//------------------------------// // It's Not Fair // Story: The Road to Prolegomena // by stanku //------------------------------// The Road to Prolegomena By Stanku Proofreaders: Lordfrieza, Senyu Amidst the shadows of pines, near the toes of the mountains, and in the earshot of roaring rapids, there rests a cabin. The simple structure of unpainted wood and tarred gabled roof hides in the scenery; it melts into the deep green woods as if some spell covered it. The cabin belongs there; along with the pines, the mountains, and the river, it declares its right to exist on this very place with a tacit statement that shines from its stout figure. That is what having a home means, belonging, thinks a unicorn stallion who stands on a cliff some hundred meters above the building, studying the panoramic view with narrowed, glinting eyes. The wind blows from behind him, sending his rich and rugged mane swinging like long lichen tangled in a tree. He breathes in the fresh air, closing his wrinkled eyebrows, listening to the mountains bellowing all around him. When he opens them, his attention is drawn to movement from down below. A deer, he thinks at first. No, a pony. Deer don’t wear saddlebags. Nor hooded capes. He peers at the figure making its way up the steep mountain trail, leaning slightly over the edge to get a better look. That is unexpected. Why would anypony venture this far to the wilderness? He pulls back as a loose rock stumbles down in front of his hooves. It disappears into the gorge below in seconds. In any case, seems like they are coming straight to my home. The unicorn's thick mane covers his face as he turns to face the wind, but he clears his vision with a hoof and picks up his saddlebag, beginning his long descent down. He doesn’t use magic, but takes every step with his own hooves.         As he finally gets down on the level with his cabin, he sees that the stranger has already arrived. Waiting by the porch, the hood shadowing their face, the visitor seems as they were expecting the stallion to arrive. The unicorn takes his time walking to them, never once taking his purple eyes off the figure. He stops well away from them, putting down his saddlebag before speaking. “What is your business here, stranger?” he asks warily. “Have you lost your way?” The hooded pony remains silent. “Or have you come here to meet me?” continues the stallion. “If so, I would like to see your face. And hear your name, if you happen to have one.” Only the winds answer to him, roaring alongside the river behind him. “Are you alright in there?” he asks, narrowing down his eyes. “I’m sorry,” whispers a voice from the depths of the hood. “I’m so sorry.” “Come again? These old ears of mine didn’t quite catch th–” A ray of dark purple light, mixed with veins of feverish green and black, surges towards the stallion from the confines of the hood, cutting short his sentence. It stops a mere horn-length from his face, crackling as it tries to burn through a light-blue forcefield that he summoned just in the nick of time. The violet energy intensifies and grows darker, and the stallion can feel his spell crumbling before its strength. This magic is powerful; way beyond my capacities. I have to flee before–  Suddenly, the hostile energy pulls back and wraps around the dome that surrounds the old unicorn, spreading around him like a large blanket. He can do nothing but stare in terror and awe as it covers his shield entirely, and very slowly, begins to compress it. Only seconds later it has pushed his own spell just some centimeters from his body. Is he going to crush me to death? His mind fills with the sounds of snapping bones and tearing limbs, and like a sinkhole, they swallow his sanity piece by piece. Without realizing it, he starts to pray. Then his wide, wild eyes meet his enemy. At once, the blind fear evaporates in the face of a genuine confusion. A mare… A young mare. I’m going to be smashed to pulp by a mare young enough to be my daugther. Even at this distance, the stallion can see the glint of hate in the eyes of his assailant, now unveiled of her hood. But... I don’t even know your name… I have never seen your face… His own spell, glowing dimmer now, presses against his ribs, his neck, his beard. It doesn’t stop there. No, no, no! It’s enclosing too fast, too fast, too close. The fear returns, more paralysing than ever. He closes his eyes, focusing all mental energy on pushing back her magic. For a few seconds, the dark purple dome crackles, expands, and then compresses again.   Could this be Celestia’s doing? Is this her idea of justice? A grunt of pain escapes him as the aura tightens even more. I’m going to die, I’m going to die. I’m going to die screaming. His eyes flash open, wide and wild. “Stop!” he shrieks. “Please, make it stop!” His tail gets squashed against his flank. Can she even hear me through this bubble? Or does she not care? How can she hate me so, to do this to me, this… He can see it now. A pool of blood, shreds of coat, and some flesh from which broken bones protrude. His future. His very near future. Seeing it in his eyes, there is only one thing a sane mind can do to escape it. There’s no point in trying to prolong this. He closes his eyes. And cancels the shielding spell. He expects the agony to enrobe him at the instant; instead, nothing happens. Then, under the familiar roar of the river, he hears sounds of a struggle. With extreme wariness, he cracks open his eyelids. He sees two mares, a unicorn and a pegasus, wrestling on the ground some meters away from the place where the unicorn stood just a moment ago, ready to squish him with his own spell. The pegasus is shouting something at the unicorn, but he can’t make out the words for the fury of the rapid. He does see, though, when the unicorn’s cape gets torn off her in the heat of the fight. The old stallion gasps as he spots the wings on the lavender unicorn’s back. An alicorn? But she is so young! How is that possible? What is going on? Enthralled by the sight, the stallion is about to take a step closer to the two fighting mares, but he can’t make a move before a soft voice addresses him from behind. “I’m terribly sorry about this,” is all he can hear before a sharp blow sends him tumbling on the ground, flaring pain searing the back of his head. Before the dark fills his eyes, he sees how the alicorn wraps the pegasus into a cloud of purple magic and throws her high into the air like a rag. The alicorn stands up, her horn glowing sinister purple. A bolt of pure energy leaps off it just before the cyan mare reaches the alicorn and brings them both to the ground in a flurry of hooves and wings. The stallion doesn’t see what happens to the two, for his fleeting consciousness is nailed at the purple arrow that speeds towards him, cracking and fizzling as it crosses the grass in the likeness of a sprinting wolf. It won’t be stopped, it can’t be stopped, it hits him any second now… It’s stopped by the body of a pegasus mare, yellow as wheat bathing in the light of the summer sun. The last thing he sees is her collapsing to the ground. ***  He wakes up to the feeling of cold wetness travelling over his brow and scalp. A trickle of water runs into his eyes as he opens them, making him blink. Some of the liquid travels into his mouth, and he can taste the familiar flavour of salt and iron mixed into the water. Blood. My blood. The salt smarts his eyes as he opens them again, but for some reason he can’t bring his hoof to wipe them clean. Through the moistness, he can make out a figure of a mare standing over him, her horn glowing faintly. “Who are you?” he asks, squinting. “What is happening to me?” “No need to worry. I am just cleaning this blood off you. I have no words to express my grievance over the fact that I had to hit you with a rock, but rest assured in the knowledge that I found no joy in the act.” The mare wipes his brow a bit more, and then squeezes the rug clean atop a bucket next to her. The light red liquid dribbles down, and splashing noises fill the stallion’s ears. “When it comes to my name, it’s Rar–” “–Don’t tell him your name!” snaps a sharp, mildly raspy voice from somewhere out of the stallion’s field of vision. He tries to strain his neck to see better, but finds moving his upper body impossible. Am I tied to my own bed, in my own cabin? “We had to tie you up,” says the mare next to him, sinking the rag into a clean bucket. “I am sorry about that, too.” She begins to wipe his head again. “The wound isn’t too bad, in the case you were wondering,” she continues with a casual tone. “Head wounds just tend to bleed a lot. I remember this one occasion when Sweetie Belle–” “–Don’t tell him anything, Rar!” shouts the same raspy voice. The unicorn mare turns abruptly towards the voice. “Well excuse me if I feel obliged to tend a senior pony whose head I just split open, right after Twilight tried to kill him!” “Are you deaf or what?!” continues the other voice. “Don’t use names! And get over here: Flutter–I mean, uhm… Just get over here!” “What’s wrong with her?” asks the unicorn anxiously, dropping the rag as she walks quickly out of the stallion’s sight. The two ponies keep on talking, but quieter now, and he can’t make out what they’re saying. Is my head really split? wonders the stallion absentmindedly, staring at the ceiling. I do feel weirdly light… Perhaps I’m going to die, after all. His ears register another loud argument erupting between the two ponies, with the words like “Twilight”, “potion”, and “hopefully” crisscrossing in the air in a seemingly meaningless order. Perhaps death wouldn't be the worst option available at the moment… This headache is worse than the time I ran head-on to the lamp-post as a colt. He tries to move his front hooves again to ease the stinging of his eyes, but the ropes holding him down are skilfully knotted. After some hesitation, his horn glimmers faintly, but the light dies down quickly. It’s no use. My mind is too weak now. He closes his eyes and submits to the confines of his eyelids. The throbbing pain, the noises, the feeling of ropes digging into his limbs: they all fall to the background as he concentrates on his breathing, on the one thing he is still in full control of. His chest heaves gently in rhythm of his lungs, and muscle by muscle, his tensed body relaxes under the constraints, under the pain, and under the fear. I am nothing but a hull, but a shell, but a husk. My body is my burden, my soul is my crime. Mother Earth, Father Mountain, Brother River… I will join with you soon. He loses consciousness with a faint smile on his lips.   ***        When he wakes up for the second time, it’s dead quiet, and despite his eyes being wide open, he can’t see a thing. It takes him a moment to realize that instead of gazing at the Other Side, the night has finally fallen on the mountains. And I’m still tied down. Did they just leave me like this? Or are they sleeping here, too? His attempts to rise up prove as futile as the last time, but now that his own blood isn’t clouding him anymore, he can get a better view of the dim room he is in. They tied me to my bedroom. Why are they doing this to me? What more have they planned on doing? This headache is killing me... Minutes pile on top of each other as the stallion lies in the darkness, unable to sleep, unable to stay awake. Just as he is about to try freeing himself with magic again, the closed bedroom door creaks. Instinctively he closes his eyes and lets his body fall limp. Steps intrude his ears, steps calm and silent as a cat’s. Behind the closed eyelids, his gaze focuses towards the noise that stops right by his bead. It’s the alicorn. I know it is. She has come to finish me off, just like her friend said…  His pulse gets higher by the second, and despite his best efforts, he is beginning to inhale faster. She is looking at me, studying me, pondering whether to go for the head or the heart. I’m ready, you bitch, you freak of nature. Do it. Do it now. Nothing happens. Only the seconds die in their scores, every agonizing demise adding just a little bit more weight to the stallion’s aged heart, adding just another doubt into his mind. What are you waiting for? For me to wake up? I won’t give you the pleasure, bitch. I won’t. A whole minute later, and he can feel moistness forming under his back. I’m going to scream, I’m going to scream. Kill me, don’t kill me, whatever you came here to do, do it already. I don’t want to die sweating like a pig, I don’t, I don’t want to… die. His lips crack open, ready to say something. “Twilight?” whispers a soft voice from the doorstep. “What are you doing?” He almost throws open his eyes, but instead manages to let out a sleepy grunt. He hears some movement by his side, guessing that the alicorn turned to look at the speaker. “Nothing… I wasn’t going to do anything,” answers the one called Twilight, sounding surprised. “I just… wanted to look at him.” “Why?” asks the voice whom the stallion now recognizes belonging to the mare who treated his wound earlier. “I… He…” “Would you come back to sleep now?” He can’t sense nor hear movement near him. “Twilight…” continues the unicorn’s emphatic voice. “One of these nights, you have to sleep more than a few hours.” Against all his reason and survival instincts, the stallion can’t help himself anymore, but cracks one of his eyelids as little as possible to get a glimpse of what’s happening in the room. He sees the alicorn’s backside, and to her left, the unicorn mare who is standing by the door. The alicorn sways slightly while she stands, as if she might collapse at any moment. Her head is drooping heavily.   “I can’t, Rarity… Every time I close my eyes, every time sleep tries to get hold of me... all I can see is Canterlot burning. Screaming. Dying.” Her voice succumbs again near the end of her sentence. “How can't you see that, too?” “What makes you think I don't?” says Rarity. Her words almost fail to reach the stallion. “I was there, too. I was there when the Castle gates fell. I was there when…” Her rich curls hide her face as she averts the alicorn’s gaze. “I was there.” “How can you sleep, then?” asks Twilight. Silence descends in the room, veiling the ponies there like a cloak. “We are alive, thus we need sleep," responds Rarity. "We will find it, dreams or no.” She extends a hoof towards Twilight. “Please. Come search with me.” They leave the room without another word and close the door after them, leaving the stallion alone with his questions. Canterlot, burning? When, how, why? Has the world gone insane? The last remark forces a muffled chuckle out of him. No… The world has only come to realize that it was insane to begin with.                                                     *** Under the same moon that harbors the cottage, Canterlot can’t find sleep. On the streets and city squares, ponies of different ages, sizes, and races work without rest, without sleep, without pause. They work without knowing why. Torches and bonfires light their night and paint their empty, hollow faces with shadows. Nopony speaks, but nonetheless they work in unison, leveling buildings here and there, digging open a street cobblestone by cobblestone, building forges like ones the city has never seen. The magical city has turned into a massive construction yard, into an intricate machine with a single purpose; a purpose nopony knows. However, no matter how delicate a machinery is, no matter how craftily the parts connect to each other to create a whole, there is always room for anomalies to seep in. Anomalies such as a family of three unicorns, hiding in a cellar, cowering in the dark, avoiding one anothers faces. A little colt, dark as a blueberry, clasps to his mother, a cream white mare with a raven mane. The mother soothes her foal, whispering words of some lullaby. The father, grim straining his face, watches the two halves of his heart, his eyes filled with anxiousness. “It’s time,” he whispers, cringing as he hears footsteps carrying from the street above. He looks at the small cellar window, behind which shadows move away. He sighs in relief and stands up. “Follow me.” “No!” whines the colt into her mother’s chest. “I don’t want to, they’ll find us, they’ll–” “Quiet, Berryfer,” says the stallion. “They will find us here for certain. It's too late to back off the plan now.” The colt’s pleas only get more fervent. “They’ll take you away, just like they took away everypony else, just like they took away Dawn’s parents… and Stonecraft’s, and Sugar Blossom’s, and–” “Hush now, dear,” says the mare, brushing the colt’s soft mane and kissing his brow. “They won’t take us. We won’t let them.” The colt’s whining turns into sobbing, yet he doesn’t say a word. The mare plants another kiss on his cheek. “Remember what I told you yesternight?” “Y-yeah…” The mother smiles faintly, brushing her foal’s mane with her muzzle. “Could you say it for me, please?” “There’s no time,” begins the stallion, glancing at the cellar window again. “We need to go before–” He quiets down as he sees his wife’s expression. She looks at the colt again, gently lifting his trembling chin with a hoof. “Recite me the poem, Berryfer.” The colt swallows a bitter mouthful. With a thin, wavering voice, he says: “Night so dark there exists not that the Sun, bright and hot wouldn't there ever trot.” The colt looks at his mother’s eyes, into the pools of green that where the first part of reality he ever saw, and the tears dry. They still press his eyes, but now he fights them back, the words of the poem his shield. He recites it again, a bit louder this time. “Good colt,” says the mare, her eyes shimmering. “I love you so very much.” The two hug each other tightly. “We must go,” says the stallion after a moment, his voice softer now. “Follow me.” With some difficulty, the colt gets up after his mother and huddles strongly against her flank. All three stay quiet as they fumble their way across the dim cellar, avoiding crates and worn furniture. Hoofsteps ring in the small space as they meet the cold stone floor. Soon they’ve made it under the stairs, where the stallion turns to face the other two. “Wait here,” he whispers and starts to climb. The heavy cellar door creaks nastily as he pushes it open a bit and slips outside. At the base of the wooden steps, the two ponies wait and stare at the opening above. Minutes pass painfully slow. “Did they get him?” asks the colt, holding his breath. To the mare's relief, the stallion appears behind the door before she can answer.   “The way is clear, come quickly,” he says. When the colt reaches his father, he presses tightly against him. “Come now, son,” hushes the stallion, rubbing his mane with a hoof. “They're not going to catch your old pa that easily.” Berryfer only clasps more fervently to the stallion. In the end, he has to push his son away from him. “That’s enough. The others are waiting upstairs. Let’s go.” They exit the cellar, leaving the door open behind them. After crossing a corridor and another set of stairs, they enter into a large kitchen. Empty pots and kettles stare at them as they go for the door beyond, and shards of broken plates crack like thunder under their hooves. Nopony can hear that, the stallion tells himself. We’re deep inside the mansion, no noise can carry into the streets from here. The kitchen door opens without a complaint, revealing a dining hall behind. The stench of rotten food fills their noses, and the colt gags involuntarily. They walk quickly to the other side, through the double doors that lead to the main living room. In there, they meet seven more ponies. An elderly pegasus mare, two earth pony fillies and a colt, an earth pony stallion and two young mares, one of whom is a pegasus, the other a common pony. Their differences in social class, appearance, and age all lose their meaning in the face of the fear they share, in the tacit terror that shines from their eyes. The only exception is the elderly mare, whose sight is as grey as her mane. “Did the rabbits come out of their hole already?” she asks, her head turning towards the opening the door. “Mother!” snaps the younger pegasus mare, glaring at the elder one. She is immediately hushed down by the two other adults. “Stop calling them that,” she adds more quietly. “It makes no matter, Flight,” says the father calmly as the family of unicorns joins in with the others. “We are all here now. Is the way clear?” The other stallion nods at him. “Just checked. There’s nopony around the building.” He hesitates a moment and then adds: “The moon is up and bright, though. Maybe we should–” “–Wait for the clouds to wander around?” finishes the earth pony mare, looking annoyedly at the stallion. “That might take hours.” One by one, she looks at each adult in the eyes. ”There’s no telling when they start tearing the houses down again. This is our shot. We should just go for it.” “What if it’s a trap?” asks the elderly pegasus, her blind eyes looking a bit off of the earth pony mare. “They might be out of their minds, but who’s to say they ain’t smart?” The cream-white mare takes a step forward. “The only thing we know for certain about them is that ever since last week, they've turned the city upside down. Literally. It maybe only a matter of time before they come for this house.” “That’s a big ‘maybe’,” says the elder mare under her breath. Her words tie everypony’s tongues into a knot. They all steal glances at one another’s faces, all the foals looking either at the adults or at each other as they huddle closer to their parents. A weird thought crosses the father’s mind as he studies the small group of survivors that chance has brought together. We’re all strangers here, as scared of each other as we are of the perils outside. He clears his throat to draw everypony’s attention. “We can talk about our situation for hours, just like we have ever since the world turned insane. We are scared, insecure, unaware of what's happening outside.” He puts a hoof on his wife’s neck, drawing her closer. “But if there is one thing I’m certain of, then it’s that we have become tired of waiting for things to get worse. We are leaving the city tonight. Those of you who want to stay here are welcomed to do so.” He pays a glance at the two pegasus mares. “The rest of you: once we get outside the city, remember that numbers count. A larger group has a better chance of making it out there than a small one.” “But that ain’t the point,” continues the elder mare with a dry, rough voice. “The city is in lockdown, we all know that. Guards at the gates, perimeters everywhere, torches, pegasus patrols… You’d be lucky to make it to the outer city.” The grey stare sweeps the small group, making the foals cower deeper behind their parents’ legs. The father studies her calmly. “Who agrees with Agathea here?” he asks without taking his eyes off her. For a moment, silence reigns supreme. Then the other pegasus coughs. “I can’t leave my mother… I’m sorry.” Her gaze turns to the carpet. He doesn’t pay her any attention. “Anypony else?” “We’re with you,” says the earth pony mare. Her husband and the three foals nod at her words. The father smiles at them faintly and looks at his son and wife. “Very well, then. First we need to–” A massive crash, like a full grown oak splitting in two, fills the living room and sends everypony there panicking. Terrified, shrill screams of the foals mix in with the alarmed questions of the adults. “What the hay was that?!” “Did they break in?!” “What's happening?!” Another loud noise floods in and drowns all the other voices. This time, the tide of splintering wood is accompanied by a violent shaking that brings down one of the cabinets. The shattering glass brings its formidable addition to the cacophony of dissonance that rages in the room. The father, as in a trance, realizes that somepony is shouting at him. He turns his head to the left and sees the terror-struck face of his wife staring at him. “That came from the back,” she repeats, panic seeping through every syllable. “That came from the back.” He blinks as he understands. The Oak Gate. They demolished the Oak Gate. A third crash, the loudest so far, carries from somewhere behind them. The noise is different now, it sounds like a rockslide just broke into a china shop. “The stables,” he says, more to himself than to anypony else. “Everypony, to the stables!” He has to repeat himself a couple of times before they hear him. “It’s our only chance!” They look at him, then at one another, and at the same time, they run. The three little foals line in between their parents, and the pegasus mare helps her mother as they fly after them, disappearing through a set of double doors. Another shock travels through the building, sending plates and other artefacts rattling in their cupboards. Falling dust from the ceiling makes Berryfer cough as his mother pulls him towards the others. “Wait,” says the father, his tone less urgent now. “Not that way. Follow me.” The mare turns a confused look at him. “But you said–” “I know what I said. There's no time to argue: hurry up!” Berryfer glances up at his mother and sees the flash of doubt in her eyes. Nonetheless, she obeys, and together they follow the stallion who heads for the third door in the living room, opening it with his horn. He ushers them through and pays one last glimpse to the living room of his ancestors. Heavy dust floats in the air, and most of the decorative artworks that he has been collecting half of his life are nothing but ruins now. Another shockwave makes the chandelier come down in a spectacular show of breaking glass and heritage. He closes the door with a thud. After galloping across several corridors and beautifully decorated rooms, the mare stops abruptly, holding back the colt, too. “Not a step more, Arch Freight. Not until you tell us where we're going.” Arch Freight glances behind him. “To the Southern Entry. Once we make it past the garden, we can–” “What?” blurts the mare. “That was not the plan! We were supposed to take the wagons filled with rubble and exit through the–” “We can’t do it anymore: the intruders will have brought their own carriages along. We would be spotted at once.” Her eyes narrow down. “But you sent the others…” In one fell moment, the lines of confusion disappear from her brow. “No… You used them as a b–” “It wasn't supposed to go like this,” hurries Arch Freight to say before the mare’s revelation can catch onto the colt. “It’s done. Please… There is no time.” Berryfer looks at his mother, then at his father, oblivious of what is going on, secure in the thought that whatever it is, it’s not going to end well. A feeling of biting cold creeping up along his leg makes his eyes dart down. Through the floorboards, a tentacle of black smoke rises and wraps around his ankle. He’d scream, but the air in his throat has frozen. “Berryfer!” shrieks the mare as she sees her foal’s distress. She stomps on the tentacle, and despite its seemingly non-corporeal form, it writhes in agony as the hoof lands on top of it. It doesn’t let go of the colt, though. The mare stomps again, but to no avail. On the third attempt, another limb build of mist emerges from down below, grabs her ankle, and pulls violently. The mare lets out a cry of pain as her knee hits the floor. “Arch!” she shouts hysterically. “Help him, help him, help h–” A brilliant light fills the corridor, blinding both the foal and the mare. It dies down as suddenly as it appeared, and when the two can see again, they notice the now severed tentacles twisting and wriggling painfully on the ground, quickly fading away like steam. They look at Arch Freight, whose horn glows faintly in the dim. “Get up,” he says. Nothing happens. “Get up!” he barks. They get up and gallop after him. Behind them, fresh limbs dark as coal spawn from the floor, groping blindly around. ***  In the cabin hiding in the mountains, a stallion is woken up roughly from the strangest dream he has had for a while. Except that it was no dream, he thinks as he sees the cyan mare with a rainbow mane shaking him from the shoulders, sneering. “Wake up, sunshine,” she says with her peculiarly hoarse voice. “Time to chat.” She lets go of him and takes a few steps backwards, her short mane swinging idly over her left eye. The stallion tries to move his hooves and to his surprise finds the constraints gone. He steps on the severed ropes as he stands up, every muscle in his body complaining of the treatment they’ve been under for the whole night. A nasty cracking sound cuts the air as he stretches his aching limbs and joints. The mare sneers at the sight and sounds. “Do your aerobics or whatever on your own time. We got some questions for you.” The stallion gives her a long look from under his thick eyebrows, continuing with his exercises as if nothing had happened. “You deaf or just difficult, old rag?” she continues. “Get on with it already!” “Will you give him some rest!” snaps Rarity's voice from the other room. “He has been tied to his bed for the whole night!” The sight of the cyan mare’s rage boiling in her eyes stirs a faint smile out of the stallion. The pegasus eyes him for a moment and then snorts. “You got five. Come out of here then or I’ll straighten those joints out for you.” She flies to the other room with a few beats of her wings. “And don’t close the door!” she cries from the other side. They certainly aren’t a typical bunch of bandits, these mares. He crouches his back, wincing as a vertebra clicks into its proper place. I’d wager my beard that Celestia didn’t send them, though. Even she wouldn’t get so desperate as to put idiots like these after me. His neck crunches like frozen snow while he turns it from side to side. That doesn’t leave much room for guessing. They must be some treasure hunters after the formula. Poor souls must have heard the tales from somewhere and somehow managed to track me down. The only question is how they are going to react when they hear that I don’t have anything for them? He shakes his flanks a couple of times and then walks over to the other room where four pairs of eyes simultaneously turn on him. Discounting the cyan pegasus, who is floating in the air, all are seemingly casually lying on their stomachs. He gives each one of them a glimpse of his deep purple gaze. First he glances at the rainbow pegasus, whose suspicion couldn’t get any more evident. The tough one. Perhaps the leader, or at least wants to be. Bothersome, but not a real threat. Next the seemingly idle eyes travel to Rarity. The worrying one. Might be playing some act with the tough one, trying to get under my coat. I need to keep an eye on her. A light-yellow pegasus with a pink mane is the next one on the line. So you’re the one who took that bolt for me yesterday. We shall see if you end up regretting that decision. He notices a fresh scar on the mare’s chest. I wonder how you survived that. Finally, there is Twilight. The troubled one. I still sense that you want to kill me, although I have no idea why. It’s hard to extract a complicated formula from a smashed brain. “Sit,” says the cyan pegasus, floating one metre off the ground. He obeys calmly, looking at his sullen company with blank eyes. “So…” he starts. “From what I’ve heard, you don’t fancy addressing each other with your real names in my presence. That still doesn’t mean that an introduction on my part wouldn't be in order. My name is–” “–Draught Tear, yeah, we know,” spits the cyan pegasus. “I think we’re past introductions by now.” He gives her a peculiar look. “Yes,” he says after a moment. “That is my name. Draught Tear. May I ask how–” “Nope, you can’t,” interrupts the pegasus, flying right in front of him. “We ask, you answer, that’s it.” She turns abruptly around, pointing at Rarity whose mouth had just opened disapprovingly. “And you can save your comments for later! This is an interrogation, not a tea party!” barks the pegasus. Rarity frowns, but she shuts her mouth nonetheless. The pegasus turns back to the stallion. “Got the rules, Professor?” He nods slowly. “Awesome. Now, the first question: how do we stop the bitch queen you let loose on Canterlot?” Even bare stone would look vivid compared to the stallion’s expression. He blinks and looks at the other mares in the simple room, all of whom look expectantly at him. He blinks again and then finally blurts: “What?” The rainbow pegasus gives her a sharp slap of her hoof. “Two rules, and you still can’t remember them. Try again.” “RD!” cries Rarity. The one called RD spins around. “Shut up, Rar’! I can’t do this if you keep–” “Please stop fighting…” whimpers the yellow pegasus, cowering into her thick mane. The cyan mare, floating in the air, slaps herself on the forehead with a hoof. “Oh gimme me a break… Both of you, just get out of here. Twi and I are gonna manage just fine alone.” “And let you beat an old pony in peace!” erupts Rarity, standing up. “In your dreams you, you… bully!” “Could everypony just calm down, please…” whispers the pegasus lying on the carpet, her voice muffled by her mane. “A bully?” blurts the cyan mare, incredulous. “Me?! Who you think we’re dealing with here!” She points at the stallion who is rubbing his reddening cheek with the side of his hoof. “That guy is the reason we’re in this mess to begin with! Without him, Celestia and Luna wouldn’t be… and Twilight…” Her face twists in pain and rage, and the words choke in her throat. “I should’ve let her kill him.” All the ponies fall silent, staring at the pegasus who suddenly looks a lot less bold than a minute ago. Her mane droops before her eyes, and all the energy abandons her in one go. “I’m so tired,” she says quietly. “I can’t do this right now. If you need me, I’ll be on the nearest cloud you can spot in the sky.” She waits for a moment, just to see if anypony objects, and then flies towards the door. “Rainbow…” whispers the yellow pegasus when she gets to the doorstep and disappears. The other pegasus stands up. “Let her go, Fluttershy,” says Twilight softly. “You can go outside too if you want to. Rarity and I can carry on here.” Fluttershy scrapes the wooden floor with a hoof, her half-closed eyes cast down. “I’m sorry,” she mumbles before leaving. Rarity looks at her go and close the door behind her. She flinches as she sees Twilight looking at her. “Uhm… I don’t mind staying,” she says. Twilight studies her for a moment. “I’m not sure that it's wise to leave Fluttershy alone for long. The potion I gave her may have side effects.” She looks at the unicorn meaningfully. Rarity swallows, but doesn’t make a move. “You certain that it’s necessary? Didn’t you say that she’ll be just fine as long as she won't stress herself too–” “Rarity. Please leave us.” Rarity glances at the stallion, who stays still as a statue, and then at Twilight again. “Twilight… Are you sure?” “It’ll be fine. We are just going to talk a bit.” An assuring smile accompanies Twilight's words. The two mares share a long look. It ends when Rarity walks to the door. Before she closes it behind her, she says: “If you need anything, I’ll be waiting right outside.” The heavy door shuts with a thud. “Are you going to kill me?” asks the stallion tensely after the silence becomes unbearable. Twilight, lying on her stomach on the carpet, looks at him intently with her chin raised up slightly higher than usual. “If I answer yes… will you try to kill me?” “No.” “It's hard to believe that.” The stallion shakes his head slowly. “I’ve seen enough years to know when I’m outmatched. You’re young, I’m old. You’re filled with hatred and thirst for revenge while I can only boast being extremely confused at the moment.” He pauses. “On top of that, you’re an alicorn.” Her wings stir gently. “Would you feel safer if I said that I have no intention of killing you?” What is with these questions? Is this all an act, a trick? “Somewhat more so, yes,” he answers. She tilts her head slightly and narrows her eyes. “Are you sure you don’t know why we've come to you?” Should I try to play time? Or just tell her? She’ll never believe me if I say that I don’t have the formula… “I may have a clue…” he says carefully. “How did you come to learn about the Project Pantheia?” Her figure tenses instantaneously. “So you admit being a part of it?” The words come out of her mouth like daggers. “There is no point in denying that, is there? It seems that you have done your backgr–” The air flees his lungs in one go as the dark-violet mass of light hurls him against a wall and captures him there. The planks creak noisily as his body involuntarily bends them back. The pressure is so immense that he can’t even close his eyes, but is forced to watch the alicorn’s face stained in unbounded rage. “You monster!” she shrieks. Under his back, a plank cracks loudly. “How could you do something like that!” He’d cry in agony, but his collapsed lungs can’t fill themselves again: he can’t breathe at all. “How could Celestia allow that…” tears well up in her eyes, and for an instant, her horn, along with the purple light that flows from it, turns black. He loses consciousness as the wall breaks behind him. The bliss of the void doesn’t last for long though, and as it fades, excruciating pain envelops his ribs and chest. The first thing he sees is the alicorn, whose face is only centimeters away from his. Their lips are pressed together. Fresh and strangely sweet air fills his lungs as she blows out. Is she… resuscitating me? A savage series of coughs seizes him as he lies amidst the splinters of his living room wall. The alicorn pulls back, shielding her face with a hoof. The seizure lasts for almost a minute, during which he becomes faintly aware that the three other mares have returned and are standing around him, looking at him anxiously. “Is he going to die?” asks Rarity, cringing. Fluttershy whimpers at that. “Twilight, I really didn’t mean what I said earlier,” says the cyan pegasus, glancing at Twilight. “We all hate this guy… but we need him, too. You can’t just–” “I know, Dash,” says Twilight, drying her tears with a wing. “It’s just so… difficult. Every time I look at him, I can see the surgery hall, the cells…” She turns her head, clenching her jaw. “What they did there is unforgivable.” “We know it is, Twi,” continues Dash. “We all know. But you have to stay focused. We can’t have the ruler of Equestria acting like a friggin psycho.” “Is he going to die?” repeats Rarity, louder this time. Dash glances at the still coughing stallion. “He’ll be fine. Aren’t you gonna be just fine?” “My chest is on fire…” manages the stallion. “And my... heart is...” “See?” says Dash dryly, looking at Rarity. “Anypony who complains that much can’t be dying anytime soon.” The stallion’s chest heaves heavily as the tormenting coughing finally dies down to mere painful breathing. He stares at the ceiling, his limbs spread straight around him. If they hate Draught Tear this much, I wonder what they would do to the actual leader of the Project; I’m barely a pony to them as is. Why? All the Project Pantheia ever strived to achieve was to make everypony happy. And we stopped right after the one incident, we buried all the good we could’ve done for the sake of one flaw. He closes his eyes in a vain attempt to ignore both the conversation concerning his fate and the feeling of the nearly broken ribs burning inside him. For one mistake… I’m being tortured to death? It’s not fair.                                                  ***