//------------------------------//
// 177 - Do you think Equis is Ready for a Railgun? 
// Story: An Extended Holiday 
// by Commander_Pensword 
//------------------------------//

Extended Holiday
Chapter 177: Do you think Equis is Ready for a Railgun?




“Yeah.” Hammer Strike stared blankly at Celestia and Luna. “Your brother, Yharon?”

Celestia shook her head. “Father, it was just us and Starlight Bulwark. We don’t remember anyone else.”

Hammer Strike frowned. “Then something is wrong.” He turned back to the deck’s entrance to the interior, where Binding stood on standby. “Binding, you remember Yharon, correct?”

“Irrefutably,” Binding agreed as he observed the two much more closely.

Hammer Strike’s frown deepened before he turned to Celestia and Luna. “We’ll discuss this later to figure out what’s going on. We need to depart for now.”

Binding tapped his glasses and stared intently at the mares for a moment, then nodded. “Best listen to your father for now, girls. Once we’re settled in, we’ll call you for a proper examination.”

Luna sighed. “I am still confused about all this.”

“We’ll figure it all out later. Go on now.” Hammer Strike gave a soft smile.

Meanwhile, the Gantrithor hummed to life as the ship began to slowly re-orient itself toward Unity.

“Go on, we’ll discuss things later,” Hammer Strike urged again as he turned toward the ship’s main entrance. The two sisters looked nervously between one another, then flew back toward the castle below. The rest of the party followed Grif to the bridge.

“So, before we left to get you, I received a message from my network,” Grif explained as he worked on getting the ship in place. “Lochton, a reasonably sizable settlement on the east coast, went dark a few days ago. The report was from the scout who went there. The entire town’s been shrouded in a type of bubble of dark mist.”

Hammer Strike frowned. “If it isn’t one thing, it’s another. I assume you’ll be fine to handle it with whoever else you bring?”

“It stinks of Sombra,” Grif said. “And he’s mine.” He growled. “But we need containment as well, militia to cover the entrances and exits and keep curious people out. And at least two kinds of magic users to keep whatever's inside inside.”

“You’ll have it from New Unity. Of that, I’m sure. As for containment….” Hammer Strike reached into his coat and pulled out a familiar tube. “My null fields should assist, though it’s unlikely to be perfect. Take one.”

“Time for Avalon to test out her trainees, too,” Grif said as he reached for the proffered device.

“Also, have everyone who comes with tie themselves to the device. It’s the only alternative to a contract,” he explained.

“Can you stick around the outside?” Grif asked. “This stinks of lovecraftian monsters.”

“If it did, I don’t think my presence would be for the best. They’re attracted to me.” Hammer Strike raised a brow. “But, if you think you’ll need my presence, then I can do so.”

“Pensword?” Grif called.

“We take him down, and take him down hard,” Pensword growled. “I’ll make sure to use what troops I command to quarantine the zone. Nothing out, and only you and your team in, Grif.”

“It will be a small team,” Grif said. “It’s time for Day Moon to see what the business is all about.”

Pensword whipped his head back at Grif and glared.  “You’d better bring him back alive, Grif. My last few hunts before the mad bear was with my mother or uncle. And while I did the larger shake, they were there in case something worse showed up. Don’t you dare toss him into the wild like some Gryphon parent does. Understood?”

“Hammer Strike, I’m driving. Smack him for me?” Grif growled.

“I’d kill most of you with that,” Hammer Strike replied.

“Then just glare at him or something. I understand you care about him, Pensword, but that was out of line.”

Pensword turned and walked up to a wall, then began to bang his head against it, cursing under his breath as he finally realized the full extent of what he’d said and implied of his friend in the heat of the moment.

Grif pulled the Gantrithor into its dock, then left it hovering. There wasn’t much time. He raced for the door at a surprisingly normal speed. “Vital, get Zecora. If it comes down to it, I want the spirits pushing back against this thing. Thirty minutes. Be here or walk.” Grif left the room and took to the air, heading for the compound.

Pensword nodded his head and took flight to the Thestral Compound. It would be Grif’s responsibility to inform Day Moon. He’d also have to get Moon River distracted or she might try to follow.

“Be back in a flash,” Vital said. “Literally.” Bright light flashed briefly as Vital Spark’s teleportation went off.

Binding frowned. “I thought I taught them how to turn that off,” he murmured as he blinked. Fortunately, his glasses had taken the brunt of the flash.

“It’s been countless years with records lost. That’s just a byproduct of it,” Hammer Strike replied. “How long do you suspect until Clover appears before us?”

“I may be a strategist, Hammer Strike, but that depends entirely on whether or not she knows you’re back and you again.”

“Our tether,” Hammer Strike replied. “She just had an influx of power, and given she didn’t appear immediately, I have a feeling she was in the middle of an experiment or task, resulting in cleanup.”

Clover appeared seconds later and barreled into the stallion, kissing him deeply. After the embrace, Hammer Strike blinked a few times.

“Didn’t see that coming.”

“You made me wait that long. You’re lucky I don’t slap you,” she said.

“I suppose I can at least blame that toward the Alicorns,” Hammer Strike replied. “Was  the influx of power a surprise?”

“Yes,” she said. “You’re a lot stronger than I remember.”

“Well, I suppose it was different from how I am now.”

Rarity smiled at the two, and her eyes sparkled at the sight of the touching reunion. “I’m so glad you two can finally be together again.”

“This certainly makes things interesting in terms of figuring this all out,” Hammer Strike remarked before sighing. “But, we have work to do first. I’m afraid I must ask the two of you to depart for now.” He directed to Rarity and Twilight. “Given the dire situation Grif has noted, I won’t allow any risks to befall either of you. Clover, even if I didn’t want you to go, if you wanted to, you would.”

“I probably should be present,” Clover agreed.

“Is this going to be anything like when you first moved into Unity?” Twilight asked.

“That isn’t a possibility any longer.” Hammer Strike shook his head. “Trust me, there have been attempts beyond that.”

“I mean is the threat level the same?”

“I have no idea.”

Twilight sighed. “Then I suppose I should trust your judgement. You promise to keep in contact with us?”

“I shall.” Hammer Strike chuckled. “While I have the time, there is one thing I need to check on. After all, she would be of use, given the implications.”

“She who?”

“Harmony.” He smirked as he opened a rift to his side. “While the tether exists, it appears she hasn’t noticed me yet. I shall return shortly.”

“As in the tree of harmony?”

“Correct. She’s an embodiment in the physical realm. Her gifts to assist everyone must be taking a toll on her energy reserves, so I shall replenish what I can.” Hammer Strike nodded before turning toward the rift. “One moment.”





Hammer Strike stepped through the rift and appeared before Harmony. The tree was almost as it had been when he left it. She had experienced a few changes, however. The core of her form created a massive star while five other knot-like protrusions along her larger branches held notches shaped like each of the elements’ stones, and each of the elements sat snugly there, pulsing gently with her.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” He gave a soft smile as he walked over to her. While there wasn’t too much of a response, he raised his hoof and placed it against one of the roots, forming a manual tether to give her energy. “Come on now. It’s time to get up.”

“Forgive my bluntness, but it took you long enough. And that’s coming from a tree,” Harmony noted. Her voice sounded tired, but carried a hint of playfulness and relief.

“Oh, hush now.” He gave a brief smirk. “You hid yourself from my past self.”

“You would have destroyed me if you had the chance back then. I had little choice.”

“Not that version of me.” Hammer Strike frowned at the statement. “Afterwards. For the half a year before and after that.”

“You had no memory of me from before you helped me to grow. Did you expect me to risk breaking your timeline? Father would have been furious.”

“It wouldn’t have broken it, though it would have made things more clear.” Hammer Strike chuckled briefly. “Take as much of my energy as you need to get yourself feeling fine.”

“My children have helped me a great deal in that regard. But I can’t very well say no to such a precious gift.” The tree pulsed as a small root wrapped around Hammer Strike’s hoof. Energy pulled along the connection into the crystalline confines of the tree. The boughs tinkled, and a deep sigh flowed through the cavern as the familiar projection slowly took shape. Her eyes were closed, as though she were basking in pleasure. And then she stood before him, the same Harmony in all her splendor. “I needed that,” she admitted as the root retracted itself from his hoof and returned to the ground.

“I figured you did.” Hammer Strike chuckled. “I have plenty of questions, and I'm sure you have plenty of answers, but, as per usual, I’ve got work to do. Thankfully, having you alongside us will be something positive.”

“The corrupted one.” She spat violently. “His is the worst kind of order.”

“Then, shall we put an end to him?” Hammer Strike raised a brow as he opened a rift back to the Gantrithor.

“I don’t know what assistance I can grant, but I will do what I can. Until now, I’ve had to rely on my children’s chosen.”

“Your presence will certainly be a boon, I’m sure.” He smiled as he stepped through the rift and appeared on the Gantrithor once more. “Seven minutes. That didn’t take too long, thankfully.”

“How’s the tree?” Twilight asked.

“She’s fine,” Hammer Strike clarified. “She was just tired.”

“Is … that an Earth Pony thing? Because Applejack was the same way when we had to take one of her trees to Appleloosa.”

“No.” Hammer Strike chuckled briefly. “Here. Allow me to amplify the power I’m giving her. That should help her manifest to you both.” He focused on the tether between him and Harmony and channeled his will and energy through it.

Those present in the room stared as the air wavered briefly beside Hammer Strike. Then light and color gradually came into being as a corona of pink was swathed by two strong rainbow wings. The mare’s horn spiraled and sparkled with crystalline beauty reminiscent of the Crystal Ponies, yet this went beyond the coating that Ponies experienced when they channeled power into the crystal heart. This was true crystal throughout, a beautiful matrix of silicates and minerals all carefully bound together to produce the effects that the Ponies on the ship now beheld.

“Hello, Twilight Sparkle. I did not expect to speak with you so soon.” She bowed her head briefly to the princess, then turned to Clover. “And my fellow guardian. Thank you for watching over him in my absence. As Hammer Strike is to you, so, too, he is to me. Precious, kind, generous, and so much more that cannot be said.” She lowered her head again in deference to the mare who once was queen.

Clover returned it. “And thank you for guarding Equestria while I could not.”

Twilight gaped at the projection with her mouth ajar and her wings flung wide.

“You need not act so with me, Twilight Sparkle. I know you well, and you know me. You and your friends are what binds this realm together. Were it not for your births and your ultimate union on that fateful night, this world would be in dire straits, indeed. My children chose you well.”

“Your … children?”

“I am a tree in my physical form. And trees have been known to bear fruit. My fruits are pieces that help to embody what I am, what you might call aspects of an embodiment. Therefore, I call them my children.”

“The Elements of Harmony. Amusing how the name came to be.” Hammer Strike chuckled.

“You should know. You told them where to go.” Harmony stuck out her ethereal tongue.

“Yes, but I didn’t tell them to ‘take the elements.’” He smirked. “I just told them where you were.”

“Then perhaps my children called themselves by that name. It wouldn’t surprise me in the least. Elements comprise the whole of many things. Why not make elements the bodies of an aspect?”

“Perhaps.” Hammer Strike shrugged. “In any case, it shouldn’t be long before everyone else arrives back on board. Though I am curious as to where Binding and the others took off to.”

“I believe they were drawn by a contract of a different nature.”

“So they’re exploring,” Hammer Strike clarified.

“No, seeking. There is one who resides here whose magical contract is very powerful. He wishes to gain understanding of that contract and its effects to add to his knowledge. I believe he will find what he seeks in the heart of this ship.”

“He’s searching for ‘her,’ then.” Hammer Strike sighed, then raised his voice. “It’s been a while, but are you active in this part of the ship, Circlet?”

“I am present in all parts of the ship at all times. You know that,” Circlet’s voice filtered through the speakers.

He chuckled faintly. “It’s been two thousand years for me. Give me a break.”

“If I gave you a break, you’d complain about it and find harder work to do,” Circlet stated.

“Oh, shush now.” He rolled his eyes. “There are three individuals searching within the Gantrithor. Binding Strategy, Towering Wall, and Swift Wings. They’re safe when it comes to letting them explore all around, but please keep them from getting too lost.”

“I’ll keep a trail of lights to lead them,” Circlet promised. “And I’m … sorry,” she noted quietly.

“Not now.” Hammer Strike sighed. “But we have something to discuss when the time comes. Also, to clarify something, there are a series of Crystal Empire matrices within this ship, aren’t there?”

“While the Gryphons built the ship proper, the designs and basic mainframe were made in the empire,” she confirmed.

“Then that makes some things interesting…” Hammer Strike hummed.

“Should I keep the cannon on standby?”

“Please do. But if need be, I can do it myself.”

“My curiosity is piqued, though I have noticed someone has accessed the matrix with an access level that can only be considered ludicrous.”

“That would be me.” Hammer Strike gave a small smirk. “If need be, I can take control of most of the weapons on the ship, beside manual weaponry of course, at a moment's notice.”

“We’re going to have to discuss how you accessed the CPN later,” she noted. “Now seems like a bad time for details.”

“We will discuss things when we arrive.” Hammer Strike sighed. “To put it simply for the time being, I am the highest priority to exist in the CPN.”

Circlet didn’t reply. Clearly, Hammer Strike had left her more than a little stunned with that statement.





Pensword flew to the lodge as quickly as his wings would carry him. He wasted no time and hastily rang the bell to summon the settlement. The Thestrals were quick to rise and gather.

“Warriors of the Thestrals,” Pensword began, “I call you in the middle of the day for an urgent matter.”

Eclipse Darkbane shouldered his way through the populace to reach the front and better hear the commander’s announcement.

“Clan Leader Grif has knowledge that the shade Sombra, tyrant of the Crystal Empire and defiler of the pure night, has risen again here in Equestria. Lord Hammer Strike himself is gathering means and arms, and has sent me to rally any volunteers that I can together.

“However, in this instance, we are not to take the role of hunters of the night. That is for the Raven and the Wolf. Instead, Lord Hammer Strike has asked our aid in holding the line. Nothing can enter the defiler’s stronghold, and nothing can be allowed to get out. It is important to note that this is an entirely voluntary mission. No one will force you to come. All the same, I am asking it of you both on your lord’s behalf and for myself. Will anyone join us to prevent the return of the shadows of old and the corruption that trails in their wake?”

Every warrior of age stepped forward, and Eclipse smirked.

“Right. Gather your gear, get your weapons, and meet at the Ganthrathor’s docks within a half hour’s time. Anyone who is even a minute late will be left! I must go to make my own preparations. May moonlight guide and protect us.”

As the crowd began to disperse, Pensword approached his watcher. “A moment, Eclipse Darkbane.”

The stallion turned to face his charge. “Yes?”

Pensword bowed his head briefly. “While I have every confidence in the settlement’s capability and efficiency….” He paused for a time and swallowed heavily as he warred with his pride. But whether it was necessity, humility, or both acting in tandem, he finally broke through the blockage. “Would you do me the honor of leading the mobilization? As the stallion with the most recent military experience and as a seasoned warrior, you would be best qualified to get them to the docks on time. The breadth of your service and the height of your rank would command respect from any that might object.”

“You’re asking me?” He chuckled.

“I’m trusting you, should you agree to take the responsibility.”

Eclipse stared silently at Pensword for a time, then finally spoke. “Very well, Pensword. I’ll do as you ask. Luna would never forgive me if I obstructed this.”

Pensword nodded curtly. “Thank you. I’ll see you all at the Gantrithor.” Then he opened his wings and took to the skies. The next stop would be his family quarters and the hurdle of a creature almost as devious as Sombra himself, and a thousand times more likely to throw a tantrum. “I just hope my plan works to keep her there,” he muttered.

Back on the ground, Eclipse Darkbane maintained his stoic gaze until Pensword had gotten out of range. Then he turned and smiled. “Commander Pensword Hurricane,” he said under his breath, “there might just be hope for you yet.”





Grif landed in the compound and entered his home without hesitation. “Avalon, Shrial!” he called out as he went straight for his light armor and began dressing. The tone of voice was swift enough to summon the two while Gilda waddled behind.

“What is it, Grif?” Avalon asked.

“Sombra surfaced at a town on the east coast,” Grif noted as he tightened his breastplate. “The entire town’s shrouded in darkness, and no one’s been able to enter yet. I’m going to attempt to leverage my oath to get through. I need you and the initiates to create a barrier, so nothing gets out, Avalon. And Shrial, I need you leading troops in case it’s not enough,” Grif noted as he went through his equipment, taking the things that would help and discarding what seemed useless. Wolfsbane, garlic, kingsfoil, and other such crushed herbs were applied to various arrowheads. Two small crossbows were attached to loops at his sides.

“We’ll need to call Cheshire, then,” Shrial said.

“How strong a barrier are we talking here, Grif?” Avalon pressed. “And how large?”

“Large enough to cover a large town or a small city, and as strong as you can.” Grif sighed. “I have no idea what his plan is.”

“I would assume the same thing every evil megalomaniac does. Try to take over the world.” Avalon shrugged. “It’s a fairly standard stereotype.”

“He who underestimates his enemy underestimates himself,” Grif noted as he double and triple-checked. “Can you do it?”

“We haven’t been able to cover much in the barrier department yet, but we should be able to make it work. As they say, experience is often the best teacher. Like Shrial said, though, someone needs to get Cheshire. I have to rally the troops, Gilda can hardly move, and Shrial has to prepare for combat and keep the cubs in line.”

“And Grif has to get back to the Gantrithor as quickly as possible after he gets his monster-hunting equipment. Yes, yes. I know. How very … predictable,” Cheshire said from behind the girls. Once again, she appeared seemingly from nowhere with her cub in tow.

“I love you,” Grif said, giving each of his wives a kiss. “I need to find Day Moon,” he noted, then turned for the door.

“Don’t forget the road you choose, Grif,” Cheshire said seriously. “It’s important for more than just you this time.”

“I promise, Chesh. I will do my best. But his destiny is to be in the hunt, and what he will be hunting means he needs to learn firsthand about the danger.”

She smiled and bared her teeth in her famous grin. “Who said I was talking about the colt?” Then she turned toward the onslaught of the twins and grasped each of them before all three dissipated into the air. The giggles carried from the hall beyond in the upper floor. Cú Chulainn sat in front of his godfather and stared with the same serious gaze his father once used. He rose and padded on silent paws, then gave a brief hug before he turned and followed his mother. Whether he faded as she did or simply blended into his surroundings as his father once had, none could say.

Grif gave a brief smile after the cub before returning to his purpose. The hunt was on.





Pensword packed as swiftly as his hooves and wings could move while Lunar Fang and Fox feather helped him don the blessed armor Luna had crafted for him, a gift that had been forwarded to him after his appointment to Luna’s makeshift priesthood. However, the main problem was a small bundle of stubbornness with nerves of steel and wings that gripped like iron.

“Moon River,” Pensword spoke in a commanding tone, “you are to stay here and rally the foals. You are to lead their defenses here.”

“No! I fight,” she insisted vehemently.

“No!” Pensword snapped back. His own wings spread in intimidation alongside his rather poor attempt at a hiss.

Lunar Fang sighed and shook her head in resignation. “Dear, that isn’t going to work.”

“Night Terror, I want you to take her to the forest to hunt rabbits. Let’s see her face off against the Angel’s spawn.”

“No! I go!” Moon River demanded. “I have knife!” She waved the knife Luna and Hammer Strike gifted her recklessly.

If Pensword didn’t hurry, he knew he was going to be left behind.

There was a bright purple flash as Twilight Sparkle appeared in the room. The reason she was able to teleport in was the one who was clutching her back. Before the Pony could even get used to his new surroundings, he was falling over as the scream, “MINE!” rang through the room. Moon River nommed Bellacosa’s ear with happy squeaks.

Lunar Fang looked to Twilight and barely held back a laugh. “Do you know what you did?”

Twilight Sparkle looked around the room. “Prevent a stowaway situation that would pull needed resources from the front lines. Better to deal with a possessive foal not giving up her stallion then risking her getting anywhere near the S.”

“S?” Cosy asked before laughing at Moon River’s attentions. “Hey, that tickles!”

Pensword looked to Cosy. “Something that you don’t need to know about. Just make sure that Moon River is safe and keep her entertained. Enjoy your vacation together. Lunar Fang, Fox Feather, and Night Terror will be here to help with any problems.”

Cosy frowned. “What about you?”

“I must go to root out a rot that has sprung up in our lands. We will return when we clean it up. I’ll tell you what we did later.”

“I’ll hold you to that, Uncle.”

Pensword chuckled and ruffled the colt’s mane. “Good.” Then he kissed his wives, bid the other children farewell, and left the apartment. His Gryphon children were dressed in full armor along with his own body guard units. There wasn’t any need to ask them what they were doing. There were demons to be slain. There was only one thing to ask. “Where is LIghting Dust?”

Their leader answered. “Out on a training exercise with the cadets. You know how she is.”





“Day Moon!” Grif barked. He found the colt near the Thestral homes talking with several others his age. A cloak had been thrown over his back. “You need to get equipped. It’s time to hunt.”

The colt turned in surprise, but nodded quickly and bid his friends farewell. Grif followed him along the path around a corner, at which point the young Thestral flicked his wing open to thrust his cloak aside, revealing his hunting supplies. “You told me a hunter should be near his or her gear at all times.”

“You have Shadowsbane?” Grif asked.

He flicked the cloak on the other side of his barrel to reveal the sword.

Grif handed the colt several vials of holy water. “Dip your bolts in this and remember to keep one crossbow armed at all times. Then go give your brothers and your family a hug,” Grif said. “This is a real danger, Day Moon. These are creatures faster and stronger than you are. Death is a very real possibility. You understand me?”

Day Moon nodded. “I may be a little delayed if Moon River puts up a fuss.”

“We leave in fifteen minutes. Every minute we waste is another life we might save. I know I’m putting a lot on you, but if this is truly the calling you’re going to chase, you're going to need to come to grips with this fast.”

“And you know that if Moon River wants ten minutes to say goodbye, she’ll get it someway or another,” Day Moon answered.

“And that's ten minutes you won’t have to say goodbye to your girl.” Grif gave the colt a wink.

“Actually, Scootaloo is going to be in the bowels of the ship sharpening arrowheads.” He blushed before realizing just what Grif had said.

“Just Scootaloo, right? Because we really can’t afford the entire group right now.”

“Applebloom is busy with the harvest, and AJ is keeping a steely eye on her, because Pinkie says that she had one of her … well, episodes. And Sweetie, she’s actually in the next town with Dinky, picking up supplies and looking for new song books.”

“And Scootaloo will stay on the ship?” Grif clarified.

“I doubt anyone would let her leave without an escort. She wanted to learn about the military and my foster father’s life. Now she’s got it.”

“Very well.” Grif nodded. “I’ll see you onboard. Let's hunt well.” He extended his arm and offered Day Moon his talons.

“And have stories to tell over the fire.” Day Moon offered his hoof back, and Grif clasped it firmly.





The speed with which Vital Spark raced to Zecora’s tree bespoke his urgency as he pushed open the door to stare at his sister. There was no time for rhyming, so he cut straight to the chase in Zwahili. “Zecora, Hammer Strike needs your help, and I’m pretty sure you already know why.”

Zecora nodded. “I am aware. Your friend will have to deal with that which he has sworn to destroy.”

“And Hammer Strike and Grif want us to help on the outside dealing with anything on the spiritual side of things, and to keep whatever we can inside the barrier. Avalon and her acolytes are going to be the first layer of defense. We’re going to be the second layer.”

“Of course, I’ll help in any way that I can. But remember, Vital Spark, I do still have limits. If something of sufficient power is summoned, I won’t be able to counter it, even channeling Gaia’s power. Not unless you wish for me to follow Mustafa to the other side.”

“Zecora!” Vital balked.

“It needed to be said. I will prepare what ingredients I can. Much of what is to come will rely on Grif and his young protege, however. But I know that sometimes magic can go wrong. Foci can wear out. Mana can be depleted. It will be up to us to ensure these problems are remedied.” She snatched a saddlebag from one of the tree’s many natural hooks. “Help me gather the necessary ingredients. As you said, we haven’t much time, and I will need these supplies to help support your evokers.”

Vital Spark nodded, and they proceeded to pack as many herbs and potion ingredients as they could. Lastly, Vital Spark levitated a glass jar filled with familiar blue flowers.

“Vital Spark, what are you doing with that poison joke?” Zecora asked suspiciously.

“Preparing another barrier. You know what it did to Twilight and the others. Without the antidote, many of the creatures exposed to these will be severely handicapped, especially if we word our barbs right.”

“And how is that to help us stop them from escaping?”

“It won’t. But it’ll make it a lot easier to catch them later, if any do.”

Zecora tutted, but ultimately relented.

“Got any portable totems we can take with us?”

“No. We’ll have to craft them ourselves when we reach the city.”

Vital Spark nodded. “All right, then. Do your final checks now, Zecora. I’m teleporting us straight to the ship after this.”

Zecora flung her cloak on her back and seized her staff, then turned to her adopted brother. “I am ready.”

Vital Spark nodded, charged his horn, and the two disappeared in a flash of light.





Blast and tower shield made their way onto the Gantrithor looking for Hammer Strike. A mass mobilization had started, and no one had explained anything to them yet.

Thankfully, they didn’t have to wait long, as Hammer Strike made his way to the deck, having been alerted by Circlet about their arrival. “It’s certainly been some time since I’ve seen you two. Though, at the same time, it hasn’t.”

“Sir,” they said in unison as they turned to salute.

“There’s a mass mobilization happening in Unity. Has something happened? Are we at war?” Blast asked.

“Not quite, but there is soon to be a battle. A town some distance away is currently dealing with Sombra, and whatever he has brought with him,” Hammer Strike explained. “You two will need to continue holding down New Unity while we are away.”

“Sir, if I may ask a further question?” Tower Shield spoke up.

“Yes, you may ask the obvious question.”

“What happened to you?” Tower pressed.

“Two thousand years happened.” Hammer Strike gave a small smile. “The short of it, the Alicorns had been experimenting with time-based magic, which resulted in me getting pulled some thousands of years in the past. Had several surgeries done to myself, against my will mind you, and watched the fall of their empire. Traveled the land, ended up here, started Equestria. I’ll cover more on that later.”

“O-of course, Sir,” Blast Shield said. Both brothers were equally stunned. “Do you have any standing orders at this time?”

“Protect New Unity until my return.” Hammer Strike smirked. “It shouldn’t take us too long to deal with this threat.”

“Should we be on high alert?” Tower asked.

“Not quite high alert just yet, but do keep preparations made.”

“Yes, Sir. We’ll get right on it,” Blast said as they gave a salute.

Hammer Strike gave a brief chuckle as they left. “I suppose I do come off as an anomaly again. Just when they all started to get used to me.”





Sure enough, almost exactly thirty minutes from their arrival in New Unity, Grif was back in the pilot's chair of the Gantrithor, checking the systems to take off.

“Attention, everyone,” he said as he hit the microphone. “This is Grif. We’re going to be taking off as soon as I'm done with this message. Don’t get comfortable. Prepare for immediate deployment as soon as we arrive. Flyers, be ready to ferry non-flyers to the ground the moment we start disembarking. I want a full perimeter set up in ten to fifteen minutes. You waste time, people could die. This isn’t a game. Be ready for anything.” Grif hit the switch, cutting the microphone off. Then the ship began to lift off and orient itself.

“Just how fast are we gunning it this time, Grif?” Vital Spark asked.

“Well, how fast do you think this ship would take to reach the east coast in ten point nine seconds?” Grif asked as he flicked several switches.

“I see we’re going plaid, then,” Vital said urbanely and fastened his seatbelt accordingly. “Buckle up, everyone. It’s going to be a bumpy ride.”

“Everyone who isn’t Hammer Strike locked down?” Grif asked. When he received the affirmative, he pressed the button under his left thumb. Even with the Gantrithor’s dampeners, the ship pulled an intense blast of inertia. By the time most were gathering their senses, Grif had already cut the speed. The east coast of Equestria sat beneath them, reflecting the slowly changing sky.

Grif was already unclipping himself from the seat and rising to his feet. “Hammer Strike, I leave the ship in your hooves. If I don’t come back, you take her.”

“When you come back, there will be a change. I can’t tell you what will be changed, but once everyone has departed and prepared themselves outside the Gantrithor, I will be upgrading a system on it.”

“Unfortunately, this time, I can’t guarantee that,” Grif said. “Call it paranoia, jitters, whatever. I know whatever he’s planning is bad, really bad.”

“Yes, but I won’t let you die so easily,” Hammer Strike remarked. “If you can’t find a way, I’ll figure something out.”

Grif chuckled wryly. “Okay, everybody, you know your places. We need to move. Day Moon, make sure you get some food rations and water. We’re not going to touch anything inside there if we can avoid it.”

Day Moon was already heading down the hallway toward the kitchens. He flicked a wing up to signal he’d understood the Gryphon’s words.

Pensword was looking out the window uneasily. His wing strayed toward a tomahawk engraved with his mother’s cutie mark.

“I told you it was bad,” Grif commented.

“Falls,” Pensword spoke through the lump in his throat. “Feels like the falls.”

“Given what you told me Sombra did before in the empire, I’m not surprised,” Vital said as he patted his friend’s back. “It’ll be all right. Let’s focus on mobilizing the troops. We need to do our part here, too, after all.”

Pensword nodded. “Anything that comes out of that, we’ll kill.” He turned to look at Grif. “The ground wails at the taint and loss of those that tend to her. She wails louder than the Gryphon’s slaughter.” He walked past Grif, whispering the last part. “No allies.”

“The bastard’s mine,” Grif reaffirmed. “Don’t worry about that part.”

Hammer Strike hummed to himself as he looked out to the city. “Now that I think about it, I know someone who will be useful in this regard. I’ll have to summon him.”

“The unassuming guy Rem and Ram always hung out with?” Vital asked.

“All three, yes,” Hammer Strike confirmed.

“With all due respect, Hammer Strike,” Grif said, “I’d rather not have hellish energy and whatever taint Sombra’s got inside there mixing. If it does, things could get worse.”

“That’s the thing. His speciality is combating them and containing them. The three of them would prove useful in containment to ensure nothing escapes.”

“Then wouldn’t it be better to keep them outside where they can protect the barrier?” Grif asked.

“That is what I was referring to. You’ve said how Sombra is your target, so I wouldn’t be sending them inside,” Hammer Strike clarified.

“Okay, then.” Grif nodded as he headed for the door, stopping just before it. “I literally have no idea what he’s going to bring up here. Godspeed, my friends. May we meet again,” he commented, and then left the room.

Vital whistled. “Never thought I’d hear him say something like that again after all he’s been through.” He nodded to Zecora, and the pair of them made their way toward the door. “We’re going to get to work setting up our own contributions. See you guys at the staging ground.” And then the two left for the deck.

Hammer Strike sighed as he moved to an open space. “By our contract, though you may be within Hell, the time has come. Lord, Rem, Ram, it is time for you to return to the mortal realm.”

A familiar symbol etched itself onto the floor of the Gantrithor in bright orange flames, and then with a flare, the three stood inside it. Lord looked to Hammer Strike in his usually even fashion.

“You called?”

“Well, I’m back, so I figured your vacation in Hell was about up,” Hammer Strike shrugged. “First things first. I’m sure you’ve noticed a few presences that shouldn’t exist are currently nearby.”

Lord nodded. “It seems as though someone is talking with forces they shouldn’t be.”

“Though I would normally send you out against them, a companion of mine has already taken that upon himself. So, I want you to join the forces outside and ensure nothing escapes. Though, if it is living and normal, of course, attempt to rescue them.”

“As you order. Girls, let’s go,” Lord called before he vanished instantly. Rem and Ram followed moments later, leaving Hammer Strike alone on the bridge again.

Hammer Strike hummed to himself. “Binding should be with Clover, Wall, and Swift within the units. Twenty minutes and I should be able to do that upgrade. Though I should gather Binding for it, I suppose,” he mused as he strode through the ship’s bowels.





Lochton had been a prosperous settlement in its heyday, having both admirable land and good fishing waters. It’s main export had been food. Nearly twenty thousand souls had called it home. Now the entire town was smothered beneath a thick blanket of black mist that bubbled over the settlement completely. Neither the gate nor the docks nor even the drainage had been left as a suitable exit from the city.

The military had surrounded it as best they could. Gryphons and Thestrals waited on the lands around the barrier while others stood atop quickly constructed barges with mounted ballistas at the ready.

Avalon and her students had been busy drawing runic pathways to better extend their range of control, even as Clover organized Unicorns to form structure points of a secondary barrier.

Everyone looked on with baited breath, prepared as they could be for the abominations that may be within. Many eyes were on Grif as he stood before the gate with Day Moon. The sun, now barely visible on the horizon, painted the sky a bloody red.

“You ready to hunt?” Grif asked his apprentice.

Daymoon nodded as he unsheathed his sword and laid a wing against his master’s side. “I’m ready.”

“By the four cardinal directions,” Grif began, holding up the hand he’d made the oath with. “And by the four secondary directions. By the central point and by the blood I gave, I demand, by my right, to access with my companion. Let this accord as old as my people and these words of power be the key that opens any door between me and my prey, and let me bring them swiftly to justice.” As Grif spoke, the mist writhed and shifted like a living thing, almost as though it were fighting against the words themselves. Grif kept repeating his words as it did so. A scar formed on his outstretched hand, shaped like the bite of a knife. Just when it seemed as though it wasn’t enough, a small hole big enough for two was torn into the mist, revealing the dark silhouettes of buildings in the distance.

Grif dove for the opening instantly and slid through cleanly. Then he signaled for Day Moon to follow him. The young Thestral shadowed his master’s steps and dove through the barrier just in time as the hole closed behind them, leaving the wall clean and unblemished to all who looked on.

The watchers from the other side had held their breaths collectively as Grif sought to force his way into the settlement. It had barely been enough to let him pick the lock. Now, it was their turn. All that they could do was wait. Wait, and prepare for what was yet to come.

Avalon looked to her students with a stern gaze. “All right, everyone. This isn’t the classroom any longer. It’s time to put your training into practice. Our purpose here is to ensure that nothing, and I do mean nothing, can escape from that place unless we let it. This is a matter of endurance. As such, we shall invoke the blessing of the Thunder Bird and make use of his formation. The might of the storm can only endure as long as the winds that propel it. We are that wind. And I expect you all to put in every effort you can to ensure success. Depending on your performances today, the Winds may see fit to grant you your familiars, but regardless of that outcome, you had best be focusing on the proper reasons for this spell. This is not for glory, nor for sport. This is real, and the stakes are very high, indeed.”

She nodded toward one of the Gryphon soldiers, who opened a casket to reveal a multitude of identical amulets, each bearing a cross section of iron within their cores. “These were forged using the remains of a portcullis, an ideal symbol for what we require in this barrier. Take them, and prepare your positions along the channels. I will take the first watch at the head. The rest of you will take the feathers and talons. Remember, we are not only evoking the power of a barrier, we are seeking the West Wind’s blessing. Push with all you have, and you shall earn it. And believe you me, you will need it. Now grab your foci and let’s move.”

Snowy alighted on her shoulder as she nodded and passed the implements to each of the apprentices. “And will someone bring me Clover?”

A few minutes later, the mare was trotting up to the Gryphoness. 

“How go your preparations?” the mare asked.

“They’re nearly complete. I wanted you here for the sake of a little experiment before we begin. To my knowledge, this is the first time in our peoples’ entire history that Gryphon and Unicorn magic have ever been used in concert for a united purpose. We don’t exactly have a record of what might happen, should the two mix.”

“It’s true this is a first,” Clover acknowledged. “Though the Gryphon evokers I worked with in Old Unity had figured out a few similar aspects over time. We should have the array prepared by now. If everyone is at the right spots, we’ll have the first sixty-four point array in over two thousand years.”

“And do you have formulae that assist in helping to unite these magics?”

“Nothing practical yet,” Clover admitted. “But this is the first time so many Gryphon evokers have been non-hostile.”

“Then, if you’ll indulge me, I would like to request you assist me.” Avalon extended her palm, and a small barrier made with arching golden threads formed in a tight weave as her focus glowed. “Please, cast a smaller version of the spell you intend on this dome.”

Clover aimed her focus at the dome. Above it, just wider than the dome’s circumference, a magic ring formed from white magical light. Lines etched their way across it rapidly, forming a simple eight-pointed star before the circle descended upon the dome, the star bending around it as the ring lowered until the star’s entire being was stretched over the dome. Between the intersecting lines, facets of magic formed, creating a complex gemlike barrier.

Avalon nodded. “This is a good start, but the intent of the foci I crafted for my students is to give us the option of opening the barrier at any time without having to expend extra energy. It would be fruitless to have that work for ours while your barrier still remains to bar any innocents’ retreat, assuming there are any living that Grif deems fit to send back out.”

“That's not an issue,” Clover explained as several of the facets vanished and reappeared in rapid succession. “With the array, I can create an opening between any two points instantly.”

“Then it sounds to me that we simply need the means to coordinate between whoever is the master control on shift. I believe the message spell should prove useful, provided there is a means to have me or my Gryphons initiate the contact. That way, we can alert you when someone or something is seeking to breach our walls, so we can strengthen our efforts there, or on the opposite end, arrange those openings.”

Clover summoned up a single red stone. “Here. Give this to whoever is currently in control. It will allow them to send me a message of no more than twenty-five words. I have the opposite stone, so I will receive it anywhere.”

“How many uses?”

“Should be good for months,” Clover said. “I just recharged them yesterday.”

Avalon nodded. “Then it sounds like we have a plan. We can work on integrating our magics together later. For all we know, this could open up an entirely new field of study between our peoples.” She smiled. “Once we finish beating some sense into our students, anyway.”

Clover laughed. “That’s a task that never ends. As experience comes, you’ll see it. They think magic is all flash. They’ll take shortcuts, try things they shouldn’t. A good number of them will be maimed. Some of them may die. Be hard on them. You may save them down the line,” she offered, then nodded. “We can proceed when you are ready.”

“I’ll message you, once I’m in position. Make sure to remind your Unicorns to be careful where they step. Vital Spark and Zecora are planning on using some more natural defenses, from what I’ve heard, before they bring in their invisible friends. We don’t need any of our students breaking out in blue spots.”

“And you remember to rest.” Clover smiled. “Last thing you need right now is to go too far. Best of luck to you, Avalon. Let's make your husband proud.” And with those words, she vanished.

Avalon nodded and took to the sky, then alighted on her place in the Gryphons’ spell formation. “All right, acolytes!” she shouted as her focus flared brightly and magic began to channel through their formation with golden streaks to give their thunderbird life. “Let’s make Grif proud!”





Hammer Strike sighed as he made his way to the Gantrithor’s core, Binding following along to observe. Hammer Strike had a plan that he wanted to run by Circlet before doing it, but he was certain she would accept.

Opening the door, he frowned as he looked to the core within. “Circlet, it’s time for our discussion.”

Circlet’s ghostly form rose from the floor, looking at Hammer Strike and then the core nervously. “I am here.”

“I can see that, yes.” Hammer Strike gave a soft smile. “There are a few things I would like to bring up to you, but for now, I’m sure you have questions you’d like answered first.”

“Where did you get it?” Circlet asked.

“A long time ago, a lich took over a town outside of my reach. I had sent an aide of mine to deal with said issue before anything major could happen. However, I didn’t send him in time. The lich, Grogar, managed to take almost the entirety of the town and bind their souls within this orb.” Hammer Strike sighed. “It’s incredibly difficult to destroy these, so I’ve had to hold onto it for containment.”

“And there is no way to free those trapped within, anyway,” Circlet said. “Much like my own soul, if the stone is destroyed, they well simply cease to be.”

“Indeed.”

“Are—” a surprising bit of emotion poked through Circlet's voice as she spoke. “Are they aware?”

Hammer Strike’s eyes dimmed momentarily before resuming their natural state. “No. It was the only peace I could grant them.”

“What are your plans? You can’t release that to anyone else. Faust knows what they’d do with that kind of power.”

“I’m going to give you one question, Circlet.” He looked directly at her. “Do you trust me?”

“You and Grif have never lied to me. Despite knowing what lies in the core, you’ve never abused it. I see no reason not to trust you.”

“I can give you the freedom to step away from this ship while maintaining perfect control over it,” Hammer Strike noted. “I can give you a freedom you haven’t held in countless years, but you have to have complete trust in my actions.”

“You need to access my stone,” Circlet said. It wasn’t a question, just a clarification.

“I have to control your stone, Circlet. Temporarily, but control it, nonetheless.”

“You're asking me to put my soul into your control.”

“Yes.”

She was quiet for a long time as she considered his words. There were no clocks within the core room, so only Hammer Strike was aware of the exact amount of time she took, but it was a while later when she turned to the bloodstone core. “Core access alpha alpha beta alpha genesis epsilon,” she stated, being careful to pronounce each syllable slowly and clearly. “I trust you, Hammer Strike. ...Take care of my soul.” And then her form fizzled out as the blood stone core exploded with life. The numerous plates of bloodstone forming the orb detached and orbited rapidly as more and more plates flew off. Soon Hammer Strike watched as more layers were removed than he’d ever seen happen. Finally, the last plates floated away and the numerous bloodstones orbited a small red stone suspended in a massive ring.

Hammer Strike exhaled before connecting himself to the ship’s intercoms. “To those outside, have no fear in the upcoming actions. I am creating a temporary dock for the Gantrithor,” He called out. After a few moments, thaumic energy coalesced around his body as the earth shifted beneath the airship. Pillars erupted from the ground and shaped themselves against the ship’s hull, ensuring utmost security before he took his next action.

Once everything was secure, he took a breath. “Binding, ensure that door stays locked.”

Binding nodded and turned to face the entry. “You can count on me.”

Hammer Strike nodded as he moved toward the core and began his careful procedure. Once the stone was removed, the ship fell into it’s emergency power stage before quickly shutting down. The plates of bloodstone dropped as their source of power was removed. He focused on the stone with his thaumaturgy and managed to split it, thankfully keeping Circlet intact. Reaching into his coat, he pulled out a cloth-bound ball and removed it’s coating, revealing the stone within. Splitting it was a far more difficult task, since it contained many more souls than Circlet’s, but it was managed, just the same.

Taking one half of Circlet, he surrounded the shard and formed a new stone, one with the outermost layer being Circlet’s. Then he replicated the process for the second half, so that he held two stones once again. He looked to the Golem that had been used on the Gantrithor for a number of months. It would be temporary, but manageable for the time being. Opening the torso of the golem, he placed the second stone within and sealed it tightly, ensuring nothing could breach it.

Taking one more breath, he moved toward the core of the Gantrithor once more and placed the other stone within. The plates hummed to life and returned to their position. Mechanisms of the ship roared to life once more as each system received the power they needed. Taking a few steps back, he watched as the core’s safety plates gradually resumed their original position to protect their precious cargo.

Then he looked back to Circlet’s Golem and exhaled in relief. “It’s done.” He gave a brief smile.

The golem’s eyes lit up with blinding orange light as it came to life. Waves of white power seemed to glide across the body. And slowly, it began to alter. The genderless form it had started out with shrank slightly, gaining the thinner features of a mare, even as white fur-like growth covered the hide. The somewhat featureless face altered, gaining a defined muzzle and bone structure. The eyes became larger and rounder while maintaining a mostly artificial semblance. From the forehead, a spiraling ivory horn sprouted. Long straight hair formed a mane and tail. The glow of the eyes dimmed as the strangely alive yet clearly unnatural mare blinked at them.

“I feel strange,” she said. Her words sounded a bit clumsy at first.

“I suspected as much, given you were the equivalent of a machine up until just now,” Hammer Strike replied simply. “It’s certainly not pleasant.”

“I’m not alive,” she said, looking at a hoof. “But I feel alive. It reminds me of before I became the stone.”

“Pseudo life.” Hammer Strike nodded. “Before we can discuss things further, I need to press that trust of yours once more.”

“You’ve held my soul in your hands. I think I can trust you further.”

“By my authority as Thaumaturge, I issue this verbal contract,” Hammer Strike began once more. “I’m sorry, but I can’t risk you being swayed. Should you accept, your soul will be owned by me. This does not mean your actions are going to be mine to order. You will maintain your freedom as you are now. This will ensure that no being can warp your mind or stone against any of us in any possible way.” 

“I accept,” she said. “Only, I cannot give you the ship, just myself.”

“That’s all that matters.” Hammer Strike gave a soft smile. “Then by this contract, your soul is bound to me,” he finished. His hoof flared with thaumic power as the aura surrounded Circlet. Then, as in all his previous bindings, it cleared.

Circlet moved forward and hugged the Earth Pony. “Thank you,” she said.

“You’ve spent so long assisting us. This was the least I could give.” Hammer Strike gave a small smile as he returned the embrace. “I’m sure you still have many questions.”

“I certainly have one,” Binding said casually from his place at the door. “Is it safe for me to turn around now?”

“You’re clear.”

Binding turned and whistled. “That’s some potent alchemy, all right,” he noted, then smiled. “Welcome to our little club, Miss Circlet.”

“Thank you, Binding Contract.” She let Hammer Strike go. “I hope our interactions will be beneficial ones.”

Binding smiled. “I’ve a feeling they definitely will be.”

“Now then, Hammer Strike, how did you get super administrator access?” she asked.

“By technicality, I am the … owner, I suppose you could call it, of the Crystal Empire.” Hammer Strike frowned. “Binding, would you mind alerting Clover to the situation? I have a feeling she noticed what happened, and it would be best to let her know. Grif as well, if he has made a temporary return.”

Binding nodded. “Certainly.” And then he was gone in a puff of magic.

“What about the progress inhibiting technological dampener?” she asked. “I can feel its presence, though I no longer feel its effects.”

“We … won’t be messing with that for a time. I have to slowly deactivate it, and that’ll take time to accomplish safely.”

“Understandable. The Equestrian balance of power is delicate, and technological jumping could be disastrous.”

“And it doesn’t just affect us,” Hammer Strike clarified. “The rest of the world would follow suit.”

“So what happens now?”

“For now, we deal with this threat. Afterwards, I want you to do something you’ve never done. I want you to finally take a nice long walk around New Unity.”

“I think I would like that.” She nodded.

“Good. Now, I have a question for you. When it comes to the crystal relay system, how attached is it to the Crystal Empire?”

“Currently, all relays are embedded, but they’re made to be removed or duplicated, should the empire need to alter or expand beyond foreseen parameters.”

“Now that is something I could definitely use. Though I wonder if my blueprints are still on the database…”

“If your access was never revoked, then I don’t see why they’d be erased,” she noted.

Hammer Strike hummed. “Do you think Equis is ready for a railgun?”

“A what?”





Grif and Day Moon stood on a cobblestone path looking over a landscape cloaked in a black mist. Stone buildings surrounded them, standing tall. They’d probably seemed regal in the past, but the dark influence had bent and twisted them to odd angles and made them seem almost menacing. A bent clock tower stood in the distance, seeming to glare down on them. The air was damp and musty, the smell of mildew and decay so powerful that even Grif nearly gagged at the scent. Oil street lamps were the only light source, and they bathed the area in odd uncomfortable tones.

Grif drew his katana. He’d used a small amount of his precious time to rework the hilt, which was now wrapped in simple black cloth and white rayskin. The guard had been altered. Hammer Strike had given it to him during the setup. It was a simple rounded tsuba, but the imagery was of a sword with wings spread wide. Hammerstrike had claimed it would imbue the weapon with the ability to kill the undead and other creatures. “Eyes up, Day Moon. The hunt begins.”

The young Thestral was already scanning the area. His ears twitched and flicked as his glowing eyes pierced the veil of night. He sniffed the air and held back the urge to spit. “The stones reek of blood.”

“Prepare to fight, unless the creature actually tries to speak,” Grif instructed. “I think we won’t find much of anything worth saving.”

“But we could find information?”

“Many of the creatures we are probably going to run into could kill either of us without a lot of effort. If they aren't talking, better to kill them.”

Day Moon nodded. “Yes, Sir. Do you feel anything yet? You said your oath connected you to Sombra. Is it pulling you anywhere?”

“Unfortunately, there is alot of evil around us, Day Moon.” Grif sighed as they began treading down the path. “I know he’s in here, but finding him will take time.”

Day Moon nodded. “Sometimes the best hunt is a slow hunt, right?”

“Slow, but fast-paced.” Grif grinned. “Of course, we can’t become separated for any reason or we’re dead.”

Day Moon couldn’t help grinning. “My heart’s pounding, but I can’t stop smiling.”

“Your heart’s pounding, huh? Can you hear the ringing in your ears, too?” Grif asked.

Day Moon blushed. “I do almost every time I hunt, really.”

“Yes, but how often have you been allowed to hunt something that can kill you?” grif asked. “Your people make the young ones hunt rabbits and small game, don’t they?”

“Until they’re experienced enough to go after the bigger game, yes.” Day Moon nodded as they rounded a corner and stood next to a far smaller lamp post that wasn’t lit. He frowned. “That’s different,” he noted as he pointed at the structure that looked more like a sapling than a proper lamp. “And we’re supposed to be wary of different, right?”

“Yes.” Grif nodded. His grip tightened as one hand reached for a crossbow. “Let’s see what your tracking lessons have taught you. See what you can figure out.”

Day Moon crept carefully toward the lamp and sniffed closely. “There are different scents here. Some are bloody. Others are cleaner. There’s incense and perfume for some. And under it all, I can smell….” He took a deep breath, then nodded. “Fear. Someone or multiple someones fled this way or congregated here, then ran. Why, I’m not sure. It could have been because of corruption. Or maybe one of them was already a monster hiding among them.” He shook his head. “It’s too early to say.”

“Good job.” Grif nodded. “What direction did they run from?”

“I can’t tell for sure. I … I think one of them died here, though.” He pointed at the base of the lantern. “It … it looks almost like it’s feeding on the blood to grow.”

“Vampires, then,” Grif said. He handed Day Moon three flasks. “Drink one now, and one next time we rest. It won’t taste good. It’s silver extract mixed with garlic.”

Day Moon nodded and threw back the concoction. His mouth curled in distaste, but he forced himself to swallow every drop, rather than allow the opportunity for the tincture to go to waste.

“Hopefully, that will reach your bloodstream before we encounter any.”

“I’m more concerned about this mist. It doesn’t feel right, Grif.” Day Moon shook his head.

“You wearing your amulet?” Grif asked.

Day Moon nodded.

“That's not a good sign.” Grif sighed. He drew a knife and pricked his finger before setting it on the ground and spinning it. It spun for several seconds before stopping pointing in a westernly direction. “We’ll go that way.”

Day Moon nodded and they strode forward with an abundance of caution. 

Several blocks later, they found themselves stumbling into a sight. At first glance, the creatures looked like a pack of dogs, though their fur had been stripped off in places. They were skeletally thin, and yet their mouths were filled with large curved teeth.

“Are they undead?” Day Moon whispered as he prepared his sword.

“I think so.” Grif nodded, holding his katana at the ready. “Don’t run,” he warned.

“I won’t.”

“How many do you hear?” Grif asked.

“Five ahead. Three more around a corner. And….” He swallowed to hold back the bile. “I think I just heard one more being born.”

“None behind us or to the sides?” Grif confirmed.

“Not yet. But I don’t trust this place. We should be ready to fly, if we need to, to take the high ground.”

“Get your crossbow ready,” Grif instructed. “They’ll come for you when they realize I’m not an easy target.”

“And they’ll see they won’t have any more luck with me,” Day Moon said grimly as he locked in a bolt.

Grif charged, not giving the canines time to coordinate as he closed the distance in a few breaths. He decapitated one beast and ran the second through with a thrust. As expected, two more turned to bare their teeth at him as the one remaining and three more appearing from around the corner barreled toward Day Moon. The two corpses they had been feasting on melted into piles of black and red ooze.

As Day Moon’s first shot pierced the skull of the lead creature, Grif slashed with his katana, eviscerating another beast, which fell to the ground whining as it slowly died. The second attempted to pin him from behind, only to receive a flask of glowing white fluid to the face. The creature hissed in pain as its body began to writhe from the liquid. The remaining two were almost to Day Moon as the colt managed a second shot, catching one through the throat. The last one charged ahead and had already pounced before Day Moon drew his sword. Time slowled around Grif as he lined up the shot and fired his crossbow. The bolt struck the back of the beast's skull just as Day Moon ducked out of the way. Grif stood there huffing as he examined the carnage.

“We should take what supplies we can and keep moving,” Day Moon said. “I doubt we weren’t heard. I’ll see if I can’t find a place to get more information. Someone’s bound to know something, if we can just talk with somepony.”

“You think these had anything to loot?” Grif chuckled. “Retrieving our bolts, if we’re lucky, seems like our best chance.”

“That’s what I meant, Grif.” Day Moon strode to the corpses and fished out what bolts were still intact. “By the way, what was in that bottle you threw? It didn’t look like holy water.”

“It’s purity. I can’t explain much more than that. It’s essentially purity broken to its most basic state given form.”

“How many of those do you have in stock?”

“Seven vials. I’d need a source of purity to refill them, which I’m not likely to find much of here.”

“Then we’ll have to choose the best times to use them.” Day Moon nodded. “I’m ready to go when you are.” He sighed as he looked over the towering roofs and leaning windows. “I get the feeling we’re going to be doing a lot of running in circles before we find our quarry.”

“Yes.” Grif nodded. “This is his chessboard.”

“Then we’d best be prepared for his move. Do you want to take the streets or the rooftops?”

Grif sighed. “Rooftops would be wiser.”

“Then rooftops it is.”





Hammer Strike stood atop the Gantrithor, watching over all the work that went into containing the waves of dark energy that seeped from the dome. Everyone had a role to fulfill, and while there were things he could do, he decided to let Grif take charge as requested.

This in turn, however, resulted in him having the only task of overview. He was watching over the mages to make sure everything went according to plan while ensuring the other hunters kept watch over all sides of the dome. Overall, the plan was running smoothly, and with Lord, Rem, and Ram assisting, even if something did escape, they’d be prepared.

He hummed to himself as he looked over the dome once more. Every time he blinked, it would shift to some different form until it suddenly stopped.

It took him a second to register the fact that the temperature had dropped and it was more than just the dome that had stopped.

“I see you’ve returned,” he heard a voice from his side.

Hammer Strike gave a brief chuckle. “It’s been a while, Outsider.”

“It has.” The Outsider gave a small smirk as he took a seat next to Hammer Strike. “It was interesting to see your trips through time. Though it was most certainly more than just time you traveled through. But that isn’t the main concern at the moment. Someone has decided to make a contract.”

“Sombra, yes.” Hammer Strike sighed. “He’s going to extremes.”

“He’s calling forth all kinds of beings, most of which shouldn’t exist within this world,” Outsider remarked. “They’re working outside the bounds of a previous contract, which is undesirable. On all accounts.”

“But, based off the way you’re phrasing it, means it’s still within the limits?”

“Correct.” 

“Grif’s going to have an interesting time, then, to say the least.” Hammer Strike sighed. “Though it’s against what he may want, I may have to take more drastic measures.”

“I’m certain he’ll figure it out.” Outsider looked to the dome once again. “He appears capable enough.”

“And you expect capability to be enough?”

“Not in the slightest, but he’ll manage, one way or another.”

Hammer Strike rolled his eyes. “I’ll assume you know something I don’t and leave it there.”

“Of course. Even if I could tell you everything, you wouldn’t listen to half of it, anyway. Has my gift been assisting you well?”

“The sight thing is quite useful at times, though I admittedly don’t use the whole … displacement thing that often.”

“That’s fine. Though sooner or later, you’re going to have to start using the rest of it.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Hammer Strike turned his attention to Outsider, only to find an empty space. “Oh, come on, don’t you start that.”

All Hammer Strike got in return was a disembodied, “Good luck.”





“Okay, it seems things were a little worse than expected.” Grif panted as they rested in the crawlspace of an attic in one of the stone houses. As it turned out, the roof was not the safer choice. Mutated bats had harried the two from the beginning. And while they were easy to kill, their massive numbers had made the last hour difficult. They had managed to avoid serious injuries, but both were covered in shallow cuts and scrapes.

“Those … were not fruit bats,” Day Moon panted as he laid on his back and splayed his hooves on the floor.

“Vampire bats.” Grif nodded. “Probably augmented by real vampirism. Normally, bats aren't so aggressive, even in large groups.”

“Well, at least we managed to kill them.”

“You doing okay?” Grif asked as he cleaned his blade and checked the edge.

“Honestly? This is a lot harder than I thought it was going to be. I think I’ll be okay. I just … need a couple of minutes.”

“We should be safe here. You should take a rest. I'll see if there’s anything we can use, okay?” Grif asked.

Day Moon nodded and rose to his hooves, then pulled out his sword. “I’ll keep watch.”

Grif found the trap door leading down and stalked through the house carefully with a hand on his sword as he checked the rooms of the upper floor. He was just finishing a sweep of what would have been the master bedroom when something crashed on the floor below. Swearing under his breath, Grif stalked downstairs as quietly and quickly as he could. What he found in the large landing made him pause.

A large bookshelf had been knocked over recently. Books and paper lay about the room in a mess. Several broken vases indicated they’d fallen in the commotion. As Grif scanned the room, finding no scents he could pick up, a small white crystal device with a red face floated form the book case. It had a small gold clip at the top of one of many protrusions and a large glowing blue eye.

Before Grif could say anything, a hoof quickly reached up and pulled the device down, “Hey-hey. Down, down, down…” He heard a voice call out softly before a cloaked figure peered above the bookshelf.

Grif had a loaded crossbow out and pointed toward the figure. “Who are you?”

“Hey, I should be the one asking that question,” the stallion remarked. “Then again, from what I’ve been hearing, you’re at least not on their side.”

“I have a meeting with the person who did all this. It’s going to be a short one.”

“Feel like I’ve heard that somewhere before,” the stallion muttered. “Yeah, well, if you’re after the walking aftermath of a fire, I haven’t got a clue. Kinda hard to track when he can just, you know, phase through walls.”

“Big spell like this, I imagine he’d have to keep close to the center,” Grif noted. “But we’re off topic here. Who are you? Don’t make me ask again.”

“Or you’ll shoot me with a sharpened metal rod?” he questioned. “While that may work on the whole piercing of my ‘hide,’ it won’t work out how you expect. The name’s Cayde.”

“Grif,” Grif offered. “And I wouldn’t shoot you.” His aim tilted so slightly. “I’d shoot that thing.”

“Hey, hey!” The stallion pulled the crystal device close and behind him. “You keep Failsafe out of this.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realise I was supposed to trust a random stranger in a barrier full of monsters,” Grif said sarcastically, then sighed as he lowered the crossbow. “Look. If you're not going to fight, head for the barrier. Try and find a way out. There is an army outside. Ask to see Lord Hammer Strike. He’ll get you sorted out.”

“Yeah, no can do. Kinda goes against my ord—I’m sorry, did you say Hammer Strike?”

“Yes, Lord Hammer Strike.”

“Is it the real him? Not the whole smaller, less scarred version of him?”

“He just came back from a trip through time. He’s grown up since then.” Grif chuckled.

“So, you work for him, then.”

“I’ve given him my oath. We both don’t want any more innocents hurt in this mess than necessary. I just have a personal debt with smokey.”

The stallion sighed. “Took him long enough. I’ve been sitting on these same orders for ages now.” After a minute, he stood up from behind his cover, giving a small twirl to a revolver in his grip before sheathing it.

“Always keep your hand hidden?” Grif chuckled as he sheathed several throwing blades. Then he did a double take. “Wait a second. Is that revolver?”

“Correction. That is a magitech revolver. One of a kind.”

“Derflinger,” Grif growled. “So, what will you do? Me and my companion have to keep going until this is over.”

“I’ll be doing what I have been this whole time. Shooting them until they’re dead. Especially since the bossman is back. Can’t let him think I’m slacking.” Cayde shifted his cloak to reveal his mechanical eyes.

“Not a good idea, generally.” Grif nodded. “Want to tell me what happened here?” He gestured to the bookcase.

“Well, when you get creatures that can shoot stuff back….” He left the comment hanging. “The difference between the two of us is my gun can shoot through a bookshelf.”

Grif drew a throwing blade, aimed at a wall, and tossed it. The blade vanished through it. When cayde checked the room, he found a hole in the opposite wall. When he checked that room, he found the blade buried into a stone block of a fireplace.

“Showoff,” Cayde remarked. “Take it easy, will you? You’re gonna make me look bad.”

“Get good.” Grif chuckled. “Anyway, have you cleared this floor? I found nothing to worry about upstairs, and my companion in the attic could use a rest. The roof was definitely a bad idea.”

“Yeah, should be fine. Though I do need to clear the first floor next.”

“Cleared it before this happened.” Grif smirked. “Is there anything you need from us?”

“Got any spare X-52 mag-blocks?”

“Uh … no?”

“Then you’ve got your answer. A shame, too. I could really use some spare rechargeable mags.”

“Well, at least you don’t have blood or brains to worry about,” Grif noted.

“Blood, wrong. Brains? I’ll be insulted later.”

“Well, I’m going to get my companion, then see if this place has anything useful. You’re welcome to stay or go,” Grif said as he turned to leave.

“Yeah, you’re out of luck if there was nothing on the first floor,” Cayde replied.

“Of course. Why would the man-eating monsters not take everything useful?” Grif chuckled. “Maybe I'll punch one of these walls, see if a turkey comes out.”

“Sadly, most wall-turkeys expired at least two months ago.” Cayde shook his head. “At most, seven thousand years ago.”

Grif wasn’t sure how to respond to that, so he just quietly left the room.

Cayde hummed to himself. “I don’t think he got the reference.”





Pensword stood on a makeshift elevated platform they’d formed out of an overturned apple wagon. He kept a constant watch over the barrier while Thestrals moved back and forth to prepare for the inevitable.There was no chance of the enemy striking from behind, but the one that lay ahead was perhaps among the most dangerous they had yet to face.

As a result of this fact, Pensword had also made sure that they maintained visuals on each other at all times. It would be impossible for anything to try to take out any Thestrals without another two witnessing. As an added precaution, each patrol carried a set of flares to fire in case of emergency.

He was not moving, because the mist wall was trying to draw him in. The calls of the trapped souls screamed for release and mercy, begged anyone to hear them to help them, free them, end them before Sombra’s cursed arts could corrupt them and pervert their purpose in the peace of the glens beyond the veil.

And then, quite suddenly, the moaning rose to a keening. Shrieks of fear rang through the commander’s ears. The wall writhed and roiled like boiling water. A cold trembling struck him, as though Death himself were about to pass through that portal to pass judgement on them all.

“Messenger.” A thestral appeared next to him. As an added precaution, none were using their names, in case these creatures may have some means of incorporating them into spells of domination or worse.

“What do you need, Glasses?”

“Tell the Thestrals that any monsters that get through, even if they look like normal Ponies, must be dispatched. They are forced to remain here and cannot move on. Killing them will be a blessing.”

A loud howling shriek filled the air as the impending doom finally made itself known. In the small space between the dome and Avalon’s barrier, a figure emerged. The first part to emerge resembled the front of a fully grown horse that had been skinned. But as it pressed forward, more was revealed. The entire body of a horse without so much as a patch of fur or skin stood before them. Merged to the center of it’s back was a humanoid torso with a head and glowing red eyes. Impossibly long arms hung mere inches above the ground and were topped with sharp curved black claws. The creature began to attack the barrier. Large clawed hands battered at the Gryphons’ layer rapidly and without mercy, raining powerful blows upon it.

Pensword’s first action was to let loose a flare to announce trouble. He was confused as he blinked. “Messenger, that is not a soul from the town. The other spirits are afraid of it. My best guess is that’s some form of demon. Get the Gryphons now!” He racked his brains for a strategy. This was a creature he had never heard of before, and an unknown enemy was a dangerous enemy.

The constant rain of blows continued, so powerful that Pensword could feel the ground tremble with every strike. Already, he could see hairline cracks beginning to form on the first layer. He frowned as Thestrals gathered up around the wagon. Messenger was already halfway to the Gryphon command post. “Thestrals, ready the iron arrows and loose!”

The first volley peppered the creature liberally. The tips hissed and burned on contact, even as they pierced the beast’s flesh. The demon threw its head back and shrieked, a sound so terrible that Pensword could feel his soul shiver. A few of the Thestrals faltered as fear washed over their faces.

Pensword choked out the next words. “Next volley! Loose!” As he spoke, he found strength again. “The cries strike fear into us. Think of your loved ones. Think of home and hearth. Fire not for us, but for those we stand to protect!”

The second volley was shaky as the Thestrals fired. However, the beast clearly slowed as more arrows peppered it. The third volley brought it crashing to its front knees with low groans as smoke rose from it’s form from the numerous cold iron arrows that penetrated it. The final shot pierced its heart, and the beast felt. As they watched, it’s body crumbled to ashes before them, leaving only a pile of arrows inside the barrier.

Pensword looked at his men. “Good job!” Gryphons were already flying towards them as they saw the monsters crumble to ash. “Right, we are not going to collect those arrows, but those that need to should go restock, then get back on patrol.” He looked to the sky. “Take torches with you. Keep them unlit unless they are needed.”

As the Gryphons settled down, their leader approached Pensword. “What happened?” he asked.

“Demon attack, a horse with a humanoid in the middle of the back with arms almost reaching the ground. All flesh looked like it had been removed, and cold iron ultimately dispatched it.”

A smaller Gryphon, a bluejay with a housecat’s body, approached looking through a book. “The records we have from prior to the Discordian era speak of such a creature,” he said as he leafed through the tome. He stopped at a page with a very familiar sketch and showed it to Pensword.

“That’s the beast.” Pensword nodded as he eyed the unfamiliar characters that surrounded the image.

“The nuckelavee,” the Gryphon explained. “A powerful water demon of the ancient past. The last recorded one was killed thirty six hundred years ago,” he explained. “How did you kill it?”

“Four volleys of cold iron arrows.” Pensword answered.

The scholar nodded as he took out an empty book and began taking notes. “Unseelie, then. This will be useful in the future. If our scouts are correct, it’s likely several beasts got out before we arrived.

“That worries me,” Pensword said softly.

“I’ll add it to the list.” the Gryphon promised. “Thank goodness the emperor values these texts. Who knows how another emperor would have treated our knowledge?”

“Knowledge is power,” Pensword agreed gravely. Let us hope that power may be of use to us now.”





“You know, when we started this, vampires were one of the things I was most worried about,” Grif said as he traded blows with the Pony in question. “Now, honestly, I think I prefer this to some of the stuff we’ve had to fight.”

Day Moon huffed as Shadowsbane clashed with his vampire’s weapons. It cackled and licked the tip of one of the many knives that hovered in the air. They reflected the glowing light in its eyes as the laughter carried and the dance began again. The colt had already been cut a couple of times, and blood clotted along his cheek, dyeing it partially crimson. “For power, yes,” he agreed. “Their speed is still annoying, though.” He growled in frustration as his sword clashed against the creature’s blades again. Finally, he managed to land a solid hit to his enemy’s hoof and severed it at the fetlock. The knives clattered to the ground as the vampire hissed in pain. The creature’s coat lost its sheen, and its face became wan as it nursed the wound. Day Moon smirked and entered a defensive stance. “Come at me.”

With the draining power granted by his sword stroke, it was far easier for Day Moon to match his foe. The creature was easily parried and swiftly dispatched. Its head flew through the air for a time before it disintegrated into ash and billowed on the wind toward the roiling black dome overhead.

Grif smiled as he caught his opponent's wrist with his sword arm before shoving a sharpened ash stake through its heart. He backed away as the creature's body began to turn to ash. “Good job,” he complimented. “That wouldn’t be an easy kill for a full-grown stallion, and you handled it well.”

Day Moon nodded. “Thanks.”

“Clean your sword,” Grif said. “Then we’ll move on.”

The colt pulled out a white cloth and slid it gently over his sword’s edge. The blood that came off the blade looked black and ichorous, not unlike tar. He nodded as he replaced the cloth in his pack.

“You doing okay?” Grif asked. “Looks like a nasty cut there.”

Day Moon shook his head. “I’ll be okay.” He reached into a separate pouch and pulled out a cloth to wipe the excess away from his cheek. “You said this would happen, right?” His hoof shook slightly as he returned the cloth to its pouch.

“You don’t have to play tough.” Grif knelt down to the colt’s level and laid a hand on his shoulder. “This is a lot more than someone like you should ever be asked to do. This isn’t easy. It’s hard enough for me, and I’ve been doing this a lot longer than you.”

“If I don’t play tough, I’ll cry, Grif,” Day Moon said softly. The tremors spread through his body, as if encouraged by the contact. “We can’t afford that right now.”

“War and battle is rough. Your people and mine tend to forget that. More so for those that hunt these kinds of monsters. Tears are just as much part of the experience as anything else.”

“Then … it’s okay to cry?” His voice cracked from his throat choking up.

“Many will tell you that real men and stallions don’t cry. And those people are wrong,” Grif said sincerely. “If we can’t express our emotions, then what are we fighting for?”

Day Moon sniffled as the streaks coursed down his cheeks. A few stray tatters remained on the cobblestones, the last evidence of the creatures they had just destroyed. “For them,” he whispered. “And for everyone outside.”

“That's great, poetic even. They’ll write great poems about your heroic fall,” Grif told him. “But it all starts here.” He poked a talon at the center of the colt's chest. “Fight for your heart. Fight for your right to peace, no matter what form it comes in. That's rule number one, okay?”

Day Moon’s lips pulled up into a weak smile. “I thought rule number one was never to underestimate your opponent.”

“There're a lot of rule number ones.” Grif chuckled. “I learn a new one every day.”

An involuntary snort escaped the colt. “Must cost a lot of bits for a family reunion.”

“Probably.” Grif smiled as he rose to his paws again.. “Listen, if you need to slow down and take a moment to handle things, don’t be afraid to ask, okay? We’re in this together.”

“But won’t that give Sombra time to get ready for us?”

“Maybe, but it won’t matter if we’re not ready for him. Besides, that's going to be something for you to consider all on it’s own. Up till now, we’ve only been killing mindless monsters. Sombra’s a non-corrupted living being who chose this pact. You need to be ready for what that means.”

“In other words, be ready for strategy, instead of blunt instinct?”

“Be ready to kill a person,” Grif corrected. “It’s not nearly so easy.”





Hammer Strike hummed to himself as he examined everyone at work. He was walking through the makeshift camp that had been established outside of the Gantrithor, giving assistance whenever the opportunity arose.

Clover stood by the barrier, her horn and her focus glowing brightly as she fed magic into the Unicorn array to keep it going. To most, she likely appeared still strong and alert, but Hammer Strike could see the fatigue behind her eyes as she worked to feed the spell.

“I have to commend you on managing a spell like this with the wrong focus,” Hammer Strike remarked as he drew near.

“That staff is meant for taking down armies, not maintaining a fence,” Clover retorted as she worked. “This is nothing. I could keep this up for days.”

“Fair enough, I suppose.” Hammer Strike chuckled. “Though, I get the feeling there’s something holding you back.” He gave her a knowing look.

“Whatever could that mean, my lord?” she asked wryly as she worked. “Not all of us are gifted to be as ever youthful.”

“Oh, hush. Or I’ll take the cream and let you use the medical cube.” He  chuckled again. “Is the spell automated, and you’re simply feeding it?”

“As long as my apprentices keep the beacon points, all it needs is power to keep going. I think the Gryphons’ barrier is feeding from the excess.”

“Then go and ‘freshen up’ or whatever you wish to call it. I can feed it power while you’re away.”

“Always have to show off, don’t you?” she asked before letting out a sigh. “Let me know when you have it.”

Hammer Strike connected his thaumic field to the spell. “You’re clear.”

Clover nodded as she let go of her own feed. She nodded to him again in acknowledgement before turning and walking off. Twenty minutes later, the mare returned. Her once washed-out colors were now much more vibrant. The bags under her eyes were gone, and she looked much more ready to go with the face Hammer Strike remembered when he answered the door all those years ago. She’d swapped out her usual brown cloak with the dark blue one she’d worn around the palace. The symbol of Hammer Strike’s house insignia was carefully embroidered on it. She leveled her now bright eyes at him. “Happy?” she asked.

“Gee, I don’t know. Are you?” Hammer Strike chuckled.

Clover rolled her eyes as she summoned her focus again. This time, her horn lit brightly, and her mana merged into the barrier without issue. Still, Hammer Strike didn’t fail to miss the small smile on her face, nor the flick of her tail on his side.

“Exactly.” Hammer Strike released his hold on the barrier. “I do hope you’re prepared for the absolute load of questions that will come your way.”

“Unicorns have made themselves appear youthful for thousands of years. This will be no different.”

“Yes, but I’m sure you’ve noticed that spell has fallen out of use,” Hammer Strike remarked. “That, and most forms of magic detection will note a change in the flow of power around you. Though, that was already the case since my return.”

“I’ll have some questions for you when this is over, too,” she noted. “I’m pretty sure there is a lot that happened while I was petrified.”

“Only a few major events. One of the major ones being the banishment of Star Swirl.”

“You actually banished him? What did he do this time?”

Hammer Strike sighed. “Nearly unpetrified you. Considering the situation, yes, I could have cured you, but I get the feeling he would have tried to do it behind my back had I not removed him.”

“That sounds like him.” She sighed. “Now, if I can just find out where the old bat disappeared to, I can put it to rest.”

“Last I heard his name was in the Crystal Empire, which was sometime after I left to return here.” Hammer Strike stopped and hummed to himself. “Now that I think about it, I interacted with him at some point in my past, and he didn’t appear to recognize me. Though my name was the same, my appearance was drastically different, so he probably thought of me as someone given the name, especially since it was a number of years after my departure.”

“All historical records say he vanished sometime after that,” Clover noted. “Apparently, he decided to take it upon himself to teach Celestia and Luna after the Discordian era.”

“Took advantage of their confusion is more like it.” Hammer Strike frowned. “Now that I think about it, I have an important question for you.”

“Yes?”

“Do you remember Yharon?”

“Yharon? Of course I remember Yharon. That’s like asking me if I remember Starlight Bulwark.”

“While I would normally agree,” Hammer Strike sighed. “Nobody else does besides Binding, Wall, Swift, and us. Celestia and Luna only remember us in the household.”

“That's weird,” Clover said. “I’ll have to see. Hopefully, those memories are just blocked.”

“I hope so, too. But I find it so strange. While there are plenty of things that have happened, the only real incident that I know of that could have done it would have been Discord. But, thankfully, even he has limits on what he would do.”

“And Yharon was an exceptionally powerful mage,” Clover noted. “Seems like he’d have warded them against it.”

Hammer Strike frowned. “We’ll figure it out when this situation has been settled.”

“Yes. For now, I need to hold this up, and you should probably get back to the ship before whatever’s inside this notices you.”

“Thankfully, I have a friend who’s been assisting me in that regard, though he’s cryptic about it all.” Hammer Strike gave a brief smirk. “But, I suppose I should go all the same.”

“See you later.”





Grif had one of his crossbows out and ready as they entered the area. The last two hours had been too quiet for his taste, and he was certain they were going to be running into something big. “Anything on your end?” he asked the young Thestral as he scanned their surroundings and the path ahead.

Day Moon shook his head. “Quiet as a grave.”

“That's what worries me. It feels like something’s hunting, and I don’t know if it’s them or us.”

“Considering you still have a pulse, I’m going to go with them,” A voice called out from the shadows. The body jutted half-way out from a nearby wall. A vivid red trench coat covered most of his torso and back while his lush black mane jutted at wild angles with the power he was using. His red eyes seemed almost disturbed by ripples frozen in time as they glowed. His fur was a pure, almost ghostly white, and his fangs were bared in a cheeky grin.

Grif almost shot him, but managed to stop himself as he examined the figure. “Uh, hello?”

“Yes, hi. Question for you. Who are you and what are you doing here?” the figure questioned. “Last I checked, and believe me, I’ve had a thorough check, there really wasn’t anything living here anymore.”

“We got in late,” Grif said.

“Uh, Grif, isn’t that a vampire?” Day Moon asked.

“Excuse me. I’ll have you know I am more than just a vampire,” the figure expressed indignantly as he fully stepped through the wall. “You’ll get it right next time.”

“So, uh … what are you, then?”

“A real bucking vampire. And yes, that is the title,” he replied with a razor-toothed grin. “Now, back to the question at hoof….”

“Your name wouldn’t happen to be Tarefson?” Grif asked.

“It would be, though I go by many names. Vampire, monster, hey-you-what-are-you-doing, and ... Johnny.”

“Johnny?” Grif raised an eyebrow.

“It was the sixties. Leave it at that.”

“Which sixties?” Day Moon asked.

“The one in the past.” He groaned. “Jeez, what do they teach you kids in history nowadays?”

“Well, then, if you’re Tarefson, we have the same boss.”

“Last I checked, the ‘boss’ you refer to isn’t quite my boss. He’s a little on the short side.”

“He’s grown up since then,” Grif said. “Just got back from hell in the past.”

Tarefson hummed to himself momentarily. “Well, that’ll make things interesting. Perhaps he can finally let the contract up a little, now that he’s back.”

“Well then, perhaps we can work together? Get through this that much faster?”

“You see, while I might have agreed to that, I can’t. Contract doesn’t allow for potential collateral damage.”

“Don’t think you're good enough to avoid killing us?” Grif smirked.

“Oh, you misunderstand. I can do that, but that’s no fun. You’re both so focused on killing them that you’d give me no room to enjoy it.”

“Well, hey. If you’re a coward, that’s your thing.” Grif shrugged. “Just stay out of our way, I guess.”

Tarefson chuckled. “Yeah, sure. You two go have your fun. I’m going to have mine. Though, I will give you a word of warning. You see a mare wearing the golden guard plating, try not to kill her. She’s new to the whole vampire thing.”

“You created a vampire?” Grif asked.

“Remember that strain I mentioned on the whole contract? She may have gotten in the way. Only way to resolve the issue was to offer her the chance to keep living. Technically…. Not really.” He shrugged. “You get what I mean.”

“That's between you and him. She doesn’t attack us, we won’t attack her,” Grif promised.

“Trust me, she’s not really in the fighting mood. More in the, ‘I just had a hole in my torso,’ kinda mood.” Tarefson shrugged as he turned in a random direction. “Anyway, have fun, I’m gonna go kill more wannabe vampires. Maybe a grue if he’s got one.”

Day Moon watched silently as the vampire strode away and then passed through yet another building. Inhuman screams were soon cut short into dying gurgles mingled with a manic laughter.

“Grif,” Day Moon finally said, “what just happened?”

“You just learned a secret about Hammer Strike that not many know. He has his own monsters.”

Day Moon paused to consider that for a time and frowned in thought. “Well, I guess we can add Dark Lord to his official titles now.”

Grif laughed loudly as he clapped the colt on the back.





“Well, that was a bit of a bust,” Vital Spark said as he looked over the wilted blue flowers. A whole swath of them had been completely reduced to little more than black husks under the nuckelavee’s advance.

“Did you really expect otherwise?” Zecora asked as tendrils coiled around her legs from the earth and a dim green glow suffused her hooves. “Life does find a way, but it is not invincible. Many creatures of darkness know how to counteract nature, and others still twist it to their own ends. It would do you credit to focus more on holy arts to counter the darkness or at least help to better contain it. And at the very worst, to combat it. You know well that cold iron will only work for so many. If a greater evil breaches those walls, then Equestria and all of Equis will fall on hard times, indeed.”

Vital frowned as he worked his mortar and pestle. “I’ll get started on that after I finish this batch of mana potion. Is there any word from the other spirits?”

“Far from good.” Zecora glared at the bubble. “That is an abomination. Sombra is a fool for trying this. Either foolish or very desperate.” She shook her head. “Mother does not appreciate what he is doing.”

“And that is?”

“There are many doors that exist in magic, Vital Spark. Several are locked, and others are buried or destroyed. Sombra is endeavoring to restore one of these doors to invite something that ought not to be here. The Earth Mother does not approve, and neither do I.”

“Can we banish whatever he summons if he succeeds?”

Zecora shook her head. “I honestly don’t know.”

Vital Spark shuddered.

“For now, we must trust Grif and the colt. And I must return to calming the spirits. Several lesser undead managed to escape the confines of the barrier before we arrived. They’ve scattered to the winds. I am endeavoring to track them, but it isn’t so easy as you might think. They have a head start, and the spirits are right to be wary.”

Vital Spark nodded. “Then it sounds like we both have work to do. You for your investigation and me for keeping our casters going.”

“Let us hope that they will not be needed for much longer. This door should never have been remade. It needs to be destroyed.”

Vital Spark nodded as he ignited a burner with his magic to start brewing. “I agree.”





“Okay, so you're going to do a quick fly over the building,” Grif went over with Day Moon for the sixth time. “No fancy stuff; no being a hero. You’re going to see what you can and come right back here.”

“I understand, Grif,” Day Moon assured him. “You trained me for this, after all.” He smiled. “I’ll be there and back again before you know it.” He extended his wings and nodded to the Gryphon. “And if I run into more bats, then I’ll lead them right back here,” he promised. A few beats of his wings, and he was airborne. The flaps were loud for his takeoff, but as he climbed higher into the air, the beats became softer and softer. The young foal had taken to his lessons well. It wasn’t so much the lift generated by flapping as the outpouring of his magic to produce the necessary lift.

Just as he found himself out of Grif’s line of sight, a dark image appeared in the sky. It flew towards him, growing larger as it did. By the time he could make it out, he found himself looking upon a large twisted birdlike creature. It had red-black eyes that seemed impossibly deep, and a long curved serrated beak. Horrible hooked talons hung below it, and it bellowed at him with a beak full of razor teeth. It bee-lined for the colt almost immediately, its talons flexing menacingly.

Day Moon knew better than to direct the creature back to Grif. It had seen him. To alert Sombra to anything more would only make the hunt more difficult. The only other option was to lead the bird away. Day Moon acted accordingly. Rather than wait for the talons to come for him, he drew Shadowsbane and strafed the creature, using the force of its momentum to slice it on the wing and prepare for the next part of the challenge. The force of the impact knocked the sword from his grip, and it spiralled toward the dark streets below.

“No!” the colt dove as quickly as he could. His wings clung tightly to his sides as he went all the faster. He wasn’t about to lose his partner after working so hard to get to know it properly. The monstrosity took advantage of the action to launch a counterattack and entered into a dive of its own, one accelerated by the sheer bulk it generated and the great boom of its flapping wings.

Day Moon just managed to snatch the sword when the beast’s triumphant caws raked his ears while razor talons slashed his back. He cried in pain, but refused to let go of his partner.

The pain triggered an anger Day Moon didn’t fully understand. Something white hot inside him wanted to lash out. Unseen by him, his eyes took on a light glow as he struggled to keep the rage down. Shadowsbane glowed, and seemed almost to resonate with a white aura that pulsed in time with the foal’s fur and eyes. The cloak had been reduced to tatters, and the tang of blood carried on the air, pushing the colt’s Thestral instincts to the fore when the slits on his eyes narrowed and his glowing irises transitioned into piercing orbs that seemed almost to burn with their intensity.

The blood pumping in his ears became gradually louder as he looked at the creature. He found himself growling at it in an almost bestial fashion. He could smell it, the reek of corruption and evil upon it. It needed to die. It had no place in the world.

Such creatures deserved to be hunted, slaughtered, and consumed. And as with his favorite fruit bat, his mouth began to water. He spun in the air, and as he did so, his teeth felt almost as though they were vibrating as his fangs thickened and lengthened. Incisors and molars broadened and sharpened. The burning spread into his chest, and as he breathed, steam emerged into the night air. His wings flapped wide as the cuts over his back knit together, and his pristine white fur grew over the top once again. The sword seemed almost to hum and vibrate in its sheath. And Day Moon grinned as he pulled the sword loose. The shadows and the fog in the air seemed drawn to the blade. Even the miasma of the creature’s breath was consumed. And like power flowing through a completed circuit, the tiny runes along the blade began to glow, rising from the crossguard and flooding higher, higher, higher still. Radiant light blended with the silver as a bell-like tone was soon replaced with a full throated ringing laughter.

“Gods, I forgot how good it was to feed. It’s about time you woke up, boy. I was getting tired of waiting. You ready to let loose and reap this bloody pigeon?”

Day Moon shot like an arrow, his sword ringing as it cut through the air before him. The manic laughter was the perfect complement to the Thestral’s bloodlust, and a cry that was half screech, half roar tore from the colt’s throat as he plunged the tip of the falchion through the creature’s breast and jerked the blade upward. Moments later, a great projection of silvery-white energy burst through the creature’s back as Shadowsbane’s magic went to work, purging the dark energies and consuming them to slake its rapidly growing appetite.

The bird screamed in agony as it petrified, and then exploded into a great cloud of dust, leaving a fully awakened Shadowsbane that pulsed menacingly in the grip of its equally bloodthirsty partner. Day Moon’s chest heaved as he held the sword in trembling hooves.

“Now that’s a battleborn if ever I’ve met one!” Shadowsbane crowed. “You’re still a new blood, and you’d give my last partner a run for his money already!”

“Day Moon,” a familiar voice spoke. “You need to calm down.”

The colt hissed as he fixed his gaze on the intruder. He beheld the face of a bird, much like the one he had just killed, but this one did not carry the stench that so roused his instincts. There was something almost familiar in it, though not quite what he could recognize. His heart continued to race, and as his ears swiveled. He could hear the movements of the corrupted beasts, their calls and cries begging for him to hunt, to claim, to feast. The glow in his eyes intensified as he growled.

“You know how it is, old blood. You’ve got two options. Let him run it out or knock him out. I won’t stop you this time, out of respect for your bond to my partner as his master. But we’re both raring for a fight. And the drums are hammering hard. You’d best move fast, if you don’t want him to go off on his own.”

“Maybe you need to remember to whom you are speaking.” Grif snarled at the sword in Gryphic. “By my authority as the Avatar of the Divine Winds, I call you to be quiet. Be bound to silence until I release you.” The wind around him swirled, followed by the sword itself, creating a small vortex over its surface. The runes flared angrily at the binding, but as an object forged to serve the purpose of the Winds, it was forced to obey. With the berserker silenced, Grif turned his attention to Day Moon directly. “Day Moon, you need to find control. The beast needs your reason. Look at me. Think about your brothers, your sister. Would you want them to see this?”

Day Moon hissed again at the Gryphon, though his head began to droop, and his wings, though adapted to his changes, had begun to slow in their beats. The breathing was not one of anticipation, but the labored huffs of one who riddled with exhaustion. He bore his teeth in a snarl at the creature. He wanted to turn, to leave, but even now his wings ached. His eyes blinked slowly, heavily, as the burning gradually ebbed. He began to list lower, even as his sword guided his hooves toward the sheath. Though its runes still smoldered, it at least had enough sense to care for its master’s wellbeing and acknowledge the exhaustion this … transformation had imposed.

Grif approached Day Moon carefully, matching the foal wingbeat for wingbeat and height for height as they listed toward the cobblestone street. “I know it’s hard. I’ve faced a beast, myself. Lost myself to it, too. You need to trust me. We can overcome this,” he promised.

As Grif reached slowly toward the foal with a taloned hand, Day Moon broke away and powered toward one of the many eaves surrounding the crooked buildings. His tail whipped and wrapped itself around a sturdy beam, and the Thestral hung with folded wings. A last territorial hiss passed weakly from his lips before the rocking under the eaves finally pushed him over the edge into sleep.

Grif untied the colt’s tail gingerly from the beam and lifted Day Moon onto his back, then carefully made his way into one of the nearby buildings. It was best to let him sleep. He’d earned it.





Avalon smiled gratefully at the soldiers as they delivered a round of mana potion brewed freshly from Vital Spark and Zecora’s work station. The two shamans made a good team when it came to production time. She raised her glass in salute to the Pegasi that had delivered the potion and knocked it back. The brew was foul, but necessary to keep up their magic reserves for the barrier.

“Hey. Are you doing all right?”

A familiar set of talons rested on the Gryphoness’ shoulder as she turned to behold her sister wife. Shrial’s swords were bevelled with nicks and blunts as a result of their continual use. She and a few of the other more exceptional warriors had traded off with other units whose weapons had been imprinted with the new rune Hammer Strike had learned.

“We’re surviving,” Avalon said. “The mana potions are helping, and we take shifts to keep the barrier steady.”

“I never thought we’d be facing some of these things for real after all these years.”

“I hate to sound pessimistic, but evil always finds a way.”

Snowy cooed as she alighted on her mistress’ shoulder and preened some of Avalon’s feathers.

Shrial couldn’t help but smile. “So does love. And so does good. Grif is living proof of that. Even sealed, the Winds continue to watch over us.”

Avalon sighed. “I just hope his swords and his oath are enough. I worry about him, Shrial.”

“We would know if something had happened to him. We’re bound by blood, after all.”

Avalon shuddered. “That doesn’t make this any easier.”

“No, it doesn’t. But at least you don’t have to wait alone.”

“There is that.” Avalon smiled weakly, then tensed and hissed as the barriers began to contort again. “Better get those swords ready. We’ve got another one, and I’m not sure what it’s going to be.”

Shrial nodded. “Where?”

“Northeast sector.” Her focus seemed to vibrate in her hand. “Best move quickly. Even an artifact crafted from a divine being can’t hold these things back forever.”

Shrial took wing. “Just hold on, sister. We’ll be ready.” And with that said, she shot like an arrow toward the rapidly developing bulge in the barriers.





Grif had left Day Moon sleeping by a fire in the middle of a powerful protection circle he’d drawn. The colt was likely to be out for a while yet, so he decided to do some scouting. 

He was almost annoyed to find the streets mostly clear, even as he made his way past random debris. Large pyres burned occasionally along his path.

He was about to turn and return to Day Moon when an unearthly scream caught him off guard. Turning, he found himself staring up at a creature who he assumed had once been a Pony. Gaunt and skeletal, the beast was easily three or four meters tall. It stood on four hooves with a body covered in ashen-gray skin and patches of fur that seemed to hang off it. The face was distorted with a muzzle more akin to a canine’s than a Pony’s and a mouth full of razor-sharp teeth. 

Grif reached for his katana and just started to draw the blade when the beast seemed to explode in a shower of black blood and gore.

“Right outside the splash zone, too,” a familiar tone called out as Tarefson placed his collapsible crossbow in his coat. “What, not enough creatures in your neck of the woods, so you came over to mine?”

“Still making our way toward the center.” Grif shrugged. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Like I said, I decided the best bit of fun I could have was hunting down the largest things in this area. Though with you two and that robot around, it’s been getting somewhat boring.”

“I’m sure Sombra will have some goodies for you once I start getting close.” Grif chuckled. “Is she with you?” Grif asked.

“Ah, right, I should introduce her.” Tarefson took a small step over to reveal a mare with long blond bangs that framed her muzzle. Her eyes were a rich blue that trembled like rippling pools. Her mane flowed and juted down her back in angular spikes, and her tail seemed to hold similar, albeit softer protrusions. Her fur was a rich honey gold that shone with life, an intriguing foil to the death and decay that surrounded her. Her guard uniform had been discarded in favor of scraps of leather and cloth that had been cobbled together for a makeshift set of gear. The barest hints of blood still matted some of her fur near her chest. “This … is Guard Filly, Guard Filly, this is … another individual who works for Hammer Strike. It’s a big circle. You’ll figure it out.”

“Grif Bladefeather,” Grif offered. “I’d offer you a hand, but i’m not sure if that would burn you or not.”

“Burn me?” She blinked for a moment, and then the lightbulb went off. “Oh, right. I’m … part vampire now.” She allowed her gaze to stray as her voice dropped into a subdued whisper. “Yay….”

“What enthusiasm.” Tarefson rolled his eyes. “Anyway, if you’re headed for the center, you’re probably gonna want to continue down that road.” He pointed over to the side.

“Yeah, I figured. Was just doing some scouting. Out of curiosity, how far have you cleared the area?” Grif asked.

“Not far enough.” He frowned. “But, it’s a learning experience. After all, it’s easier to teach about these creatures by blowing them to bits and looking at the corpse after.”

“Fair enough.” Grif chuckled. “Anything actually give you trouble?”

“Most of these things are a bit too young to prove a challenge,” he replied simply. “Though they make perfect practice for Guard Filly here.”

“Best get her prepared now, right?” Grif laughed. “Any information you think I need to know?”

“My name is Angelica Victry. Is it really that hard to remember?” she asked.

“Well, that's good to know…. Not exactly need-to-know.” Grif chuckled.

“Oi, now don’t you start!”

“Anyway,” Tarefson cut in, “in terms of things you need to know, I think you have the general gist of things. Large creatures, ninety-eight percent of them are bad. Kill on sight, the usual order that Hammer Strike gave everyone.”

“You're having way too much fun with this. You know that, right?” Grif asked.

“I’ve been stuck on the sidelines for the last thousand years, give or take a few hundred. At least let me enjoy myself every now and then.”

“Well, I’d better get back and find my partner. You two keep up the bloodbath.”

Tarefson grinned. “That’s easy enough. You have fun with that. Come along, Guard Filly, we’ve got more creature's to kill.”

Grif gave a chuckle and he turned back the way he came. It was time to check on Day Moon.





“You doing okay?” Grif asked as he and Day Moon made their way down the cobblestone street. It had been four hours since Day Moon’s display. When he woke up, they had eaten and moved forward, saying very little. Grif was attempting to break the silence.

“I think so. I … it feels more like a dream, but I remember so much. It’s … it’s almost like a nightmare, but … not quite?”

Grif nodded. “It’s not easy the first time you face down the beast. I’ve faced my own more than once.”

The colt frowned. “Does it stay hard?”

“It takes time,” Grif admitted. “Eventually, though, you start learning how to stop fighting with it and start having it fight with you.”

“Fight with yo—”

All sound around Grif winked out in that moment, casting an eerie silence that left him with only the thunder of his own blood racing in his eardrums. He looked to Day Moon, only to find an unmoving colt frozen in time. When he scanned the area, he noticed several things had changed. The sky was darker than it had been a moment ago as bits and pieces of buildings and roads floated haphazardly. The road they’d been walking on now ended only a few steps ahead of them. Some monstrous whale-like creature swam quietly past them.

“In most circumstances, this meeting wouldn’t have taken place, you know,” an ethereal voice called out as the Outsider took shape from the shadows around them. “But, I can’t deny my curiosity having taken a role in it.”

Grif looked at the Pony before him, trying to place where he’d seen him before. “I recognize your face, but I’m not getting a name.”

“Unsurprising, considering you watched over events within the TARDIS.” He gave the briefest of shrugs. “Though you may have seen me, you most definitely did not know me, nor would you now, even if you did then. I am called the Outsider, a … type of embodiment, if you must place a rank to it.”

“I’d be more worried, but I feel if you wanted us dead, you wouldn’t have stopped to talk to me,” Grif noted. “And I’m guessing you know me already.”

“From your beginning to now. I may not deal with the world directly, but you can find the occasional reference or mark left in places where I found interest.” He paced around Grif. “You’re going up against something quite peculiar, not meant for this world.”

“I made an oath.” Grif shrugged. “I’ll kill whatever gets between me and Sombra, no matter what it takes.”

“Indeed.” the Outsider gave a small smirk. “I’m sure you’ll see to it. Though I advise you make sure you aren’t in over your head. You’re going to face something that will push past those limits you set for yourself. So, it would be in your best interest to not let your limits get in the way.”

“You're telling me to push past my limits?” Grif asked with a smirk. “What was that, the most cliched line you had?”

“Please. There are hundreds more written all around the world, and at least twenty that came to your mind.” The Outsider shook his head. “I’m simply giving you a warning, and nothing more. I want to see the reason why it’s you in here, and not Hammer Strike. He’s not exactly one to let others handle issues in the world.”

“Depends on the issues. He knows when it’s not his fight.”

“I’ve seen him face off against threats that were definitely not his fight. That doesn’t matter. He’d throw himself into danger time and time again, even if he knew he’d fail. This, in particular, is something he’s quite familiar with. And the mark I gave him would hide him from the creatures who watch from outside.” Outsider stopped and turned toward Grif. “That is why I’m here. I want to see the reason he has this much faith in your abilities against a threat of this nature.”

“He trusts me.” Grif shrugged. “Is that so hard to take?”

“He’s trusted many, even that wife of his, Clover. Yet he wouldn’t let her dare take a risk of similar nature.”

“Well, I don’t know what to tell you.” Grif shrugged. “No man’s an island?”

“We’ll see.” Outsider gave a small smirk. “Do your best. I’ll be watching.”

“—u? Like how you and Ping fight? Or something else?” Daymoon’s voice pierced through the veil of silence, drawing Grif’s gaze away from his target. The colt had no idea what had just transpired.

Grif looked around, the area having been returned to normal. He examined the paved road and the perfectly stationary buildings. “Uh, kind of,” he said, still a bit dazed.

“What’s wrong?” Day Moon’s wings flared nervously. “Did we get attacked? Was I locked in a time loop or something? Less than a second ago, you were fine, but now you’re not.”

“Uh nothing. It’s nothing,” Grif assured. “Just … thought I saw something. Really, it was nothing.”

Day Moon didn’t fully buy the fib, but the foal remained silent and dropped the issue for the moment, choosing instead to return to their original line of discussion. “So, what’s it like, fighting with the beast?”

“Well…” Grif started.





“Low to the ground,” Grif whispered to Day Moon as he settled in the grass staring straight ahead at his target. “Let the beast feel it out, the scents, the sounds. Don’t fight against it. Just guide it to what you want.” He dug his talons into the ground as he felt the old familiar feeling well up, the growling in the back of his mind. “When you feel the time is right, strike.” He waited, one breath, two, seven, and then it was there. The prey looked away, and Grif pounced, closing the gap between them in seconds. He locked his beak around the chupacabra’s exposed throat and bit down, letting his sharp teeth grip into the beast's flesh. He ripped his head back to the sound of a high-pitched whine, and then a quiet gurgle as the creature bled out. He spat the mixture of flesh and blood from his mouth to the ground, then looked to see if Day Moon had managed to accomplish his own kill.

A great yelp tore through the air as Day Moon leaped back from his target. The chupacabra had gone limp in one of its hind legs, and blood flowed freely from one of its calves. Day Moon had neatly hamstrung it. He let the beast exhaust itself, then took out its other hind leg. And with that out of the way, it left only the kill. Rather than the back, Day Moon struck from beneath and bit hard on the creature’s windpipe and jugular. A shower of blood was the beast’s reward as Day Moon’s prey went down. Day Moon promptly spit the flesh out and nearly gagged.

“That was disgusting.”

“Unfortunately,” Grif agreed. “And no matter what, never let the beast make you consume any of the flesh of monsters,” Grif warned.

“Not that I think I—he—we(?) would want to, but what would happen if we did?”

“Monster flesh carries a taint to it. Some of them, it’s a slow death. Others, it’s corruption. Either way, it’s not something easily undone.”

“So, are we supposed to wash our mouths out, too, then?” Day Moon spat again to help clear more of the blood from his mouth.

Grif nodded, taking a mouthful from his canteen and washing his mouth. “Still, it’s the best way to learn to work with the beast.”

“I … guess the next question I should ask is how much of a beast can I become? I mean, things change when I do that. Is there a chance they could change more?”

“That, I can’t tell you.” Grif sighed. “Your beast isn’t the same as mine.”

“I guess I’ll have to ask about it when we get back.” Day Moon frowned. “I hope someone can give me some answers.”

“Starting to feel better?” Grif asked.

“Not really, but that’s more because I still don’t know enough. I won’t be going crazy again. At least, I don’t think I will. But yes, I wish i knew more about all of this.” He frowned and looked to his sword. “Do you think Shadowsbane might know something? He’s been awfully quiet, even for him.”

“Oh!” Grif realized his mistake and looked to the blade. “I release you from your binds.”

A small burst of wind ruffled Day Moon’s fur and ear tufts. Then a great gasp grated through the air. “Finally. Honestly, Master Grif, that was simply too harsh. I do apologize for my, ahem, episode, but did you really have to seal me?”

Day Moon raised a curious brow. “Seal?”

“Shadowsbane can lose his head during combat if properly motivated,” Grif explained. “I decided he needed a timeout while I worked on helping you overcome this.”

“I was forged for battleborn, like Master Grif,” the sword explained. “You had a similar trait, which is why I was able to bond with you as my current master and partner, Master Day Moon.”

Day Moon rolled his eyes. “Do you always have to call me Master?”

“Of course. It’s only proper, after all.” The sword trembled in its sheath. “I shudder to think what my … other half might call you.”

Day Moon raised a skeptical brow. “Is he serious, Grif?”

“Yes.” Grif sighed. “I was honestly unsure about letting you take the blade. It has a very … controversial history.”

“Any chance you can tell me about it while we hunt?”

“Well, this sword has had more wielders than the rest of the set combined,” Grif explained. “The problem with being a blade made for berserkers is berserkers generally don’t live long on a battlefield.”

“You do,” Day Moon pointed out.

“I have certain advantages.” Grif chuckled. “And I only lose my head when things get really bad.”

“So, where does that leave us?” Day Moon asked as he motioned toward Shadowsbane.

“In need of a lot of training.” Grif chuckled. “Feeling better yet?”

“I think I’ll wait to answer that till after we finish the hunt.”

“All right.” Grif nodded. “Well, let’s get moving. Got the scent yet?”

“The sulfur, the decay, or the one that raises my hackles?”

“I think you know the answer.” Grif chuckled as they headed off.





Grif panted as he buried his swords in the ground. Around him, zombies, wights, cruels, ghasts, and ghouls crumpled in heaps, their bodies neatly dismembered and properly disposed of. “We must be getting close. Their numbers are getting thicker and thicker.”

Day Moon nodded grimly. “Are you sure you’re going to be able to face him like this? You’ve been pushing yourself really hard.”

“I can fight for days, if needed.” Grif chuckled as he pulled out a potion and popped the top before drinking it in one pull. “Besides, the finish is in view.”

“You mean you see him?” Day Moon’s head whipped around sharply as he brandished Shadowsbane.

Grif pointed up ahead. “Not quite.” in the distance, Day Moon could see tendrils of black smoke shooting up somewhere to the top of the dome. “Has to be the point it’s being generated.” Grif reached into his bag and pulled out a long cylindrical object. He tied it to a bolt and tied a cord around the top. Holding onto the line, he fired it into the sky. The line tightened and the head popped away. A hard red light lit up the night sky above them.

“Did you just give away our position?”

“Yes. The question you should be considering is to who.”

“You know, if it weren’t for the fact I was close by, I probably would have ignored this,” Tarefson commented as he drew near with Angelica Victry following close by.

“I figured you might want in on this.” Grif chuckled. “They’re coming in forties and fifties now.”

“Ooh, a present? For me?” Tarefson smiled. “And we’ve only just met.”

“Yeah, yeah. Go have some fun. Unleash the dogs of hell or whatever.”

“They haven’t been on a walk in some time now,” Tarefson muttered in thought.

“What?”

“Huh?” Tarefson returned.

“You know what? Nevermind.” Grif shook his head. “You draw as many as you can to you, we’re gonna charge ahead and break through. If you think you can handle it?”

Tarefson turned toward Angelica. “Guard Filly, you’re probably going to want to get back. Like, a mile or so back.”

“Day Moon, let's go. I don’t think you're old enough to see this. Hell, I don’t feel old enough to see what's about to happen,” Grif said.

“So, … you’re saying you need an adult?”

“Har, har. Come on, slowpoke.” Grif rolled his eyes and took off at a bound.

Day Moon followed close behind, being careful to keep his gaze on his mentor and far away from the vampire behind them.

As they made their way at a charge, the screaming started. Grif gripped Day Moon’s head and gently turned it back forward. “Let’s not look,” he said as he stared in the colt’s eyes and carefully turned him around to stand in front to face the great funnel generating the dome. A few nudges, and they were on their way.

“Onward.” Grif sighed. “To the belly of the beast.”





An hour later, after a lot of long hard fights, the two finally found themselves approaching their target. The wind felt wrong to Grif, perverse and acrid, as it whipped around the area where the mist was generated. The stones around them were especially dark, marked with speckles of blood and black ichor. Symbols had been painted and etched around them as the dark magic worked to accomplish its master’s whims. Grif sighed with relief when he saw the gate. It was still only a tear. It wasn’t stable yet. That meant it could still be destroyed without much issue.

A cloaked figure stood before it, chanting and mumbling in a dark tongue that was almost cliche; too cliche, a small voice in Grif’s head seemed to shout.

“It’s not right,” Grif whispered.

“I don’t smell a Pony,” Day Moon agreed.

“Hey, Sombrero!” Grif called. “Too cowardly to face me directly?”

“My name is King Sombra!” The pony turned to them. “And you should learn to respect it, you overstuffed feather duster.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say, Sambuca,” Grif responded. “So, if you’re not actually here, then there isn’t anything stopping me from closing the door behind you.” He drew his swords. “So, why don’t you just cut to the chase and tell me what the trap is. Or is little sangrita such a coward he couldn’t even do that?”

“Sang? That's not even trying, you—!” Sombra cut himself off to calm himself. “Well, I can see there is no fooling you, so yes, of course I didn't leave this portal unguarded. In fact, my friends sent along something I’m sure will get you out of my mane once and for all.” Sombra’s horn lit up in bright red as in front of Grif and Day Moon, black tar-like liquid bubbled up from beneath the stone to form a perfect circle with a twenty foot circumference ending just at Grif’s feet. It bubbled and boiled for a few seconds before a massive webbed hand reached from the depths, followed by another. And then, slowly, the beast began to emerge.

It had a round fishlike head, it’s back was covered in large spines connected by a thin razor film. The deep one opened its mouth, showing off thousands of spinelike teeth and gave a horrifying screech. Pulling itself fully to the surface, it stood before them at twenty feet tall. Its webbed hands ended in razor spikes. It’s body was a sickly green color, its orange lidless eyes grotesque with a thousand yard stare. It released a string of words in a tongue Grif could not understand and had no wish to learn, but two words stuck out to him: Pappa Dagon.

“Now I will be free of you! Creature, destroy them!” Sombra laughed as his projection faded into the ether.

Day Moon tensed and drew his sword as he growled and bared his teeth.

“Well, now.” Grif chuckled awkwardly. “This is going to be interesting. Uh, try not to get hit,” Grif cautioned.

The colt nodded. “A standoff, then?”

“This is a little more than your average beast. Just—” He was cut off as he rushed at the colt, knocking him out of the way just as claws scythed the air. “How did it move that fast?” Grif commented. He had barely made it moving at a full sprint. This was not something the colt was ready for. “Day Moon, back off,” Grif ordered as he charged. He managed to leave a few shallow cuts on the creature’s leg before it buffeted him away. He hit a nearby tree with a painful impact.

“Grif!” Day Moon cried as the tree splintered. The creature turned its head to face him and gazed with its massive orange eyes while its mouth widened in an appalling pantomime of a grin.

The beast charged, and Grif raced as fast as his gifts would carry him. He paid no mind to the screams of pain in his effort to get between the two in time. He needed more speed. He needed more power. This wasn’t going to be enough. He wasn’t enough with all his abilities. He couldn’t handle this alone.

And Day Moon didn’t have a thaumic field to keep him alive. 

More power?

Grif shut his eyes tight. His lungs burned, trying to shut it out. He needed to focus. He needed to get to Day Moon. He couldn’t let the colt die. He’d promised. Prophecy demanded it. The Winds demanded it!

Come, Avatar. Are you not our speaker? The voice dripped like oil in his mind and clung like tar. It reminded him, in a way, of the beast he had made peace with, and yet this was not that beast. The beast was but a fragment, a drop. This presence was an ocean. Why must you shut us out? Are we not also divine? A wind who blows upon the face of the land? Are we not also worthy of your respect?

Not now! Grif pushed mentaly. There was no time. Day Moon—

Poor misguided cub. What is time to death? We can make you faster. We can make you far more than you already are. Come, you who would free us. Come, and let us chat. We have much to discuss.

And almost instantly, Grif felt himself frozen. The world around him was consumed in a darkness far deeper than anything Sombra had conjured. There was no sound here, only a dreadful stillness and a terrible cold. It pushed at his skin and chilled him, but seemed unable to go past the skin. Once again, he found himself standing before the altar from his dreams, the same haunting vision that had plagued him so many times since he acquired the tablet. The great stone dais rose before him. Black chains wrapped around stone pillars and stretched to the center, where layer after layer curled and wrapped at the center in a massive knot that now seemed to pulse and throb before him like a black and withered heart.

“Well, you have me here,” Grif growled icily. He finally found himself able to move again, and took advantage of that ability by turning his head to glare at the prison. “What do you want with me?”

The mass throbbed as the voice rebounded through the prison, a whisper, a sigh, a roar, a cry. There was much pain behind the rush of voices, yet also a quiet joy in those silent portions. Was this anticipation or something else that motivated the modulations? What was the source of this discord?

Grif drew closer still. Now, he stood before deity. Now, he awaited to hear the demands of the entity that was both captor and captive, deity and defiler, a living confliction, a paradox in a way. And like the universe, Grif abhorred such things.

The voices surged again. So many fragments. So much clamor. “We wish you to fulfill your destiny. Does the prophecy say you will free only our siblings, bound as they are? Does it not simply claim you will free the gods? Are we not also a god?” it asked.

“You are a devil. You slaughtered innocents.” Grif bared his teeth in a snarl. “Their bonds are cruel. Yours are just!”

“Are they?” the voices roared as the chains surged and buckled with the god’s emotion. And then, like a firecracker, the force died. The chains crumpled in on themselves as the ball shrunk. The husky voices that spoke were torn by the sobs of the grief-stricken and the mourning. “Was it not our children that died? Was it not our flesh and blood we saw vanish to never return?” A great drawing in of breath not unlike the pull of a breathing cave signalled the fallen god’s attempt to calm itself. “We grieve our children. And for that, we are eternally bound?”

“There’s no time for this,” Grif snapped. “I have a creature I can't defeat that’s about to kill a colt I put in danger.”

“We know this well, Grif Grafson. A great Fate has worked upon you, as it has your allies. Such strings have a tendency to entangle. But if you would preserve the thread that binds you to your charge, then you will require assistance. We can aid you. We can give you what you need. Power, speed, strength. All that you require, we can provide, for such a small thing,” it said. “A very small thing, indeed.”

“What small thing?” Grif snarled. “My life? My allegiance against the Winds I swore to save? I will not betray them!”

Power surged as a great gale boomed through the space, pushing Grif back, despite how his talons dug into the surface beneath him. “You forget yourself, Avatar!” It was the Black Gale’s turn to snap now. “Remember to whom you speak! Those you owe your allegiance to are our family. Do you dare to think that we have not wept at their absence? Do you think we feel no pain at them being beyond even our grasp, beyond even our aid to help?”

Yes, there was much anger in that cascade of voices, much rage. But to Grif’s astonishment, there was also sincere pain, an anger born of grief, and a distant longing. It unconsciously made him think of his wives and children, a longing and a worry that he felt in his own heart every time he had to leave them.

And like the passing of a sudden squall, the space calmed again, and the voices spoke with a tired exhaustion that only the truly bereft could understand, those who had plunged into depths of grief so deep that it sapped the very strength and will from their being. “We have withered,” the voices continued with a barely audible sigh that seemed almost to crack with the weight of years. “Our grasp on ourself is slipping. We know not our name, nor our form.” Grif actually heard it sob. “We remember so little, only our children's warmth and the prophecies of the times. Even to break these chains would not be enough, or we would have simply escaped after our siblings left. We need a being, a form, a name, something to decide us, restore us to be more than we are. Please,” the voice pleaded, and the weight of millions of desperate voices cried with it. “Or we will vanish into the nothingness, prophecy will fail, and … and we will never see our siblings again. We … do not wish to pass without seeing them one last time.”

Grif stayed quiet for a long time. He thought on what the god before him had said. He shivered at the concept of forgetting oneself into oblivion. Part of himself wept at its pain, its story, the loss of its family. But trust? Trust was not something he could so freely give, not even to a creature that had made itself so unrecognizable as to be pitiable. No, this would require something far stronger and binding than words.

“First, I want a contract,” he finally said.

“And your terms?” A small flicker of hope crept into the tired voice. Hope, and anticipation.

“First, I need to know. How can you help me?”

“We can make you beyond death it—”

“No!” The darkness rippled, as if recoiling from the sheer will that one word had invoked. Grif shook his head. “I have no fear of my end, be it earlier or later. I will face it and welcome it with open arms.”

“Power, then,” the god said. “We could elevate your authority.”

Again, Grif shook his head. Again, the room rippled at his response. “No. I don’t seek high authority.”

The god that had fallen to become the dreaded Black Gale was quiet for a while. Its chains wrapped and clattered as they pulled against each other. “Perhaps, then, … the right of the einherjer? That gift has not been granted since before we were sealed away.”

“What's that entail?” Grif asked. Taze had heard the word before, but had no idea how such a thing could be offered.

“First, we will open your divine core, or activate your divine seed as some mortals call it. The power that does not go into improving your body will instead flow to a guardian spirit to grant them a physical body that is powered and nourished by a small amount of your own life force. This gift is often given to warriors as a means of returning to service in honorable combat. It will be as though they were resurrected. And should they fall in battle again, they will rise anew in time, so long as you yourself survive. An einherjar requires neither food nor water, though they may partake as they will. However, to seal this creation, they will need an item or token to anchor them to you, something that will serve as the connection to the land of the living and ensure they do not stray far from it or you.”

A spark of hope leaped in Grif’s chest at that dizzying prospect. Could it be true? Could it really be that simple? “Whom may I call?”

“Any one person within our power. If you so desire it, you need only list the attributes you seek, and we shall provide a number to choose from. But you must choose wisely, Grif Grafson. Once decided, the einherjar will be bound with you to the end of your days.”

“Very well.” Grif nodded. “I find this option suitable, and I know whom I will choose. But know this. I will also be adding to you. I want to leave you unable to do as you’ve done before. History must not repeat itself.”

“You would dare presume to—?” it began.

“I do dare. I am the Avatar of Winds. And I won’t allow you to kill again. Not like that,” Grif shot back.

The chamber was silent for a long time before the deity acquiesced with a sigh. “Very well. But not too much,” it stressed.

Grif nodded. “You have my word. Now it’s time you also had your name. By the authority of the Winds and by these sacred blades.” He unsheathed Vigilance and Vengeance. Both swords glowed fiercely as he approached. With two chops, he severed the chains. He let the blades fall to the floor, then grasped several links of chain in each hand. The bindings trembled with the deity’s excitement, and Grif could feel, even as the fallen Wind had said. There was little power beneath those chains anymore.

“I hereby release you from your bonds. I name you Female. I name you Therra the Mother. I name you Thea the Mourner. I name you Thana the Seer.” The chains began to glow white-hot in his talons as he spoke. The heat traveled down the lines, and soon the entire knot gleamed like the sun as specks of starlight began to shine far off in the dark void, the scattered fragments of the deity that had once been whole. “I return to you the beauty of life and death and the eternal dance. From first breath to last, you will observe every life beneath your wings and cherish it as your own cub. You will laugh at their joys, cry at their tragedies. And when they come to the gate, you will judge them fairly. Be incorruptible in your judgement and honest in your sight. I return to you the book of life and the sight to see what is to come. Every prophet or prophetess born, once again, shall be your child. I assign you the stork and the vulture as your mark. I do all this as the Avatar of the Winds, and as their herald, as your herald, now.” Grif yanked back on the chains. “Awaken, goddess Therra!” And with a massive burst of power, the chains shattered.

The stars shone with searing light as cracks groaned and stretched in jagged lines between those beacons, then grew brighter, and finally streaked forward with such intensity that the darkness was shattered and fell away like so many pieces of broken glass. The lights flooded into the orb at its center with the peaceful rattle that leaves the body when its life has been spent and the joyful surge of the first breath of life. Radiant incandescence exposed the platform. Four mighty pillars shone brightly and took on the familiar shape of the columns of Greece. Green tendrils curled and arced along the surface, spreading rapidly and filling the air with a beautiful perfume as flowers blossomed and the once-dead silence was filled with a radiant song. The beating of vast wings assaulted Grif’s ears as golden veins pulsed in time with the foliage and surged along the floor, purging the crackled black surface of ancient blood in favor of beautiful white marble that spread in ripples from the divine source that hovered above it.

In due course, the ball of energy compacted, revealing more of the massive wings, followed by four great paws, and finally the head of a gorgeous lioness wreathed in a golden astral mane that floated in the air before gradually settling along her back and neck. Her tail lashed behind her and shone with the brilliant and fierce shine of a newborn star. Her fur was a slightly darker shade than her mane. A beautiful white robe settled over her frame as the remainder of her power took its form. Beautiful highlights as vivid and varied as a nebula’s gasses swirled and spread through her mane’s hairs, the symbol of the infinite womb of life, while the vastness of space and the light of the stars swirled within her eyes. One moment, it was a starry band, the next, two great galaxies, ever changing, ever growing, ever expanding, as if all the heavens were contained therein. And indeed, perhaps they were, for a mother of life must behold all life and love all life, even as she must accept the death that is life’s twin. The immensity of the new deity’s presence, both physical and magical, would have destroyed Grif, were it not for the events to follow.

Grif gave her a respectful bow. “Lady Therra.”

“Rise, Avatar of Winds.” Gone were the many. Only one sound remained of that divisive cacophony. The voice was at once gentle and overbearing with the newborn might of the godess’s divine presence. She smiled gently as Vigilance and Vengeance hovered in the grip of her magic, then slowly levitated toward their master. “You have done well, and though I was a poor mother to you in times past, as all children do, you have taught me a lesson that I had forgotten long ago in my grief. Rise, dear child, and take up your swords again. The pact has yet to be completed, and the child of an elder goddess stands on the brink of death. This cannot be allowed. Not yet.”

“So, how do we do this?” Grif asked as he took the blades and sheathed them. “I mean, I’ve never heard of a divine seed being forced open.”

The goddess smiled. “Who said anything about force?” She tapped a claw gently and playfully on the Gryphon’s head. “You named me, Grif. You restored me to my form and purpose. And with that restoration will come a portion of the power that your predecessor never had the chance to wield. You will.” She turned her massive paw over to reveal a projection of a white pod. “A seed is a living thing. It represents the potential of infancy. And when it is ready, it sprouts and grows.” The surface of the projection cracked open as silvery tendrils extended and swirled, then thrust upward. “Giving birth to something new. How that seed grows is up to its tender. But as the mother, my power will prove sufficient to begin that process. You will not be a god, my son, but you will become something more than you are. And for now, that is what you need.” She closed her paw, and the projection faded. “How your seed grows after, and what it ultimately becomes, will be up to you.”

“Very well.” Grif nodded. “Do it, then.”

“So be it. With this pact, let the twilight of the gods begin, and let their arbiter lay claim to his power and this divine boon, in accordance with our contract.” Therra spread her wings wide and the air became thick with shimmering lights as her divine aura expanded over the space. These specks sifted and fell in time, like snow, gradually touching and absorbing into the Gryphon’s form while others hovered patiently in the air about him. “I am the child of adversity. I am what comes when the floods recede. I am the rise and I am the fall of generations great and small. Cut me down and I am stronger. I mark the years becoming longer. In man, in beast, in plant and seed, though I may change, I’ll always be. What am I?”

“Growth?” Grif asked uncertainly.

Therra smiled. “Correct.” Like a legion of arrows, the pricks that had once hovered and sifted around Grif lunged at him all at once. The energy thrust itself into his magical field, surging into every pore, every outlet, every fiber of his being. A flurry of fear rose as his breathing caught. The memory of his torture, the vacuum, the cutting, the cracking, the shattering as his very being was torn asunder under the assault in that terrible chamber at the hands of the evokers. It all came back with overwhelming clarity. Fear surged as his field fluctuated, bent, and heaved under the influx. And though he did not lose consciousness this time, he did feel that power balling into a tight knot that grew hotter, hotter, hotter still, until he finally felt something give. The cold was rent apart by the explosion of power that dug into the flood like the hungry roots of a sapling.

“Death comes on swift wings, Grif,” the goddess said as the world was consumed this time, not by darkness, but with light. “Show that abomination just how swift.”

In Ponyville, the great shield that had been mounted in honor of the brave Gryphon who sacrificed himself stood gleaming. Massive and daunting to all but the largest Gryphons who looked upon it, it was often asked how anyone could use such a shield in combat. The few Gryphons who’d stayed at the compound to look after young ones or other such reasons were given a startling sight as the large shield shook and shuddered. The base it had been mounted to broke as the shield rose into the air and spun before vanishing.

Grif found himself back where everything had started, dashing to try and save Day Moon. Even as he propelled his body faster than he ever had before, it still wasn’t enough. Divine power surged within his flesh as wind parted and swirled around him. It needed a vent, but he couldn’t yet. He had to save Day Moon. He had to stop this abomination. He needed help. He needed an ally. He needed someone he knew could save the foal. He reached out desperately with his talons. Only one word came to him; a name. A name and a face that had haunted his dreams for longer than he cared to remember.

“KEL—!”

Power erupted from Grif in a mighty surge as a bright flash filled the air in front of Day Moon. Moments later, the biggest tower shield the Thestral colt had ever laid eyes on appeared before him. It was large and square and banded with thick pieces of brass. The metal appeared as though it had been polished by a god, so bright was it in the night. Day Moon found himself having to look away, because of its radiance. But he heard the solid clang as the beast's massive fist impacted the shield, only to stop cold in its tracks. In front of Day Moon, something or someone let out a growl as they pushed against the blow.

“Honestly, Grif, why do you always have to be so stubborn? I’ve been trying to get you to talk with her for months. You’re almost as good at ignoring her as you are me.”

Grif looked upon the Gryphon, slowing his time perception as much as he could to take in the sight. Kel’leam was as tall as Grif remembered him, a towering mix of albatross and liger. He was dressed in thick plate mail of polished brightsteel lined with celestial bronze. His left shoulder was pressed against the shield's base. On his back, a massive spear lay in wait. Its head was furnished with double barbs on the back. The head itself was thin, but lethaly pointed.

Returning to regular time, Grif threw himself upon the beast from behind, slashing with Vigilance and Vengeance in rapid blows. The first dozen were clumsy as he adjusted to his body's new capabilities. Suddenly, the creature's speed, which had been so much greater beforel, seemed weighted and clumsy. Every blow it sent Grif’s way was easily dodged, and Kel’leams iron defence kept the blows off of Day Moon as the colt rained his own attacks on it.

Grif growled. “It’s not doing anything. We’re just giving it paper cuts!”

“I was made for dark magic, not this creature’s kin!” Shadowsbane warned.

Day Moon frowned as he looked at the creature towering over the shield. “Something’s got to weaken it. Poison, frost, elemental? It can’t be immune to everything!”

“Keep it busy,” Grif said as he looked over the creature. “I’ll go for the eyes.”

“Easier said than done,” Kel’leam grunted. “Is that all you’ve got, you overgrown fish?” he cast at the creature. “I eat your cousins for dinner!”

“Can you keep Day Moon alive?” Grif asked Kel’leam.

“Of course I can. I’m not that rusty.”

“Day Moon, use the bolts with the syringe filled with yellow liquid. And whatever you do, be careful. That stuff will eat through anything.”

Day Moon nodded and prepped his crossbow. “How am I supposed to get a clear shot, though? This thing can move as fast as you, can’t it?”

“Do your best.” Grif closed his eyes and concentrated. “Brindle,” he said forcefully. With the loud screech of metal on metal, his tail blade unsheathed. Unseen by Grif, the weapon had changed from a simple light curved blade to stark spike-like tip of a triblade that twisted like a corkscrew, waiting to drill into the enemy.

“Mister Kel’leam, can you hold that thing in place?” Day Moon asked.

“The most I can do is defend. If you intend to strike, then you’ll need to figure out a way to do so without compromising my defense.”

Day Moon frowned, then nodded. He prepared his second crossbow with a dart, then launched the first high into the air. The creature laughed its growling burble as it thrust forward again, pushing Kel’leam’s bulky frame ever so slightly as his claws carved ridges into the stone itself. The glint of the needle plunged, and Day Moon fixed his gaze on the target as it fell. The dart shot. Crystal shattered. The yellow substance spattered onto the ground with a hiss as it bubbled and ate into the stones. The creature, however, was not there to experience the acid’s corrosive effects. It stood a few feet away and stared with a burning intensity. The grin it had sported before was replaced by a wicked snarl.

Taking the distraction, Grif darted up behind the beast, moving quickly through the air and along the back of its neck. His tail darted with a well-practiced trust, thanks to the time he’d spent practicing in the TARDIS. The blade stabbed and corkscrewed into the deep one’s large rounded eye. A shower of eye jelly spurted and oozed with blood, and Grif felt an interesting sensation as a small trickle of power flowed from him into the weapon and then into the creature. Immediately, the eye began to darken and shrink. The skin around it dried up and began to rot. The beast screamed in pain, and Grif tore the blade from its eye. This was when he finally noticed the change that had come over Gandalfi’s weapon.

“What the?” Grif grabbed his tail to examine the new blade, and then released it seconds later, realizing that now wasn’t the time. He watched as the rot spread for a bit before finally ending. Seemingly, the creature’s own regenerative capabilities weren’t enough to repair the damage quickly, and with this knowledge came inspiration. “Day Moon, Kel’leam, get its attention and keep it. I have an idea.”

The creature had turned itself on Grif now and hissed angrily.

“How are we supposed to do that?” Day Moon asked.

Kel’leam smirked as his spear darted out with expert skill to sink a blow in the small of the creature’s back near its spinal column. “That’s how.”

Grif flew as quickly as he could. His eyes scavenged the ground below for his target, and finally, he came to the first of several bonfires he’d noted on their way in. Concentrating, he got within range of the fire and began pulling the aspect toward himself with his talons extended outward. He watched as the first beneath him slowly began to lessen. When it was just embers, he moved to the next one as fast as he could. He gathered as much fire aspect as possible and carried the large red crystal under an arm, then returned on swift wings to survey the condition of his friend and his protege.

Kel’leam and Day Moon had both taken to the air and worked to harry the deep one from above, each taking their turn to fire from above or divebomb the creature. The ground hissed and bubbled, and the creature’s webbed feet blistered as they worked to repair themselves against the corrosive effects of the acid that now coated so much of the square around it.

Grif flew to the lump-like upper back of the beast and impaled it yet again with his tail blade. It howled in pain as the rot spread rapidly, thrashing and swiping to get rid of it’s enemy, but Grif held on. Its talons dug in as he pushed power through his tail blade. The flesh beneath gave way to muscle and bone, which soon also rotted. A large hole developed that teemed with black ichor. Grif took the red stone and pushed with everything he had until it was firmly inside the slowly healing flesh. Already, he could see it beginning to knit around the crystal. Grif backed off the beast as it turned to swipe at him. Carefully, Grif led it in an elaborate dance of attacks and dodges, doing his best to keep its anger and attention on him and not the area.

“Come on, ugly. Almost there,” he said as he alighted on the ground. The beast lifted a giant webbed foot and stomped into the ground, cracking the stone beneath in an attempt to kill it’s enemy. Grif appeared yards away and watched as the beast struggled to draw it’s foot from the ground, only a few feet away from the tear that had almost stabilized into a portal.

“RUN!” Grif yelled to the others. And then he detonated the thaumic crystal, releasing the compressed destructive energy as quickly as it would go, even as he took to the air in the opposite direction. Behind them, the square, the beast, and everything in a fifty foot radius simply ceased to be as it was ripped to shreds at a nigh-incomprehensible level.

As they landed a fair distance away, the cone at the center dissipated, its source having been destroyed. The mist that created Sombra’s dome dispersed quickly, starting with the center of the top and moving downward. Unearthly screams and shrieks rose around them as sunlight slowly began to stream through the town. The beautiful bright light descended with a cleansing warmth, signifying the work was finished. High in the air overhead, a golden weave of threads pulsed concurrently with the bright energy of another dome above it. Both slowly parted to allow the free air to flow in and clear out the rest of the stench and decay in favor of the fresh smells of life and the sounds of uncorrupted nature.

“And this, Day Moon, this is the payoff.” Grif chuckled as they rose on the thermals to gaze over the gathering outside. The Ganthrithor hovered and hummed in place while Unicorns and Gryphons slowly dispersed from their various placements in the array or collapsed on the spot from sheer exhaustion. Thestrals and Gryphons both cheered and saluted respectively toward the heroes.

“Um, Grif, is there a way to turn this thing off?” Day Moon asked as he worked his jaw and fiddled with his fangs with a free hoof.

“Master Day Moon, don’t play with your teeth. Honestly, those hooves have to handle me, after all,” Shadowsbane complained.

“You’re talking normal again,” Day Moon noted with some surprise.

“Really, Master, that is rather rude. Simply because I happen to get a little drunk on the battlefield doesn’t make me abnormal,” the sword replied, even as the shaggy fur began to recede and the foal’s maw and teeth shrank slowly back to normal. The foal shuddered briefly at the sensation, but showed little abnormalities other than a slightly increased bulk.

“When we touch down, I need to give you a proper cleaning,” Day Moon said.

“That would be appreciated, young master.”

The trio touched down a few moments later on the Ganthrithor’s deck. The crew that remained parted for Hammer Strike while a low murmur passed through the assembled Gryphon crew. They eyed Kel’leam warily, uncertain of what they were seeing.

“Quite the show you put on,” the Earth Pony remarked as he drew near. 

“Yeah well, I did what I thought was necessary,” Grif said. “I’m not apologizing.”

“I didn’t expect you to.” He raised a brow. “You did what was needed. Creatures of that nature are … different in their forms of operation.”

“I also might have resurrected a goddess,” Grif said.

“Trust me, I noticed that part as well. Kinda hard to miss,” Hammer Strike replied flatly. “That potentially spread quite far. Also,” he directed his attention to Day Moon. “That sword. Would you mind letting me see it for a moment?”

Day Moon nodded. “Just give me a minute.” Once more, he removed the cloth and ran it over the sword to clean it as best he could. He sighed at the few streaks that remained, but it was the best he could do, given how stained the rag had become. Then he presented the blade to the Pony. “Be careful with him, please.”

Hammer Strike glanced to the blade for a brief moment as blue fire quickly spread over the blade and vanished, leaving the surface clean. “I’ll assist you for that part. However, …” He flipped the sword in his grip and focused on the pommel. After a few moments, he gave a brief chuckle at the sight of the blue gemstone that glinted in the sword’s pommel. “So, that’s where you went.”

“Excuse me?” the sword asked. “Do I know you?” The blade shuddered briefly. “... Apparently, I do, … somehow….”

“Perhaps not you, but your pommel is made of something that does,” Hammer Strike replied.

“If you don’t mind, Sir, could you hand me back to my master? I’d rather not be pulled into changing my allegiance by a tether you already hold to a piece of me.”

“Believe me, I’d rather not take you into my arsenal. This one in particular ties with another with me.” Hammer Strike sighed.

The metal shook as a golden tinge pulsed around the blue stone in the pommel. “I … think I feel it. And … possibly more?”

“I suppose it would be the equivalent of your family. I haven’t been able to separate most of them from me, as they are constantly trying to return. I suppose your ‘sibling,’ as the best way to describe it, did find a way, however.”

“Final Fantasy vibes much?” Grif asked Hammer Strike in Draconic.

Hammer Strike gave a blank stare before shrugging.

“Um, can I have Shadowsbane back now?” Day Moon asked.

Hammer Strike looked to the pommel once more before offering the blade back to Day Moon. “It’s similar to the sweetest song you’ve ever heard, and they constantly call out to me from the time they burned into my soul.”

“Should I keep Shadowsbane away from you, then?”

“It won’t have any negative effects.” Hammer Strike shrugged. “I’ve ignored their temptation for many years now, and I plan to do so for many more.”

“Okay, so Shadowsbane was forged with this … magic stone inside him. But if it was a part of you once, how did it get into Gryphonia?” Grif asked.

 “I gave it to a friend named Hodios a long time ago and sent him to the Gryphon Empire to find one worthy of using it. I believe Bahamut called it a ‘Tear of the Moon.’”

Pensword had landed at that moment, and stared at Hammer Strike. “Did … What?” He blinked briefly, then jumped in surprise, unleashing a startled whinny as he looked Kel’leam’s way. “Okay, why is Kel’leam back, alive, behind you?”

“As I was saying,” Hammer Strike continued, “the embodiments of the Sun and Moon died long, long ago. In their dispersal, remnants were left behind. I carry a number of them still, annoyingly.” Hammer Strike frowned as he finished his statement.

“Wait, the tears are real?” Pensword balked. Then he shook his head. “Another time. I want to know something else now, something a lot more pressing. So, let me repeat myself. Why is Kel’leam suddenly alive? I saw the body. I facilitated your last goodbye. So, how the buck are you standing here right now?”

Kel’leam chuckled. “It seems all it takes is coming back from the dead for people to finally notice you.” He planted a heavy hand on Pensword’s shoulder and bowed his head respectfully, unaware of the commander’s shaking legs. “It’s good to see you again, Pensword. As for how I’m here now, let’s just say I had a little divine intervention. You could say I am that intervention.”

“Kel’leam is my einherjer,” Grif said.

Hammer Strike glanced to the group, noting a few confused or questioning glances. Giving a brief sigh, he finally spoke up. “A simple way to explain it would be a spirit brought back to the physical realm through a connection of more divine nature. Most of the time.”

Kel’leam shrugged. “Close enough.” Then he chuckled. “Wait until I get back home. I can’t wait to see the look on Chesh’s face.”

“And see your son,” Grif added.

“Oh, yes. That, too.” He turned, smiled, then froze as the words sunk in and whipped around to gape at Grif. “I have a son?”

“Cú Chulainn.” Grif smiled at him. “Large boy. Takes after his father.”

Kel’leam chuckled, then broke down into a fit of laughter. Tears of mirth streaked down his cheeks, as if one of the richest jokes had just been told to him, and the punchline had been far stronger than usual.

Day Moon cocked his head in confusion. “What’s so funny?” he asked.

Kel’leam wiped a tear from his cheek and grinned. “Oh, I was just thinking how pissed Chesh is going to be that Grif spoiled the surprise.”

“Somehow, I think she’ll find it in her heart to forgive me.” Grif chuckled in turn.

“If she’s not, don’t expect me to protect you. I may be your einherjar, but she’s my wife.”

“Circlet, would you mind tracking who isn’t onboard, including the three extra individuals who weren’t with us when we arrived?” Hammer Strike questioned.

“Already on it,” Caring circlet said as the golem appeared on deck.

“What the hell?” Grif said, shocked.

“Oh. Hello, Grif. I’ve undergone several upgrades since you were away.”

“I mean, I did warn you,” Hammer Strike added.

“You—I mean, I didn't expect it to be this drastic!” Grif said.

“What? She’s just slightly more … alive, and not tied physically to the ship anymore while maintaining full control over it.”

“Hammer Strike…. If I wake up in a month and I look out a window and I see the moon and Equis outside said window, I am not going to be surprised,” he finished saying while eyeing the golem.

“Nah, that’d take longer than a month. Probably two if I can get some schematics loaded and created, however,” Hammer Strike muttered. “A month if I were to modify the Gantrithor.”

“The Gantrithor’s perfect for now,” Grif said. “Save space until we have Equis settled, okay?”

“I’ll think about it.” Hammer Strike smirked. “To be fair, I suppose I do need to deal with… everything else. Like finding my son, Yharon.”

Grif took a moment. “Oh, right, Dragon son.”

“We’ll chat more when we’re ready to go back to New Unity.” Hammer Strike frowned. “Everyone should be preparing to board once again. Though, I get the feeling Cayde and Tarefson are going to beat them all, despite still being the farthest away.”

“Fair enough.” Grif yawned. “Quick debrief. Then me and Day Moon need to sleep.”

“I think you may be too late, Master Grif,” Shadowsbane said. Day Moon was perched precariously over the sword. His wings drooped low on the deck, and his eyes were practically welded shut. “If someone could carry us to bed, I would be most grateful.”

“I suppose I’ve got a moment,” Hammer Strike remarked as he walked over to Day Moon and lifted the colt gently onto his back. “I’ll meet everyone on the bridge.”