//------------------------------// // Better Left Buried // Story: Old Flame // by Bateman66 //------------------------------// By the time we got back to the house it was just at the cusp of downpouring. Thunder already boomed in the distance and as we stepped in through the front door a flash of lightning jolted through the sky. Soon, it would be downpouring, and we had just missed it by the skin of our teeth. Neuro promptly retired to his office with that odd box of envelopes, leaving me to stand in the front hallway while the rain picked up outside. It was late but not too late. I still had work that needed doing, granted, work done upon my own digression. Not once had Neuro actually told me to clean what needed cleaning or fix what needed fixing. He didn't need to. I was content in doing something that kept my mind and hands busy, with the Neuro paying me and letting me temporary live here just an added bonus. I ascended the staircase up to the second floor and unconsciously began to wander. This had been where I'd started in my masterful sweep of the entire mansion-like house. Not a surface remained undusted, not a carpet was unvacuumed, and not a single trace of clutter remained after my work was through. Despite all this, there was only so much I could do with the place. The walls themselves were painted a drab yellow color with the brightness almost entirely faded. The hallway laps didn't have the brightest bulbs and the carpets appeared from the last century if not more. If I didn't know better, I would have said this place was haunted. But I knew that clearly wasn't so. I'd trekked through the halls of a much darker place in a much darker land, and not once had I encountered something even resembling a specter. No, this was just an old house in need of some drastic repairs. And whether Neuro would actually get them was left up to him, but I prayed he would sometime soon. These empty halls still gave me the chills. There were so many rooms, more so than what would have been necessary for two people at a time. Other bedrooms, drawing rooms, sitting rooms, unused studies. It seemed that Neuro primarily dwelt on the building's ground floor, with only the occasional trek up here to retrieve the something he'd left up here in storage. I'd also been aware that there was another floor above this own, an even more deprecated third floor that I don't even think Neuro had traversed. The spiral staircase that led up there was covertly hidden behind a door that seemed as if it led to just another room in the corridor but in reality ascended to this mysterious realm of the house. I had come across it during my initial sweep of the floor but only noted it in passing. After that colt's warning however, I was a bit more suspicious as to its whereabouts. Perhaps he was just a crazy old goat jumping at shadows. But as the circumstances were reminding me, Neuro was very good at keeping his motives secret. And if there was a completely unused section of the house, then why? The door opened without a sound and I clunked up the dizzying metal cylinder without a second thought. When I reached the top I found myself in an even smaller corridor, with only a white door in front of me and two windows off to my sides. There wasn't a single light in the small room, with only the occasional flash of lightning illuminating it entirely. As I stepped toward the door I could see that there was a padlock placed over the deadbolt, recently installed by the look of it. A boom of thunder sounded in the distance followed by a flash of lightning. Something was afoot. I didn't have a lockpick to jangle the lock open and getting a pair of bolt cutters from downstairs would be too obvious if Neuro saw me. Thankfully, I needed neither. Focusing the magic to my palms, I produced a single steady stream of energy from the tip of my index finger. I brought the small aura of bright blue light to the lock and gradually burnt through the hardened steel. After just a few moments, the lock snapped off and jangled to the floor, prompting me to immediately dissipate the energy. I was in. The door swung open almost on its own, with its ill-oiled hinges creaking with each inch forward. "You can do this," I mumbled to myself and stepped inside. The room was entirely bare. No furniture, no carpets, no lights. Wide windows were across each side with wispy curtains sitting idly. There were heavy scratches marks against the bare wood, as if something heavy had been moved quite some time ago. There was a set of pull-away doors at the end of the room, almost shrouded by the ambient shadows. I approached them, stopping just shy of the aged metal knobs to open it. What would I find behind them? A body? Stolen jewels? Secret documents? A body? Nothing? I both wanted and didn't want to know exactly what lied inside, but I already knew I didn't have a choice. I'd eventually come back up sooner or later to discover the secret. Might as well do it now. Reaching forward, I placed both my palms against the handles and thrust the closet open in a single swoop. But there wasn't a body inside, or stolen jewels, or secret documents, or even nothing. Instead, there was a simply wooden trunk, setting inside the vacant closet. It wasn't locked. It wasn't latched. It lacked dust along its top but looked as old as any other item in the house. I stared at it for a long moment, contemplating just what to do with it. Lightning flashed outside. As if in a dream, I rested my hands against the icy wooden top and gradually pulled it open. I was confused at first by the contents, then surprised, then shocked. I found my hands were now trembling and the chest's lid slammed to floor as it slipped from my fingers. I gulped. Swallowed the anxiety, the fear, the distortion. I felt a familiar rage creep into my veins, a power I had long since believed would never been experienced again. I could feel my disposition change, the darkness creeping around my very being once again. Neuro had a lot to answer for, whether he wanted to or not. Taking a handful of what was inside the chest, I turned to leave, fire coursing through my spirit. I would make him suffer. ---------- A majority of the collected files weren't all that interesting. Most were newspaper articles I'd already read or knew the gist of. Others were editorials of what had happened, more so glorified conspiracies trying to offer some sort of explanation of just what had happened in Canterlot two months ago. To any outside observer one could tell that the media didn't have a clue. A college degree wasn't necessary to tell when ponies were grabbing for straws. But if one counter-referenced a few of these articles, if one pieced together enough firsthand accounts, if one had some friends in the Sun Guard, one could get a bit clearer of a picture. Which was exactly as I was getting. The murky details were starting to reveal themselves. From all my work in just this past hour I was already forming a straight story. Canterlot and any other settlement from the Crescent Isle onwards was fired upon by a fleet of ships dubbed 'Air Destroyers'. From outside observation (and a few blurry photographs) they appeared much better armored than the typical air galleys the Sun Guard used. On top of this, their armaments held much heftier of a punch in comparison to other ordinance cannons. But there was a reason to these more advanced ships. Most accounts stated a fleet of only five of these ships, with only three or four air galleys providing an escort role. The offensive force was clearly not as numerous as the Equestrian Fleet and seemed to realize this in how they had positioned themselves: a closely formed flight pattern that offered the ultimate protection from close or long distance attack. What presented a bigger query was how the ships had been able to slip onto the main continent without being spotted until they had unleashed their fury. This implied a cloaking device or invisibility spell. The first option alluding to a technologically advanced group, with the second alluding to a band of skilled sorcerers. But if this was the case, why had they used mechanized battle craft in the first place? If they possessed such resources, why make their attack so apparent? It was risky enough insinuating a battle on the mainland, better yet over the capitol itself. What was the motive? What was the logic? That still remained a mystery to me and was proving to be much more difficult than anything else. And then the battle had stopped and the ships had went into a sudden retreat, disappearing through the clouds as quickly as they had arrived. Not a single ship had been lost on their side, without trace of their presence left behind minus the destruction they'd wrought. That was where things truly stopped making sense...except for one thing. A contact we had in the University, an old guard pony going by the name 'Steel Cuff' had been able to tell a very interesting account of the battle. According to him, just minutes before the Destroyers began to retreat, a single air galley had boarded the forward-most ship. It was the largest and most menacing of the fleet, giving hint to it serving the role as a capital ship for the fleet. What was the most interesting about this was not of the ship's proportions and the unlikelihood of single galley evading its defenses, but who was actually aboard the light craft. Records suggested it was none other than Princess Twilight herself. She'd been without an escort and only the operating crew of the galley accompanying her, implying that a traditional ship boarding had not been in mind. From there, red and purple lights could be seen flashing from atop the ship's deck, with crackles of electricity rivaling even that of lightening bolts being heard from as far as the city's outskirts. What perturbed me was why had a more formidable opponent, namely Princess Celestia, not been the one to directly attack the Destroyer in this surprise encounter. Clearly she was the more powerful between the two. Unless...unless it had been her sister aboard the ship. No, impossible. Although Luna had disappeared weeks prior, the energy seen from the sky did not match signatures of either her or her twisted doppelganger, Nightmare Moon. The theory of her responsibility in the attack had been tossed around a considerable length, but in no way could the timing of her disappearance match up the amount of preparation this mysterious group had invested. And then it occurred to me, like a sudden flash of clarity as the pieces quickly assembled. I'd requested this information to form a suspicion I'd been unconsciously rolling over in my mind, and until now did it all seem apparent. I understood everything. Alistair's year long disappearance offered a perfect time-span for this group to prepare themselves for war. Prior knowledge pointed to his favorable use of electricity in his spells and the fact that Twilight Sparkle's involvement followed by the sudden retreat gave hint to their prior connection with one another. If this was all true...who was the young man I'd willingly invited into my home? A hostile knocking, more so slamming, came against my office door. Before I could even flinch, the door swung open and Alistair came storming into my office, a red aura of energy trailing him He was clutching something in his right hand. With poisoned hate dripping from his words, he hissed: "We need to talk."