed the muscles as far as I was able, to try and push the limits of my bones and the fire within as far as they could go. I had to see. I had to know how much strength I truly had. But I couldn’t push them all the way up; my muscles began to fail me, and my whole body trembled as my breath caught in my throat once more. I was losing control. Soon, I would lose feeling in my wings once more. My eyes snapped open, and I saw Celestia’s sun, gloriously incandescent, once more. I was bathed in Sunlight, like I always was when I sat atop this hill, and the sun seemed to give me life. I felt new energy soak my fur and seep through my bones, and my wings trembled as I found new strength within. I took another breath, and it felt as though I were drinking from the sun itself. My wings trembled and rose, pointed straight up from atop my back. And when that was not high enough, I extended my wings once more to their full length, until my wingtips touched the sky. I shivered as bliss filtered through my body. That feeling of a muscle being stretched to its fullest, but magnified a thousandfold. I had never believed I would be able to feel it again, not when my body was a litany of aches and pains during every moment of my unlife. But now, just briefly, those pains were forgotten. For a few wonderful seconds, I felt a warm breeze blow in over the ocean. It rustled through my wings, and I felt the wondrous sensation of flight, long forgotten by this Hollow pegasus. The wind pushed my body upwards, away from the ground, and my forehooves left the grass behind as I rose higher, balanced against the wind upon only my hinds. My own fire flared higher as I remembered how it felt to fly—no, how it felt to be the inheritor of the sky. To look down upon the world and the clouds around me, and feel that it was mine. The fire burned brighter in me than it ever had before, and just for a moment, just for a single fleeting instant as I silently offered praise to Celestia’s sun, I felt the curse recede. Deep within my chest, I felt a faint, thudding warmth. I was alive again, only for the length of a single heartbeat. All too soon, the warm breeze was gone. I fell back forward onto my forehooves, and exhaustion slammed into me as I collapsed into the dead grass. My cursed, rotten body fell to pieces, and I became limp as my puppet-strings were cut. My wings flopped limply to either side of me, as my face was pressed into the peat. I saw nothing, but I could feel the curse as it crept back into my bones and weighed me down. I lay there for millenia. Time had no meaning, as my body ached, and the gentle sunlight warmed the outermost layer of my dead flesh. The dry grass and cold, wet dirt felt soothing against my barrel. All I could do was breathe, in, and out, as agony enveloped me. I was being punished for my hubris, for thinking I could take flight again. The curse never wanted me to feel the sky again. But I would not succumb. Eventually, there was a voice. It took some time for me to understand the words, but I could feel a hoof pressed against my side, and the pressure gave me a focus beyond my own aching body. “Holly? Pegasopolis calling, wake up.” I shivered, and my eyes fluttered open. The dead grass stalks were poking at the interior of my eye sockets, and they itched, so I was forced to drag my hooves underneath myself. The presence at my side stepped away, and as I gathered the strength to turn my head, I let out a pained groan.  “Come on, don’t Hollow out on me now, not when we’re about to leave.” “I’m…I’m f-fine…” I could barely utter the lie, but I wasn’t Hollowed out entirely. At least, not yet. “Speech is good; walking is better. Want a hoof?” I nodded, and extended a shaking hoof. Magnus grasped it firmly in his own, and I felt disoriented as I was hauled to my hooves. My legs shook underneath me, and I stumbled slightly as I tried to find my balance. My wings still hung limp, with the tips drifting through the grass, and I didn’t have the strength to pull them back against my sides. I blinked at Magnus dumbly, as he looked me over. “You alright? You look like death warmed over. More than usual, I mean. We can’t afford to lose another guard, especially not when we’re about to leave.” I couldn’t keep my body from shaking, but I nodded again. Magnus looked skeptical, but he shrugged a moment later. “Alright, if you say you’re good, then I’m not gonna force the issue. Just get down the hill in one piece, alright? We’re leaving as soon as I check over the carts one last time, and Zecora wanted to talk to you as well. Her and Meadowbrook have a cart of their own, you can ride in that while you wake back up.” I nodded one final time, and Magnus stepped away, before he flapped his wings and took to the sky. I watched him enviously as he flew so easily, and dipped back below the canopy of the bayou. After he left, I forced my hooves to move, and nearly collapsed once more. But I had friends waiting for me at the other end of Baton Verte, and I yearned to be with them again. As magnificent as Celestia’s sun was, they were like my own personal sun. * * * As I stumbled down the main ramp of Baton Verte towards the reformed caravan, I heard arguing. Grapeshot seemed particularly incensed again, and in the distance, I could see her shouting at Meadowbrook. They both stood in front of a covered wagon, though the cloth that covered it was ragged and full of holes. Through those holes, I could see a full load of mouldering wooden barrels. "...doesn’t matter if he’s still regenerating, it’s disrespectful! How would you like to be carried across Equestria like that, in a barrel of all things?" "I’d see it as a wonderful opportunity to meditate without distraction." Meadowbrook stated, her voice weary. She turned to the stallion hitched up to the front of the wagon, a short, wide pony with more hair on his face than his scalp, almost like an adult version of Snips, and gave him a nod. I dimly recognized him as Cattail, one of Mage Meadowbrook’s descendents and her close assistant—I hadn’t had much opportunity to interact with him during our stay, but she had always spoken highly of him and his service. At that moment, I thought of my relationship with Zecora, and I wondered if she would ever think of me that way. Grapeshot just growled angrily, and stomped back up the line. Distantly, I heard her arguing again, presumably this time with Magnus. I couldn’t make out the words, but I heard his distinctive bark as he shouted her down. Meadowbrook caught my eye as she walked back to another wagon, and waved me over. This one was meant for passengers, and as I approached, I could see Zecora, Dinky, and Snails already riding in the back. Dinky gave me a wave as I approached, and she pulled Snails further in to make a space for me on the bench. Zecora also gave me a nod, but her eyes fell downwards immediately after. This trip had taken a lot out of all of us. Dinky used her levitation to help pull me into the wagon, and Meadowbrook clambered in awkwardly after me. Dinky tilted her head as I collapsed into my seat, and she swapped seats with Snails to sit between us both. “Holly? Are you okay? You look really...not great, what happened?” I shrugged. “D...dunno. I w-was prac-practicing my br-breathing...and then tr-tried to str-stretch my wi-wings…” Dinky raised her eyebrows. “Really? You can feel them again?” At my nod, her eyes lit up. “Cool! Can you fly, do you think?” I shook my head sadly, and Dinky’s expression fell. She turned back to Snails, and then pulled us both into a wide hug with her forehooves. Snails and I leaned heavily into her, and while I can’t speak for Snails, I was glad for the company, and her warmth. Hoofsteps squelched through the mud beside our wagon, and Magnus reappeared behind it, looking in. “FInal checks. We’re not coming back to Baton Verte until the demon problem is solved, so are you sure you have everything, Med?” Meadowbrook nodded, and flicked a hoof in the direction of the wagon before ours. “All my equipment, any remaining ingredients, and some very personal keepsakes, yes.” She hesitated, and then added, “I’ve also double-checked Autumn’s barrel. His is marked, and loaded in my wagon.” Magnus let out a long sigh,and then nodded. “Alright. Dinky, Snails, Holly, are you good to walk alongside the caravan? We need every guard we can get. A few of the Baton Verte townsfolk are armed, but not nearly enough to fight off a real attack by more than a couple demons.” Dinky nodded, then bumped Snails, who nodded as well. I couldn’t bring myself to do the same, and Zecora noticed. “Commander Magnus, my apprentice is clearly not feeling her best. She shall join the formation as we approach the Everchaos, after she has had some time to rest.” Magnus curled his lip, but he didn’t argue. “Alright. Dinky, Snails, rearguard. Make sure nopony, and no creature, is following us as we leave.” They both nodded, and shuffled out of the wagon to follow Magnus as he checked the caravan. I was left back in the wagon with only my teacher, and her own teacher above her for company. They both looked incredibly tired, and I was particularly worried about Zecora. The embers of the Zebra’s eyes seemed much more dull than they were before, and for a long while, she seemed content to simply spare into space in front of her. Even Meadowbrook amused herself by idly playing with her pyromancy ember. After a short while, Magnus barked distantly, “Forward!” I heard the wagon before us squeak and groan as it began to move, and then our own was moving to follow it. The wagon behind us, pulled by another Hollowed resident of Baton Verte, followed suit. Meadowbrook sighed. “Once more, I leave my hometown, without knowin’ when next I’ll be back.” * * * By the time I was feeling better, and less exhausted, our wagon was slowly crawling up the side of the valley. Out of the back of the wagon, I could see the narrow trail that our caravan was following, and the distant bayou downslope. Meadowbrook in particular seemed to be looking over the treetops. “I…” My voice cracked; my lips were dry. It got Meadowbrooks attention, though, and she turned to look at me. After a moment, she reached into her saddlebag and pulled out a leather canteen. I took a sip of the water inside, coughed to clear my throat, and then continued. “I’m s-sorry we c-couldn’t...h-help more...” I trailed off as Meadowbrook sighed, and then reached across the wagon to pat my leg. “Holly…might not feel like ya helped. But ya brought Zecora by, and we did make some progress while ya helped more directly ‘round town. Somethin’ to show to Celessia, at-” All of a sudden, Zecora shushed her. “Do you intend to blab to all about this breakthrough? I thought we agreed that the number of equines who know about it should be very few!” Meadowbrook glared at her. “Well, it be your creation. Don’t ya think yer apprentice oughta know about it too, since she gon’ be helpin’ ya in Cannerlot?” Zecora nickered quietly, and shot a glare back, but eventually conceded. She waved me over with a hoof, and I scooted down the bench of the wagon, so that Zecora could talk to me in relative privacy. Meadowbrook simply went back to staring out the back of the wagon, apparently disinterested in helping with this explanation. My teacher reached into her own saddlebags by her side, and, from the leather, drew out a wide-necked bottle blown from green glass. A silvery cork plugged the neck, but most strange of all seemed to be the liquid contained within. It was hard to tell through the glass, but it seemed to be colored like liquid sunlight, and the glow it exuded illuminated the interior of the wagon around us. “Meadowbrook and I combined our knowledge together, on Pyromancy, potions, and equine anatomy. I will spare you the details of how we made the bottle, but the contents are plain to see.” Zecora gently passed the bottle to me, and I took it in my own hooves. Instinctively, I cradled it like a foal; I was deeply afraid of dropping it, should the wagon hit a sudden bump in the road. Even through the glass, I could feel the power within, and it was surprising how much it felt like another pony’s fire in liquid form. “Wha-what is it…?” “We intended to create a bottle that could filter magic from the air itself, for use in our work. Such a medium would replenish itself without using resources, but instead, it has developed a...quirk.” Zecora waved her hoof between us both. “Like us, the bottle itself seems afflicted with the Hollow curse, or rather…it seems afflicted with the inverse. The bottle refills with liquid fire, the same stuff that makes up the soul of an equine. In fact, it seems to siphon the fire from those around itself, although after testing, the effect seems benign.” The bottle was…drawing strength from us, to fill itself? That was worrying, because we didn’t have much left to give. If Zecora said it was harmless, though, then I believed her. “The liquid created within is strange, but seems to be contained safely inside. Already, a few experiments have had completely unexpected effects, and there are many things we’ve not yet tried.” I passed the bottle gently back to Zecora, and she nodded towards Meadowbrook. “Though Meadowbrook does not wish to share credit, we have made two copies of this flask. After all, Magnus warned us that returning to Ponyville would not be an easy task.” She placed the flask back into her saddlebags, instead of her bottomless bag. I noticed this, and asked why, since it seemed as if it was so important. Zecora nodded, and patted her bottomless bag as she explained. “Though you are correct that it may be safer to carry the flask in such a way, when I was packing up my bags, Meadowbrook had something to say. She seems to believe that the different magic of the two objects…uh...might conflict and damage them both, as well as cause other undue effects.” Meadowbrook nodded as she turned back to face us “Both are new magic, relatively speakin’. I still don’t trust that bottomless bag, or the abyss within.” When she turned back around, she raised an eyebrow. “Got a visitor. Looks like Magnus wants somethin’.” The Commander dropped in from above to hover behind the wagon, and gave us all a friendly nod. “Was just coming back to check on you three. We’re entering the Everchaos soon, and Holly, I need you up near the front of the caravan. You work well with Archmagus Dinky.” Zecora placed a hoof on my shoulder, and smiled. “Good luck, and keep us safe, my Hollowed friend. Remember that it is not just us two whom you must defend.” I nodded, checked my armor was still strapped on tightly, and that my cavalry sword was still in its sheath. Then I clumsily climbed out of the back of the rolling wagon, and followed Magnus back up along the length of the caravan. * * * At first we ended up doing a lot less fighting than Magnus seemed to have expected. Instead, the duties of Dinky and I seemed to be more related to fixing the road, while Magnus kept a watch on the treeline. We’d only barely entered the edges of the burnt-out forest when the road began to be filled with potholes, from falling branches or roots burned out from below, and while we could fill them in using branches and big globs of mud that Dinky lifted with her magic, it was incredibly slow going. My hoof erupted in flame once more, and the mud under my hoof dried and cracked. This was good practice for my pyromancy, at least. After a moment, I pressed the same hoof against the warm surface of the mud, and nodded to Dinky. She turned back to the wagon behind us, and lit her horn. “Alright, roll it forward!” We both stepped to the side of the road as the lead wagon slowly rattled and creaked, and rolled over our patches in the road. They weren’t well-made, but they’d hold well enough to move the caravan through. Dinky blew through her nose as she looked at the smoldering woods around us. “This is such a stupid route. If the roads are this bad already, how are they going to be inside the actual forest?” “Th-think we sh-should...t-turn around?” I looked up at Magnus, who was hovering above us. He couldn’t seem to hear the conversation, or maybe his mind was just elsewhere. He seemed to be peering at something in the distance. Dinky shook her head. “Even if we could, Magnus wouldn’t let us. He’s too damn determined to get to the firebreak, so the soldiers can take the heat off of us. But that’s still a lot of ponies to move through a trench-” “Movement, southwest!” Magnus barked suddenly from above, and both Dinky and I jumped. I drew my cavalry sword, while Dinky used her magic to draw her silver rapier. Now that I was up close, I could see the faint inscriptions freshly etched into the base of the blade, and how they glowed, just faintly, with gentle cyan sorcery. In the distance, I heard a rhythmic noise, like the clacking of hooves on wood. Everypony’s ears swiveled to follow the sound, and everypony who still needed breath held it in. Whether to listen more clearly, or to hope we somehow avoided detection. The noise approached fast, and others followed. Loud panting of exertion, and the gallop of hooves through mud, hidden only by a thin barrier of burnt bushes to our left. I saw flashes of color, yellows and oranges, but those might have just been the flickers of the Everchaos in the distance. The leading edge continued past us, but some of the galloping hooves slowed, then paused. A moment later, a yellow blur exploded out of the bushes about midway down the line, and another darker blur followed it. All around us, on both sides of the road, lithe dark shapes emerged from the underbrush. I vaguely recognized Apple Bloom, and I from the way Dinky’s magical grip on her blade dipped, I knew she did too. But we had more pressing issues, as her pursuers paused to investigate us instead, while Apple Bloom galloped away into the underbrush. They were like ponies, but lither, more athletic. Long necks held elegant heads high, tipped with antlers. They were clothed in rough armor made of leather and fur, with burning tree bark for reinforcement. Their antlers were glowing, in the same way as a unicorn's horn would, but the corona emitted was green and smoking. Their magic was not our magic, but it was similar, and they used it like we would, to hold primitive, jagged stone weapons in an orbit around them. “Deer,” Dinky hissed to me, under her breath. “They’re- they’re native to the Everfree, or—they were—Apple Bloom must have agitated the…the survivors-” We examined them, and they examined us, but something was wrong. The deer seemed burnt, as if they had been set aflame, but hadn’t been able to extinguish themselves. Their fur was patchy, and where it remained, it was wiry and stiff, clearly catching against the armor’s straps and shaking in the breeze. Their flesh underneath was carbonized—burnt until it had blackened, turned hard and brittle. And yet, as they turned their heads, examining us, that blackened flesh cracked and crumbled. Underneath, the glow of chaosfire and burning muscle was exposed, hardening as it was exposed to the air like cooling magma. They were like the trees themselves had come alive, still burning, and had begun to hunt the invaders of their forest. Was this what happened to equines caught alight by chaosfire? The worst feature was their eyes; they burned like ours, like those of a Hollowed undead, but they burned too bright. These were no embers, but burning kindling within their charred, cracking skulls, and as their eyes swept over us, rage and fury made their eyes shimmer with heat. Fire-blackened lips cracked apart to expose broken teeth that looked more like tiny lumps of coal, and a mouth full of cracked flesh that bled fire. The deer grunted, a gutteral hissing noise that sounded like a sneeze in reverse, and the bushes shifted behind them. How many were there? This had to be a hunting party of at least twelve, focused on their pursuit of Apple Bloom. All of them were hissing and grunting like feral beasts. The weapons held in their own strange fae magic were all stained with demon blood and ash. The does had no antlers, and thus no magic to hold weapons, but instead, their hooves were stained red and gray and they glowed like my own; maybe their own version of pyromancy? Above us, Magnus beat his wings slowly, and was gradually losing altitude. As he descended, he held out a hoof. “We’re just passing through. We don’t want any-” The yellow blur of Apple Bloom emerged once more from the brush, and Magnus’ eyes locked onto her. At the same time, one of the does let out a wild bleat, and then the forest exploded into chaos as the deer attacked as one. Magnus swore, and with a sweeping downbeat of his wings, he changed direction sharply to chase after the rogue alchemist, which left us to deal with the deer ourselves. Dinky and I were charged by the first two who had emerged from the trees. The one who leapt for me swung an axe of cracked flint with such ferocity that I knew it would snap my sword’s blade, and I had to dodge, as I clumsily sidestepped the deer’s charge. That opened me up, and he tilted his head to catch me with a glancing blow from his antlers. Even a glancing blow was deadly, however, and hot fire stabbed through my side as the burning antlers punctured my armor like it was nothing. I gasped as I staggered back, and boiling ichor spattered across the undergrowth as the antlers were yanked back out of my side. Beside me, Dinky fared only slightly better. Her opponent had a dozen wooden spikes, like oversized splinters, which orbited around his head. Two by two, he shot them like arrows, or flicked his head to use them like daggers. DInky was overwhelmed, her horn burning as shields flickered to life around her, deflected a blow, and were just as quickly dispelled. She snarled, as she loosed a golden bolt of magic at her opponent, and he didn’t even dodge; he took the full strength of the blow in his breast with barely a grunt, and staggered back slightly as his own burning ichor sealed the wound. It hissed and bubbled as it cooled, and hardened in his chest as if to form a new armor-plated scab. He advanced again, and only the divot carved into his breast remained as evidence of the strike. My own opponent swung his axe horizontally; a decapitation blow. With Dinky at my side, I didn’t have the room to back up, so I had to duck under it. As I stood back up, I advanced, stabbing my sword forward and up. Fire crawled down my blade as I struck his shoulder, and then I saw stars as he whipped the grip of his axe into the side of my head. My hooves went out from under me, and my cavalry sword dropped into the ashen mud as I fell. My opponent stepped closer, axe raised high over his head, but another bolt from Dinky sheared through one of his antlers. It fell away, sparking with chaosfire and wild magic, and he finally reacted, howling as he turned to face her instead. He was not yet disarmed; his axe still floated nearby, though it wobbled unsteadily and his strikes with it were clumsy now. I looked away as Dinky whinnied in pain; saving me had taken her eyes off her own opponent, and three wooden spikes had buried themselves in her side before she could start to block them again. I struggled to stand as she fought off both of them, quickly growing tired from overuse of magic and from having to split her attention. Dazed and desperate, I gave up on standing and simply shoved myself off the ground at the axe-wielding deer, and tackled him with my weight. Dinky only spared a thankful glance as we fell together, before she refocused fully on her own fight. The burning deer hit the mud first, and there was an awful hissing, spitting sound as the mud boiled under his weight. I landed atop him, and it felt as though I’d landed in a bed of coals. The surface was cool, but any pressure broke through the crust of his flesh and released the compact inferno underneath. I screamed and battered my hooves against his muzzle, and I watched as my blows and his flowing magma began to deform the shape of his head. Then the head of his axe slammed into my side, and I rolled off of him, into the dead undergrowth. Any chaosfire that had clung to my fur was thankfully extinguished as fresh mud splashed my side, but that same mud burned as it splattered into my new wounds. I felt the pressure of the axe being yanked free, and it took all of my strength to grab onto its grip. It only seemed to slow him down; he still pulled us both out of the undergrowth as I clung onto the weapon, trying to rip it free of his crippled levitation. He yanked it high, and I swung my head forward, smashing my forehead into the end of his muzzle. Finally, he staggered, and the axe fell as I clung to it. My face was hot, burning from his cursed ichor splashing across it, but I had no time. Standing, my own face aflame, I swung the axe up and then back down in an arc that terminated at his throat. As it slammed home with a grisly ‘crack,’ the embers of his eyes dimmed, and I tasted bloody, burning victory. I had to drop back into the mud, and I splashed some of the grimy liquid across my muzzle before the pain dulled. I was absolutely covered in burns, and I was thankful, albeit confused, that I had somehow avoided contracting whatever internal fire had infected the deer. I had no time to truly contemplate it though; my face was covered in mud, and it filled my eyes, and I was helpless if another deer sought to attack me. I took a few, awful moments of frantic wiping and scraping at my muzzle and eyes before I could see again, through a vignette of ashen mud. Dinky seemed to be able to handle herself, and I used the few seconds of safety I had earned in order to look around us. The caravan was in shambles. With no battle line, the helpless townsponies had fled into the burning forest or stayed to defend the wagons. Small groups huddled with their backs to their wagons, and those that were undefended were ablaze. Smoke filled the exposed road, with real fire blending with the corrupted chaosfire, and the Baton Verte militia were doing everything they could to keep the deer from overwhelming us all. As I watched, two more deer leapt out of the treeline and uppercut a hollow with their horns, before they tossed them out of sight. They chased after the townspony, and screams followed from that direction. A corpse fell into the mud behind me, and yanked me out of my daze. Thankfully, it was Dinky’s opponent and not the filly herself; the deer had fallen, with a fresh hole magically drilled through his skull. I scrambled to my hooves as Dinky panted. “Holly! We gotta-we gotta get out of here! Where’s Snails, where’s Magnus, or Zecora?” I gaped like a fish, unsure of the answer, but I pointed back along the caravan. Zecora’s wagon was back there…but that was where Apple Bloom had first emerged. Dinky realized it too, a moment later, and she swore before she started to gallop in that direction. She wheezed in pain as she ran, and dark blood soaked her cloak. I followed behind as quickly as I could, but one of the deer’s strikes had damaged my foreleg, so I galloped with a jerking limp. We passed by a half-a-dozen fights on our way, and every single fight tore at me. Ponies were dying, slain and drained by the tainted deer of the Everchaos, and we couldn’t stop to help. Zecora was more important, and while we might win a single fight, attrition would wear us down if we tried to participate in every scuffle. I squinted my eyes and tried to ignore the shouting and smashing of wood against steel, the echoes of gunshots, but they were all around us. I couldn’t escape them. Meadowbrook’s supply cart had been overturned, and a great deal of the barrels had broken, and spilled their contents into the muck. We leapt over a pile of broken bottles and kept moving, because the wagon they had been riding in had to have been right behind it. Smoke and the scent of strange brews had permeated the air. A dozen potions had already been thrown and shattered, or drunk with the bottle discarded. Zecora and Apple Bloom seemed to have been fighting from the beginning, and we arrived only just as Apple Bloom gained the upper hoof. In the time we’d spent regaining our strength at Baton Verte, Apple Bloom had retrieved and repaired her billhook, though the binding along the shaft looked shoddy and improvised. Zecora was laying on her back, hooves trembling against the shaft of the billhook, which Apple Bloom was trying to crush against her throat.  Meadowbrook was nowhere to be seen, and neither was Magnus. Had they fled together, and left Zecora here to fight? Or had Apple Bloom fought both of them off, and had only just begun to finish her old mentor when we arrived? As Apple Bloom saw us, she snarled, and slammed the billhook down one more time to break Zecora’s grip. The zebra coughed and choked on the ground as her wayward apprentice stood, eyes focused on me and Dinky. She evaluated us, took our measure by her eyes, and I think she remembered our defense of Zecora from her first attack.  After a moment, she ripped a potion vial off her bandoleer and smashed it against the ground. A cloud of smoke rolled over all of us, and the impromptu arena became impossible to navigate. I felt Dinky’s fire by my side, but the fog of war seemed to blank out all other presences within the caravan, including Apple Bloom, Zecora, and the townsponies and deer fighting and dying all around us. “Apple Bloom!” Dinky shouted, and her silhouette glowed with golden light as she swept around us with her horn. “What in Tartarus are you doing?! Why are you attacking us, why provoke the deer?! We’re trying to save Equestria! Zecora’s trying to fix this curse!” Zecora’s own voice, weakened and interspersed with coughing, came from entirely the wrong direction. “My old apprentice, your young friend speaks true...I don’t understand why you attack us...what did we do?” When Apple Bloom spoke, her voice came from above us, somehow. “And ah don’t understand why ya’ll would want to ‘fix’ her gift. Awful rude, t’ try and ruin it for everypony.” Had she jumped up into the trees somehow? Dinky and I looked up to try and figure out where she was talking from, and because of that, her first blow was deadly. Movement flashed off to my side, and I just barely saw Apple Bloom leap towards me, then land on her back in the mud. She slid under me in an instant, and her billhook stabbed up like the tail of a scorpion. By the time Dinky and I managed to take action, I had lost all feeling in my hinds, aside from a sharp, burning pain in my belly and back. Ichor splattered as Apple Bloom ripped the billhook back out of my gut, and Dinky loosed her sorcery wildly into the mist to try and get a lucky shot, while I collapsed limply into the mud. I could only move my fores, and as I tried to roll over onto my back, blinding pain from my open wound made me groan loudly in agony. Golden bolts arced into the fog all around us, and they were met by a glowing green potion, which was intercepted by one of the bolts. The bottle exploded, and putrid rain tainted the mist, though thankfully we seemed to escape the worst effects of whatever the potion had been. Hooves galloped through the mud nearby, and I grabbed wildly, as I hoped to trip up Apple Bloom. But instead, the legs I tangled myself in were long and orange, and I heard Snails yelp as he collapsed on top of me. In the distance, I heard the report of twin shotgun blasts—he and Grapeshot must have made the same decision as us, and ran here to help Zecora and Meadowbrook. Just like Snips so long ago, Snails had galloped into the fog to help ponies within. “This stupid fog!” Dinky shrieked, and her horn burned brightly for a few seconds. Then there was the sound of a thunderclap, and my ears popped as a massive pressure wave erupted outwards, with Dinky at the epicenter. The fog was dispersed in an instant, or at least shoved back, and we could see clearly in its wake. Zecora had crawled closer to us, and our ichor was beginning to dye the gray mud red. Snails was still stunned and lay atop me, while Dinky stood in the center of it all, her eyes wild. Back over by the wagon, Grapeshot and Apple Bloom were both struggling over Grapeshot’s shotgun, with the former trying to snap the breach closed and the latter trying to pull it out of her magic. A moment later, Apple Bloom took the advantage when she slammed her hoof upwards, and landed a strike directly against Grapeshot’s horn, which caused her magic to fizzle out. Apple Bloom now had the shotgun, while Grapeshot was left writhing on the ground at her hooves, and she snapped the breach closed as she turned the weapon towards Dinky. My friend had just enough time to summon a golden shield between the two of them before Apple Bloom fired both barrels from the hip, but it wasn’t enough. The first blast ricocheted off the shield in a dozen directions, and I saw smoking trails punch holes in the wagons around us, or rustle the burnt leaves of the trees. The second blast was just too much for Dinky to repel, and the shield shattered with a sound like breaking glass. As the golden shield exploded inwards, Dinky threw her hoof up to cover her face as the shards dissolved from reality, and the buckshot continued onwards in a haze of gunsmoke. That gunsmoke covered Apple Bloom’s advance, and she leapt out of it with a flying kick that slammed into Dinky’s shoulder, and knocked her into the mud as well. With all of us on the ground, at least momentarily incapacitated, Apple Bloom took her time as she strode back to Zecora. “Can’t cure this. Can’t be allowed t’ cure us. Not after what she sacrificed.” Zecora tried to crawl away, but she never had a chance. Apple Bloom brutally kicked her over onto her back, and her saddlebags spilled open, and dumped all of their contents into the mud by her side. Old scrolls, small vials of ingredients, and finally, the golden, glowing flask. As soon as Apple Bloom laid eyes upon it, it was her sole focus. Zecora seemed almost forgotten as she stepped over the older zebra, and plucked the flask out of the mud to cradle it. “Is…is this your cure?” Apple Bloom seemed almost in shock, as she turned it over in her hooves. “Ya’ll are closer than I ever coulda guessed, from all the time I spent watchin’ you…but this is…” Apple Bloom’s brow furrowed. “This fire, ah recognize...why does it feel like…?” Zecora hauled herself up and grabbed wildly at Apple Bloom’s potion bandolier, and the calm was broken. Apple Bloom slammed the blunt tip of the billhook’s handle into Zecora’s cheek, and the older alchemist fell back, while Apple Bloom shoved the flask through a too-tight loop on her bandolier. She let out a feral snarl as she stood over Zecora’s prone body once more. “Too close to a cure. Ya’ll are too dangerous. Ah’ll see how you did it, anyhow.” Apple Bloom grabbed Zecora by the scruff of her neck with a Pyromancer’s grip, and Zecora writhed and howled as pink fire began to bleed out of her eyes, her mouth, her nose. The Hollow Curse overtook her in seconds, as her eyes fully receded, her fur dulled and wrinkled, and her mouth lolled open dumbly. Zecora was gone, I knew at that moment. All that had made her Zecora, her memories, feelings, thoughts, and mastery of Pyromancy, all of that had been drawn out of her. It had been stolen by her former student. And I, her current student, had just sat idly by and watched. I watched her go Hollow, just like Diamond Tiara, just like Snips. In that moment, all the burning and bleeding agony of my body was insignificant compared to the pang in my chest, wrenching, breaking, crying out, as I watched my friend and mentor die before me. I could only give out a raspy wail, as the mud that had coated my cheeks turned liquid with tears. Apple Bloom let her fall, and the Hollow corpse fell back into the mud as the last of the pink fire writhed around her hoof, and Apple Bloom combined the stolen fire with her own Pyromancy ember. Her eyes glowed a little bit more brightly, and she seemed just a little bit faster as she drew the golden flask once more, and stared at it. There was a strange ‘pop’ sound in the distance, like displaced air. Seeing Zecora get drained seemed to galvanize Dinky, and the teenaged filly struggled to her hooves a short distance away. For a terrifying moment, I thought she was going to attract Apple Bloom’s attention and try for a shot against her back, but Dinky hesitated, and her eyes flicked to us. I was still crippled, and Snails seemed too terrified to move, even though he’d long disentangled himself from me. Dinky made her decision and staggered over to us as her horn began to glow. The movement finally caught Apple Bloom’s attention, and she turned to look at us. Cold anger overtook her face once more, and she drew a potion, then hooked it onto her billhook with the intent of whipping it at our bleeding pony pile. But Apple Bloom moved just a bit too slow. By the time the potion had been thrown, Dinky had let loose a wail of exertion, and then her horn flashed gold. Nausea overtook me as the colors of the forest around bled like oil paint, and the three of us left only afterimages as the potion shattered in the space where we had been only a moment ago.