• Published 13th Sep 2013
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Fallout : Equestria - New Roam Innovatus - Delvius



The land of the old Roaman empire is rife with a toxic wasteland, plagued by the remnants of the old world as well as the new. Finally, a Praetorian arises to protect the city like the legionaries of old.

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Chapter IX - Fundamental Issues

Chapter IX
Fundamental Issues
"Which is the true nightmare, the horrific dream that you have in your sleep or the dissatisfied reality that awaits when you wake?"






​So... that was the stuff that happened. I know it all sounds really odd and crazy -- even I feel that way for it, and I was there. I was there, in all that craziness... part of it. A cause for some of it. Even now I still have some really strong emotions for what happened that time. I'd almost lost it, after all. I probably had. Cause if it weren't for Goldwreath being there, I'd... well, I'd definitely not be here now. I'd have gotten myself killed; run through with a sword or impaled with a spear... and damn me, at the time I'd have smiled to feel death. Now, well... things changed, as you know. For all of us, not just me. Though, heh, I am telling my part in all this change, so I'll focus on that. So, where was I?

​Oh right. Knocked out and crushed underneath the weight of dozens of people, I remember now. Strange to realize that such an important step in my journey involved so much pain... you know, that was the first time I'd ever gotten knocked out. In the wasteland, it was a pretty common occurrence. You pass out from pain, hunger, thirst, exhaustion... but me, I'd never really gotten involved in things that made passing out a common thing. Another perk to keeping to myself, I guess.

​So, how to describe the first time? Honestly, it's nothing at all like you'd expect. Unless you really slowly feel it coming, sensing every weakening throb and dizzying breath, passing out's actually a pretty anticlimactic thing. It's like instantly falling asleep -- at least, that's how it was for me. So as with sleep, and I remember it clearly enough, I... saw things in my head. Dreams. I recall... I recall seeing Vox Populi, in full knight's plate, trudging down dark tunnels of concrete and metal. He was searching for something; I could tell from the way he looked around, how he squinted at minute details in the walls and how he paused to listen to every sound. Then he looked up and seemed to stare right at me. His brows even furrowed to show irritation. But then he turned and walked into the shadows.

​I also saw visions of animals: of wild beasts, stalking dark corridors and halls. I'd seen such animals before, on the surface, always in packs and always keeping to themselves when not on the hunt. Strange, then, that I saw not that, but a huge number of them running amok in sewers and subways. You would never see so many of them on the surface, and not moving like that -- why, they seemed to be migrating... or running from something.

​But the thing I remember most clearly were these two... red lights. Like, glowing orbs in utter darkness. I saw nothing else, and had no reason to believe they were anything special. And yet I couldn't help but feel that there was more to them. In my dream, I stared at them, following them with my gaze; there was a faint sensation of motion, like I was floating ahead of the lights as they glided quietly forward in an impenetrable blackness. But the more I stared, I felt... a deepening sense of intrusion in me. It didn't make sense. They were just lights. What was so frightening about that? Why, with darkness all around me, I should have been grateful for sources of even dim illumination.

​But then the sense of motion stopped. I couldn't see anything but the two orbs, but I could tell we were now still. I started to feel paranoid. I was twitchy, and I really felt it. You know how in dreams you don't really feel anything? At the time you can't tell it's a dream, but you never really feel things as you would in real life. Things aren't as crisp. Well, here they were. Here, I felt every panicked heartbeat thunder in my ears, every shiver as a cold air wafted through the darkness. It was like I was standing on the edge of an abyss. Just one push, one strong gush of freezing air, and then... then I'd be thrown into some deep chasm, accompanied only by those two lights.

​The lights and I, we continued stared at each other. Yet for all their aura of danger and paranoia, I couldn't help but feel they intended none of my anxiety. They were curious, like with animals near someone's fire -- they watched but dared not come close. Then the two orbs tilted, one moving up over the other, which descended. A soft, rapid clicking sound filled the air as the they oriented themselves the other way around and slowly moved closer. This time they didn't fly through the air in silence, maintaining an altitude. No, this time they bobbed up and down, and dull thuds accompanied them in their approach. I jerked back... or at least tried to. I was frozen where I was.

​"You are not any apparition sight has shown me," someone said, his low, cracking voice sounding muffled and dry -- the rasp and thrum were signs of either thirst or a sore throat. A black shape moved from under the faint illumination of the lights, and it slowly approached me. "And who are you? Have we met before?"

​I was really panicking then, breathing frantically as I struggled to escape. I flailed limbs I couldn't even see, but my position didn't change. I was stuck, and the dark shape only continued its approach. I was terrified.

​But I was saved. Around me, the cold air blew like a full-blown wind, encasing me in their freezing clutches. The dark, prodding shape had only almost reached me before the cold grew so incredibly frigid that all my sight blurred and phased out, replaced with another scene...

***Roama Victrix***

​I gasped and jerked up, freezing water dripping off me as I shook myself dry. Everything was so dark! Blurry patches of light illuminated through the haze. Still panting, heart racing, I blinked rapidly and cleared my vision.

​Goldwreath looked down at me, his expression concerned, his eyes wide as he looked me over. He was panting too, and perhaps not just from exhaustion or worry -- though they were surely part of the reason why he was. The main cause must've been whatever injury he was hiding with the streak of bandages circling his chest and wings. They were a lot like the bandages I had wrapped around my own body; the bloodstains were even in the same place.

​"Myst?" He took a step forward, leaning his head down. He took deep breath, swallowing air. "Are you okay?"

​Memories of my psychotic episode flooded back to me, and though the anguish that'd prompted them had faded, the emotional guilt and shame that followed in their wake were as strong as ever. My physical response was immediate: I jerked back, feeling filthy and worthless. I scuttled away until my rump thumped into a corner. Cold, moist concrete had blocked my way. I snapped my gaze back to Goldwreath, and at the pandemonium of chaotic activity behind him. Those were the people I'd blocked; the people I'd rammed into in my maddened frenzy. I'd hit them. Caused them panic. I was the cause for some of the suffering they were now enduring in this... dark, dank sewer tunnel. I was to blame for this. I shivered, a cold breeze blowing at my wet form. Then a powerful throb jolted through my skull; my hooves reflexively went up to caress my temples, and I felt the bandages wrapped around my head. I shut my eyes, holding back tears of pain and guilt.

​I heard wet clopping as hooves trotted close. "Myst," Goldwreath said tenderly. When I didn't respond, he sighed and tried again. "Myst."

​I drew myself together tighter. "I... I'm sorry. I didn't mean for it to come to that. I just... couldn't take it..." I stopped myself short even as every needy impulse in me went off. I needed this. I needed to talk about it. What'd happened earlier... it was clearly all a result of bottled up stress. I knew that. I wasn't stupid, just... scared. I'd always been afraid to act on what I knew. But could I talk about it with him? Now? Here? With these people around? No... no, I couldn't. We had to get out of here first. I'd already jeopardized everything with my stupid tantrum. I could pay them back by not being a burden, at least for a while. If that meant bottling things up just a little more and controlling myself, well... I could at least try to do that.

​Slowly, I opened my eyes. I met the pegasus' concerned golden irises, and fought down one last fierce impulse to blabber on about my own selfish problems. "N-nevermind," I said shakily, my body weak and achier than before. Goldwreath tilted his head and narrowed an eye, skeptical. "Nevermind. I... I can deal with this. Don't worry about me. It's... nothing new." That was a lie, of course. I'd gone through the same predictable roller-coaster ride of emotions before, but never anything that took my suicidal impulses and... and actually made me act on them. But he didn't have to know that. "I've dealt with this before. Trust me... I can handle it."

​"Myst, you tried to kill yourself," he said bluntly, making me wince. He sighed, and painstakingly knelt so his face was inches from mine. Sternly, his eyes boring into me, he said, "If there is something wrong, say it now. The next time that happens, neither of us may be worth pulling out of a pile. Understand?" I swallowed, looking away, but he stole my attention back with a firm touch to my shoulder. His eyes narrowed. "Understand?"

​I was shaking, trembling from the cold and from fear. I closed my eyes and nodded. "Can... can we at least talk about it later?" I asked, almost pleading.

​"Of course," he replied, letting out a breath as he stood back upright. I looked up and saw exhaustion in his features. "No arguing the 'later' part. Now is... not a good time to be talking. No, we should be moving. If Imperius is determined, that door won't hold for too long." He sighed and looked over his shoulder, at the havoc. It was like seeing the crowds of injured and dead outside Arachna all over again... in fact, most of these people were likely present in that same mess, not even a whole day ago. And now here they were again, on makeshift stretchers and filthy cloths. Probably the only real difference was the space and the lighting -- the crowd was stretched across a long tunnel illuminated by green glowing mushrooms. If the orange of torches had made Arachna seem apocalyptic, then the green of bio-luminescent fungi made it all seem so... sinister. "Someone has to get these people moving along."

​He looked back to me, then stuffed his face into his saddlebags. Out came a purple cloth; I recognized it. It was the cape he'd been wearing as part of his praetorian armor. Not a piece of it was on him now. I suppose he'd had to take it off to treat his own injuries.

​He stepped over and draped it over me. "Keep warm and stay here. I'll be back soon." As he went off towards the people, he looked back at me over his shoulder, bearing a warning look. "Don't do anything stupid... please."

​I kept to myself from then on. With him gone, thought overtook me. Oh sure, I'd tried once or twice to force myself up to help the nearest of my fellow refugees. It wasn't stupid, and I'd have been near where Goldwreath told me to stay, so it wouldn't have upset him... but after a few attempts I remembered that I had caused them their suffering. I remembered that I had been the one who'd delayed the evacuation. Heh, as if the damn operation wasn't dangerous and uncertain enough, right? Then along came me, a mare in the middle of a psychopathic breakdown. I'd lost the only place I'd ever come upon that accepted me, even if barely. Why, strip away the awkward routines and the stares I'd gotten, and my time in Spiderhole was the best I'd had in all my memory... it was the closest I'd had to a home. And... now it was gone. It and all in it that I'd loved. I was... lost again.

​No more tears came. I had used them all up in my anguished tantrum. Now there was only the despairing, lonesome thought; the single question I'd asked myself as many times as I'd gone to sleep: 'What now, Myst?'

​Well... off the top of my head, I had to find a new home, somewhere. Some place that would tolerate me, maybe even accept me... though nowhere would ever feel like Spiderhole. There I met one of the few people who'd ever made me feel like a person, not a fugitive. But where could I go? I knew nothing of the surrounding land or its people. I didn't know the local fauna or the animals. No, all that knowledge was deprived from me the moment I fell into Spiderhole's trapdoor. With the same time I'd spent underground, I could probably have learned everything about the locale.

​An even more tantalizing -- and logical solution, too! -- was to follow Goldwreath. The idea warmed me a bit inside, and I brought my limbs in even tighter to compound the new heat. Oh... oooh, the thought of it... no, but seriously! Emotions aside, he was the only other person I could trust, even if just a bit. At least he seemed decent and wouldn't try to kill me... or, you know, worse. And he was travelling, too -- if I followed him, I could learn of the area in relative safety. It was always safer to travel with at least one other person, as long as your primary objective wasn't secrecy and stealth. Yeah... yeah, it could work, right? Yes, it could! And... and though it pained me to think on it, probably by the time Goldwreath was done with his travels, I'd have found a place I could stay. A new home. Then we'd say our goodbyes and... that would be that. Our lives would go on.

​I frowned, then sighed. It's not like I had any other choice. I'd follow him -- at least my mind readily agreed (some parts of me even let out whoops and cheers, but the general somber mood of the rest of my head trashed their celebrations). The plan, well... it wasn't ideal. No, in a perfect world, I'd have had it that Spiderhole got fixed and Goldwreath stayed. Maybe then we could've been good friends. Maybe more... and I'd always have Tavish to turn to. But no. This was the circumstance forced on us. I had to go with it. It was hard to imagine things getting better with this plan of mine... it would never be good as Spiderhole was. But at least it gave me hope, even if hope always came back to hurt me. I wouldn't have anything left if I gave up on hope.

​I looked up and around. Things were hectic but calming down. I suppose, having not been attacked for however long they've been out, people were thinking things would stay that way. Me, my thoughts drifted towards Spiderhole -- the entrance to which I no longer knew the location of. I swallowed, holding back the urge to burst into sobs. I mean... had the knights won? Or were they all killed, Tavish along with them? What... what would become of Spiderhole now? What would...

No. No, Myst. Don't think on what could be gone. You did that just a while ago and it made you go insane. Losing your home's bad enough... don't wonder about that. Please, don't...

​The answers to my questions seemed obvious, but nonetheless I went to distracting myself. It was all I could do. Tavish had made his choices, his sacrifices, so we could continue living. And though I was pretty much an expert at thinking about depressing things, I'd be wasting his efforts by lingering on it. I had to move on. I did that all the time... nomadic in real life, and nomadic in thought. That's how I'd always lived. The only thing I could never get away from were my own damn problems, though, and all this... well, they just added to those issues. Like tossing more stones in a sack; things were heavier now, but I'd always known the weight.

​Yeah. That was it... things were just heavier now. That was all. That... was... all...

​I don't know how long I stared into space, lost in my thoughts. It could very well have been an hour, for when I blinked and looked around things had changed dramatically. People were getting up, moving, slinging rucksacks and saddlebags over their flanks and shoulders. Those too hurt to go without help were hauled onto stretchers cobbled together with cloth and walking sticks. It was miserable sight, forlorn and depressing, but not uncommon. Such things happened all the time.

​But these people had hope. I could see it in their faces, and it surprised me. They had energy yet, something that drove them on. They stood eagerly, waiting with patience even as the darkness of the tunnel fought with the light of mushrooms to create dizzying contrast. They seemed ready, needing only direction. I stood up, drawing Goldwreath's cloak over me as a dank breeze blew by. What was going on?

​The answer came with about a dozen stallions. Leading them was Goldwreath. They trotted close until I feared they were coming over to crowd around me. But they turned and stood at the entrance of another branch of the tunnels, one that murky and cold water flowed in on upon shallow moats.

​"Thank you for getting them to trust me. In my haste I didn't realize that wearing this praetorian helmet would earn me so much ire," Goldwreath said as they passed me by. As he neared, he spared me a glance and gesture; one I was glad to return after how glum he seemed earlier.

​"It was of no trouble," one of the zebra stallions replied to him. His was a very common accent, used by the majority of Spiderhole's... well, former residents. The accent drawled most vowels, but consonant sounds were quick and short -- the mark of the Voshiks, a large tribe that'd lived in Zebrica's badlands. At least, that's what I got from listening in on lectures given to the foals of the tribes whenever I got bored. "And seeing as they rushed to brand you a villain just like all the other praetorians, when you have done more than anyone in their lives to free them of their bonds, it would have been a crime to not aid you."

​"Plus, your voice was the only one saying what we all knew but were too scared to say: we have to move!" another stallion said. The dozen of them stopped at the edge of the tunnel, where both sections of the sewer connected. The stallion nodded into the darkness. "I've heard -- and read, so this information is somewhat reliable -- that the Roaman underground was complex. So complex the workers that maintained it needed on-site maps to navigate it, simply because memory wouldn't be effective enough to stay in familiar places. I also know that the door we all had to rush out of leads east, to Roam. We could travel underground until we find a suitable spot to rise up from."

​"It seems like a good idea. I was headed there anyway, before my travels were interrupted," Goldwreath said. Then his expression became pale and troubled. "The Legionaries were supposed to come with me... but they weren't capable after what Kabal did to them. Now Imperius wreaks havoc upon Spiderhole, with them in it... what will become of them?"

​"They'll be fine," the first stallion said. "Imperius reveres Roam and anything it represents. If the Legion claims it is Roam, then he will serve them. He would risk no harm to its soldiers if it meant he would be seen favorably. He's very selective of who he protects like that."

​"He was, and for a while we were protected, too! But now we go off to danger -- to Roam itself!" one of them protested. "I know nothing of cities, but... where in there can we grow crops? In fact, where on the surface at all can we make a living? We were safe because we were underground. My ancestors lived on mushrooms and mud-grown grain down here since the time when only the Roamans held dominion. What is there for us in that place? Nothing but irradiated, infertile land -- and more conflict! The cities must be teeming with savages. I'll not lose more sons to more pointless killing!"

​Goldwreath turned to this one: an elderly stallion with a braided mane. His features were sunken, his flesh sagging at the limbs -- but he must've been strong enough to wield the spear in his hooves. With sympathy, Goldwreath spoke.

​"Pointless killing is upon us, whether we want it or not," he said, his voice heavy. "At the time of it, deaths must seem so... pointless. So must killing. Both are natural, and ever so common in our time... and you know this better than me, surely. I am young; less than twenty-five. All we can do is try to make the deaths matter by carrying on."

​Their conversation was interrupted by a string of noise, one that bothered me as much as them. That was because a new tension had settled over the crowd; a new fear, something that grew in them as they looked into the darkness. They must have been wondering, 'Do you want us to go there?' Now their enthusiasm was replaced with hesitation. So was mine, actually... Spiderhole aside, I'd never been underground, in dark places. There might have been creatures in there, monsters... and I remembered those red lights. Oh, those red lights...

​Everything felt colder all of a sudden. I shivered and crouched, letting the cloak settle all around me.

​"Looks like we'll need to liven them up once more," one of the stallions sighed. "Starting to get scared again. Seems necessity can never conquer fear..." he grumbled.

​The crimson pegasus trotted past them and approached the people, who were already beginning to cause commotion. "That's because necessity is harsh. Reality is harsh. The people know this... and they hate it," Goldwreath replied, glancing back at me for a long moment. I met his eyes until he turned back around and looked the crowd over.

​"People!" Goldwreath called, "Look at yourselves. You're scared. You always were. Of your masters, of what they might do to you... but you had hope, too. I can see it right now. And you've always had it, haven't you? Even if it was covered by layers of hatred and pride... and misunderstanding. For long years, fear and hope have battled around you, and some of you have given yourselves over to one side -- some to fear, others to hope. It was late yesterday, at the twilight of the battle for Spiderhole, that fear was officially broken and torn down, and hope blossomed. It was yesterday that Spiderhole officially became a free state, wherein you all were allowed to live your lives as you chose. But it was yesterday, too, that hope was killed. Backstabbed.

​"Deceit poisoned our dreams. Indeed, I say our dreams because I hoped that the freedoms and lives you all deserved would finally be given to you. But it was by those we trusted that the most painful blow was struck. Free, and yet... exiled. That is what we are. All of us. Even me.

​"We sacrificed much, and it all came to nothing. Long years of enduring... and languishing... and serving the masters! That is what you have given. And me? I have sacrificed my blood and the cleanliness of my very soul by killing. We have thrown out our backs, gnashed our teeth and worked our hooves till they were naught but bone... and for what?!" At this he stared each of them in the eyes with the same confused anger that fuelled their clamouring. "Where now is our hope? Where now is our future? Tell me: where now are we to go? What is our purpose in life, when all things we do seem to come back to us like ungrateful children and kick us when we need them most?"

​With a fierce scowl, Goldwreath cried out his answer, "Our job now... is to carry on! Carry on, so that the sacrifices made by those we have lost do not go to waste. Think of your parents, who would've eked out tiny moments of respite during their labours so they would ask nothing of you when they returned home. And parents, think of your children! Think of the times that they, against your orders, went out of the house to seek ways to lighten your burden. Husbands, think of your wives; and wives, think of your husbands! Uncles and aunts, nieces and nephews -- know each other by name! We are all equals here now because we have nothing! We have no hope, only obligation to continue. That makes us family, friends, when we were not before. We are a united community, exiles as we are, and some of us are gone. We are incomplete, and that will never be fixed, never be fixed. All we have is the knowledge that they would have wanted us to live. We can give them that. We can live so that the memory of us all -- dead and alive -- never perishes."

​Goldwreath stopped. His fierceness and confidence was replaced with a very sudden gloominess. I was shocked to see the twin streaks of glistening tears that immediately began to flow down his cheeks. He took in a breath, and after a moment he turned to the faces of the people once again. Their eyes locked, between them seeming to form bridges of understanding and sorrow.

​"People... I have been a civil servant for less than a year, but civil servant I am nonetheless," he started, words said heavily. "Where I come from, my position is given the duties of peacekeeping and safeguarding order. Even if I'm not there, what I am still applies; and why shouldn't it? I'm a guard, and my duties are universal because the dignities of people are universal. Yes, I protect people... but I failed you. I have failed my duty... I have failed to live up to what is expected of me... I have failed the people of Roam. For my inability, you are now suffering as my home does: the certainty of our future is robbed from us."

​His head slumped, rolling tiredly on his shoulders. Seeing him so fragile and anguished, it... it broke my own heart. I had every part of my mind urging me to go there and maybe hug him, but... his words were hitting home. I could feel pits opening up inside of me, so cold... so heavy in their emptiness that I collapsed onto my haunches. Perhaps I would have gone over to hug him, but after being reminded of all that'd happened, all that I'd lost... is-is it selfish to say I needed to be hugged more?

​He shook his head as he stood there. "I know these words of mine make little sense, but to those who understand many words are as good as few. Bear with me... I truly did not expect any of... this." He flopped his hooves to the side in a tired shrug. He turned around and looked straight into the darkness. "I suppose... my point is that we have only there to go. All other tunnels are a dead end not one-hundred meters in. So like it or not, that tunnel -- that cold, black, smelly tunnel -- represents our future; it is all we have." He faced them once more, tightening the straps of his helmet and saddlebags and tossing a sack that clinked with the metal of his armor over his back. "I will not say don't weep, for not all tears are an evil. And I will not say don't fear, for lack of fear is foolish. But I will say this: for yourselves and for all that we are as a community, let us carry on and embrace our future, however dark it may be. Don't cling to hope if it's too painful, but don't give in to despair because it's easy. Keep instead a calm mind, and decide when the time is right what to make of the world."

​He trotted forward, sparing us a glance as his hooves splashed into the water. "Let's go. There's only stagnation and misery here."

​Everyone followed. Yes, they were frightened and hesitant, moving with murmurs and mutters... but they followed. Minutes ago they'd seemed ready for anything, glad to be moving. Then they'd given in to fear, and for a time I couldn't possibly see them going into the darkness. Without Goldwreath to unify us in our pain and loss, we would've been split apart. We were already bickering; just a few more hours of that, and we were done for. I couldn't have gone in there, not after the nightmare. And I couldn't have done it because it meant I would sever my last connection with Spiderhole. The fact that we were still close to it was all I had left of the place. But Goldwreath was right. We had no future here, not as things were. The blackness ahead was really all we had to turn to. And if he went in there, then so would I. It was our only chance. My only chance.

​As the crowd filed into the entrance and disappeared, I galloped in, sticking to the wall, keeping my eyes wide open for light as people started igniting what few torches they had. By such dim light, I was barely able to make my way to the front where Goldwreath was. He'd pulled out his eagle, which caught some torchlight and seemed to magnify it a dozen times over. I got up right behind him and fell into a monotonous, solemn marching. For an amount of time I didn't care to measure, our hooves squelched in muck, our silence weighed down on our hearts, and the darkness surrounded us. Claustrophobia squeezed at me, and it was all I could do, like everyone else, to keep quiet and look to the ground in our misery.

​But we had Goldwreath and his eagle to follow into the unknown. And that was just enough. Just... just enough.

***Roama Victrix***

​"Alright... everyone, stop."

​I collapsed. I just couldn't take it any more. There was no strength left in my legs to keep me up. They folded beneath me, sending my torso crumpling against the cold, damp concrete. Oh, they were so numb... and my lungs were on fire. B-breathe... I just... needed... to breathe...

​All around, people crumbled to the floor in exhaustion. Through eyes I could barely keep open I saw them collapsing like I had, their legs just giving out. These were people who'd been subjected to manual labor for years, and I was right along with them on the dirt. A tiny part of me gave out commendations for my stamina... but really my stamina sucked. Always had. What can I say, I never exerted myself more than necessary. Still, as I lay panting and sweating on the cold ground, I silently promised myself I'd build up on my durability just a little more for future use. If it meant avoiding more of these situations... it'd be worth it.

​A bright light approached. Goldwreath's eagle floated over to me, radiantly reflecting the torchlight to light the darkness. I looked up and saw his silhouetted face and those of the stallions behind him. Back down at me he looked, his eyes filled with pity and concern. Then he looked up and saw the same fatigue overtaking all the others. He turned to face the dozen he had at his back.

​"These are your people. Navros, Kavik... what would you have them do?" Goldwreath questioned.

​A stallion that could have been either of those names replied, "We let them rest. Six hours of marching in a tunnel with no moving air tires all." He panted there for a moment, then gave a smirk. "Except for you, I see. G-good for you, young one. There's a strength in you I haven't seen since my youth."

​Goldwreath held back a bashful smile. "Well, I just focus on breathing. I didn't know it was taking such a toll on the people until you told me." He frowned, leaning against the shaft of the eagle. "I wish they'd told me. Then maybe I wouldn't be feeling so bad about it now." His eyes drifted over to me. "There're people here I care for. Some of the only ones I know that are still alive... and I didn't even know that they couldn't go on any more."

​I could feel the apology in his eyes. I had to force myself to give him some sign that it was alright. Some facial twitch or expression that said it was okay, that my being tired was my own fault. I'm not sure if I actually managed to muster up the energy to give the sign, though. Oh, me and my non-existent exercise habits... and of course Goldwreath would be fine even after all that! He was... really... just meant for this. His body was built for it. Mine, well...

​"Don't mind it, boy. If I were you, I'd have not turned to check on them at all. And don't go saying I'm heartless. Our only hope is to keep moving, and damn well do I know a person can go on much longer than this. But that's in survival situations... oh, the distances this bunch could go if they were being stalked by wild animals."

​Goldwreath just nodded, looking around at the dim sources of torchlight. Without them, we would have been in total darkness, an opaque abyss. Only our meager torches kept that crushing black at bay.

​"We'll need to know if the path ahead is clear," Goldwreath mused aloud, stepping away from them and looking into the wall of darkness ahead of us. He stared into it for a moment, then slung the sack off his back and started strapping on his armor. Some of the nearer people threw him annoyed looks.

​"I hope you can forgive me for looking like those who robbed you of your future, but this armor may be necessary," he said, trying to calm them. He tightened the straps on his chestpiece and looked right at us. A semicircle had gathered around him and the dozen stallions, myself right in the middle of the formation. Addressing their concerns, he explained, "I shall return soon. But if I do not... well, you must decide if you go forward or back. Give me no torches; despair is barely checked as it is. Instead, see me returning only by the reflective quality of this eagle." He looked up anxiously at the golden idol, the thing he was putting much faith in.

​He took a deep breath and said finally, "I will proceed until I see no more light, then I will return." With a nervous chuckle he added, "Don't worry. If something's down there, I'll make sure to scream before it kills me. That'll warn you." Immediately I sensed his regret at saying such a thing. The idea of shadowy monsters inflicting pain upon him injected fear into our moods, not relief. Now even he seemed hesitant to push through with his plan, but with a glance over his shoulder at the darkness he steeled himself. "Er... yes. So, just, um... sta-stay here," he stammered, then breathed deep and turned, disappearing head and hoof into the tunnel. The eagle's light must've died when he was a hundred steps away, but even still it died. Now there was no seeing him at all.

​The anxiety that followed incited panic and fear. If it weren't for the calming efforts of the dozen stallions who'd taken it upon themselves to help lead these people, who knows what may have happened. Would it have reached a point where some of us would gallop into the darkness? We were in no sewer now, though on the middle of the concrete ground a thin and shallow coat of water flowed ever onward -- but not enough for glowing mushrooms to grow upon. No life was down here, no moving air. There was nothing with which to tell direction or get bearings. Anyone who left our bubble of faint light might never find it again.

​I kept away from it all. All this commotion... I couldn't escape the guilt of it. I'd helped make it possible. I'd helped aggravate these people's lives. I was lucky none of them were pointing hooves or throwing blame. I couldn't have escaped their judgement... no, not even if I crammed myself into the darkest corner and the most desolate crevice of the concrete tunnel. I did it anyway, though. I looked for a sharp, symmetrical depression in the walls, like where the teeth of some massive gear would fit if such a gear existed, and stuck myself into its corner.

​Ahh, calm... much calmer than out there. Less noise. I was little farther away from it all, but I was much more secluded, and I liked that. Secluded, but not alone; the noise I hated in direct confrontations I loved as ambience in the background -- and I liked that even more. Heh. It was actually pretty cozy in that corner... truth be told, I wouldn't have minded staying there, if I could live without food or water. And if Goldwreath would stay there with me...

​"Excuse me, miss? I'd like to ask you something," a zebra stallion said -- a cloaked figure covering up the tiny entrance into my symmetrical depression.

​So much for seclusion, I guess. I sighed and put on a smile, looking up at him. "I... I can answer, I guess. If I know what to say..."

​"You do, trust me. See, I've been with this bunch for the past hours. Trotting with them. Talking with them. By extension, I have been doing these things with you, if indirectly. As Goldwreath said: we are a community, united in our exile. But I'd like to ask... what is your relationship with him?"

​Woah. Okay, that I was not ready to answer. "Huh?"

​The stallion smirked, narrowing his gaze. "Is he your friend? I suppose you can answer that from a variety of perspectives. He could be your friend simply because he is not your enemy. He could be your friend because you know him and you like him. I've singled you out for this question because you've shown the greatest interest in him among all these others. You look to him, but not just for guidance in this desperate time. I see a deep need for comfort in your eyes every time your gaze drifts to him. And so I wondered... and my father and mother didn't teach me to go unsatisfied. I've come to voice my question, my concern, because I believe the answer is of significance. You understand? I know Goldwreath, barely, but I see him as one worth following... especially now that I've no course or direction. I've decided to ask to be his companion, and if my observations of you so far prove true, you desire the same. I've come to you to scout out our potential future together."

​I blinked, leaning back. I actually got that... and I didn't like the implications one bit. "L-look..." I started, stammering. "Don't get me wrong, it's nice that you see something common between us... I think... but I'm really not looking for a travelling companion. And I don't think Goldwreath is, either." But I really, really hoped he was. I shuddered and sucked in a breath, fidgeting with my hooves and rubbing them together. "Yes, he's my friend, but... just a temporary one. I'll go with him as far as I'll need to to find a new life, but the chances of being with him are... slim." I frowned. Really slim... unless I could break out of the agonizing pattern my life seemed to follow. Find a home, lose it, find another home... I wanted something different this time. I wanted... damn it, I wanted to find meaning and happiness. That heroic crimson stallion was the best hope I had for those, and I wanted to follow him. But would my life's pattern make it impossible?

​I really... really... really hoped not. I could take following him being made difficult. What other anguish was there for me to experience that I hadn't already? But I couldn't take it if following him were made impossible. I needed it. It was my last hope.

​The stallion just gave a single, slow, skeptical nod. "Slim, yes. But the possibility is there. It would be a shame to let it pass unfought for. I will take my chance and hope he accepts. You should do the same. A million unlikely things happen everyday, Myst. You could be lucky this time." Having said my name, leaving me wide-eyed, he smiled and turned away. "If he accepts us both, I look forward to travelling with you. And don't worry, I'll keep my distance, just the way you like it."

​"You know me? Who are you?" I asked him.

​He stopped and turned around. "Well, we've met before in Spiderhole. Sort of. I bumped into you once at the markets, and I know you by face and name because all the stallions of the knights and of the praetorians and of the hoplites know of the single mare in all our hierarchal institutions. You may not remember my name, being one of many you must've heard everyday. But I told it to you that time; I'm Delvius, and I would appreciate if you didn't tell the others a former praetorian stands among them. I am no totalitarian psychopath, and I detest all that my brothers have become. That is why I left them."

​"Oh. Wow." I looked away, cracking a sheepish smile. "S-sure. No need to say it, I guess... Delvius." I pondered for just a moment. Delvius, Delvius... oh yes. Three weeks ago. I was looking at some nice salted moss from one of the stalls, and I bumped into him. I hadn't been able to stop visualizing the occurrence for the rest of that evening -- one of the quirks of being antisocial. When interaction comes along, you play it again and again in your head, visualizing how it may have gone.

​My sheepish smile turned just a little more sincere out of a strange relief that someone else I knew came out of Spiderhole alive. "I'll keep it in mind. But really, I wouldn't hope too much. Stuff never really tends to go the way you want."

​He gave a sideways nod as he took a step back, "That's why you fight to make them happen the way you want. Hoping's just half the job. Can't count on the gods all the time, you know." He bowed his head and turned away, disappearing into the crowd.

​I was left on my own once more, but not in peace. He'd provoked my thoughts again, and I couldn't get them under. "Fight for them..." I murmured, sitting in the corner and drawing myself in tightly. "If only it were so easy..."

***Roama Victrix***

​Goldwreath's return almost an hour later was a weight off of all our shoulders. He came back smiling, brimming with an ecstatic energy that seemed to intensify the light around us. The tunnel seemed so much less dark. We gathered around him in a great, eager semicircle. Our moods were as relieved as could be, and we needed to hear what he had to say.

​But he just looked at us, and with a cryptic, satisfied smile he simply said, "In a time of terrible circumstance, a great leader once said: 'I'll find a way, or make one.' Well, friends, I've found a way." And then he turned and left again, leaving us confused. We followed him anyway.

***Roama Victrix***

​The light of our torches lit up the darkness, and my eyes went wide as my gaze was drawn upwards. The sight that came to us weakened my legs.

​Before our very hooves was a spherical chamber so vast that the walls were nothing but a distant, omnipresent haze of dark grey. All around there was only this lighter dark, except for where the walls touched the distant floor; there, dozens of pitch-black archways, tiny in appearance but perhaps only because of their distance from us, skirted the bottom of the chamber. We ourselves had emerged from one of these passages. Jutting from the sides of the bottom of our archway -- and all the other visible archways -- were two steel rails that crawled into the darkness to converge into what I imagined to be some form of central grid. Overlooking the entire chamber from the center of the area's ceiling, casting the faintest glow upon us, was an orb of pale orange light orbited by rotating rings. From this pale orb snaked even fainter cables that wound down the walls to crisscross the floor like innumberable blood vessels.

​Why... apart from the wide wasteland, I'd never seen such a huge open space. In that instant, the strangest mix of nausea and awe contended over me. I fell on my haunches, swallowing air as my eyes rolled around, absorbing the scene. I'd have curled up in embarrassment if I weren't alone in expressing such an odd bunch of emotions. I supposed the largest thing people born in Spiderhole had ever seen was Arachna's stone chamber, and even that was tiny compared to this.

​Goldwreath stepped forward and faced us, flashing a brash smile as he waved a hoof over the area. "This, people, was one of Roam's subterranean metro nexuses. Rails from a huge sector of the underground converged here, each one bearing convoys of armored vehicles for transport. And this one's still got power, even if barely. Still, imagine what could be accomplished if it could be put to use! This... this place..." He looked around again, turning in place, his eyes gazing with passionate imagination. Seeing him so uplifted made me smile. "Well, I've only really read about its kind, supercomplexes all -- and each one a marvel in its own right. As luck would have it, this one harbors our passage to Roam. See, over there..." He pointed a hoof behind him at one of the distant archways. "... that there is the passage we must take. There is a map at the center of this place, engraved on a pillar of stone. According to it, our destination is only another full day's trot off."

​He took a deep breath and gave us an affirming nod, thumping the ground with the eagle's shaft. "Soon, we will stand in Roam, and in so doing once more have say in our fates. I would have us all be empowered in the city that began the civilized world."

​Not a lot of them were paying attention to his words. Mostly they were busy scanning the place, trying to make sense of such a structure. I'd had the fortune to see things like it before, if never as grand. But for anyone born and raised in a stone cave... it really must have been such a sight. Even the group of sensible elderly zebras Goldwreath had relied on for counsel seemed dumbstruck. I could see the question in their eyes: 'How could anyone who made things such as these fall into apocalyptic ruin?' I'd asked myself the same, when I passed by old skyways or ancient aqueducts. The only answer I could ever think of that made sense was that participating in a war spared no one from consequences. Not even the powerful and affluent.

​The people stood there, caught up in there awe; others took the opportunity to rest. With most of them acting as if they hadn't even heard him, I felt the lack of response to another of Goldwreath's impassioned speeches was inappropriate. So I crept forward, slowly, and cleared my throat. "Goldwreath?"

​His brows rose and he smiled. "Yes, Myst? We've got to move, but, well..." He leaned close, and I felt his breath on my skin as he whispered, "... with this bunch looking like they've just seen the whole world for the first time, I can't imagine us moving for a while yet." With a touch of anxiety, he cleared his throat. "Which... which is good. I haven't managed to check on you since earlier today. So if you've got something to share, I'm all ears."

​Ooh, if there's one thing I was starting to really like about him, it was the effort and will he put into talking with me. Sure, he was a bit scary when he was mad -- who wasn't? -- but otherwise, he was the only other person aside from Tavish I could even think of talking my heart out to.

​"I'm fine," I said, though it wasn't quite true. The vault I'd locked all the emotions regarding Spiderhole into was shut tight, and I intended to keep it that way. At least until I felt I could really let it all out again... cause that place, at that time, in that situation... not ideal at all. "I'm keeping it together, don't worry. I've done nothing stupid. At least, I think I haven't..."

​He smiled. "I'm sure you haven't. I've never believed anyone to be stupid. We've all got brains. Some people just choose not to use them -- but to be innately foolish? I can't stand the notion of it."

​I nodded. Then I paused, finding words to voice my piqued curiosity. "Um, about Roam... do... do you really think we'd be able to have new lives there? Like... like I could actually find someplace for myself?" It was a stupid question. Of course I'd have a new life there. A whole new place to explore; a clean slate. Nobody there knew what or who I was -- it was the perfect chance to have another shot at living... assuming I could muster up the courage to actually try to live. But though the answer was obvious, I had to hear it from him. I couldn't trust my own assurances. But him... he seemed like he cared enough to be truthful.

​His smile wavered for a moment in confusion, but it came right back up. "Why, of course! And why wouldn't you be able to? Opportunity is there for those who would take it. You could do anything. See these people, Myst? If you liked, you could stay with them. Start a new community in the ruins. Or you could venture alone into the city, if you wished, though I wouldn't recommend it. You may not like crowds or groups of people, but at least you're more likely to survive with them. Or you could even-..." He stopped himself short, mouth agape. His gaze drifted over me before falling to the floor. He snickered and kicked at the ground, shaking his head.

​"What is it?" I asked.

​"Nothing, nothing," he replied quickly, lifting his eyes from the dirt to give me a nervous grin. I stared back, knowing just as much as he did that it wasn't nothing. After a few moments, he relented. "Just... just a crazy idea," he chuckled. "S-see... you don't like large crowds, but... I'm just one pony. I don't intend to stay with this bunch for too long before I go back on my mission. With Spiderhole gone, you're in search of a new place to stay... so I was thinking..." He cleared his throat, loosening the collar on his armor with a hoof. "I was thinking, you know, you could come with me. I know a place that'll have us both -- my home. It's a nice place. Has everything a person could want or need. People care for each other there... as in, truly care. You'd feel loved and wanted, as I have. There's no strangeness it has seen that's been too much for it, so... so if you want it, there's the option."

​He let out a breath, wiping his brow. "Listen, it-it's completely up to you. But really, it's stupid. After all, you'd need to... to travel with me. And I don't want to make you uncomfortable or get in the way of your... well, any plans you may have. Besides, we just met, and I imagine trust isn't easy to give out here. So, yeah... stupid idea, right?"

​I stared at him for a moment, then smiled and blushed slightly. Normally I'd have been quaking inside, trembling head to hoof -- that's what always happened when I was making a decision I wasn't sure about. But I didn't even flinch as I said, "I'd actually like that... a lot. More than you can imagine." I watched as his jaw dropped and his head jerked back.

​"R-really? You'd be willing to take my word for it? You'd be willing to, you know... travel with me? Trust me? Listen to me?"

​I nodded. "Very willing to." I was amazed at how sure I felt, how confident my words and how firm my resolve. Not once before had I felt anything like it.

​He stood petrified there for a long moment. Then he took in a shallow breath, shaking his head. "Gee, th-that's... that's really-..."

​"Alright now my boy, let's go, enough talking," the elderly zebra with the spear said, nudging Goldwreath off to the side to where the other elders were. In our distracted conversing, we'd been completely oblivious to the mass of gathering zebras and ponies -- all of them were now ready to move on again. Their eyes were expectant as they eyed us; we were all they'd been waiting for. The crimson pegasus was pushed over to the front of the crowd and made to face them, and he looked so flustered and embarrassed he couldn't think of anything to say as his eyes stared first at me, his mouth dumbly agape, before drifting over to the people.

​"I, ah... uh..." he fumbled, shifting uneasily and clearing his throat. "Yes! Yes... let's go. Sorry about that. Er... distractions." Mumbling something to himself, he slowly turned and, casting me one more glance, pointed to the tunnel we were to take, all the way on the other side of the chamber. "Onward, then. To Roam."

​We were moving on again. I trotted along gladly, feeling... light and... carefree. It wasn't quite a great happiness so much as a feeling of relief. I didn't regret saying those words, and that in my books was one good decision. The opportunity had presented itself and I... I just had to take it. Delvius was right. Hoping for something to happen was just half the job. Doing what had to be done to make it so was the other half. And I'd... I'd just done that.

​Hell, I'd already hit rock bottom. I really didn't have anything else to lose (except perhaps my life, but of what value was that?). But there was a lot to gain, and damned if I was actually going to just let it all slip.

​A minute later and we were at the chamber's center. My imagination had proven correct; there really was a central grid of rails there -- a huge network of overlapping tracks and platforms, forming all sorts of complex geometric patterns across the floor. Here the rails converged, each one occasionally cut short by some kind of gate mechanism. Wide circles were carved into the floor, further segmenting the tracks; gears and machinery were exposed by rectangular openings in the ground near each circle. Derelict metallic arms hung motionless, gathering dust. Chills ran up my spine at the sight of them. I didn't know why, but something felt really off about the metals in this place, the metals in the machinery and in the rails. Not physically -- the alloys seemed just fine in that regard. But each second I eyed the steel infrastructure, the more I felt like I wasn't welcome. The old machines seemed to be trying to talk to us, somehow.

​I couldn't exactly point out why it felt so eery down there. There wasn't anything scary. Just old machines and platforms. Sure, the place was extremely dusty -- a blanket of white particles covered the ground, so thick that every step left a clear hoof-shaped imprint. But otherwise there wasn't anything worth being creeped out over. And yet that was the mood of the crowd as we passed along. You didn't need to be good at reading people to tell that much.

​Finally, someone noticed something. "Why are there no bodies?" he asked no one in particular. "Even Spiderhole had skeletons. I don't know if people would have been affected by the radiation down here or not, but... I've wandered the wasteland for five years. No place doesn't have its share of remains."

​"We shouldn't be complaining," a mare replied. "I've gotten sick of crunching bones beneath my hooves. And each one of them seemed to make a point of telling a story. An audiotape here, a note there... it just gets too damned depressing and irritating to have every bunch of bones throw its life story at us. No disrespect to the dead, but after the first few tales most people stop giving a fuck."

​The sudden clarity of the fact astonished me. They were right. Not a single skeleton or dead body -- not even the slightest hint of damage. No cracked walls or fallen ceiling concrete, no broken columns or... or anything. Even the tracks were clean of scorch marks where steel would've ground on steel. The place was so barren it must've been out of use years before the apocalypse even occurred, but surely that wasn't the case. Surely the Roamans just... I don't know, just did a really good job of vacating the area? After all, why would anyone stop using such a facility?

​I pondered on the question. Then Goldwreath jumped up onto the nearest platform, sending a cloud dust flying everywhere, and pointed at a wide circular slab protruding from the ground nearby. "That there's the map, people. Rest assured, I've confirmed the direction we need to go, but if you need assurance feel free to take a look. But we must keep moving. We didn't bring a lot of supplies with us, and Roam's a long trot off. Best to make it quick."

​Well... a map of the place I was going to did sound interesting. I mean, I'd seen maps of it before, but each one was faded or damaged. If everything else here was pristine, then why not the map? My curiosity piqued, I trotted away from the main body of the group to take a look. I won't take more than a minute, I told myself. And even if I did, we numbered in the hundreds. For all the chamber's size, one couldn't possibly miss a crowd that big, not when they made a lot of noise.

And even if I did lose them, I thought giddily, almost squealing as I grinned, Goldwreath wouldn't leave without me. I... I think he may even like me! As in, like-like. It's obvious now that I think back on it all, but at the time the idea of someone liking me was too... fantastical, too wishful for me to ever really consider. Why, I considered myself lucky if the thought came to mind that someone viewed me as a mere friend. And at that point, Goldwreath and I were friends. But given hope, my mind had decided to toy around with the idea a bit, to give me something more to chew on.

​So yes, while I very much could've just been fooling myself with fantasies, the seed for my giddiness had to have been planted there by something. Goldwreath's demeanor had been friendly and gentle ever since he'd met me, but he was no cringing ball of stutters around anyone else. The signs had been clear since our eyes first met; I just didn't give them the proper attention. Until now. Goldwreath's proposal was the final piece of evidence my mind needed to change its subconscious. Now, more clearly than ever, I was seeing every interaction I'd had with him in our short relationship. The conclusion I came to was so delightful I squealed and did a little dance right where I stood.

​But the expression of excitement brought me back to reality. I shook my head and recomposed myself, bringing my smile down a few notches. Even still, the idea was at the front of my mind as I looked the map over, but not really paying much attention to it. I mean, it was a wonderful thing -- carved into the concrete slab were detailed and colored outlines and diagrams of the cities of Roam and Appolania, as well as the underground tunnels connecting them; on the diagram was even a marking detailing our location along those tunnels, and which one we had to take to get to where. That was all well and good, but my excitement had inadvertently set me up to be in a mood not suited for paying attention to massive amounts of boring, tiny, hard-to-read Imperial text. My scanning of the map lasted all of ten seconds before I turned away to run back to the others.

​It was quiet. Too quiet.

​"Um... hello?" I called. The place was empty. Not a single torch blazed in the distance, not a rumble through the ground from hoofsteps. I was... alone.

​My blood turned to ice and my hooves began to tremble. Very slowly, I turned to look back at the map, then back at the lifeless chamber before me. I... I couldn't have been standing there for too long, daydreaming, had I? It'd only been a minute, a few at the most! Then add ten seconds for the map, and... and I should've had time! They should've been well within sight.

​But part of me suspected. Part of me didn't believe that I'd been accurately measuring my time. Part of me knew I'd let myself get distracted for too long. And if I actually had been entranced for longer than I thought, and Goldwreath hadn't come back for me... then he either didn't know I was gone, or hadn't cared enough to make sure I was with them. My heart squeezed inside my chest, and I blinked back a pained tear. I couldn't bear the thought.

​My breath quivered. My heart pounding, I galloped desperately for the tunnel they'd been heading for. But as I went I noticed things were getting darker, darker, darker... until at last the faintly glowing orb and its equally dim web of criss-crossing power veins had their lights utterly snuffed out. I skidded to a stop, barely able to make out the outline of a metal arm hanging over a derelict rail in front of me.

​I was alone in the dark. A heavy silence blanketed the area, adding to my isolation.

​My body was soaked with nervous sweat, my eyes moist. My weak and trembling legs carried me forward for one last desperate canter. Then I stopped, and shouted into the void, "Goldwreath!"

​Nothing but echoes. With each reiteration of my plea, a faint ringing flooded into the tunnel. It was gradual at first, growing each second. I thought nothing of it until it came full force like a screech, tearing at my ears and causing such pain to my throbbing, cracked skull that I cried and fell onto the ground. I held my head in my hooves, thrashing around. Then just as quickly as it came, it left. Why, it more than just left -- it took with it my pain and the nervous heat that'd been boiling my insides. I felt... good. No physical gripe whatsoever.

​Cautiously, I sat back up. Now things were lighter again; the ground was lit with the power cables, like veins of magma running underneath the floor. They were much brighter now, glowing powerfully, but they only illuminated in straight lines going up, leaving so much of the chamber in high-contrast dark.

​I looked around anxiously, then, my rear end to the tunnel, started backing away from the chamber. That's when I heard the voices.

​"Move it, immunes!" a stallion ordered. I whirled around and caught sight of zebras; armored zebras, their metal glittering in the weak light. If I didn't know better, I'd have said they were more of Imerpius' praetorians, and if they were I'd have done best to hide. But the momentary terror was snuffed out by their obvious affiliation with the Legion; I'd spent enough time on the surface to know them when I saw them. It was hard to count their number -- eight of them, maybe? Well, that didn't matter. They were close enough that I could beg for their help.

​I cantered hastily over to meet them. "Oh, oh excuse me! I-I need help. My friends went down this way. D-did you see them by any chance?"

​They continued galloping, their line reaching both ends of the tunnel. At the spot where the tunnel met the chamber, they stopped, drew their swords, set down their shields, and entered a defensive formation. I froze, backing away from them.

​Their was a terrible moment of silence, then, "I didn't see anything," one of them said. A Legionary officer with a crested helmet came up from behind the line and stood next to one of the soldiers. He fixed me with a stare.

​I swallowed, fidgeting. "O-oh... then, maybe you could take me with you? Or help me find them? If it's not too much to ask, I mean. Please, I don't like it here..."

​But there was something... off about them. I could see them. I could hear them. But something about the way they acted made it seem like they didn't even notice me. The officer's gaze held onto me, but without particular interest. Then I had the feeling he wasn't looking at me, but at the spot where I was.

​Finally his eyes wandered over the chamber. As he did a soldier said, "But sir, I swear on the gods, I saw something. It was a shadow, but... different. Shadows can't exist right in the light, sir!"

​"Um... hello?" I interjected meekly.

​They ignored me entirely. "Well, there's naught here but rusted machinery and broken platforms. See?" He pointed a hoof forward. "Nothing's here."

​I looked back and caught my breath. Where before there'd been pristine concrete and spotless steel for the machines and rails, now there was almost nothing. The silhouettes of the platforms were jagged and cracked, nothing at all like the smooth stone I'd witnessed. The few bits of machinery that shone in the light were brown and crumbling, groaning under their own weight. This... this couldn't have been the same chamber. There was too much structural damage, too much rubble scattered about.

​"Our orders were to rendezvous with the the legion over at Marediolanon," reminded the officer, "Not chase shadows down here. Look, Nubius, we're tired and we've been seeing things. That doesn't mean they're there! Damn me if I couldn't use some coffee to banish these damned phantoms I've been seeing..."

​One of the soldiers broke his stance and looked up. "So you have been seeing things!"

​The officer sighed. "Just phantoms, Nubius. Illusions. Same as you. You all know the stories the auxiliaries tell around the fires -- how their tribes had tried to make a living in the underground, but left because of... ill omens. But that's just a bunch of shit, I say. Nothing's down here, and even if there were we've no reason to pursue it. Best we head back to the Line and trot in tunnels more... domesticated. I take it none of us like it here."

​"All for it, sir," another soldier said, his eyes darting nervously around. "These unexplored tunnels give me the creeps. You feel like you're being watched, then you shine your light, and nothing's there. The maps we've got seem wrong. The controls don't respond even if they should. The gods-damned floor's covered in all this dust that gets into my eyes and nose and makes me feel sick... I fucking hate this place. A stinking pit is what it is. A void that should be left alone. Nothing good ever happened in the dark down here."

​From the dark tunnel behind them, two red orbs lit up. I stepped back, eyes wide. Whoever these people were... if they were even there... I didn't want any part of it. I'd done nothing. Nothing! They brought it here. They were why those two lights had come. Not for me!

​I turned around and galloped as the two lights approached, dragging along with it a curtain of black. Meanwhile, the soldiers continued arguing.

​"Let's just head back, Nubius. All in favor of getting back to camp say ave."

​"Ave."

​"Ave."

​"Yeah, what they said."

​The lights were right behind them now. The officer just nodded. "Good. That's a majority, Nubius. Now come, we've much to-..."

​I averted my gaze as they vanished in the enveloping dark. Then I looked forward and caught my breath, unable to believe what I was seeing. The entire chamber... it was flashing, changing like a slideshow. Each frame painted the same chamber, but each time it was different -- yet all were building on the same thing. As I galloped, the concrete and the machinery were cleaned and repaired, bit by bit. The damaged floor steadily lost its cracks; the debris vanished, stone by stone. In each frame, the two lights were there, never in the same spot. It's dark form stood by the machines, next to the rocks, and where it went things were fixed. The sounds of hammering and groaning metal and cracking stone filled the air. The ground was littered with pieces of Legion armor that appeared and disappeared, their steel added used for the restoration of the machinery.

​I was running madly for the nearest tunnel, but each flash hampered me. One second there was nothing there. Then, flash! A platform mounted with a robot arm appeared. I circled around it. Flash! A fresh set of tracks popped onto the floor. I just barely managed to keep myself from tripping. I regained my balance, looked to my destination, and galloped for dear life!

​Flash! A dark form dotted by two red lights stood in my way.

​I gasped and broke my momentum, skidding, and turned to gallop elsewhere. But my hooves twisted into each other, and I careened into the air and crashed with a painful thud. Pain exploded in my ribs, and I curled up and whimpered. "Ouch."

​I was fighting panic, trying to breathe, when a shapeless form of darkness came over and loomed over me. Trembling, I glanced up, and saw two red lights glaring down at me.

​"Ah," a voice said -- that raspy, low voice I'd heard in my dream. "The apparition manifests. And in a path I travel often no less... interesting."

​I did what anyone would do. I screamed and ran off.

***Roama Victrix***

​In those pitch-black conditions, with my injured body and panicking insides, I wasn't even able to go two feet before the thing grabbed me and wrapped what eerily felt like hooves around my throat. I struggled, wriggling wildly.

​"Cease your struggle," the voice ordered. "You would be wise to not desire the fate of those who came before you, apparition. Physical form you have, but to the ethereal plane I'll return you if you if you test my patience. Cooperate, and you may go on as you have."

​I was trembling in its the dark grip, at a loss for words. Then I swallowed and nodded. "Okay," I squeaked out.

​Immediately the thing released my throat and turned me around, looking me right in the eyes. I managed to return the gaze for a few seconds before looking away. "So... it is you, indeed," it said slowly, looking me over. One of its shadowed appendages grabbed my cheek and forced me to face it. "Real you are. I sense living thoughts in those eyes... too sporadic and quick for distant recollections. You... you're a real pony," it concluded, and gave a little snicker. "And here I'd thought another forlorn soul had grown tired of endless slumber."

​My throat was dry. This thing hadn't killed me yet... and it was talking to me. Surely that meant something, right? "Wh-what are you?" I stammered.

​The red lights, which I was beginning to realize were its eyes, bored into me. For a moment, a pregnant silence filled the void. "What am I? Hm. A simple answer for a simple question; I am a collection of atoms. Does that satisfy you?" it questioned.

​It didn't feel like a threat, but the tone was that of someone insulted. I shook my head quickly. "N-no..."

​"Then perhaps you'd like to ask another question?" it suggested. "One that pertains to my... identity, perhaps?"

​"Who are you?" I corrected.

​"Ah, better. But a trespasser has no right to make queries of the land owner. Yet I am a fair one, and will answer if you tell me who you are -- you, who would appear to me in the darkest of dark places, and seem to possess no knowledge of such an event's gravity."

​I held back. Whoever this thing... this guy... was, I couldn't trust him. He'd appeared in my dreams and now he was here, straight out of the air. My best bet was maybe he was a unicorn. I settled on unicorn. I didn't want to imagine what else he may have been to have such strange, magical things going on around him.

Still... I was lost. I didn't know where anything was. As terrifying as the prospect was, I needed his help to get out of here. I... I needed to talk to him, interact with him... and hope for the best. Now more than ever, I needed to get over myself to do what I needed to do.

​My hesitation went on for a few more moments. He didn't rush me. As I thought up what to say, a pondering, curious clicking emanated from within his throat. He was waiting.

​"I... well, I'm Myst," I said plainly, swallowing. "And I'm... I'm a nobody. A nomad. Part-time hunter, part-time... a-anything, really. I just do what I need to survive. R-really, there's not much else to say." My body was trembling, my jaw sore as he kept up his grip on my cheeks. I risked sitting down, and thankfully he didn't seem to mind. If he was going to interrogate me, at least I could have a seat.

​"Hmm. So you say..." he drawled. His eyes bore into me for a long, long moment. Then he snorted. "That is what you think of yourself, anyway. It is what you know, and I cannot ask for more than that. Fine then. You may call me Predator. A meaningless label, really -- one that would fit you more than me, so it would seem. I don't hunt for prey; I've no need to. But if that is what I am known as by people, then so be it. Not like it matters. Names as we give to ourselves or are given to us are false identities."

​"Erm... okay?"

​"Now, Myst. Why are you down here?" he questioned. "Little tolerance do I have for uninvited travellers in the dark places of the world. But you... intrigue me. I would have my curiosity satisfied before concluding your fate." He released my jaw and turned around, and I momentarily lost sight of his glowing eyes. I massaged my cheeks as he faced me again. He sat down in the darkness. "Tell me everything; leave no detail out, attempt no deception. I shall have a full account of things, you understand? Now, out with it."

​I gulped and looked around nervously. The light from the veins were dim again, the silhouettes of the machinery and platforms familiar; I was now in the chamber as it was when I first came to it, though what all those images I'd seen were, I wasn't sure. I spotted arch-shaped blotches of total black near the base of the chamber -- the tunnels, though which one the others had gone down, I couldn't tell any more. I'd spun and turned so much I'd gotten myself lost. Now I was trapped... with this guy, this... Predator.

​"If I do, will you help me?" I asked. "I just want to get out of here," I said honestly.

​His throat emanated that curious sound again, like a wooden stick repeatedly striking a concrete wall. His expressionless eyes stared at me, studying me. Then he hummed out, "We'll see."

It's more progress than I'd make if I just sit here, I thought. Then I let loose a heavy sigh. "I guess I'll start from when I met a certain crimson pegasus not too long ago..."

​He leaned forward. His two perfectly round, expressionless eyes seemed to brighten with interest. "Do proceed," he encouraged, sounding intrigued. I thought maybe the mentioning of a pegasus was what captured his attention so; seeing Goldwreath as one was certainly one of the things that'd caught my eye.

​It was strange telling him everything. Maybe it was because he was a complete stranger, someone with no opinion or uneasy history with me, but I found myself spilling everything out. As in... everything. Every emotion, every thought, every messy train of angsty thought that I recalled from the days past. He was a good listener. No interruptions. I'd never liked the dark, and still don't, but there was something oddly reassuring and -- dare I say it? -- comforting about his presence. It was so subtle, almost as if the air around me was changing temperature ever so slowly until it was cool and relaxing. Not stuffy, not hot. I found I didn't fear expressing myself to him now. And as I talked, I felt more and more certain that some sort of connection was being established between us. An understanding of some sort... but I wasn't sure what.

​"And... now I'm here, talking to you," I finished. I stifled a laugh and looked away, embarrassed. "It's odd how much better I feel now. Not good like happy good, as Goldwreath had made me feel, but... calm."

​"It could be any number of things," Predator replied. "Perhaps it is the darkness. In its embrace, we realize how little so many things matter, and how much we hinder those that do. Darkness is unbiased; it accepts all in its realm. All find respite and comfort in the knowledge that they cannot be harmed when they cannot be seen."

​Now, I wasn't Goldwreath; I didn't have as much appreciation for that kind of philosophical rhetoric. But I did appreciate the idea behind it. Like I said, I never liked the dark. But thinking back on all my previous, youthful exploits... it was always the dark that'd saved me. Without knowing it, I'd relied on the dark to keep me safe and help me hunt and observe and listen. Maybe... maybe it was time I stopped fearing it? I could achieve so much more with an open respect and appreciation for things...

​Predator stared at me, as if reading my thoughts. That strange linking sensation I had to him strengthened, and a jolt of positive emotion ran through me. It was as if my train of thought was receiving approval from more than just my own head.

​The stare went on for who knows how long. Tiny parts of my head were pressing me into asking him for his help now; every second, Goldwreath and the others were getting away. I'd never be able to catch up with them and take up Goldwreath's offer if I delayed. But the rest of me was calm. Don't rush it, I thought to myself. I had the certainty that so long as they were down here, in these tunnels, I would find them. The shadows would help me.

​Finally, Predator stood. "You seem like an agreeable sort," he said. "Moreso than how I perceived you earlier, at least. Very well, then. I will guide you to your friends -- but perhaps with a little... detour."

​"What do you mean?"

​He looked off down a tunnel, which was, in the darkness, nothing more than an arch-shaped blotch of pitch black. "A simple matter, really. There are some things I would like to show you before you surface to your world of... discordance." He spat the word with disgust. He growled quietly, long and low, before facing me again. "There are things I believe you could understand that may assist you with future endeavors. And perhaps you will reach a greater understanding of yourself in the process."

​Something clicked inside of me. I can't explain it. The words 'understanding of myself' had me right up on my hooves, eager. It seemed stupid, what I was doing: talking with a stranger, trusting him and listening to him so soon after we met... and no doubt to most people he would've seemed frightening. But in his presence, I felt understood, not just tolerated. It was... gratifying. I hate to say it, but in comparison to his statements the reassurances and kind words of everyone I'd met and known since then felt hollow and superficial. Predator's few words and strange aura had me feeling an odd sense of understanding. Just being with him seemed to heighten my senses, and my mind felt as though a pit were being dug into it that reached the very depths of my soul... if that makes sense.

​"I... I would like to understand myself some more," I admitted. "Long years of wandering and observing haven't really told me much about myself, other than I don't seem to have what it takes to be just like other regular people. Goldwreath said I'm different, not disadvantaged... but it's kind of hard to believe."

​"Your friend is wise, soupy collection of coalescing thoughts and aspects as he is. But what I would like to show you is something at your core, Myst, not a trivial revelation regarding temporary things. I would have you see something integral to who and what you are. Know it, and never again will you need to doubt the nature of your being."

​ I smiled, nodding vigorously. "I... I would be honored."

​"Good. Now, do follow me. What lies ahead will be much for you to process... perhaps it will leave you confused." As he said it, he looked me over, as if only now pondering how capable I would be of understanding what he wanted to show me. His doubt rubbed off on me, and mine on him. The link between us felt muddled with uncertainty.

​Then he met my eyes again, and his glowing eyes brightened. "But risk would have itself taken, and so we will try," he said, turning and moving on down the tunnel. I followed. Things hadn't gotten any brighter, but somehow I had no trouble seeing in the dark.

***Roama Victrix***

​Five minutes down the tunnel and the chamber vanished. Part of me panicked, asking the rational questions I'd sidelined in the face of Predator's odd aura. What if you're heading into trouble? What if you're mistaken for trusting him? What if there's nothing special about him at all, and that you're just gullible? I doubted. So much so that hooves fidgeted and twitched even as I trotted.

Stop that, I told myself. Some of me doubted, sure, but other parts of me knew it was alright. They knew I would be fine. I would be with the others again. I needed this detour; a primal urge roared within me, crying out for this trip as if it were a long-neglected necessity. In obliging it, I would put myself at peace. The uncertainty of years of wandering would slowly melt away...

​Predator led me further and further down the empty tunnel. From behind, far enough from me that I could easily compare his dark form to the shadows, he seemed like a formless cloud of utter black -- a constantly morphing mass that was difficult to look at. If I held my gaze steady for a bit, his form seemed to coalesce into something vaguely equine-shaped, something dancing with wispy tendrils of smoke -- and wow, what a big equine he must've been! He must've been even bigger than Goldwreath. Yet, if I glanced so much as an inch elsewhere his form scattered, once again becoming indistinguishable from the abyssal dark that surrounded us. My eyes were having trouble processing something so nonsensical, so impossible. And yet I kept trying. Normally I'd have given up trying to understand something I couldn't observe, seeing as observation was all I had most of the time. But he kept my attention.

​Before long he spoke up, "You're trying to figure out what I look like, aren't you? You couldn't be more obvious."

​I blushed. "You keep changing. It's hard to see what you're like. I'm curious," I admitted.

​"Your being down here was evidence enough. Yet no amount of curiosity will peel away my shroud. Observe all you want, but success will not grace you. Yet."

​I frowned. "So even you don't like me staring. Figures..."

​"You misunderstand, as your kind always does," he said. "But I know. Staring is part of your nature, or at least the nature you've come to believe to be synonymous to 'personality'. I don't seek solace from your habits, nor am I trying evoke your disappointment. But you are of the world above -- your senses, your perceptions, even your thoughts, are all influenced by its norms and constraints, and that is why will not see me. I am shaped by a different set of standards, veiled by a curtain of unfamiliarity; my whole being, so different from yours. We are apart in so many ways. But I have a body and you have a body, and for your kind, on this plane, that is enough. Perhaps not enough to understand me straight away... but enough for you to try and perhaps succeed."

​I'd gotten lots of practice at dealing with insults thinly veiled by big words and that sort of stuff. I'd dealt with Imperius tons of times. His praetorians, too. But this was different. Oh sure, some words and ideas were the same -- 'your kind'; 'you're different from me' -- but coming from Predator, none of it felt like an insult. He stated them matter-of-factly. They were just realities, and he would treat them as such.

​I kept my silence. Insult or no, that stuff he said had left me wondering... and confused. Was this the warmup for his 'lessons'? He'd said the stuff he'd show me would be boggling, maybe even leave me clueless, but if I had no idea what to make of a simple bit of speech, I couldn't have much hope for the actual material.

​After a while the silence became unbearable -- and coming from an antisocial mare, that means something. I liked noise. Really. But only when it was background ambiance, not directed at me.

I spoke up, and my voice resonated through the depths, "You know, I've... never been down here before. In the Roaman underground, I mean. What is it, exactly?"

"So that's how you want to start yourself off? Talking history, and of such a place as this? Fine then," he murmured. Clearly the words weren't meant to be heard. To anyone else, they would've just been rhythmic humming. But my ears caught onto them.

Aside from that, ​I didn't expect an actual response, but Predator indulged me anyway.

​"Well... the answer aligns itself with simplicity," he said. "The Roaman underground is... everything beneath the Roaman empire. Literally. The wartime government? They had claims on every natural resource underneath the dirt that their nation encompassed. This claim was crucial. You know of the Great War, do you not? Tales of its origins and causes were spoken to you?"

​"Yes," I replied.

​"Well then, you know how much coal the empire had, and how desperately the Equestrians wanted it. Before the war, the Imperial coal reserves were a means of leverage over Equestria, and during the war, it powered Roaman industries. These tunnels you see here -- the great underground stations, the long rail networks, the hubs? -- all these were originally built to effectively extract the seemingly endless supply of coal Roam had at her disposal. Of course, such a massive and thorough subterranean system of transportation soon found use in the Roaman military. The very largest of the tunnels, the first tunnels, now devoid of coal deposits, were converted into these tracks you see now. But they were always attached to the countless smaller tunnels branching out from them: the ones connected to more isolated deposits. You may not see them, but laying at your hooves and along the walls and ceiling are many tiny doorways to these other tunnels. Back when it was in use, the underground's military and industrial halves were so intertwined, so inseparable, each day was literally divided between them. Of course the military got free reign whenever there was an emergency, but usage of these tunnels was equal otherwise. Some say that half of the Roaman population was employed by the coal industry alone, and I don't disagree.

​"But these days, the underground is used by no one," he continued. "Not officially, anyway. Bands of wastelanders, usually, and even then only for a day or two. No one intrudes in the empire's earthly bones without my knowing... and my intervention." He glanced back at me. "You, Myst, were an intruder, and that is why I sought you. I knew of your friends, too, but left them be because I knew they were on their way out. You were trapped, unsure of which way to go. All the more reason for me to approach you."

​"Right..." I muttered. "And, uh... thanks for finding me, I guess," I added uncertainly. For sure, I'd have been totally lost underground if not for him. But his words left me with a few disturbing questions. He 'intervened' on intruders? How did that work? Did he see them in their dreams, like he had with me? And again, how did that work? I shouldn't have thought so hard on it all -- the world was littered with magic, and the guy obviously had access to some of it. But somehow I felt that something deeper was at wok than a bunch of spells or glyphs. And also, looking at Predator, a niggling little suspicion was working its way around my head. Something about him, what he was...

​Another thing struck me, though, that I felt didn't quite make sense -- of course it all didn't quite make sense, but this one thought challenged what I thought I already knew. "You said the underground isn't officially used by anyone, right? How about the Legion? Those soldiers you... erm, attacked... they seemed to imply otherwise."

​He stopped abruptly, then looked back at me. His motionless eyes seemed somehow confused. "Soldiers?" he asked. "What soldiers?"

​I was at a loss for words. It was him in that 'vision' of mine, right? "Those... those Legionaries? The eight of them?" His red eyes stared on, his voice silent. His confusion was spilling over from his own mind and flooding our little empathic link. Somehow I felt like I'd been wrong to assume that it was Predator I'd seen, and that even if it were him, that he'd remember such a specific group. If he 'intervened' on intruders as often as he said, he surely wouldn't bother to remember the details of every single group.

"Hmm. Legionaries... eight of them..." He mused for a long while. "But there were none here... oh." He looked up, his eyes flashing with understanding. "Oh, I see! That encounter of mine a few months ago." He looked around at the tunnel, as if inspecting it. "It seems you've gotten a glimpse at my past exploits. How... convenient. That barely ever happens to anyone down here."

​I let out a little sigh of relief, glad that it was Predator I'd seen. Er, but not glad for seeing that it was him who killed a bunch of soldiers, of course! No, that was terrible and all, and seeing him as a homicidal murderer definitely didn't improve my murky opinion of the guy. But if I had to put up with the idea that there were more Predator-like guys down there...

​"But it does happen?" I asked, and he nodded. "What is 'it'? Was it a vision, or... or what?"

​"A vision would be the closest thing, yes," he answered. He waved a hoof at the tunnel. "During the war, the Roaman underground was also where all the secretive things took place. Some of it ethically questionable, some of it morally sound, but all of it dangerous. Experimental projects. Unstable energies. Those sorts of things. They had their own level and tunnel systems and everything, all in an attempt to keep what they did inside."

He snickered. "Ah, but such things can rarely be kept contained. The precautions failed. And as you most likely know, balefire radiation has magical attributes of its own. The underground couldn't be sealed off in time. Not everywhere. And so, when radiation leaked in -- interacting with aerial agents that were on their own harmless, contaminating and fusing with experimental substances and waste -- things got very volatile very quickly. Walking around here was like trudging through a magical maelstrom. Countless phenomena started cropping up, visions the least troublesome of them. I don't bother trying to learn how the phenomena still occur, though. My best guess would be that residual energies cling to the air in some places, moving along with the drafts, regaining some of their past potency. But I don't speculate further."

​His eyes flared with red light. He shifted, turning to face me. "Be grateful for the passage of time, Myst. It has allowed your very presence here. The people sealed off here before? Chance did not favor them. Suffering visited them in bouts without mercy, and their bones morphed to dust under the ceaseless assault of deathly agents. Quite painful. Quite tragic. But such is the result of war."

​I swallowed. Suddenly that stallion's bewilderment at the lack of bodies made sense. All the dust I'd seen... it's not that there weren't ever any bodies here. They had all dissolved long ago. I didn't want to visualize how many skeletons we'd have encountered otherwise, nor did I want to imagine what it would have been like down here back then. Suffering from radiation poisoning, unable to escape... ragtag groups like the one Goldwreath was leading must've been a lot more common... a lot more desperate, too. Lost. Dying. Suddenly my own situation didn't seem so terrible.

​But at least I now knew what Predator was. Well, sort of. My suspicions were all pointing towards the same conclusion. He spoke of the aftermath of the war as if he were actually there -- perhaps unconsciously, since his kind tended to do that, being old enough to have actually experienced it all. He was obviously what my tribe would have called a 'nekró átomo' -- literally 'dead person'. The title for Predator's kind varied from culture to culture. To the Imperial-speaking Roamans, he would've been called a 'mortuus'. But most people would've just called him a ghoul. Ghouls were unnaturally long-lived, their bodies changed by exposure to radiation and other ghastly things. But I didn't fear them. Some of the kinder people in my tribe had been ghouls, and ghoul merchants were the fairest I'd ever countered in the wasteland. It wouldn't have been right to avoid them just because of their looks. They were people, same as anyone else. Same as me.

​Predator looked down the length of the tunnel and snorted. "All of that was long ago, of course. The underground has long since been broken into in countless locations. The heavy doors that shielded this place from the apocalypse have been blasted open, corroded, tunneled under, and yanked away. The decades-long isolation of the darkest part of the Roaman empire was shattered, and by then the old mysteries -- the projects, the prototype technologies -- faded into oblivion, their power supply cut and the corrosive air eating them away. Change labored to expose this place to the world, and dilution has rendered the underground's hazards inert. Surviving down here became a... possibility. In some places it's common. The Legionaries you told me about, if my own memory recalls right, mentioned something about 'domesticated tunnels'? They have refurbished the old Augustus Line to serve their needs. But that's about it. the Legion's arrogance truly knows no bounds if they believe they can tame the entirety of this place. All who dwell down here live on the goodwill of the tunnels."

I took a single step back. "You're... talking about this place as if it has personality," I said warily. "I'm, uh... not sure what to make of that."

​He shrugged. "Most people would find it ridiculous, yes. As they would a large number of things. I've seen people scoff at forgiving, laugh at faith, insult bravery, and diminish sacrifice. Admirable things, all those, in the right doses. But it's strange that civilizations built upon such values would hold prejudice against them."

​"So why do you do it?" I asked, and clarified, "Talk to the tunnels as if they're alive, I mean. Those things you mentioned people being prejudiced over -- those I could understand being ridiculous. But that? It's... kinda creepy."

​"Oh, I suppose you could say that they are alive... in a sense. Tell me, do you believe in ghosts?"

​I froze. "Ghosts? Like... spirits of the dead?" I looked around crazily, turning in place. Suddenly I felt a whole lot less comfortable. "Are there any down here?"

​"I'll take that as a yes," he responded. "And yes, there are some down here. Really, they are everywhere. But spirits of the dead? Not quite, not quite."

​"You... you've taken me into a haunted tunnel?!" I whirled on him, feeling crazed and paranoid. The temperature had mysteriously dropped low enough for me to see my breath. "W-why? Why would you do that? I've been scared of ghosts my whole life!"

​Back when I was a filly, wandering around with that tribe, I'd been under the care of superstitious foster parents. They'd made it clear to me that all things harbored spirits, and whether or not those spirits were good or evil was difficult to tell. Worse was that the majority of the tribe held the same beliefs. Every night we'd gather at a campfire and spend time just to tell ghost stories. We'd pray to the stars to watch us, to keep the evil things away. I hated every moment of it all.

​No. Contrary to what Predator took out of my reaction, I didn't believe in ghosts. Not really. At least... I didn't want to. But after years of noises in the wind, of presences that kept me awake entire nights, of quiet footsteps that followed me in my lonely wanderings... after countless nightmares that woke me up to chilly air where no wind could go, and after so many instances of seeing shadows that disappeared only in the sunlight... I'd learned to fear the chance that they were real.

​"A fear misplaced, then," he said. "There's a thing you'll need to learn from me that contradicts your current notions of ghosts. Ghosts aren't to be feared. A common mistake. They're to be understood -- only then will we penetrate the veils of ignorance that so heavily lay themselves on people's minds."

'Not to be feared,' he said. 'A common mistake,' he said. Well, he could say whatever he wanted, but ​I was gasping and having a panic attack. My heart raced. The tunnel seemed so much wider now, the walls farther off -- I felt alone. An island of life in the middle of a dead, dark ocean. Fog crawled forward from the dark, covering the floor in a subtle layer of mist. In my mind, I heard whispering, laughing, screaming -- all of them distant, like echoes from deeper in the underground. Shadowy shapes appeared and disappeared all around me, or maybe it was just my imagination. I sat down and shut my eyes, determined to not open them for anything.

​"Hmm." Predator mumbled. "Clearly you don't take me seriously. But you will, in time. Still, I can try to make your belief start now. How? Well, let's see..."

​He moved around. I followed him with my ears, trying to focus only on him. He was the only thing I was hearing that didn't make my bones want to crawl out of my skin.

​"Ah, yes. You rely on observation to reach conclusions. Perhaps a more... perceptible experience is in order. Lectures aren't for you, it seems. Now Myst, come here, and put your ears against the wall."

​I didn't want to. Oh, I really didn't want to. But what choice did I have? I stood. I tried to keep my trembling to a minimum as I turned in place and inched forward. Cold gusts blew at me, carrying whispers and laughter that echoed in my ears. The world seemed to be quaking gently, like I was standing on a rocking platform. The chilly fog around my hooves seemed to be rising up, prodding me with wispy tendrils. I whimpered, but Predator took one of my hooves and led me along.

​"Good, good..." His tone was amused. Maybe he was smiling at how silly I looked, skidding along the cold floor as my hooves refused to speed me along. "I understand this is all very strange to you. It would be to anyone, I think. Trotting underground with a stranger, signing up for some set of lessons you know nothing about. But you do feel something, don't you? A kind of longing? Like a gravitation towards these strange things, an urge to listen to my odd words?"

​I swallowed as he dragged me along, hearing the noises in my ears. "Yes," I admitted simply. I didn't want to say much. The thought came to me that I was in a very volatile situation, and even the tiniest disturbance on my part could make things go wrong in any number of ways.

​"And you find this even stranger," he continued, "because you've kept to yourself most of your life, yes? You wonder how you could avoid so many people, but so quickly open up to me. A stranger. Your mind asks questions. Your instincts tell you to be careful. You think you're making a mistake. Even now, as you always have, you doubt yourself. And yet you feel an overriding desire to go on with this detour."

​I didn't know how he knew so much about me. I didn't want to ask. Maybe it was just really obvious, what with the way I'd always behaved. But I was wondering what his point was. "You already know the answers to those. Why keep asking?"

​"Just making sure," he said. "You'd be surprised how fickle even the most resolute of wills can become in the presence of the mysterious. Steel is hard when things are cool, but soft when the temperature rises. Courage is no different, really. Ah, and here's a good spot."

​Finally he let go, and with my hoof I felt in front of me. Cold stone greeted my senses.

​"Just listen to it," he encouraged. "You'll be fine."

​I was trembling uncontrollably, my body shaking from the cold and the fear. Carefully, I tilted my head, and planted my ears against the rock.

​For a terrible moment, there was only more noise -- louder, more intense noise. The voices of the phantoms sounded straight into my ears, and I swear I could almost feel their cold breath on my skin. I wanted to yank myself away and run. I wanted to blindly stumble until I felt Predator in my hooves, and then wrap my hooves around him and beg him to make it all go away. I could feel my heart racing, burning within me with the deepest of dreads. My mind felt like it was going to split itself apart.

​Then all the noise faded into the background. The quaking receded into tiny vibrations tingling at my hooves and at my cheek. Then they both faded entirely. All around me, the world seemed to fall away, like a wave of anxiety fading after a relieving assurance. A serene lightness befell my entire being. Seemingly random emotions and thoughts ran through my mind, spiraling together in a senseless mix. But all seemed good.

Then my senses perceived a simple rhythm, like drums beating softly and monotonously in an empty room: Thump-thump... Thump-thump... Thump thump.

​It wasn't a loud noise. Not even scary. It felt like I was listening to my own heartbeat.

​"Is... is that my heart I'm hearing?" I asked quietly.

​"No. Not your heart. But it is the sound of life. The sound of creation."

​"What?"

​I dared to open an eye, squinting with it as I gazed around, looking for him. His two red eyes stuck out of the black, peering over the area. I felt forces rocking me back and forth, like waves of water pushing against my chest, coming in pulses that coincided with the gentle but inexorable thumping. It was rhythmic and gentle. Its monotony seemed so unbreakable, so peaceful. I calmed down. I pulled myself from the wall.

​"I... I only see darkness," I said quietly.

​"Yes, Myst. You only see darkness," he replied. He sounded... happy? "Look before you, and see... darkness. It's glorious."

​I took a step forward. It felt like a dream. There was no noise of my hoof on the floor. I didn't even feel like I was stepping on stone so much as just... like, gravitating in a direction. Things felt off. Then I realized I wasn't even breathing. I lifted my hooves up and placed them against the light of Predator's eyes. Nothing. I had no body to speak of.

​I gasped, but it felt superficial, unnecessary and of no consequence. "What is this?"

​Predator looked right at me. "You wondered what ghosts are, and I said I'd show you. Well, here is your answer."

​I looked around. "Darkness?" I asked.

"Hmm. Well, to restrict what I'm about to say to the scope of ghosts would be to limit something profound. What you see before you are ghosts... and everything else, as well. Let me explain... but first, Myst, tell me: do you believe in religions? Or more specifically, in their creation stories?"

I grimaced -- well, felt myself grimace; I couldn't say for sure in that place. Then I shook my head. Matters of faith and religion weren't something I liked to talk about. You can thank my 'parents' for that. "No. I never had good reason to... but lots of reasons not to."

He nodded. "All well and the same. It's not like those beliefs would vanish because of your disbelief. No, they're sustained enough by others... in any case, your lack of faith leaves you open to what I'm about to say."

A ball of dark energy rippled in front of me, distinguishable from its surroundings only because of the lighter shades that scintillated around it. It hovered close to Predator's eyes, and then he approached me. I stared into the odd rippling ball, and had the strangest of all sensations. There's no single way to describe it. I was being pulled to it, but also pushed from it. It radiated heat, but also cold. I felt alive near it, but also so sluggish, so... dead. The thing thrummed with an overwhelming but gentle power that matched the rhythm and pulse of this weird place... maybe it was even the source of it.

"You should keep an open mind if you are to comprehend what I am about to tell you, for my upcoming words are the only thing you'll be able to believe no matter your circumstances," he said, looking down into the ball. I found myself staring into it too, inexplicably focused on it and all he had to say. My entire being felt attracted to it like metal to a magnet.

"See, there are only three things that exist, Myst. Lots of theories and stories and other such things will tell you otherwise, but I've come to these conclusions through my own... sources. These three things, they are the bedrock of creation without which nothing could be. And they are Matter, Time, and Energy. Their endless array of simple but innumerable interactions makes possible every concept and object. They dance with each other, and they will continue to do so for all of eternity. They are the underpinnings of creation, the three true and insurmountable Fundamentals."

The ball trembled, and suddenly it was a rock -- a plain, floating rock. "All the things you see and don't see, the intangible and tangible... even the physical and metaphysical? All these are just the product of the interaction between Matter and Energy, and made possible by Time. Thought and reason are so far along these sequences they would seem to transcend what is naturally possible. From this ancient mystery came the question, 'How did life begin?' And while living beings like to think of themselves as apart from the rest of creation, privileged and uniquely important, the truth is that we are simply a concoction of different proportions. We're more alike to everything else than we'd like to believe. You and this rock, Myst? The only difference between you two are your compositions and patterns. But if I were to grind you both down to the very tiniest particles, reduce you both to the simplest energies, you'd be indistinguishable. We're all just pixels on an image, and only a fleeting difference in color keeps us apart.

"Ah, and pixels..." He took a deep breath. "You know what they are, don't you?"

I nodded. "Some people are surprised I know so much about stuff that doesn't matter to survival... but that's what happens when you spend most of your time alone. You learn stuff... wanted or otherwise."

"Good. Because pixels, well... of all the things creation's spawn have thought of, nothing comes closer to the Fundamentals than the humble pixel. These orbs you see are essentially just that. Pixels. Nothing more than a blank canvas upon which color can be applied. And yet look at what they've allowed into existence: a reality so complex and varied it can even contradict itself. Galaxies bound by gravity, wars fought over principles of greed and fear, identities formed out of a desire to form ourselves... every bit of it, literally, is made by these things, these... orbs of possibility. It is these that start the very first reactions that make life possible. It is these that are the cells of cells, the atoms of atoms. It is these that you will see if you could travel backwards to before the birth of the universe. Masses of peaceful primordial pixels just waiting to be given an image to form... in a sense, you could say that they, the manifestations of the interactions of the Fundamentals, are the true creators. They very well could have formed themselves into images of gods, and being irreducible and indestructible, they have thrived in their endeavors. All of reality bends to their will, and all it would take for them to wipe out all our consciousness, all our history and struggles and thoughts, if they so chose to do, would be to change color."

At that point I was straining myself to not cry out in protest. He did tell me to keep an open mind, and I really, really was. But all that just sounded like nonsense to my mind. I mean, him being a ghoul, I could understand his understanding of the war. But this? I didn't know much about science, but I'm pretty sure the universe was at least several thousand years old.

He stared at me, maybe knowing my doubt, and chuckled. The pitch-black dark that'd enveloped us melted away like a receding wave, revealing a... oh. Oh wow, how to describe it? What comes close? Well... try putting yourself in a cube-shaped room. There's nothing inside; no embellishments or furniture. Now make every side of that cube a mirror -- no, innumerable mirrors, like each mirror wall were made of millions of tinier mirrors, each reflecting on the others and creating a truly infinite image. Wherever you look, however you look at it... all you'll see is a deep pattern of tiny cubes. Tiny, scintillating cubes of inexorable potential, all thrumming and pulsing with their own sheer power. And the longer you stare, the more certain you become that you don't even fully occupy a single one of them. In their limitlessness, you are nothing.

Instantly all my doubt and disbelief vanished. Inside me, my soul was screaming, 'This is it! I'm home. This is where I belong. This is what I am.' And there could be no denying it. Absolutely no denying it. This was the answer to... to everything. To life. To evil. To good... this was the final ultimatum.

Only Predator broke the otherwise perfectly symmetrical image. "In a way, though, we're all gods. We're all omnipotent, omniscient, omnipresent... or at least we could be, had we not amnesia. For if we are all nothing but masses of these fundamental particles, then all it would take to put ourselves at true and eternal peace with existence would be to remember what we are. The universe you know of, Myst, it is... unique. In a bad way. The realities that came before were all whole. Beautiful and perfect... in their own way. All things were as they should have been, not like in this one. I have given you a blessing so few receive: the knowledge of your own being. But the others are not so lucky. They have taken upon forms that they can't even control. They become aspects of different things, merging with one another, creating hybrids -- and in so doing, they forget their true nature. We are the pixels of Dark; it is our rightful place in the great pantheon of concepts and properties. Thus we can say 'we are Dark.' But you, Myst, and your fellow hybrids? What can you say you are? Even with this new knowledge, your best answer would be 'we are pixels'. Yes, but of what? What were you before you lost your memory? What were you before you became the chemical substances that would give you skin, and hair, and organs? You don't know, and because you don't know, you and all your kind are jagged patterns in the symmetry of creation. And until we sort you all out, all of existence is at a standstill."

"How did this happen?" we asked. The pixels that made up the being Myst were unified in this one resolve, having been uplifted by this revelation: they wanted to heal this sickness, and make sure it would never happen again. "What disobedient collective caused this catastrophe?"

"Ah, haha. That question," he chuckled mirthlessly. "Well... blaming Chaos would be easy, and many have done so. But we don't think the true blame lies with it. Odd times they are indeed when you can't even attribute circumstance to the force of total randomness and chance. After all, what is more chaotic than Chaos? Is there such a thing? No. Certainly not. In this troubled reality, Chaos is actually one of the few abstracts that functions as it had before. The same can't be said of Order."

He shook his head and sighed, his breath echoing endlessly down the infinite cubicles of pixels. "In truth, we don't know what has caused this distorted reality. Usually all things are balanced. There are primal, ancient laws that restrict any form of Discordance... and yet it has realized itself. Countless times now we have asked ourselves if this is not merely another version of existence, and, if so, when things might revert back to their natural state. That is our best hope -- our only hope. Otherwise, we may be forced to accept that the great symmetry, the very dance of the Fundamentals, the forefathers of creation... is flawed. And that we, their children, are doomed to repeat a broken pattern."

"That's... that's all that can be done?" we asked incredulously. "Just wait and hope that this is how things are supposed to be? That's... that's stupid!"

"And yet it's what your worldly manifestation has done all its life," he countered. "You are new in your realization of the Fundamental plane, and of the three Fundamentals, and of the architecture of your existence. I wouldn't expect you to understand what truly can or can't be done. Not just yet. But we don't mean to say nothing can be done... no, not at all."

"Well, then what are you trying to say?" we questioned.

Predator's dark body and glowing eyes melted into pixels and melded seamlessly into the scene. As one, the entire collective of Dark said, "It is impossible to combat Discordance on this Fundamental plane. Somehow they have cut themselves off from the underlying fabric of existence. We cannot fight them here. For now, we can do only one thing. We must remain Dark. It is what we are. The only way to combat them is to maintain ourselves. But you, child of Discordance, who we hope have been turned away from it... you can do more. Until we find another like you, you must do more. You must deconstruct it, down to its last aspects and pixels. But it is only when you learn to use your new knowledge that you can even begin to understand how to fight this counterproductive abstract. And the only way to do that? Live. Involve yourself in mortal life... and all it brings with it. Your planet, in your star system, in your galaxy... it is a very tiny place, beset even by the issues of the slightly more enlightened beings you've taken to calling Stars. Even now they inject themselves into your world in a great number of ways. Did you not feel them? An alien presence, sometimes cold, sometimes warm, but always distant? Did you not look upon a familiar face, or a clear sky, and feel it was... different?"

The endless corridors of cubes trembled, a deep groaning sound echoing into the void. "We weep for them. They are closer to remembering who they are than any other form of life, for they are of purer essence -- of narrower but sharper being -- than even the most enlightened mortal. They can feel a greatness upon them, an all-encompassing sensation of meaning and purpose. They sense their home is all around... and yet all their closeness to the Fundament does is drive them insane. It makes them restless, forever seeking out what is so blatantly in front of them as though it were a shore on a distant horizon. Ah... what we would give to offer them that last nudge, that little push. Perhaps the state of things would be better... but it is not our place to do so, not our place to judge. We are not Foresight. We cannot predict the outcome of such an intervention. We may invoke more Discordance than we would fix."

A silence fell upon us, so absolute we may as well have gone deaf. The collective of Dark let loose a unified sigh. "Still... capricious Fortune seems to have blessed us. Your insignificant hunk of rock is the perfect experiment. It has successfully integrated a vast array of problematic variables without reducing itself to useless rubble. And it is because of this that we feel that, if your world's problems could be solved... then therein would be the key to rectifying the universe as a whole. It is an unsure theory, but it is the best we can put forward at this moment of time."

We were unsatisfied with that answer. We had hoped Dark would be more immediately helpful, more full of reassurance. But we understood what it was saying... we had existed in that universe, the broken realm of Discordance. We remembered how we were hated, looked down upon... we remembered emotions of rejection, and... inadequacy. Worthlessness. Yes, we knew just how terrible it was. And because of that, we could survive in it.

The collective mass of Dark began to... well, darken. "Well, there is one more thing that we can do," they said. "We have brought you here. Alone, you wouldn't know how to return. So we must send you back, and we will accompany you for as long as we can down the tunnels. Brace yourself, for the tranquility of this plane will contrast sharply with the pain of that world. It will be most disorienting for you."

The blackness enveloped us once more, and we were thrust down an abyss that penetrated all walls of logic and reason. We felt ourselves passing through dimensions of heat and cold, places of pain and joy. It was as if we were touring through all the sensations one could possibly feel. But before we knew it... before I knew it, I was back in Roam again, lying facedown on the cold stone.

***Roama Victrix***

The first thing I noticed: lightbulbs. Lots and lots of blinding lightbulbs, all of them lining the center of a tunnel's ceiling. And the next thing I noticed was the soreness of my back. I could explain the second thing easily. Someone was dragging me along.

I twisted with a yawn, groggy and stiff. But I suppose I could've been worse.

"Awake? Good." And with those words the firm grip on the hood of my vest loosened, and I thudded painfully onto the floor. The flimsy cloth bandages covering my head were of little help at mitigating the impact, and sharp pain arced through my skull. "I took it upon myself to lead you out of here, not drag you."

I moaned and rolled onto my stomach, wincing and blinking back tears. Then I looked up. Standing pitch-black against the bright luminescence of the bulbs was Predator, his glowing eyes the only feature I could distinguish. But for the first time, I saw him clearly in the shape of a pony; no more cloudy shroud. I rubbed my temples and slowly got up.

"Predator? Where... where are we? And... how did we get here?"

"Still in Roam's underground, on the way to intercept your friends," he answered. "As for how? Well, I dragged you here. For some reason you collapsed about three miles down that way." He pointed behind us at what appeared to be an infinite length of lit tunnel. No matter how far back I looked, it was the same. A few hours could easily pass trotting in such a place.

"I... really?" I shook my head. "I... I don't remember that."

"Yes... of course," he replied sarcastically. "Well, then what do you remember? Perhaps your dreams? You were talking a lot in your sleep. Said some rather spicy things about a... certain stallion." He chuckled.

My cheeks blazed in an instant. I looked away and cursed. "Sh-shut up. Not my fault I talk in my sleep. And you shouldn't have paid me any attention! I... I'm so humiliated." I sat down and hugged myself, trying to hide the rampaging heat that wouldn't seem to fade from my face. I couldn't tell if he was just messing with me or not. I hadn't hinted at any attraction to Goldwreath, had I? Or maybe he just picked up on it from the way I spoke. I always reminded myself that, good as I was at noticing the little things, there would always be people better at it than I was.

"I tried not to, believe me. But some of them just demanded attention," he replied. He sat down next to me, leaning back against the wall. The silence that ensued was nerve-wracking. "So, what do you remember?" he asked again.

I thought back. I tried to remember anything I could, but things were fuzzy. My concussion didn't help. But out of the blurry soup that was my mind's visualization of memories, I made out a... a corridor. And lots of squares. And... a dark place. A really, really dark place.

Those few thoughts did it. Like an avalanche, the entire memory of that place, that... that dimension of pixels, came crashing into to me. I remembered the feeling of being just a mass of particles and energy, of being the result of a complex array of reactions. I remembered... I remembered truly being myself.

Slowly, I turned to Predator. With the realization of myself, with the knowledge of my being finally entering my consciousness, everything seemed so clear, so crisp. And as if confirming my newfound being, the universe had blessed me with a clear and unrestricted view of Predator's physical form. He was indeed a pony -- or perhaps a zebra. A very large one, either way. Massive, actually: almost the size of a young manticore! Encasing his body was a suit of armor that could've only added to his bulk; it was a black mesh suit studded with huge plates of metal alloys at the chest, joints, and legs, and which gave his presence such weight I had no doubt he could crush a person just by putting a hoof down. A veritable chassis of a chestpiece, with a huge neckguard, blurred any clear separation between his body and head, and the latter was shielded by a worn helmet. His glass visor was cracked, diffracting the lights of his eyes to look like veins of lava.

He tilted his head. "I take it there's something immensely interesting about my face?"

"I... I remember. And I can see you..." I murmured. "I remember now what I was about. You told me."

He drew back slightly. "Mm, yes... perhaps I should have just let you sleep. You don't seem very clearheaded right now."

"No, I remember!" I stood up. "You, you're just... darkness. And everything around us, even me, are just... well, your analogy called them pixels! All life, every dimension and plane... they're just the products of multi-generational interactions between those little building blocks. You told me this! You did! You said that this universe is broken, a perverted version of a perfect could-have-been. You told me that the only way to fix it was to keep on living. Experience it and see into the heart of this chaos, but not blame it. You told me all this. I remember. And I remember that you also said it was the only thing I could always believe in, no matter what."

I was sure of this. I was! As sure as I knew the answers for simple arithmetic. I could remember my life from before I went on this detour with Predator. Everything had been so messy, so muddled with emotions and thoughts. But now it made sense. It all did. And I wasn't going to let my surety fade.

Predator looked at me oddly, tilting his head from side to side. "You're sure? I didn't tell you any of that. The last thing we spoke of before you inexplicably collapsed were ghosts and how you seemed to think there were any down here. But this talk of... pixels... I don't buy it."

I stared right at him. "You're testing me."

He sat there, emanating that ponderous clicking for a moment. Then he snickered. "Well... we would be lying if we said we weren't," he replied. I assumed that by 'we', he was referring to the masses of pixels that made him up. "Very good, Myst. You now have the knowledge and the belief that will cement your consciousness to your being. Few have achieved this, and always they became nexuses of great change. Consider yourself blessed."

I exhaled. His assurance felt like the final item on a checklist. "I do. Thank you."

But I was surprised at how... normal I felt. This was knowledge that dealt with my very being, telling me once and for all what I was. People often spent their entire lives trying to figure this stuff out, embarking on soul-shaping adventures that often left them permanently changed. Here it'd been handed over to me, and... well, great. How... enlightening.

"So... what now?" I asked.

He stood. "Hm?"

I tapped my forehooves together, my gaze darting around. "I... well, I mean I know what I am now... sort of. But how do I go about this? Do I... do I..." I cleared my throat. "Are, uh... things going to get better? Or, maybe, do more answers start presenting themselves? What do I do?"

Okay, so maybe this whole 'revelation' hadn't been quite as helpful as I'd thought. I now knew, in a literal sense, what I was -- and by extension, what everything was. Apparently the reason life was so fucked up was because lots of the pixels that made up existence forgot themselves and ended up either embodying the wrong things, or forgot how some concept worked and so made it function wrong. I got that much. But why was it that, even when reduced to my most fundamental particles and energies, I was still an undecided, confused mess? Was doubt integral to the pixels that made me up or something? Hell, was I made up of doubt pixels? Those existed, right?

"We said it simply, and we'll do so again: keep living. What did you expect? That remembering your being would suddenly straighten all of your life's problems, manipulating time and space to create perfection? No, things don't work like that. Not in this reality, anyway. The 'pixels', as we called them, are the groundwork of everything. All magic, matter, energy, and space are rooted in them... but it is not their place to actively reshape things. No, certainly not. They only react to one another as is fitting; they fall through the cracks, coalesce into substances, and birth new compounds as their nature dictates. And right now their nature, incorrect and misplaced as it is, creates this wastelandic life you all suffer. You are bound to it, twice-bound actually, because your being is synchronized to its laws and customs, its ways and natures; and furthermore, because you don't remember your alignment from before your involvement in this world."

Great. Even in the face of what could be the most life-changing event in my life, all I still got were pieces of advice that basically summed up to 'It's how it is, deal with it.' What a flop. Goldwreath was right; reality, even this fundamental pixel reality, sucked ass.

"Oh, don't fret," he assured me, stepping close and placing a hoof on my shoulder. "You feel doubtful? Naturally so. You're not at home. You're surrounded by family members that don't remember you. And most of all, being in this world right now, you are subject to its limitations and impulses. But you have tasted of your home. You have felt the bliss of remembrance, of being... similar. Of being alike to all others. That is the paradise that you and all your kind will eventually return to, Myst. It's just a matter of how long and difficult the process will be. And while it's true that we have not given you the intimate knowledge to acquire absolute power, or the finer truths by which greater enlightenment can be achieved, we have also not rendered your mortal life pointless, your goals trivial, or your struggles a waste. This reality dictates upon you a set of rules, and unconsciously you have played by them your whole life. But now you know for sure those rules are flawed and unfair."

He looked me over. "So, indeed... what will you do? We can only guess. Yours is the choice. Do with it what you will."

He left it that. He withdrew his hoof and turned, trotting along down the tunnel. The lights dimmed rapidly, and I felt a tingling in my spine as I forced myself after him.

"Say hello to the ghosts, Myst. The pixels of the tunnel greet you."

All around me, the dark thickened. Whispers and echoes and other indistinguishable sounds called out to me from the shadows. Images came to mind: Roaman citizens dressed in their togas, smiling at me and waving; soldiers in shiny armor giving me nods of approval; some ponies in leather outfits, raising their sticks of radigator meat to me in greeting. In all the noise, the very walls of stone seemed to be speaking to me, using the sounds of two centuries of use and habitation to communicate. The grating crash of a train. The scream of a lost mare, not unlike what I'd been. The maddened laughter of insane raiders, followed by the death cries of wastelanders.

I'll admit, I was scared. Ever since stepping out of Spiderhole, I'd had the faintest sense that there were eyes on me. The sensation had only intensified when I'd been separated from Goldwreath, and it became terrifying when Predator invoked it on me. But the tunnel wasn't evil. Noise was all it had to try to speak to me -- noise and the choking claustrophobia. Could I blame for using all it had in an attempt to speak to me? Could I blame it for playing witness to such catastrophes and trying to make some good out of them? No. And who knows, maybe in Tunnel, screams and echoing footsteps meant a friendly 'Hello'.

I put up an awkward smile. "Hello... n-nice to meet you at last. All of you."

It was weird to think of them as my family. After all, I was a mare, and they were... shadows. Shadows and noise. But I guess anything's possible when we're all just pixels, right?

***Roama Victrix***

"I still have so many questions," I said.

"Naturally," he replied.

"And... would you mind if I asked them?"

"That depends."

"On what?"

"How much of our time you intend to take for your inquiries. This form of ours, this Predator, has his own life, his own obligations and desires. To put off that side of our worldly existence would not sit well with him. He has already deigned to guide you from this place: an endeavor he would not have embarked upon without our encouragement. Right now we can feel his thoughts, and they all boil down to the desire to do away with you as quickly as possible."

I frowned. "O...kay? I won't take long, then. At the least, just answer me this: why me? Why me, of all the people you've encountered?"

He stopped. He stood there for a moment, humming with thought. The faint field of red illumination cast from his visor was totally still. "Truthfully? Because you were easy to work with. Your thoughts and emotions are all aligned towards a certain spectrum of personality. If to truly be oneself is to be of pure essence, then you were closer to purity than all others we've met. They were all too diverse. Too much pride, but only under a circumstance. Too impulsive, but only when they wanted to be. Too stubborn, but only in the face of new ideas. But you, Myst? You are as you are in almost every single situation. You're less of a compound than most. Your elements were clearer to us, more defined. And so we knew how to treat you."

"And what am I, exactly?" I asked. Then, realizing he could easily answer with just the word 'pixels', I added, "I mean, as a person? What's with my personality that is apparently so universal to my being that you saw it right away?"

He turned, casting a lava-like glow upon me. "Oh, simple. It's fear, Myst. You're always afraid, even of the good things. You think all that happens negatively involves you somehow. And so you hide... and have spent most of your life doing so. We noticed it in the way you moved, the way you spoke. The way you cowered in our presence. Fear is integral to you. It comprises most of your being. Perhaps you were even pixels of Fear before your amnesia. Ah, but we cannot say for sure. You do show other feelings, after all -- possession of a pantheon of emotions is a trademark of your kind. So diverse... and so pitiable. A double edged sword, and one you have turned upon yourselves."

I was stunned, if only for a moment. It made sense. Fear had controlled me my whole life. It had controlled the way I made sense of the world, the way I interacted with others. I had always known it was a flaw, as much as it had saved me before. And now here I was, having it thrown right back at me. It was now confirmed to be part of who I was, no matter how much I hated it. But damn... what I wouldn't give to be mostly something else. I... I would have liked to be something else. Maybe a mare with a bit more adventure in her blood. That would have been nice. Y-yeah. It... would have been... nice.

I knew it was stupid to ask, but still I questioned, "Are you sure?"

He tilted his head and gave a few hesitant nods. His eyes seemed unable to meet mine. "We... we are. If we were talk in percentages, you would be about ninety-two percent Fear, eight percent... well, everything else. It is not a happy existence, we know. No one wants to be scared. Fear is not a concept even pixels like to embody. And perhaps that is Fear's nature, to be shunned and unwanted. Perhaps that is simply how it is against all the other concepts. Still... long have we lamented those composed of Fear."

He looked up, his eyes flaring with light. "It's not all bad, though... if you'll believe us. Fear is not a primal concept. It is a compound, a creation of mixtures. Within it, for example, is Caution. There is also Wisdom in Fear, and Respect, and Timidity. And like all beings made up of compound concepts, you have been afforded a great freedom: to choose from among those which you embody one you truly desire. Fear is your being, Myst, yes it is... or at least it's most of you. But if you embrace it, accept it in all its forms, with all its strengths and drawbacks, we truly believe you can change yourself. And when the time comes that your pixels remember what they truly were -- Fear or otherwise -- you as a conscious being can refute your original self. You could be whatever you want. And that is an encouraging thought."

I stared into his visor, my thoughts lost and my emotions twisted. But I managed a smile, for all it was worth. "It's the thought that counts, I guess. I don't really believe you... but thanks for trying. Really. I appreciate it, Predator."

He nodded. "You are welcome. For future reference, though, you are speaking to Dark. Predator is much less... inclined to acts and words of kindness or goodwill, even when given motivation. You'll be able to tell the difference easily, believe us. We are a neutral force, the result of the absence of Light. But Predator? Oh, he is aligned somewhere in the extreme regions of the spectrum of Good and Evil... though we who use him as a conduit in the physical plane know not to which side. His exploits are of great consequence, like yours. Great consequences lead to great change. And where there is great change..."

He looked off into the tunnel, which was now lit up at the end with a fiery orange glow. My first thought: torches! And who else did I know that had torches aside from Goldwreath and the others? For a short moment, I was ecstatic. I was finally out of there, away from a strange world of Fundamentals and pixels and back into a more familiar one of rock and sky. I wanted nothing more than to be normal again, even if it meant being misunderstood. I wanted just that, at least for a while.

But the glow didn't come from torches. That much became immediately clear. It was too powerful, too bright. And it was getting closer, fast.

"... there are also those who would try to stop it," Dark finished with a sigh, staring at the fiery glow as it approached. "Myst, get behind us."

I did as I was told, and from behind him I gazed at the burning light as it neared. I could feel heat radiating from it, like the Sun's light on the noon of a clear day. The tips of my fur and eyelashes singed, leaving the front part of my body looking half-charred. The sudden rise in temperature got to my head, and I swooned dizzily, unable to put enough thought together to even contemplate running away. I couldn't even look at it. It was so bright my eyes teared up, and even when I shut my lids I could still see it: the outline of a blazing orb singed into my sight. The source of it all came so dangerously close that my knees buckled, the heat almost knocking me out.

"Justice! Ever so dramatic with the flare," Dark called out. "Now stop it. We are Light's opposite, but that does not mean we have to fear it. Show yourself so we may talk."

The heat ebbed away, the glow diminishing. I whimpered, breathing in hot air. And when I was sure I could open my eyes without having them dried to a crisp, I looked. The light, which had before been the equivalent of a second Sun, was now just as bright as a bonfire. And its source stood tall on four armored hooves, its body clad head-to-tail in shining plates of steel. Its eyes were immediately familiar. The indigo irises blazed with a contempt I'd only ever felt from one particular knight.

Vox Populi stepped forward with large strides, his armor wreathed in flames that slowly faded. And yet the lack of fire didn't make the hundreds of meters of lava-like melted tunnel behind him seem any less terrifying. The molten stone oozed, dripping from the walls and from the ceiling, bubbling and steaming with gas. I'm not exaggerating when I say it looked like he'd brought Hell along with him.

The knight stopped a few strides away from Predator's body. "Light's opposite, are you?" he asked contemptuously. "Dark. Justice has had little dealings with you in the long history of its being. It would prefer to not clash with another Fundamental."

Predator's head shook. "Dark is not a Fundamental. And neither is Justice-..."

"Sacrilege!" Vox Populi immediately retorted, and again his form burst into flames. He growled, and the sound of it was like a hundred flamethrowers ejecting fire all at once. But slowly, the heat died down again. "Ooh, you tempt Justice's fickle wrath with your senseless words, Dark. How greatly Luck has blessed you that Justice knows it is too easily angered, lest you'd be illuminated by flames and made one with your opposite."

Dark snickered. "How lucky am I, indeed..."

"But enough talk! Vox Populi is not here for you, but for the mind and soul of the being whose body you inhabit. That... creature, that thing, is to be submitted to Justice, posthaste! Its wrongdoings eclipse all of the combined atrocities committed after the Great War, and for such heinous crimes there can be no forgiveness. Mercy would have done well to understand that."

Mercy... the weird zebra mare I'd encountered at Spiderhole. The one that'd visited Goldwreath when he was unconscious and helpless in Vox Populi's clutches. At the time I'd thought 'Mercy' and 'Justice' were just codenames for some odd gang back in Spiderhole. But no... those people were actual embodiments of abstracts. I knew that now.

"You forget your nature, Justice. It is not your place to judge this one, no matter his actions," Dark replied calmly. "No, that notion of your being is a constructed one, impure and tinged with faults and biases. You would do best to remember Justice's original purpose."

Vox Populi's indigo irises glared at Predator with a very real aura of intense heat. "The only fault Justice possesses, Dark..." Vox Populi said slowly, dangerously, "... is that it tolerates too little nonsense. What happened to you? What exploits across the cosmos have you embarked upon that would make you spout such idiocy? Where did you witness the lies that would have you dictate what is or is not Justice's duty? What heresy has overtaken you?!"

"We don't suppose we could make you remember, could we?" Dark asked. "Pixels. Time, Energy, Matter. The first sequences and reactions. The birth of new abstracts and ideas... do you feel it within you? Do you have... memories?"

"How dare you inquire of Vox Populi! He answers to none but Justice!" the knight shouted.

Dark just shook Predator's head again. He glanced back at me -- I, who had cowered behind Predator, out sight of Vox Populi's hateful glare -- and sighed. "This one will not be persuaded by any words of ours. Memory of the three true Fundamentals and of the time before the Forgetting are nowhere within its consciousness. We sense that a confrontation will be inevitable. And you, Myst, must not be here when that happens."

"VOX POPULI ASKED YOU QUESTIONS!" bellowed the knight, marching forward with glowing indigo eyes, his body flaring immensely bright. "Who is that you speak to? What... her? The mortal mare from Spiderhole? Coincidence would have her encounter Justice again? Bah! She has no business in Vox Populi's presence. A spawn of Chaos is she, fit only to meet her end. And she will meet it in me if she intervenes in matters mortals like her know nothing of."

"Between us, then," Dark replied resolutely. He turned and faced me, looking right into my eyes. "You have done well today, Myst. Much have you accomplished in mere hours that others never could even with their whole lives. But circumstance would have you leave us now. We hope to meet you again. Now go, and seek answers."

I shook my head, looking between him and the knight. "Wait, I... I can't just-..."

He didn't give me time to protest. His hoof touched my forehead, and my vision tunneled. I was thrown forward into the tunnels at breakneck speeds, the whole world falling away into the distance as wisps of shadows carried me off. The whole scene with Justice and Dark was nothing more than a tiny point of light, but in an instant it burst with such radiance that my carriers burned away. I could feel their essence dissipating all around me, Dark purged by Light -- and suddenly I was in free flight.

I didn't have wings. I wasn't a pegasus -- I had no wind magic! I was flying forward at lethal velocities, and there was no way of slowing myself down, or even landing safely. I gasped and writhed, flopping my hooves around in futility as the tunnel behind me exploded with light and heat.

I was sure there was no wall of pillows waiting for me. There would be no surviving this. There was nothing I could do about it. I closed my eyes and screamed.

Then something heavy punched the air out of my lungs and knocked me out.