//------------------------------// // Chapter 13: “They don’t know what fear is… not yet.” // Story: The Ghost of Coltistrano: Phantom Eulogy // by EthanClark //------------------------------// Darkness. Swirling walls of viscous black surrounded him, suspending him above and within its oppressive sphere. Color was a faded memory here. All he knew in this place were the strands of blood, slowly dancing upwards, and the paralytic pain they so desperately fled from. He was cold. The darkness held him in an icy grip coiling his entire form with a pressure so great it forced his breath from him in gusts, but no air replaced it. Bubbled escaped his lips, and when his frantic gaze locked onto them he followed them upwards to their destination. Glimmering light peeked through the roof of his prison. It was faint, fleeting, but beckoned from within him whatever heat the abyss had not yet stolen. His legs flailed in defiance. Fear was his fuel, fear of the crushing void below and how it clung to him, and every kick pushed him higher towards the glittering surface above, but the light never changed. The same faint, ever-present glimmer mocked him as it pulled away. His next gasp brought the void into him. Choking, sputtering, flailing weakly against the viscous world of darkness holding the light at bay, limbs shaking from the chill. But something drew his flooded gaze. A dark bolt pierced the veil of light above and sailed towards him, bringing with it a gentle warmth to ward away the darkness, and as his eyes surrendered to the power of his prison he could feel the light above begin to grow as he rushed upwards, his waking eyes fluttering. His hoof was the first thing to move, waving languidly above him as if searching for something to connect with, his legs following suit as they traveled from side to side. Birdsong filled his ears along with the sound of rushing water, and a scent of greenery was about him. Finally, his eyes pulled open to take in the sudden details of the world around him, his vision foggy and uneven, and he shuffled in his place in some vain attempt to lift himself from the bedding when it hit him. He gave a throaty groan. The once traveling hoof snapped to his midsection, a mistake he soon regretted when the rushed contact brought a second singe of pain through his body. Once he recovered his senses he found himself to be naked. All he could call clothes were the plain and worn bandages around his midsection and various other wounds now making their presence known. Memory failed him, but through careful positioning of his weary limbs and a bit of determination he managed to sit upright on his simple bedding. He was greeted with the sight of lush forestry, framed by the mouth of the shallow cave he resided in. Sunlight danced across the fluttering leaves, managing to calm him as he continued his review of his surroundings, finding evidence of a small camp all around him. Light plumes of smoke rose from the smoldering fire just in front of him. The serenity encouraged him to, carefully, take the first motions to stand. “Don’t.” The voice broke his concentration and sent him right back onto the bedding with a light, but painful thud. “You’ve healed, but only just. Take it slow.” His mouth could still open. Breath could still move through his lungs and out through his throat, but he struggled to utter more than strained grunts and gasps of breath to address the stranger, though once the figure made its way around the campsite to sit before him the powers of speech made their inevitable return. “A-... Alate?” “Hello, Silver.” Soft, pale eyes contrasted a body of jet black chitin, chipped and scared, topped with what Silver could only describe as a clean ring of emerald flesh resting atop her head. Adjusting again drew a chuckle from the changeling as she closed the distance. Firm hooves pushed Silver back down to the bedding, trailing down to tighten any gauze his haste may have loosened, though a convincing slap to an old wound dissuaded him from rising again.  “I h-... heard you were north.” “And I heard you were dead.” Alate’s declaration froze Silver where he lay. “Ponies have been talking about what happened, and nothing good. They say the Ghost is gone.” Silver stammered, desperate to translate his racing mind, but Alate continued. “Soldiers are moving around Equestria, some sort of investigation. Even Ponyville-” “S-Slow down… just…” Silver looked back to his aching wounds, inspecting them carefully with trembling hooves. “How long has it been?” “Coltistrano was hit six days ago.” He nearly fainted. The rush of Alate’s words brought a maelstrom of pain to his skull, and a fog followed it, forcing Silver to grasp his face with his hooves in a weary confusion. Light mumblings rose from him, and Alate allowed him a moment’s silence before continuing. “I found some soldiers moving in and out of the old ruins. They’re trying to understand what happened there, but you can imagine how little evidence there is. Besides, we both know who did it, don’t we?” Even Silver’s failing perceptions were still keen enough to detect the hint of sarcasm in her voice, giving him an anchor to return from his haze. “How many made it out?” “Couple dozen.”  “What about Gilda, and Kindle, a-and Rarity… please-” His panic was hushed by Alate’s sharp interjection. “Your friends are alive. They moved to Ponyville with that unicorn friend of yours.” “Why… how has it been… Alate, where are we?” “Bottom of Rambling Rock ridge, a few miles south of Coltistrano. I’ve been lying low since I found you.” “But why didn’t you wake me up?” “You fell from the city all the way into the river,” Alate deadpanned. “You were bleeding, bruised, and barely breathing. Honestly, Silver, I’m surprised you woke up, at all. Have you ever tried to stitch wounds without magic?” Silver’s eyes connected with the scarred stump on Alate’s head as she fumbled with the campfire. “Shining told me what happened.” “I’m sure he did,” she said, casting a few broken branches into the flame. “That Glint is a real piece of work.” “He also told me you’d been working with them.” “For them, I’m not interested in being some royal spy, but…” “Prisoners don’t really have a choice, right?” Silver managed to quip. “Oh, they gave me a choice. I could work for them, find evidence of Shield Wall inside the Empire, and they would forgive my crimes, or I would rot in prison.” “Why did you accept?” Alate slowed her ministrations to the fire, giving Silver a sideways glance. “Because maybe Darrox would’ve liked it. Maybe it’d make him proud.” Muscles twitched along his face, and Silver weakly managed his first small smile since awakening, quickly dashed when he stirred in his bed and dared to rise once more. Alate looked over her shoulder, silently groaning at the display. Despite her best efforts to stay apathetic she still turned to assist him in sitting on his haunches and held him tightly, careful not to break anything as his eyes locked with hers. “Can you tell me what happened? How you found me?” “Well… I wasn’t in the best condition, either,” she began. “I was recovering in the Crystal Empire after Glint attacked. Sunburst let slip that Shining had left, but was coy with the details. So, I pressed him.” “Did you hurt him?” Silver asked with a firm gaze. “I’m not like that… anymore. Sunburst was helping remove Sombra’s horn safely. He’s a friend, I suppose, and not annoying enough for this old changeling to want to hurt, but he’s soft. It didn’t take much to learn Shining left to find you. I managed to escape later that night and followed him all the way to Coltistrano, but I was a day behind. I didn’t make it here until the fires had just stopped burning. That was when I found you.” A hoof covered Silver’s face, followed by a deep and ragged sigh as she continued. “I found a camp, though, after we made camp here. Soldiers, no colors I recognize, but I knew the smell. Hard to miss when you grew up around it.” “What do you mean?” Silver watched a firm tension cover her brow, rolling her next words around in her mind. “I’ve been finding them all across this region, Silver. Can’t say for sure how long they’ve been operating here, but I wouldn’t be surprised if they were who struck Coltistrano, and in the shape of EUP, too.” “Changelings,” Silver whispered. “But why would they attack Coltistrano, and with Shield, no less? He’s never been a friend to the hive folk.” “He’s not. The changelings wouldn’t dare work with him. We despise him for his campaigns against the hives, and for the hatchlings who choked to death in the flames.” She spat onto the soil in disgust. “Queen Chrysalis would sooner eat him than help him, yet her drones were looking for us.” “‘Were’?” “They’re dead, if that’s what you mean. Attacked me as soon as I approached. They ran recon on Coltistrano for the initial attack.” “Didn’t you just say you changed?” “I have, but the ‘Ragged Mare’ still has her uses,” she said with a humorless smirk. “They would’ve found us if I hadn’t, or worse alerted Shield. Do you know where he could’ve gone?” “No. Last time I saw him he stabbed me. Ganged up on me and… did my mom survive?” “She’s with Rarity and the others in Ponyville… Silver, how did he do it? EUP have bombed our hives, but never have I seen such complete destruction like that.” “Well, he took back the horn, right? He must’ve found some way to weaponize it. It’s the same fire you burned Gilda with.” “I… remember. I should apologize for all that.” “I agree, but when this is over.” He held his hoof out for hers, using it for support as he shakily rose to his hooves and stood. Alate was careful to keep him steady but eventually Silver managed a few small steps forwards into the sunlight. “Have you heard anything about Abby?” “Nothing, though if I had to guess she’s probably at the mercy of Shield Wall’s demands. Whatever gave him control over a force that large, I’m sure she had something to do with it.” “I hate how you may be right.” The statement left a putrid taste in Silver’s mouth, the discomfort of the thought held back by the warm grace of the sun along his tarnished fur. With a shaking hoof he felt along his side searching for every new scrape and bruise, taking stock of the damage to remind himself just how lucky he felt.  “Silver,” Alate almost whispered. “Bad things have been happening, all across Equestria. If you know anything I need you to tell me.” “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” Silver chuckled. “Cadence must’ve really turned you around if you care so much.” “I’m not a monster, Silver, but I’ve… I’m too old for vengeance.” The last few words lazily leaked from her mouth, but were soon replaced with a small gasp when Silver turned and placed a hoof on her shoulder. “I’m glad to hear that, and believe it or not I’m glad we’re working together. Now, I’d like to go back.” Alate shot him an annoyed glance. “‘Back’?” “To Coltistrano,” he replied coldly. “I need to see it. Please.” “Silver, it’s a ruin, nothing worth exposing ourselves for.” “Please.” His persistence staggered her, trapped in the firm gaze of amber irises, a stare she only ever knew from behind a dark mask. She knew from experience it was futile to defy the stallion. “Fine, fine, we’ll go. But you follow me, understand?” “Thank you. There’ll be supplies we can use at the manor. Once we’re there, if we take time to compare notes we should be able to come up with a plan that doesn’t-” Silver’s words were overtaken by the monstrous growl of his stomach and a wide, fang-filled grin found itself plastered across Alate’s muzzle while Silver choked out a laugh of his own. She stepped over to a series of bags and satchels beside the camp, producing hooffuls of fresh fruit. Alate casually tossed a peach to Silver. Quick as ever, though dulled by the stiffness of his muscles, the fruit evaded Silver’s keen reflexes and smacked firmly against his chest. Laughter and pained grunts joined together as he recovered his first solid meal, joining Alate. — Restraint failed him. His hooves dug deep into the mounds of ash and broken wood littering the streets, discarded belongings hanging from shattered windows, long dried stains of deep maroon just barely peeking out from the darker areas he feared to find. Even in pain his legs slowly lowered him to sit in the ruins of his childhood. The very home he returned to protect, the very home he once saved. A shredded canvas of white painted violently across the colorful memories of his life. He rested there, silent drops striking the sheet of ash. The ashes of Coltistrano. “You were right.” “What?” Alate peered over to Silver, knees in the dirt. “When we fought in Twilight’s Castle, with Shield Wall. You said I failed Darrox.” His words faded as he gazed across the barren streets. “I’ve failed so many more than just him.” Alate digested his words with a firm sigh through her nose. “You aren’t the only one, but no one could live up to him. Not even you.” She took her time in scanning the ruin around her, having only now taken in the scene. Emotion was a scent as familiar to her as the wind, a sensation at the core of her memory, but in the jagged buildings and shattered stone she found nothing. No love, or misery, or even the quick sensation of pain she had become so accustomed to. She stood in horror at the utter blankness of the city, stripped of even its very identity. But her rumination was broken when Silver finally moved, softly limping towards the broken house at the edge of the cliff, soon joining him as they traced the scene of his defeat. His gaze followed a maroon streak trailing towards the house. All he loved, lost. Silver’s somber ruminations ended when he placed his hoof upon the door. Shaky breaths were all he had to push himself against his instincts and advance, leading Alate to the blown open door frame of his once beautiful home. Once inside, they traced the path leading to the study. Crackling sounds came to him as he entered. Silver looked down to find his careful steps had landed on top of a charred picture frame, revealing a face he did not expect as he moved his hoof away. The sketch of Darrox. He lifted the drawing to his face, taking in the details of his master, a small form of solace hiding in the desolate ruin, and motioned out to Alate as she searched the demolished study. “Hey… I think you should have this.” At first dismissive eyes soon locked onto the image of the changeling on the paper, and for a moment Silver saw the quiver of her lip as she took it in both hooves. “This… you drew this?” “Rarity drew it, she’s far better than I am, but I think you need him a little more than I do, right now.” Soft beads of tears welled up along the corners of her eyes, threatening to spill down her chitin-covered face, but she quickly recovered her composure and gently placed the drawing in her saddlebag as Silver stepped to where the fireplace once was. The wall before him was half destroyed with plenty of room for even a wounded pony to squeeze through. With some dedication, and a few pained grunts, he was on the other side and staring down a long, dark staircase before beckoning Alate to join him. Their journey into the dark was a short one, for when Silver stepped onto the familiar stone magical braziers sprang to life, illuminating the undercroft. Some containers were knocked over and pieces of equipment had been scattered across the stone floor. The empty display case had toppled over, leaving shards of glass strewn about, but Silver wasted no time in finding a nearby broom to clear some workspace for both him and Alate, who up until this point could only stare in awe. “Well, here’s my home away from home,” Silver said sheepishly. “And here I thought you were just some kid in a mask.” “I was for a bit,” he chuckled. “But when enough people keep nagging you about little things like ‘preparedness’ and ‘personal safety’, it pays to keep them happy.” Alate scoffed at his wit, watching as he dusted off a large table to cover it in what boxes of supplies remained intact.  “Alright,” Silver began. “It looks like the undercroft is mostly unscathed. Must not have found it, thank Celestia. I have enough alchemical components to restock some of my bombs and tools, but they’ll have to be rationed, and I saw the vault under the lobby floor was blown into, meaning they’ve stolen my money. Thankfully, most of it is down here.” “He robbed you?” “Out of spite, if nothing else, but even Abby’s wealth has its limits. Shield needs to restock somehow. Here, take one of these.” Silver tossed her a smooth object, slightly warm and adorned with a glowing blue sigil, humming with power. “That sending stone will help us stay in contact if we’re separated. Now, you’ve been out in the world, how bad is it out there?” “Soldiers are moving all across the country conducting an investigation. Ponyville, Cloudsdale, anywhere that could be at risk, and a lot of ponies are scared.” “What about these changelings, the ones you encountered? What did they look like?” “Plain, standard issue, not even gold like the Canterlot guard. There are only a hoofful of them out there, but they’re always in commanding positions. Definitely trying to blend in with the standard military. They’re young, though, undisciplined, but they attacked me on sight. Must have orders to kill me, too.” “If that’s true it’ll make moving around Equestria difficult. I’m sure the entire country is in chaos.” “I haven’t been too far beyond Ponyville, but I know ponies are scared, and these soldiers are moving freely on public roads. The real EUP passes them by so long as they control themselves, but I’ve seen what the changelings do when no one’s looking. They’re thugs.” “Damn him,” Silver spat. “So, we have an occupying force inside Equestria, one the EUP will do nothing about, but can hide enough ponies and munitions to destroy a city with no notice. This is Shield’s work, for sure, but something doesn’t add up.” “Does it need to?” “How is he doing it? That’s the real question. We’re talking about an alliance with changelings, changelings who would rather kill him yet are supposedly under his control, but also undetected by the EUP. Abby couldn’t authorize something like that, only the General’s Board could.” “Bribery and force are his trademarks, Silver, you know this.” “Yes, but by what means? Let’s assume Shield found some way to appeal to the changelings, or at least enough of them to help in his scheme, he would need something to offer them. Some opportunity, but what? You can’t bribe or threaten the changeling hives, and disloyalty is even less likely, so there must be something more…” Alate gave a long sigh at Silver’s display, walking over to shoot him a warm smile. “You’re so much like him.” “Who?” “Darrox, all your thinking and pondering. You have no idea how often he’d be on the hunt for a mystery, acting just like you are. It’s… comforting, knowing he isn’t really gone.” Silver smiled, placing his hoof over hers. “It’s good to hear, especially now, but we won’t learn anything hiding in this cave, and I’m hardly a Ghost without the cloak. You don’t happen to know where it is, do you?” “My guess is Shield took it. It’s a trophy, too valuable to just discard.” “So we find Shield, find the source of this nightmare, and find the cloak.” “We should start by tailing the recon groups scattered throughout this area, squeeze enough of them and they'll lead us to Shield.” “Not too hard, though, right?” Silver’s smile slowly fell. “They aren’t the ones to blame.” “You really believe that, even after limping through the crater that was your home? Those soldiers will just hurt more ponies if we don’t put them down.” “You have had your fill of killing,” he growled. Even wounded and without a mask, Silver still managed to force the changeling back a step, his amber eyes catching the light of the dancing fires around them. “Then what happens when we find him? He’s gone too far this time. The queen must be helping him, and she bends to no one. Are you ready to do what truly matters?” This made Silver falter. For him, the raging battle was only yesterday, and the ache of the wound in his gut still burned within him, forever carved into his memory by the wicked grin of his enemy. Silver’s harsh stare slowly waned as he returned to the table while Alate, with a gentler tone, continued. “I’ll do things your way, because I owe you, but you know better than I what Shield Wall has done. You know the faces that go with the ashes outside. When we find him, find her, and we have them cornered, what are you going to do? Fear isn’t enough anymore.” Silver stared into the middle distance, losing focus. Alate’s words dug into his mind like needles with as much pain as each step he took across the broken city just above them both. He felt ill. The very notion Alate suggested, after all he worked for, was a betrayal of his own spirit, hovered around his head like a vengeful phantasm, the sum total of a life of pain and struggle. Shudders coursed through him as his mind still grasped at hard fought principles, but the ash still clung tight to his hooves, and he could feel it sink deeper and deeper into some dark, hidden pit of his own screaming soul, let loose by the wound in his belly. When he finally breathed he laughed. Cold, dark, sharp, rising up from the broken part of his soul and echoing throughout the ruined undercroft. “They don’t know what fear is… not yet.”