//------------------------------//
// Hivemind I 
// Story: A Circle Has No End: Volume II 
// by Gladi Writes 
//------------------------------//

Wildcard was cold; bitterly cold, and even the coat coddling him within its thick furry womb wasn't enough to keep the biting cold of an Equestrian winter at bay. Especially this winter, the worst in generations untold. He shivered, as did the dozen or so other changelings, but they made their way forward regardless. Their hooves crunched through the fresh snow, not too deep but deep enough to have slowed their journey and make what should have been a quick outing a five-hour excursion. Even the late-afternoon sun couldn't give them respite from the cold, and all it did was reflect back into their eyes. Wildcard already had to send one of his followers home over snowblindness, and the rest had salvaged Wonderbolt flight goggles as a temporary measure against it. 
After hours of walking they finally arrived, and Wildcard stopped to take a good look at the deep hole before them, hidden from aerial view by a blanket of camoflaging snow. He had been meaning to come here for some time, and with the quick revolution behind him; he finally had the chance. He took a deep breath, coughed from the sudden biting cold inside his lungs, and silently gestured his followers towards the staircase that ran around the edge of the deep pit. For a moment they looked confused, until a bitter gust blew at the snow, swirling it into the air as it blew into the pit; exposing the rocky descent. Wildcard took their rear, and watched as the wind swept snow from the dozens of stone markers at the floor of the opening, and halted beside one as his company spread out. He leaned down as his horn begin to light up with green magic, and brushed away the remaining snow carefully. It exposed a name, a date, and some wording. 


"Firewing, 556-601, Lost to us after a long fight with cancer."


Wildcard pondered it for a moment. Even back then, Equestria had the means and knowledge to prevent such a thing, but out here one was away from the mages and doctors of Canterlot. They could have gone back, but they had chosen to follow Chrysalis even so. 
He sighed, that level of delusional fanatacism had almost destroyed their race. Regardless of their delusions, it was ultimately Chrysalis' doing, not these poor ponies. His mission today was to record the original changeling outcasts, and maybe learn why they had chosen to follow her in the first place. 

Wildcard looked to his side, and then turned to face the short changeling standing there. With eyes of green that contrasted with Wildcard's blue, he was one of few Changeling warriors that had been in Equestria when things had culimated. He was an unknown, he was untested, and so he and the others like him made a perfect personal guard. He would die for Wildcard, and in time; kill for him.

"Thinwing, mark this one down," he ordered, and strode on through the tombstones as Thinwing deligently wrote the text onto parchment. 

All around nine other changelings did the same, quickly collecting the information Wildcard wanted, in the way he wanted. This investigation was personal to him, and he wanted it kept secret as much as a test of his own abilities to keep it a secret as anything else. If he was to lead the changelings, he needed to be able to count on controlling information. As ironic as it was to think, only weeks after she had met her doom- what they needed was someone like Chrysalis, a central figure to dictate and lead. Wildcard snorted, small crystals of ice fluttering from his nose as he did. It sounded so evil, so generic- "Well, I'll just become The New Chrysalis. The same... but better!". Regardless, it was a simple neccessity at the moment. With a war on one side, food shortage on the other, and a highly dangerous missing changeling on the third- they had problems. Democracy could wait until they had food on the table and a lock on the door. 

Said missing changeling was the other reason for his need for control. Medulla, the previous second to Chrysalis', was out there. He had followed her to the very end, his absolute fanaticism unswerving in even her final hours. Even dispute his delusional sympathy he was still intelligent however, a born and trained leader just like Wildcard. Cunning, and beyond having nothing to lose- he already lost everything. He was out there, and Wildcard had no idea what he was doing. That was perhaps Wildcard's truest fear- not knowing.

Shaking his head clear of thoughts, Wildcard stared up at the stone overhang that stood out of the end of the pit. It was shaped like a skull, with a twisted horn jutting out of it that had long lost its tip. Wildcard trotted over and into the cave, and he peered into the inky blackness, lighting his horn when his sun-bleached eyes failed to adjust to the dark. Thinwing had finished his task, and tailed him closely, his face one of feriocity, but his darting eyes betrayed his fear. 

Wildcard looked back at him, and gave a big toothy smirk, "What, Thinwing, afr-"

Something caught Wildcard's leg, and he slammed into the ground face first. Yelping in surprise, and then again in pain he groaned and raised his head, dazed and with his magical light sputtering as waves of pain wracked his body. He shook his head clear and then blinked. As soon as his vision cleared he shrieked in terror, scrambling backwards awkwardly as he was met with a face full of ancient, decaying, skull.
Thinwing laughed, "What, Wildcard, afraid of the dead?" he joked.

Wildcard gave him a harsh glare, silencing the short warrior, and turned his gaze back to what would appear to be an upended sarcophagus. Someone had already been here- Medulla no doubt. So he focused his light more, bathing the area under his gaze in green as he slowly investigated. 

A corpse indeed, and an ancient one. Some stubborn flesh still clung to its bones, more like wispy webs of silk than what had once supported a living thing. He prodded an arm, seperated from the whole, and it fell to dust. His investigation then continued up along it, revealing a slender frame and the skull of a unicorn, with the horn sharpened. An old custom: one would sharpen their horn as a masculine gesture. It was incredibly painful to endure, but the effect of catching a horn to the gut was rather gory indeed. Wildcard picked it up, and dry skin draped off it as he inspected the head of his ancient forebears.

Wildcard sighed. As fascinating as this all was, it wasn't getting him anywhere closer to revealing why Medulla had been interested in this place. The historical value was obvious, but what was the strategic value? He shook his head, tossed the skull back with the rest, and pointed at Thinwing. 

"We've still got a job to do, get over here and record this," he ordered.

The rest of the recordings took the changelings around two hours, and then they departed on their way home. Wildcard took the lead of the group once again, and a pair of them ensured even their hoofprints were invisible, and covered the grave-site with fresh snow gathered from nearby trees. Changelings were quite adept at stealth, even the lowest warrior was trained in remaining unseen. This was to Wildcard's advantage, but he knew full well not only did Medulla know all their strategies, but he knew how to counter them. 

It did not take them long to return home, as their eagerness to be beside a warm fire once again harried their pace, as did the suns slow descent down the horizon.  Soon enough the great monolithic tower of the Hive Fortress rose ahead of them, and then stone walls that bordered the Hive itself became visible as they descended the rim of the valley where they made their home. Almost at a cantering pace they broke through the pine trees bordering the thickly-snowed outer fields before the Hive, and hurriedly crunched their way towards the waiting walls. They had been unable to repair the many holes left by the short battle for control of the Hive, and had been forced to leave them open until the winter passed. The changelings scattered and then vanished into the Hive itself, watched over by skilled sentries that had seen them from a mile away.

Wildcard himself walked with an air of dignity as he entered through one of the holes- sidestepping the remains of an abandoned gun emplacement from a month ago. They needed a good deal of cleanup and repairs to the Hive, but it would have to do through the winter. 
The guards he passed bowed, their dark forms lit by a small fire they had lit to keep themselves warm at their post, and Wildcard nodded at them. 
"Has anything important happened while I was away?" he asked.

The lead guard shook his head, "Nothing at all, unless you count that deer we shot earlier," he says, and grins widely. "Going to make for a good dinner, that's for sure."

Wildcard laughed, and patted the stallions shoulder. "Could always use a little meat to go with the mushrooms, but do be quiet around the ponies- they already think we're evil, the last thing we need is to scare them- they don't like carnivores" he said, and then walked past the post into the Hive. 

Wildcard's chest expanded as he took in a deep breath, immersing himself with the familiar smells of home. The smell of hundreds of changelings, mushroom soup, and burning wood. Their chattering conversations buzzes in the air, and the sound of dripping water from melting snow was like a background whisper. These were, truly, his people. He had fought and killed for them, and he would continue to do whatever it took to keep them safe. He started to unzip his coat, feeling the warmth of dozens of fires in the main courtyard, and coughed as his soft body forced the zipper down most of the way for him. Taking up a position of leadership meant he got out less, thought more, and had access to a rather impressive assortment of foods. As he strode his way towards the fortress, he glanced around and smelled some of what his fellows were cooking. Mushroom soups in great cauldrons, a few unlucky deer roasting on spits, and some imported Equestrian cider that was being shared amongst the groups. He wasn't sure how they were getting it- the rail line was still out of commission- but Equestrian cider somehow found its way down here even while Equestria was rationing.

It would be a fools errand to stop it, and he did enjoy a pint (or five) now and then himself, so regardless as to what black-market dealings got it down here, he let it go. He made his way to the fortress, actually- he thought with a smirk-, his fortress, and pushed the great black doors open with his magic. 

Finally in from the cold, he removed his coat and left it near the door. A lack of resources, as well as comradarie amongst the changelings, meant that almost everything was shared. While Wildcard doubted such a strong bond would last forever, it was nice to be part of a family that numbered in the hundreds. He asked the door guards where his second in command- Silver Shield- might be found, and was directed to the war room. 

On his way there, trotting down the corridors of the fortress and lost in his own thoughts, he paused. One of the paintings had caught his attention, and he wondered for a moment why it was still allowed to hang. It depicted Chrysalis, and someone else, standing over a dark stone outcropping. Fire surrounded them, blue eyes looked out from the dark behind them, and the pair looked boldly outwards. Clearly designed to glorify Chrysalis, he imagined it had been allowed to remain simply because it was a part of this place. It was a part of their home, and they hadn't taken the time to clean the courtyard much less clear out reminders of Chrysalis's rule. He tilted his head after a time, inspecting it closer. That person beside Chrysalis, he was a unicorn and had the same build of the corpse at the burial site. 

It certainly made sense that it would be him, but why had Chrysalis never spoken of him? It seemed odd that the only evidence of his existance was a long-buried tomb and a painting in one of the less travelled halls. He also noted that the stallion was wearing a sort of necklace, which was glowing as green as the eyes of the two hulking changelings that flanked the lead pair. He hummed to himself, and wondered if that might have been what Medulla had taken. He would simply have to investigate this further.