An Extended Holiday

by Commander_Pensword

135 - To Know One’s Self

Extended Holiday
Ch 135: To Know One’s Self
Act 21

---

“So, that was a hot mess,” Gabriel noted as he and New Moon trekked through the Everfree. It was later in the day. They had slept, eaten, and New Moon had gotten some treatments for her wounds. Now the duo were on a minor job in the Everfree hunting creatures that fit the description of a hidebehind, a dark figure that hid behind trees and other objects, then jumped to attack unsuspecting victims. Both monster hunters had donned specialized glasses with mirrors covering half the lenses to alert them when they found their quarry.

“Indeed. I hadn’t expected us to be at such a disadvantage,” New Moon noted. “Hopefully, our next journey will be more successful.”

“How do you feel about what we’ve been told?” Gabriel asked her.

“This Igor is a mystery. His Velvet Room and this cognitive world aren’t like dreams. They’re harder, much more substantial, trickier to work with. I wish I had brought my hammer.”

“You think Meteor Impact would have made a difference?”

“Hammer Strike is a great smith, but he finds secrets he doesn’t fully understand infuriating. Our moon steel is an art only we can create, and its mystery, I feel, would give it some merit in his subconscious.”

“And what about Golden Oak?”

“He is … strange. Such a different character, and yet, in his happiness and contentedness, I see bits and pieces of the Hammer Strike I knew long ago.”

Gabriel nodded as he reached for one of his silver daggers. A dark blob had appeared in his vision. “We’ll carry this on later. Get ready. I think it’s time.”

Meanwhile, back in Ponyville, Feather Blade was working on sharpening knives in the small camp that he had set up behind Golden Oak’s home. He frowned each time he heard a Pegasus flying overhead or hoof steps near the square. He wasn’t sure if he was protected right now, but he had a gut feeling that if he wasn’t careful, he could land with more fines or jail time for either weapon possession, slipping into Thestral behavior, or some other thing to remind him that he didn’t belong here. He added another note to his rapidly growing list of complaints and suggestions to give to Celestia at a later date.

The clopping grew louder, and Feather Blade rose his head to see a familiar white Unicorn wearing an alchemist’s smock and a pair of saddle bags. “Hello there!” he called with a wave as he approached the tree.

“Oh,” Feather Blade sighed as he released some of the tension in his limbs, “it’s only you. I thought it’d be the mayor or somepony speaking for her. If you’re looking for masters Gabriel and New Moon, they’re out on a hunt. They left me behind to prep their weapons for tomorrow.”

“The hunt is always on, isn’t it?” Yvetal sighed as he opened his saddle bags with his magic. “I have a few small tokens to offer them, no charge. A monster hunter saved my life once, a long time ago. It seems only fair that I pass the favor along.” Five bottles were lowered onto the ground, three red, and two blue. “The red ones are to aid with physical injuries and fatigue, while the blue will assist in recovering magical stamina. I know Gryphons and Earth Ponies don’t generally require such things, but I believe I recall Pegasi have a tendency to use their magic on a regular basis when dealing with the weather. Keep them, just in case.” He smiled kindly. “Worst case scenario, your masters will be able to sell the potions for a bit of coin in a pinch.”

“I will pass them along then, kind sir.” Feather Blade looked to the sky with a twitch of his wings. “Though It has been a lonely chore. Would you care to sit and rest your hooves a bit? I could use the company, to be honest. It seems I am not allowed to fly today. I don’t have the proper papers.”

“Proper papers? Since when has a Pegasus required papers to fly?”

“Because flying is for the weather patrol or those with the weather patrol’s approval. In other words, if you are part of the weather team, even if once a month, you get to fly. No weather team, no flying. I can fly in the Everfree or outside of town limits, but I am ground bound here, and that comes from the weather patrol leader’s mouth. I think this is something enforced only when a Pegasus they don’t like shows up. It would force them to move along quickly.

“Well, that doesn’t sound very fair,” Yvetal frowned.

“It isn’t fair,” Feather Blade replied matter-of-factly.

“Hmm. Sounds like I know who not to sell to next,” Yvetal murmured as he rubbed a hoof under his chin. “I don’t take kindly to bullies.”

“Well, good luck there. Just don’t burn your bridges,” Feather Blade muttered.

“Oh, I can handle myself well enough.” Yvetal smiled as he drew closer and sat down by the Pegasus. “So, why don’t you tell me a little about yourself? It’ll help to pass the time, and my business isn’t too pressing at the moment.”

“I guess I have the time.” Feather Blade smiled. “Why not?”

---

Gabriel knocked hard on the inn door as New Moon held the bundle on her back. Several bloodstained sheets of cloth were wrapped around a vaguely equine figure. “Mayor, come on out! The monster’s dead!”

The mayor stepped out and looked confusedly at the bundle. “You … you caught it?” Her eyes widened as she gaped. “I … well, I suppose that’s good, then.” She smiled. “Do you have a rate?”

“Do not attempt to play me, Madam Mayor. The bounty was set at seventy bits, and seventy bits we shall take.” Gabriel’s expression was blank.

“We misfiled the rate book for hunters,” she answered truthfully, “but I’ll up it to seventy five bits, if you dispose of the creature,” she said as she eyed the bag warily.”.

“Done!” Gabriel nodded, holding out his talons.

She placed her hoof over the talons. “Just go. Oh, and tell your servant that he owes the town one bit for flying without the weather leader’s permission.”

“And tell your weather patrol Pony he owes the church of Sleipnir twenty-three bits for interfering with the sacred order,” Gabriel returned.

She raised a brow. “Say … what?”

“That ‘servant,’ as you call him, has been inducted into the Order of the Monster Hunters as sanctioned by the crown and both the churches of Faust and Sleipnir. His life has been signed away to keep yours alive. If flying should be deemed necessary, then it is Sleipnir’s will that he fly. Today, he was making sure my equipment was in top order. I have found evidence that a kobold colony may be spawning in the far south of the Everfree. Have you ever seen a kobold before, mayor?” He only stopped briefly. He knew the answer. Naturally, there were no kobolds in Equestria. They needed a much drier climate, and thus only bothered the southernmost reaches of the country on the rarest of occasions.

“They are large, filthy reptilian beasts. They stand on two legs and gnash their terrible teeth. Their tails secrete a paralytic, which they use to take you back to their nests and feed you to their thousands of screaming putrid spawn. But if you would prefer that my assistant not make the necessary preparations to destroy the nest, before it takes root, then I will pay your fine. However, if you do not wish to be eaten by a thousand tiny squirming mouths, then you will take every action committed by us as though it where the will of Sleipnir himself. Am I understood?” he asked. He stood at his full height looking down at her as the wide brim of his hat cast a shadow over his glowing blue eyes.

“I shall….” She shivered at the gaze, then tried again. “I will endeavor to inform the weather leader of this information as soon as I can, and personally pay the fine from my own pocket.”

“You have my appreciation,” Gabriel nodded, even as he kept his tone perfectly level. “Now, if you could see your way to pay us, we have many more preparations to make.”

“Give this to the treasurer.” She gave Gabriel his receipt. “He should be in his office. He’ll make sure you get the proper payment.”

“Good day to you, Mayor.” Gabriel tapped the brim of his hat, took the receipt, and turned to leave.

New Moon managed to hold back her snicker, until they were out of earshot. “Laying it on a little thick, weren’t you?”

“Well, if they didn’t know that a hidebehind was amorphous, they wouldn’t know kobolds were small cowering little creatures who can’t survive this far north. Perhaps it will keep them from causing trouble in the future.” Gabriel gave her a wink as he transferred the ‘corpse’ onto his back and handed her the receipt. “Less likely to claim it’s a forgery, if you bring it in.”

She nodded, taking the paper and heading for the treasury as Gabriel made a beeline for the tree.

“Feather Blade, get the fire ready,” he called as he got close.

Feather Blade looked up from the fire. His fur was sopping wet. “A foal dumped a pale of water on me,” he groused. “Oh, and Yvetal dropped off some supplies for you to use in your future hunts, while you were out.”

“I don’t think you’ll be having too much trouble in the future, once word gets around,” Gabriel said as he tossed his burden into the flames, the cloth burning away to reveal a roughly shaped log.

“Oh? And why is that? I take it your hunt was successful, given the way you were smiling before.”

Gabriel nodded, “You could say I put the fear of Sleipnir into the mayor,” he chuckled.

“I wish I could of have seen that.” Feather Blade replied with a dark chuckle. “I just wonder how it went from this to what we knew before, you know?”

“Same say it went from segregation to acceptance, back home.” He looked at Feather Blade. “People started speaking up, and Celestia started listening.”

“Then I shall have start speaking up or leaving papers to help change the world,” Feather Blade answered.

“Let's keep our mark on history small right now, Feather Blade. Remember, we have a more important mission to focus on.”

“Very well,” Feather Blade sigheed.

Gabriel smiled gently. “Glad we have that settled. Now let's make up some food, before the others get here.” He retrieved a pot from their equipment. “Could you get me some water, please?”

“Right away.” Feather Blade took the pot and looked up. “Am I allowed to harvest from the clouds now, or do I still need to get it from the stream?”

“I don’t think you’ll have any more trouble flying”

“Sweet!” Pensword was gone in an instant as his exultant cry echoed on the wind. He returned five minutes later with a grin almost as wide as Cheshire’s and a pot full of rain water. “Here you are.”

Gabriel nodded as he placed the pot over the fire. He retrieved several bundles from his bag, unwrapped some meat, and began tearing off chunks, before tossing them into the water, followed by different vegetables and a sprinkle of salt. “Are you going to be okay for another night?”

“I’ll survive. I’m just lonely. I can handle the cold and the winds and nature. I just wish I had someone to talk through the days with sometimes. It’s strange hearing nothing but the wild animals about.”

We’ll be home soon enough,” Gabriel offered. “And things will be better.”

“That is something I am very much looking forward to.”

---

The group once again stood in Hammer Strike’s cognitive world on the pathway leading to the castle deep in the Everfree forest. Behind them stood a darkness that would lead them once more into the waking world, and to the left of the path, a blue door stood with the symbol of the Velvet Room. Any equipment that they had from their previous run through his castle was missing from their person, except for the Drop of Dreams that Vital held on to.

“So, got any ideas for how to get in unnoticed this time?” Vital asked.

“Let's go into the room first,” Grif noted, heading towards the blue door.

“Sounds like a plan. I want to know what happened to the equipment from last time, anyways,” Pensword agreed.

Soft clicks could be heard as they entered the Velvet Room. Igor was tapping his talons against the desk, while leaning against his other hand. “Welcome, to the Velvet Room,” he greeted in his usual manner. “What can I do to assist you on your journey?”

“Why did we lose almost all our equipment? Did we miss some save point?” Pensword asked.

Igor chuckled aloud. “You treat this as a game. It would only make sense that things from the cognitive world that hold so little power would be unable to enter the physical world.” His smile widened. “But with what progress you have made, a new room has opened up in the Velvet Room,” he finished, gesturing to his right as the doorway next to his desk unlocked with a loud click. “I am certain it will prove quite useful to you all.”

Pensword raised a brow. “Really, really hard not to think like a video game,” he muttered, then repeated a mantra he felt he would be using for quite a while, “This is real life, not a video game.”

“So, what’s behind door number one?” Vital asked with a nervous smile.

Grif and Luna rolled their eyes as they approached the door, and Grif opened it.

The portal revealed several dummies and weapon racks lining the walls. Some of the dummies were garbed with familiar pieces of equipment, while a lone rifle stood in one of the racks. Blue curtains covered two windows in the room, maintaining the same soft light as the main room.

“Well, hello, armory,” Vital said as he raised his brow in surprise.

“Not much of an armory yet,” Grif noted as he fitted his pauldrons.

“Maybe in time.” Luna nodded as she fitted her peytral and armored shoes.

Pensword reached for the rifle as Luna returned his pistol and box of ammo. “I should look into finding armor this trip around,” he muttered, “but I say we be more stealthy, and hit the enemies from behind. Then again, last time we did that, the threat level still went up, due to them not checking in.”

“So is this a damned if we do, damned if we don’t situation?” Vital asked.

“Not quite,” Grif noted. “In case you forgot, Luna can teleport us to the tower.”

“But it’ll take a lot out of her, won’t it?” Vital asked.

“Not if we get close to the wall,” Luna countered as she shook her head.

“With the alert level up, there will probably be sentries along the walls. We’ll need a plan to get in close without being noticed,” Vital noted.

“Unless it went down overnight as he felt us leave,” Pensword countered. “Then again, this is Hammer Strike we’re talking about, so it might have ratcheted up with us leaving.”

“Maybe a smoke bomb tied to an arrow, shot over the wall? It should get their attention away from us,” Grif suggested.

“We’d likely have to rig multiple bombs from different parts of the castle to thin out their forces. Otherwise, we’d probably still be seen,” Vital noted. “He knows a distraction when he sees one.”

“Still, I guess we need to find a map of the castle to help, and be more attuned to noises to know where enemies are and sneak past them this time around.” Pensword cracked his neck and flapped his wings a few times to warm himself up. “I’m ready.”

“Hey, Vital,” Grif started, “what about blinding them?”

“It would heighten the security, but in theory, it would give us the time we need to teleport in. And since he doesn’t know how we got in last time, the only way we’ll be caught is if he’s stationed a guard in the wing we teleport into,” Vital mused. “It could work.”

“Oh, there’ll be a gunner up there. We know that much. But if we’re quick, we’ll catch him off guard,” Grif noted. “So, Vital Spark. Solar flare?”

Vital Spark grinned. “How much magnesium do you need?”

“How much you got?”

“Let’s just say enough for a lot of flash bombs.”

Grif grinned viciously. “Well then, let’s see what we can do.” Over the next several minutes, the two worked taloned hand in hoof. The result was a slapdash, but workable, flaring arrow. “This will have to do. We don’t have a lot more time.”

“You made sure to double the dosage in each, right?” Vital asked. “Remember, things here are less effective than in the real world.”

“I put enough in here to blind most people permanently,” Grif said as he took out his bow. “If you have some kind of sunglasses spell, now would be the time.”

“A proper alchemist always comes prepared,” Vital said pointedly as he pulled out a thick set of dark tinted lenses, and levitated them onto Grif’s head. “As for you two, it’d probably be best to just not look up at the explosions,” he advised.

“Well then, here’s to Tien.” Grif took aim and fired the first arrow high. It traveled upwards over the courtyard, and well into the night air, before detonating in a large blast of light.

“Uh, Pegasus eyes deal with lighting flashes, but if you don’t think I can’t handle this, I won’t look up,” Pensword answered with a chuckle. “I do have Thestral eyes.”

“Pensword, lighting’s got nothing on this stuff. By the way, nice idea with the mini bombs inside, Grif,” Vital complimented as the Gryphon prepared the next arrow, and the alarm began to sound. “You ready, Luna?”

“Ready when you are,” Luna responded, her horn glowing.

“Three. Two. One.” Grif fired again, and the group sprinted to the wall. The moment they got within range, Luna teleported them to the tower just as another blast of light blanketed everything.

Inside the tower, a large leatherbound soldier stood rubbing at its eyes. It was the same type of guard that Grif had killed the previous night. The Gryphon quickly leaped forward and ripped the soldier’s throat out with his talons, letting it disappear into shadows.

“Okay, now that that's taken care of, is everybody ready for this?” Grif asked.

“Ready,” Pensword hissed in a low tone.

“I assume you want me to keep up the White Mage Protocol?” Vital asked.

“For now. How many floors should we go down this time?” Grif asked.

“However many it takes to find the map?”

“We’re probably only going to get one floor,” Grif noted.

“Should we try exploring the corridor from before, then? Or do you think Dreadlord over there would expect that?”

“I think we’ll probably be expected on that level.”

“So let’s explore someplace we won’t be expected,” Pensword suggested.

“The dungeons, perhaps?” Vital mused.

“It certainly is an original choice,” Luna responded as they took to the stairs and started heading down.

“Here’s hoping it’s not a nightmare,” Vital whispered as their hoofsteps clopped on the hard stone of the stairwell.

After a few minutes and one locked door, the group was greeted by the lowest level of the castle. The torches lining the hallways glowed a dim blue, barely revealing the hallway before them. The occasional clink of chains blown by a draft echoed mournfully back to them.

“Well … that’s depressing,” Vital noted. “Anybody got a torch?”

Pensword looked around. “Well, I am looking for one.”

Vital sighed. “Give me a minute.” He opened his saddlebags and pulled out a series of powders in individual pouches. After sorting through them, he pulled out three and returned the others, before pulling out an empty beaker. Next, he added the powders in equal parts, saving the extra for later, before inserting a stopper in the container and shaking it. “There. A chemical reaction to produce luminescence. It’s not as bright as a torch, but it’ll do for our immediate surroundings.”

“It should work,” Pensword agreed as he looked around. “However, at the moment, we appear to be in a hallway. Shall we find where the chains are, and explore down there first?”

As the four continued down the hall, the scent of blood began to reach their nostrils. Shadows writhed as they passed, and solid blocked stone gave way to barred cells. Bones littered the floors, and rats scurried back and forth, chewing to get at the marrow. The occasional groan or sigh would drift ghost-like through the air, punctuated from time to time by a shriek of pain.

“... Well, that’s encouraging,” Vital deadpanned.

“This … is unnerving,” Pensword said as he peered into the cells and shuddered at the sight of discarded wing joints and the occasional Pony skull. Others were covered in pulsing crystal, and others still reeked of burnt flesh and ash.

“I’ve seen worse,” Grif noted with a shrug. Luna nodded behind him.

“So, you ready to see worse? I mean, we haven’t even gotten to the torture chambers yet,” Vital noted.

“Just stay quiet,” Grif warned as they moved forward slowly.

As they drew nearer the end of the hall, the light began to shine more brightly through a riveted steel door that had been left open a crack. The churning of heavy metal gears and the hiss of liquid against searing metal assaulted their ears.

“Just tell me what I need to know.” The voice was dual toned, but all too familiar, it was a voice Vital Spark especially heard most days in New Unity. “And I’ll make sure to let you die nice and quickly.”

“Guys,” Vital shuddered, “if that’s who I think it is….”

“Less talking, more running,” Grif interrupted as Luna levitated Vital onto her back, and the three took to wing, speeding back to the stairs.

Pensword was in the rear as he was the slowest of the three flyers. His ears swiveled constantly, keeping a sharp lookout for any signs of pursuit.

“Okay, dungeon is a no-go,” Grif said as they piled into the stairwell, and he shut the door as quickly and quietly as possible behind them.

“Roger that. So, next floor up?” Pensword asked.

Grif nodded, and the group went up one more floor, entering the door they found there. The hallway was as empty as it had been the last time they had passed through. “Let's hope there’s no surprises,” Grif noted as they headed down the hall and along the left corner.

Vital shuddered. “Guys, if there’s a shadow Clover, then … what if there’s a shadow Trixie?”

“We’ll deal with it if it comes to that, but what I worry about is how he would view shadow us,” Pensword said.

“Not just us, Pensword,” Grif noted. He looked at Luna, who nodded.

“Shadow Celestia,” she agreed.

“Oh, Mew,” Pensword meeped.

“If I had to guess, these shadows are Hammer Strike’s interpretation of what we could be. If that’s the case, imagine Celestia with a darker taint, no caring, no holding back,” Grif said.

“So, assuming these shadows do exist, that means we’re going to have to fight our dark clones on top of Hammer Strike’s?” Vital asked.

“Yes, but I’m not as worried about those,” Grif replied.

“You’re worried about some Nightmare Nova or something, then? What about a Nightmare Moon, one that actually thinks tactically, like Luna?”

“Luna can beat Nightmare Moon easily,” Grif said nonchalantly.

“Wait … what?” Luna asked. Her voice trembled slightly.

“Relax, Luna. I have faith in you.”

“Yes, because your faith will be the advantage I need,” Luna said as she rolled her eyes.

“Eegads, she’s learned sarcasm! She’s surpassed me. I’m doomed!” Vital said dramatically, even as he kept his voice carefully controlled.

“Point is, this isn’t like we’ll be facing dark versions of us,” Grif noted. “We’ll be facing dark versions of how Hammer Strike sees us. And who knows us better, him or us?”

“In my experience? Him,” Luna answered bluntly.

“... You’re really the optimist in this, Luna,” Grif deadpanned.

“We shall see,” Pensword said. “How about this, Luna? I’ll set a wager with you. If it turns out that you’re right, and he knows us better than we know ourselves, next time I visit Earth, I’ll get you a large supply of Moon Pies. However, if we are right, and we know ourselves better than Hammer Strike, you’ll have to give up one bottle of moonshine to the Thestrals in New Unity.”

“Very well, Pensword,” Luna agreed, “but I should warn you. I still feel this could go poorly.”

“Considering we carry all our wounds with us from this place, and we’re dealing with super tough bad guys that are made several times scarier by the fact that they’re actually competent? Yeah, odds are things will probably go wrong at some point.” Vital shrugged. “Best we can do is go forward and try to avoid said problems.”

“Stealth mission, then,” Pensword whispered back.

“Eeyup,” Vital agreed.

“Someone's coming.” Grif lifted his head, catching two seperate sets of steps coming their way. He drew his sword and reached for a knife. Just as the others got prepared, two of the lesser knights they’d fought before came around the corner. The only difference was a glowing red eye peering through the visor of the helmet. “Well that's great,” he growled. “Same great enemy, even less room to dodge.”

Pensword had taken to hiding in the shadows of the rafters in the hallway, waiting for a chance to attack, if needed.

“Keep your eye trained on them. Don’t fire, unless it’s absolutely necessary,” Grif said, not even looking at Pensword. He charged forward and swung for the neck of the first knight. Unfortunately, the armored hand lifted, grabbing Grif’s sword before it could make contact. Grif moved in with the opposite hand, stabbing for the chest. Fortunately, the attack came fast enough to get past the knight’s defense, albeit just barely. The knife skated across the metal for much longer than Grif would have liked, before finding an imperfection, and pushing through with a screech into the knight's chest. An angry swing from the knight sent Grif flying into the wall. Grif gasped, trying to catch his breath.

Pensword didn’t make a sound as he watched. Worry creased his forehead as he tracked the guards’ movements. However, at the moment, he didn’t have anything that could fight back, without drawing attention to the other guards in the castle. To fire the rifle here would just be inviting more trouble.

The second knight charged forward with a roar, and Vital Spark let it come. He stood stalwartly for a few seconds, then shot a concentrated beam of magic onto the floor to coat the knight’s path in ice. He jumped out of the way as he continued the stream right to the tower door, where a series of jagged icicles as wide as stalactites and sharp as swords awaited the assailant. It slammed into the wall at full speed with a resounding crash, and a cry of pain echoed from its helmet as its left arm was completely impaled through the joint of its armor, leaving the limb all but useless.

Luna charged her horn, and blue light enveloped her armored horseshoes. This would be more effective with a direct access to the moon, but the enchantment would serve for now. She charged forward, avoiding the ice on the floor entirely by jumping to the wall and running perpendicular to the ground. She built up her magic before her in a wall of solid energy, which she proceeded to slam against the first knight with all the force she could muster. The magic shattered against it’s armor, but not before the force slammed into the hilt of the knife still sticking from it’s chest plate. With the sound of shrieking metal and a devastating crunch, the dagger nailed the rest of the way into the knight's chest and through its heart.

The second knight smashed his sword against the base of the icicle that had impaled it, breaking it off from the main wall, then turned about, searching for a better target. Its eyes fell on Pensword’s position in the rafters. It charged forward, then leapt into the air, bringing its sword down with a deadly stroke. Unfortunately for the knight, aerial maneuvers were second nature to the Pegasus. Pensword leaped into the air and rolled out of the way, dodging the blade completely. Not even a feather had been disturbed. He rose higher, floating near the top of the ceiling to try to remain out of the knight’s reach.

Vital Spark charged forward, drawing in the moisture from the air around him with his horn to form two lances. He stopped just far enough out of reach to avoid the knight’s range, then flung the lances through the air with all the force he could muster. Unfortunately for him, the weapons simply scraped against the armor, breaking off their tips, before landing uselessly on the floor.

Luna grabbed one of Grif’s knives from his belt within her magic. Her horn flashed several times as she added gravity and propulsion spells to the blade, before hurtling it towards the knight. The knife sailed through the air and punched through the neck of the knights armor, and it dropped with a sickening gurgle. As the knight burst into shadows, a small glass vial with a red fluid was left behind. Meanwhile, a blue orb and a red orb sat idly on the floor where the other knight had perished, alongside its shoulder plates.

Pensword slowly settled onto the ground. “So … what armor does everypony have?” He asked as he looked over the shoulder plates. He looked to Luna and her chest armor, then back to the new drop. “I guess I’ll take them this time.” Just as the armor had with Grif and Luna, the shoulder plates adjusted to suit Pensword’s exact measurements.

Grif coughed a bit as he slowly made his way over. “What do we have here?” he asked, reaching out to the red orb curiously. The second his talon made contact, the orb vanished, and the pain in his wounds ebbed in a soothing wave of relief. Luna grabbed the blue orb in her magic and gave a contented sigh as it dissolved, feeling her reserves filling to a more comfortable level.

“Grif … how are you able to move about so quickly? Didn’t you get your wind knocked out of you?” Pensword asked.

“I’ll be fine,” Grif said, deflecting the question. “Where to next?”

“Well, we can’t go up, and we certainly can’t go down, so I guess that just leaves us with forward, right?” Vital asked.

“I guess so.” Grif nodded, and they headed down the hall with a cautious stride. Eventually, they came to a three-way stop. A tall ornate door stood to the right with a bright crystal mounted on its top. The door to the left was squatter, stouter, and broader, but otherwise had no distinguishable markings. The one down the middle was a rounded door surrounded by an arch with a large keystone at the top.

“So, where to next, guys? Do we draw straws?” Vital asked.

“I say we got to the door in the middle,” Pensword answered

“Grif? Luna?” Vital asked.

“Honestly, after that fight, I’m not sure we have much choice. “The middle seems the best bet,” Grif said.

“Then I guess middle it is. Same formation?”

“Yes,” Pensword chirped.

“Let's go, then. By the way, who picked up that vial?” Grif asked.

“Oh! My bad.” Vital grasped it in his magical grip, and levitated it over to his saddlebags. “I’ll keep it in here for later.”

Grif pushed open the door slowly, peering into the room, only to determine there were no hostiles. Inside was a small study with an oak desk with drawers sitting behind a blue throw rug with a gold trim, a small bookshelf on the left side of the room, and a painting of Hammer Strike on the right wall.

“Well, this can’t be good,” Grif noted.

“I concur,” Pensword whispered. His ears twitched nervously as he sought to hear any hoofsteps. “Should we leave or look around?”

“If we pull the looking, we can’t touch anything. I mean, this has to be his office, right?” Vital whispered.

“Yeah,” Grif said as they pressed further in, “so we’ll let the Unicorns handle picking things up.”

“... I swear, if any of these things are boobytrapped, I’ll haunt you for the rest of your life, Grif,” Vital growled as he stepped over towards the painting first, and used his magical aura to shift it aside.

“I can live with that,” Grif chuckled.

When nothing but wall faced them, Vital returned the picture, then turned towards the desk itself. “So, Grif, what’s it gonna be? Is the big prize behind drawer number one, drawer number two, or drawer number three? Our television audience is standing by,” he said in the cheesiest impersonation of a gameshow host he could manage.

“Drawer number two,” Grif said after a long thought.

Vital’s magic surrounded the handle, and he pulled it out slowly to reveal a small box with a pistol engraved on its cover. “Huh. And cue the Zelda soundtrack.”

“Yeah, but it’s the chest that gives you something useless,” Grif noted

“So who wants to open it? Whoever does ends up keeping what’s inside, right?”

“Vital, it doesn’t look familiar to you?” Grif asked

“Looks familiar to me,” Pensword answered.

“It’s a pistol. Don’t know what caliber.” Vital shrugged.

“Pensword, pull out that ammo you got earlier,” Grif said.

Pensword did as he was asked.

“Now what do you notice about the box containing your rifle ammo, and this box with a pistol engraved on it?”

“They are the same, so… that means that there will be a magic cloud, if we open the box.”

Grif nodded. “And it’s not going to have flintlock shot or revolver bullets, which means we can’t really use it,” he noted.

“So, we put it back then.”

Grif proceeded to slam his head into the wall. “No! You put them in the pack of whoever has the most carrying space, and save them for later. If we need the space, then we drop them.” He sighed. “I miss the war.”

“Right … adventure game rules,” Pensword said with a sheepish smile. “Vital, you want to hold onto the box? You have the least amount of stuff.”

“Actually, I have more than the rest of you with the materials I’m carrying, but I’ve got room, so why not?” He shrugged as he picked up the box in his magic and stuck it into one of his saddlebags. “So, which one next?”

“The bottom one,” Luna said.

The drawer pulled out to reveal little more than piles of paperwork. “... Good to see some things never change,” Vital Spark noted dryly. “And drawer number one.” He pulled, and the lock jiggled. “Should we try to pick it or leave it be?”

“Or we could, I don’t know, look for the key?” Grif said, rolling his eyes. “Seriously, have none of you ever stolen information before?”

“Not really,” Pensword answered.

“Okay, look. Pensword, search the plants. Vital, check under the rug. I’ll check the bookshelf,” Grif said. “Luna, you keep an eye on the door.”

Pensword nodded as he walked over to the plants and began to sift through the leaves. He ran a wing around the bowl, the water catcher on the bottom, and the dirt between the plant and the wall of the vase. A quick levitation, and the rug was hovering at desk height, revealing little more but wooden floorboards. Grif swept through the levels of the bookshelf in quick precise movements. At the top shelf, he moved a book, and heard something metallic drop. He moved the book aside, and revealed a key. “There we go,” he said, grabbing it.

“So much for letting the Unicorn do all the work,” Vital said with a cynical smile.

“Competency takes priority here,” Grif said as he made his way to the desk. He unlocked the drawer and opened it. “Well now, what do we have here?” He pulled out a sleek object. It almost looked like a feather at first, but on closer inspection, it seemed to be made out of crystal.

“I don’t know,” Pensword answered.

“Something’s not right here,” Hammer Strike’s voice echoed softly around them. “Materials and substances exist here, but … I don’t know what they are, despite this being my own mind.”

“Oh dear,” Pensword muttered.

Grif drew a small velvet bag from his pack and gently placed the crystal feather inside it. Then he placed it deep in his bag.

“So, next room?” Vital Spark asked.

“Yeah.” Grif nodded, closing the drawer and locking it. Then he handed Vital the key. “Put it back exactly how it was.”

“Which book?” Vital asked. Once Grif had pointed out the proper one, he levitated the book down, and adjusted the key on a clever peg that had been hidden jutting out from the pages inside. Then he returned the book to its proper place and nodded. “Let’s get going.”

“Left room now?” Pensword asked

“Yeah.” Grif nodded. “Might as well.” They exited the office and turned to the door that had been on the left when first they arrived at the intersection, pushing into it with as much care as possible. However, the caution proved unnecessary, since the room was almost an exact copy of the previous room they were in, except for the locked drawer. Pensword moved to check the potted plant again.

“Grif, you want to check the desk, while Luna watches the door?” Pensword asked.

“Guess I’ll check behind the Hammer Strike picture again,” Vital said with a shrug. “Also, man, does he have one of these hanging in every office or something?” he asked as the painting shifted aside.

“It’s his mind. Probably his super-ego expressing itself. Let’s be thankful it’s the super-ego,” Grif noted as he opened the first drawer, “and not the id.”

“That would be scary.” Pensword shuddered. After a quick search, they discovered nothing of significance and returned to the hall. “So, last room, then. The right room, right?” he asked.

“Choose the right, when a choice is placed before you, as the old song goes,” Vital said with a wink. “Um, say, guys … shouldn’t we be staring at the last door right now?”

“Yeah ... this doesn’t seem right,” Pensword answered as the party stared down the long hallway back to the stairwell.

“Maybe the right door?” Grif asked turning to the door that had been on their right when they first entered the room. Opening the doorway revealed the entrance hall to the castle with a new duo of guards standing by the base of the stairs watching the front door.

“... I hate these kinds of puzzles,” Vital sweatdropped.

“Status report, entrance hall team,” a voice came from one of the knights. The guard closest to them sheathed his weapon, before pulling out a small walkie talkie. “Nothing to report.”

“I assume we’re going to want to try to get that?” Vital whispered as they pulled their heads back behind the door.

“I agree, and get this puzzle right,” Pensword said.

“We might be able to take them out,” Grif mused as he looked over the situation. “There are only two, and they seem to be the weaker kind.”

“I’ll hang back. I don’t have a weapon that could take them out without drawing attention to our location,” Pensword responded.

“An axe makes loud noises?” Grif asked.

“I think he meant the gun,” Vital pointed out. “We’ll need to go after the one with the walkie talkie first. Otherwise, the danger level’s going to go right up.”

“Actually we need to kill them both at the same time, or within fifty-nine milliseconds of each other,” Grif noted. “Anything more, and we make needless noise with a fight.”

“How do we do that?” Pensword asked back.

“Luna, how precise is your teleport under calm conditions?”

“Why?” Luna asked warily.

“They’re unguarded and alone. Could you teleport something right into their chest?”

“I suppose,” Luna said, after some consideration. “That is a brutally efficient use for the spell I hadn’t thought of,” she admitted. Grif gave her two wooden stakes, and both vanished in a flash of light. The two knights stiffened suddenly, clutching their chests, before collapsing. The left knight faded into shadow, leaving nothing behind, while the right left its longsword, chestplate, and a familiar small blue bead.

“Aww. How come we never get the walkie talkies?” Vital sighed as he levitated the bead over to his satchel. “So who’s taking the spoils this time?”

“Well, I’m the only one here who can use a longsword,” Grif noted as he picked up said sword, which adjusted to fit his size instantly. “Normally, I’d take the chestplate, but if it’s the same quality as those pauldrons, it’s probably not going to help in open combat. You take it, Pensword.”

“Yes! Chestplate,” Pensword hissed happily as he took the armor. “This will be good. It’s always better to carry some protection.”

Grif scanned the room, looking for all the different exits. There was the front entrance, side doors leading down more hallways, and the stairwell near the center of the room leading to the second floor.

“We seriously need to find a map for this place,” Vital whispered.

“Agreed.” Pensword nodded his head.

“So … we going to try divining or just spin the bottle to pick the way?” Vital asked.

“Someone else pick,” Grif said.

“How about the closest side door?” Pensword asked. When he heard nothing against it, he walked over to the door and pushed it open with a hoof, then stared. “Grif … Pinkie Logic. Pinkie Logic.” When the others looked into the hallway, they saw another hallway, this one lined by stained glass on either side with five doorways on either side. A steady light poured into the hall as they stared.

“... Something’s telling me this is going to be a long night,” Vital Spark groaned.

Three hours later, the group were stalking down a random hallway. Grif and Luna were feeling the pain of many smaller wounds from numerous engagements. The party had agreed they’d leave for the night, after checking one more room for the ever illusive map.

“Last room,” Grif noted as they came up to the door.

“Well, at least I got a war axe,” Pensword said as he took a stance at the side to help watch the party’s backs.

The room was similar to the offices they’d found previously along the way in the beginning of their journey; however, this one was larger by comparison. Bookshelves stood on both sides of the room, along with containers, chests, and a couple of additional desks. A large oak desk stood in the center of the room, refined almost to perfection, with a large throne-like chair behind it.

Pensword looked to the door. “I’ll keep watch this time. You all check for drops.”

“I don’t like this,” Grif said, looking around.

“This room is … too full to be empty,” Luna nodded.

“And by empty, you mean unused?” Vital asked.

Luna nodded again. “While the rooms have been mostly empty, they’ve always contained spartan furnishings. There is too much happening in this room for it to be the same.”

“So I’ll watch the doors, you start going through the room,” Pensword repeated himself.

“The point of our being here is to not be noticed, right? If we steal from here, wouldn’t that raise some red flags?” Vital pointed out.

The door suddenly shattered inward, scattering wood shrapnel everywhere. “Trust me when I say this. You raised red flags when my knights were going missing,” Hammer Strike’s shadow growled faintly as the torches around them grew darker. “So, you’re the ones tampering with this place. I’d say I’m surprised, but you always find some method of getting in the way of things.”

Pensword backed away from the door as swiftly as he could manage, without drawing a reaction out of the evil Pony.

“Well, this is several different shades of not good,” Grif said, taking an involuntary step back.

“In short, we’re pretty much screwed, aren’t we?” Vital asked.

“Yes. Now I get to decide what to do with you four. After all, a quick death wouldn’t feel right.” The shadow smiled as the shadows around him collected onto his back, taking the shape of a greatsword. Before they could take any action, he had drawn it and took a wide arcing slash at the group, letting darkness consume their vision.

“Well now, I wasn’t expecting something like this to take place,” a familiar voice echoed through the darkness. After a moment, their vision began to clear, revealing a soft blue carpet with its gold trim leading up to a familiar desk and figure. “Welcome, to the Velvet Room.”

“Um … not that I’m not grateful here, but … what the buckjust happened?” Vital exclaimed.

“It would appear that the shadow was able to find and contain your collective presence within his mind,” Track spoke to the group as she opened up her book. “In other words, you fell for a trap collectively.”

“So we need smaller groups?” Grif asked.

“It would appear to be the best option before you.”

“Well, we are learning each day; however, I would suggest we look into the village next time. Might give us an easier time.”

“The village you speak of is the collective consciousness of the general population.” Track closed her book and returned her gaze to the group. “Be warned. While the shadows are weaker than those in Hammer Strike’s mind, there are more in numbers.”

“... And now I feel like we’re stuck between a rock and a hard place,” Vital sighed.

“The journey ahead of you will no doubt be difficult.” Igor glanced between the members of the group. “I am certain you will find your way.”

“Thank you,” Pensword said.

“So, the less people, the less likely we are to be sensed in there?” Grif asked

Track gave a quick nod.

“How few are you suggesting, exactly?” Vital asked.

“Teams of two are your best bet,” Track noted. “Less would be better, but the dangers that are present wouldn’t allow it to be that easy.”

“Well, I think for now, we should head back,” Grif noted. “We’re in no shape to head into new territory.”

“At least we didn’t take so much damage this time, right?” Vital offered weakly.

“That is a good thought. We did do better on day 2,” Pensword agreed. “Still,” he yawned, “I think we should get some sleep, then reconvene tomorrow to plan. For now, we all need rest.”

“What time is it out there, anyways?” Vital asked.

“I would say it is about thirty minutes past sunrise in the waking world.”

“Then we definitely should get going,” Grif nodded.

“Agreed.”

“Until next time, Igor,” Vital said with a smile and a wave. “And thank you, Track.”

“Until next time,” Igor chuckled as they departed.

---

Luna held her sword carefully in her magic as she scanned the area around them. Two days had passed, and after much deliberation, the group had decided to split their efforts. Luna had taken Pensword and headed for the village, while Grif and Vital Spark set off to begin mapping and scouting what they could of the castle. To that end, Grif had given Luna one of the long swords they’d managed to gain during their last visit, and currently, the two were making their way through the strange village to see what advantage, if any, they might find there.

“This feels empty, like a ghost town,” Pensword whispered as his ears twitched in hopes of catching any sounds other then he and Luna. “Also, should we try any of the doors?”

Luna nodded. “You pick a door. I’ll keep watch”

Pensword nodded and approached the cottage. The day before, they’d discovered it belonged to the head of the weather team, and decided that might not be a bad place to begin. He walked up to the door and tested it gently.

The door gave way easily, and opened to reveal a wavering image that flickered between regular Earth Pony architecture and the fluffy white cloud of a typical Pegasus dwelling. The lower portion of the house was mostly bare, save for the entry to the kitchen off to one side. The majority of the furnishings, what few there were, had been shoved hastily onto a loft in the upper reaches of the house.

Pensword stepped cautiously into the home, keeping his ears perked and his body ready to act at the slightest disturbance. After a brief scan, he signaled Luna to join him. She entered, and closed the door behind her, standing guard, while he walked to the kitchen in search of any clues he could locate there. The shifting from cloud home to Earth Pony architecture proved disorienting, but not unmanageable.

Unfortunately, the kitchen yielded nothing of interest, so he turned his attentions to the loft. He sorted through the hammock, a few trunks, and even some cloud cubbies when the room shifted to the other architecture. Unfortunately nothing of use could be found. When he turned back towards the main hall to report, though, a familiar-looking Pegasus greeted him with piercing yellow eyes and a vicious grin.

“So,” the Weather Master’s shadow chuckled, “we have the half breed breaking and entering, do we?”

“Yes. We’re looking for information on how to stop a monster. We thought this place might yield some answers.”

“No answers here for you, nightmare spawn.” The shadow sneered. “I’ll have to report you. Monster hunter or no, breaking and entering without proper cause, well, that’s against the law now, isn’t it? And I’d be within my rights to defend myself and my property now, wouldn’t I? You won’t be able to set one filthy hoof in this town again. My boys will run you out.” He chuckled then as he bore his teeth. “Unless, of course, you can beat me properly.” His wings tensed. “But I think we both know that’s not going to happen.” Then he rocketed forward.

Pensword jumped aside and whacked the Weather Master firmly on the back of the head, only to recoil, after a powerful buck knocked the wind out of his barrel.

Luna watched as Pensword grit his teeth and seized the shadow’s extended leg, before it had a chance to recover. He used the momentum to fling the Weather Master over his head and out of the loft. He followed up by dive bombing the Weather Master, adding his own momentum to prevent the shadow from breaking the fall. The Weather Master landed with a resounding crash, and growled like a wild animal, before flailing with his hooves. A stray hoof caught Pensword across the jaw, while another clipped the joint at his hip, leaving Pensword to bear the pain, and allowing the shadow the opportunity to break out of Pensword’s hold. The Weather Master flipped onto his hooves and bucked again, but Pensword was fast enough to evade the blow, albeit barely. The wind from the inertia rustled his mane.

Luna narrowed her gaze, and prepared to step in, when she finally saw what she’d been waiting for. Pensword’s eyes slitted as he snorted angrily. He launched himself into the air, and the Weather Master followed, but Pensword was expecting this. He snarled as he dove at the shadow. The Weather Master sneered, thinking to avoid what he thought to be the charge of a maddened beast. It was a mistake that would cost him. Pensword banked expertly, after the dodge, veering up to strike the shadow with a vicious uppercut that sent him spinning in the air. Just as he righted himself, Pensword rammed him in the withers, effectively pinning his enemy’s wing joint to limit flight mobility. Moments later, they crashed into the floorboards with enough force to shake the house. The shadow looked up from his place on the ground dazedly, and Pensword loomed over him with eyes that practically glowed with malice. He grabbed the Weather Master with both hooves and locked his jaws around his jugular. He felt the sensitive skin quiver under the grip of his fangs, heard the frightened thrum of his opponent’s heartbeat. Just a little more pressure, and he’d rip the Weather Master’s throat out.

“Parley, Parley….” The shadow wept. “Please, don’t kill me. I’ll be nice. I’ll stop the bullying. Just please, please!” He sobbed uncontrollably, and Pensword’s keen eyes honed in on the rigid cartilage of a hoof-shaped brand. “If … if we could just have our clouds again, the freedom to take wing, we’d be so much better.”

“What do you mean?” Luna asked with narrowed gaze.

“The … the law constrains us. We … we can’t fly, except when our schedules allow. The rest of the time, we’re ground bound. Keep the law, stretch our wings. Put a feather out of line, and we pay.” He shuddered. “Haven’t we paid enough?” he wept to himself. “Unicorns get it, too. Anypony that doesn’t give her her way. The Apple Family’s too busy tending their orchards. They don’t see what’s going on, and we can’t do anything without proof.”

“Is that so?” Luna hissed.

“My team. This … this is the last place they have left. I can’t let them down.” As the Shadow spoke, a glowing white orb appeared out of the floorboards. “Please, most of them were just foolish colts. They don’t deserve to go to prison.”

The slits in Pensword’s eyes slowly returned to his regular pupils as the glow faded, and he released his grip on the Weather Master’s throat, though he kept his hoof pressed against the Pony’s throat to hold him down. “Answer me this, Weather Master. Why do you treat me so harshly, when you yourself face such treatment?”

“I … I–.”

Pensword didn’t give him the time to finish. “Swear to me that you will never mistreat another Pony as long as you live, and teach your weather patrol to do the same. Do this, and we’ll help you. Don’t, and you bring this punishment on yourself.” He lifted his hoof off the shadow’s throat, so it could stand. “Do I make myself clear?”

The shadow nodded vigorously. “I’ll do what you ask. I promise!” He motioned over to the orb. “Take this. It’ll help you on your way.” With that said, the shadow vanished in a whisp of black smoke. “And thank you,” his voice sighed as a last farewell.

Pensword reached over with a hoof, and touched the orb. It glowed brightly for a moment, before shattering into fragments of light that gradually disappeared. A piece of parchment hovered in the air before him with the town’s official seal in its upper reaches, a seal he had seen closely guarded in a safe in the mayor’s tap room. He glanced over the contents of the letter, and his body began to tremble. With a shaking hoof, Pensword put the letter inside his armor. “I think we’re done here,” he said hoarsely. The trembling increased, until he felt the reassuring bulk of Luna’s frame against his side.

“You handled it very well,” she praised gently. “Don’t allow yourself to be afraid. It is a gift, just like any other. Control it, and it will serve you well.”

The trembling eased as Pensword took a few more calming breaths. He snorted once, then nodded grimly. “That wasn’t the only thing, but thank you, all the same.” He sputtered to clear his head. “Next home?”

Luna gave a satisfied nod and smiled kindly. “Yes. It seems there is more going on in this settlement than we first anticipated.”

Pensword nodded. “Agreed. It seems Hammer Strike isn’t the only one who needs to be saved.” His eyes hardened with determination. “Let’s make this the Ponyville it’s supposed to be.”

“Yes, let’s,” Luna agreed as she lit up her horn, and opened the door to the house.

---

“So, how precise is your freezing ability?” Grif asked as they finished scouting the outer wall of the castle. They hadn’t found a secondary entrance into the palace, after going over the entire perimeter.

“How precise do you need?” Vital countered as they huddled in the shadows cast on one of the corners of the walls beneath the parapets.

“Well, the moat means that the stones beneath the water line likely have water seeping into the mortar. Water expands, when it’s frozen. You think it would be possible to freeze a section beneath the surface, until it creates an opening large enough to squeeze through?”

“An opening like that would be risky. One stone misplaced the wrong way, and a whole portion of wall could come toppling down on top of us. Even if we survived, we’d have the whole castle after us, and then we’d be stuck in the Velvet Room again.” Vital shook his head. “It’s not worth it.”

It’s not like we can go in through the front door,” Grif pointed out. “And last I checked, you aren't cleared to teleport yourself, nevermind the two of us.”

“Well, this is Hammer Strike we’re talking about. He has plans within plans within plans. Do you really think he’d just allow there to be only one entrance?”

“You think he’d make it so anybody but him could access it?” Grif returned.

“Him and perhaps his top advisor?” Vital pointed out. “You are basically his war chief.”

“And that's precisely why he wouldn’t let me know, unless it became necessary.” Grif shook his head. “Even if I did know, he’d already have said entrance under heavy guard.”

“There has to be a way to get in somehow,” Vital insisted. “I mean, it’s his mind, after all. Nobody’s mind can be totally sealed off, no matter how hard they try.”

“Ideas?”

“Well, this is the embodiment of his darker side we’re dealing with. Maybe there’s an entrance that can only be found using thaumaturgy.”

“Thaumaturgy doesn't work that way,” Grif sighed.

“... Actually, that might work. What if we were to use thaumaturgy to try burrowing through one of the larger stones? It’d give us ammunition to use here, and let us get in safely. Well, relatively speaking.”

“It could work,” Grif agreed. “We’d better get to work, then. I don’t know when this shadow we’re hiding in will shift, and I’d rather not be exposed.”

“... Well, that didn’t work,” Vital groaned a few minutes later as he rubbed his head at the base of his horn. “Any other ideas, Grif?”

“Well, those windows give me an idea,” Grif said as he looked up. “Can you freeze the bars cold enough to turn fragile?”

“Easily. You realize we’d have to get far away from there as soon as possible, once we break in, though, right?”

“You’re assuming we’d be loud. I just need you to make the metal brittle enough that I can break it. The glass won’t make a sound.”

“How’re you going to super heat it?”

Grif pulled out his zippo, creating a small pressurised air stream with a finger. He placed it near the flame, and the fire took on an appearance not unlike a blowtorch. “I have to cheat a little with thaumaturgy, but it should work.”

Vital grinned. “Let’s do this.”

It didn’t take the pair all that long, once their plan of action had been chosen. True to the miracle of science, Grif used his makeshift blowtorch to superheat the bars at the tops and bottoms. Then Vital froze them with the coldest spell he could muster. After that, it was a simple matter of snapping them off and levitating them into Vital’s pack for later.

Next, Grif retrieved a device from his bag. It had a black suction cup with a piece of line connected to it. A sharp blade stood at the end of the line. Grif attached the suction cup to the window’s center and carefully cut a large circular hole with the blade. Once he was certain the suction cup was holding, he pulled out the glass and lowered it gently to the ground, making sure to keep it as close to the wall as possible to avoid being spotted from the parapet, and to try to keep the light from reflecting off of it.

With that job done, Vital Spark jumped up onto Grif’s back and braced himself, using his magic to maintain his balance, before finally climbing through the window as stealthily as he could manage. Grif followed closely behind.

“Where to?” Vital whispered.

“It seems like that's been decided,” Grif said, picking up a slip of paper.

‘I pulled away the guards, or else you two would be dead right now. Follow the hallway south, until you get to the red door, and we’ll settle this. I’ll be waiting - G’

“Looks like Hammer Strike knew I’d try this.” Grif gave a dry chuckle. “Sent the best person he could think of to set me up.”

“Well, you always did say you wanted a challenge. What greater challenge could there be than facing against another you?”

“Point. Anyway, it seems like things will be quiet for now. No need to rush, so if you see anything interesting on the way, let me know.”

“Like a treasure chest?”

Grif chuckled and rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “Sure, Vital.”

---

Forty minutes later, Grif and Vital approached the red door mentioned in the note. It was a large foreboding portal, intricately carved with scenes of bloody battles showing Gryphons and Ponies locked in eternal combat as the gods, both Gryphon and Pony, looked down impassively with neither pity nor remorse as their subjects made war in their names. It withheld no details, and nothing was glorified. Gold handles stood out against the red background. The right one was shaped like Hammer Strike at the army’s head. The second one stood in the form of Grif, only this version was older, with more scars and a menacing stare.

“Well, that’s inviting,” Grif quipped as he took in the door. “I guess it’s a less-than-optimistic depiction of the Third Gryphon War.”

“War is often pointless and petty. I guess this is just Hammer Strike’s opinion of it, or perhaps how he thinks you would perceive it?” Vital considered.

“Maybe. Who can tell?” Grif said as he put a hand on each handle and threw the doors open. The portal opened on a long descending slope that led into a massive stone structure shaped like an oval. The entirety of it was covered in large blocks of granite. Massive granite pillars held the roof up. Granite blocks traced the center, forming seating for unseen spectators. The central area was ringed by a thin wall. Beyond that, the slope shifted to a small set of stairs. The floor fell six feet, leading to an arena of sorts. This particular arena was uniquely coated in fine gravel. Six torches placed on holders along the wall lit the central pit. On one end, Grif’s banner hung along the back wall in a pale green. The Bladefeather clan symbol had been woven in a bold silver, and stood above the Gryphic runes for faith, family, and loyalty.

Across from it stood a harsh mockery of Grif’s banner in a much deeper emerald green. The Bladefeather clan symbol stood superimposed over a crown. The feather-shaped swords dripped with blood. Beneath it, three Gryphic runes lay, but these read, blood, sport, and conquest. Beneath them stood a figure. He was very much like Grif, yet his black feathers and green chest where washed out. He was covered in many more scars, and wore an armored long coat. The blades on his back resembled Vigilance and Vengeance; however, with a much darker design. The normal copper-like red of dragonbone now appeared like dried blood. The Grif beneath the banner watched them with cold, calculating yellow eyes. The way he stood and the way he took them in seemed to give him the appearance of being many centuries older, despite not showing any of the physical signs of age.

“And there I am, Hammer Strike’s view of me,” Grif noted.

“Not exactly a pretty sight,” Vital said.

“Keep that in mind for when we run into you,” Grif said as he removed his pack and set it down outside the ring. He removed anything valuable he had on him, along with anything that could be damaged in the fight, save for his wedding ring. “Take care of these for me.”

Vital nodded. “You need backup?”

“Even if I did, I couldn’t have any. Not the way this works,” Grif chuckled. “Besides, I have something up my sleeve.”

“Don’t you always?” Vital smiled knowingly.

“Just be ready with whatever healing items we’ve got left.” Then, without another word, Grif stepped down onto the gravel floor. He took a moment to work the gravel between his paws and talons, to feel the type of earth he’d be fighting on.

“So, you made it,” Shadow Grif said with a smirk, his deep dual tone full of confidence. “You took your time.”

“Hey, just because you put killing you higher on my to-do list doesn’t mean you get to the top automatically,” Grif responded. “Is this the part where you taunt me with how much better you are?”

“Well, I am better than you in every way, but no, this is the part where I reveal the truth to you. After all, my banner is what everyone sees when they look at yours.” Shadow Grif pointed to his own bloody banner. “Grif Grafson Bladefeather, the legendary butcher, the heroic traitor, the Gyphon King of Equestria.”

“Nice try, but I’m not falling for that one. I was never aiming for a crown, and the traitors were all of them. I was true to me,” Grif responded.

“A rousing story. You almost sound believable. Doesn’t he, pet?” The Shadow Grif chuckled. He looked up to the stands, and Grif followed his gaze. There sat Shrial, wingless, muzzled, and chained to the ground like an animal. Using her as a footrest, Avalon sat in long black robes, reading from even blacker books. Gilda cackled like she was mad as she toyed with a knife not far off.

“What … what is that?” Grif asked as he took an involuntary step backwards.

“Why, I thought it was obvious. That’s how they see their relationships with you. One is a prisoner, chained to you, her freedom exchanged for her life. Another sees you as her tool, one of the strongest Gryphon warriors under her thumb, to be manipulated into gaining her greater power. And the last one sees her marriage to you as some fit, only kept in place by a bout of madness on your part, and should it ever pass, she’ll mean nothing to you.”

“Thats….” Grif found his confidence failing him in that moment as he backed away. Was that all it was?

“Yo, Grif! Actions speak louder than words. You really think the South Wind would approve, if that was all you had with them?” Vital called.

“Listen to the horned prey,” something growled in the back of his mind. “This one is an upstart, a fake.”

“And after all, are you not what you were raised to be? Your arts are war and conquest. Your trade is death. I am your greatest potential, one who can spill the blood of an entire country with little more effort than you would take to write a letter,” the shadow continued to push.

A thought struck Grif, and he found himself momentarily short of breath. Igor had said his arcana was death. Was it true? Was he just a killer?

“Death is change. Some die so others can live. Think of your pride!” Images were slammed into Grif’s mind with the force of a sledgehammer: memories of him with his new family, holding his girls for the first time, having little Tazeer curled up near his chest. Grif felt his confidence bloom again, and took a step forward. He reared up and grabbed a longsword in each hand, then stood in stance across from his opponent.

“No, I’m not a butcher. I don’t fight because I enjoy it. I fight because the world needs to change. You aren't my greatest potential.” He flourished the blades. “You aren't my true self.” He took another step forward. “And most importantly of all, you are not me!”

“You’re right,” Shadow Grif said as his beak curled into a sneer. “I’m not you.” The mock Vigilance and Vengeance were in his hands at speeds almost imperceptible. “I’m so much better.”

“If there is a DJ somewhere in Hammer Strike’s mind, do me a favor. Play me something to kick this faker’s ass, too!” Grif figured for a moment he’d look stupid, before, quite suddenly, music began to play.

The two didn’t move for the first few seconds as piano keys thrummed, but when the drums hit, the two rushed each other. Sparks flew as Grif’s longswords met the mirror versions of his own blades. Immediately, Grif was forced onto the defensive as his double pushed, hammering him with powerful blows that he barely brought up his swords to block in time. Grif idly wondered if this was how Hammer Strike felt fighting him as his hands started going numb. With a sickening crack, both long swords shattered. Grif barely dodged in time to save himself from being decapitated. He immediately switched out to his Hammer Strike-made stilettos. The daggers lasted even less time, with their thinner blades, and Grif received several gouges to his side. Grimacing, Grif withdrew his second knife set and dove under the shadow version’s range to attempt to impale his chest. The blades snapped against the shadow’s armor with laughable ease.

“You don’t get it,” the shadow chuckled. “You can’t beat me with those toothpicks.” Then he blasted Grif with wind at point blank range, sending the warrior rolling across the ground.

“This is several different shades of not good,” Grif mumbled to himself as he hurled throwing blades at his shadow, who blasted them away with a few swipes of his wings. Grif hurled more and more, emptying his bandolier.

“Are you really not getting it? That’s not going to wo–.” Anything else was cut off by a cry of pain as tines of electricity jumped through the shadow’s body between the scattered throwing blades. He stood paralyzed in place, until the enchantments wore themselves out, which, thanks to Twilight’s careful formula, resulted in several dozen rapid detonations. Grif smirked to himself, only to have the wind knocked out of him as a powerful blow sent him spiraling forward. The Shadow Grif stood at the other end, scuffed, but otherwise fine. He charged forward, intending to scissor his opponent, only to be blocked with a metallic clang as the smoke cleared, revealing the real Grif holding his katana between the two blades. Not waiting for his opponent to recover, Grif backed away, throwing off the ruined remains of his leather armor.

“Kick his butt, Grif!” Vital cheered as he looked on. The three Gryphonesses continued to watch from their places, the shadow of Avalon even going so far as to lower her book as her brows rose with intrigue at the sight of the katana.

Grif could feel his stamina waning as the two continued to clash. The shadow Gryphon was his better in both magic and skill with a blade, and Grif had already noticed the few minor wounds he’d inflicted healing themselves, which seemed to imply he was also more skilled in thaumaturgy. But Grif was starting to notice the spider holes. As he suspected, if Hammer Strike was ignorant to something, so was the shadow. He’d had his blades enchanted on a separate occasion, and it had never come up to tell Hammer Strike.

“You need me!” the beast growled. “I can beat him.”

‘Not without the Dark Gale, you can’t, and I’m not chancing what that will do to Hammer Strike’s mind,’ Grif thought back. No, he had something else in mind.

Grif needed time, however, and his opponent would give him none. Much like Hammer Strike knew Grif to be, the shadow had no patience for prolonging the fight more than necessary. After several failed attempts to distract or daze the Gryphon, Grif finally resorted to a cheap tactic. When their blades locked next, he threw a talonful of gravel in his opponent’s eyes. Much to his shock, it worked. His shadow roared its frustration at the sudden blindness. Capitalizing on the moment, Grif grabbed his magic-suppressing ring from his belt and slipped it on, before concentrating. He reached for the fire within himself, not taking the time to suppress his thaumic field. He had no idea how the two energies would react, but there wasn’t time to try his usual way. He found his inner fire and pulled it forward, letting the energy fill his body. The pain in his tired and injured muscles quieted as the power flooded them. Soon a visible whitish-blue aura covered his form and his blade.

“Well that’s new,” the shadow said finally, having finally managed to clear his vision. “But I doubt it will be enough. I think it’s time to end this.” He raised his blades, preparing a final attack.

Grif smirked. The joke was sitting there, waiting for him. This wasn’t the right technique, but he wasn’t going to get another chance like this. “Kaioken!” he shouted.

The shadow stopped. “Kaio-what?”

In that instant, Grif struck, closing the gap between them in a blinding flash. He cut both hands off his opponent, stabbing the shadow in the throat. He caught both swords before they hit the ground and thrust them into the shadow’s side, cutting through his armor like paper, and into his chest, only stopping when he reached the other end of his opponent. The shadow’s eyes dilated in shock, before his body realized it was dead, and promptly collapsed.

Grif released the fire, and fatigue and pain enveloped him again, though surprisingly less than he’d remembered. Still, he slumped to the ground. Behind him, the shadow Grif dissolved. The armored coat and swords clattered to the ground, the armor mysteriously repaired of the rends his blows had dealt it before. Over on the other end of the arena, two Gryphonesses let out a startled gasp, before popping into nonexistence. The third sighed in relief as she faded with her bonds.

“Vital, if it’s not too much to ask, can I get those healing items now?” Grif coughed a little blood into the soil.

Vital Spark was there in an instant. “Here’s the red orb from last time, and I have a few healing potions here, too. Do you need something for vitality as well?”

“Right now, I just need to heal,” Grif said, grabbing the orb. “That was quite the fight.” He sighed as the pain receded slightly, and he stood up. He made his way to the fallen armor and weapons, removing the few plates he scavenged. Then he picked up the armored coat and carefully put it on. He felt several plates interlock as he buttoned up the front. When he picked up the swords and placed them on his back, he began to feel … good. His energy was starting to return. “Huh, thats something,” he noted.

“What?” Vital asked.

“I should be out of magic, and almost out of thaumic energy, after that fight, but I can feel it trickling back, like whatever was holding me back before is gone.”

“You sure it’s not a status buff for the new duds?”

“I’m not sure what it is. Still, we should mark this entrance, then head back for the Velvet Room. Even with the boost, I’m not sure I can fight much longer, after that.”

“It’s not going to respawn, is it?” Vital asked as he offered his body for support.

“Pretty sure he’s not. Probably took a lot to make the first one. Not sure Hammer Strike’s going to risk making another for a while.” Grif thought for a moment. “Also, it’s entirely possible Darkstrike knows where we are.”

“Considering his top fighter let us in here in the first place, I’m guessing it’s a pretty solid bet,” Vital agreed. “So, to the window?”

“To the window,” Grif agreed with a groan. “And when we tell the story? I beat him in one move, okay?”

“Now, Grif, just because I chose the path of magic doesn’t mean I chose to stop being honest,” Vital said with a wink. “Besides, the valiant struggle of the hero always makes them more attractive to the ladies, or in your case, your mates.”

“You’ve got a lot to learn, Vital,” Grif chuckled as they made their way out of the room. “But that can wait.”

“Just don’t involve Murphy,” Vital countered.

Grif grinned. “I make no promises.”

---

Pensword paused as he looked behind him, then back in front of him again. “Uh … this is a manor. In the middle of the town.” He looked up at the gate surrounding a four-story-tall building with two wings, one on each side to create an I from the air. “I think we found the home of the mayor in this land.” The landscaping was nice, the wall was tall, and the gate they stood in front of had been engraved with what he assumed to be scenes from the mare’s past. Of course, that did them no good, considering said gate was locked up tight. “I guess we need to find a key or have her think we are accepted in her manor?”

“That will require a clever story,” Luna noted.

“Indeed,” Pensword replied. “Do you mind if you take on crafting that story? I doubt she would take much time to listen to a feather-born like me.”

Luna thought about it for a few minutes, before a sly grin formed on her muzzle. Her horn glowed brilliantly, obscuring her for in light. Several seconds later, the light died down, and Celestia suddenly stood before the Pegasus. “Test.” Luna’s voice came through the solar Alicorn’s mouth. Her horn flashed, and she coughed. “Test. How do I sound, Pensword?” Half way through her sentence, her voice began sounding like the sister she now impersonated.

“I….” He stood and stared. “It’s just like her,” he whispered.

“Let us hope it’s enough,” Luna said as they approached the gate. “Open in the name of Her Royal Majesty, Princess Celestia Solaris Galaxia of the Sun,” Luna called.

The gate’s chains clicked off, and the gate swung open of its own accord. Lights and fireflies began to wink around the estate, drawing them towards the front door. Pensword slowly walked behind Luna as they entered the path.

“A good start,” Luna said quietly as they approached the mansion.

“Indeed, just … we should be ready,” he whispered as his eyes darted nervously around the grounds.

They found the doors locked however. A note was on the door stating that the master was away, but that they were welcome to explore the grounds as they desired.

“I guess we have to explore more around here.” Pensword paused. “But might want to put into her heart that the other two are welcome guests of the Crown as well, so we all can work on this on our own time.”

“Perhaps, Pensword, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Lead the way,” Luna said with a wave of her hoof.

Pensword nodded. While the grounds were expansive, the pair found nothing of interest. There did appear to be an invitation of sorts for a tea party at a later date that they took note of, however. It would prove a good excuse to enter the yard again, and was very much in character with Celestia’s drinking habits. Pensword yawned as they made their way back to the main portion of the estate’s grounds. “So, I guess we have our next step set,” he said.

The sound of chains suddenly filled the air around them as a strong presence pushed down, filling them with a sense of dread.

“Luna, I think we should be leaving now,” Pensword whispered as his fur and mane both stood on end.

“Agreed,” Luna said hastily as they turned for the gate.

Pensword picked up his pace into a trot, anxious to escape the sense of foreboding that clutched at his chest. “Let’s meet up with the others and inform them of what is happening right now.”

“That seems like a good plan,” Luna agreed as she picked up her pace to a canter. Thankfully, the rattling of the chains slowly receded, and ultimately faded to silence as they reached the familiar door that led to the Velvet Room. The presence that had haunted the pair had lifted, but Pensword still shook as he breathed deeply to recover himself.

“That could have gone better” she noted as they opened the door.

“Agreed.” Pensword paused as he took in the state of the Unicorn and Gryphon, who were currently resting by Track’s table. “Uh, okay, you two, what happened?”

“We managed to make a way in. Hopefully, it will still be there tomorrow,” Grif noted. “Also, I managed to defeat my shadow.” He twirled his new swords for emphasis.

“So, one less shadow, but that means more security. Tradeoffs, I guess,” Pensword sighed. “Still, for now, we have another problem.” And with that said, Pensword proceeded to describe what had happened at the mayor’s estate.

“So there’s some sort of ghost or something?” Vital asked.

“Or maybe a demon,” Pensword guessed.

“Hey, Igor, you have any idea what that was?” Grif asked as he turned to face the other Gryphon.

“The sound of chains and a presence unlike any other.” Igor chuckled briefly. “You most certainly encountered the Reaper.”

“Are we talking Death the reaper or something else here?” Vital asked.

Track opened up her book. “The Reaper is a balancing force of the cognitive world. Its duty is to keep the two worlds apart from each other,” she explained, before looking up at the group. “It must have caught on to your presence in the cognitive world, and is actively working to remove you.”

“And how long does it take to notice we’re here?” Grif asked.

“Anywhere between ten and twelve hours to the outside world, but with the distortions between, it is impossible to gauge.”

“Well, that will make things more complicated,” Grif sighed. “Still, if anything, today proved we can win this.”

“We’re going to have to face all of our shadow selves first, before going after the big bad, aren’t we?” Vital sighed.

“Makes sense. Take out the underlings and it makes it easier for us at the end,” Pensword noted.

“Even facing Clover?”

“I would rather not face her, if I could avoid it.”

“For now, we should focus on those of us that are left, if possible,” Luna interjected.

“I think we should focus on rest, more than anything else. I’ve got a feeling some Ponies are going to be asking for some remedies soon, once word gets round about my potion work, anyways, and I’m not about to try brewing anything without a proper night’s sleep,” Vital noted.

“Sounds like a plan,” Pensword agreed.

“Well then, let’s head in,” Grif said as he headed for the door. The rest of the party soon followed after.

---

When Pensword awoke from his nap at the campsite, he found himself alone. Once again, Luna and Grif were likely off on another hunt, and Vital was probably either asleep or brewing something up for the locals. He rose and stretched in his usual style, then groaned in pleasure as he heard the satisfying pop that was his spine and neck realigning. Next, he turned toward the fire pit, and blinked in surprise. There, on one of the stones he’d used to build the wall to shelter the pit, the sunlight glinted off two gold bits. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously and approached the coins. He looked every which way, swiveling his ears to listen for the slightest disturbance. Then his nostrils flared, and he shuddered in near-delight when he turned to a small cloth bag that had been laid next to the coins.

He quickly opened the bag with his teeth, and gasped at the sight of two dozen tea bags. Then he looked down and noticed the envelope. Once he’d lowered the bag and pocketed the bits, he picked up the letter, and opened it.

It’s not much, but I hope this helps. Stop by my office later. There are some things you should know. You won’t be held up. You have my vow.

Best Wishes,

Weather Master Storm Cloak

The Pegasus blinked in surprise as he read over the letter one more time, then put it back in its envelope, before returning to his normal morning routine. He opened the packs and pulled out a hunk of smoked meat. He was careful only to cut off a few slices, then laid them in a pan, before lighting the fire once more. He walked over to the tents to ensure the stakes had been properly anchored, while he waited for the flames to die down enough to cook with. Much to his surprise, he found no signs of the old patchy canvas that had covered their tents. Now, a brand new set replaced them. Beads of water rolled off them like jewels as the protective charms and treatments did their work. He laid a hoof to the fabric, and nodded as he felt the weave of the magic in the threads. It was definitely Weatherpony grade.

He frowned as he made his way back to the fire again, and cut a slice of bread to go with his meal, tossing it on top of the pan as well. He made a mental note to show the letter to Grif and Luna when they returned, then caught himself and shook his head as he laid the pan on the sticks and eyed the implement carefully. It was Gabriel and New Moon, while they were here, and he was Feather Blade. Vital was not Vital, but Yvetal. To allow himself to slip like that, even for a moment, could cost them dearly later on.

Then his stomach growled, and he returned to the task at hand. Yes, he couldn’t afford to slip, but he also couldn’t act very well on an empty stomach. And with that thought in mind, he tossed the contents of his pan a few times to ensure even heat distribution and smiled. “Just like old times,” he muttered to himself. Breakfast was almost ready.

---

“Excuse me, you’re asking for how much for these ingredients?” Yvetal balked at the trading stall owner.

“Twenty bits is the best I can offer,” the mare replied adamantly. “Some of these grow only in the Everfree, and it’s not cheap to gather.”

“That glimmer moss is hardly difficult to find. It grows near most willows by the water. And as for that snowdrop, I know for a fact it’s a natural repellent to most monsters, which means harvesting it has very little risk, especially if one uses its fragrance when passing through dangerous terrain,” the Unicorn argued.

“That may be the case, but you’re also asking for moonglow, which can only grow in a magic enriched location under a full moon. That’s usually only found in Thestral territory.”

“And that’s supposed to be a problem?” Yvetal countered. “They’re not exactly an unreasonable sort of folk, you know,” he said with a shrug. “I’ll give you thirteen bits for the lot. That’s still a good five bits over current market value back in Canterlot.”

The mare almost laughed. “Yeah, right. You’d be lucky to get twenty bits there.” She rolled her eyes. “Eighteen.”

“Fifteen, and not a bit higher.”

“Seventeen,” she huffed. “I’m already breaking even, so I’m not dropping any lower.”

Yvetal rubbed his chin as he considered the mare’s statement. “That is a fair point. I’d forgotten how Earth Ponies usually get the poor end of the stick on these deals.” He levitated eighteen bits onto the counter. “I hate to deny a hard working Pony a profit,” he said with a wink.

The mare grouped the ingredients together and placed them forward for Yvetal to grab as she collected the bits. “Until next time.”

“I’m looking forward to it.” Yvetal nodded respectfully to the mare, then turned to weave back through town. He chuckled to himself as he clopped along the street. “I wonder what rate Angela would charge in this age,” he mused as he made his way back towards the inn.

---

Pensword looked at Grif as the Gryphon watched the guards below from their vantage point on the edge of some tall chandeliers, thanks to a spare door Grif had found and managed to open with his lockpicking skills.

“How are you doing this? I feel you are getting away with stealth better, yet I still feel like we’re being watched,” Pensword said.

“It’s a castle inside the subconscious of Hammer Strike,” Grif responded. “On some level, we are being watched. But from what I can tell, there are limits to what can be noticed, and it all depends on speed,” Grif noted as he reached into his bag and retrieved a long length of corded rope tied to a metal loop. A small bladed dart with a steel barb had been connected to the other end. “Stay here,” he ordered. He swung the dart around a few times to gather momentum, before throwing it at one of the guards below them. The dart didn’t peirce any flesh, but the barb caught on the armor and pulled on the tunic below. Before the guard could react, Grif dropped to the floor on the other side of the chandelier. In a quick motion, the guard was pulled up and off the ground as his tunic and armor were pulled back against his throat, cutting off his air and crushing his windpipe. Pensword watched as the soldier convulsed, kicking and flailing in vain. Finally, he passed out from lack of air. A few seconds afterward, the corpse stopped twitching and started to fade. Grif threw the rope up to Pensword, before darting behind a pillar.

Pensword grabbed the rope and held onto it for the next move, having a feeling that if he tried to replicate Grif’s feat, he would raise the alarm. He sighed. At least he could hold the tool, so none of the other guards would see it.

Grif darted behind a pillar and signaled Pensword to point out the closest guard to his location. A few seconds later, Pensword motioned that the next guard was coming into line of sight and was open for another attack. A grin spread across his face at the fact that he was able to help. True, it was a bit foalish, but he just couldn’t help himself. Grif moved swiftly towards his target. Controlling his momentum and the air pressure around him allowed him to move near silently. He got an eye on the guard and waited patiently. When the target reached the opposite side of the pillar, he struck in a rapid movement, sticking a knife through a gap in the neck of the armor and plunging it through the jugular. Grif did his best to cushion his target’s fall to prevent noise, before moving back to another pillar. He dispatched two more with the same rapid efficiency. He drew his swords as the final target passed by. He walked straight up and sliced his opponent in the thigh, forcing him onto one knee, before placing both blades across his neck in a X formation and decapitating him. With the room officially cleared, he signalled Pensword to come down as the headless corpse fell.

Pensword flapped silently to the ground. “Grif, I feel like something is following us, and might be chuckling at what we did.”

“I wouldn’t doubt it. These were too easy. Felt like I was hunting rookies,” Grif noted as he looked over the now dead enemies for possible loot. He passed Pensword a set of pauldrons and boots, which became armored horseshoes, then decided to pocket the red orb for later.

“So, you finally figured it out,” a sepulchral voice spoke out from the walls. “So nice of you to help grow my army. You wouldn’t believe how hard it was to talk Hammer Strike into letting the rookies take over this wing.”

Pensword’s feathers bristled as his mane stood on end. “That….”

“Yes, yes, I sound like you. But I assure you, I am what you could have been if you had just learned from the beginning, instead of dragging your hooves like a little colt.” The voice chuckled, and its laughter reverberated through the halls. “Did you really think talking to the dead was our only trick? How would you like to give Mom a nice hug?”

Pensword was about to growl before he felt a hoof on his nose. And then it was gone with a familiar giggle. “That … that was–.”

“Whirlwind. Yes. With this power you have denied for so long, you could have had that and so much more. Take Triumph, for example. You could have really earned your name and had yourself a vengeance that would last an eternity, simply by binding the spirits of dead Gryphons to fight for you. And should you outlive your loved ones, well, they could always be at your side.”

Pensword looked uneasily around the room as the voice continued.

“You know you are nothing without others. Even before our little change to hooves, you felt alone more times than not. So, why not keep folks around? How about talking to your lost relatives about their stories? You wanted to know what happened to them, what happened to certain lost family treasures.…”

“Enough!” Pensword snapped. If there was one thing he couldn’t stand, it was when someone dared to claim greed as his motives. “That may be true, but what about what they want?”

“We only wanted to see our son grow up, and be a part of his life.” A transparent image of Iron Pen suddenly appeared next to Whirlwind and Moon Burn. A leathery wing ran down his mane as Moonbeam hummed in his ear.

Pensword sidestepped as a very patchworked looking image of Grif tried to stab him in the ribs. But the Gryphon’s movements were jerky, stiff, far too slow. Pensword was able to duck, weave, and step back. “So, I am a threat to you, after all. Why else would you use my family–” he reared to his hind hooves to avoid a ethereal dagger “–to take me down?” He shook his head. “But this is a perversion, a mockery of what I stand for and believe in.”

“Is that so?” The voice laughed. Then let’s have a little wager: My family against your family and friends.” The room began to shake, and the floor to writhe under their hooves. The supporting pillars dropped and shifted to create a vast open space lined with a checkerboard of white and black squares. “Beat me here, and you’ll open the way to face me directly. But if I beat you, I’ll make sure you won’t be able to enter this castle again for another three days. Tick Tock, Commander,” the voice said petulantly, insultingly. “Time is ticking away. After all, the more you use my gift, the weaker you will become.”

“Heh.” Pensword spat with a smirk as his eyes flicked around. “The thing is, with my field weaker than yours, I trained to compensate. I didn’t use that field to know you were trying to backstab.”

“Backstab?” the walls rumbled with rage. “You have come here to tear down what can be, what should be! All is fair in war!”

Pensword could only smile at this. “They who bluster and fight hardest usually have the most to hide. So, are we going to fight?”

Laughter echoed around the room. “Come and find me.” The stones began to rumble, and sixteen granite pillars rose at various points around the room, with one standing in each corner, and the rest forming two circles, one within the other. Tiles flipped and shifted in hue and shade, turning green, orange, purple, indigo, and so many more. “One pillar of these sixteen will open the path to me. Another will expel you automatically, and the others will spawn a monster of my choosing. So come, Pensword. Show me that brilliant mind of yours. Which one is the right one?”

Pensword flew up to observe the pillars more closely. “Look for a white five-pointed star in a flag. Any pillar with that will probably be a good place to start.” Then he stopped. “But, then again, he would know that. So, the real question I should be asking is how would I have used that logic against me or for me,” he mused to himself, even as he searched.

“Think, Pensword,” Grif snapped. “This isn’t you. This is Hammer Strike’s view of what you could be. What does he not know about you?”

“A few things, but he knows I love history,” Pensword answered. “How many times have I talked about the White Star Line, or ships, or the United States, or Nippon, or the United Kingdom, Normandy; should I go on?” He shook his head and sighed. “But, then again, you might be right. I should be thinking about this from Shawn’s point of view.” His eyes drifted back to where his family watched unmoving with unblinking eyes.

“Does sixteen hold any historical significance?” Grif asked.

“To me, no. Well, sixteen candles for a major birthday, or sixteen roses, as I learned in Jr. high school. It’s one of the names kids gives cystic fibrosis. I could construe the number to the sistine chapel, I suppose, but sixteen never really held much importance to me personally. It was just a number I would use in hopes of confusing folks and make them more likely to fail.” He cocked his head suddenly as he stared down at the pillars again. He flew up into the rafters and settled down to peer at the ground below. A series of blue tiles stretched from each of the pillars in a series of straight lines, transforming the pillars in the twin circles into the intersecting points on a pictogram.

“Grif, fly up here. Tell me what you see.”

Grif did so, and whistled. “The star of David. So what does it mean?”

Pensword raised a wing to shush the Gryphon. He peered carefully at the layout, then dove down to one of the pillars at a star point facing an empty wall. A series of images had been carved into the stone: a candlestick, a trumpeting human angel on a golden ball, and the familiar flag with the five-pointed star. His hoof drifted toward the symbol for a moment, and then his eyes fell to the bottom of the pillar, where a nondescript star stood beneath, with two points jutting upwards on the stone. A series of worn scratches patched around the symbol, and he smiled. He reached out and turned the crooked star, until the twin prongs were facing down and the single point facing up again. There was a loud clank and the candle’s flame flickered a baleful white. That white then dripped down the stick like a streak of wax, before continuing down to bisect the angel, the flag, and finally the righted star, before it touched the tile below. The tile exploded into bright light, and the room began to shake with the grinding of ancient gears. The sound of stone rumbling against stone resounded as the pilar betan to turn counterclockwise, slowly screwing into the ground as the tiles surrounding it began to drop.

“Impossible,” the voice hissed. That hiss soon rose to an fearsome roar of outrage. “How?”

“You made it too complicated, just like me, like my life. However, you put the star, which can mean many things, askew and at the bottom. By trying to hide it, you made it distinct. You drew my attention to it.”

There was no response from below as the shadows of the ghosts of Pensword’s family dissipated.

“Well, Grif, it looks like we have our way in,” Pensword said as he bore his fangs in a feral grin. “I really am starting to tick myself off.”

“Yeah, I know the feeling,” Grif said, following Pensword with a grim expression on his face. “Let's finish this.”

---

Vital sighed in relief as he heard the suit of armor clank past the door to the storage room. “That’s the tenth one. Hammer Strike must’ve really beefed up the security while we were out.”

“It’s little wonder, seeing as Grif managed to dispatch one of his agents,” Luna noted. She waited for a few breaths, then checked the halls. “I imagine the Shadow Grif’s death was a powerful loss.”

“Nice gain for the real Grif, though,” Vital said with a smirk. “So where do you want to go next?”

“We should try to find your double, wherever he may be.”

Well, if he’s supposed to be the epitome of me, he’ll probably have his own study. Either that or …” he gulped “... a place in the dungeons.”

“Yes, but if we are to have even a hope of beating my counterpart, I need you at your best.”

“Do you think she’ll really be that bad?”

“You realize she’ll be nightmare moon at her most powerful, correct?”

“And what was that like?” Vital asked curiously as he peeked out the door.

“I don’t know. She never got that far,” Luna admitted.

“Not even when you blocked out the sun the first time?”

“Not even close.” Luna shook her head.

Vital let out a low whistle. “Dang.”

“Lead the way,” Luna instructed.

The pair snuck through the halls, and eventually came to the tower door again. “Guess we’ll have to check the dungeon first,” he sighed. “I just hope I don’t throw up,” he muttered.

“I thought I was the princess here,” Luna remarked as they made their way to the stairs.

“You weren’t raised in a pacifist family with no real violence or bloodshed involved. Besides, this is Hammer Strike’s darker psyche we’re talking about. I’m betting there’s going to be things down there that make even yourstomach churn.”

“We shall see, Vital Spark,” Luna chuckled. “Now come on. Let’s get going, before the reaper shows up.”

“I thought that was only supposed to be in that village place,” Vital said as he snuck into the stairwell and began the descent.

“Do you wish to take the chance?”

“Probably not, given this plane kinda sucks our energy.”

“So lead on, Vital Spark. I have your back.”

“Eegads. She’s got me!” Vital whispered back playfully, then sighed as they continued their journey, until they reached the familiar hallway. The metal door was cracked, as it had been before, only this time there was no sign of screaming, and the light was dim. Only a series of low whimpers and sniffles reached their ears. Vital paused at the door and sighed. “I really wish we didn’t have to do this.”

“That won’t change the fact we do have to do it,” Luna retorted. Then Vital pressed against the heavy door and they entered the torture chamber.

A chill seeped out from the stones as they passed through the chamber. They didn’t look when the squelching sounded beneath their hooves. Vital hoped it was moss. Luna knew better. The scent of soot and smoke emanated for a wide opening, which was the most likely source of the light when they had first arrived there as a group. “It’s too dim in here. Luna, can you use your night vision, or do I need to mix up another bottle light?” Vital whispered.

“Best mix it up anyway, in case we get separated.”

Vital nodded mutely as he levitated the bottles out of his bag and mixed up the concoction once more. The whimpering increased sharply at the sound of his magic, and Vital grit his teeth. “It’s not going to be pretty, is it?” he asked, motioning down to the yawning blackness of a branching hallway.

“Best take short glances,” Luna agreed. “Hammer Strike knows a great deal about torture.”

“I could tell,” Vital said as he motioned towards a long, cold table made from rigid steel. Blood spatters and other stains had dried onto its surface, and the restraints had been dyed black from the many prisoners that had struggled to break those bonds. He swallowed heavily, then pressed on down the hall.

“So where would you be in all this?”

“If this is Clover’s office, and Hammer Strike is making a perfect version of me, I’d probably have one of my own, and a lab where I’d … experiment on subjects.”

“Any idea what to look for?”

“Well, this is supposed to be a darker version of me, so probably any signs of a trap designed to immobilize prey while making them exceedingly uncomfortable. He probably knows we’re coming, too, since he’ll likely have mastered his thaumaturgy. Though that might at least be somewhat of an advantage to us, since my aspects basically balance each other out.”

The pair took a short walk down the path to the next portion of the dungeon, where a broad circular stone chamber greeted them. A large iron maiden towered ahead of them, built to fit the largest of Minotaurs to the smallest of Ponies. Manacles and shackles hung from the walls, clinking mournfully as the drafts from the dungeon moved them. A set of tables much like the first greeted their gaze, though these appeared to be cleaner, and had a seam to them. A closer examination revealed just why as Vital noticed the mechanism to adjust the table. A set of tongs and other tools sat in a bucket on a table nearby, waiting for their owners’ touch. A large tub sat off to the side, filled almost to the brim with water. A chair stood on the other side, with a sort of cage built into it. Spikes jutted inwards to poke at the victims, and fresh scorch marks by the seat indicated the coals that had once been there to burn the victim and make him or her squirm, thus striking the spikes.

“Well, this is … homey,” Luna said as she scanned the room.

“This is just the tip of the iceberg, Luna. We haven’t even seen the psychological torture, let alone the drugs and poisons.” Vital shuddered. “I hope we never have to.”

“Said from one who’s never been on either side of those psychological tortures,” Luna laughed. “Oh, the things I’ve lived through.”

“Reading fictional accounts is enough for me, Luna. I’d rather not have to go through it myself.”

“Yes, I’m sure,” Luna sighed wistfully as they moved forward. Shadows and memories of wars fought and won played through her head. “It should be enough for anypony.”

---

Pensword looked up at the vaulted ceiling of the caverns, then back to Grif as torches burst into life, revealing reliefs filled with carvings from Pensword’s life and adventures. He kept his ears in motion, but the only thing they heard was the whispering of the winds. At least Pensword hoped it was just the wind. “Grif … what do you feel?” he asked hopefully

“I feel the breeze, but it feels wrong, fake, like it’s being made to lead us on,” Grif noted.

“I know, but this unnerves me. It feels like the crypts. That leads me to wonder. If that’s the case, then why am I in charge of the tombs, vaults, and graves, when I’m supposed to be the commander?”

“Well, right now, you can speak to spirits. Have you ever wondered what the greatest thaumic expression of this power is?” Grif asked.

“Grif, I respect the dead. At the moment, I’m working on improving what I have. So, while I am curious, I haven’t given it much thought.”

"Hammer Strike’s version of you isn't going to let something so soft as morality hold him back,” Grif noted. “He’ll bring the dead back to use as thralls, if he thinks it’s an advantage.”

“A thrall?” Pensword shuddered in horror. “That’s just horrible. Keeping those from their rest against their will?” He took a deep breath, then slipped into the shadows cast around a set of heavy stone doors. Pensword’s cutie mark was carved over the middle of the frame, with a moon above and the sun below. As the two drew close, the doors swung open ponderously to reveal a vault lined with torches along the walls and a great chandelier spanning over much of the ceiling reminiscent of the one from Phantom of the Opera. A series of large stone sarcophagi stood in neat rows leading up to a gothic throne-like stone chair.

Pensword stared up at his shadow, taking in the measure of his form and stature as he stared coldly out from his throne. The shadow’s left eye was covered by a bloody eye patch. The barest edges of a scar shone on either edge of the piece. The other eye burned a baleful yellow that glowed with cold malice. His fur was muted, and his open-face helmet cast a shadow over his muzzle as his mane shoved out through the crest in stone-like rigidity. A dark plate armor covered his torso and chest and a scarlet cape draped down over his back to flow across the throne like rivulets of blood.

“So, my little sniveling shadow has come to play with me. I wonder if I could claim your soul when you die here.” The doors slammed shut as Grif was suddenly blown back by the ghosts of Gryphons past. “Let your little friend play with mine. This battle is between you and me. Come now, and face your fate.” The sound of swords being drawn sounded and already ghosts were dissipating left and right.

Pensword stepped back and used his wings to propel him away as Lightning struck where he had stood moments before. He didn’t speak as he hid in the shadows. He closed his eyes as he tried to come up with a plan.

“So, you seek the shadows for protection? How very cowardly of you,” Shadow Pensword taunted. “I thought you were a commander.” He stood on the throne, smiling, but the smile faltered for a second as a ghost shot out from the shadows briefly, then faded into nothing. “So, trying to steal from me now, too, are you? My, you are bold. But why not try it out in the open?”

“I fight from the shadows. I use all my tools or have you forgotten?” Pensword’s voice came from behind. The shadow barely had the time to react. He quickly bent over backwards, seizing Pensword by the barrel and flipping him over his head. But that proved to be a mistake as Pensword held firmly, using the momentum to pull his shadow along for the ride. The two tumbled together across the floor as Grif roared his anger at the ghostly combatants.

Pensword managed to land a lucky blow to his shadow’s helmet, dazing the Pony long enough to get back up and hide in the shadows of the alcoves once more.

Shadow Pensword roared in rage. “No more shadows!” he bellowed as flickering baleful blue flames suddenly popped into existence, drifting along the crypt’s walls. Their gentle light caused the shadows to retreat, until the stone swords that had been resting on the coffins suddenly leapt to life, slashing at the things with such force as to snuff them out. “How?” Shadow Pensword snarled. “No one can destroy my will-o-wisps!”

He roared as he lightning lunged out from his body like javelins, seeking anything and everything that would prove a worthy conductor. Unfortunately, Pensword proved unable to dodge, as he was still recovering from the exertions he had set to attack the wisps in the first place. He collapsed to the ground, writhing as the electricity arced through his nervous system.

“Such a pity, isn’t it?” Shadow Pensword gloated. “All that armor you have picked has made you such a wonderful conductor. Though I have to admit, I’m surprised you haven’t died outright. That strike should have gone straight for your soul. I wonder, could that mean you don’t have a soul to break in the first place?” he sneered.

Pensword stuttered to his hooves and managed to drag himself behind a pillar. His body still twitched and shook against his will, but at least he still had some control of his faculties. Moments later, a torrent of water slammed into his side, crushing him against the wall. A loud crack sounded in his ears and Pensword was certain he would have been in immense pain were it not for the fact his nerves were still jumbled from the electrical overload. He gathered what strength he could, before breaking into a run to find better cover. Unfortunately, he didn’t get far as ghostly hooves tripped him up, sending him sprawling to the ground.

“Not so tough now, are you?” Pensword’s shadow gloated. Pensword looked down at a dagger he didn’t remember clutching before as he blinked the water from his eyes, and a hint of a smile pulled at his lips.

“Let’s see if the mighty Pensword can take down my soldiers,” Shadow Pensword sneered as the sarcophagi slowly grated open. Decaying flesh and frigid bone rose in a flood as corpse after corpse emerged to tumble onto the floor, before lurching towards the Pegasus with dreadful, hungry moans.

Pensword felt a familiar sensation clutching at his chest as he hissed his frustration. “Zombies. Why did it have to be zombies?” He looked around desperately. Knowing his opponent, he likely wouldn't be allowed the reprieve of flight, not with those lightning bolts the shadow could hurl at a moment’s notice. And he would only be able to run for so long before the creatures caught up with him or dealt a blow that would seal a fate worse than death. No, if he was to get out of this mess, the only choice was to defeat the horde, and to do that, he would need a better weapon than a flintlock or rifle.

His gaze finally fell on an old rusty sword left to corrode by one of the sarcophagi. It was probably brittle, and wouldn’t get many swings, but it was better than nothing. He dove for it, evading biting teeth and grabby hooves to finally seize his prize. He knew the need for the divine to counter the undead. However, he had no blessed objects on him, and all of Grif’s holy items had been left behind in the physical plane. No, in this case, he had little choice in the matter.

He extended the sword to face his adversaries, then planted it into the floor. The cross hilt reached outward in front of him like a shield, albeit a rather poorly kept one. And then he began to speak in the language of his ancestors, the language his grandmother had taught him and her mother before her and her mother before her back through the corridors of time to the very beginning. His head remained bowed, his eyes closed in solemn reverence as the prayer rose in a fervent chant.

“Pray all you like. It won’t make a difference.” Pensword’s shadow laughed as the mob drew closer. So sure of himself was he, that he didn’t even notice as flecks of rust began to fall away and tiny rivulets of silver seemed to writhe beneath the surface. The room began to brighten somewhat, and a beam of silver light appeared, seemingly from nowhere, to grace the blade. Pensword smiled as the sword began to glow. The rust shucked off like so much dead skin. Pensword’s smile widened.

And the shadow suddenly noticed. “Stop that,” he hissed. “Stop that chanting!” the order reverberated through the crypt as he turned his gaze on the corpses. “What are you waiting for, already? Kill him!”

Grif smiled as he plunged Vengeance into another ghost and it dispersed on the blade. Gryphon runes glowed brightly as he fought onwards. Enchanted dragonbone cleaved through spirit like flesh and blood. Pensword would handle this, Grif had faith in that much.

The light from the sword grew brighter and brighter as Pensword’s voice carried into the darkness of the crypt, and the corpses shuddered as their advance slowed, and ultimately stopped. Pensword snapped his eyes opened and flourished the blade, carving a glowing circle that ignited with light. The room was ablaze as unearthly screams raged across the room. Those screams soon dropped to whimpers, and finally to a long, drawn out sigh. The light cleared, and Pensword found himself standing alone in a chamber bereft of any sign of the undead.

“I probably should have told you. I took holy vows before I came on this journey.” He smiled as he placed the blade point down on the stones again. “So, how does it feel, knowing that I have the power to level the playing field? How does it feel knowing that I can send your undead to the other side with a few words? How does it feel knowing that I have power over thee?”

“Your power is nothing!” Shadow Pensword snapped angrily. He sent the last remains of the water flooding out of the basin to distract Pensword as he summoned more ghosts to strike at the Gryphon. Then he drew a pistol, not the flintlock Pensword carried, but a legitimate pistol. He fired twice, sending lances of pain into Pensword’s side.

“Oh, I know it is,” Pensword snarled through the pain as he kept himself standing through sheer will power alone. “That’s why I have others to help me. That is why I rely on the blessings of the moon. And she has not disappointed me on this day. And that, that is what makes the difference between us. I embraced my heritage. I understand the sanctity of the night, the peace it provides, the importance it holds for us and our heritage. You?” He chuckled hoarsely. “You have taken on the trappings of a Pegasus general leading a Unicorn army.”

Pensword’s shadow roared as he reared on his hind legs, lashing at the air, before charging in a reckless gallop. Pensword rolled to the side at the last minute, even as he bit his lip to keep from screaming. He watched in satisfaction as the shadow crashed head-first into a pillar.

“It wasn’t nice, what you did to my brother and sister. Isn’t it amazing, what miracles can come to pass through the power of prayer.”

“You took my family!” Shadow Pensword charged again, and Pensword stepped calmly to the side as the now half-mad Pegasus crashed against one of the sarcophagi.

“No. They’re not your family anymore. You stopped seeing them that way a long time ago. You bound them to your will with chains, trapped them here, anchored them to this plane against their will. You used them like tools, forcing them to spy for you, hunt for you, kill for you.” He shook his head. “Not anymore.” He raised the sword again. “Merciful goddess, who watches over the eternal sleep, empower my sword that I may be an instrument of deliverance once more.” The sword blazed, this time with brilliant white light. He flung it at the throne, where it embedded itself into the carving of a Pony skull with soulless sockets. A series of cracks ran in lines and spread out from the rendering, until the whole seat was alight with cracks. And then it exploded with a sudden detonation. A shrill chorus of raspy screams tore through the air as a pulsing black mass writhed beneath the impalement from the sword. It burst apart with a final scream of agony that trailed off into silence, leaving the sword to clatter to the floor.

Pensword’s shadow cried out in rage and horror. “What have you done?”

“What you should have a long time ago. Did you really think I wouldn’t see where the chains led? I may have weakened, but I am far from blind.” He raised his voice and cried at the top of his lungs. “Hear me, ye spirits of the dead, you who have yearned for rest and been denied. Hear me, and know that thou art free. Turn upon the defiler and the moon shall grant you the rest you deserve!” He turned to glare at his shadow. “I am obliged to say may the gods have mercy on your soul,” he began, “but I think we both know none of them will.”

The wind that had been whispering so gently before sudden rose into a mighty squall. Sobs, wails, shrieks, and roars mingled and crashed again and again like the waves of the sea. White lights, silhouettes, faint images, and more flooded into the room from every corner, phasing through walls, flooding through the entrance, bursting through coffins and sarcophagi as they circled round the chandelier like a whirlpool. And all the while, the light from its crystals grew stronger and stronger.

Pensword’s shadow roared as he struck at the spirits, lashing with his hooves, striking with his wings, sizzling with lightning and gusts of air to no avail. His angry cries soon turned to screams of terror as the mob surrounded him. Feathers were pulled, blood was drawn, and still the shadow fought. Finally, seeing nothing else worked, he pulled out a crystal bound to a chain around his neck. It was shaped like a cartoon skull. He breathed deeply, and the crystal disappeared. The ghosts suddenly vanished, and the shadow dropped to the ground beneath the great light.

Before he could have the chance to recover, Pensword raced forward and kicked his shadow in the back. Then he reared up and slammed his hooves down on the only unprotected place he could manage to reach, the shadow’s skull. There was a loud double crack, a sickening snap, and finally a shattering mixed with a squelch not unlike one hears when wringing a sponge. Pensword didn’t bother looking down as the shadow began to dissipate. He turned, instead to Grif.

Grif nodded his approval as he stood calmly and sheathed his swords. There was no sign of ghost, ghoul, or zombie. The room was truly empty. Pensword looked up at the chandelier as the last of the supernatural light began to fade. The shadows of his family smiled in gratitude as they faded away.

“That,” he spat, “was horrible.” He paused, however, as he turned to behold the last dregs of his shadow forming up into an armored cape, a familiar helmet, and heavily armored horseshoes. A sharp tomahawk and six throwing daggers on wires finished the ensemble. “Let’s loot his personal chest for anything of value, before heading back up top, okay?”

“Yeah, you put that armor on,” Grif agreed. “You’ll need the boost after that.”

“Happy to know that the old mare tales of only the weapon of the dead could defeat the dead, otherwise, I would have never gotten past the will-o-wisps. Amazing he didn’t know or forgot that old tale.”

“Hammer Strike likely didn’t know,” Grif noted.

“Well, I guess it’s a good thing it worked for me, then,” Pensword answered with a sigh of relief. “Come now. Let us….” He moved up and when he touched the chest he began to laugh. “They’re empty.” He sighed, then winced as he clutched at his side. “Okay, I think I’m ready to go home and sleep now. Is that okay with you, Grif?”

Grif chuckled. “Yeah, Pensword. Let’s get out of here.”

---

After much searching, Luna and Vital Spark found themselves standing before a hidden doorway attached to the iron maiden. A low moan echoed through the darkness of the gaping maw, and Vital Spark shuddered at the damp chill that flowed out of the gap.

“Is it wrong for me to wish we hadn’t discovered this passage?” Vital asked timidly.

“No, though I imagine it would have taken us much longer, if we hadn’t,” Luna noted.

Vital sighed. “So now we need to find where my other self’s study is. Or I guess my other other self,” he chuckled.

“No, it wouldn’t be.” Luna shook her head. “Hammer Strike is unaware of that entity.”

“I know, Luna. I was referring to the fact that I have him in my head, and then there’s this other version of me Hammer Strike made that we have to find, too.” He chuckled. “It’s not funny, and yet I’m laughing anyway. Guess it means I’m nervous. Doesn’t exactly help when the idiot’s mocking me.” He shrugged. “No use in complaining though, I guess.” Their hoofsteps echoed almost deafeningly in the passage. “So where do we go from here? Should we just search for the coldest place in here? Or do you think there’s some other way we might be able to figure out where to find this shade?”

“I’m at a disadvantage here. This is not the dream realm,” Luna noted.

“Then I guess we’ll just have to keep our ears open.” Then he promptly facehoofed and swore.

“What is it?” Luna asked, a little alarmed by the action.

“Luna, he knew about Aria. She’s a hatchling. She needs–” a loud, angry screech tore through the corridor “–feeding,” he faltered. “Considering the nature the shadow Hammer Strike induced in his version of Clover, I wouldn’t put it past his version of me to use … fresher meat.” He swallowed heavily. “What better way to get rid of a body after the torture kills them?”

“True, though that is a sign of sloppy work,” Luna nodded. “Any good torturer never needlessly kills a subject.”

“Unless they take pleasure in it, and Hammer Strike doesn’t care,” Vital said softly.

“But Hammer Strike would care,” Luna protested. “He appreciates skill and a job well done.”

“And if they’re spies or traitors?”

“Then what better way to send a message to those who would send spies after you or coerce others from you than by sending a message with their screams?”

“In a sealed secret portion of the dungeon?”

“I was taught that death is a mercy we give our enemies on the battlefield. In the dungeon, less mercy saves lives.”

A withered hoof sudden reached out to grab at Luna’s wing. “P-please, help me,” the Pony wheezed. As Vital Spark drew nearer, he saw the stumpy remains of a horn. The Pony’s coat was ragged and unwashed, his mane gnarled with knots. A red-stained cloth band wrapped around his head to cover his eyes. The cutie mark was too faded to make a proper identification, though it looked like a hint of a sun could barely be made out in the light.

“Shhh, shhh. Sleep now. The nightmare is over,” Luna said soothingly as her horn lit up. The Pony slowly calmed down, before moving sluggishly to the straw that served as his bed. He laid down, and gently fell asleep. A few minutes after that, his breathing stopped, and he faded away.

“Starvation, dehydration, forcing them to live in their own filth. Why do I get the feeling that may have been a solar noble?”

“It may have been. Hammer Strike, after all, abhors what the nobility have become,” Luna noted. “Still, most of this torture is very rookie.”

“Then I guess it has to be me. It seems murphy has a peculiar tendency to make me fail at various intervals. It must have carried over to this shadow me, too.”

“Well, there are worse things to be bad at,” Luna pointed out.

“Good point.” Vital chuckled. “Though if it were really me, I probably would’ve gone with giving them frostbite bit by bit, just enough for them to feel the pain, and then restoring them in the worst way possible to increase the pain of it. Not that I’m into that sort of thing, but it seems like an excellent means to start off the session,” he pointed out clinically as they pressed on. No sign of any traps had appeared just yet, which meant either the torturer didn’t expect anyone to dare to enter, or the way had been left open deliberately.

Eventually, they arrived at a thick wooden door. Vital opened it to reveal a brightly lit office room with an ornate desk at its center. Cells surrounded the circumference of the room. Some of them held shelves of various artifacts, potions, or poisons. Others held reagents. Others still held various lab equipment and bookshelves. Another held a blood-encrusted operating table with pristine implements and a series of jars filled with organs. Various mechanical amalgamates sat lined up on a metal platter, waiting for some action they didn’t know.

A familiar teal-streaked mane flowed down a certain clever mare’s back over a set of black robes. Blood-red horseshoes stood planted firmly on the stone floor as she addressed a prim-looking Earth Pony with peach-colored fur and silver hair that brushed around her cheeks, curving inward. A smart little oblong navy cap curved between her ears, and two sets of navy boots covered her front and back hooves. The front ones seemed to be made from a finer material, and moved more easily with her forehooves, while the back ones were sturdy and more functional, reaching up to her knees. A navy blue sleeveless dress clung tightly to her body as it stretched back along her frame. A series of black circles with white buttons at the center ran in a straight line down the front, and a familiar leatherbound book sat on her back as she spoke with the shadow.

“I was merely addressing how unimposing you are,” the mare commented with a soft smile. “After all, you are just taking after the shape of a Pony.”

“You know nothing about me,” the shadow Clover responded, firing off several blasts of dark magic at her opponent which seemed to collide with the air just before her.

“Quite the contrary. I find your existence to be unique. As a shadow created by a shadow, it is almost a miracle that you have some sense of consciousness,” the mare commented as the leather book on her back floated to her front, opening as she glanced at the pages. “But I must admit, while I was hoping this interaction would serve some purpose for me, it has not.”

The pages of her book turned as she glanced over them, only to stop suddenly as she glanced up to Shadow Clover. “Let us see. How about ... Megidola?” As the words left her mouth, a blinding flash of light shone over shadow Clover, and as quickly as it appeared, it vanished, leaving no trace of shadow Clover behind. The mare frowned as she looked to the floor where the shadow had once stood. “How disappointing. I was hoping for more.”

“... That was scary,” Vital Spark finally managed to say.

“Oh,” the mare turned suddenly as she noticed Vital and Luna for the first time. “Are you two my next opponents?”

“Shouldn’t we be asking you that? You have the same eyes as every creature of this world. How do we know this battle isn’t a ruse to lower our guards?” Luna pulled Vital behind her.

The mare chuckled. “Please, do not group me together with these beings. I am here to investigate this strange occurrence within a potential guest.”

“We are here at the behest of Lord Igor, to defeat the shadow laying waste to our friend’s mind,” Luna noted.

“Lord Igor?” a puzzled look crossed her face, before she suddenly gasped in realization. “Ah, I understand. Though it is quite odd for my master to summon those who do not have the potential. In fact, it is almost unheard of.”

“It seems, then, that we are no enemy of yours, and you likewise are no enemy of ours,” Luna noted.

“With that out of the way, would you mind answering a question of mine?”

“Perhaps, after I’ve heard it,” Luna responded evenly.

“How do you intend to save your friend’s mind?”

“By defeating the shadow that’s attempting to control it. You did call it a shadow, right? As far as we can tell, that shadow is the reason why our friend can’t recall his true memories. And without those, the future of the other world is in jeopardy,” Vital explained as he stepped out from behind Luna.

“My, that sounds like it will be quite an interesting fight.” The mare chuckled. “A shame. I was looking forward to investigating his shadow as well.”

“I take it that means you intend to leave this cognitive plane, then?”

“Oh, goodness, no. I have not had this much fun since the last guest!”

“Vital,” Luna whispered, “I have the feeling this person is one card short of a cheese sandwich.”

“Luna, does it really matter, if she can handle herself?”

“We should take our leave as soon as we see an opening. Such ones can be … inconsistent.”

“She won’t hurt us, Luna. It would mean going against her master’s will.”

“Still.” Luna turned to the mare. “If you have no more questions, we have much more hunting to do, Miss….”

“Oh, forgive me. I am Keeper Eliz, and I am utterly neglecting my duties.”

“And I am Princess Luna. I don’t suppose you have seen a shadow resembling my companion in your journey?”

“I believe I saw a shadow such as him somewhere on the second floor. If I recall correctly, he was muttering something about intruders and homework.”

“... Wow. Do I really whine that much?” Vital sweatdropped.

“Some say that shadows are the utmost honest in their view of others,” Keeper smiled. “Though the same does not apply to shadows that lie, of course.”

“And I take it you’ve encountered both before?”

“Of course. Powerful shadows are unique, and I enjoy studying them in detail, including their physical strength.”

“Including or particularly?” Vital asked as his brow rose quizzically.

“Particularly,” Keeper chuckled. “One day, I hope to find a glue to granting a wish of mine lying within these powerful shadows.”

“I’m sorry, glue?”

“Flu?” Keeper looked puzzled for a moment. “Influenza...?” She shrugged. “Something along those lines, at any rate.”

“I’m going to take a shot in the dark here, and guess you mean clue.”

“In any case, I must be off. While this shadow was interesting, her power was disappointing. But I suppose that makes sense with a shadow created by a shadow.” She turned from the group towards another doorway. “Until next time!”

“Um … is there going to even be a next time?”

Before he could finish the statement, Keeper had already left the group alone, traveling off on her own.

“To the second floor, then?” Luna asked.

“Unless you wanted to raid this place for potential alchemical materials. We do have that option of creating new items back at the velvet room, if we have the right ingredients,” Vital pointed out.

“Thats was not the task we set out for,” Luna pointed out.

“Luna, it never hurts to be prepared. That being said, I suppose facing the other me is more important right now, since he moves around, and may not remain there for long, whereas we can always come back here later to search for said materials when we’re not so rushed.” He nodded. “Let’s get going, then.”

“To the second floor!” Luna announced as they started the long slog back up.

About five or ten minutes later, the pair were busy climbing the stairwell back up the tower. “You know, it’s really weird being back up here again,” Vital said as he looked farther up to the path that led to the parapets. “I mean, we snuck in here the first night, didn’t we?”

“Yes,” Luna said. “It seems to be a frequent point for us.”

“I guess now we have to figure out where this other me would have gone.”

“The library?”

“Considering this me was complaining about homework, I’m guessing he probably wouldn’t have gone there, but I suppose it’s as good a place as any to start.” Vital shrugged. “Now it’s just a matter of finding the right door.”

Through what had to be an absolute miracle, and a lot of last minute saves by Luna, the pair finally managed to find a door that took them to the library. As it had been with the torches along the halls, the lanterns and chandeliers that lined this great room also pulsed blue. A veritable maze of shelves stretched on and on, leaving both Ponies to gape at what, for all intents and purposes, should have been impossible.

“I’m betting on either time lord tech or some sort of manipulation via thaumic crystals. Luna, what do you think?” Vital asked.

“We are in a mental projection of Hamer Strike’s cognitive process, Vital Spark. The terrain can change at the drop of a bit.”

“Doesn’t mean it wouldn’t be grounded in some form of magic or science. This is supposed to be his idea of a perfected and efficient library at its full potential, right?”

“Such a library would, in my estimation, be maneuverable to make hunting for specific material easier.”

“Forbidden texts on necromancy?” Vital asked the library. Nothing happened. He shrugged. “Figured it was worth a shot.”

“I doubt we have clearance,” Luna said.

“So, any idea where the shadow me might go for his homework?”

“Where would you go?”

“Depends on the assignment.” Vital shrugged. “Usually, I just studied out of the resources Clover gave me, since the library at New Unity isn’t exactly at its full potential right now. I guess the me here would probably be grabbing the book he wants, before taking a seat to study, or maybe going to a practice area inside the library to put a spell into effect for an experiment?”

“Then the question is how we get there.”

“Running along the top of the shelves?”

“Possible,” Luna admitted.

“Hundreds of books line the shelves, perhaps thousands,” Hammer Strike’s voice echoed around them, followed by a sigh. “Why couldn’t any of it pertain to these unknown materials? Instead, it is bound by my own knowledge…”

“Hmm. That gives me an idea for what we might be looking for.”

“Yes?” Vital asked. “And please don’t tell me it’s Hammer Strike.” He shuddered. “I really don’t want to face that guy again.”

“Grif defeated his counterpart. It’s entirely likely Hammer Strike sent yours to review his plans for killing you. Perhaps that's where he is now,” Luna noted.

“I doubt that would be in an area that’s easy to access, considering this library is an embodiment of Hammer Strike’s mind. Those kinds of plans would be held in a restricted section, probably under heavy guard.” He tapped his chin as he pondered the situation. “This library is more vast than what we have at New Unity, but assuming its layout is similar, then the forbidden section should be somewhere in the Far corner, out of the way.”

“This way,” Luna said, starting off in a random direction.

“Are you trying to use your magic to probe the fabric of this section of Hammer Strike’s cognition?” Vital asked as he noted the slight glow to the princess’ horn.

“No, I am taking the path to the right and hoping I get lucky, just like Hammer Strike taught me to do.”

“Isn’t that just for mazes? Or was that supposed to be keeping left? I always have trouble remembering that one right.”

Luna turned to him, looked him in the eyes, and said sternly, “Always go right.”

Vital winced. “Point taken.”

“Now then, onwards and upwards, as the good Doctor says.” And without waiting, Luna began in her chosen direction.

Vital sighed and rolled his eyes. “In for a penny, in for a pound. All right, then. Allons-y,” he replied as he followed behind. “Do you want to mark, or should I?”

“It’s your double,” Luna returned.

“I meant mark where we’ve been, Luna,” Vital deadpanned. “This library is a maze, after all.”

“It will let us out when our work is done. Hammer Strike wouldn’t find satisfaction in locking us in here.”

“Are we talking your teacher or the shadow of him?”

“If we starve to death, he never proves himself the superior warrior. Hammer Strike is pragmatic, but not at the expense of his reputation.”

“Even if we end up killing his commanding officers one at a time?”

“Then our challenge grows.”

“You’re speaking from personal experience, aren’t you?”

“Would I be taking the chance, if not?”

Vital looked pensively at her for a time. “No. No, I don’t think you would.”

The corridors stretched on for what felt like an eternity. Books upon books stacked on either side, some covered in leather or bound weave, others in a flashy paperback cover. “Hey, look, he has manga in here,” Vital said. “I knew he couldn't really have forgotten it all.”

“Concentrate, Vital Spark. You have a battle to win,” Luna said.

“Yeah … this is gonna suck.” Vital sighed. “For all of me wanting to be able to contribute with everything, I still hate fighting.”

“Then you are a sadist,” Luna said simply.

“... Pretty sure this isn’t a fetish, Luna,” Vital deadpanned. Then he grimaced. “I wasn’t talking to you,” he grated softly.

“If you don’t fight this fight, this shadow takes over Hammer Strike and it will wreak insurmountable pain and havok on the world. You dread a fight that will stop a war later on. Therefore, you are dreading stopping the pain of countless others. The opposite of this would be joy. Thus, I can only assume you would have joy in this pain being inflicted, and that would be sadism.”

Vital shook his head. “How little you know me, Luna,” he sighed. “Thanks for the attempt at psyching me up psychologically, though. The thought is appreciated.”

“It’s merely an observation. The world is made up of sadists or masochists,” Luna shrugged. “The sadists sit back and let others suffer at the hands of others. They don’t lift a hoof to stop it. They simply act as though their noncombatance is helping, when all it is is to turn the head and act like nothing is wrong. Masochists like myself enjoy stepping in between and taking the pain on ourselves, so that it would not be felt by the undeserving. Thus, we take joy from our harm, and others enjoy seeing others come to harm.”

“So, you don’t necessarily enjoy the battle itself, just the thought of protecting others?”

“Oh, I do enjoy the battle, but that is because of genetic manipulation to a ridiculous level. My nervous system is rigged to reward me for the battlefield,” she said offhandedly.

“So it’s basically either sit and wait stupidly while others suffer or try to do what I can to stop said suffering from happening.”

“Precisely,” Luna nodded.

“Oh, this is gonna suck,” Vital groaned.

“Thus is life, and then you expire.”

“I take it you feel the tough love application is needed here more than your usual advice,” Vital deadpanned as they finally passed through the last weaving shelves to reach a massive stone vault door on swinging hinges. Skulls, bones, coffins, and other symbols pertaining to death had been intricately carved in reliefs along the edges of the frame, and cold blue fire burned from within. “Well, nothing says foreboding like skulls, bones, and a bunch of other dead things,” Vital said glibly.

“Go on,” Luna said as she nudged him ahead. “This is supposed to be your battle, remember?”

As the pair approached, the eyes in the skulls glowed red, and their mouths suddenly cracked open, raining down pebbles and dust, followed by a thick white mist that descended in a heavy curtain over the portal. “I’m getting a distinct feeling of deja vous from this, but I’m not entirely certain why,” Vital said with a frown as he passed beneath it. He shivered as the breathy air brushed over his body.

The door slammed shut behind him, and Vital reared in surprise, before letting out a startled whinny. After he got his breathing under control again, he turned around to stare at the door and sighed. “So … no way to retreat, and the element of surprise is now totally gone. Thanks, Luna.”

Vital passed on through the corridor, following the path deeper into the vault. His hoofsteps echoed hollowly over the ground as he pressed on. If there was one thing he knew about Hammer Strike, it was that he could be brutally efficient when he wanted to be. And considering the practicality Vital had shown on previous occasions, he was almost certain this other self would likely follow a similar tactic. Vital drew Watcher out and felt the reassuring flow of the magic stores he’d placed in the pearl. At the very least, the energy he’d tucked away could serve to bolster his reserves, and possibly level the playing field.

Finally, the passage rounded a corner to enter a titanic rotunda. Shelves upon shelves of books circled around them in a towering wall lined by a series of intermittently spaced silver ladders with bevelled triangular etching. A large stone plinth stood on the far end of the room, and a familiar white-furred Unicorn’s magic had just died away as he stepped aside to reveal a familiar leather-bound volume. His yellow eyes were hungry as he stared Vital Spark down.

“I wondered how long it would take you to buck up the courage to face me.” The shadow chuckled, even as his mouth split open into a manic grin. “Oh, and thanks for killing Clover, by the way. That bitch had it coming. I was hoping to do it myself, but … well, I suppose I did do it myself, now, didn’t I?”

“Vital Spark, I assume?”

“The one and only. Well, soon to be one and only. So, tell me, what finally convinced you to come and face me yourself?”

“Would you believe a pushy princess who thinks I have to face my own demons alone?” Vital said as he began to circle the room.

Shadow Vital let loose a throaty chuckle. “Might’ve known Doctor Moon would have something to do with it.”

“She does have millennia of experience dealing with psychology.”

“Oh, I know. I do so admire her work. The way she crushes a prisoner’s mind, how easily she can plunge it into insanity.” He licked his lips lustilly. “Delicious.”

“Well somebody’s got a sadistic streak.”

“And you don’t?”

“I prefer to keep mine in check. It takes a lot to get me to the point where I let it show. Control usually works out better, especially if you plan to be a good torturer. I’ve seen some of the signs of your work. They were rather shoddy.”

“Shoddy?”

“You chose to take it too far every time. I’m guessing you got so high on the screaming, you never noticed the breaking.” Vital motioned towards the plinth with his horn. “I assume that’s supposed to be the translation of the manuscript on thaumaturgy.”

The shadow laughed. “You honestly think Hammer Strike would let me anywhere near his copy?”

“No, but I figure he’d let you have access to the limited one. After all, how can you reach your full potential without a proper education?”

“A logical deduction. So, tell me, are we going to be crossing swords all night or are we actually going to end your life?”

“Well, you’re me. Or at least you’re supposed to be. What do you think?”

The shadow sneered as a black icicle jutted out from the floor, but Vital Spark was already gone by the time it had grown to its full height. Vital Spark raced through the room as his counterpart continued to conjure frozen stalagmites. Blood surged through the Unicorn’s ears as he bobbed and weaved, but he could see his room to maneuver disappearing. It was only a matter of time before his shadow had him boxed in. He slashed with a magically reinforced edge to cut through the tops of several of the structures, then levitated them to fire at his opponent in a deadly hail.

“Please.” Vital’s shadow rolled his eyes as a wall of blue energy rose up in front of him. He yawned as the shards embedded themselves. “Is that really the best you can do?”

Vital Spark shrugged, but otherwise chose to remain silent. The shadow was crafty, and he knew how easily talking could prove to be a distraction. In this case, it would be a deadly one. He barely had enough time to spin Watcherin his magic as the stalagmites thrust out with a web of shards. The ironwood proved a useful deterrent against the smaller limbs, but Vital knew it wasn’t a viable defense, especially given the fact he didn’t know how much he’d actually be able to handle, let alone how much more this other self could produce. A cold purple wafted around the shadow’s horn as it glowed with a thin layer of blue at its core.

“You could at least make this a little interesting,” the shadow said. “I’m not even warmed up yet. Come on. Make this fun.” He grinned manically at Vital Spark as he carved a swath with the energy from his horn to cut over the room, causing it to rain debris as Vital Spark dodged. His breath was growing labored as he stood next to one of the crystalline stumps.

“So, this is the me that would have been, if I didn’t listen to my conscience.” Vital chuckled. “A psychopath with too much time on his hands. Go figure.”

“Oh, not nearly enough, I assure you.” A cold mist began to rise from the floor. “So much theory to memorize, so many arrogant Ponies to put in their places, so many sanctimonious hypocrites to kill.” He laughed as he turned his head at an unhealthy angle. His eyes widened to the point where they were practically all eyeball and no eyelid. “To kill and kill and kill and kill and kill!” His mane writhed as the pressure in the room increased and the magic began to gather around his horn, expanding to nigh-unwieldy proportions. “Come on, little saint, let me hear you scream!”

Vital Spark shivered as he felt the droplets that condensed on his fur freeze into tiny icicles. He jumped to the side just in time as the magic his shadow had gathered smashed into the ground. A column of energy surrounded the shelves as each of the ladders suddenly pulsed to life with bright white runes. Their metal pieces suddenly extended from the sides to form tines that channeled the power between them, rising up higher and higher to create a barrier as the pillars of ice shattered and their shards rebounded again and again, whizzing through the air.

Vital Spark gasped as the shards pelted at him from all sides. The cold air bit at his throat and lungs, sucking away moisture and causing his breath to hitch as he struggled to keep his intake steady. He grit his teeth in an attempt to deny the shadow its satisfaction, but ultimately failed as a shard sliced cleanly across the flesh between the gaskin and cannon of his equine anatomy. The cutting burned, and he let out a low cry that was almost like a sob. He raised his own horn and the mist swirled around him faster and faster, thicker and thicker, until a veritable curtain of water had formed. He scrunched his eyes shut as he clutched at Watcher and willed the surface to freeze. The water stilled with a sickening crack and congealed to the floor, forming an icy cocoon. The tattoo of ice shards pelted like hail as they crashed and embedded against the surface. He fired a concentrated beam at the shell to thicken its surface and reinforce against the blows, until he was confident of the integrity.

Eventually, the bombardment ceased. Vital Spark took advantage of the moment to pull out the stopper on one of his potions and douse the wound liberally. It stung briefly, then glowed and began to close. “Thank you, Mist Mane and Meadowbrook,” he breathed as he watched the vapor of his breath rise in the air in front of him. Still, he knew it was no time to rest. The cold was still seeping into his body, and now he was trapped. While the area was insulated well enough, he doubted the shadow would give him the time he needed to rest. Any mercy that version of him had once possessed had likely been completely removed by his rearing under this Shadow Strike.

Vital Spark sighed as he felt the warmth of his body slowly heat the small dome, allowing the ice on his fur to return to droplets that streamed down his legs and body like cold blades. He shuddered and shook his body to spray off any excess he could manage. That was when the shadow struck. A frigid sensation struck against his barrel, and Vital Spark jumped out of the way, only to see a pressurized jet of water shooting up from the ground beneath to spatter against the haven’s roof. Vital Spark rushed over and stomped his hoof over the offending spot, but watched in dismay as more water popped up in jet after jet. The whole floor buckled, then burst apart as a flood of water crashed into the shelter, flooding it to the brim. Vital Spark’s eyes widened as the icy shell returned to its liquid state and a grinning shadow stared back up at him.

“I can’t believe you actually thought you could take control of myspell.” He laughed. “Now that’s just plain stupid. We’re smarter than that, aren’t we? Or could it just be that I’m the better stallion?”

Vital kicked for all he was worth as he struggled to swim to the edge of the sphere.

“Ah, ah, ah,” the shadow chided. The cold returned with crushing force as the water shifted to foil Vital’s efforts. The Unicorn’s eyes widened in horror as the spidery white veins began to spread out from the water’s edge, and he struggled harder. His horn lit up, but nothing came as the freezing increased its pace. Watcher twitched a few times from its place on the floor, then was still as the water finished crystallizing, leaving a perfectly preserved Unicorn gaping helplessly out.

The shadow chortled as he picked Vital Spark’s focus up off the floor. “I think I’ll call you ‘Death of a Conscience.’ It has a nice ring to it. Don’t you agree?” He tapped the icy ball’s surface as he sneered in at the Unicorn. “Then again, I suppose it won’t matter for much longer, anyway. Soon you’ll be dead, and I’ll get to give Hammer Strike the good news. I do solove to please him. And with Grif and Clover dead, well … there’s just so much room to climb now, isn’t there? He’ll have no choice but to rely on me. Mmm … any second now.”

At that moment, three things happened simultaneously: a veritable surge of energy flooded out from the pearl on Vital Spark’s focus to suffuse the icy prism, an ominous crackling snapped defiantly from the orb, and lastly, the whites in Vital Spark’s eyes turned utterly black.

Then all hell broke loose.

The crystalline shell shattered with a vicious detonation, sending chunks of ice as large as a Minotaur’s head smashing against floor, wall, and barrier as a dual-toned chuckle echoed around the room. “Aww, isn’t that sweet? Little boy Vital wants to play with the adults.” Two icy blue orbs glowed in the mists the detonation had left behind as a deep purple haze wafted out from the black iris. “Oh, but he doesn’t know the rules, does he? No, of course he doesn’t. He’s not ready for that kind of responsibility. No, leave him with his toys in the dungeon. Don’t come crying to us when they break, though. They’re your responsibility.”

“Shut up!” The shadow fired a concentrated beam at the Pony, but the orbs flickered, and then were gone as the mists parted. The flames began to go out one by one.

“Tell me, little boy, are you still afraid of the dark?” The voice seemed to come from everywhere, bouncing back and forth from ceiling to shelves to floor. “You’re not the only one. Mmm … fear is such an … interesting thing, so useful for crippling the will. If I’d had the chance with you, oh, the things we could have done. Ah, but there’s the pity. You may have gotten rid of your conscience, but I know the hand the freezes your heart,” the voice whispered sinuously.

The shadow brandished Watcher with practiced ease as he glared into the deepening shadow. “Where are you?” he whispered to himself.

“Over here,” the voice whispered and sighed among the shelves. The shadow felt something brush against his mane, and whirled the staff around to strike, only to cut through empty air.

“Or perhaps I’m over there,” the voice began again, and the shadow growled as it fired a beam into the twisting fog.

“God, it feels good to be out of that cage,” Vital’s voice cried exultantly.

“I’ll try to make it more comfortable next time,” the shadow growled as his eyes darted around the room.

“Oh, I wasn’t talking about your little bauble. Frankly, it was shoddy work. Oh, very artistic in a vain sort of way, but usually it’s best to actually, oh, you know, kill your prey first, before you try to immortalize them in ice. Honestly, you’re hardly a blip on the scale. The only reason you managed to get this far is because of a pacifistic nature and a lack of real combat experience. I don’t have either.” He chuckled again. “Did you know this guy actually kept me locked up for over twenty years? Seriously, he may be a weakling, but his will is something else when he puts his mind to it.”

A rustle of movement caught the shadow’s attention as another torch gutted out.

“But that’s neither here nor there. I’m out, the shadows are spreading, you’re dead…. Oh, wait.” There was a brief wrenching sensation, and the shadow Vital suddenly found himself without a weapon. “Guess who,” whispered in his ear, and he whipped his head around just in time for him to register a curious wet sensation running down his neck. He touched a hoof there, and pulled it back to sniff. The strong scent of copper assaulted his nostrils, and he snorted in rage.

“Where are you?” the shadow snarled. “Face me!”

“And ruin the fun? I thought you wanted to play with the big boys. Didn’t you know the adults don’t play fair?” The voice chuckled again as the glowing eyes danced in the shadows. “I’d tell you to take some notes, little one, but you’re not going to need them where you’re going.” Ghostly wails and phantom shrieks began to keen outside the small circle of light the shadow’s horn projected. The grating of claws and slavering jaws mingled with sensual moans and nauseating squelches. Green and red and orange and purple flashed as the darkness beyond rippled and pressed. “So many horrors to choose. So many ways to make you squirm, make you writhe, make you suffer,” the voice said with unsavory relish. “It’s not so much fun being on the receiving end, is it? Well, it’s fun for me. I’m not so sure about you.”

“You think a little shadow play is going to scare me? Pathetic!” A barrage of pellets fired from the shadow’s horn as it fired blindly into the darkness beyond.

“Oh, but this is so very much more than a game.” The shadow Vital cried out as a tentacle lunged from the pressing dark beyond to slash at his shadow, only for a bloody gash to form on his shoulder. “This … is very, very real. And I’m going to take my time with you.”

The fake Vital Spark shouted angrily as he reared, then smashed his hooves onto the floor. A frigid blanket of ice cracked and spread out over the stone, and he swiveled his ears as he listened for the familiar crackle as it spread up the objects surrounding them.

“I’m sorry. I assume that was supposed to immobilize me, perhaps give you an indication of where I am?”

The shadow’s head darted left and right as he tried to pinpoint the voice. One moment it came from the front, the next off to the side. “How are you doing this? You shouldn’t be able to dothis.”

The darkness seemed almost to writhe with Vital Spark’s laughter. “Hammer Strike isn’t the only one with secrets,” the voice hissed. Then the Pony stepped out from the darkness, his eyes still flaring. “You think you’ve touched evil?” Another Vital Spark followed. “You think you know of depravity?” A third one emerged. “You think you understand the nature of darkness?” They began to advance. “You poor simpleton.”

The fake Vital Spark roared his defiance as he cut and slashed with beams of light from his horn. The approaching ponies broke apart to merge into the darkness, only for another shade to take their place.

“I was born in the darkness, little colt, molded by it, shaped little by little. An unanswered slight, a blistering slur, a lick of pride, a kiss of lust, the fires of rage, the seed of hate. All these things, and so much more, fed me, sustained me, helped me to grow, until I became something more than a figment.” The twin-toned voice chuckled, and that chuckle became a cacophony as the shades continued their advance, all with twisted grins and open mouths. “But you know the worst part? Despite my gaining sentience, despite having all this potential bottled up and away, just waiting to be tapped, that stupid kid wouldn’t let me out to play. You know how that is, don’t you, little Unicorn?” The shades sneered. “After all this time, Hammer Strike still won’t trust you. And Clover would never acknowledge you.”

“Shut up!” Again, the shades burst apart. Again, they reformed and advanced. The light had nearly all gone now. A single flame flickered weakly in its embrasure overhead, a last dying star.

“Make me.”

The room was silent for a time. Then the false Vital’s sides began to heave as what started like a sob rose into manic laughter, while his head shot up. His yellow eyes flashed as his face twisted into a deranged grin. His horn lit up, and the cold blue aura flickered in the shadows rising higher and higher along the bookshelves. He cocked his head at an unwholesome angle as he cackled exultantly. “Let’s go one farther. I’ll unmake you! Right here and right now! We’ll go together!”

The sound of wrenching metal snapped as Vital Spark suddenly stood locking his horn with his clone. One eye was the same black with glowing blue iris. The other was his normal white with blue. “No,” he said calmly as the sound of metal whistled through the air. The dual tone had shifted, calming to the point where the two could hardly be distinguished. He slammed the head of his focus at the base of the shadow’s horn, then shoved under the shadow’s barrel to raise it up on its hind legs. A sickening thunk and a juicy splatter squashed as metal pierced flesh. “I don’t think you will.”

The shadow coughed as a dark fluid burbled out his mouth to stain his chin. The light in his horn flickered as the crystals his aura had prepared to crush returned to normal. He gurgled, pawed weakly at Vital Spark’s chest, then collapsed as the light in his eyes glazed over.

Vital Spark flicked his horn and the torches relit themselves as he watched the shadow’s body disintegrate. The piece of the ladder he’d torn from one of the bookcases clattered to the floor. He sighed then and closed his eyes. When he opened them again, the black was gone. He shook his head as he approached the remains. The shadows had coalesced into a long white robe with reinforced metal plates on the shoulders and chest. A yin-yang symbol had been engraved and burnished on its front. The fibers beneath it shimmered, revealing fine chain-like patterns that flickered gold, then white again. A gold-embroidered hood hung back along the shoulders, while the sleeves had been embroidered in silver. On a whim, Vital Spark tapped the symbol on the chestplate, and his eyes widened as the colors shifted to black and gray. The light seemed almost to bend around it and the plates, while the embroidery had shifted to scarlet.

“... Flashy,” Vital muttered as he picked it up. “I just hope this thing wasn’t used for his torture sessions.” He stowed it away in one of his packs, then clopped slowly back down the hall, using Watcher for support. His body shook terribly as he knocked against the stone door. “Hey, Luna.” He managed a weak smile as he looked at the princess. “I did it.”

“And how do you feel?”

“Is it normal to say like crap?” He chuckled mirthlessly to himself.

“More than you realize.” Luna returned his chuckle with her own. “Come. We need to leave, before the reaper knows we’re here.”

Vital Spark drew himself up and took a deep breath. “Then let’s go. You and I can talk details later. I … need to sort some things out with you.”

---

“Good morning,” Gabriel offered to Golden Oak as he and New Moon entered. Both looked ragged and tired but cheerful enough.

Golden Oak gave a faint wave as he continued to look at his work. “Where were you two, anyways? I didn’t see you at all last night.”

“We had some unfortunate circumstances, while tracking some rather nasty nocturnal pests,” New Moon explained.

Golden Oak hummed in response. “Makes sense, I suppose. Though I do have one question.”

“And that would be?” Gabriel asked.

Blackened fire erupted from Golden Oak’s hooves as the two found themselves suddenly shoved to the ground with an immense force. After a moment, the tan Pony turned towards the group with a familiar darkness in his eyes. “How are you still getting in?”

“H-how?” Grif asked, struggling to loosen his grasp.

“Each day, his grasp is lessened,” he explained as he began moving towards them. “I figured, if I can’t kill you in my own mind, I’ll deal with you here, unless you want to blow your cover? I know you can fight back against this, but you won’t be able to hide yourselves after doing it.”

“Igor said you wouldn’t have control for a few days yet at the very least.” Grif attempted to grab for his katana as he struggled against the pressure.

Shadow Strike raised his brow questioningly for a moment, before shaking his head. “You won’t delay me any more.” He grabbed hold of one of his axes. “I don’t have all the time in the world just yet….”

“You really think this will free you? You’ll just piss him off, wherever you have him in there, and we both know what happens then.”

“Oh, but he’s not in here. That’s the best part,” the shadow smiled. “The only half of me that is in here is Golden Oak, and he’s not even conscious. He won’t know what happened, and once this is all through, it’ll end in one of two ways.”

“You forget, you exist as part of Hammer Strike’s psyche,” Luna laughed. “Your Golden Oak, that nice little palace you live in? That’s all part of Hammer Strike. Does it strain you when the walls fight back, knowing that with one false step, you’ll lose everything?”

“They don’t fight back as much as you would like to think,” he said as he applied more pressure to hold the two down.

“Then why are you starting to sweat?” Grif snickered.

The shadow sighed. “Fine. I may not have full control yet, but I suppose I don’t have to deal with you just yet either. The time is drawing near, and I doubt you’ll make it in time to stop me.”

“I guess we’ll have to see.”

The shadow threw the axe off to the side, before he rubbed his forehead. The pressure over Grif and Luna lessened, then disappeared entirely. After a moment, Golden Oak opened his eyes again, before suddenly tensing. “Gabriel, New Moon, when did you both come in?”

“A few minutes ago,” Gabriel offered, panting. “We had a difficult hunt last night.”

“I hope we didn’t disturb you,” New Moon offered.

“No, I don’t think you did.” He rubbed at the side of his head. “Sorry, I think I might have been too focused on work. Might take a break today.”

“That sounds like a good idea. Some rest would do you good, my friend,” Gabriel said. Golden Oak nodded slightly and hummed to himself as he made his way up the stairs to his bedroom. Grif watched him, and listened for the door to close, before turning to look grimly at Luna. “Get Vital over here. Our timetable just shifted.”

Comments

[Fetch]

Has anyone else noticed that this tale is nearly two MILLION words long, and still going?

[Booster Spice]

Still fighting againt whatever it is thats taken hold of Hammerstrike? the only thing that could defeat him his own fear of how dangerous he is to everyone else?

Really hope they dont get as far as Octavia, the dungeon was bad enough, but that Persona scene was far beyond disturbing.

[Majk]

8814354
Some stories are 20k words long and they feel like they stretch forever, this one has almost 2m and i want more. I guess quality sometimes goes with quantity eh?

[Night_Striker]

well that is an intresting turn off event for vital

[ihatehaters1994]

Damn dude this was an epic chapter, that vital scene thought, im not sure how what to think of vital now. Im at least happy Pensword is being treated better now. As always keep up the great work, cant wait for an update.

[Dravkwn]

“Precisely,” Luna nodded.

“Oh, this is gonna suck,” Vital groaned.

“Thus is life, and then you expire.”

Did Luna just make a "Life's a female Diamond Dog and then you die" comment?

[GarrusVakarian]

TWO THINGS

One, does the library hold everything that Hammer Strike once knew?

and two, I wonder if Luna noticed the 'change' in Vital as that seems to be something
she would be very familiar with?

That and every italicized word doesn't have a space in front of it
(at least it seems so)

[Vital Spark]

8816234
To answer your questions in order,
1. Yes, it's made from his memory, so it holds all the information Hammer Strike himself holds.
2. That will be up to Tealspeckles to answer for certain, since he writes Luna, though in my personal opinion, I would think she does notice.
3. Trust me, I ran over this thing with a fine tooth comb, being extra careful about the italics, after an error I noticed pop up in a previous chapter where the coding removed the spacing after the italicized word, because said space was also italicized in the original document. These are all properly formatted with spaces before and after.

I hope that helps. :)

[Vital Spark]

8816234

“How are you doing this? You shouldn’t be able todothis.”

*Proceeds to let out a stream of curses at the fact I missed one of the italic spaces.*

[GarrusVakarian]

8816735
OK, it's just how my computer is displaying it then

[Charedfirescale]

I had to look up what Persona was. I'm familiar with it in passing but have never played the games myself. Had no idea what the Velvet Room was until i looked it up.

Let me know if you ever do a Kingdom Hearts Crossover

[Vital Spark]

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Also, fair warning, there will be a lot of grammar errors in the first thirty or so chapters. I promise, the writing does get better, as does the editing. We have a member on the staff working to fix the first chapters, and we will re-post them with their revisions as soon as they pass final examination. Sorry for the inconvenience.

~Vital Spark
Head Editor of An Extended Holiday

[MJ]

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Thanks! ^_^

[MJ]

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Also, it turns out that Starswirl isn't actually dead, but was trapped in limbo with the Pony Of Shadows (a.k.a. Stigeon) for the last 1,000-plus years. I look forward to seeing how you incorporate it into this story when the time comes. ^_^

[MJ]

8835842
Ah, okay. You're welcome.

[Bast]

Ive been following this story for a good long time now and i generally like 90% of the characters presented, but my god have i grown to dislike grif over time. he went from likeable to this overblown knowit all with a ego bigger than luna’s moon. Like fo instance a couple chapters back when cadence was worried about her little brother and tried to “threaten” him like you would expect from parents or protective siblings. And the way he toots his own horn rubs me the wrong way. maybe it is just me but i just dislike him currently.

[Teraunce]

At that moment, three things happened simultaneously: a veritable surge of energy flooded out from the pearl on Vital Spark’s focus to suffuse the icy prism, an ominous crackling snapped defiantly from the orb, and lastly, the whites in Vital Spark’s eyes turned utterly black.

Crap. Ronoc got free.