//------------------------------// // Act 1: Hero-The Candidates // Story: The Winds of Redemption // by RagingPonyRider //------------------------------// "...and I left Bladewolf my-I mean, your sword. If he’s truly loyal to Raiden, he would have gone to Pakistan with him to finish the job."   Rodrigues's face twisted in annoyance. "So you're telling me that you died in battle and gave him your sword just because you were too pathetic to do it yourself?!"   His cup shattered in his hand for what felt like the dozenth time. "I know, and I second-guessed myself. Wasting two years on something, and I doubted myself on the whole-"   Sam shut up when a cup collided on his head, raining its content and broken glass on his hair. He did not need to look up to know Rodrigues was towering before him.   "That's because you have been a complete wreck ever since I died! You had your life ready for you, and you wasted it all on your childish vendetta!" Sam would not be surprised if he flipped the table on him as well. "I gave you the Murasama not so you could use it, but for you to remember me by and pass it onto your descendants, not so you could turn it into a...a damn lightsaber!"   It would have been funny if the situation had not been so serious. A voice in Sam's head kept telling him it was a dream and he did not have to listen to any of this, but he steeled himself, knowing that whether he wanted it or not, his subconscious has recreated his father for a reason.   "I went against all of your expectations. But I was too far in to stop. I knew that when I escaped Brazil to train instead of going to college or start a family like you said I should."   Sam expected his father to hit him with his wooden sword again, or toss the table aside and maybe even snatch the cup in his hand and smash it over his head. However, he only heard a sigh as Rodrigues sat back down, laying his cup back on the table surprisingly gently..   His subconscious truly knew how to fuck with him: the disappointing silence was easily ten times worse than any amount of screaming or abuse.   "I said this before, but I'll say it again: you're a little monster, you know that?"   "Yeah, I know. You've been telling me that every practice." Sam kept still, letting the alcohol dry over his hair and torso. He has not moved an inch, but he knew if this was real, his body would be aching from tensing up and his legs would be sore. Another sigh. Sam kept his head down, lest Rodrigues see his bared teeth. Every sigh felt like a stab through his throat ."Well, I couldn't expect any less. You were never good at keeping promises."   Sam heard another sip and clack of glass. He blinked again and his cup disappeared from his grasp.He looked up only to have his face meet with Rodrigues's sword and sent flying back. He awoke from his stupor and balanced himself as he checked his face to see if it was disfigured in any way.   Nope, scar's still there. But now...   "You've disappointed me for the last time, Samuel." He used his name. It was a sure sign of him serious. "You want to die that badly, then I'll kill you right now, cretino!" He charged again, his sword ready to strike.   Instinctively, Sam pulled out a sword out of thin air and tried to block.   Wait, why does he look like-shit!   But it was too late for him to properly block it. Rodrigues had his sword positioned to perform one of Rodrigues New Shadow School's cornerstone techniques: iai.   Sam expected this, but not his father's sword to flash steel.   He felt no pain, but he fell back, dropping his weapon and clutching his left eye. He did not feel anything but blood dripping down his face.   "You're not the only one with new toys, boy!"   His father loomed over him like an executioner with his blade raised. Rodrigues held his sword with all sense of control or precision forgotten. He dragged his feet and his sword behind him, the blade scraping along the floor.   Sam removed his hand from his face and looked at the blood, now dripping onto the floor. He wanted to fight back, charge at him, pick up his sword again and defend himself, but he remained still, realizing the absurdity of it all. “Don’t screw with me.” He started laughing, not caring if the white void was slowly darkening or that his bleeding has stopped. He saw Rodrigues take a step to slice him in half, so he quickly rolled back far beyond Rodrigues’s reach. “You’re just some guilt I left buried in my head a long time ago,” he said as he felt his hand grab onto a familiar sheath. He got to his feet, drawing his red Murasama and getting into position “This isn’t some major revelation. I’m over you. Now get out of my head!” With that, he charged. Rodrigues saw him coming and sidestepped. Sam turned around fast enough to block a strike to his vulnerable back, being pushed back a few paces as Rodrigues went on the aggressive. “You know how this will end.” He sidestepped again, this time attacking from Sam’s left. “It’s the same as before!” Sam blocked again. “You could never beat me, and you know it!” “You’re not my father,” Sam growled. “You’re just some wild thought.” Sam swung, missing again. “He’s been dead for twelve years. I’m done mourning!” “If that’s the case, you should be able to kill me easy!” Rodrigues cackled. Blocking another strike, he suddenly let go of his sword. For a fraction of a second Sam hesitated, giving Rodrigues the chance to close the distance and grab his arms. Sam did not even have time to curse as he was knocked off his feet and his back hit the floor. Rodrigues’s legs were placed across his chest and neck, choking him while restraining his right arm across Rodrigues’s chest. An armbar. “You never did take jiu-jitsu training too seriously.” A crack from his elbow made Sam gasp. He managed to turn his head to see his arm bent in the opposite direction. For once, he was thankful he was dreaming or he would have been screaming in pain. After a short struggle he managed to squirm his way out of Rodrigues’s grip. “Yeah, and your size was never one of your advantages.” With some effort, Sam realigned his arm with a wet pop. He saw both swords lying on the ground, too far away to pick up without giving Rodrigues an opening. The father must have realized this as well, as he immediately charged at Sam. Now would be a really good time for a sword to pop into my hand! Alas, nothing was ever that easy, even in a dream. Both Sam and Rodrigues was getting nowhere. Despite his earlier bravado, Sam had no confidence going hand-to-hand against an opponent that was obviously more skilled than him. He had to make a move before he gave Rodrigues another opening. He did not have to wait long. Rodrigues launched a combo of kicks, aiming for his chest and head. He has seen the sequence many times and he knew just when to counter it with a grapple of his own. He grabbed the heel of the flying foot and pushed forward, causing Rodrigues to lose balance and fall to the ground. He could not help but laugh at seeing his father’s head colliding with the floor, but he hastily retraced his steps to his Murasama. Even if this was not a dream, he wanted to finish his fight with how they always finished their spars. Thankfully, even in the darkness, he found his sword and sheath. As if on cue, Rodrigues has risen to his feet with sword in hand and its sheath materializing in the other. Cursing dream logic, he sheathed his weapon. Rodrigues mimicked, smirking as he did. “You were always a fan of iai, Sam,” he sneered. “But like I said, you know how this will end up.” “Yeah, with your head at my feet.” This time, Sam would not be using his sheath’s trigger function. Whether or not he defeats Rodrigues, it did not matter. Sweat was beginning to reappear on Sam. His body was begging for release, to strike. He was losing his grip on his sword from the perspiration, but he remained still. The instant Rodrigues slipped would be when he pulled his sword. Damn it, it always came down to this. No, don’t think like that! This is my dream and I do what I want. I beat him before. and I can definitely do it here! But do you really want to beat him? At this point, Rodrigues must have read his mind. He swiftly pounced and withdrew his sword, aiming for the head. Sam was petrified but his brain was still screaming at him to move. He never had to. The sound of an oscillating HF blade filled the air as a gargantuan machete pierced Rodrigues. He immediately dropped his sword and helplessly looked down at the piece of metal jutting out of his chest. “Come on, Sam!” a heavy Texan voice rang in his ears. “Don’t keep us waiting!” Sam blinked and the black void was replaced with roaring flames. It was enough to snap Sam out of his stupor, drop his sword and shield his eyes at the sudden brightness. He jumped back, avoiding the flames as much as he could. The giant machete shook off Rodrigues’s corpse off and revealed. Sundowner along with the remaining Winds of Destruction. Sam was too preoccupied with his father’s corpse bursting into flames to pay them any heed, though. “Aw, what’s the matter?” Mistral goaded next to Sundowner, her numerous arms swaying to and fro like tentacles. “Does the little samurai miss his dear père?” Monsoon appeared behind her and kicked the burning body towards Sam. “Get over it, Sam. You knew this would happen.” Sam retrieved his sword and sheath and looked back at the trio. “What are you doing here, Sundowner? And why did you go and do that?” he asked heatedly, pointing his sword at the still-burning corpse. Sundowner chuckled. “We just saved your ass, and that’s the thanks I get? Come on. We got work to do.” Sam checked his surroundings again and noticed the fire was getting closer. He snarled at the burly cyborg before throwing his sword at his feet. “Get out of my head, all of you. I’m staying here.” “This ain’t a choice, Sam.” Regardless, Sam turned his back on him and slowly walked to the still burning cadaver. He knelt down and cradled the body in his hands, not caring if his own body was set ablaze. “Suit yourself. Your dream after all, right?” Sundowner laughed. Sam felt his heavy steps shaking the floor but he did not budge. The fire was spreading to his neck now, but he only hugged the corpse closer to him. This is how it should be. This is what I should have done. At least maybe now, I’ll finally wake- “ENOUGH!” A surprisingly feminine voice shook the air. A strong gale extinguished the fires and Rodrigues’s body, now burnt to ashes, scattered into nothingness. Sam clenched his fists as if trying to grab onto whatever remains he could. He felt Sundowner and the Winds’ presence disappear as well, so when he stood up and turned around, he saw the last thing he wanted: a pony. Luna relaxed as the cyborgs popped out of existence. Compared to a pony’s, it was not easy entering a human’s dreamscape, let alone manipulating it, but she decided she had seen enough and took action before things got messier. "That was close. A few more seconds, and that brute would have-" “Who and what the hell are you?” Luna turned to see Sam looming over her. His fists were clenched and they looked ready to punch. “What. Are you. Doing. In my head?” She recoiled at the venom in his voice. “How can you not recog-we had just saved your life and that is how-” “Again,” he cut her off. “What. Are you. Doing. In my head?!” Luna stepped back but it was pointless. She did not expect him to react like this. “I am here to converse with you. For a dream to turn into a nightmare, and for you to dream so lucidly. You must have had these bouts repeatedly, have you not?” She knew it was a weak excuse for the indignant human and mentally cursed her merciful side, but she was right in her assumption. Sam’s fingers twitched, eager to wrap themselves around her neck. “I didn’t need a shrink in my first life, and I don’t need a goddamn horse now.” He spat the word like something stuck in his teeth. “Get out. Now.” “Please, Samuel, we only wish to talk-” “I don’t. Do I have to kill you to make you understand?!” He reached for her throat, but she expected him. She transformed into purple smoke and slipped through his fingers, only to reappear behind him. “Do you not remember, Samuel?” She transformed again when a foot flew to her face. “You had fainted, after your bout with our guards.You should be thanking us. You would have died if we had not brought you in.” Being attacked twice in a dreamscape left her beyond irritated. She had to keep her anger in check, lest she inadvertently altered his dream beyond either of their control. “I never asked to be brought back!” Sam’s anger has peaked and his roar was deafening, causing Luna to grab her ears. Sam took the opportunity to grab her throat and slam her into the wooden floor, eliciting a grunt. “You should have left me to die!” “We agree...but…” “But what!?” His metal hand loosened its grip and she continued, gasping for breath. “If any of the Winds of Destruction are as dangerous as you, and they were to endanger our citizens, we do not possess a means of effectively combating-” “I don’t give a damn about them!” He threatened to snap her neck again but Luna was now just as furious. She regained enough focus during her speech to return to smoke. Startled, Sam did a double-take as the smoke grew until he could see nothing through it. “We gave you your battle. We saved your life,” a voice from the darkness spoke up. “You tell us you owe nothing for that, Samue?l!” Sam snarled at her and felt his Murasama in his hand. As much as he wished to swipe at the smoke to vent his frustration, he knew she was right. He wanted a fight, he got it, and it was his own carelessness that he wound up unconscious. “So what?” He withdrew his sword and tried his best to look through the encompassing fog. “That gives you permission to invade my dream?!” With a roar, he plunged his weapon into the fog, smirking when he felt something. He noticed the fog disappearing and grinned wider at his handiwork. The red blade was lodged firmly in Luna’s throat. Her eyes showed nothing but utter horror as she tried to form words, her mouth opening and closing like a fish. Rivulets of blood poured out of her maw and Sam dug his sword deeper into her neck until he nose almost touched her muzzle. Luna knew whatever damage she suffered in a dreamscape would not be reflected on her physical body, but the pain still felt very real. “H-h-h-ow…” “My dream, my rules.” Luna could feel Sam’s grip tighten and decided enough was enough. “And for trespassing on some very private property…” Smiling the widest he has ever did, he slashed her neck open. To his disappointment, she only disappeared in a puff of smoke. At this point, the fog has cleared completely and Sam found himself returned to his family dojo. Well, at least she’ll be out of my hair for a while now. He looked around his dreamscape and found the table. He tosses away his Murasama and picked up his glass. It was still filled to the brim with a sweet, purple liquid. He smiled and closed his eyes and drained it. The next thing he knew, Sam was lying on his back, struggling to breathe. So much for my grape juice. Where the hell am I now? He craned his head left and right, still half-asleep, but he saw what looked like large stands carrying IV bags. Their lines stretched down to his bed and Sam gasped when he realized where they led to. “Shit.” He gingerly felt around his neck and discovered at least three needles penetrating the skin. He slowly turned his head and inspected his room. His gut dropped when he realized: his sword was gone. “Shit.” “So you’re awake?” Just as he grabbed one of his needles, he immediately removed his hand and looked around to find the speaker. In front of him, through several metal bars, was a hooded figure. The voice was muffled but Sam could tell it was female. Sam rubbed his eyes again and groaned. “If you would be so polite, and I’ll only ask once: where am I and how long was I out for?” “Not even a hello, or a “Who are you?”?” Sam thought he heard the slightest of scoffs, but the pony continued. “You’re in the castle dungeons, or as everypony else calls it, the basement. You’ve been asleep for over a day; it’s about 2 o’clock right now.” Sam squinted when he looked at the torch behind her. “It’s nighttime? And you were watching me the whole time, because?” Nightingale huffed. “I sleep here. Or I would, If you had not taken my room. Besides, I’m more nocturnal than most ponies.” She dragged into his view a large sack. She pulled out a potato from it, exposing her gray coat. Before she pulled down her mask, a loud grumble from Sam made her look at him. “Hungry?” Sam grimaced, knowing she was smiling behind her mask. “I haven’t eaten anything for 24 hours but IV fluids. Anyone would be.” With a groan, he pulled himself into a sitting position and sighed in defeat. “Mind tossing me one?” She pointed to something beside him, and Sam found a pink box tied up with a white ribbon. “Ms. Pie insisted the doctors to leave you something, in case you woke up early.” He groaned at the memory of the pink mare. Faster than a speeding bullet and just as annoying. Nevertheless, he freed the box and pulled out from it something that made him cringe: an equally feminine plate of cake. “You’re kidding me.” Nightingale had to hold back a chuckle as she lowered her mask. “Too girly?” Sam could not hold back a smile. “That, and the fact she forgot a fork.” He picked up the slice and bit off a bit of bread. “You’ve a name?” “Nightingale,” she muttered through a mouthful of potato. “You a guard or something?” “Most ponies don’t even know I exist, but I help the princesses from time to time.” “You going to report me, then?” Sam took another bite, his smile gone. They both felt the atmosphere shift but casually carried on. Nightingale finished her potato and pulled out a carrot. “Maybe.” Sam glared at the carrot slowly disappearing behind her hood. Its crunch and her suddenly methodical way of chewing rubbed him the wrong way. “Mind taking off that ridiculous cloak? People might start thinking you’re a cliché bad guy.” The carrot stopped mid-chew. The vegetable stuck out like a cigar and she looked at the ground as Sam put the now-empty plate away. “If I do, will you answer some questions I have?” Nightingale took one last bite before throwing the half-eaten carrot back into the bag. She placed her mask over her mouth again before facing him. Sam glowered. “That mask too. I’m not a patient guy. I’ll be making my way out of here soon.” Clenching his teeth, he reached for a needle in his neck and pulled it ou.. “I’m not in the mood to answer any questions, but maybe I’ll change my mind if you shared and I get to ask some questions of my own.” As he continued pulling out the IV needles, Nightingale looked at her bag. This was her breakfast, lunch and dinner, and she knew she was going to need it for the day, but nearly everything about Sam roused her curiosity. “Damn.” Sam jerked out the last needle and got started on his suit. “Never thought falling asleep in a suit would be this uncomfortable.” He reached to the nape of his neck and pressed it, releasing a sound akin to a soda can opening. “Ooooh, much better.” Nightingale’s eyes widened behind her glasses. The suit stretched like rubber as Sam pulled it, unlatching it from his cybernetic pectoral and revealing his torso. The suit hung shriveled around his waist like snakeskin. “What in Equestria…” Nightingale breathed out. Her first question was obvious, but before she could say a word of it, Sam coughed, holding out an open hand to her. She groaned quietly but reached into her bag for a fresh potato and threw it through the bars. He immediately scarfed it down, skin and all. “What in Equestria happened to you?” “Hey, hey.” He pointed a finger at her. “Hood and mask off. And toss me another, would ya?” Nightingale opened her mouth to object, but Sam’s glared told her he was serious. “Why would you want to see my face?” He got off the bed and stretched, groaning as bones popped into place. “How can I trust you to keep this conversation confidential if you won’t even trust me with your face? You can trust me not to tell the princesses about this. I hate them too much to tell them anything.” He walked up to the bars and sat down so he could see her glasses. “So glasses, mask, and hood off.” Nightingale continued to stare at the ground, avoiding his gaze. Even with the cover of night, it felt awkward to practically bare herself in front of him. “What’s the matter?” Sam continued. “All the ponies here seem to walk around naked anyways. Or at least those girls did.” “You mean the Elements of Harmony?” Sighing, she tossed him another potato but refrained from looking him in the face. “Most ponies do wear clothing, but rarely for casual events. Though they do not cover their entire body like your suit.” She grabbed her hood and pulled back, revealing her messy mane and excessive fur. The shades came off next and he squinted at her small, red eyes. When she moved her hoof to her mask, she looked at Sam, anxious. “Do I really?” “Look, I’m not that judgmental of a guy. Pretty, ugly, fat, skinny, man, woman, I killed them all. Looks mean nothing.” Sam was getting more and more interested in her by the minute. He was practically leaning against the bars at this point. Nightingale’s eyes widened. Recovering, she sighed for the last time and, tearing her mask away and placed it next to her glasses. “There! Happy now?” Sam bent down to his knees and, for the lack of a more appropriate term, gawked at her face. Her entire muzzle was covered with scratches and scars. Her heated snarling gave him a clear view of her mouthful of fangs. He leaned closer, his face pressing against the bars, and saw specks of yellow and orange from her potatoes and carrots. Nightingale felt her face burn from his ogling and turned away before pulling out an apple and angrily chewing on it. “You saw it, right? Will you answer some questions now?” For good measure, she handed him a long cucumber from the bag, which he took without taking his eyes off her. “What in hell happened to you?” “I believe that was my question to you,” she spat back. Sam scowled, but he pulled himself back from the bars and sat down cross-legged. He chewed on his cucumber as he cleared his throat. “Right, my own scars.” He finished his vegetable and traced some of them. “This one, I got from a training session when I was fourteen, this one when I was twelve-” “Wait, wait a minute,” she cut him short. “All of them are from training?” “With my father, yeah. Well, except for this-” he pointed at his arm “-and this.” He pointed at his abdomen where a large brown mark overlapped several smaller scars. “This was the stab wound that killed me.” He smiled lightly at the recollection. Of course Raiden would be the one to do me in. No one else could. “Killed you?!” Nightingale choked on her carrot. It took her several moments before clearing her windpipe. “Oh that’s right. Princess Celestia mentioned you were resurrected after you were brought here.” “How about you?” Sam managed to fit his left arm through the bars to grab ahold of her bag and helped himself to another potato before Nightingale pressed a hoof down. She rubbed her muzzle gingerly before responding. “An accident years ago. From the Everfree Forest.” “...” “That’s it? Nothing about what actually did that to you?” “Just some wild animals that thought they found an easy lunch.” She licked her lips. “I fought my way through and now live here.” Sam frowned, but kept chewing on his potato as she sat on her flank. She kept herself reserved, however. Enticing him with food helped, but she noticed his chewing slowing down. “Why did you pick a fight with the guards?” To her surprise, he broke out laughing. “Bored out of my mind. I’m not exactly someone that’s used to sitting still for more than a day. Also, those ponies are screwed if the Winds show up. Speaking of which,” he said as he peered closer at Nightingale, making her step back. “What are you? No wait!” He raised hand. “Weird eyes, fangs. Let me guess: vampony?” It was Nightingale’s turn to laugh. “How do you know that name?” Her normally quiet and raspy voice improved as she laughed along with him. “But no. That’s the name everypony came to after centuries’ worth of degeneration. The proper term is “dhampyr”, but the name has undergone numerous translations and misspellings.” Sam rubbed his beard. “If so, why don’t you correct them? You’re probably one of the only left in this world. If that pegacorn knows about you, doesn’t she get you to at least eat properly?” She scoffed. “I hardly have an identity in this castle, much less the rest of Equestria. As for my diet-” she licked her lips “-eating meat and drinking blood is less than accepted among ponies. Sure, there are the bat ponies would possess similar teeth as mine, but even they eat the same food as normal ponies. This way, I do not rouse much suspicion, even with my...attire.” “Then why don’t you just go to some forest and kill something?” he asked heatedly. “You can’t just waste your-” As soon as he said it, his stomach growled. Groaning, he rubbed his belly. “God, I’m hungry. No offense, but veggies just doesn’t do it for me.” Nightingale licked her lips and passed him another potato. “I’m used to it. I’ve lived here for over a decade and it’s safe to say my appetite’s shrunken over the years. I’m not wasting away, Mr. Rodrigues. This is the only way I’ll survive in Equestria now.” “Whoa, hey.” Sam raised a hand. “First of all, Mr. Rodrigues is my father. Second, animals don’t change their diet just because they force their bodies to accept whatever they’re shoving down their throats. Third, didn't the princess say something about having meat for some griffins that are coming over?” “Ah, yes. The meat has yet to arrive, although Princess Celestia has placed a private order for you.” Sam nodded and raised his organic hand. No matter how much vegetables he ate, he still could not flex his muscles as well as he could. “If they can’t take me back home, then I’m not wasting anymore time here.” He quickly swiped two more items-a potato and, to his surprise, a lump of cheese-before getting to his feet. “Wait!” Nightingale got to her hooves as well. “I still have a couple more questions!” “Then hurry up and ask ‘em.” Sam slipped his arm through his suit and reattached it to his cybernetics. “I’m getting out of this joint even if it kills me.” Nightingale could tell at the state he was in and what he has shown, he was not joking. “Why do you kill? You said you worked as a mercenary, but you don’t seem like someone that kill for money. So why?” “So now you get to the knitty-gritty?” Sam smirked as he pressed his neck and the suit clung to his skin again. He took a quick bite of the cheese before snapping one of the IV needles off its hose. “I mentioned this before, but my father and I practiced swordplay. He meant it to be a way to defend myself from thugs and gangsters back home.” He got on one knee and started picking at the cell door’s keyhole. “So how did it turn out this way, you ask? My father made a living teaching swordplay to people. One of his students eventually killed him trying to get at a family heirloom. I got away, trained for a couple more years, came back and killed the bastard. Turns out I’m pretty good at killing people. Sure, I  could have gotten an official education and gone to college, but that’s hard when you don’t have money.” A click was heard. Sam pulled out the needle and grimaced. “Anything else? Truth be told, you’re the only one I told this, so I’d appreciate it if you would keep this a secret from others, especially those pegacorns.” He snickered. “Just now, one of them tried to pry into my head, and I slit her throat for her troubles.” "So basically, you kill people because you want to? Because you’re good at it?” She was torn between disgusted and understanding. A member of his family died, and he treats it like yesterday’s weather? “Sound like you found your cutie mark.” “My what?” Two more clicks, two more broken needles. “Shit. Running out of picks. How about you?” He stared at the last chance at escape in his hands. “You must have had a family. Where are they now?” This was the moment Nightingale was afraid of. She licked her lips, trying to calm herself, but her stomach felt like it was freezing into a block. She could always lie, but it was apparent Sam was no fool and a single hesitation felt enough to tip him off. “They’re dead. I’m probably the only dhampyr in Equestria, maybe even the world.” Hanging her head, she turned away from him. Sam scoffed. “Small world.” Nightingale jerked her head back to him. She received pity, regret, or even silence from whoever she told this secret to, but not a sarcastic remark. The cold feeling that froze her gut before was replaced with hot blood prickling her skin. Sam felt her eyes digging into his head and took the needle out of the keyhole to look at her. “Look. I don’t have any family either. I got over it a long time ago. Do you even know what happened to the other dhampyrs in the first place?” Of course she knew. How could she forget? Nighty, get out of here! We’ll take care of them! Find Princess Celestia! Why?! Why would you seek refuge from that damnable pony? She’s the entire reason why we live like we do! Why do you get in our way? She shivered at the memory, ice reforming in her stomach. Sam shook his head and returned to the lock. “Alright, fine. I wouldn't want to remember too much about my father dying either.” As soon as he said it, a click was heard. Sam pulled out his last broken needle and seethed a swear before throwing the improvised pick to a wall. “Tch.” He looked up at the high ceiling and saw a window with moonlight streaming through. It the window itself was not too small, he may have been able to jump off the narrow walls and escape through it. “Damn it!” In anger, he punched the door, causing it to blast outwards. Nightingale leapt into the air in reflex and spread her wings to catch herself. Sam was still sitting down but the surprise on his face was expressed with such dumbstruck Nightingale let out a hearty laugh. He slowly got to his feet. “Are you telling me,” he whispered, volume growing by the syllable. “the door was open the WHOLE TIME?!” He looked up, narrowing his eyes. “And you knew?” Nightingale could not help but snicker. “I’ll take that as a “yes”, then.” Sam patted the dust from his legs and walked out, his eyes still stuck on her. “You’re really not going to stop me? Or report me to your princess?” He focused especially on her newly revealed wings. They were beating like a hummingbird’s, yet it was not enough and she landed on her hooves in a few seconds. They looked like a bat’s, with thin stretches of muscle flexing pathetically. Nightingale caught him staring and retrieved her cloak, putting it on clumsily. “What? Never saw wings before?” Sam shook his head. “Those wings look horrible. No way you can fly on those. You sure you’ve been eating properly?” “Dhampyr wings are not meant for long-distance flight and I have no use for them in the castle when I can walk.” She turned around and picked up her sack of food. “As for my diet, I told you this is all I need.” “You know that’s a lie.” Sam leaned back on the cell bars and crossed his arms. “That mouthful of fangs prove you’re a carnivore. All those scars on your mouth weren't from some accident, were they? I have experience with scars and all of yours are at different healing periods. Either you get into a lot of accidents or you’re biting yourself for blood. Do you even realize how often you licked your lips during our talk? When he did not receive an answer, he sighed and walked to the door that led to the hall. “Never mind. It’s not exactly my place to pry on your private life, is it?” He reached the handle but stopped himself. “By the way, how old are you?” Sam was fortunate Nightingale put her mask on or she would bared her mouth of fangs at him. “What? My age?” “Yeah.” He turned around, a serious look on his face. He could not see her expression due to her putting her mask and glasses, but he knew she was furious at his deduction. “Thirty-four. I’ve been killing and cleaning for over a decade, give or take a few months. And you?” After moment of silence, she relented, knowing his reaction from his smile. “Seventeen. I’ve been killing in hunts for two years before living here.” She expected a scoff like last time, but his expression did not change aside from his eyes narrowing. It only somehow enraged her even more. With a sigh, he bowed his head. “Thanks for the food. Take care.” With that, he closed the door behind him. Nightingale stared at the door for a few more moments, half-expecting Sam to burst back in for whatever reason. Seething, she stared at the empty cell. Better find somewhere else to hang low before some guard finds me here. But that human. Where’s he going to go now? Escape the castle? Find his weapon? He just woke up. His body couldn’t have recovered that quickly. He’s one to talk about taking care of oneself. “I’m fine. My body’s fine.” To prove it, she punched the wall with all her force. A shock like lightning ran through her bones and the slightest of whimpers escaped her. She clenched not only her teeth but her eyes in pain, squeezing out a stream of tears. “Damn...damn it!” “Damn...damn!” Bright Shield stomped through the empty courtyard under the light of Luna’s moon. It has only been twenty-four hours since he relinquished his armor. By morning, the now Prince Shining Armor would arrive as the replacement until the end of his suspension. The worst of all, Princess Celestia had not specified when Bright would be back in command. Oh Celestia why? When Shining Armor gets here, he’s going to be so mad! No, not mad, disappointed! Only a few months, and he’s already gotten a message from the princess about my first screw-up! “Okay, okay, okay, calm down, Shield. Calm...down.” After several deep breaths, he shivered at the now suddenly cold wind. “Think with your head, not your guts. I just let my emotions get to me is all. All those taunts at the Royal Guard, me, the princess. I had it coming.” But damn… He rubbed his chest. Bandaged covered practically his entire barrel and it took all of his concentration to not scratch himself. After a good night’s rest and some unicorn medic magic, they managed to mend the bones and most other internal damage. However, no magic nor potion could replace natural recovery. His nerves and bones were still sensitive and, despite warning from most ponies, he forewent a cast and chose bandages for mobility. “What in Tartarus was that? Felt like a buck from Rumbler during training.” He gingerly rubbed his stomach before looking up at the moon. “Well, at least that human’s going to be hospitalized for a long time.” He sighed. After Celestia heard the Ponyville mayor’s testimony, she deemed Sam innocent, but far from safe. She wanted to keep him inside the castle until she could figure out what to do with him and would talk with him further once he awoke. He turned his head to the scenery. The various statues and pillars were back in place and their shadows gave them the eery feeling he was being watched. That combined with the occasional wind was enough for him to return to the castle. Alright. I’m all cooled down now. I’m just glad she let me stay in the barracks. Hope that human stays in bed for as long as possible, or I’m going to PuT hIm BaCk In ThEre. “Wait, what?” Every hair of his coat stood on end as he turned his head in all direction. Was it a voice, though? It sounded like it was in my head, but telepathy’s supposed to be powerful magic, and it didn’t sound like any of the princesses, either. When nothing but the rustling grass was heard, he sighed in relief and marched to the entrance. “Phew. I thought I was going mad for a min-” You are not. Immediately, his insides felt like lead. Nevertheless, he reflexively turned around and primed his horn. “Who’s there? Show yourself!” I already have. You just have not found me. “Discord? Is that you?” he snarled. Everypony knew of his mischievous nature and tendency to confuse others with his magic. He remembered being told of his involvement with Sam, but he never thought Discord would fall this far after his reformation. No. I am far from a spirit like him. But like he was, I too am petrified in this garden. The windchill forgotten, he eyed at every statues around him. Any one of them could simply be another spirit waiting to get the jump on him. “So you were watching the fight? Who are you? What do you want from me?” You harbor a great hatred, fueled by sorrow. It lurks deep within you, yet you suppress it. That is, until your bout with the creature let you tap into its power. “Quit speaking like Princess Luna and tell me where you are!” Behind you. Bright silently gasped and whipped around. Towering above him was an impressive statue of a wolf howling at the moon. The animal dwarfed over him and would likely have pounced at him if it were not a statue. Calming down, he inspected the pillar it rested on, but could not find a plaque or any label. “Who are you?” He gasped when the wolf’s eyes glowed. I have no name. However, your...animosity towards that creature deserves interest. “The creature?” Bright’s brain was now screaming at him to return to the barracks and forget this ever happened but his legs remained glued. “What of him?” What indeed? I sensed your rage towards him and you have produced formidable results. He did not like to admit it, but it was true. “So what?” You wish to fight him once again, and more importantly, triumph. I can help you. He scoffed. “Sorry, but my parents told me not to talk with strange statues.” You decline? What would you do if he decides to attack your fellow ponies some other place? He faced the statue again and scoffed. “He’s escaped once already. It won’t happen again. Not with Shining Armor here.” How can you be so certain? He incapacitate dozens of your guards unarmed. What would happen if he were not so merciful? Now he was getting fidgety. The combination of the human and his “HF blade” was terrifying to think about. Everypony in the hospital wing agreed that they were fortunate he did not draw his weapon during the fight. “Even if the guards can’t take him, the princesses would not-” Ha! The princesses? Are you, the captain of the Royal Guard, planning to depend on them for safety? They have allowed him to fight you, beat you to the ground, and now they give him refuge in the castle. Is this your idea of justice? He bared his teeth, hoping to frighten the voice in his head. “It’s not my place to judge their decisions-” You do not care if their decision ends with your friends, your fellow guards, and even you dead? “Enough of this!” he snarled and walked heatedly back to the door. He needed much sleep and maybe a bottle of cider to clear his head before he did something he was going to regret. He would report to Princess Celestia in the morning. Think well. You have potential, but it is not something that can be achieve with temperance. You need a guide. You know perfectly well that human, that creature, does does not belong here after what he did and what he has proven capable of. You do not want another disaster due to your incompetence, your weakness. I can help you, but you need to help me help you. Despite the statue’s warning. Bright marched unabated. For extra emphasis, he slammed the door behind him. No matter. I will await your response. And if you do not accept my offer, there are others in this castle that will.