“...hate heights, hate flying, hate everything, hate hate hate hate hate...” Blazing Light keeps whispering as the group nears the streets of lower Canterlot after flying down the side of the mountain from the upper city. So far, the only one surprised by it is Tender Feather. 65536 doesn’t even notice, being too busy turning its head around and chittering with excitement ever since they left the castle. Thankfully, the dimly lit night has provided enough cover so that nopony noticed that the quadruped riding on Sharp Biscuit’s back is a changeling wrapped in layers of clothing not exactly fitting the late summer night.
“Oh shush, you big colt,” says Darky, gently setting the unicorn cursed to be something changeling-like down, “You’re fine.”
“My leeeegs...” Blazing stumbles, trying to regain control of his wobbly and weak limbs.
“Seriously, the worst case of vertigo and fear of heights I’ve ever seen in my life.”
Blazing grumbles something incoherent to himself before looking back at Tender Feather.
“How far away is the tavern?” he asks.
“We landed a little further away than I expected but we’re still in the mountainside quarter. We’ll be there in ten minutes, give or take,” says Tender and starts leading the group through the streets of lower Canterlot.
“We would have landed in the right place if certain somepony didn’t keep praying to anything from Celestia to Bar-Gakh the Flesh Twister to be on the ground as soon as possible. If ya- you wanted quick, I could have just dropped ya- you, damn it!”
“Isn’t Bar-Gakh the OnO god for lawful evil clerics?” asks Sharp, receiving questioning glances from everypony, “What? Dusk Gloom, Grimmy, her foal, I, and a few others have sessions every Thursday. Hay, Shining Armor used to run a minotaur barbarian with us until the preparations for the wedding started. We invited Luna once shortly after her return but, as it turned out, having somepony who can actually cast epic-level magic is not as much fun as one would think. Poor Cloud Shadow hasn’t been the same after getting sent into a different dimension for five minutes via a Maze spell. Come to think of it, inviting a changeling who could transform into monsters would do wonders for the ambiance.”
“Memememememe!” 65536 starts bouncing up and down on Sharp’s back.
“You can’t transform.”
“Memememememe when I get better!”
“I’ll think about it,” Sharp can’t help cracking a smile, “Now, everypony, focus. We have a job to do.”
They reach the sought tavern soon. Despite it being so close to midnight, there are still twenty or so ponies sitting alone or in small groups and chatting. The ground floor is a wide open, long, rectangular room with the occasional wooden pillar for support, on the opposite side of which is the counter. The earth pony bartender’s eyes flick towards the incoming group and the rug with which he’s been cleaning a tall glass freezes for a moment. To somepony who knows exactly what they’re looking for, that’s enough of a giveaway.
Sharp Biscuit and Tender Feather approach him first while Darky and Blazing scan the area for any potential trouble or anypony listening. Fortunately, after the initial surprise of seeing two Nightguard and one Royal Guard armors in this part of the city the interest of the patrons seems to have dissipated rather quickly.
“How can I be of assistance to the crown this fine evening?” asks the bartender in a friendly manner, “Or is your visit here simply for pleasure.”
“Unfortunately, business only,” says Sharp, nodding towards the numerous bandaged spots all over the bartender’s coat, “Speaking of which, those look rather serious.”
“Huh?” the bartender looks at his wounds as if seeing them for the first time, “It looks a lot worse than it really is. I got spooked during the attack, tripped, and fell down the stairs.”
“Must be some serious friction on those stairs to cause burn marks,” comments Sharp.
The bartender gives him a withering look.
“I store alcohol, lantern oil, and cooking fat there. Must have struck a few sparks as I tumbled and hit a barrel. From what I heard, quite a few fires happened during the attack.”
“Mister Biscuit, let’s not go full police, alright?” Tender Feather puts a hoof on the counter, leans closer, and quickly transforms her pegasus fetlock into a changeling one and back. As the bartender gasps, she adds in a quieter voice, “I’m Tender Feather. A mutual friend told me they helped you get the survivors off the streets before the Royal Guards could get to them. Where are they?”
The innkeeper sighs, reaches behind himself for a wooden sign reading “Be right back”, puts it on the counter, and nods towards a hallway leading to the back.
“Let’s not talk here in the open,” he says.
They all follow him down into the cellar filled with supplies like in any other normal establishment. However, the next cellar behind a much sturdier door presenting itself as a storage for the more expensive kinds of wine contains eleven changelings, nine barely moving or breathing, their carapaces broken and battered, one who’s able to sit up and look at the entering group, and one in a somewhat reasonable shape cleaning the worst of the cracks in each victim’s carapace with a sponge.
Whoever can at least turn their heads do so. No one curses, no one reacts in any other way, no one has any energy left to resist. It’s clear that they knew they were on borrowed time and now they assume it’s run out.
“I’ve been feeding them whatever scraps of energy I could get but being an innkeeper isn’t exactly a love mine. By the way, my name is Tankard,” says the bartender.
“65536, have a look around, will you?” says Sharp.
As if waiting only for the permission, the drone hops off of him and begins running around between the changelings in a seemingly random pattern before stopping by the side of one and shaking its head.
“Sharp, Tendy, this one is gone.”
“Damn,” Tankard walks over, “I was suspicious it wouldn’t make it through the day. Tender Feather, can you and 65536 take care of it?”
“We can get the body out of here if needed,” says Sharp.
Tankard shakes his head.
“That won’t be necessary. We changelings do things… differently.”
The four of them watch as 65536 and Tender Feather begin covering the dead changeling with green goo which, over the course of only a few minutes, dissolves it in its entirety, leaving behind only a barely visible cloud of green mist which dissipates shortly after. Tender returns to the group while 65536 resumes running around.
“What was that about?” asks Sharp, stunned by what just transpired.
“Changelings don’t exactly go for funerals,” says Tender, “When we die, the others dissolve the body and absorb the love that’s coursing through us. Our enzymes can do pretty weird things sometimes, I doubt even the queen knows all the bloodlines and combinations we can be born with even without using shapeshifting, but the body-dissolving one is a constant. I haven’t done it in ages so I let 65536 do most of it on instinct and it’s now feeding the love to others.”
“It’s like being a high rank!” exclaims 65536, “You get a nom! And you get a nom! And you get two noms because you look really bad!” it keeps rushing from one changeling to another.
“So, what happens now?” asks Tankard, “As I said, the best I can do on my own is prolong their pain and hope some of them get better naturally.”
“We’ll have to move the worst cases to the castle dungeons where they’ll be in 65536’s reach,” says Sharp after some thought, “I wouldn’t grab everyone, though. Too risky. I’ll ask a few Nightguards to come and take the ones you identify as those with the least chance of survival to the castle. And for the love of the moon, if a Royal Guard turns up here,” he looks at Blazing, “other than that guy, you haven’t seen a changeling in your life before the invasion.”
“Trust me, that’s been the plan even with you.”
“Good. 65536, how’s it coming along?”
The drone stops, says-
“Almost done- whoah!”
-and keels forward right on its muzzle.
Sharp jumps forward and picks the dizzily blinking drone up.
“What’s going on?” he looks back at the two other changelings and then back at 65536, “Are you okay? Exhausted? Do we need to go back?”
Tender Feather and Tankard exchange glances, same goes for Darky and Blazing who smirk at each other.
“‘m fine...” mumbles 65536, “Nt ev’n hunrgy..”
“It doesn’t seem drained,” says Tender Feather, “I’m guessing that, as a drone, it’s never really had the responsibility to feed a cluster of changelings so it overdid it for its first try. Give it a few minutes and it’ll be back up and bouncing around again.”
“Still, it did help a bunch,” Tankard is now walking around and checking the sleeping changelings, “Asleep is a clear step up from unconscious.”
“Alright, I think we’ve done enough for tonight,” Sharp stands up and puts 65536 on his back, “Let’s head back.”
Once they all return to the main room of the tavern, they can’t help noticing it being strangely quiet and cold. Other than that, though, the patrons are focused only on their drinks, not paying any attention to the group anymore.
As they’re about halfway through the room, escorted by Tankard, Blazing turns his head backwards and catches the eyes of one earth pony patron staring straight at them.
No, not eyes.
Empty black holes
“What the-” Blazing furrows his brows.
The patron opens his mouth and points at him.
“SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”
The ear-splitting unnatural screech is a signal for every single other pony in the tavern to look up, their faces empty, dark grimaces of horror. One by one, they point at the group, screeching and rising up while knocking over their chairs.
Like a small horde of zombies, they charge ahead with unnaturally quick, twitchy motions, those closest to the door leading outside blocking the escape route.
“W-What’s going on?” Tankard stumbles backwards, eyes wide open.
“Citizens, by the orders of the Nightguard, stay back!” Darky raises her voice.
Sharp is quiet, taking a step back and making sure 65536 is still on his back. The drone is tightly clutching his barrel but he can feel it turning its head from side to side.
Blazing is the first one to act, pouncing at the nearest pony and getting him with a mean right hook. The pony only stumbles backwards and immediately charges at Blazing, empty black mouth gnashing and snarling.
One of Blazing’s two swords positions itself between them, aiming at the pony who rams into it with reckless abandon, causing it to harmlessly slide aside.
The entire exchange takes about two seconds, which is all Blazing needs to call out:
“Invulnerable?!” his shock turns into a smirk, “Alright,” Blazing uppercuts the charging pony so hard he makes a backflip and lands on his back.
Sharp finally realizes what’s going on and whispers:
“Luna...”
“What?” Darky hears him but can’t demand any explanation as she has to defend herself from a two ponies flailing their forelegs at her.
“It’s got something to do with the dreamscape! If they’re in the real world like this, Luna must be in trouble,” yells Sharp, stunning two ponies attacking him with quick jabs and then kicking them away, “Back off, back off and regroup! Tender, Tankard, you first.”
The only reason they’re not overwhelmed yet is that the strange ponies are massing between them and the door leading outside, pushing them back to the bar counter.
“Luna is in trouble?!” 65536 on Sharp’s back gasps, “No! Bad guys! Bad guys!” it swipes its hoof against a mouth trying to bite Sharp’s side. It has no teeth so who knows what it would do if it hit, but with the drone’s strike connecting, it’s quickly crystal clear that it won’t get a second chance.
The chomping muzzle wibbles when struck and the drone’s hoof shimmers green, cleaving through it as easily as if it was jello.
The pony screeches, though this time it’s muffled and distorted due to the mangled jaw, and stumbles backwards. Sharp uses the moment of surprise from the others to kick the nears one back and cover the slow retreat.
“Back off to the cellar!” calls out Tankard, “We can barricade the doors there.”
“We need to last until Celestia raises the sun and ponies start waking up!” says Sharp.
They reach the cellar door.
It doesn’t open. Blazing hacks at it with his sword and feels it slide over it just like it did when hitting the attacking pony.
The stumbling and stomping from upstairs makes them realize their mistake in not trying to break out immediately. The patrons downstairs were only a fraction of ponies inside the tavern. The others were sleeping in the rooms on the upper floors.
The others who now pour like a screeching wave down through the narrow staircase, stumbling over each other.
“65536, BREAK THE DOOR!” orders Sharp and feels the drone turn on his back and jump on Tender and then Tankard who is still trying to force the cellar door open.
65536 is breathing quickly, its heart beating like a jackhammer, but it forces itself not to look back when it hears Sharp grunt and hears the smacking of hooves against flesh and armor.
It swings, its digging instinct taking over and automatically transforming its hoof for the best digging efficiency at the moment of impact. A groove is left behind but the door is thick.
Next swing is enough to get the small hoof through. Like a dog paddling water, 65536 begins breaking the cellar door.
“Oh buck-”
“Darky!”
The bat pony mare disappears under the mass of ponies.
“I almost got it-” reports 65536, trying to dig as quickly as it can.
“Don’t worry about us, just keep go- oof!” Sharp has to back off after a punch in the throat directly above his breastplate.
“DIE. IN. A. DITCH!” screams Blazing furiously, now more shoving the attacking ponies away in an attempt to get to Darky lying on her back, trying in vain to push the mass off of herself with all four legs.
“GOT IT!” 65536 has finally managed to make a big enough hole for itself to go through, “Just a few seconds more so that you can fit in too,” it says, digging like crazy, each swing gouging out a good chunk of wood reinforced with cast iron.
“GO IN! LEAVE US! WARN THE OTHER CHANGELINGS DOWNSTAIRS! THEY MIGHT BE ABLE TO HURT THEM TOO!” orders Sharp.
“Wha-” 65536 turns its head. On one hole, it’s an order. On the other, it’s a really bad order.
“GO!” screams Sharp again, disappearing under a coordinated charge of several ponies.
“No!” 65536 scowls, jumps at the pile covering him, and starts “digging” the ponies, chunks flying from under its flashing hooves.
Something grabs its hind leg. I can barely turn its head before an irresistible pull on it flings it across the entire room towards the exit.
It shakes its head. The good part is that it’s now away from the pile of ponies completely covering the rest of the group. It can’t just leave them, though. Something supposedly happened to Luna and all its friends are here, overwhelmed. Sharp meant well, but 65536 has nowhere to run.
It charges back towards the pile of ponies punching and biting down.
“I’m not leaving you!” it yells.
It makes it about 3 steps forward before its entire body seizes up, enveloped by a golden glow. Struggling does nothing, and all it can do is turn its head.
Two unicorns are standing by the open door, one in the lead - older, scarred, grey, with greying brown beard and mane, and one much younger and far more typical blond and white, his flying sword hovering next to him. Both are wearing full plate armors gilded with gold and bearing multiple sun symbols.
“Vanish back into darkness, monsters!” calls out the seemingly unarmed leading unicorn in a booming voice. The solar talisman around his neck flashes in tune with his horn, and a slow shockwave, like morning sun making its way across the landscape, passes through the tavern. Wherever it touches the nightmarish ponies, they immediately sizzle away and reappear as patrons in their original places. Turned over tables and chairs return to their original positions, normal sounds return to the building, and the persistent gurgling and screeching fades completely, leaving only the beaten and bruised group groaning on the floor by the broken cellar door.
As the tavern patrons start shaking their heads and looking around, clearly knowing that something happened but having no idea what, the glow around 65536 pulls its hood over its head again. Without much care, the leading unicorn’s telekinesis tosses 65536 to the other one and advances towards the recovering group of guards and two disguised changelings.
“Get up,” says the unicorn coldly, “All of you, go outside. Now,” he adds in a tone full of authority.
Sharp wants to object but notices the second paladin holding 65536 already leaving the tavern.
“Oh buck...” he whispers. Knowing who the unicorn is thanks to his rank, he’d much rather take his chances with the possessed ponies again. With a grunt of pain, he pushes himself up and rushes towards the door, not waiting for the others.
The mountainside quarter of lower Canterlot is full of dark, dead-end alleys, and one of those is right next to Tankard’s tavern, barely lit by the dim, yellow glow coming through its upper floor windows. Out of sight of any casual observer, the second paladin removes the hood from 65536 and starts examining it. Seeing that, Sharp advances on him and gets blocked by the leader.
“While we are grateful for your intervention, Grandmaster Beacon, you are interfering with official Nightguard business,” says Sharp in the most official tone he can muster, glaring at the leading paladin, “As the head of the Nightguard, I order you to release the changeling.”
The paladin narrows his eyes and taps the solar pendant hanging around his neck.
“My business precedes yours, Sharp Biscuit,” says the paladin and, to the displeasure of everyone now catching up, levitates 65536 to himself, grabs its chin, and turns its head from side to side. 65536 smiles at him, believing that while it might not make things better, it can’t make them worse, “Hmph,” he gives the changeling back to Bright Star.
“And is your business torturing and executing prisoners of war?” Sharp doesn’t back off, scowling at him.
“Our business is purging darkness from these lands, bat.”
“Really?” Tankard takes a step forward, “Because it sure as ho- hay didn’t look like that after the invasion. Ponies in Royal Guard armors and even ponies like you kept running around, snapping the necks of surviving changelings or breaking their carapaces with blunt instruments to make it look like they died on impact from the explosion. Your ‘darkness’ disappeared when the queen and her top ranks were cast out.”
The paladin scowls.
“You should be grateful you’re not sitting in prison, awaiting your judgement for high treason, changelings,” he glances backwards at the other paladin, “Bright Star, escort them back to the castle. The innkeeper can stay here. I can sense more incursions like this one going on. I can’t tell why-”
“Something must have happened to Luna in the dreamscape,” Sharp interrupts him, “Ponies are terrified after the invasion and the creatures in there are using the fear to get into the real world.”
“Hmph,” frowns the paladin, “Ff that’s the case, fighting the symptoms is the best we can do without preparation,” he looks over everyone, “You have your orders.”
He vanishes in a flash of golden light.
“...I hate that arrogant-” Sharp breathes out to himself.
“A-hem,” Bright Star clears his throat, levitating 65536 towards Sharp, “We might not see eye-to-eye, but I can assure you that Grandmaster Beacon wouldn’t stoop so low as to order a purge of any defenseless survivors.”
“How long have you known him?” asks Sharp, grabbing 65536 and setting it on his back, “Because as far as you fanatics go-”
“I’ve served under Beacon for over a century,” Bright Star, looking barely over forty, gives Sharp an amused look, “I know him. Still, I must admit that there are members of our order who take the term ‘darkness’ rather broadly and aren’t too appreciative of nuance. Now follow me. The sooner we get to the castle the better. I doubt these incursions are random and I’m not willing to risk you getting dragged into another one.”
“Umm, how about us?” asks Tankard, looking at Tender Feather.
“You, innkeeper, can stay here. My orders regarding the rest of you were clear. You’re going to the castle with me. What you do afterwards is your call. This isn’t a situation with which I’m familiar, so I’m sticking to the orders of somepony with way more experience.”
***
The sun rises.
For the first time since 65536 has been on the surface, it does so without Luna first lowering the moon.
65536’s lower lip wibbles. It didn’t get any sleep but that’s secondary.
The secret teleportation mirror in Luna’s bedroom shifts, letting in Celestia who looks around, her eyes stopping on the changeling.
65536 looks up at her, sniffles, and buzzes over to her with forelegs spread and eyes wet.
“Luna hasn’t come baaaack!” it cries.
Celestia hugs the little creature with a sigh, patting its head with a wing.
“Beacon told me what happened last night. We must be patient.”
“Can’t we help? I could hurt those things when the others couldn’t. We must do something!”
“We can’t, little one,” Celestia shakes her head, “Dreamscape is Luna’s domain. I can’t even get there without her help, and with our lack of experience we’d be more of a burden. We have to believe in her. It was similar after her return and after Discord’s escape, but she’s always pulled through.”
“But-”
“Believe in her, 65536. I know I do.”