//------------------------------//
// 93.7 No Matter How Far We Go... 
// Story: Prey and a Lamb 
// by Lambs Prey 
//------------------------------//

The book was a decently old one. Not ancient by any means, but still old. The pages were yellowing, and the spine was full of deeply-ingrained dust. Nor had it been carefully preserved down the years.

It wasn't a big, thick tome either, rather short at barely over a hundred pages actually. It contained a collection of essays and theories written by a number of young scholars graduating all in the same year, and published by the university afterwards. The book had no doubt been intended as reference material for the next few years’ graduates, and nothing more. An updated version of the book was probably complied every year, kept for about ten or even twenty years by the university for proprietary's sake, and then... simply phased out.

This copy was probably one of the few surviving from that year, but while its’ scarcity therefore technically made it rare, nobody out there would be bidding gold for it. There were a thousand-and-one similar books produced and forgotten every single year.

This particular one in question was ninety-four years old. Not new, but not truly old either, and so existed in a limbo of being unsought-after, and also unstudied.

But for all that, within its pages, there existed a written dissertation amongst all the rest which held one short section that made the book of interest to a very select few individuals in the know.


------


-In that year of After Celestia, as to the continual incursions of a vile and despicable witch coven inflicting their oppressive craft upon those rural villages and border towns, the farming ponies begged protection from the Lord of the land. But within a few short months, the earth pony Lord was laid low in his sick bed, poisoned by the vile witches, and had to beg further aid from experts in the Border Guard against the dark arts.

Historical records and available reports regarding the proceedings grow spotty. There is evidence both to support and contradict that this reprehensible witch coven was led by an infamous name of the time, the White Witch Selenia, while other reports claim she was actually in conflict with the coven, not leading them.

The frustratingly missing name of the coven does not help uncomplicate the matter.

Again, there are few preserved or reliable reports, but of those that I judge as somewhat valid, they all follow either one of two threads:

One, that the Border Guard successfully apprehended the coven, and then either the White Witch Selenia escaped or was slain in her lair.

Two, that Selenia was the coven's enemy, and that it was her who destroyed them first, before later being cornered by the Guard as she attempted to escape justice for her many crimes, but was not slain and instead through her dark arts evaded capture.

The first thread- although lacking any definitive proof to certify it, I judge the more likely for what little it matters. I can find no further records of any ponies encountering the White Witch Selenia after this date, and it is far more believable that the vile witch finally met her long overdue end than she would settle to retire into ignominy.

Why this is important, is that in the following year these events greatly contributed to local pressure, cascading into the creation of the trade agreement of 895 A.C., which was of paramount importance because of-"

Lemon Pink shut the book and put it back into her pack. The extract didn't mention Selenia the Great White Witch again, which was the only useful information to her in the whole book.

'Annoying. Why couldn't better records have been kept at the time?' Lemon thought, shifting on the bundle of sacks she'd taken as her seat, trying to find something more comfortable.

Information on the elusive witch Selenia from nearly a hundred years ago was far more important than drivel about the trade agreement the rich earth pony lords hammered out afterwards. Especially because the treaty basically amounted to them bleeding their non-pony tenants dry in a different manner to normal, rather than actually improving anything.

'Aggravating. Another dead end. And no mention of any pincushion whatsoever.' And that was the real reason she and Prey had been searching so avidly for any scrap of history about the witch Selenia.

Because they had her old pincushion locked away behind runes and tonnes of rock under Mount Canter. And they weren't sure that was enough to stop it from going walkabouts, either.

The little rag bundle with its three pins, and one stolen sewing needle, scared the both of them. Not just because they didn't know all of what it could do, but because they knew some of what it could.

Because they had hints, because it wasn't plain voodoo magic, and because the unknown promised to be horrifically dangerous. Not dangerous like a fireball. Dangerous like a plague.

'Deeply concerning. Prey survived its twisted magic twice, but the memory of what happened is a cognitive hazard to even know. I only have the verbal description of what happened. Of hunger.'

They just didn't know when the small, inconspicuous pincushion might suddenly sprout legs and create some fresh monstrosity.

'And it is so difficult to find any history on Selenia. Frustrating.'

It wasn't possible for Lemon to go back to searching reference texts right now, however. She leant her head back against the wall behind her pile of sacks, and let the silver glow of her light spell wink out. She closed her eyes in the darkness, and attempted to get some rest. It was important to get an adequate amount of sleep, and there was little else productive she could do right now. She could ignore the smell. And the contents of her surroundings had never bothered her to begin with.

Lemon briefly thought about Randy, probably going about his ordinary life back in Canterlot. He would be working in the park right now, most likely. There was no reason for her to worry about his health. No more reason than normal, at least. Life was as ever unpredictable and unfair, but Randy was in considerably less danger than she and Prey were always in.

As long as Discord didn't make another sudden return. There was little danger of the mimics returning from whatever dark corner they'd crawled into for another doomed invasion attempt. But still, you couldn't ever let your guard down.

But after this mission was done, she'd be back and able to quietly enjoy Randy's awkward, normal, mundane, and overall ordinary company again. Hopefully soon, because that would mean this mission would be over soon.







The storm-ravaged Haven Hay, where puddles of rainwater lay atop dirt too saturated to absorb anything else.

The ever-grey and overcast sky sitting over an angry sea, a huge dark mountain of storm clouds still anchored off the coast over the Breathless.

And most recently, over the course of just about thirty hours, now there were sites of sudden and unexplainable disappearances.

The Weather Tower. The lighthouse. The local Watch House.

The ISND hadn't been able to do anything.


---


"The link is the weather, it's got to be." Prey stated, having to raise his voice.

"Why has it 'got to be'? At this point, I'm prepared to humour the stupid idea of sirens and marefolk." Nimbus Feather demanded.

Gloom didn't look up from furiously scribbling out the report to Nighthawk laid on the table, "We agree with Prey. It just makes sense."

"Yeah, right. You guys have found nothing. And with all that nothing, I say again, it may as well be marefolk with all the evidence you don't have." Nimbus snorted, understandably angry at events, but focusing it in entirely the wrong direction.

"Because-" Gloom started, still scribbling.

"This is over our heads. Celestia, we can't do anything!" Inky exclaimed.

"Not if you panic, no." Crimson told her bluntly.

"I am not panicking-!"

Nimbus Feather slammed a hoof onto the table for quiet. Gloom glared at him reproachfully for making his pencil jump, and Prey just glared because of the loud noise the Staff Sargent had caused.

"We're going to be the next ponies to vanish unless we do something, so pull your bucking thinking caps on everypony! We need a solution yesterday!"

"Why do you say that, sir?" Bravo ground out, the bulky pegasus' voice gravelly with worry.

"Think. The sheriff and the entire Watch House were attacked. Who are the only ponies with Guard authority left in this town? Us! And with Trail Blazer down and out, we're locked down. We can only go as far and as fast as we can carry him, and he's in no fit state to be moved anyways because of the Celestia-damned storm!" Nimbus raged, his ears laid back and every feather bristling fiercely.

"How about-" Gloom started again.

"And when the mayor hears, he's going to flip, and then the whole of Haven Hay is going to panic and copy his example-!"

Prey pressed his hooves over his drooping ears just in time to block the horrible metallic shriek that cut across the room, sounding as if a nail were dragged down glass.

Crimson stopped dragging the blunt side of an extended wingblade down the polished metal of his raised shin guard. He calmly lowered his hoof back to the floorboards, "Sargent Gloom was trying to speak."

"Thank you Crimson," Gloom swiftly took over before any of the angry Border Rangers could start back up, "I was about to suggest that it would be best to let Prey explain. If he has something to say, then it's something important."

Nimbus Feather was not swayed. In fact, Prey both saw and mentally heard that the stallion was anything but, so he just as swiftly picked up where Gloom left off, not giving the other Sargent time to interrupt again.

"The link between all of these disappearances is the weather. The Weather Tower is self-explanatory, it wasn't doing its job and driving off storms this past fortnight, or rather the people running it weren't doing their job. The Heights family. Alto somehow got missed when the rest of his family were taken. He was sick before this, and his parents were making him stay inside, so it's possible whoever kidnapped the rest of them missed Alto's presence when observing the family. But Alto is probably why the Watch House was hit just now. Because Alto Heights was the last Heights left, and the Watch House just happened to be where he was staying."

"So where does the lighthouse, and Flash Light and Sandy Shine factor into that grand scheme, huh?" Nimbus challenged.

"And you're talking like it was some pony kidnapper when you don't know any such thing for sure." Inky joined in, almost accusingly; "The Weather Tower was locked, remember? Except for the hatch at the very top. But there's no other pegasi here than those in this very room, so nopony could've gotten up there."

Bravo rounded off the trio of critics, "No pony in Haven Hay has seen anything. If it were pony kidnappers, somepony should've seen something by now. Maybe not marefolk, because those are just a foals’ tale, but, it could be some other kind of stealthy monster, easy."

Prey waited a beat to see if Trail Blazer himself was going to miraculously rise out of his sick bed, just so he could join in with these narrow minded idiots, before answering the original question.

Panic or no panic, under pressure or not, Prey was not the sort to make excuses for another's behaviour. You were who you were at your worst just as much as at your best.

"The lighthouse also has to a lot to do with the weather, remember? What is a lighthouse for, but being a light in the storm? The link between it all has something to do with the weather."

"That's 'a' possible link. Doesn't mean it's 'the' link." Nimbus Feather disagreed, not impressed.

"Then come up with a better hypothesis. We're all ears." Gloom challenged coolly.

"...Fine, let's say the link between all three of these attacks is the weather. How does any of that help us in the least?" Nimbus asked, leaning forwards across the table aggressively.

"As I was just about to explain, it doesn't immediately. However, where did all of this start? With the Heights and the Weather Tower. It's in the name, the 'Weather' Tower. With its equipment, it's supposed to be able to at least somewhat dissipate bad weather in the area. But it hasn't been doing so. Storms have been hitting and rolling in nearly every other day without pause. Why weren't the Heights doing their job to prevent that?"

"A Weather Tower can't deal with everything. If a storm is too big, it can still roll in, and that's what you need proper weather teams for. The Heights only had three ponies old enough to be doing that. That's not enough pony power." Bravo said, surprisingly being partly reasonable.

"Then why didn't they send a message for additional assistance when it became clear it was too much for them to handle by themselves?" Gloom pointed out, while putting the final touches to his written report.

"How should I know?" Bravo shot back, getting defensive.

"Someone didn't want them to. Someone came knocking on their door, like Alto said, someone his parents didn't speak about."

"You can't take a colt's word at face value. And why didn't you inform us about Alto Heights' recovery? We should’ve been told." Nimbus shot that last accusation at Gloom.

"Because at the time, he'd just seen you leading a mob on his house." Gloom answered, rolling up the papers.

"I did not lead-!"

"That's what he saw, true or not, that's how he would've seen it. And that's not counting the possible hostile reaction of mob themselves, who will be prosecuted when this is all over with, by-the-by. I therefore judged it best to keep Alto's recovery quiet, at least until tempers had cooled a bit." Gloom answered, laying out his reasoning in a clipped, brisk tone.

It wasn't the whole truth, that being that none of the ISND trusted the Border Rangers to be competent, but Gloom was being diplomatic. Surprisingly, it had been Prey's suggestion.

'-or not that surprising, since it's to do with manipulating ponies. Luna, this town is such a moon-blighted mess-'

"Well, reinforcements are coming tomorrow, aren't they? We just need to keep ourselves safe and un-foalnapped until then don't we?" Inky cut in, eyes just slightly too wide.

Nimbus turned on her, "You mean, hide and wait to be rescued? Us? We're the Royal Guard’s very own Border Rangers!"

Inky shut her mouth sharply. Prey thought that she'd actually been speaking sense for the first time.

Crimson flexed a wing, his wingblade correspondingly flexing in its sheath, "It is a valid option. Not a nice one, but still valid if it lets us win."

"We're winning nothing by hiding like cowards." Nimbus immediately disagreed, rising to his hooves.

"You're right, there. The three of us already discussed it. But see, the thing is, we don't know what 'winning' in this situation is. We don't know what's happening, we don't know how it's happening, we don't know what the end goal is, and we don't know how we factor into all of this. If we even factor in at all. It could be that we aren't important at all to the goal of whichever pony is behind this."

"Again, you don't know for certain it's a pony and not a monster." Nimbus muttered, but after Prey had just pointed out the targeted nature of these abductions, even to him it was seeming less and less like it could be anything else.

'-but why though? Just why? I can't see any reason for why-'

'So just because you're too short sighted to see a possible reason, it means there can't possibly be one since the great Nimbus Feather can't do it. There's no I in team, but there is one in Nimbus.' Prey scoffed inside his head, utterly sick of that Ranger’s stubbornness.

"Alright, I'll concede we don't have definite proof it's ponies. But please humour us and proceed under the assumption it is a pony attack anyway. As Prey has pointed out to me, powerful or skilled unicorns would be capable of everything we've seen so far." Gloom said, having to fight to keep his tone professional, and not sarcastic as he really felt like doing.

The unhorned portion of ponykind always seemed to be so forgetful of the power another third of their race were born to wield. Or born to abuse, depending on how you looked at it. And you couldn't even argue with Prey about that, because he'd just point to unicorn criminals.

Inky, Bravo, and Nimbus all stopped to think about that, trying to find any counterargument. They'd inherently much rather blame a wild monster than blame a pony.

Crimson quietly spoke up as they chewed on that, matter-of-factly, "Perhaps you haven't seen what even one warlock with magic is capable of achieving, but the three of us have. Do not underestimate what one evil individual can and will do with magic."

'Or runes.' Prey added in his head before he could stop himself.

"A warlock?" Nimbus demanded, sucking in his breath sharply.

"Where was there a warlock?" Inky also exclaimed, unable to help herself.

"That doesn't matter. I was just using it as an example." Crimson responded.

Bravo narrowed his eyes at the ISND, thinking he wasn't being observed at that moment since he was mostly keeping quiet. However, his wings were still settling back fully against his sides after flaring up at the word 'warlock'.

'-maybe those tall tales going around the mess hall about the ISND weren't all baloney. Turns out they arrested a bucking griffin warlock after all-'

At some other time, Prey might've been mildly amused at the inaccuracy of that, but it wasn't funny in the slightest right now. Prey hated magic, and now someone might be out there, striking from the shadows and vanishing into thin air? He wasn't amused, he was sensibly afraid.

'But reinforcements are arriving tomorrow.' He reminded himself.

"Our Captain is arriving in the morning with backup and pony specialists." Gloom reminded them all, unknowingly echoing what Prey had just been thinking.

"Come tomorrow, we'll be in a much better position to solve this crime. Help is coming for the shipwrecked sailors, and also for Trail Blazer." Gloom emphasised.

"Thank you for that." Nimbus said, his disagreements and hostility not stopping him from thanking Gloom for his help with what preyed on the Staff Sargent's mind the most; his injured and unconscious subordinate.

"However, we can't hide and wait. Other ponies could vanish between now and tomorrow. That is unacceptable."

"If you have a valid suggestion to any of what we've just discussed, please, share. I'm willing to at least hear out any plan of action at the moment." Gloom said tiredly, digging for the last message-in-a-bottle he’d carried in his saddlebags.

"Patience is a virtue, but sometimes the worst thing you can do is to do nothing at all. But which is it here? We need to focus and decide what each of our squads will do now that-"

Prey twitched his head towards the door a second before someone started banging on it frantically.

Nimbus and Gloom both shouted "Come in" at more or less the same time, overlapping.

A visibly alarmed Jetson yanked the door open, the grey outside framing him in the doorway. The earth pony's ears were straight back, his raincoat askew, and he was breathing hard from running.

Seeing him, a thought flashed around the room, jumping through all the minds Prey could hear into. '-what more could have gone wrong now?-'

"The ah, the storm. It's coming." Jetson panted.

"Another storm is rolling in already? Again? After only just a few hours?" Nimbus demanded, stunned. Two storms in one day? How? They had to be forming somewhere. Inky and Bravo were just as disbelieving as their squad leader.

But Prey instinctively knew that was incorrect, he could sense it. After all the storms Haven Hay had just weathered, Jetson wouldn't have raced here in such alarm to warn them. It had to be something worse.

"No, no, not just another storm, THE storm! The big one! The ah, the, the one over the Breathless Sea. It's starting to break down and come this way!"

The mountain of stormclouds. The towering mass of black. The force of nature which had been building for weeks. That storm. And now it was finally about to burst?

What followed was a mad scramble as everyone tried to get out of the door at once.


---


Down through the slick streets and onto the docks, they moved in a rush. Prey barely managed to keep up as Jetson led the way.

A dozen ponies were already gathered there on the wet planks: sailors who'd come to check on their tied up boats, passers-by, and finally the panting mayor who'd just arrived. They'd all halted in whatever they'd been doing, unable to not stop and stare.

A brittle silence gripped every watcher. Gulls shrieked and circled, the moody sea grumbled and hissed, but the people, they were all still and silent.

Prey cantered to a stop last on the docks, blowing hard. He hadn't even for a moment considered leaving his backpack behind, not when they might have to flee Haven Hay at any moment. He sucked in a gulp of air, pushed his dangling ears back, and finally looked up. He didn't have to climb on top of any crate this time to see.

Out past the murky sea, past the partly-blocked harbour mouth, past the dark swirling cauldron of the Boiling Bay, past the tiny blob that was the Wailing Crag, and out in the distance over the Breathless Sea, the stormfront had changed.

Last time Prey had seen it, the miles-high and who-knew-how-many-wide storm had stretched from sea to sky. A gigantic, dark, brooding ball of sluggishly rotating storm clouds. It had been compact, not raining or storming away itself, just growing steadily darker and more foreboding day by day. Purple-black in places, so heavily pregnant with lightning it had been.

But now the storm had changed. Before, because of the distance, it was possible to see and roughly describe the mountainous stormfront’s edges as a smooth, contained sphere, rotating back in on itself constantly.

Not anymore. That sphere, the contained border of clouds, had begun to break.

Small when compared to the vast bulk of the dark mass, but in actuality as big as every individual storm which had so recently battered Haven Hay were the several rough 'arms' of the storm beginning to unfold from the tight sphere.

Everything had been compressed, the lightning and rain bound together. But now, it was unravelling and slowly spreading back out to its true, titanic size.

How far would it reach when expanded to its full size? Would it blot out the entire sky?

It was like watching a distant volcano spewing smoke, or a slowly moving landslide grinding its way unstoppably forwards. Too large to do anything about. Haven Hay had a few precious hours before that force of nature arrived, but there was absolutely nothing which could be done to halt its eventual arrival.

'All we can do is pack up and leave. There's no stopping that.'

'-Luna's mane, there's no way to stop that. It's too late, too large, it can't be... it can be! Deflect it, not stop it, but there is a chance-'

"The Weather Tower, maybe it can deflect or delay that. Sargent Nimbus, we have to get to the Weather Tower." Gloom suddenly shouted, startling everyone.

Nimbus Feather blinked, dazed, tearing his eyes away from the distant storm, "Wait, will that even work?"

"Maybe, I don't know. But it's worth a shot. We have to at least try." Gloom insisted.

"And as for Haven Hay," Gloom pivoted and pointed at the mayor, "Start everypony evacuating immediately."

The mayor drew back, "Evacuate? You mean, leave? After we stuck through so many storms already?!"

Around them, the other ponies instinctively followed the mayor's lead in rejecting the idea to evacuate. It was the sunk-cost fallacy, they'd already gotten through so much, and this was their home. If they left now, it would make it all pointless.

"Yes, evacuate! Everypony, get them out of Haven Hay, leave no pony behind. Only pack what they can carry, food and water. Follow the train tracks, get up to higher ground." Gloom raised his voice.

"But the shelter is here. If we're caught out in the open..." They looked in fear at the distant storm that would nevertheless eventually arrive.

That was true. Here they would at least have the shelter of the town. Gloom faltered for a moment, but then he looked at the storm, and the sea. "No, you need to leave. The sea is going to swell and flood the whole town. The entire coastline here may collapse. We have to take our chances out on the train tracks."

A chorus of distressed whinnies went up.

"Haven Hay is going to be destroyed?!"
"But it's my home!"
"This is all that I have! It's everything that I own..."

"We're going to the Weather Tower to try and use it to deflect that. I pray to Luna we'll succeed, but if we don't, then every second matters. You have to leave, all of you! Spread the word! Mayor, do your duty!"

The mayor stared, gulped, but then he looked behind himself up at the storm-battered town, which was already struggling to stay standing. And then he looked out across the waves at what was approaching, coming to a very simple realisation:

'-I don't want to be here when that arrives-'

"Yes, yes you're right. But please, try. Jetson, Harvey Drops, Quarter Turn! Everypony must be told! You take Orange Street, and you sweep down Mane Avenue, everypony warn their neighbours! Get to the elderly first!" The mayor started shouting at the ponies he recognised in his immediate vicinity, desperately trying to organise an evacuation while inside he was very obviously teetering on the brink of full-blown panic.

Would he manage, or would he break? Would another step up and take the role if that happened? Was a family going to be missed in the rush?

No time to waste asking what couldn't be answered. Nimbus Feather stepped closer, raising his voice to make himself heard to the ISND, "Gloom, Sargent Gloom. Will this plan with the Weather Tower even work?"

"Do you have any alternatives? We've got to try, so let's get moving." Gloom responded.

"That's not what I meant. None of my squad knows how to work the Weather Tower controls. Do either of you know?" Nimbus stressed, turning his head between Gloom and Crimson.

Gloom gritted his fangs in worry, still thinking on the fly, just reacting, not really planning.

He snapped his head towards Prey, the one Nimbus had completely dismissed for this, "Prey, can we do it? You saw what was there in the observation room. Could you figure it out?"

Prey felt the unseen leaden weight settling around his shoulders.

'Why is this our job? Why, for once, can't some other poor sods be saddled with fixing everyone else's problems?' He silently asked the dark, brooding heavens. But Prey drew in a breath and gave Gloom the answer he didn't want to give.

"It's, it's possible. There was a service manual I saw up in the tower, in one of the drawers. I can probably figure out the basics."

"Him, the foal-? You serious-? What if you get it wrong?" Nimbus spluttered.

Gloom stepped up, physically making Nimbus Feather turn with him until they were both facing the sea again. Gloom pointed with a flung out wing, "Then that arrives anyway! I don't have all the answers, but at this point we can hardly make it any worse."

"Sir, I think Sargent Gloom is right. There's no better option to try to save Haven Hay." Bravo spoke up. At a hard nudge from Bravo, Inky snapped out of staring at the distant storm and nodded vigorously in agreement.

Nimbus Feather looked out at the natural disaster which was coming, and realised he was out of ideas. There was no time to second guess or come up with alternatives. There was not a single person here on the docks whose hackles didn't rise in solemn fear at the dark force of nature out there.

"The Weather Tower it is then. What are we standing around for? You guys had the keys, let's go!"

Prey'd had his own plans. Nothing complicated, but it had been his plan. He didn't want to be in Haven Hay when the terrifying storm hit any more than Gloom did, but running out to the Weather Tower to try to save the port town, or at least deflect some of it, had certainly not been the plan. He'd instead meant for the three of them to get out of Haven Hay and away up to higher ground.

But now thinking twice, the Weather Tower might actually be a good fort to weather the storm in. The tower was magically reinforced and specifically designed to survive extreme weather. The emergency retreat he'd been planning on leading Gloom and Crimson to wouldn't necessarily be better now that he thought about it.

Gloom spun back to Prey, "You've got the keys still?"

"Yes, in my bag."

"Good. But we need to move as fast as possible." Gloom sounded almost apologetic.

Prey blinked, and then realised what Gloom had meant.

"No, hell no. Don't touch me." Prey immediately backed away up the dock.

Gloom quickly dipped his head and stepped closer, lowering his voice. Crimson also moved closer, cutting Nimbus and the others out of this conversation.

"Prey, please. This is an emergency situation. We don't have time to waste going by hoof, but we can be there in thirty minutes by wing. Less, even."

"No. Nobody's touching me." Prey vehemently shook his head, backing up even further.

Gloom stopped coming closer, holding up his hoof. His fangs showed in a pained grimace as he looked in indecision between Prey and Crimson, "Prey, look. I don't, whatever the reason is... is there any way we can deal with it at some other time? Please. But right now, there just isn't time."

"You guys go on, then. I'll evacuate along with the townsfolk. Here, take the keys." Prey shook his head emphatically, going to pull the backpack off his shoulders to hoof over the bundle of keys.

"There is no way under the moon we are splitting up. We need each other." Gloom forcefully denied, tufted ears going straight up in alarm at the mere suggestion, "But even if I, if we, were willing to risk you going off alone into a possible storm, we still need you to figure out the Weather Tower controls. You've got the talent for stuff like this, not us. I'm not confident at all we can figure it out without your help."

Next to Gloom, Crimson seriously nodded his complete agreement, silently imploring Prey.

Prey hated his own fearful weakness, but his breath started to come quicker and his tone rose in childish pitch, "Nobody touches me, and don't try to carry me. I'm warning you for your own good."

'-there's no time for this. Damn me, why didn't I ever make time when there was time to finally sit Prey down and ask why?-'

"I promise Prey, you know we won't, that we'd never hurt..." Gloom shot a pleading look at Crimson, "Is there any way you can convince him?"

There was a storm on the horizon, the sire of all storms, time was running out, the Border Rangers were already impatiently calling out and asking what the problem was, and Prey's issues with touch really shouldn't have been a priority! But Gloom refused to risk splitting up, a deep seated fear in his heart that the second they did, something would go wrong. And he also couldn't forcibly grab Prey to carry him, or at least not anymore. In the past Gloom might've tried, but not now. And Crimson?

Prey hastily blurted out the reminder, "There are only two things-"

"-Two things you won't do for me. I hadn't forgotten Prey." Crimson said almost reproachfully, then to Gloom, "No sir."

'-two things? What two things?-', But Gloom had no time to waste getting sidetracked. Later, if they had a later, but definitely not now.

"Moon blight and endless night!" Gloom cursed with shocking vehemence, "We are not splitting up. C'mon Prey, there's got to be something-"

Gloom abruptly paused, "How about if we carried you-"

"-Don't touch me."

"-In that?" Gloom finished. He was pointing at a medium sized empty wooden crate without a lid, sitting discarded on the edge of the docks.

Prey stared, mouth opening and closing like a fish. Why hadn't he ever thought of that?

Gloom seized upon Prey's stunned quiet, hastily going on, "A box is too bulky to hold in flight, and if you're not going to cling on to our backs, then how about if we get some rope, make some loops on each corner, and carry you in it like that?"

"If you think I'm going to hang on for dear life while I swing about a hundred meters off the ground-"

"-No no, nothing of the sort. I know the idea of flying isn't appealing to ponies without wings. Sheep! Lambs! Whatever. Look, I can carry your pack, and Crimson can carry you. He'll only fly close to the ground, you'll only ever be a few hooves off the ground in case he drops you. He won't drop you, I'm sure, but that way you'll be safe. You trust Crimson not to fly any higher than that, don't you?"

"That's not, it's not about..." Prey looked nervously up at Crimson. He deflated, sagging in his wool, "Of course I trust Crimson. As long as, as long as it's no higher than that, then just this once..."

"I promise." Crimson said, with all the complete unwavering honesty Prey knew him for.

"…Then just this once, okay. Okay." Prey sighed miserably. What was he doing? He shouldn't be going along with this madness, this was his life and safety they were talking about. But for some reason, he was going to go along with it. He was scared, curse him three ways as a zoma'grika fool, but he was still going to do it.


---


The un-aerodynamic crate wobbled in the wind as it was dragged along beneath Crimson. Wet stone, sodden earth, and rain-flattened grass zipped by beneath the crate in a rush.

The crate only dangled about a hoof beneath Crimson, but even within that short span of rope it still tried to twist every which way as the air blasted against it.

Air whooshed in through gaps in the imperfect slats and billowed in Prey’s ears. Crimson expertly skimmed the ground, never lifting the crate any higher than a few hooves off the ground as he darted to and fro, up and down. Even if he dropped Prey or the ropes somehow came undone, it was only a short tumble.

Prey had always wanted wings of his own to fly. This however, this was most definitely not flying. Prey clung on to the inside of the crate, huddled down, and held on like his life depended on it.

Gloom and the three other fliers were higher up, not skimming the ground like Crimson. Prey heard snippets of a shouted question to Gloom, asking what by Celestia they were doing. If Gloom gave an answer, Prey lost it in the wind, instead trying to focus entirely on breathing.

Prey didn't imagine flying with an awkward weight beneath was much fun for Crimson either, but what with the extra stamina from the electrite feather in addition to his superb flying skills, Crimson kept up with the others just fine.

Rushing wind noisily droned in Prey's ears, extra gusts buffeting him from above with each beat of Crimson's powerful wings. The uncomfortable crate swayed, the grey clouds in the cold sky continued to shroud the world, and Prey really, really hated every one of the twenty-seven-and-a-half minutes it took to reach the Weather Tower.


---


With impeccable control, Crimson pulled back and lowered the crate to the ground without so much as a bump, letting go of the rope and lifting clear of it before subsequently touching down, himself.

With no control whatsoever, Prey tipped the crate over and spilled out onto solid ground. Cold and wet gritty sand clung to his wool, but he didn't care.

"Come on, where are the keys? Let's get in there already." Nimbus snorted impatiently. He well had reason to be impatient.

The smooth white spire of the Weather Tower now looming over them was built higher up on the hills. It meant they all had an even better view over the cliffs and dark sea to the giant storm. It was still expanding, throwing the ocean below even further into shadow as it pushed outwards.

"Prey? Which pocket are the keys in?" Gloom asked, hurrying over. He'd taken Prey's backpack to carry, while Crimson had taken Prey. Gloom didn't dig in Prey's pack, though. He probably sensed it would be a bad idea. Prey could have nearly anything hidden in there.

"Hurry up, hurry up!" Nimbus called, his group glancing anxiously between the sealed tower’s door and back out at the storm, eyeing its inexorable spread. It was like ink had been spilled in water, slowly swirling and filling all the sky it touched with itself.

Prey wanted to lay there for a minute longer but he rolled back onto his hooves and forced himself upright, not before shooting a dirty look at Nimbus though. He sent a much more thankful look and nod to Crimson for not dropping him.

He took his backpack and swung it onto the ground, reaching for the buckles, "I'll get them. Here, hold this a second-"

A flicker of light played across the tower's base and their surroundings, pale white. Prey turned as he heard the quiet drawing of breath all around him.

Way out above the ocean, another bright white flicker lit up a patch of the storm from inside.

They all stared. Another distant flash of lightning sparked brilliantly for an instant. The patches of dark cloud that they lit up seemed so small when painted on the vast scale of the storm, but each flash was anything but small. Another flash.

The first distant rumble of lightning arrived. A distant bass rippling on the end of your fur, the precursor and promise of so much worse to come.

Flicker. Flash. Rumble. Rumble.

"Where are those keys, Prey?" Gloom asked, tone strained. The poison scars made the worry in his slitted eyes stand out starkly in the brief flashes of light.

"Right here." Prey whipped out the keyring with a jangle.

"C'mon, c'mon, c'mon." Inky was muttering, nervously shifting from hoof to hoof.

Gloom got the right key and turned it in the heavy lock. Nimbus and Bravo almost wrenched the keyring from his claw as they hauled the door open without waiting, rushing inside.

Flicker. Flash... and a while later, rumble. Prey swung his backpack back onto himself as the ominous storm in the distance continued to make its presence known. He saw Crimson wet his lips, even as he turned away from the sight and towards the open door instead.

The dim interior of the tower's first floor welcomed them back, just as they'd left it when sealing it shut. The broken and splintered pieces left by the mob sat steeped in shadow, acting as a disturbing reminder of the now broken life of the taken Heights. Or as their cenotaph.

Ahead in the gloom, the three Royal Guards stumbled over the wreckage as they made for the stairs. The enchantments laid into the tower pricked at the runes in Prey's hooves as his group similarly rushed, kicking aside splinters and scraps. The second and third floors were also just as they'd left them, trashed and broken. Prey brought up the rear, hauling along his backpack, until they emerged into the turbine room.

The air in this room was immediately different, not so silent and stale. The column of huge, slowly moving, shadowy blades filled the room with a constant breeze and thrum. The spiral stairs wound around the outside of the open space, the clatter of armour and hooves on concrete adding to the hollow atmosphere as they rushed upwards.

At the very top, Nimbus and the other two pegasi who'd rushed ahead were stopped by the locked metal door of the observation room. "Hurry up, hurry up! Why'd you even waste time locking this darned door too?"

"To be safe." Gloom pushed through, managing to get the right key on the second try, all then piling inside in a rush. Prey came in last, breathing quickly. He pushed the door shut on its reinforced hinges with a deep, metal *dun*.

"Can you lock the door again please?" Prey called to Gloom, dropping his pack against the wall.

"Forget that, we need to start figuring out how to work these controls." Nimbus ordered, pulling open the top drawer of the only desk in the room, "You said there was a manual or something around here? Where?"

Prey bared his teeth in a smile, "Oh, pardon me. Do you want the door open when those huge turbines start spinning at full speed?"

Nimbus didn't seem to hear him, busy tipping out the last of the drawers and snatching up a worn and dog-eared logbook, "Ah-ha!"

Gloom tossed the keys at Crimson, who snapped out a wing and caught them without blinking, moving to reseal the door.

Inky and Bravo crowded around their Sargent and the book, as if they'd all be able to read it and figure out what to do simultaneously.

'-c'mon, c'mon! Wait, what's this annotation here? Off-pipe twelve must be on half gauge with in-pipe thirteen? What?-'

Those thoughts did not sound promising. An observation of Nimbus which wasn't limited just to Prey as the pegasus in question began noisily flicking through the logbook and folders of complicated diagrams from the drawers with increasingly frantic speed, though said observation was gained through far more normal means by others.

"Here, let me try." Inky exclaimed, trying to take hold of the book.

Prey moved away and looked around the observation room instead. The thick glass windows circling them showed nothing but the near-formless grey of the sky beyond. Except, if Prey wasn't imagining things, it was darker than it had been the last time he'd been up here. The sky had a tinge to it, an ominous dusting of almost-purple.

Far out over the Breathless Sea sat the nucleus of the encroaching storm. Its trailing reaches were gradually covering more and more of the sky over the Boiling Bay every time Prey looked.

"Prey," Gloom's sharp call snapped his attention back to the inside of the observation room. The thestral pointed a hoof urgently at the circular control deck in the middle of the room, surrounded on all sides with gauges and levers, an open wedge in the back allowing for an operator to step inside.

"Can you work any of that? Does any of it make sense?"

"No, it doesn't! This is all jargon." Nimbus Feather shouted in frustration, not stopping his efforts to interpret the inscrutable jumble with Bravo and Inky's useless help.

Prey ignored the pegasus, and hurried around to slip in through the ring’s opening. Of course, he was then immediately faced with the constant issue of being a runt yet again. He reared up to get high enough, resting his forehooves on the metal table, then cast his eyes over what he could see.

Crimson and Gloom didn't step into the ring, staying on the outside of the controls so as to not crowd him. But they were every bit as frantic to hurry Prey up as Inky and Bravo had been. They just knew it wouldn't help.

"Can you figure anything out?" Gloom asked after a moment, unable to stop himself. Crimson gave Gloom a sideways look in place of Prey, the lamb not taking his eyes off the levers and gauges even for a moment.

Only a few of the levers were helpfully labelled, and all the others only meant anything to someone who'd been trained here. 'B1', 'B2', and 'B3a' didn't help Prey one bit.

He looked at the gauges, seeing which needles were at zero, which were nearly full, and more importantly which looked like duplicated gauges made to measure sets of the same things. Like for each of the huge fan blades in the room below.

"Prey?" Gloom tried again, shooting a worried look at the binoculars he'd looked through the last time they were there. They still pointed resolutely towards the Breathless Sea and storm, in exactly the same position as either Gale or Windy Heights had left them in.

"Let me concentrate." Prey's eyes flickered over everything, committing the controls’ positions to memory.

'I think that lever should link to this one. Assuming I'm correct, then that gauge shows the torque. And that one goes across to this one. Don't know that lever, just skip for now. Come back to it later. That one is a mirror of the one across on the other side. That means the split in the control panel is down the middle here.'

Prey closed his eyes. The position of the levers, gauges, and switches hung in his head. Prey concentrated. The pressure to hurry was most certainly not helping. He shut out the outside world. He focused inwards. Deeper.

Then he split his mind onto the paths of parallel thought. He didn't know what everything in here did, but he didn't need to. He only needed to work out enough. You didn't need to know to play a piano to just create a rough tune.

'Those ones make it go faster.' 'And these slow the spin.'

'To reverse the rotation right...' 'To increase the rotation to the left...'

Prey snapped his eyes open, his mindscape falling away. He immediately turned to his left, stretched out, and shoved a lever two slots forwards. Then without missing a beat, he turned to his right, and pulled another lever two slots backwards.

"You've got it?" Gloom asked, eyes fixed to Prey's every move.

"You've figured it out." Crimson echoed.

"Maybe. Mostly. Sort of." Prey answered, staring unblinking at the needle of a gauge. If he was right, then it should go up...

Oh so slowly, it began to tick upwards. Too slowly. Prey reached out, briefly hesitated, then pulled another lever and repeated the reverse on the opposite side of the control table.

That needle sped up, and the one in the gauge next it started moving as well. Which he believed had something to do with air pressure.

Prey stared for another long second, while Gloom and Crimson both held their breath, and the three Border Rangers in the background still hadn't noticed that Prey had started.

"Oh." Prey sucked in his breath.

"Oh? Oh what?" Gloom demanded.

"That did not sound like a good oh." Crimson stated.

"Okay, good news and bad news. Good news, I roughly know what to do, and can at least try to deflect the storm away, but only once it gets closer. The Weather Tower's range is limited.

"And the bad?"

"As I said, I roughly know what I'm doing. As in, I'm being very rough with the Weather Tower. Because I'm no expert, and I'm betting that anything but redlining every gauge won't be enough to deflect the storm. So after I'm done, this tower's machinery is probably going to be wrecked."

"If it works, then that's fine. Captain Nighthawk will approve it."

"Well, that's the thing. I don't know when the machinery is going to fail, do I? It might be halfway through doing this. Or what if the storm keeps trying to push in and isn't deflected? Then it still breaks down halfway through."

Gloom only hesitated a moment, "There isn't any better alternative. Do it anyway."

"I already am."

Prey pulled down one of the few fully labelled levers, titled 'Vent Shutters'.

There was a dull clunk from below which travelled through all of their hooves and up their legs. There was a change in the constant noise coming from the massive turbines, noticeable even through the thick metal of the sealed door.

It couldn't be seen from in the overhanging observation room, but right below the jutting out lip, vent slots in the top of the tower retracted, allowing the spinning air being churned up by the turbines inside the tower access to the world outside. A faint whistling began to fill the observation room, as the turbines continued to gather speed.

"What was that?" Nimbus demanded, finally looking up from failing to interpret the logbook.

He and his two subordinates finally noticed Prey in the middle of the control deck, reared up to reach the panels.

"What in Celestia d'you think you're doing? You can’t just guess!"

"Prey's not guessing. He's got a good idea what he's doing-"

"You could make it even worse if you just randomly guess!" Nimbus interrupted Gloom, rushing forwards to try and stop them doing something wrong.

Crimson immediately barred his, and Inky and Bravo's way. "Take your own advice. Just guessing could make the storm even worse."

"Move!"

Gloom had more than had enough. Stress and pressure was high, and the three Border Rangers had proved themselves completely useless in every regard that mattered.

"You three shut up and stay out of our way!" Gloom snarled, pointing aggressively with a wingclaw, "Prey knows what to do, or knows better than anypony else does at the very least! Don't try anything, or else!"

"Or else? Or else?!" Inky puffed up in outrage like an angry cat.

"Or else what?" Nimbus snapped.

Gloom took a deep breath, realising he'd just escalated everything. But he wasn't about to back down. Out of the corner of his eye, the thestral saw Prey glance up from the controls at him and Crimson for half a second, then turn back to watching the gauges without a word. He was trusting Gloom and Crimson to keep the three Royal Guards from misguidedly interfering.

"Either stop, or else be stopped." Gloom answered, struggling to keep his voice level.

Bravo rumbled in anger, snorting as he rolled his broad shoulders. Inky puffed up even more, wings now fully flared at her sides, and Nimbus had to take a second to find his flabbergasted voice.

"Be stopped-? Have you gone off your rocker, you bat twat?! That's Haven Hay out there, with civilians evacuating right now! They're counting on us to do something here, not throw a bucking foal at the controls with a hope and a prayer!"

"That's exactly why Prey's the one doing this, and not you. He's Haven Hay's best chance at this point-Don't even think about it. Crimson!"

Crimson stepped into Bravo's path as he made to go around the back of the control deck. "Sargent Gloom wasn't making a suggestion. Stop."

Bravo snorted and simply kept going, trying to barge past.

Crimson very precisely swept an angled wing into Bravo's side, mid-step, while he was only on three legs, just below his centre of gravity.

Bravo found himself stumbling backwards to avoid having to fall over.

The big armoured pegasus bristled fiercely, "I'm not here to-"

Crimson batted back the larger stallion for a second time, as Bravo misguidedly tried to push through again while blocking with his own wings. His block failed. Bravo found himself tripping backwards over his own hooves for the second time.

Cool as you like, Crimson levelled Bravo with an impassive stare, flexing his wings pointedly. His wingblades were still sheathed, and although Crimson made no threatening motion to change that, somehow the fact that he had sheathed wingblades came to the forefront of everyone's minds.

The atmosphere in the observation room shifted on a dime.

Bravo immediately backed up defensively. Inky glared in absolute speechless outrage, and Nimbus' wings flared up without his control.

"Are you, are you threatening us? You're threatening violence against your fellow Guards?" Nimbus asked, voice rough with disbelief. Disbelief, outrage, and alarm.

It was like finding out that the dog who'd been sitting quietly in the corner of the room was actually rabid, and not leashed at all.

Was Sargent Gloom actually threatening violence? Actual violence, here and now?

'-has he gone completely mad under the pressure?-'

"Let's all take a step back and calm this down." Gloom said carefully over the distant rushing and whistling of fan blades.

"Yes, let's do that," Nimbus Feather said just as carefully, trying not to provoke the rabid dog, "Please explain, what on Equus do you think you're doing?"

Crimson flicked his wing in a gesture that somehow conveyed he was rolling his eyes at the Border Rangers’ inability to listen to what they'd been saying over and over, but let Gloom answer as the Sargent and the one most likely to be listened to.

"Because, as I said three times already, Prey's working on it. I don't care if you think you know better, because he's the one doing it. So don't get in the way."

"He's a foal." Nimbus stated, because to him it bore repeating just in case the point wasn't obvious. Because suddenly it wasn't clear to him if the ISND were completely sane.

For a moment Gloom just didn't understand. What did that matter? Age had nothing do to with proven ability. And then it hit him. He'd forgotten for a moment, since he was so used to Prey and Crimson that he could scarcely remember the time before, when he too had treated Prey as just a foal. But to these Rangers, nothing had been proven.

"Luna damn it," Gloom sighed, "Look, age doesn't matter. Prey has been hoof picked by Princess Luna herself. He's a full member of the Night Guard, okay? Don't treat him as incapable."

"Yeah, but he's still a foal! He didn't even try to read the book, he just started pulling levers." Nimbus' voice kept rising, overpowering the muted noise of the turbines, "You're irrational, all of you! Buck, can't you see how stupid this is? And you threatened us! You literally, literally, just bucking threatened to bucking stab us you crazy bat-brained bucker!"

Crimson twitched at the racial insults, and although as Night Guards he and Gloom both had been shrugging off much worse since first arriving in Canterlot, right now this second with the mother of all storms bearing down on the port town while they desperately tried to do everything they could and the Border Rangers, instead of helping, just stood there insulting them... now was not the time.

Gloom's slitted eyes narrowed, his ears went back, and without even realising it he bared his fangs as he gritted his teeth. He almost hissed, "I trust all of you as far as I can throw you. I'd trust Crimson and Prey with my life in the middle of Tartarus. You have no idea what we've done for Equestria, for you ungrateful ponies, as soldiers of the Night."

Gloom was not helping de-escalate the standoff at all, no matter the conviction behind his words. Which was one argument in favour of deterring the three Royal Guard pegasi with the threat of violence. The problem was as Prey well knew, once you'd made the threat, if the other party didn't back down, then you had to be prepared to actually follow through.

Especially because some ponies were incapable of leaving well alone, and wouldn't stop poking the rattlesnake until it finally stopped merely rattling and actually bit them. Doubly so for the prideful Nimbus Feather, who was used to always being in the right as a member of the Royal Guard. If things weren't white, then they were black!

Prey stared cursing out a long string of Zebrican profanity inside his head, hoof hovering over a lever as he tried to judge if it were the right time to move it up a gear or not yet. He didn't have the time to spare to help deal with the standoff, and it had already escalated too far. Gloom was threatening to stop the Border Rangers by force if necessary, and while Prey thought they'd win, you never took a fight head on if at all possible. You stabbed them from behind, poisoned them, or shot them from range!

Why did they have to fight tooth and hoof every step of the way even when they were trying to do what was right for once?!

'I've got my ribbon, I can use it to-No, Gloom and Crimson will see. But then, if I don't, what if...?'

Prey's thought trailed off, and his hoof froze over the lever.

The whistling of the massive turbines driving air through slits below the observation room was abruptly dying away.

Everyone stopped for a second as their brains caught up with what their ears were telling them. The turbine fans had stopped.

"Prey?" Gloom asked, neither him nor Crimson looking away from locking eyes with the Border Rangers.

"I told you, I told you! What did I bucking tell you, a foal doesn't know how to work a Weather Tower!" Nimbus seethed, in that moment just as infuriated as he was vindicated.

On the dials and gauges under Prey's nose, briefly highlighted in flickers of distant lightning, the needles showed that the speed of the individual blades were all rapidly decreasing.

"Did it... break already?" Crimson asked cautiously.

"You bucking broke the Weather Tower! Do you have any idea what you've done?"

"All of Haven Hay is going to be destroyed!" Inky yelled out.

"I hope to Celestia when you get locked up, it's somewhere dark." Bravo smashed his hoof into the floor.

And then there came a knocking as the turbines died. It was coming from the door.


---


The knocking came again.

*Trat-Trat-Trat*

Brisk, impatient, and hard enough to echo up through the thick metal of the locked door.

*Trat-Trat-Trat-Trat*

Against his will, Prey found his head swivelling to face the recessed door. It felt like two massive hooves were gripping each side of his head and forcing it to turn.

*Trat-Trat-Trat-Trat-Trat-Trat!*

From down the five steps to the door, the knocking came- louder, more impatient. Nobody moved. Beyond the reinforced plates of glass, the brooding grey of the ever-darkening sky peered in to see what they would do.

"I'm, I'm not the only pony hearing that, right?" Inky asked, her breathing coming loud and too fast. Neither of her comrades answered her.

'Someone came knocking on the door.' Prey remembered Alto had said. Someone who was now inside the Weather Tower, who'd somehow followed them in flight all the way here, or worse, had been patiently waiting for them to arrive, and who had shut down the turbines with the emergency cut-off below.

If Prey hadn't insisted on re-locking the door behind them...

*Trat-Trat-Trat-Trat-Trat-Rata-Trat-Tat-Trat!*

'-this is who took the Heights family, the lighthouse ponies, and those in the Watch House-', Gloom realised, the sluggish thought finally crystallizing in his head, and all the consequences it entailed.

*Snk* With a flick and a metallic whisper, Crimson's wingblades extended and locked into place. He looked around at them all.

"Well, shall we see who's at the door? I doubt they're going to go away." He asked matter-of-factly.

Prey pushed away from the now useless control deck and dropped back to all fours. His stomach was awash with crawling worms. He couldn't keep the shivers from racing up and down his legs.

"The only other exit out of here is through the trapdoor up onto the tower. And they might be waiting up there already." His voice came out shamefully reedy and high.

Gloom snapped his spear together and locked the two halves with a click. It wasn't a flashy action of defiance. Gloom was arming himself because they were in danger. A spear might not even be any use against whatever was coming next.

"It's not like we have much choice, then. Let's find out who is behind all of this."

They approached the stairs down to the recessed door with all the reluctance of entering a quarry eel's burrow. The sealed door seemed to be waiting for them, the pounding ringing out.

Gloom and Crimson stepped into the stairwell, and slowly descended the five steps. The Border Rangers were hanging back, for once with nothing to say or opinions to offer.

Gloom and Crimson stood next to each other, filling the stairwell, and faced the door. Prey crouched behind them up on the topmost step, peering unblinkingly past their legs at the metal barrier dividing them from whoever was waiting on the other side.

'-here goes nothing. Nothing good-'

Gloom shifted his spear to under his wing, and then reached out and struck the door with the flat of his horseshoe, sending out a loud clang. Just like they could from this side, so too could their enemy hear from the other side.

There was no way they were about to unlock the door to see who it was face to face.

The aggressive knocking stopped. Then it rapped out a three tap beat.

Gloom scowled and kicked the door again, repeating the loud clang, "We're not playing some horseapple game here. Who are you and what do you want?" He barked out.

Who could it be? How many of them were there? And was this all going to end in blood?

Then the answer came back through the door.

The voice was raised like Gloom's had been, loud enough to filter through the solid metal, but still muffled by the time it arrived at their ears.

Words. In Equestrian. Not singing or some foreign dialect. Not marefolk or some unknown monster. Just the common variety of cruel monster; people.

"Surrender the tower. There is no escape."

First contact with their mysterious enemy, and it was immediately hostile. Gloom didn't even have to consult with Prey or Crimson, he just immediately shouted back:

"No way in Tartarus! Who are you, and what do you want?"

The muffled answer repeated, "Surrender the Weather Tower. There is no hope of escape."

"Yeah, no. Not a chance." Gloom responded, kicking the solid door loudly to emphasise his point.

"You are all trapped. We have you surrounded. There is no escape. Surrender is your only choice."

Prey immediately grabbed hold of that, "He said 'we'. There's a group of them, and it must be big. They're confident in outnumbering us." He hastily spoke up, not loud enough for whoever was on the other side to hear, but so everyone in the room could. Standing here at the top of the stairwell, he was too far away to hear any thoughts from beyond the door, and Gloom and Crimson were filling up all the space to get close. But no one knew he was a mind leech, he didn't have an excuse to squeeze past. And he didn't want to get closer to the door.

Gloom shot Prey a look to show he'd heard, gesturing hurriedly to indicate he should keep listening in. "Oh really? Funny that, because as far as I can tell, it's us who are safe in here and you who can't get in!" Gloom shouted back through the door.

"You are rabbits trapped in your burrow. You have nowhere to go. We have you surrounded." The voice from the other side reiterated. They were shouting to be heard, but Prey wasn't picking up any anger in the tone. They were simply dictating terms.

They were calm. They were confident. And that was bad.

"They've got something over us. They're too confident that they can make us surrender." Prey spoke as swiftly as he could to fill Gloom in before the Sargent shouted back their next answer. He bit his lip.

'What do they have? What do they know that I don't?!'

Gloom glared at the door, teeth grinding audibly, "Why would we surrender to you after all you've done, the ponies you've stolen?! Give me one good reason."

"Because this is not a negotiation. You have no choice." The answer was as cold as it was calm, even muted by solid steel.

Inky, Bravo, and Nimbus were simply standing and staring. This was beyond anything they had experienced before, they didn't know what to do, and worse, they were letting the indecision paralyse them. It was the ISND who were having to wrestle for any control over their degenerating situation. They were trapped in here, that was the chilling truth. There were almost certainly enemies on the roof above them, watching the hatch, what had been their last emergency escape route.

That meant most likely fliers, armed, and capable of stealthy flight.

Gloom looked to Prey and Crimson. "What do I say now?" He hissed.

"Don't give in." Crimson immediately stated.

"Yes, don't verbally give any acknowledgement of his point. Pretend we're just as confident. We can't get out, but they can't get in."

"It doesn't matter if we can't get out, because you can't get in." Gloom immediately shouted back through the door.

"There's nothing you can do in there. We can shut down this tower's workings at any time-"

"Yeah, and you still can't get in. I'm perfectly happy to sit snug here and wait you out." Gloom interrupted, kicking the door to send another loud reverberating *clang* through the metal.

"Not with the incoming storm, you can't." Came the ominous reply. However, the threat didn't actually make that much sense.

"And?" Gloom shot back derisively, "All the more reason to sit nice and snug in here."

Perhaps it also occurred to their unidentified enemy outside that they were going about this the wrong way if they wanted the ISND to give up, because a worrying pause followed.

In that tense silence, with the observation room slowly growing dimmer every minute, Prey's mind raced.

'Do they just want access to the Weather Tower control room? But then why let us go in first? Why didn't they take the Weather Tower for themselves while it was unoccupied? It doesn't make any sense! Maybe it's us they're after, then?'

Gloom shifted the balance of his spear back and forth, unable to hold still. In the shadowed stairwell, there wasn't enough light to catch the sharpened edges of Crimson's wingblades. Prey's left forehoof clutched at the end of his ribbon, frozen as they all held their breath.

With no sort of prelude, the muffled voice from outside just started up again. It now held an edge to it.

"You will surrender because of the storm. We will not permit you to use the tower's weather magic to deflect the storm, only we are allowed to do that now."

"Double the reason not to let you in, then!" Gloom shouted back.

The person on the other side wasn't done yet however, "And because if you don't surrender, the Equestrian town of Haven Hay will be caught in this storm. That is why we stopped corralling the storm and let it slip free, that you would fly here in reaction to this threat. We knew you would have no other option to turn to but the Weather Tower."

"We're dealing with pegasi or griffins. Or maybe weather special talent based unicorns." Prey immediately deduced. That knowledge wasn't going to help them get out of this situation, though. They'd walked into a box and now the lid had been slammed shut.

"You made the storm? You're guilty of all this destruction, damage, those innocent sailors who drowned?" Gloom furiously shouted through the door, anger controlling his tongue. He wasn't alone in his anger, the spark of rage leapt around the room. But it was helpless anger, because they were the ones trapped.

Gloom's accusation received no response, instead their captors just glossed over it without a care, "If you do not surrender and give us control of the tower, then the storm will strike Haven Hay as its ponies are yet evacuating. They will be caught helpless. Nopony wants that. Let us take control, and we will use the tower to drag the worst of the storm away instead. Portions of storm will no doubt break free, but the main hammer blow will fall elsewhere. That is why you have no choice but to surrender the tower to us."

'-did I just hear...? I did. But did they really actually just say...? They said...? They did, they really just said that-'

"You... you... you would murder every pony in Haven Hay? Just to get what you want?!"

Gloom couldn't find the words to express himself. He could only repeat the obvious, his mind struggling to keep up with the insanity his ears were relaying to him. Gloom wanted to see their adversaries face to face, he wanted to know who stood on the other side of this door, so he could stab them with his spear. Next to him, Crimson's mental walls were churning, dark and black.

"You would murder everypony over-? Over? Over what?!"

"We take no pleasure in this. Blame yourselves for leaving us with no other choice. The family of this tower were removed but not harmed for no longer complying. If you had stayed away, then nothing further would've been forced to occur. But you chose to interfere and steal the keys. You removed all other choices but this one."

'The keys.' The Weather Tower keys. The keys Inky had found and used when she first flew in through the roof hatch. The hatch which had been left open, because it couldn't be locked from the outside, only the inside. But the front door into the tower had been locked, keeping the angry mob out.

Like one of the sickly flashes of lightning flickering outside, in an instant it all lined up in Prey's head.

The reinforced and locked door to keep the townsfolk out. A town full of earth ponies who couldn't fly. The hatch which could only be accessed by pegasi, left unlocked at the top. The hatch that Inky and Nimbus had accessed, two of the unexpected new arrivals to Haven Hay. Inky had then gone down and opened the front door using the keys which had been stored safe inside the locked tower.

The same keys which Prey had taken with him when they left.

But why hadn't their captors just taken the keyring with them in the first place? Why had they so foolishly left the means of sealing up the tower behind for anyone to just wander in and make off with? Arrogance, or maybe a moment of short-sightedness, or perhaps just plain forgetfulness?

One and one is two, and two and two make four. The pieces rattled around and slotted into place inside Prey's head.

'We only found one set of keys in the whole tower. Surely the Heights would've had at least one spare set. But a spare set which wasn't an exact full copy, and was maybe missing the key to the observation room's door. And what if they took the wrong set of keys with them by mistake? Inky did say she found this set in a drawer, and if the other keyring was, say, obviously hanging from a hook in plain view, like the one just to the side of the door there, and the invaders thought those were the right keys...'

Prey stared at the solid metal of the locked door. A door that the people on the other side obviously couldn't unlock, since if so, they wouldn't even be having this standoff in the first place.

'And what are the chances airheads like Windy or Gale Heights ever bothered to lock this door normally? Because why would they? It was just their family living in this tower, and only them with wings who could fly in through the roof hatch which they always left open. They were the only ponies gifted with wings in the whole of Haven Hay, after all. The only door they ever needed to lock was the tower's front door.'

And if a second ring composed of a not-quite-complete set of keys, like the ones their abductors might've grabbed, had still locked and unlocked the front door when then they tested them...

And the roof hatch could only be locked from the inside, not the outside, and if they'd purposefully left it open to have an easy way back inside, and a front door key just to be sure...

And hadn't thought to check if they had a key for this here internal door, and just assumed...

Then this situation suddenly made a whole lot more sense.

Not even a string of coincidences, just one mistaken assumption, which had perpetuated the rest. You stole the keys, you locked the front door, and you left the roof hatch open. And then the very next morning, with no warning, the train had pulled into the station, and the ISND and the Border Rangers had disembarked. The kidnappers couldn't have predicted their arrival, nor the mob, nor that the ISND would take the one complete set of keys with them and fully lock up behind themselves.

But that still left the why? Just why? What did they want the Weather Tower to direct the storm for so badly?

They'd been containing and building the huge storm up bit by bit just fine, either bribing or threatening the Heights family into not dispersing the smaller storms as they rolled in and joined up. So why? Just why? Why did they need the Weather Tower and this giant storm? Why?!

Gloom did not ask why. Gloom did not care about why. The why was so much less important than all the people who had been harmed by this, and those who were about to be harmed.

"You had no choi-? No CHOICE?! You had every other choice in the world!" Gloom yelled hoarsely back. "No choice but to hurt others? No other choice than to be selfish? No choice but evil? You chose to do this, you! You and nopony else! You can't hide behind excuses, YOU chose YOUR actions!"

And the voice of the hidden person outside completely disregarded every one of Gloom's accusations. They refused any responsibility.

"Either we direct the storm to turn aside, or nopony does. We have the emergency shutdown switch out here. You gave us no choice. So now we leave you no choice. Surrender if you want to save Haven Hay, and the other ponies."

Others? And just like that, they were thrown off balance again, scrambling to keep from falling off the crumbling cliff edge. Crimson's wings and ears were each twitching erratically, each out of sync with the other. Short, jagged twitches of the off-kilter desire to shake sense into the ones responsible until they bit their tongue off and bled from their eyes.

"What others?" Crimson growled, but he hadn't been loud enough.

Gloom shouted the furious question through the door in Crimson's stead; "What others?!"

"The others. The ponies who had to be removed for their own good and kept out of the way. They are being held on what they call the Wailing Crag. If you surrender the tower to us and are swift, you can reach and release them before the storm overshadows their prison."

"What?" It wasn't clear who repeated the stunned exclamation, but it was more than one of them. All of them even? But it was Gloom who after gaping, found his voice and shouted the word through the uncaring metal, "What?"

But Prey's mind was already racing ahead before the perfunctory answer could even come back, unable to help but slot pieces together.

Prey recalled the distant spire of weathered stone rising out of the dark sea, the top more than high enough to be well away from even the highest waves. But so sheer that there was no way up the sides. The only way to access it was by air. But the very top of the crag narrowed to just a jagged point, not enough space for even one person to stand, so where could all the kidnapped victims be held? He reasoned there must be a deep crevice or crack, one into which the captured ponies were shoved.

But the Heights family were all pegasi, they could just fly away. No, that was easy enough to solve. A guard, or an iron grate hammered over the crevice with a lock, or chaining them up, or breaking one of their wings each.

'It could be a lie. But if you're not going to just kill your prisoners, then the Wailing Crag is as good a prison as any. The constant storms had grounded all boats inside the harbour, no one was going to be sailing out near it, especially not when it's supposed to be haunted.'

Dreverton. What had that been but an inactive, grey and lifeless volcano in the middle of the sea? A Wailing Crag filled with miserable prisoners all of its own.

"The ponies we had no choice but to quietly remove. We are not murderers. But if you do not retrieve them before the storm arrives at the crag, you will be. The Heights family, and those who were in the Watch House when we were forced to retrieve their son who they pointlessly hid from our agreement."

"And Sandy Shine? Flash Light? What 'crime' did they commit to deserve being murdered?" Gloom shouted through the door, words spitting a tone of alternating hot and cold fury.

"No." The heated reply crawled back through the door, "We are not murderers, unlike some, Dusky Gloom of the Nightmare Guard. The risk was simply that they would see what they shouldn't when we went to retrieve Alto Heights and returned him to his parents. As such, there was no choice."

In a flash Prey jumped to the conclusion which should already have been obvious, "They know your full name, they've been watching you. I don't know from where or how, I never saw anyone at any point, but they've been observing us."

"Last night. At the window I mean." Crimson got out from his clenched jaw.

'We're they watching us the entire day? Stalking us all along? Damn, damn, damn! How didn't I feel anything? Why did my instincts fail me now? Zoma'Grika.' Cold sweat sprung up across the whip scars on Prey's back. But the revelation that they'd been watched all along changed nothing really. It only made the stark reality of their dire situation all the clearer.

"Surrender the tower, and we will let you go rescue them from the Wailing Crag." The ultimatum came through the door.

"They've got to be lying. This is just all a trick." Nimbus Feather muttered, getting louder, "A trick, there's no proof!"

Gloom pressed his face up right close to the door, "Why would we believe a single word you say?"

"Because you have no choice. Either gamble that we will save Haven Hay and let you go to save the others from off the crag, or don't. But if you do nothing then this tower will definitely sit idle throughout and do nothing to help. You had best hurry. If you do not act soon, the storm will reach the crag before you can."

It was bait. It was so obviously bait. And it was so obviously true too. They were trapped in here, but the townsfolk were trapped out there. They had to choose whether to take the bait or sit here idle. According to their smug captors, they had no choice. Maybe these people would deflect the storm, maybe they wouldn't. But if they weren't the ones to use the Weather Tower, then it was going to remain shut down and doing nothing. It was pure spitefulness.

It was their way, or no way. And they were dangling Haven Hay and the Wailing Crag as the bait.

You have no choice indeed. But there was always a choice, and Prey knew which one he chose. All those uninformed, ungrateful, and careless townsfolk, they could go hang.

Why should it always have to be the ISND who had to sacrifice on behalf of ponies who wouldn't even cross the road for them if it were reversed? It shouldn't have to be them, it didn't have to be them. For once, why couldn't they get to walk away instead of having to be the hoofstool, and let everyone else hang?

Just like Mayflower all over again, he would choose himself. Himself, and Gloom, and Crimson.

'Please, just this once, say no.' Prey stared imploringly at Gloom, and at Crimson as they looked back to him, then to the door. And his stomach fell away.

Gloom sagged. He rested his helmeted forehead against the door with a quiet *dink*. He was silent for a long moment.

"And where are you going to send the storm? Why do this? Why do any of this?"

"The reason does not matter to you." Came the cold reply.

Prey heard the thoughts that no one spoke, as loud as hidden alarm bells resounding throughout the darkening room.

'-Are they lying? Is this just a trap?-'
'The moment we open that door, will they just kill us?-'
'-but what choice do we have?-'
'-I don't know I don't know I don't know! What do we do?-'

And Crimson. His mental walls were shaking, twisting, as unstable as Prey had ever felt them. So thin that Prey felt the shape of the thoughts stretching his friend's normally unyielding and ironlike control to the breaking point. Prey thought he heard through the buckling walls, just as muffled as through the metal door they were all facing, what might have been:

'-...should have obeyed Luna's command...-'

Luna? What did that hated alicorn have to do with anything? He must've misunderstood the context. Prey's breath froze in his throat, the rest of his body locking up in following suit.

Crimson still had the keys. He'd never returned them after relocking the door. He'd pulled them out, balanced on the flat of his upturned hoof, and was now staring down at them.

Prey forced his lungs to contract and push the air out his chest so he could speak, "Hey..." It came out weak.

"Hey," He tried again, "Hey, we're not actually going to trust...?"

Crimson didn't seem to hear, nobody seemed to hear. Crimson raised the keyring up to the lock, with a flip and a push slotting the correct one in.

"Hey, hey wait! Just, just hang on a second."

"That piece of utter slime is right," Nimbus' unexpected words jolted Prey. The stallion's perfect white teeth were showing in his pale face as he tried and failed to cover up how shaken he was, "We really don't have any choice. The lives of ponies come first."

"Wait, wait! Are we all forgetting something here? What about our lives? Our lives are important too!" Prey frantically waved his hoof about the observation room.

Gloom straightened his shoulders, and with great effort raised his head again, "Nimbus is right, Prey. If there's a chance to save the hostages’ lives..."

"Let's, let's lay this out logically-"

"Logically, we take the option to save the hostages." Gloom repeated, tone defeated.

"I and my ponies agree. We're prepared to take the risk. Fortune favours the bold, after all." Nimbus said, looking searchingly between Inky and Bravo, who each nodded with different degrees of certainty back at their Sargent. They stood up straighter in their Royal Guard armour, "We're prepared."

"I'm not! What about me? I'm not." Prey scrambled back from the top step, tripping over his backpack, "Look, j-just give me a minute to come up with a different plan, and I'll get us out of this. Just wait!"

"The hostages might not have another minute, Prey. The storm must nearly be to the crag by now." Gloom said, almost apologising such was his tone, lifting the point of his spear away from the door.

It was Crimson with the keys though, and Crimson who spoke last. Not to Prey, but shouting at those waiting for them on the other side of the steel.

"Do you swear to uphold those terms?"

A pause came, as Prey struggled to get a strap untangled, "I do so promise."

"Do you swear on the unlit moon?" Gloom's head came up, ears straight up and rigid. Prey had not ever heard that turn of phrase before, not even from Crimson, or any thestral.

A longer pause. Prey stared, eyes stinging as he didn't even blink, frozen with one gold-ringed hoof inside his pack. What had that meant?

"I do so swear." Came the muffled answer.

Gloom did not stop Crimson as he turned the key.

Prey's stomach passed through his heart and leapt into his mouth. He tasted the caustic tinge of bile in the back of his throat. The taste of fear.

"Wait-"

Scarcely had the key completed its final turn, before the heavy steel door was yanked away from Crimson and pulled open.

The slow thrum of blades weakly turning filled the room. For a heart-stopping moment, only a den of shadows waited on the other side of the door. Then, from the dregs of waning light coming in from the observation room's windows before even that was snuffed out by the coming storm, the eyes waiting for them became visible.

Yellow, slitted eyes. So familiar in the dark-furred unmoving faces. Thestrals of the rogue Clan, Myrrdon.


------


Run away, leave behind, or abandon, but do not forget your past. Remember why you ran so far and so fast in the first place.


---I---