//------------------------------// // Chapter 33 - A Vision in White // Story: Bad Mondays // by Handyman //------------------------------// Getting through the wall was a futile endeavour. They had tried, but neither Whirlwind's deer magic nor Handy trying to find a loose block to knock in with his hammer worked. The wall was unyielding, they would have to find another way to reach their friends. The human gave the witch-torch to the deer to hold, who levitated it in a magical grip as Handy stayed severals steps behind him. The human was sullen, but tried not to let it show, his carelessness had resulted in endangering the others and he cursed himself for a fool. He followed the stag and the flickering blue flame as it led them through the ancient twisted corridors of the ruin. His failure stirred less pleasant thoughts as he chided himself, threatening to disturb and resurface some concerns he had been suppressing with renewed, unreasoning fervour ever since the changeling had found him. Neither spoke, even though Whirlwind had tried to strike up conversation so that the atmosphere would feel less oppressive; between the human's foulness and the stag's unease about what awaited him at the end of this particular journey, neither's heart was in the attempt. As they walked he noticed odd crystalline protrusions breaking through the stone walls in places, glowing faintly with light, breaking up the horrible monotony of their journey and he was reminded of what he, personally was here for. "Whirlwind." "Yeah?" "These vortex shards, how will I know one when I find it?" "Heh, it'll look like the one I broke, the one you had. Small, clear, little golden cylinder at its center. Can't miss it." "Hm," Handy mouthed, keeping his eyes open. He discarded the soaking wet banner he had draped about him and left it behind. Whirlwind, apart from his saddle bags which presumably contained the crown as well as other supplies, wore a green scarf around his neck, similar to the ragged remnants of a cloak he wore about his partial chainmail when Handy first met him. "Hey Handy?" "Yes?" Handy said, turning his attention back to Whirlwind after stopping to investigate a hole in the wall that he had hoped led to some room behind it, only to be disappointed with being rewarded with the bony remnants of some rodent that had made its home there. "Can I ask you something?" Whirlwind asked, stopping to look back. "...Of course." "You uh... You remember when I said we could trade stories sometime after the tournament?" he asked. Handy was confused at the question and his brow furrowed. "I vaguely remember that." "Do you mind if we do a bit of that? I mean after we find the others, of course." He had a strange expression on his face, it was a nervous half smile with a odd look in his eyes. Nothing that'd put Handy on edge but it was... still strange, as if he was afraid of something. "...I suppose we can," Handy replied, trying to decipher the intent behind the stag's words. "Why?" "Just... I'd just like to hear some new stories is all. Before you leave," he said, chuckling. It sounded forced. "You can never have too many stories." Handy was unsure of how to respond to that, this wasn't like the deer at all and in spite of himself he was actually somewhat concerned. "Whirlwind... are you all right?" "Actually, I'm half left!" he said, with that characteristic grin on his face as he voiced the terrible joke. It rang hollow in light of how he had been acting immediately before. As if sensing that it hadn't went down well in the short, awkward silence that followed, he suddenly turned forward. "Now uh, lets go, we should be getting close." He followed the direction of the torch's flame as it led them to the first fork in their path of many. The stag paused briefly looking down the left path before following the right as the torch indicated. Handy followed after a moment's hesitation, the deer's clearly nervous behaviour sitting ill at ease with him. It was just such a stark contrast to how he was at all other times. In the midst of fighting a dragon in a burning stadium; in battle with an absurdly powerful sorcerer; lost in the woods whose supernatural elements had so thoroughly robbed Handy of his own good senses; he had always been so joyful, so full of life, so irritatingly self assured and enthusiastic. And here he was, barely able to hide his own trepidation and fear, turning to the human of all people for potential succour because he was the only one at hand. Or hoof in his case. It was disconcerting and Handy found his previous misgivings about the deer suddenly muted as he considered the gravity of the stag's situation. "Does... I mean, is there no other way?" Handy asked. The stag inclined his ears but didn't turn around as he kept walking. "Do you have to wear the crown? Can't the tribes work together to control the weather in the forest like the ponies do?" he continued, dropping his formal tone and mannerisms. The deer was quiet for a moment before letting out a breath followed by a light chuckle. "No, not without the Hartsight we can't." he said "And the magic the ponies use doesn't work as well as you'd think it would. Otherwise the ponies would have conquered these forests long before my people showed up." "But do you have to go through with it? Why do you have to throw your life away?" "You make it sound like I am walking to my death." Whirlwind smiled, turning his head to look back at the human. "You're certainly acting like you are," Handy replied. Whirlwind turned back around. "It’s the way it is, Handy." he said. "If it’s the choice between my freedom and my peoples' survival, I can't really choose otherwise, can I? Wouldn't you do the same?" Handy didn't answer that question as they continued walking in silence. --=-- The wind whipped at her black cloak, threatening to tear the hood back off her head and expose her mane to the elements. It was a little thing, too small for her that she had taken from a clothesline of some griffon family in a village they had passed through. She did not care, as she stood on the rocky outcropping overlooking patchy woodland leading downhill and into the busy valley where farmsteads and hamlets lay nestled against the city of Skymount, like a crowd of chicks around a mother hen. The placid vision the valley exuded was marred by the occasional screech of trains leaving and entering the city along the train tracks running alongside the main cobblestone road, itself following the path of the Opal Tear river. She sat there for a while on the rocky outcropping, simply thinking, wondering. Her gaze drifting up along the mountainside, up from Skymount to the castle above it, hanging like a limpet to the side of the rocky edifice. She closed her eyes for a moment and summoned forth her senses. Yes, there they were, she saw the two of them. Both of them were scurrying about the city in short, quick jumps. Hiding, watching, searching. She trusted the changelings about as far as she could throw them of course, even if they had supposedly swore to her. Although granted in her case, that was a pretty bad example. However if they were going to betray her, they would've tried something in the night, and fallen for her trap wards while she slept. They had not, which meant they were probably sincere. Or merely cleverly biding their time. She rubbed her forehead and let out a small breath, the only concession she'd give to her fatigue. Her stomach let out a strained noise to protest her hunger but she ignored it. She had to remain vigilant. From what she had learned about the tournament, the Mistress was seeking her out, which meant there had to be ponies in skymount looking for her, especially if Master had escaped her grasp with her doppelgänger in toe. She couldn't afford to be seen there, not when she had an advantage allowing her to remain beyond the mistress' reach. But she needed her books. Her little light show with the changelings had taken its toll. It was not much but she knew it had cost her... something she could no longer recall. She felt it was important, but it was faint. She had to regain those spells, she had to have them to hoof in case she ever needed to use the old magic again, to commit them to memory before their use drives them from her mind. And took a bit of herself along with it. "My lady?" She turned to regard the voice, her horn lighting up as it poked just out from under her hood. There stood a griffon, smaller than most, but a bird all the same. She had been surprised to learn the changelings were able to mimic the birds so accurately, but pleased nonetheless. She felt the other one close the distance between the city and their location. Flying low amid the pine trees to throw off any pursuers who could be tailing him. Soon the other ling stood before her, in the guise of the more uncommon griffling variant of halfbreed, carrying a satchel around one foreleg. "Any complications?" she asked icily. Glimmer shook her head, green fire washing over her form to reveal the changeling's true form. She took to keeping her eyes covered even now. Her compatriot, Façade transformed and allowed his purple irises to show. "There was one griffon eyeing the alchemists suspiciously during the day, he looked like a guard. Other than him we saw nopony acting odd," Glimmer said. Façade coughed and she rolled her eyes before looking at him. "The alchemists themselves don't count." "They wanted to experiment on me!" "They offered you a drink." "It was glowing! And smelled like gunpowder!" "Well next time, pick a less conspicuous disguise. Can't blame alchemists for wanting to see what would happen." "I picked a griffling specifically because noling would blink twice if they saw I was acting odd. I am not used to griffons, it was the best I could come up with!" "I didn't have any trouble..." Glimmer preened, rubbing a hoof against her chest and then inspecting it with a small smile. Façade snorted. "You were drawing everylings attention in the marketplace." "Like I said, no trouble..." she said, now grinning. Façade was about to retort. "Enough. Did you get my things?" Crimson said wearily. The two changelings nodded and Façade handed over the satchel. She had very few actual possessions, nothing much she really wanted to salvage from her little ‘hole in the wall’ office at the guildhall, but the books were critical. She took out her old, weather beaten tome. It was small in comparison to the great works she had seen her mistress peruse from time to time, but it was hers. She briefly flicked through it, giving a noise of approval when she came across a spell she did not recognise. The small calligraphy with intricate, weaving strokes inside the black, curving lines unfamiliar. She gazed at it long and hard, committing it to memory once more where it fit snugly, warmly, like an old coat fitting about one's withers after being apart from them for far too long. She grimaced and put the book away, trying not to think about how others' memories of her would be affected by that little stunt that had cost her the magic in the first place, not to mention the magic she used to place those tracing spells on her new lackeys. She replaced the tome in the satchel and inspected the other book; a fresher, much newer booklet, considerably thinner than her own. The one master had found in the dead prince's room. Its existence alone raised so many questions, none of which she could really answer without consulting the mistress again. And to Tartarus with that. She considered her options. She could contact the mistress, or one of the eight, but that would undo the warding spell she placed over herself so that they could not simply contact her and locate her by those means. That option was certainly out, although it meant she could not locate them in turn and find master that way. She could just wait outside Skymount for his return, but then she would be willingly leaving him in bondage to that damned queen. She definitely wasn't going to do that to the stallion who released her from slavery to the mistress and then put himself into service just to ensure her safety. That meant her only option to find master was to consult this queen herself. An idea formed in her mind and a smile threatened to tug at the edge of her lips. "Glimmer," she said simply, the changeling looked up from the conversation she was having with Façade. "The deal ma-the human made with your queen. It involved her being unable to harm me, correct?" The changeling, confused, nodded slowly as she continued, "That includes not being able to order her underlings to attack me too, correct?" "I uh... I honestly don't know, my lady." she said, the odd buzzing echo accentuating her words. "I don't know the particulars of the geas too well." "Yes, I suppose that was too much to hope for. But say it did," she said, raising an imperious eyebrow at the other mare. "Would I not be able to walk right up to her, bold as brass and not suffer anything for my insolence?" "Well, logically, as long as the geas holds up, that would be true." Façade chipped in. Only then did Crimson let herself smile. The wind continued whipping at her cloak, the chill biting as the scent of pine filled the air even this late at night and the moon shined down upon them, leaving the mare in shadow as she turned her back on it to regard the changelings fully so that they couldn't wholly make out her expression as she doused the light of her horn. It was risky, but if she could pull it off, and could remain undetected on the way there... "Then I believe it’s time I paid her majesty a visit." she said calmly, both changelings looked at her with expressions of alarm. "Take me to her." ""B-but my lady, we-we, uh, that is..." Glimmer's eye covers slid back into her head and she turned to Façade with a pleading expression. He cleared his throat. "We can't just, just take you there," "And why not?" Crimson asked, turning to regard Façade, who swallowed. "B-because its so far! And there's no uh, guarantee, that is-" "We can't just lead ponies to our colony!" Glimmer exclaimed. There was silence for a time, broken only by the sound of rushing wind before Crimson calmly closed the distance between her and the changeling mare. Glimmer backed up a step, clearly nervous. "Did I stutter?" Crimson asked calmly. "Wh-what?" Glimmer said. Crimson was now face to face with her, her eyes boring a hole in her head. "Did. I. Stutter?" Crimson asked, punctuating each word with another step forward until the nose of her muzzle was almost pressed against hers. The mare struggled with words as she looked into the deep blue eyes of Crimson and found nothing yielding within, her emotions were as cold as a block of ice. She chose to merely close her mouth and slide the covers over her eyes once more. "That's what I thought." she said, turning dismissively. She lent an air of finality to her next words. "Take me to her. She and I have some things to discuss." --=-- He first saw it as they were walking through the library. The long winding ruined corridors eventually lead them to a rather cavernous room completely subsumed in darkness. Row upon row of rotten wooden bookshelves towered above them in concentric circles radiating out from some central point. The shelves towered into the darkness above where the light of the torch could not reach, but Handy saw enough to know that they were almost all empty. Nothing remained but cobwebs, mounds of dust and partially survived leather bindings with their pages long since wasted away. Several times they had to detour around and backtrack because some of the shelves had collapsed, leaving a small mountain of rotten wood blocking their path. They had first heard it then, the half noises. The odd sounds of footsteps running, coming closer until they were almost upon them and then fading as they passed them, with no owner to claim them, nor dust disturbed by their passing. The voices of hushed whispers and half remembered conversations, the turning of dry pages and the hum of a woman lulling a child to sleep. The two of them hardly dared to breathe, knowing they were too far into the dark room to turn back now and not wanting to draw the attention of whatever was causing the ghastly sounds. Handy had drawn his hammer, its familiar weight more for comfort than any genuine belief he could fight off the sounds of ghosts with a lump of steel. His grip tightened as they continued along. The noises did not increase, but neither did they go away. There was neither rhyme nor reason to them, they came and went as they pleased, for this was their home to haunt, and the human and stag were merely disturbed guests. For Handy at least, the voices stopped when he spied something out of the corner of his helmet slit. He turned. There, not more than twenty feet from them in the darkness, stood a deer. A stag. It was stark white and bright, as if radiating light, but the darkness around it did not retreat, nor did it illuminate its surroundings. It merely stood there, placid, looking at them. It seemed… off, different somehow. Handy called out to Whirlwind who turned around, when Handy looked back the white stag had disappeared. He blinked. "I don't see anything there, Handy," Whirlwind said, narrowing his eyes as his antlers glowed. "...You sure?" Handy asked, Whirlwind shook his head, "Look again." "I don't-" "Use that bloody Hartsight thing of yours!" "I am." The stag looked up at the human, concern showing on his face. "Look, the whispering is getting to me too, its alright. Just... don't be too worried about it. Lets just get through here." Handy looked back at the spot of blackness where he had spotted the apparition. "The whispers are getting to thee?" he asked calmly, not looking at the stag as he nodded. "Yeah, its creepy!" he laughed nervously, "Kinda makes me want to get out of here as soon as I can, so uh, can we keep moving? Please?" "...Yeah. Yeah lets keep moving," he agreed, not telling the stag that he was no longer hearing the ghostly noises himself. Which only unnerved him further. --=-- They walked in darkness for a while longer before the long corridor started brightening up, revealing a less decayed interior. The half walls possessed small columns that reached up to the arched ceiling, revealing bricked walls beyond them on either side. Slivers of daylight snaked in through the space between, though there was not enough space to allow them to see the sky above. How long had they been down here? Had they reached the surface? Handy was certain they were traveling downwards, the flame had to be leading them to Thorax and Jacques after all. The soft light was not to last, suddenly changing to a harsh glare unexpectedly as it led around a corner and both of them had to shield their eyes. He heard a burst of static and a small vibration at his side coming from his pouch as he blinked away his daze and truly took in the sight around him while the brick played a song of its own accord. The corridor slowly changed to become a long colonnade, small snaking vines clung to the ceiling in a criss-crossing network of life, their harsher emerald colour complimenting the gentler teal-green of the exposed bronze of the arched ceiling. The walls giving way entirely to make one long colonnade. The elegantly shaped, stark grey pillars were stylised to resemble towering rose bushes. The rock from which they were hewn possessed a metallic sheen to it at odds with its rough texture. Large white blue bell shaped flowers hung from the creeping plant-life around them, hot breath frosting upon the air as it was exhaled. The piercing sunlight was what first greeted his eyes after they had adjusted from being blinded as the pair exited from the darkness of the corridor. The colonnade was on a bridge it seemed, traversing a great height across what appeared to be a canyon, or perhaps a crater. It was a long and oddly shaped natural formation. The bridge itself was partially collapsed, the far side utterly overrun with plant-life, with black doors at their end which were partially covered in moss. Water fell from a source in the canyon wall above it and flowed through a hole in the colonnades’ roof, directed by the bridge's shape and flowing over its ruined edges into a waterfall. The water moved slowly, not making a sound. The air had chilled and it was snowing, gentle flakes of stark white frollicking in the still air as they danced their way to the beds of snow below. The curious sight of out of season snow drew their eyes from the towering trees that lined the cliff tops of the stark walls of the canyon, like guards protecting a treasure, to stranger sights below them and to the path that lead down stairways from the bridge's side to the canyon below. It twisted back upon itself as the stairs clung to the bridge's side all the way down to the ground and the ruined buildings that lay beneath. Most of the buildings were destroyed, although by age or by will it was impossible to tell. The walls were so stark white it was difficult to tell the construction apart from the building snowdrifts that partially covered them. Their roofs had collapsed long ago and the few interiors he saw through ruined windows were equally covered in snow, hiding what forgotten memories that may have remained beneath their icy embrace. The yellow flagstones they walked upon reminded him immediately of the broken path that lead them to the verdigris gate, the snow did not land upon it, instead, seemingly the flakes drifted away at the last moment, rather than land upon the path, leaving a river of gold to guide them through a blank canvas of virgin snow. Whirlwind was about to question Handy about the source of the music coming from him as they walked, until something much more worrying caught his attention. They were hard to look at. The eye would not be drawn to them, not for long, before a sense of shame and loss forced one to look away. They were less than shadows, incorporeal things without true form or substance that flitted about, dancing to and fro amidst the falling snow between the collapsed and ruined buildings that at first glance, seemed little more than jagged rocks conveniently laid out in nice patterns; which was weighleighed by the road leading through them. Handy and Whirlwind advanced cautiously, wary of the strange things that did not seem to notice their presence at all. The air felt strangely heavy and melancholic. A knot began forming in his stomach, not from fear but from a sense of loss that he could not understand. Their own movements felt slow and ponderous, like moving underwater. They followed the flame. The beings seemed to be moving in brief fluid motions before fading from existence, the eye could only catch where they had once been so they had been forced to look on, following their afterimages and piecing together their actions from what they saw. There, beneath a great weeping willow whose leaves were red yet covered in white from being heavy with snow, a shadow appeared that had bent down and reached out with two limbs to embrace a smaller one that rushed towards it. Both then vanished, the snow beneath their feet yet undisturbed. By a small pillar with a hole in the ground beside it leading into darkness below and surrounded by a ring of broken masonry ancient beyond reckoning, another shadow sat, as if a wall had been there. A limb extended from the shadow, translucent to the point where one could see the ground behind it, darkly, like looking through a window dirtied by age and smog, warped to the point where colour was distorted and darkened beyond their natural hues. It moved back and forth in the air towards the center of the ring of broken rock, as if playing in the water of what had once, apparently, been a fountain. Another three crouched beneath the broken awning of oxidized bronze beside a solid wall. They seemed to be gesturing at the ground and moving their limbs in energetic bursts, as if playing some ancient game. On and on the shadows went, in absolute silence, in movements too slow to have any place outside of a dream and the sense of sadness grew overpowering. The ghosts of the past never once crossed the path they tread as the slowly dwindling magical flame led them through the maze that was the dead city of snow and shadows. "What... what were they?" Handy asked as they came to an intersection, one of many the torch had led them past as the flame changed its direction. He looked around, not exactly certain of his own feelings as he saw more and more of the shadows fade from existence. Their true shapes eluded him; he could not bear to look too long, could not dare to perceive. It was rude, unconscionable, a trespass more sorrowful than any wake he had ever been to. "What happened to them?" "I don't know..." Whirlwind said, choosing to study one of the long, white bell plants that drooped down to face the ground from where it grew on a wall. He rubbed his eyes clear with a fetlock and sniffed, "...I am not sure I really want to." "Whirlwind?" "I'm alright just... let’s keep going, yeah? It’s cold and snowing when it shouldn't be, we're close to the spirit. We need to find the others," the stag looked back up to the torch he had been carrying and frowned. The torch had gone out. He tsked and lit a spell to light it again. And then again. And yet again, his eyes slowly widening with each failed attempt. "Handy?" "Mm?" Handy replied, clutching the hammer in his grip once more. It wasn't as unnerving as the library but still... to see something like this, here in broad daylight, was unnerving in its own way. Especially with this weighted feeling on the air, forlorn and expectant, like the feeling you get walking into a hospital wing to see your extended family gathered in the hallway outside of your grandparents’ room. Waiting, knowing the inevitable was coming. It didn't make sense, whoever or whatever these people were, they were long gone. They had to be, they couldn't die twice. But damned if that wasn't the feeling that was impressed upon him when he saw the last one, which seemed to be walking with a hunch leaning on some aperture to hold it up, fade from sight. "Don't uh... don't suppose you got a light? Heh." Handy turned at the nervous laugh the stag gave him. He shook the torch. "Its not lighting." Those three words caused Handy's skin to crawl. "...Try it again." "But-" "On something else." Handy said, really not keen on the idea that the witch-torch crapped out on them stranding them in the middle of a literal ghost town. "Burn something else." Looking around, the stag pulled what appeared to be a dead bush from under a snow mound; Its tiny branches and twigs dry, if somewhat covered in frost. Whirlwind lowered his antlers to the bush and whispered something. His antlers glowed a soft golden light but produced no aura, sparks of fire erupted from a point between them and reached out to the bush and… Nothing. The sparks died, and the bush did not catch fire. They barely seemed singed. Whirlwind tried a few more times, surprised at his own inability to set the bush on fire and growing increasingly frustrated. Unnerved, Handy looked around. They were abnormally close to the cliff face here, although which side of the canyon they were on, he could not say. He looked around, trying to find the bridge they had descended from but unable to see it anywhere above them. Alarm slowly mounted within him, "Whirlwind. Cast a spell, any spell." "Hang on," Whirlwind said, his antlers completely encased in a bright glow. Small white flames flickered to life and then died just as quickly as they appeared at each individual point of his antlers. The stag glanced up, his face screwed up in effort and he gave a snort of frustration as he continued to fail to produce anything of worth. The snow came down heavier now and it felt colder. Handy noticed that for the first time, the flakes seemed to be landing on the path. Soon they wouldn’t be able to find their way, not that it would have been easy even if they could see the path. The city had been a sprawling mess, like every medieval town that had grown organically over the centuries was. Had it not been for the torch they would have been hopelessly lost just getting across. "Eh, not to worry!" he said in that characteristic cheerful tone, smiling wide and holding a hoof aloft. "Any minute now, aheh! I'll uh, I'll get something!" His tone wasn't all that convincing as he scampered off into one of the broken buildings, digging away at the snow before bounding out of it and looking elsewhere and charging his antlers with magic, trying to do anything. 'Okay, don't panic... its just a magical malfunction. Yeah, that's it!' Handy told himself, trying to not show his rising unease. The heavy pressure of the air seemed to disappear, replaced instead by an increasing chill, their senses overwhelmed by the howl of a rising wind and the lowering of visibility as the snowfall grew heavier and heavier. He could barely see the trees along the canyon's edges anymore. How long had they been down here? Where was the bridge? Why is the deer's magic not working? What the hell were those shadows and where did they go? "Whirlwind?" he said, feeling his teeth beginning to chatter, God damn it was getting cold. "Aaaaaany minute now!" he heard coming from somewhere behind him. Visibility was now getting awfully scarce, he could only see buildings two blocks down now. The snow was getting heavier. "Whirlwind!" he called back, stooping down and picking up the witch-torch. "Whir..." he trailed off as he stood back up and saw it. It stood there looking at him from down the street, unnaturally still. Its white coat and antlers gleamed, stark against the snow which seemed dull and grey in comparison. Handy closed his eyes and opened them again, it still stood there, watching him. Now that he had a decent look at it, it was bigger than the deer he had seen. Much bigger. Its proportions were... off. Or rather, they were 'correct'. It was closer to a stag one would expect to see from his own world. Its features were soft yet noticeably different from the deer of this world. Its eyes were smaller, but larger for their sockets and seemingly black as they studied the human with a placid grace that... was reassuring. He turned to look at Whirlwind, this time he was pulling out what appeared to be a large fallen branch from under some rubble and snow. He hadn't noticed the apparition. Looking back the white stag was backing up from him and turning, facing a street heading off to the human's left from his perspective, behind several buildings. Visibility was limited to barely ten feet in front of him, but the stag... he could see the stag clearly. It radiated with an interior light that defied the haze of snow that conspired to blind the human and confine him to being trapped in this grave city beneath a blanket of snow. The white stag lowered its mighty head, crowned with huge antlers with multitudinously long and sharp points, to the ground. It pawed at the snow with a hoof and raised its head to look down the path before turning to look pointedly at the human. Then, noiselessly, it walked off down the way, disappearing behind several buildings. "Gof ith!" Whirlwind shouted from his side and the human nearly jumped, shocked out of his stupor. Whirlwind held a comically large branch in his mouth, dragging it along the ground, "We cam lifh thif!" "...I am pretty s-sure lighting that won't w-work, Whirlwind. Whatever is c-cancelling out your m-magic probaby would prevent us f-from l-lighting it normally," Handy said, stuttering through the chill. He turned back, keeping an eye on the exact section of space where he saw the white stag disappear. He weighed his options. "Aw," Whirlwind said dropping the branch and letting himself have a good shiver. "Wh-what are we going to do then?" He looked around. The buildings would provide precious little shelter, destroyed and decayed as they were. Handy quickly considered the pros and cons of staying here, lost in a dead city with an unnatural snowstorm threatening to encase them in its icy grasp vis a vis following some weird vision of a stag to God only knows where. The last thing he saw in this forest that wanted him to follow it... No, he didn't really want to think about that. Not right now. Still, that odd feeling he got when he looked into its eyes. It was reassuring, almost familiar, but he knew he had never seen anything like it before. He wasn't sure how he could describe it but... "Come on." he said, pocketing the witch-torch. "What?" "Just, come on," Handy insisted, stalking off down a snow covered path between the buildings. Whirlwind bounded after him, "Wait! W-where are you going?" "Anywhere th-that's not here!" Handy shouted back. His pace quickened as he drew near where he saw the stag disappear. He turned the corner sharply, almost walking into the edge of the building, batting away a bundle of overgrowth that hung across the building's corner from the ruined roof as he stumbled into the new road. He spotted the stag ahead, walking calmly away. It was easily half a football pitch's distance from him. "D-do you see that?" "S-see what?" Whirlwind said, managing to catch up to the human. Handy glanced at him and back at the white stag, which turned to look back at them before taking a right turn. "..Nothing, just... j-just, come on," he said, taking off at a brisk pace. He turned into a jog halfway down the street while the deer followed close behind. The path they took twisted and turned amid the skeletal ruins, the cold refusing to let up and the snow falling heavier and heavier, the wind blowing hard and exacerbating the chill. They could barely see ahead of them now, the buildings they passed only coming into sight roughly a foot away from them. More than once, Handy stumbled and nearly fell as the path turned treacherous and uneven as more and more rubble got in his way. At times it even felt as it he was going uphill, but there was no noticeable rise in the ground. Again and again he saw the stag, always far ahead of him, waiting for him just long enough for him to turn a corner before it disappeared around another bend. He eventually broke out into a run, determined to catch up to this stranger, but never managed to reach it even though it walked with a leisurely pace. Whirlwind was utterly confused but had long since resigned himself to following after the seemingly mad human, he had very little choice if he didn't want to get separated again. Turn after turn he followed after it until finally he appeared to be gaining on it on a straight run. It didn't speed up nor did it turn around and Handy felt excited. Whatever this was, he wasn't going to let it get away from him. He somehow forgot about his predicament entirely as what had begun as him merely following the White Stag, to which he referred to it in his mind as if it were a proper name rather than a description, became a desperate chase. He didn't even notice the sudden, shocking chill of a torrent of water falling from somewhere above him splashing down onto his shoulder and seeping deep into his armour. He almost had the White Stag within his grasp, water be damned. As the thoughts formed in his mind the White Stag rapidly dimmed, becoming one with the grey mass of the snow flurry that nearly blinded him. "No!" Handy shouted and sprinted, his lungs burning with the freezing cold air. He skid to a halt, his armour clattering as he flailed in an attempt to stop himself before he collided head first with two tall iron doors. "Wh-" he didn't get to finish his question as the rapidly moving form of Whirlwind barreled into him, having failed to stop in time, and both collided hard with the black iron doors; the metal resounding with the clash. Handy was dazed, his ears ringing. Whirlwind groaned, shaking his head and looking up at the doors they had run into. The human had fallen backwards over him and was currently busy rolling off to the side and clutching his head. "Huh, hey! Handy you found something!" "Wh-what?" Handy chattered, the cold suddenly hitting him full force now that he had the strange obsession with the White Stag forcibly knocked out of him. His right arm was unbearably cold and he was shaking quite badly. "G-God, its c-cold... f-fuck..." "Seriously, look!" Whirlwind said, getting up and shaking the human, Handy turned and looked up. He saw the large doors, both with raised portions depicting peacocks in flight, the left one was partially covered in deep, emerald moss. The cogs turned in his mind as Whirlwind babbled on. "How did you know where to go? I think this might be our ticket out of the cold, haha!" Handy was already stumbling to his feet. He took a few steps away from the door as the stag tested his magic and, to his delight, summoned forth a small ball of fire that floated at a point just above his muzzle. Handy walked over to the small waterfall falling through a hole in the oxidized bronze roof which was arched and covered in criss-crossing vines, like emerald veins upon teal skin. He followed the flow of the water, clutching his right arm in a futile attempt to warm it up, wisely electing to place his hammer in the loop by his side in case his right arm suddenly lost control from shock. He was led to a ruined edge where the floor simply fell away. The water flowed off the edge, disappearing into the snow fog below. He looked up and in a brief lull in the flurry of snow he saw the far side of the divide clearly, spying the remainder of the bridge they had originated from and the stairway they had used to descend into the city below. He looked around slowly, carefully, only to find this portion of the broken bridge significantly shorter than the other side and possessing no such stairway to the city below. He stood stock still as a chill shot down his spine that had nothing to do with the cold. How in the hell did they get up here? He thought he saw something out of the corner of his eye as his gaze drifted over the impenetrable haze below him as the snowstorm intensified. He looked up but nothing was there, the bridge on the far side of the divide was empty. But he still got that strange feeling of a reassuring calm that conflicted with the rising surge of panic as memories of how he came upon the road flickered through his mind's eye. 'But Whirlwind could see the road.' 'but he couldn't see the stag... why couldn't he see it?' the thoughts plagued him as he slowly made his way back to the doors. Whirlwind was still talking to himself as he scratched away the moss upon the door and tried to read an inscription molded into the metal beneath it. Handy wasn't paying attention as he came to a stop behind the stag. His faraway gaze underlined the intensity of the thoughts within him as he tried to work out exactly what had occurred and why he wasn't panicking as much as he really, really felt he should. "-Know it would lead us here?" Handy snapped back to reality at being asked that question. "Sorry?" "How did you know following the holly would lead us here?" "...Holly?" Handy asked dumbly. Whirlwind inclined his head towards the wall to his left. Bundles of holly grew over the side, bright blood red berries and rich, emerald, spiked leaves sat upon the wall. "Yeah, I noticed them at every corner you turned. Led all the way here," Whirlwind chirped. Handy looked down at his left hand and vaguely remembered a stinging sensation when he had batted some plant-life out of his way as he stumbled around the first corner after the Stag. Had there been holly all the way here? He hadn't even noticed. Why was it growing on walls like vines? He had thought Holly grew on trees... "R-really?" Handy said. Whirlwind nodded, but then frowned, noticing how the human was shivering. "Uhh, maybe we should get inside first, we can discuss this later," Whirlwind said as he began pushing against the Iron doors which refused to budge. "Uhm, little help?" Handy added his weight to the door after a moment's hesitation, his gaze lingering on the holly. The doors screeched and protested but eventually gave way, the wind rushing past them into the darkness beyond in a flurry of snow. The pair of them managed to get inside before closing the doors again and sagging to the ground, breathing heavily and shivering. Whirlwind's horns glowed and a small fire was summoned forth. Handy suddenly regretted leaving the discarded banner behind, they could've used that to burn and give them both some heat. With that thought in mind, Whirlwind noticed several tables and chairs nearby, revealed by the light of the small fire. The ancient wood practically crumbled from his touch as he hurriedly pulled a few of them together. The wood easily fell apart fully as he worked to break it with his antlers and hooves. Handy would've helped but he was out of breath and not too inclined to move. Whirlwind lit the collection of wood on fire with another small fire spell and let out a cry of victory as it finally caught light. Handy eyed the fire cautiously, it had been a long time since he thought of the sight of fire as being in any way comforting. As he was now however, practically freezing to death in his armour, the fire burning on the floor of what appeared to be a dining hall was the most inviting looking thing he had ever seen in his life and he slowly brought himself closer to its warmth. But not too close. "Hehe, well that was... that was... well... whew! Pretty cold huh?" the breathless Whirlwind said, trying to strike up conversation as he chased the chill from his bones. The air was still cold but the iron doors did a remarkable job of keeping the storm on the outside, despite the howling wind. Handy didn't respond, his teeth chattering, he had a million questions he wanted to ask right then, but simply couldn't. Besides, if he didn't see the White Stag, how much help would Whirlwind actually be? On a whim he pulled the witch torch from his satchel and, ever so slightly, nudged it towards the flames with a broken table leg. When the torch lit he rolled it away from the fire before throwing the leg into the middle of it. He grabbed and held the magical flame aloft in his left hand, so immensely grateful that whatever the torch actually was, it did not light him up like so much tissue paper dipped in gasoline. He willed it to point them in the direction of the others. The fire flickered before bending and pointing off into the darkness behind him. Whirlwind perked up, "Huh, thats lucky. Seems we're still heading in the right direction." "Yeah," Handy managed. The thought struck him that the White Stag, whatever it was, had deliberately led them up here. Somehow. Whatever was cancelling out magic down below was not present here and they could now continue on their way to finding the others. The White Stag, assuming it was not the cause of the magical cancelling or even the sudden snowstorm itself, had deliberately led them back on track to finding Jacques and Thorax. Despite how glad he knew he should be about all of that and to be out of that storm however, he couldn't help but ask himself why. --=-- "Not that I am complaining..." "Mmnn… Wha?" Thorax groaned as her eyes fluttered open. Everything was aching, and it hurt to move. "...But would you ever be so kind as to get off of me, mon chere?" Thorax's eyes shot wide open and she looked down. Jacques, in all his smug glory, was stuck in a rather awkward position, resting his neck and withers on the ground while trapped in a collection of jutting rocks and crystal formations. Thorax's, or rather Crimson's body, had him pinned in place in an ungodly tangle of pony limbs, loose rocks, and pain. The resulting struggle for freedom from the pony prison rewarded her by her falling face first onto the hard ground and a yelp of pain from Jacques. Getting up and rubbing her sore muzzle, she took stock of their surroundings. It appeared to be a cave at first glance, but that was deceptive. The walls and pillars were covered in large outcroppings of crystals, hexagonal formations expanding in bunches out of the walls and ground, giving the impression they had landed in some long forgotten mine. It was what one would think if it were not for the staggered, arched ceiling and the baroque facades of the pillars where they held up the roof. The all too regular and rectangular shape to the room revealed it as merely some lower cellar. Looking around, there were no visible signs of where they might have fallen from: no hole in the roof, no slide built into the wall. Clearly a similar mechanism that caused the floor to fall from under them was built into the walls. She was tempted to use her magic to try to weasel out where the mechanism was but vetoed that idea. She was feeling strained as it was and didn't want to risk wasting the rest of her magic on something so frivolous. "Quite the back hoof you got there." ‘Crimson’ turned to look at Jacques as he dusted off his hat and placed it on his head, drawing her attention to the noticeable hoof prints he bore on his muzzle, despite his smile. Her ears splayed in embarrassment. "Oh, right. Aheh, sorry but—" She coughed to clear her throat and re-adopted the typical disinterested expression of Crimson. 'That’s it, make it seem as if he's getting through my mask,' she thought, playing the part of the poor little mare so terribly embarrassed for 'accidentally' hitting him that she tried to put on a stoic facade to save face. "I mean, I didn't intend to do that. I'm sorry." "Ah well," Jacques said with a lazy roll of his head as he walked past her. "We all do silly things when we are flustered, no?" She gave him a sideways glare as she watched him walk past, exploring the room. She allowed herself a flick of her tail in genuine irritation. It was one thing for her prey to flirt back with her, but the fact that she was getting nowhere with him took all the joy out of it for her. "What happened?" she asked as she got up and did her part in shifting the various detritus of the ruins. There was broken masonry, ancient broken planks of wood grey with age that cracked under her hooves, and tattered colourless cloth tapestries hung from the walls that evoked a sense of lost grandeur and spoiled majesty within the mind’s eye. The images that they might have once borne had faded and were lost to time. "I do not know," Jacques replied, lifting up a particularly large fallen chunk of rock from the ceiling, raising a hoof in disgust as a rather large centipede the colour of vomit skittered away from behind it and disappeared into a tiny hole in the wall. "I only know that a wall came out of the ground, the floor disappeared, and voila! We now have a romantic walk through crystal-lit caverns all to ourselves. Not so bad, eh?" "Perhaps," she said, allowing herself a small smirk, making a show of pretending to hide it, just enough for him to notice. The pair of them continued exploring the room. It was quite large, more akin to a cellar or the spacious corridors of a particularly ancient castle. However, try as they might, they could find neither doors nor exits, just more and more crystal formations emitting a soft white light, casting light, overlapping shadows. Jacques suddenly drew his sword in a flash of metal that caused Thorax to yelp in surprise and jump back a step. "What in Tartarus is wrong with you!?" she cried. "Shhh." "Wha—" "Shhh!" he said, holding the blade to his muzzle as he made a silencing motion. He looked pointedly at one crystal formation against a wall. She followed his gaze. It didn't seem all that different from any other they had passed. "It’s a bunch of crystal," she whispered, narrowing her eyes at it. "So what?" "I thought I heard..." Jacques whispered. His narrowed eyes scanned the area around the crystal. He approached it and ran a hoof along it. "Hmmm... doit être mon imagination. Anyway, as you were saying?" he said, sheathing his rapier. "I was not saying anything." "I know," he said with a wicked smile. "Such a shame. I do so ever love hearing the sound of your voice." She blinked at that, allowing a flush of colour to come to her face. He smiled wider. Perfect. 'Screw it, I finally have him on his own. Time to just go all out.' There were worse fates for a changeling to suffer than being revealed and at the mercy of an armed pony, but given the preference to prey upon them more than any other species, it was easily the most commonly shared fear and the most common scenario prepared for by most changelings. This was true whether they were civilians, soldiers, long term infiltrators who gathered emotional energy, preferably love while in the guise of ponies, or in Thorax's case, scouts. They were the ones whose mission it was to travel foreign lands to probe and inspect defences, keep an eye on military movements and their relation to changeling colonies and sidhes, and, of course, spy on changelings of those rival colonies. It was not unheard of for one changeling to out another changeling loyal to a different sovereign in order to better secure their position in a given society. The outed changeling would have to flee or defect to another colony for survival. Ever since Canterlot, which was an embarrassing failure her queen had been working very hard to salvage her reputation from, ponies in general had been rather ruthless in routing out changeling infiltrations. Violently if necessary. Discovery was not an option, but she had to feed to restore her reserves and to maintain her glamour. If she had to choose between draining the swordspony and reducing his effectiveness in getting both of them through this ruin or letting her glamour fall and risk being gutted where she stood, she'd choose the former. If the illusion were to fall, there could be no other outcome for a changeling. She eyed him as they walked side by side and a confident smile briefly flashed across her face before it gave way to a pained expression. She let out a moan and appeared to trip over her own legs and fall against him. Jacques stumbled but found his balance, catching her and holding her back up "Hey! You okay?" "Yeah, just... a bit tired. I think a little bit of that flu from before is still with me," she said with a tired expression, her breathing slightly laboured. The fact that she was really feeling under the weather due to her magical drain helped it seem authentic. "I-I'm fine... thanks." "Hey," he said with a serious tone. She turned to look at him. "If you need to take a break, we can stop." "I'm fine, really," she said with a light cough, deliberately letting herself lean against him for support. She reached out with a tiny tendril of magic upon physical contact. It wasn't much and it wouldn't warp his mind into loving her, however temporarily, but it was enough to get him focused on her. "... Just... fine." Jacques eyes locked with her own as she turned to look directly at his face. Her eyes were half-lidded and she allowed a smile to creep along her muzzle. It was a warm, faltering thing, as if she were uncertain about what she was really doing. With as much she played the part, if anything, she knew what she was doing all too well. "Well..." Jacques said with another confident smile, but with a somewhat searching look in his eyes. "You certainly are." "...Maybe a break wouldn't be so bad. Would you mind just... staying with me for a while?" she asked, looking down, her tail flicking back and forth as she sat and returning her gaze to the stallion hopefully. His gaze left her momentarily, and he blinked. Just like that, she saw the small, intent look in his eyes fade. This would not do. "I had better keep looking for a way out. The others will be looking for us, so we'd—" He was interrupted as 'Crimson's' hoof reached out to gently grasp his foreleg as he raised it to walk on. "There's... no real rush is there?" she asked, Jacques studying her face as she moved closer. "I mean, I... About your face; I didn't really mean to kick you back there…." "Oh that, tout ce qui sera, sera Crimson. We'll not fall out with each other over a simple accident," he said with a light chuckle. He tried to pull away but she pulled back on his leg and pressed up against his side. "I insist!" she said, letting him see just how big and blue her eyes were. This was a sloppy way to go about it, but she felt his attraction to her disguise, and he had been bloody well teasing her with a good meal and pulling it out of her reach for nearly a week now. She was hungry. They were alone. This was going to happen one way or another. She lightly brushed her hoof over the mark she had 'accidentally' left on his face and let herself hesitate. His mouth opened to say something but she let her hoof glide down along his jawline, which promptly shut him up as his eyes widened in surprise. She breathed deeply. "Oh... my." "Well! How very forward, mademoiselle," Jacques said, backing up slightly. "Yes... and you'd know all about that," she said, placing a hoof on his chest and pushing gently as she followed him. She allowed herself a light giggle as her tone turned velvety. "And now that nopony is around, I want you to know I've been very appreciative of all these compliments you've thrown my way..." He seemed to respond to this well, for she could taste the emotions coming off of him. There was a twinge of apprehension and excitement underlying a greater sense of desire, the perfect recipe for a brief, sudden surge of passion that would sate her hunger and give her enough power to see her out of this forest. If she was careful at least. It would be nothing serious, but it'd be enough. A sad look came across his face suddenly and he looked away. "I'm afraid... as much as I would simply love to indulge you, cher, I have a distinct feeling your employer will not be appreciative—" "I know. And I don't really care." She smiled, lifting a hoof to his forehead and pushing his hat right off his head. The soaked article of clothing hit the floor as her other hoof traced his foreleg up to his withers. She positioned herself in front of him, his back now to a wall, with beds of crystal flanking them. "...I'm not sure—" "But I am." She chuckled, a sultry tone heavy with intent layered her words, and she felt his desire flare. The burning aftertaste was delicious. There was nothing quite like having feelings directed at yourself, even if it was only for the disguise you were wearing. She pressed up against him now, her head tilted up to his as she inched closer. She could feel his hesitation waning, crumbling. He was all too willing to give in to the moment and she pressed her advantage. She felt his hooves go to her withers and she yielded to his grip as he pulled her to himself ever so slowly, an electric tingle of excitement dancing up her form, one reciprocated in the stallion before her. The hairs of his goatee tickled her face, even through the fur of her guise as they shared breath. And it was there, pressed up against his chest, her eyes focused on his own with a deadly intensity, their lips a hair's breadth from one another, that she let her eyes shut and prepared to simply enjoy the act of feeding. She did not see Jacques' own eyes suddenly widen in alarm. "Bougez-vous!" "W—" Thorax was thrown to the ground bodily, hitting the hard floor with a grunt and rolling. A loud crashing noise sounded from behind her and she felt dust and tiny fragments of stone bounce against her back. She coughed, a cloud of dust lifting off of the floor. She turned to look behind her to see what appeared to be a bunch of crystal embedded in the floor where she had been only moments before. Jacques had pressed up against the wall, standing on his rear legs which were splayed to avoid the crystal flail that had almost crushed both of them, his face cringing at the near miss. The ball of crystal was connecting to a long, winding chain of small crystal links leading back to a central crystalline cluster. Large, easily the size of a pony, the thing hovered in the air silently, crystals changing shape and size at random. The movements were jerky and unnatural. The crystal maul seemed to lose mass as the crystals making it up fractured and formed back into tiny clumps of crystal as the chain connecting it retracted, becoming one with the floating star. It convulsed once and Jacques leapt. A flurry of spikes embedded themselves in the wall behind him. "Run!" he yelled at Thorax, reaching her as he landed with a tumble. He grabbed her by the foreleg and dragged her to her feet. "My sword is not going to work on solid crystal!" The pair of them fled, galloping between the growths of crystal and pillars of stone, down seemingly endless lengths of corridor, forced to turn this way and that as more spikes pierced the ground around them in tiny explosions of rock fragments and crystal shards. A pillar exploded and crumbled away behind them as the crystal star launched another maul, missing Thorax by inches. The changeling cursed every star in the sky for her luck, but that did not make up for the lost meal or for the fact that her life was now on the wrong end of a particularly violent bunch of overgrown geodes. "Here!" "What?" "Up here!" Jacques called. Thorax skid to a halt as she turned to face him. He was already running up an incline she had almost missed, the ground rising up to lead to another level. A way out! She wasted no time and galloped after him, the silent star of destruction weaving its way down between the pillars of stone and crystal, following them unerringly despite the momentary obstruction of its line of sight. The pair of them reached the top of the incline and found themselves levelling off, facing large iron doors. The room they were in had significantly smaller crystal formations, which had to be a good sign. Jacques’ horn lit up as he ran towards the doors, attempting to force them open. Their ancient handles protested violently at the abuse as he turned them, but the door remained unmoved. As he reached them, he planted his forehooves, swung his body around, and bucked the doors. A resounding metallic echo sounded from the impact, but still the doors did not yield. "Merde!" he cursed. "Move!" Thorax shoved him out of the way, her horn glowing as she opened her saddlebags and drew two small, iron pins and a thin knife from within their pockets, bringing them level with the door handle. Thankfully, it had an old fashioned lock. She could work with that. "Where did you—?" "Shh!" She worked frantically, at the same time gently manipulating the pins as she slid her knife into the lock. Her ears were perked and facing the door, listening intently for any sign she was getting close. Jacques turned and drew his sword. He used his magic this time, for he was not fighting an opponent, but rather some magical construct. That called for responding in kind. He muttered an incantation and the etchings upon the edge of the blade shimmered with power. It was going to do blasted little against the physical force of crystal traveling at speed, but he had to do something. The star had barely risen above the incline when a sharp, thin wave of magical energy cut through the air. It broke across its surface, and the sound of breaking glass and cracking ice could be heard. Tiny fragments of crystal fell to the ground as a dark, black scar marred the white surface of the star. The few spurs of crystal it cut across ceased moving as the rest of the star continued to warp and shift. A reverberating sound, as if the star was affronted by the scarring across its surface, echoed throughout the immediate area. A series of crystalline clumps, one after another, emerged from within the construct, forming into another maul which it was preparing to launch. Jacques backed up, his sword sparking with energy. "Crimson!?" "I know!" "We're out of time, Crimson!" "I! Know!" she shouted back. She heard a click and her ears flicked. "Yes!" She put her hooves against the door and braced to push it open. The star struck. A massive boulder of crystal flew through the air and swung around on a length of crystal chain as the star spun before it detached. Jacques dived out of the way and yelled a warning, but it was too late. Thorax turned just as the boulder was a metre from her and could not dive out of the way fast enough before it collided with the iron doors. The metal buckled under the sudden force and the doors were thrown violently open, with the hinges of one of them, ancient beyond reckoning, breaking as the door fell away while the other merely swung around, slamming into the wall on the far side. The twisted door hung by a single, weak hinge as it squeaked mournfully as it swung slowly back around. The force of the boulder flying over her was enough to rip Crimson from her hooves as it crashed into the doors. She was flung bodily along in its wake and tumbled across the threshold, only to find there was no solid floor and flailed her limbs as she fell. The door opened up to a collapsed room whose floor had given way to a lower cellar. This one still had remnants of old crates, barrels, and truly ancient furniture, all badly damaged and rotten and broken. She landed badly on the hard ground and screamed as an explosion of pain tore through her hind leg, the centuries old stagnant water splashing around her as she desperately tried to crawl away. Her eyes closed as she whimpered in pain. The boulder had smashed into a stalagmite somewhere nearby, but she didn't open her eyes to see. Someling shouted her name as she heard something land in the water behind her. The pools were shallow and scattered around the ground, sinking into depressions worn into the stone floor by millennia of wear. She cracked open an eye to try to look around, tears threatening to break through. Changeling repression or not, she was in too much pain to deny them. Jacques was fighting for his life. The star hovered high above them both near the ruined doorway. It warped and changed, and more and more shards erupted from its form and crashed into the ground. The stallion galloped between ancient crates and barrels that splintered and exploded as crystal bolts smashed through them, spilling the dark grey dust that had once been their contents upon the ground. Jacques stomped on his forehooves and turned, his horn shining furiously as he swung his head around, discharging a spell of force that lifted much of the detritus of the room in a single wave and sending it flying towards the star in a wave of solid objects. The star was unfazed as it continued its descent, and another crystal maul burst through the wall of wood in a wave of dust, shards and splintering planks and crashed into the ground next to him, forcing him to jump aside. It was an awkward leap and he stumbled. The star hummed ominously and spun in place, dragging the maul around at speed and colliding bodily with Jacques, knocking him to the ground and sending his sword skittering away to rest in a pool of water in some dank corner. It was hard to see, the only real light in the room coming from the moving crystal star itself, shining harsh white light and casting stark shadows on everything. Thorax lay where she landed in the darkness, gritting through the pain as she watched Jacques try to bring himself to his hooves, stumbling and failing and crawling over to a turned over stone table near the wall below the point from which they fell. The star hovered over him, retracting the crystal maul back into itself, its various spikes gesticulating wildly as it convulsed, deep rumblings emanating from within it as it got closer and closer to him, completely ignoring her for now. She let out a shuddering breath but didn't try to speak, the pain burning through her leg threatening to overwhelm her as she watched on helplessly. Jacques’ horn lit up and she saw him cast a shield around himself. It was thin, not something the pony was used to casting. She doubted it would hold out for long. As she watched in grim assurance that once the star was done with him, it'd come for her, all she could hear was the lone mournful cry of the tortured, ancient hinge from which the remaining door hung, so far above her. 'Wait...' She looked up. The rectangular sliver of light that was the room from which she had fallen drew her attention upwards. The entrance was at least a floor or two above her; she could not tell exactly how far. She spied the iron door as it swung sadly on its abused hinges, its movements altering the amount of light pouring from the room. It was above the crystal star and Jacques, hanging dangerously from the rusting piece of metal holding it in place. There was the sound of shattering glass and her attention was drawn back to the crystal, which was now testing Jacques' shield. It fired one shard and then another, each rebounding off of the magical shield. It could smash Jacques' shield in an instant if it wanted. It was almost as if it was enjoying watching the pony squirm underneath his shield. Her breathing was laboured as she cried out, pain shooting through her form as she shifted her weight to get a better look at the door above them. She needed a better angle if she was going to pull this off. Her horn flickered and flared as she tried to grip the door. The tendrils of her magic strained as she reached out to it, unable to grab the entirety of its form. She grimaced under the effort. It was going to be difficult to direct it the way she wanted to. She was going to have to pull and pray it worked out. Jacques, meanwhile, was throwing absolutely everything he had into the spell, power coursing through him, the familiar static thrill running along the skin beneath his fur as it coalesced at the base of his horn. A shot of pain pierced his head from the sore nerves from when he had hit his horn in the fight with that earth pony mage at the tournament, but he bore through it as the magic spiralled along the grooves of his horn and poured into the shield. Every impact threatened to penetrate the magical barrier, every reverberation strained his concentration and caused him to nearly drop it entirely. His side hurt, but it was nothing serious. He'd be able to get up so long as he survived the onslaught but he was going to be walking with a limp. The crystal star hovered in place, continuing its siege, and it was all he could do to hold out. He looked on with grim fatalism as he saw the star began to extrude a long line of smaller crystal clusters to the ground, gathering and reforming on themselves into the maul it had used so many times before. It looked like the construct had lost its patience and wanted to be done with him. It flashed and made more of those ominous, rumbling noises, reminiscent of the sound of ice settling itself under a surprisingly warm winter's day, as it began slowly turning. It dragged the maul along the ground in circles around itself as it built up the momentum to strike. Faster and faster, he watched as the maul lifted off the ground and circled around the star. He calmly closed his eyes and waited for it to hit, taking a breath and prepared for when it would shatter his shield like so much sugar glass and crash into him. A tremendous crash echoed throughout the room, accompanied by the sound of shattered crystal. The door stood on its side where it had landed. The metal slab groaned as its weight brought it over, leaning slowly to the side before crashing into the floor with another thunderous noise. Jacques was surprised to feel a wave of dust, wood, stone, crystal fragments, and stagnant water splash over him, but mostly he was surprised he was alive enough to hear and feel all of that. In the silence that followed, he dared to crack open an eye. He saw that his shield was gone, but he also saw the crystal star from before was equally shattered. An iron door, twisted and warped from blunt trauma applied to it, lay on the ground no more than half a foot away from him, crystal shards of various sizes surrounding it. The biggest portions convulsed, gesticulating wildly before slowly growing still, the ungodly noises the star had made now silent as the light slowly died from within the crystal, leaving the pony in darkness. "Ha..." he breathed, more out of shock than anything. “Heh... Hehe... Hahahaha!" He continued nervously laughing at his incredibly good fortune, more than a little happy to still be alive. He quickly got over it when he realized he was still missing somepony. "Crimson!?" he called. His horn lit up, bathing everything in a soft, golden light. "Where are you?" "O-Over... here..." Thorax managed between grunts of pain. Now everything hurt: her head, her body, and her stomach which pointedly reminded her that she was quite famished on top of everything else. Pulling that door off of its hinge had taken almost everything. With what little magic she had left, that was a dangerous expense of her power. Her head pounded and she could barely feel her own horn through the magical fatigue and the pressure building up in her forehead. She didn't notice the change in her voice when she spoke. "Was that you? Sainte merde, jument you have impeccable aiming," Jacques said, locating his sword as he made his way over to her. "Heh... nrgh, thanks. Wasn't sure if I had pulled it far enough..." she managed. Jacques' ear flicked as he moved objects out of his way in order to get to her. "You alright, chère? You sound... off." "I think I hurt my leg. It hurts to move..." she said, the light from his horn reaching her as he moved the last of the furniture out of the way. "Don't worry about that," he said, moving a barrel to the side before turning back to her and reaching out with a hoof. "I know a bit of field dressing. All I need is some relatively clean... cloth..." He trailed off, his happy expression falling as his eyes widened slowly at her. "Hey, what's wrong?" she asked, the smile falling from her face as she studied the shocked expression the stallion wore. "Hey! Come on! Are you going to help me up or wha—?” Her words caught in her throat as she reached out with a foreleg, touching his offered hoof which had frozen in place as he continued to stare at her. She saw the shiny black dermis of her leg, slick with water, and saw the holes that perforated it and allowed her to spy through her own limb. She slowly tore her gaze up from her leg to look into the swordspony's eyes and knew then that he was looking at her in her true form. Her magic had failed, her glamour had fallen away, and with it all pretence of being the pony named Crimson as something deep within her rumbled in hunger. She felt the need to feed and knew she was both too weak to do anything about it and too weak to escape the sight of this pony who had discovered her. Chartreuse eyes met blue and the covers slid out of the slits in the dermis on either side of her face as she covered them in an instinctive defensive reflex. He didn't say anything as she withdrew her hoof, her panicked mind desperately searching for a way out. Between the hunger, the exhaustion she felt, and her hurt leg, she knew there was no way out, and he stood between her and the doorway that only led deeper and deeper into what could very well be her grave. There could be no other outcome for a changeling.