I feel oddly at peace in the darkened city around me, almost like a part of me has been craving it. As Joy and I gallop from alleyway to alleyway, my mood keeps growing brighter. The old familiar burn in my legs is a welcome departure from the dullness that had set over in the last few days; it reminds me of the old days—the good parts of them, at least. While I had been little more than a brainwashed pawn in some sick chess game back then, I still had believed in my work. I was so utterly fooled into believing the greatest of lies and unaware that my work furthered the goals of monsters that it sickens me now. What a bitterly nostalgic feeling. I wonder if this is how reformed cons feel?

I’ve long since supplanted the old bloodlust and zeal with a brighter, more “morally sound” set of ideals—ideals I know are backed by true virtues that I can never lose sight of—the wicked need to be punished, and I’ve volunteered for the job. Still, I can’t shake the feeling that I’m back to being some pawn in a far larger game of chess.

Joy and I aren’t the only ones enjoying the night; there’s something else out there, wicked and vile. It tracks us down like a Diamond Bloodhound, dashing through pools of shadow like a timberwolf on the hunt, and emerging into the dim moonlight only for the faintest of instants before once again vanishing into the murkiness like a windigo. I don’t exactly know how, but I can sense that the being trailing us is the same one from the motel. Sensing it doesn’t really bring me any actual clairvoyance as to what it actually is, only that it wants us to fear it.

You’re going to have to do better than fear, I think to myself, corners of my mouth rising. You’re going to have to come out of the shadows sooner or later. When you do, you’re grass…

IV
WE OUGHT TO FACE ANY SUFFERING

After the better part of an hour, we arrive at the dingy building I call home. The streets are unusually empty and quiet. This part of town tended to be lively with gangs of young colts running about in search of a night’s ultra-violence. Their absence—coupled with the ominous emotions lingering in the air like a bad perfume—instantly makes me realize something’s very wrong, but there’s no turning back, not this late in the game.

We enter with the utmost caution. The lobby’s usual mess did little to put my mind at ease. Instead of taking the elevator up to my floor as I’d done a day earlier, Joy and I instead opt to take the stairs. I carefully open the staircase door and press myself against the nearest wall. I motion Joy to do the same. Once we’re crouched, I levitate my weapon next to my head and give my companion a single nod. Carefully, we start prowling up the stairs. We don’t move forward unless I thoroughly inspect each step.

After fifteen minutes, we reach my floor. The level’s still shadowy, and it somehow feels even emptier than it had before. Glass from the once-bright fluorescent lighting still litters the floor, signaling the fact that nopony else had passed by.

Joy and I continue down the hallway. We keep our hoofsteps as silent as possible. It’s a task that’s proving rather difficult, considering equines weren’t exactly masters of stealth. Hooves just make too much noise, and muffling spells were beyond my range of expertise. There’s an echo with each hooffall, intensifying the murk around us. It’s almost as if some shadow hangs over the hallway.

At last, the final turn. I’m now looking at my office door, still slightly ajar—not even the vermin dare enter. I cast several quick glances over my shoulder to make sure Joy and I aren’t being followed. Every so often, Joy shoots me a nervous glance before refocusing on the inky darkness ahead—she can feel the wrongness in the air as well.

When the door’s but a few inches away from my muzzle, we stop. Joy and I both know it’s foolish to just gallop in. I already know of a single nasty trap—the bundle of balefire gems right behind the door. I’m dead-certain there’s more traps like that waiting.

I think about it for a second. The traps were no doubt set to take out a pony.

I again consider taking my windigo form, but I reject the idea. I had to physically interact with the traps, not just observe them. A new form springs into my head, and I feel a smile creep over my lips. “Yeah, I have one.”

Before Joy had a chance to ask again, I let out a deep exhale and allowed myself be consumed in emerald flames. When the fire recedes, my vision has been greatly augmented and I stand at least two head shorter than before. Joy nearly jumps back, just barely managing to hold back a scream as she shove a hoof into her mouth. I’m not sure if her reaction’s one of surprise, terror, or a mixture of both. I click my new pincer-like mandibles together into what amounts to my new body’s closest approximation of a smile is.

“G!” Joy suddenly shouts, completely forgetting the ‘stealth’ aspect of our goals. “You’re—you’re—you’re an arachnid!” I can’t help but snicker a bit at her reaction.

I give Joy a quick wink out of my left four eyes, exhale deeply, and scurry down the hall. I climb on to the door without so much as making it move a centimeter. I keep my body as low as it can go and rapidly scurry up through the tight opening at the top of the door’s frame. Once inside my office, I fix my gaze on the hinges. Using my now adhesive legs, I easily walk right behind the door. My enhanced perception lets me note the trap’s mechanism. The gem bundle would be triggered if the door was disturbed. The trigger mechanism wasn’t magical in nature, so I had some margin of error. All I have to do is slice a line connecting the mechanism to the door. With a quick swipe, I do just that. With that taken care of, I dismantle the rest of the mechanism, recovering the gems and putting them in my saddlebag.

I crawl backwards and move towards the ceiling, making my way to the room’s epicenter. From here, I can see the extent of the work ahead. The floor’s riddled with fine tripwires, all attached to more mechanisms hidden with invisibility spells. My new eyes can bypass the spell’s light refracting effect, so I’m not fooled. An average pony would need a pretty powerful scrying spell to see what I could in my arachnid form. I jump down and land right top of my overturned desk. It is, quite literally, the only safe spot in the minefield ahead. Carefully, I start to maneuver my legs around the tripwires. With the same diligence as earlier, I start to cut them. Twenty minutes later, all the explosives have been rendered null. I again stuff all the balefire gems into my saddlebag, which is starting to get full.

Physical traps can’t be the only surprise in my office, not if the intruders had had knowledge of who I was and what I was capable of. I again stand over my desk and let myself be consumed by emerald flames. When the flames recede, my sight’s dull again. I telekinetically reach into my saddlebag and pull out a scrying spell scroll. I read it and feel my eyes sharpen to the point that I can see a flea at over five-hundred yards away. As expected, the entire room’s laced with runic spells drawn into the very walls and floor with translucent ink. There are enough volatile glyphs placed on my walls to level the entire building two times over.

I grunt at the realization of just how much work I had ahead of me. I turn to the door to see Joy’s head slowly peeking inside. “You might want to sit down. This might take awhile.” I try my best to keep the annoyed tone out of my voice, but I don’t think it really works. I jump from the desk and transform back into the Arachnid. Instantly, Joy recoils in horror with an audible squeak. I shake my head at her reaction. Phobias…

It takes me nearly four hours, but I finally manage to remove the final runic spell from the wall. One final scrying scroll use reveals that the bedrooms and kitchen are clear. My would-be assassins had actually counted on me triggering the traps in the office like some careless foal. I’m not sure if I’m glad or insulted by just how I had been underestimated. I bitterly chuckle. Better find a way to keep my hubris in check.

The feeling of gloom and doom’s already lifting from the office. It’s a nice change from the grimness of the last day. Still, I’m not relaxing quite yet. There’s still something hunting Joy and me, and nothing’s stopping it now from bursting through my door. I consider booby trapping the hallways with a few of the balefire gems I had repurposed, but that would only attract unwanted attention—not to mention cause damage to the already old building. I walk around my now trap-free office. It’s only now that I have relative safety that I start to really take in the state of my office. I can’t help but be pissed. Whoever ransacked my place did a good job, I’ll give them that. They trashed nearly everything and rigged the whole place to blow higher than most of the fireworks used in Liberation Day parades. Really, I applaud you—A plus for effort! I scoff. Bastards.

As I right my desk, I note that at least some parts of my home weren’t complete write-offs. The kitchen was untouched, and so were the living rooms. The bottle of rompope I hid under a loose floorboard was still untouched, too. Thank Luna for small miracles. It doesn’t take me long to find the one thing I would have thought taken or destroyed sitting idly on the floor: Velvet’s note. This instantly made me feel very uneasy.

A few more minutes of work, and the office’s more or less back to its original state—minus a dresser that had a large hole in its side and a couple of dented filing cabinets. Not a big loss, just annoying. I take a shot from my rompope and try to relax.

I’m interrupted when a very angry filly storms into my office. “Just what in the name of Queen Monarchia were you thinking!?” She’s trying to keep her voice as even as she can while still yelling—it isn’t working. “You not only left me out there while you’re getting drunk!”—she points to my bottle—“You nearly scared me to death with that transformation!” I can see her fangs bared at her words.

“Of course I’m afraid of them! In my old hive, we had daily troubles with them. Nasty brigands did all sorts of horrid things to us because of their damn beliefs!” I can almost see the chills running up her chitin.

I can’t help but stifle a chuckle. “Arachnids may be big and tough, but they aren’t known for being bright. A troll can easily outwit them, you know. As for their belief that we represent ‘famine and plague,’ that’s just further proof of how dim they really are.”

“Doesn’t stop them from being deadly,” Joy says. She once again shudders. “Can you please never take that form while around me?”

“Sorry, kid, I can’t make that promise.” The corners of my mouth rise higher at my words. “It’s very useful,” I continue. “Last thing I want is to limit my transformations just because you feel uneasy about them. I’m no racist.”

Joy doesn’t reply. Instead, she opts to scowl at me and walk away. She’s still shaking from what was obviously a mix of fear and disgust. She was at least trying to cover it up with annoyance. I shake my head and leave her to her own devices for a while.

I turn my focus back to my rompope and my own thoughts. Before the buzz of the drink can really kick in, I start to run over potential culprits for the ransacking of my office. Naturally, the Crux Nato comes to mind first, but their style isn’t to leave traps to do their dirty work. They would have stuck around, hiding in the shadows, ready to strike when I least expected it.

I then think of Bullion’s thugs. He certainly had the forces to pull off a job like this, and had more than enough motive. Problem was, I had dealt with his kind before. Hired thugs—even killer suits—certainly didn’t have anywhere near the expertise on destructive magic to set up the kinds of harmful runes or balefire gems I had nullified. No, this kind of expertise required military training and years of arcane studies. There was also the fact that Velvet’s note had not been taken. If anything, that would have been Bullion’s main target—aside from my head.

That was what was wrong here. The ones responsible for thrashing my office and home hadn’t taken the note with them. They had left it behind as if it was nothing. The place was only trashed—nothing was taken. This was starting to feel less like a ransack, and more like an intimidation move.

Joy takes a seat on my beat-up sofa—which I had righted—and tries to relax. She doesn’t get too far into her attempt before she asks says, “So, what now?” in a tone I swear is a smug one.

“Well,” I start neutrally, “we’re no closer to any real answer than we were before, and whatever’s out there knows we’re here by now. A daylight attack would be suicide, but that doesn’t mean it won’t wait for nightfall.” I cross my hooves. “Soon as I get the phone back up and running, I’m calling Ingot for back-up.” I give the matter a bit more thought. “I guess that’s really the only course of action we have right now. It’s obvious this has gotten larger than I can handle alone, and if what you’ve told me is true, then...” I take a heavy breath—I can feel my brow furrowing. “…We’re dealing with a well-organized group with resources other than our former cult.”

“I’m afraid so,” I answer. I take another swig of my rompope. “I’ll also need to let the lieutenant and captain know that you’re on our side now,” I add. “I might ask if he can deputize you, maybe make you my new partner.”

“Now hold your horses, there,” Joy suddenly exclaims. Her eyes are wide in shock. “What makes you think I’m on your side now?”

“For starters, you’ve stuck around and haven’t stabbed me in the back yet,” I reply nonchalantly. “The hotel attempt doesn’t count, since you were more afraid than able-minded.” I meet her gaze and feel an honest smile creep over my muzzle. Joy doesn’t take my words well, however.

“What if I am planning something? What if I’m just waiting for you to lower your guard before I make my move?” she asks.

“That’s always a possibility, but since we’re both changelings, you know well that there is no plan you can come up with that I wouldn’t be able to sense the instant you try to carry it out.” I smile. “Also, you’re not exactly ‘threatening’ or ‘deadly.’ If anything, you’re rather helpless.” I half chuckled. “No offense intended.” Joy’s face furrows as she crosses her forelimbs. Emotionally, she’s pretty much agreeing with everything I’m saying. “Besides, do you honestly feel you would be safer with the Crux Nato?” I ask, my voice growing as grave as I can make it.

Joy visibly shudders at my question. “Good point.” She closes her eyes for a few seconds, grimace forming over her face. Then, it slowly vanished as a weak smile forms. “Who could have predicted that a rookie like me would end up working alongside one of the five preferity?”

“Partners?” Joy repeats with hesitation. “You’re really willing to trust me?” She gazes into my eyes. “Even though you and I should be sworn enemies?”

I nod in reply. “By now, I’d know for certain if you had any ulterior motives.” I give Joy a slight glare, causing her to gulp. “You and I are not only ex-Crux Nato operatives, but also changelings. We’re kindred. We share many similarities in our backgrounds. If we want to clear your name...” I pause, swallowing the urge to upchuck. “…clear the cult’s name...” The taste of vile in my mouth’s almost overwhelming. “...and find the real culprit behind the murders, we have to work together.” I bring the bottle of rompope to my lips and down a good glass’ worth. I then pop in a sugar cube for good measure.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Joy says, “why would you want to clear the cult’s name if you nearly destroyed it in the first place?”

It’s a very valid question. “If what you’ve told me is true, then the Crux Nato is being framed.” My face hardens at my words. “Now, don’t get me wrong here: I hold absolutely no love for the Crux Nato, especially since I’m who I am because of them. But if they aren’t responsible for this mess, then that leaves only one other group both capable and willing to cause such havoc. Trust me when I say that they make the Crux Nato look like saints in comparison.” My face shrivels down into a grimace.

“I really don’t like what you’re telling me here,” lieutenant Shining Armor gravely says. His face is growing paler by the second. “The Caelestibusque viciously ruled Equestria for nearly three-hundred years! Yo-you’re telling me they could be back!?”

“It’s a possibility,” I answer, keeping my voice as lax as possible. The lieutenant seems just about ready to snap. Shining Armor had arrived mere minutes after my call to Ingot, who had not been available due to a security detail with the prime minister. The lieutenant had brought along a full detachment of guards and E.B.I. officers, who were now all posted in key locations around the entire city block.

“You're absolutely sure it’s not the Crux Nato regaining its former strength?”

“Positive,” Joy answers back before I can voice myself. This prompts a surprised look from the lieutenant. “My ex-cult,” she adds to reinforce her decision to leave her past life behind, “no longer has the resources, or numbers, to enforce any authority. Not that they would do so since the new laws.”

The lieutenant looks at Joy with alarm. He looks ready to say something, but he instead sighs. The conflict he’s feeling is very clear to me, even if he doesn’t fully acknowledge it. He inhales and looks at her again. “Look, G’s vouching for you, so I’m willing to trust you. Still,” he interjects, giving the filly a sudden and cold glare, “one wrong move—one wrong step—and you’re going in a cell for the rest of your days. Got it?”

The lieutenant turns to face me. He doesn’t need to ask it; the question’s obvious on his face. “Joy’s background is almost like mine, save she’s not yet killed anypony, still feeds on love, parents are still alive in a hive located in the wastes near Salty Shores, she still reveres Monarchia despite her power-hungry nature,” that part I said in a near hiss, “and finally, she’s daftly afraid of arachnids.” I feel a creeping smirk on my muzzle.

“Again, Joy’s now an ex-member of the Crux Nato, qualifying her as an asset in the fight against whatever perpetrating these killings.” I give the filly a cautionary look. “Right?”

“Yes,” Joy says. “There’s no way I’m going back to them, especially after consorting with him.” She points a hoof at me. “Besides, I don’t think I’ve got much of a future with them anyway. It’s just another mistake in a long line of mistakes, starting with me leaving home.”

“I still don’t fully trust you, but I’ve no choice on the matter.” Shining Armor turns to face me. “This is one big mess you and I have gotten into here, G. It borders on conspiracy!” His brow furrows. “I’m starting to regret taking this case.”

“I had a feeling, yes, but… it was supposed to be simpler than this.” He somberly sighs. “I wasn’t expecting some complex scheme that might see one of Equestria’s oldest evils rise again.” He closes his eyes and shakes his head in regret.

“Lieutenant, when it comes to the Caelestibusque, nothing’s ever simple.”

The lieutenant gives me a concerned gaze, but nods nonetheless. He then turns to face Joy once more. “I guess the only loose end left is your new ‘partner’ here,” he says, pointing to the filly. She slightly recoils at the Lieutenant’s grave tone.

“She’s in this mess too,” I say. “Whatever is hunting us is likely doing so to keep her quiet.” My words make Joy take an uncomfortable gulp. It’s a fact I had not quite wanted to voice, but had to.

“I don’t argue with that, detective,” the lieutenant replies. “Still, are you sure you want her as your new partner?” He looks Joy over with diligence. “She’s not exactly guard material.” He gestures to all of Joy’s being. She gives him a crossed look.

“If I recall, neither was I. Yet, the princess gave me a pardon and a position in the E.B.I.” I give the lieutenant a confident smile. “Besides, what other choice do we have?” I lean forward on my desk. “The other options available aren’t exactly pleasant.”

“True,” Shining Armor gives another chuckle before his expression hardens once again. “Turning this fine young filly into a lobotomite isn’t exactly on my list of things to see in my lifetime.” He shoots Joy an apologetic look before turning his full attention back to me. “So, where do you stand on the case?” Shining Armor does his best to change the subject before Joy literally strangles him.

“Square. Freaking. One,” I sourly reply. “At first, I was dead-certain the murders had to do with Bullion and his casino. His daughter’s murder could have been a fluke, but every victim after that had some kind of connection either to him or the place. Paying that bastard a visit revealed that while the guy is scum and a cheat, he’s clean of any blood; at least in plain sight. Only concrete thing I can pin on him is unethical gambling, and that’s only punishable by a fine.” I put a hoof over the bridge of my nose.

“Sounds like there might be more to it, then,” Shining Armor replies, hoof on his chin. “Let’s keep that venue open, especially since you were captured inside his casino.” The Lieutenant writes down some information on a notepad. Then, he turns back to me. “What else?”

“The next suspect’s the Crux Nato itself,” I reply. “The cult was a strong candidate for being the ‘murder weapon’ in this case, especially since it was blood magic that caused every death known, including Velvet’s.” I turn to face Joy, who tenses at my sight. “That all changed with Joy’s revelation of the new Crux Nato workings, though. Much as I hate to say it, they could possibly have been framed.” I take another swig of cider and cross my hooves. My eyes go shut for a moment as I take in the words I’m about to say. “Officially, the trail’s dead.” I open my eyes and face Shining Armor. “Unofficially, I fear the Caelestibusque may be responsible for the homicides.” I feel a chill run down my spine at my own words.

“That’s the issue,” Shining Armor starts. “There is no ‘official’ way of knowing that for certain.” He sounds just as frustrated as I am. “The guards and E.B.I. can’t move unless we know for sure.” He let out a groan, laying back on his chair and looking at my roof. “Curse all this red tape and procedure.”

“To make matters worse, there’s something stalking Joy and me.” I give another exasperated sigh. “Much as I hate the idea, I’m going to need my old office at the Palace of Justice again. I really don’t think this building is the safest place to be in anymore, even if it can be defended.”

“Yeah,” the lieutenant replies as he gives my office a look over. “This place’s definitely seen better days.” He turns to face me. “Why’d you leave your old office anyway?”

The lieutenant raises an eyebrow at my answer, but inquires no further. I can feel that his emotions towards me are changing, from shiftiness to trust. I give a silent sigh. Whether I wanted it or not, Shining Armor was going to stick around. I smile and shake my head. Poor kid’s in for a bit of a shock, especially if my hunter’s as cruel as I had been at one point…

With that beautiful thought still in my mind, I get to picking up whatever belongings weren’t bolted to the floor or broken beyond repair. I wanted to move into my office before nightfall—no reason to give my hunter valid reason to attack.

I pace aimlessly back and forth. My hoofsteps echo over my newly refurbished Palace of Justice office. The white walls feel alien—I was used to black and brown. To say I feel exposed is an understatement.

Five days have passed since my… incident with the draconequus. In that time, Joy had not only gotten a pardon signed by both Princess Luna and the Supreme Equestrian Court, she had been officially admitted into the Equestrian Guards as a junior cadet. I had been appointed as her mentor, but she just took to calling me “partner,” which I didn’t mind. She now shared my office, which I was grateful for since it made the otherwise empty space tolerable.

Unfortunately, the killer had also kept itself busy. Not a single night had gone by without another corpse ending up in the morgue by the next morning. While Shining Armor and captain Ingot kept their hooves full chasing “valid” leads, Joy and I continued working the seedier parts of Canterlot, extracting information from the scum that resided there. It almost didn’t matter, though, since the few leads we got always ended in dead ends or with irrelevant thugs that had no connection to the murders at all.

Joy and I weren’t the only ones having bad luck. The lieutenant and captain had it even worse; they hadn’t even gotten a single valid lead yet. Worse, every time the four of us were out chasing phantoms, we felt the cold and calculating gaze of our nameless hunter fall on us. It almost felt like we were being used in some sick game, guided along the board at the whim of an unseen player.

As I pace back and forth like some caged lion, that young filly, Velvet, keeps entering my thoughts. She haunts me in ways I never thought I could be haunted. Her sudden demise nags at me like a bad conscience. In my mind, I can see her blaming me for her gruesome end. In a way, it’s true. I hadn’t stopped her that night, and she had died because of it. The more I think about it, the more I start to realize that her death felt… wrong; like it wasn’t quite part of a plan. I had almost caught the one responsible for her untimely fate, and I was sure that hadn’t been part of the plan.

Actually, thinking back to the perpetrator, I realize that his method, coupled with the fact that he didn’t so much as harm me—even though he had ‘tried’—pointed to the probability that Velvet’s death had actually been planned. I stop pacing and put a hoof on my chin at that thought. A murder that’s both planned and unplanned—it makes no sense. Then again, nothing about the case makes sense at this point…

*** *** ***

Another day passes by, and to my shock, there is no reported murder. At first it seems like a fluke—maybe the news outlets just haven’t gotten wind of it yet, or maybe the senate finally started to quiet things down. Another day goes by, and then another. Before I know it, a whole seven days has passed without a single death or abnormal occurrence in Canterlot. No petty crimes, no gang activity, heck, not even a single jaywalker. The seven days soon becomes fourteen, and fourteen becomes nineteen. Canterlot once again seems to return to its utopian way of life: the ugly and harsh truth hidden behind a fine porcelain mask.

Normally, I would have been very glad to see such a streak of peace—bodies piling up in the morgue with no face to go with them only meant grief for all the colts at the E.B.I. and the guards. Still, something continued nagging at the back of my mind. Not one victim had concrete connection with the other save for the fact that they were possible patrons of the Golden Vision. I had nothing to act on, and I wasn’t about to risk my chitin by going back to the Golden Vision. Just knowing that whatever foul being took Velvet’s life was still out there—possibly stalking its next victim—made my chitin crawl and filled me with a fury I hadn’t felt since my younger years. I feel my wings start to vibrate at the emotion.

“G, are you alright?” Joy suddenly asks. She looks up from the book she’s devouring: the first volume of a new adventure story called Daring Doo.

I turn to face her and put on a smile. “Yeah,” I answer. “I’m just thinking.”

It’s true that I’m thinking, both about Velvet and Joy. She’s turning out to be quite the able-hooved agent, even if her preference for bladed weapons contrasted against my preference for ranged ones. I’m not one to complain, especially since half of the extracted confessions we had managed to scrape together over the last nineteen days had been all thanks to her. She was starting to take after me in all the wrong ways, though. I fear she’s soon going to draw blood, and in doing so cease to be just a semi-innocent filly, but something akin to what I was. It scares me just how similar she and I are. She’s still too young and innocent to end up like I did. It scares me even more because I’m starting to care for her as if she was family. Every time my gaze falls on her, it softens in a way that isn’t exactly common for me. I get this almost overwhelming desire to nurture and care. Honestly, what’s wrong with me? A few weeks ago, I wouldn’t have given a single buck about family or siblings. Now, it’s at the forefront of my thoughts and choices.

“Still worried the murders are going to start again?” Joy asks, ears falling back at her words.

“Yeah,” I answer without really meeting her gaze. For some reason, I suddenly imagine Joy meeting the same fate as Velvet. The thought utterly terrifies me.

“It’s been three weeks, G. Whoever or whatever was responsible seems to have given up.”

“If only I could believe that,” I say bitterly. I trot over to my desk and take a seat. I lean back on my chair, mind racing through a thousand different thoughts. I want to believe you, Joy, I really do. But I know well that killers, unless stopped, bide their time before killing again. I know; I was one once. I close my eyes momentarily and try to relax. I slowly let my breath out as I try to take in the stillness. For a moment, it works, and my mind starts to clear.

All of a sudden, an image flashes before me. A shadow in the far distance, followed by a unicorn's corpse violently sprawled on the snowy pavement, his white coat stained crimson and eyes gazing widely at me. I only have to look at his shield cutie mark to know who he was.

Instantly, I snap alert, still stunned at the image. My imagination was becoming more and more morbid by the day, but this was different. I can feel my heart racing and a horrid sensation in the pit of my gut. I try to shake the image out of my mind, but any attempt to do so only causes it to grow more vivid. I run a hoof over my face and sigh. I bring out my bottle of sweet hard cider, but I’m all out. I groan as I toss the bottle on my waste bin. I turn to Joy, who has all but returned to reading her book. “I need to go get some more Cider. Want anything from the store?”

“I don’t drink,” Joy answers. She again looks at me from her book before giggling. “I also don’t have your fascination with sweets. But tell you what; I’ve always wanted to try out chocolate.”

“Alright, chocolate it is then.” I get up from my desk, levitate my trench coat from its rack, and move towards the door. Right before I magic the door handle, I get very strong gut feeling. In the nanosecond it takes me to blink, several images flash before me. I see an alley, a lone red-hooded and masked figure with twisted horns, and the same unicorn’s body sprawled on the crimson snow. I turn to gaze up at the figure, who has somehow moved right in front of me without as much as a single sound. I gaze into his blazing balefire-toned eyes and feel a great dread. Almost as if he’s somehow a part of me…

The images fade just as fast as they came, but the message is very clear. I look to Joy, who has once again gone back to her book. Without her noticing, I levitate my hoof repeater from my desk and carefully strap it in its respective holster as I head out the door. Somehow, my natural compass guides me to where I need to go.

A glow erupted from the shadowed alleyway. [This is Shining Armor checking in. Over.]

There was silence for a few seconds, and then a young stallion’s voice rang within the lieutenant’s head. [Come in, lieutenant Shining Armor. This is private Clover reading you loud and clear. Over.]

The lieutenant gave a nod and smile. [Clover, my patrol route is clear. Do you have any news from the other patrols? Over.]

[Nothing as of yet, lieutenant,] the private replied. [The rest of the squad must be beyond the range of our sympathetic communications spells. Over.]

The young lieutenant’s eyes grew narrow at the private’s words. [Clover, our combined spells are powerful enough to cover a fifty square-mile radius. If nopony has checked in yet, it’s because something has gone wrong. Over.]

Shining Armor stopped momentarily to think on his next move. Sure, he could order the private abandon his route and meet him right away, or he could order the private return to base to inform the higher branches of the situation. None of those seemed appropriate, however, especially when the issue was a break in communication. In the end, he decided to maintain protocol. [Clover, continue your patrol route as normal. I'll meet up in the rendezvous. We’ll see about the rest of the squad then. Keep your communication line open.]

The lieutenant glanced around to get a better sense of direction. After ensuring that nothing out of the ordinary was about, he made his way towards the meeting point. The evening sun was soft on his coat. If the weather teams made more of an effort to keep the weather as balmy as it was now, he certainly wouldn’t mind being assigned more patrol rounds. As it stood, the day’s warmth was a bureaucratic fluke. Snow had been scheduled for several days, but the city had sunlight instead. The lieutenant really only had to look skyward to see dark clouds already being hastily gathered.

As he trotted down back alleys and streets, he felt a cold sensation running down his neck with every hoofstep. He wasn’t sure what to make of it, and the few ideas that popped into his head were rather unpleasant. The feeling intensified as he turned the last corner of his patrol route and crossed right into private Clover’s route. He looked about, expecting to see his lime-green companion turning the corner to meet him. Instead, he was met with dead silence and a growing darkness that felt utterly unnatural.

He gave a wry smile and a shake of his head. He figured the private was late because he was still getting acquainted with guard procedures. Keeping a schedule was, sadly, among the things that most rookies needed to work on. He himself was guilty of occasionally slacking when it came to a schedule. The growing darkness made it hard to tell shadows apart from living ponies, so the lieutenant cast a minor light spell, after which he lit his horn and performed yet another sympathetic communications spell. [Private Clover, this is Shining Armor. Come in,] he started.

[Private Clover, this is lieutenant Shining Armor. Come in,] he thought more gravely. More silence. His brow furrowed. [Private Clover, this is lieutenant Shining Armor requesting that you check in. Over.] He waited for exactly one minute before officially growing anxious. He dismissed his spell and shook his head. “Where’s that rookie gone to?”

He made his way down the road and to the corner private Clover should have turned about two minutes earlier. He expected to find the young unicorn goofing off or gawking at some pretty filly. Instead, he found the private sprawled on the ground with his neck cut open. There wasn’t a single drop of blood in the snow. The poor colt hadn’t even gotten the chance to reach for his weapon to defend himself. He just looked skyward with glassy, faded eyes.

Shining Armor’s heart skipped a beat at the sight. His breathing became shallow and rapid, eyes growing to the size of tea plates as they darted from side to side. He cast his communications spell again. [This is lieutenant Shining Armor communicating in all arcane frequencies. Anypony, please respond!] Dead silence.

[This is Shining Armor—] he suddenly paused to straighten his thoughts. [Captain Ingot, can you hear me? Please respond!]

He felt himself near the point of panic as the full weight of his situation started to sink in. He could feel his every muscle tremble as a sheer terror began to take over. Swiftly, he turned around and made a dash for the alleyway’s exit. If he was attacked, he stood a greater chance of survival out in the street, where he could at least maneuver.

As he galloped, he kept furiously attempting to get a communications link with anypony going, but it was to no avail. As he turned the next darkened corner, he was met with yet another ghastly sight, one that caused him to nearly trip over as he violently skidded to a stop. Before the young lieutenant, in a scene that seemed ripped right out of a horror moving picture, lay all eighteen of his comrades. There was no blood to be seen anywhere.

He could feel his lip quiver as he took a single cautious step forward, extending a shaky hoof at the horror before him. He had known all of the guards—had been close friends with almost all of them. Now they all lay dead, discarded, and piled like garbage. Fear was supplanted by rage. In his mind, a furious voice started to shout, demanding retribution for the slain. Instinctively, he telekinetically wrapped the mouth handle of his sheathed saber. That soon came to an end when a lone dark figure appeared at the very end of the nearest alley. The being—a goat, by the appearance of his twisted horns—had eyes that glowed like balefire and sported trails of swirling purple miasma that shone and swirled like Princess Luna’s mane.

Whatever rage the young lieutenant had been building dissipated as raw dread supplanted it. His body locked-up completely as his gaze became fixed on the being before him. Despite his body ferociously telling him not to, he risked a single blink. In that single frame of a nanosecond, the assailant covered the distance, appearing right before the horrified and stunned lieutenant. Before he even had a chance to utter a single sound, the goat delivered a massive ramming attack to his chest. The lieutenant was sent flying a few meters. He landed face up, air knocked right out of his lungs. He hadn’t even begun to recover when the goat blinked right on top of him, right hoof raised with the obvious intent to crush.

Instinctively, the lieutenant unleashed a spell he had just recently mastered: an arcane barrier. The lavender-toned force field pushed the goat right off, but didn’t seem to harm the assailant in any visible way. The goat stood up again, shaking snow from his crimson robes. He let his eyes glow, and vanished in another flash of light. The lieutenant turned around just in time to come face to mask with the masked goat once again.

Despite his dread and terror, Shining Armor suddenly found strength in the rage building up in him. The goat’s own eyes seem to shine with fury as well, though the mage’s fury seemed to stem from determination and hatred; hatred for Shining Armor. There was something unnatural—almost eldritch—about the goat’s loathing. The lieutenant could feel great power in it, almost as if the very detestation in the air was powering the foul mage.

A single flash from the mage’s eyes and Shining Armor founds himself enveloped in a dark-purple miasma. Before he could muster a counter-spell, he was pinned against the nearest wall. Within seconds, the goat had pressed his hoof against the young unicorn’s neck, uttering what at first sounded like complete gibberish. The lieutenant’s eyes went wide. A dreadful sensation started to grow within his very body—as if his very innards were growing rigid. A fiery agony swiftly erupted all through his being as a massive surge of pressure started to build in his midsection. Tears of pain started to build in his eyes. His thoughts turned to his beloved Cadence and Twilight. His gaze turned to the mound of corpses. The harrowing implication flooded in. Forgive me, I’m… not going… to make it… home tonight… The lieutenant closed his eyes as the pain reached a new zenith.

I yawn and put the book down. Dang, feels as if I have spent hours reading this Daring Doo adventure.

Not much to do now, I guess. G didn’t really say when he was gonna get back, and I’m certainly not going to sit around and do nothing. Doing nothing’s so… boring. Dang, I guess I can’t really think of anything else to label it as other than boring.

As I get up from my cushion and move to the door, I notice something in G’s desk. It’s a manila folder, one that looks awfully beat up. I move my eyes left and right, just to make sure there is no one watching me, and telekinetically bring the folder to me. I’m sure G won’t mind me reading this, especially if it’s about the case. He’s been rather paranoid these last few days. I’m starting to really worry about him.

Looking at the tab in the side of the folder, and I see a name I’m not too familiar with. “Gro’gar” I read out-loud. Wonder who this is? I open the folder and find myself stunned. The picture on file is that of G, only he looks young; very young. In fact, he can’t a year older than twenty. Despite looking like he just got out of a scrap with a pair of manticores, he looks… handsome—not that he isn’t handsome right now, of course—but if I didn’t know him how I do now, I wouldn’t mind getting to know him better. I can’t help but giggle. Shi’arma! You naughty little changeling~

By the looks of his picture, it was taken right after G’s ill-fated suicide mission. Curiosity gets the best of me, and I decide to read a bit about my partner and mentor. Again, I’m sure he won’t mind me looking. According to the paper, G’s real name is “Gro’gar.” Guess I know why he uses ‘G’ instead of his real name now. His weight’s about one hundred and fifty pounds—wait, a hundred and fifty pounds? I knew G was heavy from the moment I saw his body lacked openings, but I never knew he was that heavy. Age is… classified. I roll my eyes; should have known. What about his actual background?

Why? I mean, I guess I can sort of understand—privacy and all that jazz—but did it have to be to this extreme a level? I give a somewhat frustrated sigh. Now I really want to know more about him. Wonder if he even told me the whole truth… I guess that will come with time.

I close the folder and get ready to go out of the office when I hear a knock on the door. I wrap the door knob in my magic and open the door. I’m greeted by a unicorn mare and a stallion… or something similar to a stallion. I can’t quite describe him other than him being, well, a he.

The stallion is tall. If I had to guess, maybe five feet, three inches, not counting his antlers—which almost make him six feet even! That’s almost as tall as G. His coat’s a bright white. It almost looks as if it’s pulsating every few seconds with some type of energy. His mane wraps all around his head—all the way down to his chin. It forms a massive beard that almost reaches his forelegs. He sports stripes of blue that run through the otherwise snow-white mane. All four of his limbs end in prehensile cloven hooves that look more like razor-sharp claws than actual hooves. His tail’s rather dragon-like, even though it is very thin. Had it not been for his fanged muzzle and piercing ruby draken eyes, I would have almost said the stallion was some kind of deer. His getup’s equally strange as he is— it’s kind of like a mix between a robe, a trench coat, a martial arts gi, and something I swear I had seen in a kung-fu comic book.

In contrast, the unicorn mare is almost plain in appearance. Her coat’s a fine orange, mane a very beautiful silver color, and eyes a fine topaz hue. Her body frame’s light—perhaps too light. She sports an elegant white officer’s great coat with the Equestrian Battlemage insignia proudly displayed in bright ebony and gold. Coupled with her natural beauty, I found myself feeling very jealous of her.

The mare looked at me and smiled warmly. Even her teeth seemed to be perfectly pearly. “Hello,” she started, her tone resonating with some confusion. “I’m sorry to bother you, but this is detective G’s office, is it not?” She looked around the hall several times before turning her gaze back to me. “At least, I’m sure this is his office.”

“Since when does Mr. G ‘ave himself a greeter?” a voice says from the background. I move my head slightly and see the source—a filly unicorn that can’t be older than I am. She’s wearing a cow-pony hat and red scarf around her neck.

“I’m no ‘greeter’,” I reply, not really caring that my tone’s a bit harsh. “I’m his partner, Joy.”

“A’, so you’re da lovely young cadet G too’ under ‘is tutelage.” The filly beams widely. “Looks ‘ike yu’s got da’ same spark he doe’.”

“Sweetie, keep it down,” the stallion tells the filly. “And you,” he looks at me. “Apologize.” His physical features make him appear larger-than-life.

“Oh honey, you’re being overly dramatic again,” the mare says in a slightly sing-song tone. She looks to the stallion with a loving smile. “I think independence and fierceness are great assets to have.”

“Sure, they’re fine to have when dealing with the unsavory lowlifes of Equestria. But here in the corps, there is such a thing as ranking.” The stallion again looks down on me sternly. “You owe my wife—who is a major of the battlemage division—an apology, cadet!”

I turn to look at the mare, who only smiles and shakes her head. “She doesn’t have to apologize for anything,” she retorts to her husband.

“She does,” the stallion retorts, slamming his clawed hoof on the floor. “We have a system of rank for a reason. Otherwise, everything is chaos!”

The mare seems ready to say something harsher. I gulp, realizing I was about to see the first words in a marital argument. Before that could happen, I speak out. “Major, I’m sorry for having insulted you.” I bow my head. “I’ll take full punishment for my insubordination.”

“Goo’ job pa, yus’ just once ‘gain prove’ what a hard-ass yus’ be.” The filly says, stepping from the back with a sour look on her face.

“Aye, but hav’ yus’ already fergotten yus’ and ma aren’t on duty right now?”

“That may be true, but we must never forget the system in place in this nation!” The stallion places a hoof over his chest, almost as if he’s about to start the equestrian pledge of allegiance. “It’s the only thing separating us from degenerates and brigands.”

“Sure,” the filly says as she rolls her eyes. She turns to look at me. “I’ma real sorry about my pa’s rather strict natur’.” She shoots him a glare. “He’s not always this big of an ass.”

“Meghan!” the mare says. “This is your father you’re talking about!” The mare looks up to her husband. “He’s not an ‘ass’.” A grin forms on her lips. “He’s more akin to a nerd, really.” At that, both mare and filly burst into laughter.

The stallion seems like he’s about to retort viciously, but ended up shaking his head, smile on his muzzle. “You two got me, I’ll admit that.”

“Oh, of cours’ we dos’!” the filly replies. “G hasn’t exactly been keepin’ on the down low ‘bout yus’.”

“Well, ‘e did say sumthin’ ‘bout yus’s background.” the filly mischievously smiles. “But, yus’ story ring with us all ere’.” She wraps her hooves around her parents. She’s barely able reach her father’s neck. “Well, rings with my parents a’ least. I wus’ too youn’ to really know anythin’ ‘bout the Crux Nato.”

Suddenly, I recall what G had told me about his friends—the other four preferity. I realize that I’m facing two and a half of them. Instinctively take a step back. “You’re Ude and Arashi,” I say, pointing a hoof at the pair. “And you must be Meghan.” I point a hoof at the filly.

“Yus’ win da jackpot!” the filly says, smiling broadly. Ude nods and Arashi closes his eyes, raises his head, and gives a light snort.

“I was, but I just got back—today in fact.” He smiles. “As you can probably tell from my attire, I haven’t really had time to change into my E.B.I. uniform yet.”

“I think what you’re wearing now fits you quite fine, honey,” Ude says, giving her husband a light nuzzle on his chin.

“ ‘Protocol,’ ” Meghan says, finishing her father’s words. Arashi shoots her a slight glare, which Meghan retorts to with a beam.

After a shake of his head, Arashi says, “At any rate, the reason we came by was because we need to speak to G. Unfortunately, he doesn’t seem to be around.” He rubs his chin. “Which is odd, since he said he was going to be doing paperwork all day.”

“He was doing paperwork, but got thirsty. He left about ten minutes ago. Not sure when he’ll be back, though.”

“More or less—not that there’s anything to really watch here.” I motion to the half-empty room. “To say I’m bored out of my mind’s an understatement.”

“Well, we have to speak to him, so we’ll go ahead and wait for him.” Arashi looks to his daughter.

“Meghan, why don’t you take Shi’arma here to the training room? I’m sure she’ll benefit from a good sparring session.”

“Sure thin’ pa!” Meghan enthusiastically quips. She turns to face me. “Common’ Shi, yus’ and I are abou’ to sweat more than sinners in church!” Before I even have a chance to say anything, Meghan wraps her magic around my hoof and quite literally drags me down the hall. I’m shocked at just how strong her telekinetic pull really is.

As G’s office shrinks from sight, I notice Ude and Arashi speaking to each other. At first, they are smiling, looking quite happy. Then, those smiles start to fade. I felt a lingering cold encroach on the pair. Something’s wrong…

“So Shi,” Meghan suddenly starts, “has Mr. G said anythin’ about little ol’ mes’?” she looks back with a depraved smirk.

Ude smiled widely. “Look at Meghan go. She sure has gotten stronger from all that training, hasn’t she?”

Arashi nodded. “Yes she has.” He gazed on for a second, and then sighed. “Still, I’m worried she’s jumping into this whole ‘cadet’ business too blindly. Surely, she knows that being a battlemage is hard work requiring decades of diligence and commitment.”

“Oh, she’s got magic potential, don’t worry about that. She hasn’t been slacking while you were out doing your pilgrimage, you know.”

“But does she have the concentration and determination to be a battlemage?” Arashi turned to face his wife. “You hear how she talks. She sounds like some cowpony miner or prospector fresh out of Dodge!”

“It’s just a phase, honey,” Ude says with a wave of her hoof. “Don’t forget she was accepted into Canterlot’s School for Gifted Unicorns—the sixth-youngest unicorn to ever manage that feat. I’m sure she’ll outgrow her love for the rugged western life eventually. And if she doesn’t, so what? She’ll still be one of the best battlemages from this generation.”

“She does take after your magical prowess, sweetie.” Arashi said, stepping closer to his wife.

“And she takes after your physical prowess, honey.” Ude said as she gently nibbled on her husband’s cheek.

“What about that Shi’arma filly?” Arashi suddenly asks. “Think G was too hasty in making her his partner?”

“I think it’s sweet,” Ude warmly replies. “G’s had a hard life—harder than any of us. He will never admit it, but he’s just looking for someone to care about. I can’t imagine how painful it must be to never be able to have children”

Arashi took a step back at his wife’s words. “I thought that was something he made up to avoid dating altogether! You’re telling me it’s actually true?!”

“Yes, honey.” Ude closes her eyes. “When he became… well—what is he now—one of the side effects made it so the prospect of having kids would be… very difficult.”

Arashi’s face was that of horror. “So, the poor guy can’t ever start a family of his own?”

“I… I don’t know what to say.” Arashi looked as if he couldn’t decide what expression to have on his face. “I guess he’s not doing… you—know—” he brings up his clawed foreleg, forms a small circle with his thumb and index claws, and places his right index claw over the gap. “—with Shi’arma then.”

“Hey, I’m just pointing out a possibility!” Arashi says, cheeks growing rosy.

“I can’t believe you would think that of Gro’gar! You, of all ponies, should know that he’s not a degenerate.” Ude couldn’t help but shake her head. “Even when he was young, he didn’t see fillies like that. Can’t you see that he cares for Shi’arma like a sister? He’s willing to put down his well-being to keep her safe… just like his parents gave up everything to save him.”

Arashi looked to the floor, face growing redder by the second. “Sorry, honey, it’s just that… you know what G’s really capable of.” He looked back up, directly Ude’s eyes. “There’s a reason that he was given the power to feed on hate.”

“Arashi, Gro’gar’s not that confused and angry colt anymore—he’s a grown stallion. He proved just what he’s really willing to do to keep those he cares about safe. We’re standing here today because of that.”

“I know… it’s that that I still worry about him. I can’t help but feel that he’s a time bomb. You remember what he did to the arch-mages, right?”

Ude takes a gulp, slowly turning away from her husband. “How can I forget?” she placed a hoof over her eyes. “That’s something I’ll carry to my grave…”

Arashi slowly walks to the nearest window. “…Ude, do you think that G left because of the disturbance?”

Ude removes the hoof form her face, but keeps her eyes close. “I’m sure he felt it. Not sure if it was powerful enough to get him to leave.”

“What if it was? You and I felt it, and we don’t have a changeling’s ability to sense raw emotion. Think of how much more powerful it must have been for him.”

“Wait. We keep our senses sharp and we wait. If another one of those disturbances occurs, then we make our move.”

Before the foul mage is able to complete his chant, he is violently blasted backward by an explosion, one that is blocked outright by a lilac energy barrier he just barely manages to cast.

Shining Armor’s magical binds instantly loosen, and he drops on the ground. There, he pants and groans, trying to fight back the pain. Within seconds, he has regained most of his physical processes. Soon as he is able to, he gallops away from the mage, limping and wincing. He stumbles into the snow before turning towards the direction from which the blast originated.

Standing tall despite being literally covered in scrapes, cuts, and bruises is Captain Ingot. His eyes glare daggers at the fell mage, piercing the very air with unfathomable fury. His horn shines a bright golden hue, casting the magic necessary to keep his sizable weapon levitated next him. The blunderbuss is large and impressive, looking like had been converted from something a griffon or diamond dog would have used. It is beautifully engraved with runic etchings designed to turn every volley fired into an inferno intended to take out full-grown dragons and hydras. “Keep away from him, you bastard!” he barks at the foul goat mage.

The goat stands again, looking no worse for wear despite having being blasted by a weapon that should have vaporized him. Part of his robe is gone, however, revealing a dark-blue coat underneath patches of hardened crimson armor. The goat looks up to Ingot in acknowledgement, but does not reply. Instead, he lets his eyes glow once again. Seconds later, the very ground the captain stands upon erupts as two spires shoot forth from the very earth. The captain is just barely able to leap away as the spires sprout sharp and jagged spikes fearsome enough to skewer a manticore. He lands with his weapon aimed at the mage.

With the precision only a master markspony could muster, he fires. Unlike the shot that saved Shining Armor’s life, the goat quite easily sees it coming and parries it accordingly with his hoof. The shot violently burst into a fireball just as the mage seemed about to charge the captain. Once again, the fire burns parts of the mage’s robes and barding—particularly around the right foreleg and chest—causing him to stagger back. The captain visibly smiles as he snaps his weapon’s lever, loading a new shell into the firing chamber. He takes aim and fires.

The fell mage, now wise to the captain’s method of attack, opts to outright dodge the next shot by literally vanishing and reappearing mere meters away from Ingot. The captain snaps the lever again and fires another round, but just like the previous attack, the goat easily avoids it via teleportation. Two more shots, and the captain realizes his foe’s too close for his weapon’s firing range. With a swing of the blunderbuss, the weapon snaps out a fearsome bayonet. He readies the weapon just as the fell mage summons a blade made of pure magic by ringing what sounds like some kind of bell.

Both captain and goat meet viciously, their respective weapons clashing against one another in a shower of sparks. The captain’s bayonet, on account of being enchanted, manages to hold back the mage’s wholly arcane blade. A step back from the pair and the two weapons once more clash with an audible thunder that brings out ponies from their homes. They gaze on from their windows and balconies as a captain of the guard fights for his very life. Shining Armor can’t help but be left in awe at the sight.

Several more attacks, and the captain and mage stand completely locked in a stalemate. The goat forcefully pushes back on Ingot’s weapon and then utters a set of fell words:

There is a low rumble, followed by what can only be described as the sound of wet paper bags full of gelatin being crushed. Shining Armor looks on in absolute horror as the bodies of his deceased comrades contort viciously. Seconds later, all eighteen slain guards stand. Their eyes remain devoid of life, but they shamble forward. Half draw whatever weapons they had on hoof and charge Ingot, while the rest turn to face Shining Armor.

The captain snarls, swiftly turning to face the foul goat mage only to find empty air. He turns back to his reanimated comrades just in time to avoid a direct attack. Instinctively, the captain swings his bladed blunderbuss, slicing the heads off three of the dead guards. They only stagger back a few steps before once again charging him—they don’t even bleed. “Armor!” the captain shouts, then blocks another attack directed at him.

Shining Armor is utterly stunned by the horrid sight. He can feel his very blood grow cold. He is unwilling and unable to stand against the foul sight before him. It’s his captain’s words that finally snap him back to reality. Letting go of his senses and giving solely to instinct, the young lieutenant manages to dodge a swipe to his head by one of the guard’s lances. He just barely manages to catch the next attack, snatching the weapon right out of the earth pony’s hooves and using it to push back the other. With one mighty stab, he delivers an attack that impales three dead guards at once. He winces as he sees the lance piercing the bodies of familiar faces, but once his eyes settle on the lifeless husks that were once his friends, newfound determination fills him. He tells himself these ponies are no longer fellow guards, but reanimated abominations that stand as affronts to every natural law. With that thought running through his mind, he wraps his magic around his saber’s mouth hilt, and with newfound determination, slices away at the limbs of three more attacking guards. He turns around and with a magic projectile, pushes back the remaining three guards.

The young lieutenant turns to the three assailants he skewered with the lance. He uses his magic to withdraw the lance, and using the same momentum, flings his saber at them, cutting the three ponies in twain. There is no blood as the three ponies fall down, bodies sliced across the abdomen. To the lieutenant’s horror, they still attempt to crawl towards him. With equal parts revulsion and sorrow, Shining Armor hacks the pony’s limbs off. He has to fight hard to avoid vomiting from the shock. The only saving grace he can think of is the fact that for reasons that completely avoid him, none of the guards bleed when mutilated. It’s almost as if some kind of magic is literally keeping the blood from spilling. That’s when it finally hits him: the magic at play is literally affecting the blood of the dead guards. Blood magic! Before he can complete his thought, the three guards he pushed back earlier attack. The lieutenant retaliates by hacking the three guard’s limbs off. It doesn’t stop them from continuing their charge forward, but it slows them down significantly. “Captain!” Shining Armor calls out. “Don’t waste your time attacking them anywhere other than their limbs. They ignore everything else!”

Captain Ingot hears his lieutenant’s words, and shifts his method of attack. He aims for the ground, where five of the reanimated guards thread, and fires three shots. The blasts, combined with the searing flames, not only knock back the five guards, but reduce their limbs to bony crisps. Without wasting time, he turns to face the remaining four assailants. He swings his bladed blunderbuss at their hooves, disabling three of the remaining four. The last one, he knocks to the ground with a well-placed buck before shooting him. The ex-guard explodes in a shower of fire, leaving behind nothing but pony-shaped pile of ash on the snow.

After snapping another round into the chamber, the captain turns to aid Shining Armor, only to find himself facing the goat once more. The captain brings his weapon to bear, but before he’s able to fire, the goat delivers a well-placed ram to the captain’s chest. The sound of breaking ribs fills the air as the captain is sent flying back several feet.

With one fluid motion, Shining Armor swings his blade, cleaving the remaining reanimated guard’s limbs before galloping towards his captain as the goat mage stands over him in triumph. Rage fills the mind and heart of the young lieutenant, pushing out any fear he might have once held. With spear and blade levitated in tow, he covers the distance in a matter of seconds before launching the two weapons at the goat. With a fluid motion that was far too fast for normal ponies, the goat not only dodges the two tossed weapons, but actually travels the ten hoof spaces between himself and the lieutenant. Before he has a chance to counter, the mage blasts him with a bright flash that leaves him utterly disoriented. Using that, the goat knocks him off his hooves with a sweeping kick and telekinetically sends him crashing through the nearest set of trashcans.

The fell mage turns back to Ingot, only to receive a direct blast from his blunderbuss. The mage is just barely able to contain the fearsome blast as it knocks him skyward. The remainders of his robes go up in flames, and his crimson barding all but shatters. Even his mask bends in the wake of the flames. Had it not been for the blood armor now wrapping his entire body, the mage would have been completely incinerated. He lands with a thud, but gets back up with a hop. He shakes his head furiously; attempting to dislodge the mask he wears. Finally, the goat opts to rip it right off his face. The mage’s true scowling visage meets the captain, a thin trail of blood slowly flowing down his forehead.

The goat appears almost normal when not wearing any kind of apparel. His face is rugged, but young, with a strong and protruding under jaw. His dark blue horns spiral downwards from the top of his cranium. His ‘mane’ is a silvery white, covering part of his head, sides, and ending on his jaw in a medium-sized beard. The two most striking features are also the same aspects that show that he is beyond any normal goat. First are his eyes, now unhindered by his mask. They glow bright enough for their power to sparkle and shine, almost as if they were the very source of his magic. Then, is his protruding and jagged teeth that appear fearsome enough to rend flesh.

The captain gazes on at his foe, eyes wide in shock. He slowly shakes his head before muttering, “You...” Ingot’s face turns to one of rage as he snaps his blunderbuss’ lever and loads another round. Though he’s visibly limping now, he still manages to stand straight enough to aim and fire his weapon in a single fluid motion.

The goat darts forward, moving his body to avoid the incoming hail of fiery pellets. The captain loads another round and fires, but finds his attack missing once again. He attempts to load one last time, but the mage’s covered the distance. He delivers a swift number of jabs to the captain’s chest and neck, causing him to drop his weapon in pain. The goat takes a single swift movement back, almost as if he floated on the very ground, and speaks another set of fell words:

The remaining seventeen dead guards emit a massive gurgle as what remains of their bodies begins to inflate. Seconds later, they all burst like balloons, forming shimmering orbs of crimson. The orbs move towards the fell mage, where they come together to form a massive sphere.

Whatever residents had been brave enough to stay and watch the captain and goat battle flee at the sight of the massive sphere floating above the alleyway. The pegasi take flight, and the unicorns teleport away. The few earth ponies present opt to turn tail and flee out their front doors. Ingot looks into the mage’s face, and there he notes how he wickedly smiles, almost as if the fear all around him was empowering.

Shining Armor slowly recovers from his blow to the head. Still, even in his addled state, he can see the blood orb forming. He is completely unable to rationalize the horror before him. He can only stagger back as the foul sphere turns to a crystalline material. He looks to the mage’s face, and there he sees a satisfaction that sends chills down his spine.

The goat makes a single downward motion with his hoof. A low rumble erupts all around the alley. In a matter of seconds, the giant sphere of crimson crashes on the ground with enough power to warp the walls around its impact as it forms a massive tidal wave that sweeps everything in the alley.

Ingot and Shining Armor are swept in the wave, dragged against the very ground as sharp shards of ice cut away at them and all manner of objects slam against them. The wave erupts out of the alley and into the nearby street, where it sweeps up auto-carriages and unsuspecting ponies. It travels for a few more yards before slamming against the next row of businesses and homes, smashing glass and breaking walls. Only then does the wave die down, almost every drop of the crimson liquid evaporating in a red mist.

The first to recover from the attack is Ingot. He stands up, coughing up blood that isn’t his. He turns to see Shining Armor, and is horrified when he sees the young lieutenant sprawled on the hood of an overturned auto-carriage. All around, he can hear the groans and cries of the dozens of ponies who were caught in the foul wave.

As the captain limps towards the young lieutenant, he notes in horror that blood still stains his coat. Worse, it is moving. It doesn’t take him long to feel a creeping pain shoot up all four of his limbs. He falls on his belly and gazes on with terror as all four of his limbs are encased. He screams as something sharp digs under the skin. Within seconds, the blood has spread all through his body, and is encasing him in red ice. Ingot turns furiously towards the rapidly approaching fell mage. Before he has a chance to react, he is levitated off the ground and brought before the goat. He struggles, but it only leads to further pain. Finally, he gazes into the goat’s very eyes, scowling and groaning.

The fell mage lets his eyes glow once again, and seconds later, Shining Armor’s saber floats next to his head. He looks Captain Ingot in the eyes and smiles. “You are a traitor and a monster, Ingot. I hope you burn in Tartarus.”

“Screw y—” before Ingot can finish his words, the goat swings the saber. It slices right through the captain’s neck as if it was butter. The blood around Ingot’s body evaporates, the now lifeless shell hitting the ground with a dull thud.

The goat turns to the still unconscious lieutenant and slowly walks towards him. He readies the saber as he approaches him. “One more traitor to go,” he says. He halts right beside the lieutenant. Carefully, he aims the saber directly at his heart.

He closes his eyes and sighs. “It didn’t have to end like this, you know. You could have rejected their offer, fought against those who control this nation from the shadows… but you chose to serve them. You’re a traitor, and all traitors must die…” The blade shakes. It’s almost as if the goat is hesitating.

I telekinetically bring my hoof repeater to bear and fire. The added adrenaline causes the world to pass me by in slow motion, and I can see my weapon’s recoil kick against my telekinesis. Magic—powerful and awesome—surges through the repeater’s construct and out the barrel. It propels the steel bolt forward faster than the most agile pegasus can ever hope to fly. I see the flash momentarily shroud my vision, followed by the ferocious and deafening sound of thunder. For the first time in a long while, I beg that my shot hits the mark without any deviation.

The saber—mere millimeters from ending Shining Armor’s life—breaks in twain from my shot. I let out a sigh of relief. Still, I know well my work’s only half done—I still have to neutralize that Crux Nato bastard.

Wasting no time, I allow myself to be consumed by emerald flames. A mere fraction of a second later, the flames die out, and I’m no longer myself. I’m a wholly new being, one capable of incredible feats of strength. I’m a minotaur, and I will use my new power to make that bastard pay. Dearly.

It only takes me two seconds to cover the remaining distance and deliver my blow. The goat’s honestly surprised at my sudden appearance. He’s even more surprised when my newly formed fist digs right into his muzzle. The blow’s so powerful he’s sent flying into a nearby auto-carriage, shattering what windows weren’t already broken and denting the hood. I turn to check on Shining Armor. He’s battered, but breathing. I turn my full attention—and fury—back to the goat. I again dash forward, covering the distance in a matter of a second. I move to grab the mage’s head and end his wretched existence then and there.

Quite unexpectedly, the goat bucks me with strength I didn’t know he still had. My new body takes the attack beautifully—muscles absorbing the blow. Still, I’m pushed back a hoof, more out of shock than pain. The space the goat creates allows him to plant himself firm on the ground and cast a spell over me. Instantly, I know what sort of spell it is: an arcane energy canceller. I feel myself being again wrapped in emerald flames, only this time, they aren’t voluntary. When the fire recedes, I’m once again a changeling—weak and vulnerable. Worse, I don’t even get a chance to really take my situation in before the goat delivers a powerful ram, knocking me off my hooves and almost causing me to upchuck my coffee.

I spin around and face the mage. I know what’s coming now that I’m completely vulnerable. Swiftly, I kick with my front legs and somersault backwards a few hoofs off the ground before I land. Soon as I do, I kick the ground, pushing me forward. The goat summons his black-colored magic blade and attempts to take my head off. I duck to avoid his slice and pass right under his swing. I use my forehooves to stop my advance and meet the mage just as he turns to face me. With one mighty blow, I deliver the most powerful buck I can muster straight to the bastard’s neck. The attack is so devastating it dispels his blade and forces him to staggers backwards, coughing vigorously but silently. He looks to me and snarls, his lips soundlessly moving.

He readies to cast a flash spell. soon as I see his eyes glow, I shut mine and face away. The roar of the spell’s still deafening, but even without proper hearing, I still have my eyesight. I turn back just in time to see him try and run me through with a new magic blade. I jump backwards and avoid the first swipe. The second one comes far too close for comfort, taking a bit out of my frills. The third one I manage to parry with my repeater, but I’m not fast enough—the blade still manages to cut a deep gash on my right hoof.

As I see my blood flow, I’m suddenly tempted to give the goat bastard a taste of his own medicine. I can feel the words forming on my lips. Just one attack; that’s all I need… I bury the idea. I will not stoop to his level.

I look around in the hopes of finding a piece of loose metal from one of the damaged auto-carriages. Instead, my eyes fall on the most beautiful piece weapon engineering I have ever seen: a lever-operated blunderbuss. Even better, the weapon had a bayonet attached to it, one that also bore runic symbols to empower it with the same cutting prowess of a magical blade. My mind momentarily wonders to whom such a beautiful piece of weaponry belonged, but that thought’s replaced by another: get that weapon!

I waste no time. Seconds later, I parry two swings from the goat’s blade with no issue. On the third one, I shove the blunderbuss’ butt on his chest and push him back. Using feigns and misdirection, I managed to bypass the goat’s surprisingly solid defensive stance and deliver two well-placed stabs. Much like our first encounter, though, what should have easily been two killing blows were blocked by a thick gel-like film of crimson material over the goat’s coat. I find it odd that it would be present now, and not when I sucker-punched him as a minotaur. I guess that it is a voluntary defense mechanism based on blood magic, though how he’d managed to get it working without actually being able to speak baffled me. Perhaps it was an inherent ability. Whatever the case, it prevented me from finishing him off, turning the fight into a stalemate.

I remember the weapon wrapped in my telekinesis was in fact a hoof-held cannon. After managing to deliver yet another stab, I knock the level and fire. The blast is absolutely awesome, sending both me and the goat flying couple of hoofs away from the sheer power alone. To my great dismay, the goat slowly stands back up again—scorched, but very much alive. My hopes raise, however, for the weapon had managed to push him back significantly. I can still win this fight.

I hear sirens in the distance. More shocking, I hear what sounds like the beating of dozens of wings. I look skywards to see a squadron of pegasi and batpony equestrian guards heading my way. I turn back to the goat, who looks perturbed by the sight. He shifts his gaze to me and frowns. He lets his eyes glow. Seconds later, what appears to be some kind of vortex appears. I grimace; the bastard’s trying to make a run for it.

Tossing caution to the wind, I gallop towards the goat, firing round after round both from the blunderbuss and my own hoof repeater. Each shot strikes him with fury, but his defenses still prove too strong. Piercing his seemingly impenetrable protection isn’t my goal though—I’m trying to stop his escape.

Left and right, guards dive down and gracefully land, weapons drawn and ready to attack. The bulkier pegasis form a single line and charge, spears and shields raised. The nimbler batponies choose to circle the goat, swooping down to deliver quick jabs with their hoof blades. Their attacks do marvels at keeping the goat from running. I put the blunderbuss away and continue edging closer. Each bolt I fire causes my foe to hesitate as he either dodgers it or deflects it. It makes dodging the guard’s attacks almost impossible.

Suddenly, the goat unleashes a primal scream, and a wave of dark amethyst energy erupts from his being. The lance wielding guards are set flying backwards a considerable distance. The batponies are flung into nearby buildings, smashing into walls and through windows. A few of the guards are quick enough to use their shields to block the wave of energy, but even they end up tumbling down the streets. Using the blunderbuss as a pike, I’m able to resist being blow away.

I recover and look to the mage. He’s panting, barely able to hold the weight of his own body. I take the opportunity to resume my charge. Several guards also take my example and rush ahead of me. I’m so close now. All I have to do is reach out a hoof and tackle him, maybe break a foreleg or two in the process. So concentrated I am on harming him that I don’t realize he’s willed a lilac miasmal dagger. He uses it to destroy the guard’s weapons before turning it to me. Before I can turn around and start in the opposite direction, I feel the blade pierce my chest. It goes right through the mythril vest and easily breaks through my chitin. My magic fades as I take two feeble steps back. I look to the goat. His eyes are wide in utter terror and… sorrow? He takes two unease step back before jumping into the vortex. The gateway closes soon as he’s through.

I fall on my haunches, looking down at the still glowing magic dagger. Soon as I move a hoof to touch it, it vanishes, leaving behind a deep gash. Shaking, I reach into my trench coat and bring out a small vial of extra strength healing potion. I pop open the vial and down half of it in one gulp. The rest I pour over the wound. Within seconds, the potion takes effect, and the wound stops bleeding. It will take longer for full healing—even longer for the pain to go away. I look at the spot of the injury. Half an inch more to the left, and the blade would have pierced my heart…

My thoughts turn to Shining Armor. I trot towards him as fast as my healing wound will let me. I reach him and try to shake him awake. He does not respond.

I turn around and come face to face with Ingot’s headless body. I fall on my haunches and take in the sight. My eyes fall on his worn and battered badge, now stained with few droplets of his blood. I turn away, unable to take in the horror. “I… I was too late.” I whisper to myself. “I was too late to save them...”

I slam my hoof on the snow and sneer. I’ll find you, you bastard. I’ll find you and make you pay! As the blood in my veins boils, I can feel something creeping along my left foreleg. I’ll kill you. Kill you! KILL YOU! I keep slamming the ground over and over. With each slam, I can feel the ground getting softer and softer. I’ll look for you till the ends of this earth, tear down anything and anyone who stands in my way. I’ll bathe in your blood and parade your wretched corpse through the streets!

The sound of earth crumbling snaps me out of my bloodlust. Slowly, I gaze down at my hoof. My eyes widen in horror as I realize it’s entirely encased in crimson crystalline. Worse, it’s stuck inside of a small crater.

With but a thought, I dispel the ghastly effect, but the damage is already done. I look up at the guards who aided me in the battle. They all look at me with horror and alarm. I can see the younger ones readying their weapons. I gaze at the crater. Bitterly, I smile. In the end, I’m still a monster.

You’ll always be a monster, the little changeling in my head whispers. Always.

Shall I tell you what the real evil is?
To cringe to the things that are called evils, to surrender to them our freedom, in defiance of which we ought to face any suffering

The Fifth

by Dconstructed Reconstruct

We Ought To Face Any Suffering