The master and the windigo

by stupidswampdragon

30 - Perceived sins

"Lyra did what?"

Bon grimaced and stared. She had a pretty hard time believing what she had heard; the chasm between the news and her expectations seemed impossible to bridge.

She mulled silently for a few seconds and decided that indeed, she couldn't believe anything of what the Guard officer had been telling her.

"It's just as I said, miss. Your friend attacked a survivor of the changeling attack," the officer reiterated. He looked shocked, very shocked; so shocked that he lost his ability to express emotions. He barely displayed anything, neither on his face nor in his voice; he was talking in a disturbingly flat monotone.

But these observations were secondary to the news that the colt had brought.

"So she's in jail now," Bon repeated absent-mindedly. Her voice was weak and hollow. She was used to Lyra pulling odd things at the most unexpected moments, but getting into trouble during a changeling invasion...

...what the heck has gotten into you, Lyra??!

"That is correct. Lyra Heartstrings is currently in custody at the local barracks." The Guard officer gave a curt nod. "The charge is assault, but that may change when we find out the identity of her victim."

Bon sighed and shook her head in resignation, pushing a hoof against her temple. It was supposed to have been such a simple day. Just a gig at a local festival; that was all that Lyra had to do.

She's like an unruly filly. Seriously, I leave her alone for a second and this happens!

"Right," she snorted loudly, her eyebrow twitching before she could suppress the unconscious reaction. "I know it's a bother, but could you escort me the that barracks, uh... Mr. Officer? I've got a pea-brained musician to talk to."

The Guard officer hummed and scratched his short mane. Unlike the other troopers, he didn't have a helmet on. Bon couldn't decide if that was a personal preference or if he had simply lost it in the battle. She veered towards the former. A helmet on that colt would have been such a waste. It would have been a sin to obscure those fancy, dual-coloured eyes.

It is not everyday that one sees eyes with such a combination of red and violet.

"In my opinion, hurrying won't help." The officer shook his head. "Your friend had already attacked another pony - without any provocation, as far as we can tell. It might be better to keep her isolated until we know more."

Bon scowled and tore her gaze from the officer. She stayed silent. Had she spoken, she would have surely regretted her words later on. She knew Lyra better than anypony else! She was sure that Lyra wouldn't attack anypony, period. However, there was no way she could expect an officer to understand that.

"So, did your friend behave oddly lately?" the officer began asked. The question must have been part of the routine, as there wasn't a single shred of curiosity in his voice. He spoke as slowly and dryly as before.

"No." Bon declared firmly and right away. "I mean - not any odder than before. Lyra was always a little... impulsive. But she's still all right. I can guarantee that."

"I see. No change in behaviour, then?" the officer wrinkled his eyebrows. "Didn't she act crazy? Talking to herself, maybe? Hallucinations?"

"You take that back, sir." Bon stomped loudly with her hoof, glaring at the officer. "Lyra isn't insane, all right? She's perfectly fine. She only had a skiing accident lately, but she got over it faster than... uh.
Her voice faltered. She couldn't possibly admit, but the officer was spot-on. Lyra was talking to herself, and was seeing things ever since that skiing accident - only, those demonstrably weren't caused by some mental lapse. All of those eccentricities were the side-effects of a ghost with quite tangible powers. Turning things cold, messing with ponies' thoughts...

Bon's heart skipped as she realized how the two events connected.

"An... anyway... there were n... no problems. Nothing at all!" she stammered, cutting her answer as short as she could. She tried to hide it, but her lips were trembling; the confidence had completely vanished from her voice.

"I see. Well, even so - it would be best to delay your reunion until your friend is released." The officer nodded. It was quite abrupt, but he seemed to be done with his task. He turned around without so much as saying 'bye' and began walking away.

Bon didn't mind. She hastily retreated into the house and slammed the door shut; then collapsed right in the doorway, her back against the wooden door.

Lyra... you didn't get into trouble because of that ghost, right?

Sadly enough, she already knew that she was chasing a false hope. Messing with the ghost would have explained why Lyra hadn't been herself for the past few days. The musician was always so stressed or phased out, as if she had some monumental task weighing down on her.

She threw a few angry punches at the empty air. Her anger turned into anguish really fast though, and she was clutching her legs over her head before long. She had let her friend down and felt miserable about the fact. This despite the legitimate excuses she could have brought up in her defence. Like how the signs were only obvious in hindsight. Also, what if she had realized? What could have she done? That ghost, that magic; all that stuff was way over her head. She was a simple earth pony, for Celestia's sake! Earth ponies were never any good with magic.

All perfectly valid and logical reasons. Too bad they had only served to fuel the helplessness Bon felt.

She raised a hoof and slammed it into the wall, bitterness twisting her face.

Lyra! You stupid, stupid, stupid idiot! Why couldn't you listen to me?! I told you to not get involved in this kind of thing!

Brooding silently at the base of the door, Bon decided to heed the officer's advice. There was no point in her meeting Lyra, not in her current state. She had to calm down, collect her thoughts. Screaming and freaking out wouldn't solve anything.

Good thing I'm alone at home, she thought and buried her face into her hooves.

---

"Well... being the hero still doesn't work for us," Snowy sighed.

Flat on her back and lying on the bunk, Lyra snorted with disdain. Part of her wanted to laugh at the joke, but the majority of her was still vetoing anything that wasn't depression.

She had been fighting for this shanty town a little while ago. She had risked her life, her everything just so those ungrateful ponies could have a better chance at escaping. No, not only that; she had signed her death warrant to give them a chance. Things looked pretty bleak when she had stayed on that plaza, facing a changeling army all on her own.

And then she had fought. She had suffered, in ways others couldn't even fathom. With the healing that accompanied Snowy's powers, she was in a pretty acceptable shape; even the dull headache had disappeared. However, she knew just how dearly that cheat had cost her. The damage hadn't disappeared - it simply took a different shape.

Trying to recall her life, Lyra sourly noted that mind had more holes than content. Her life became nothing more than disjointed images; brief flashes that she couldn't put anywhere.

That was the price she had paid. She had gutted herself to save this town.

And what did she get for it?

A five-by-five meter cell with a barred window and a hard mattress. That was the first part of her reward.

None of the Guard could remember who Chrysalis was. Not even the bug-like appearance of the Queen had managed to cue them in. They had all agreed that Lyra had been beating up an innocent survivor. They turned deaf ears to her protests. They even ignored how she had been the only pony holding the changelings at bay. There were no other survivors on the plaza after all; only she, Chrysalis and the changelings were left when the Guard had arrived. There was no-one to vouch for her. She had no wounds to show as proof of her battle, either; Snowy's powers had healed her almost completely.

Lyra snorted loudly and pulled her legs over her face.

I've had enough of this rotten world. How unfair can life get?!

"I must be like a tired record at this point, but... I'm sorry." Snowy sighed and sat down, right underneath the barred window. "I cheated Master from her victory. Master could have become the hero, had I not made everyone forget who the Queen was. "

Smiling dryly under the cover of her hooves, Lyra rolled her eyes. Hogwash! She was the one who had given the order; so the blame could only lay with her.

Though, when she really thought about it, she hadn't made that decision on a whim either. She simply had no other choices left. She was forced into that course of action, so as to save everypony in Ponyville.

The same bunch who threw her into jail afterwards.

I should have died in that battle.

Living was nice, no doubt. But she would have preferred perishing in the blissful belief that her sacrifice was for a noble goal. She would have been satisfied with becoming a hero, even if a tragic one at that. Lying belly-up on an old mattress and staring at the empty ceiling, she didn't have even that fancy delusions to comfort her any more.

She shuffled around and frowned. Of all her losses, perhaps losing that illusion hurt the most; to know that the ponies around her did not need a saviour.

Worse yet, Lyra couldn't find it in her to blame all those ponies either. She understood why they had acted the way they had. Every time she had tried to think with their heads, she came to the same conclusions they also had - which was incredibly frustrating. Maddening, even. It made her want to scream. She was angry, but she wasn't even sure who she should be angry at.

Hoofsteps echoed in the small room, sending her dark thoughts scattering.

Lyra had already realized that she was the only guest staying in that part of the barracks. Perking her ears and lifting her legs from her face, she wondered just who would visit her this time - and why.

Would another investigator ask her about Chrysalis, only to completely disregard her answers anyway?
Would she be asked about the battle again, only to be told how a singular pony couldn't stave off twenty changelings, much less a thousand?
Would she be reminded that the maximal sentence for assault was thirty years behind bars - and then be offered a deal to confess for a more generous deal, say five years?

Something clanged on the other side of the door. Keys, most likely; in the smothering silence of her room, Lyra had quickly learnt how to tell the different sounds from each other. She rolled to her side and glared at the door. The mattress rattled under her; the filling was way past the due date for replacement, and it made sure that she felt that fact.

Then the lock clacked. It was loud and definite, the oiled gears turning with the precision of clockwork. The door swing inside, the steel object sweeping bits of debris and loose hay to the side...

Lyra jumped off her bed, gasping. Her emotions were between shock and anger, and she was seriously debating which one she wanted to listen to.

She was facing the very officer which had once helped and then condemned her.

The officer in question moved into the cell at a languid pace. He was clearly breaking all the protocols; Lyra had already noticed how all the other Guard officers came with large groups backing them up. This was the first time that a lone Guard approached her.

Does he want some privacy?

The officer's head swivelled as he walked, pausing only once his dual-coloured eyes rested on Lyra proper. His face stayed a perfect mask all the while, offering no clues to his behaviour nor to his motives. Then he cleared his throat and stated something that Lyra had been frustratingly aware of.

"You're in trouble."

---

Of all the emotions racing across Lyra's mind, one stood out.

Disgust.

"You again," she frowned and sat down, slumping onto her rear.

"You sound displeased." The officer noted dryly, his head cocked to the side. "Interesting. I assumed you would show your one ally more gratitude."

Before she could say anything, a guttural chuckle left Lyra's mouth.

"Ally!" she echoed, her voice rippling with the after-effects of a suppressed laughter. "Some ally you are. I'm stuck in here because of you!"

The officer blinked lengthily, then lowered his head in a nod-like movement.

"That was a foregone conclusion. Standing over your prey like you did, nothing I could have said would have made a difference." He explained in his annoyingly calm tone, his eyes cracked open to a slit. "Just what did you expect me to say? Join you in the fall, admit it was me who armed you? That wouldn't have helped either of us. I would be sitting alongside you in the very best case. Arming civilians is no laughing matter - especially when they are caught breaking the law afterwards."

Lyra rolled her eyes at the answer. Such self-apologetic pandering.

"Yeah, because you gave that sword to me in complete secrecy!" she shook her head in disbelief. She didn't need to say anything more; her thoughts were already clear as day.

I really expected something better of you, numbskull.

"Oh, but it is a secret now. Me giving you that sword... at this point, only you and me are privy to that detail." The Guard officer walked to the small window of the cell, then stared out into the open. His pace, his tone, his nonchalant expression. Coupled with his words, they painted an image that Lyra found mildly disturbing. "I should be thankful to the changelings on this matter, I guess. They have been rather... thorough with the witnesses around the plaza."

Lyra reared her head back and drew a hasty breath. Her ears moved on their own and disappeared in her mane, hugging onto her neck tightly.

"You... you were counting on all those ponies biting the dust?!"

"Only as much as you are counting on a glass to break when you swipe it off the table." The officer furrowed his forehead and snapped to Lyra, his armour clanging loudly at the sudden movement. "I certainly didn't ask the changelings to devour anypony's soul. But, once they had arrived on the scene, the conclusion was inevitable. All I did was make the most of a sad scene! Surely you wouldn't hold that against me?"

Her head bobbing as she shifted back and forth, Lyra moved her amber pupils away from the colt.

Factually speaking, there was nothing wrong with his rationale. Weapons weren't welcome in Equestria. Even the Guard troopers wore them with a degree of reluctance; civilians were straight out of the question. Giving his sword to Lyra, despite saving her life, carried a lot of danger for the colt. Prosecution, demotion, nasty rumours... not many would have braved those possibilities.

But despite all that, Lyra couldn't bring herself to sympathise with him. Not because he had lied and got her thrown into jail; she couldn't fault him for saving his own hide.

It was the attitude that bugged her.

His calm, death-defying tone was very reassuring in the battle. However, keeping the same nonchalant tone became quite jarring afterwards. After witnessing all that pain, all that pointless savagery, Lyra was expecting him to show some shred of emotion. Twitching ears. A chuckle lurking behind his words. An odd, inexplicable smile in the corners of his mouth. Shaking of legs. Brooding. Something. Anything.

But that officer was apparently made out of stone. He showed absolutely no sign of being affected by the recent events; he was walking and talking the same way he had before and during the battle. He was factual and reasonable, almost to a fault.

Lyra's instincts couldn't cope with that sort of consistence. She couldn't help it; part of her was irritated by that behaviour.

Beware of that colt. He doesn't care about all the deaths that surrounded him. He's dangerous. That's what the internal voice told her, and she tended to agree.

"By the way - let's not forget that it was me who went back for you. Only me." The officer raised his left eyebrow and leaned against the wall. The armour creaked and screeched; its panels were not designed with leaning in mind, the rigid metal sheets were struggling to cope with his posture. "Not a single of those ponies thought to rush back and help their kin. Not even the Guards! All everypony did was scream and run away."

Lyra closed her eyes and flexed her jaws. Speaking ill of those ponies didn't sit well with her. They had abandoned her, yes. But they were resting on the cold ground now, drooling onto the soil with glassy eyes. They had already paid the penance for whatever wrongs they had done.

Even so, her disgust couldn't fully dismiss the notion. That officer was the only pony who had braved the changelings to reach her.

On the other hoof...

"You only came back to ask me to die." Lyra cracked her eyes open, a wry grimace on her face.

"Your chances were far from certain, I will admit that much." The officer nodded and leaned forward. His armour scraped along the wall, screeching and carving a deep line into the paint. "However, think of all the ponies you have saved. Had the changelings not been contained at the plaza, the toll could have been enormous."

Lyra turned her head to the floor and chuckled darkly. There was no need to remind her of that. The fact had been in the fore of her mind ever since she was put into that cell.

"Fat lot of good that did to me," she exhaled loudly. "Nopony believes me when I tell them my side of the story. To them, I'm just... I'm just a..."

Her voice trailed off; she lacked the will to finish that sentence. She knew what to say, but she couldn't bring herself to say it out loud. She didn't want to say it, because she wanted to believe that she could be wrong. She wanted to hope that by not saying out loud, the fact would remain easier to change.

She wanted to hang onto that optimism, no matter how baseless it was.

"To them, you are just a savage. A monster, like the ones you fought." The officer nodded curtly.

Lyra jolted and shuddered, shaking her head with her eyes squeezed shut. That was the exact thing on her mind, too; and hearing it turned into actual words had made it even worse. It sounded like a fact, no longer a fleeting delusion.

"Is that all you came back for? Just to tell me that?" she muttered. She wanted to cry. Only, she knew she couldn't. Not because of the colt, though. It wasn't a matter of company.

She had felt like bawling quite a few times in the last hours. She knew the signs; hasty breathing, choking up, a lump swelling in her throat... but the tears wouldn't come. The rush came and passed her each time with nothing happening. She couldn't cry, no matter how badly she felt the need to.

"No. I came to tell you that you shouldn't be ashamed of yourself." The officer raised his head and peeked out between the bars of the window. "If anything, you have done quite well."

Lyra chuckled grimly first, firm in the belief that she had heard wrong. Then she snapped her head to attention, so fast that her mane was tearing her neck. The compliment didn't placate her; if anything, it was simply dousing oil onto the fire.

"THEN WHY AM LOCKED UP HERE?!" she screamed. "LIKE A CRIMINAL!"

Her words had a brilliant edge to them. Her throat was still fresh, so her voice was loud and crisp. Were she in a theatre, her performance would have garnered serious applause.

Too bad she was in a small cell, a ghost and a creepy officer her sole audience.

The officer returned his gaze to Lyra and nodded curtly, almost as if saying 'fair enough'. Then he broke out a dry smile and mumbled under his breath.

"Because this is hardly a perfect world, I suppose."

---

Lyra shuddered at the cold touch, though it wasn't really the cold that bothered her. It was understanding that the blunt end of the polearm had just poked her in the rear.

The Lyra from yesterday wouldn't have given much thought to that weapon; her current self was a whole different case, however. She could readily imagine what the other end of the polearm would do to her. It didn't even require too much mental gymnastics; she had seen many of the possible outcomes first-hoof.

"Hurry up, will ya'?" the trooper behind her growled.

Lyra gave the command a silent sneer. It was irritating, being yanked around by a soldier. For all she knew, that colt was one of the soldiers that had abandoned her earlier, only returning once she had defended Ponyville on her own.

There wasn't much she could do, though. Shortly after the creepy officer had left, ordinary troopers had burst into her cell. There were more than a dozen of them; so many that they barely fit in the small room.

Pacing inches ahead of the polearm, Lyra could still remember her surprise at the scene.

All these Guards, just for me? Do I really warrant this kind of security?

It could have been a misconception, but the whole scene struck her as cowardly. Angered and bitter, she almost challenged the Guards to a fair one-on-one. It was a close call; she played along with the troopers in the end, but the saner part of her had barely prevailed.

Though frankly speaking, her handlers didn't make that decision any easier.

She was kept in the dark. None of the Guards had told her where she was being taken to, nor why she was being relocated. She assumed it was just another of the pointless 'interviews', but remained wary about the ordeal. To think she would need to suffer such demeaning trials, right after she had saved the whole town by herself. And at the hooves of the Guard no less! The same cowards who were supposed to fight that battle themselves in the first place.

Lyra couldn't help but hear the words of the officer echo in her head.

This isn't a perfect world, I suppose...

She bit into her lip, a mighty frown forming on her face.

Well, didn't you hit that nail square on the head!

---

Lyra shuffled around; she felt uncomfortable. There was a Guard on both her sides, but neither paid any attention to her. She couldn't take a good look at their faces - their standard-issue helmets covered too much - but as far as she could tell, both colts were simply staring out of their skulls, completely lost in their imaginary world. Escorting prisoners wasn't one of their life-long dreams, apparently.

She would have commented on that, were she not standing in front of a high-ranking Guard.

The boss Guard, whom the others only referred to as 'Sarge', was a stocky unicorn. He wore the same armour as the rest of the troopers, only a few sizes larger; and unlike the rank-and-serve soldiers, his helmet had a fancier collection of feathers.

He also had his own room, complete with rudimentary furniture. Two drawers, a bookshelf, a few slightly shrivelled potted plants... and a desk. A desk not unlike that Sarge himself; stubby and comically oversized, especially for the small office.

The office was barely larger than Lyra's cell, and the table occupied a good one-fifth of it. It didn't just make the room appear smaller either. It was a waste, as there were a grand total of three letters on the top.

One of them covered Lyra's case.

"Heartstrings, isn't it."

Lyra flinched and turned her attention to the Sarge. The stallion talked in a slow, baritone voice; the tone seemed belie a dull mind, but Lyra had already learnt how that wasn't completely true. He was only slightly competent at his tasks - the worst kind of competent. He was good enough to make progress, but not good enough to realize when he had started going down the wrong track.

"We've met before." Lyra rolled her eyes. "Twice, actually."

"I still have to make sure I'm interrogating the right prisoner." Sarge sighed and glanced at the paper on his table. In that very moment, he sounded even more worn-out than Lyra. "It's protocol."

You have one prisoner - me! Just who would you confuse me with?! Lyra fumed, wisely keeping her opinion to herself. She simply gave a meek smile and wondered what she was supposed to say.

"Is there anything more you feel like telling me?" Sarge raised his eyebrows, his deep-brown pupils resting square on Lyra's forehead.

Lyra shook her head. She could have also said 'no', but she found the silence somewhat poetic. She clearly didn't have anything to say.

"I see." Sarge nodded and reached for another letter, pulling it onto the one which covered Lyra's case. "Well, we've looked into your story. Turns out there is a Chrysalis... a wanted criminal with a pretty rotten background. The pony you beat up also matches the description."

"You see?! You see! Didn't I tell you?" Lyra snapped forward. She was spirited, she was happy, she was ecstatic - and that showed in her body language as well. She didn't dare more than a lean, however; she still had two troopers on her side. She didn't want to test when the polearms could crack her head.

A sombre nod was all what Lyra's overjoyed expression could elicit from the Sarge. He wasn't moved at all; he must have been anticipating that reaction.

"We are pretty sure it's only a case of a mistaken identity, however. This pony you found shows no signs of hostility. We've been keeping her in an apartment, and she didn't even try to bolt. Heck, she's the most docile pony I've ever met! She's keeping to every order I've given her." He explained slowly, his deep voice reeking of barely hidden disapproval. "I doubt she would put up with my demands were she the fabled Queen of Changelings."

Lyra pulled back. Her eyebrows wrinkled and her head banked to the side; she was wrecking her mind to make some sense of the news. On one hoof, it wouldn't have been unlike Chrysalis to make fools of the Guard. The Queen seemed like the pony who would enjoy the game of subterfuge... as long as she was winning, of course.

But Chrysalis was also full of pride; she wouldn't have humiliated herself.

Nodding to herself silently, Lyra had to concede: no way would the boastful Queen submit to a house-arrest, kowtowing to the whims of some intrepid soldiers. Especially while her changeling horde was being scattered by the Guard.

So... just what is this? What's she planning?

Her nose drooping towards her hooves, Lyra was a complete loss. That was unsettling; she didn't like not knowing what the soul-devouring monstrosity was up to. She would have preferred putting that threat to rest instead. For good, if possible.

"That is quite unlike our good Queen." Snowy cleared her throat. The windigo was propping the wall behind Lyra, pondering the same topic. "It's like she's not the same monster which we've fought."

Lyra bobbed her head a little. She was thinking about the very same thing.

"I wonder if Master's last order was an overkill?" Snowy mused on, her nose pushed upwards by her hoof. "Erasing every memory related to Queen Chrysalis without specifying her to be exempt... is it possible that we wiped her mind clean? I mean, could she have memories that don't relate to her own self?"

Lyra's ears drooped and her lower jaw fell hanging. She hadn't thought of that.

Did I... did I actually beat the Queen that easily? All it would have taken was... one single order?

She closed her mouth and squeezed her eyes shut, wishing the entire office disappeared into some cosmic cataclysm.

I could have done this the very first moment. I could have prevented that whole disaster before it began...!

She turned her head, trying to avert her closed eyes from the painful memories. Regrettable events - which she could have avoided altogether.

"Anyway, I've realized this changes your case a little. Now, I know I've said a few harsh things about you earlier. But I'm also clever enough to know when I need to revise my opinion." Sarge groaned, blissfully unaware of the epiphany Lyra just had. "So I'm letting you go, for now. We'll be taking your teeth-print, of course.. and I'd like you to not leave town until the investigation concludes."

Lyra cracked her eyes open and gave an annoyed glare. She may have been allowed to leave, but she wasn't off the hook. Taking her teeth-print meant that she had become something of a registered criminal. Her nostrils widened and she exhaled loudly; her muscles twitched as she fought with herself. She wanted to scream, to shout, to make a scene; to explain how she had saved the entire town, including those idiots wearing Guard armour...

...but she also knew that it would have been in vain. She had already tried to explain all of that.

Resignation was all she had left. She observed Sarge take a small box from the desk; it was full of blue powder, similar to clay. Then the box floated to her face.

Lyra knew what was expected of her.

She closed her eyes, took a trembling breath and bit onto the box. Twice. Her upper teeth left their mark first, then the lower ones. The clay left a hint of blue on her teeth and tasted horrible; it was like chewing paper, and Lyra couldn't help but chuckle grimly to over the fact.

Such a harmless way to wreck her remaining life.

"Thanks." Sarge forced a grin and took the box back. "You can leave now. Try not to cause any more trouble... you don't want to be brought back here. That clear?"

Lyra sneered in response. She had the urge to repay the smug warning with a hoof to the bastard's face, but her common sense whittled her reaction down to a sarcastic smile.

"Crystal clear."

---

"Hey, Sarge... was she not making things up? Was there really a Queen Chrysalis? I mean, the pony-eating kind?"

Sarge snorted loudly. He was expecting such questions; thankfully, the trooper had the common sense to ask after the troublemaker musician had been escorted out.

"Yep. She's in our bounty book, even!" He chuckled and pointed his hoof at a thin tome on the shelf. The book was on the higher-most shelf and was covered in thick dust. It hadn't been touched since the time they had to cross out the Nightmare Moon entry.

"Oooh... spooky." The young trooper whistled, his eyes glued to the mysterious book. He may had heard of it - in passing, during boot-camp. "Sarge, you've gotta' be one Celestia-bucked genius. I mean, when was the last time anypony had read that thing? How'd you remember anything from that?"

"Ha! It's no big deal." Sarge chuckled once again. He then drew a deep breath, enjoying the aura of superiority that surrounded him. "Being good is why I was made a sergeant, after all."

His smile wasn't completely honest, though. He couldn't bring himself to admit, but he had no idea how he recalled anything about the bounty book... or Chrysalis. He could only remember when the detail clicked - it was during the visit from the local baker, that Pinkie Pie. They were conversing about the recent attack, and then suddenly... he just remembered everything.

Literally so.

The memories simply popped up in his mind. He would have found the fact alarming, were he not so proud of the achievement.

I never realized I'm such a genius, Sarge clicked his tongue. He then took two blank forms from the drawer. Might as well get over with the paperwork while I'm in high mood!

One of the papers was for the discharge of Lyra Heartstrings; the other was for making a note of the musician as a potential danger.

---

The heavy, iron-laden door of the barracks shut with a thundering boom. The oversized door created its own air currents as it moved, the light breeze ruffling Lyra's mane. She squinted on reflex and peeked over her shoulder. Her paranoia was baseless, though; there wasn't a single trooper outside. Nopony was trailing her, nopony was keeping an eye on her. She was really let go.

Meh. Well, some definition of 'being let go'.

She was a registered criminal, after all. From now on, that was going to be one big, ominous cloud hanging over her life.

My life...

Her victory over Chrysalis didn't come easy. She had realised in her cell that she had serious issues recalling most of her life. Her memories were a disjointed mess. Some she couldn't place anywhere and others were so outlandish that she couldn't believe them to have ever happened. For all she knew, she was mistaking her daydreams for actual memories.

Haha... never thought I'd be afraid of my own imagination one day.

"Well, at least that's done and over with," Snowy sighed. The windigo was keeping her eyes closed and her nose arched upwards; she seemed to be enjoying the rays of the setting sun.

"For now." Lyra growled. She was the perfect opposite of her servant; she returned to staring in front of her with a sour expression, her eyes scanning the clouds above. She spotted some pegasi there; the flying ponies were assembling a rather huge block of dark-grey clouds.

There was some rain scheduled, apparently.

Lyra gave them a disapproving glare. The last thing she needed was to get wet.

"Let's go home, Snowy."

"But of course, Master." Snowy produced a graceful bow. She lowered herself to the ground and stayed there, peeking up at her master with an awkward smile on her face.

What's with that face? Lyra raised her eyebrows at the sight, then yanked her head away with a shrug. She had no patience for the windigo's quirkiness at that precise moment. Grinding her teeth in an attempt to work the anger out of her system, she took a step forward... and flinched back.

She suddenly understood why Snowy had stalled. The windigo had no idea which way to go.

Which was too bad, as neither did she.

Home. Where is... home?

Her ears drooping parallel to the ground, Lyra moved her gaze to the left, then back all the way to the right. The street felt familiar, but not familiar enough to get her bearings. Not that knowing where she was would have helped much. She had no idea about her destination either. All she could remember was the rough picture of a house - and nothing more.

Lyra didn't care what anypony could have thought of her. She collapsed into the dust, held a hoof to the side of her head... and broke into a hollering, snort-filled laughter in the middle of the street.

She had absolutely no idea where she was living.

---

Puddles of water gathered on the floor. They were of varying size, the larger ones marking the spots which Lyra had spent more time over.

She was soaking wet.

Water was dribbling from her mane, her tail, her ears, her nose... and virtually every inch of her coat. She was also covered in mud, and smelled like a damp rag that had spent the last week in a bucket.

All lesser concerns, from first to last.

Huddling close to the wall and inspecting the interior as thoroughly as the dim lighting allowed, Lyra was hoping to tell if she had wound up in the right place. Never in her life did she place so much trust in a freaking phonebook.

One misprint and I'm doing a breaking-and-entering.

The thought made her do a nervous gulp. Her chances of explaining that possibility to the Guard were close to zero - from the negative side.

"Fancy place." Snowy mumbled. The sounds of heavy rain mixed into her words; the weather had taken a turn for the worse outside, and the duo hadn't closed the door behind themselves.

"Real fancy," Lyra nodded curtly, her amber eyes darting across the furniture-filled corridor. She liked the design; the stylish furniture made the corners of her mouth curl to a proud smile.

I must've had some pretty nice job, if I were able to afford all this.

A bright flash and explosion-like crackle broke her musing. Both master and servant spun around, towards the entrance. The door was hanging open, the same way as Lyra had left it; the heavy rain was battering the side of the house and was pouring into the corridor, soaking the wooden floor.

Just thunder, Lyra thought and took a deep, trembling breath. She was too much on the edge.

"So you're here at last."

Snapping her head to the noise and backing a step away, Lyra felt her blood pressure and her heartbeat race each other. A beige earth pony was facing her; either an intruder in her home or...

...or I've just entered the wrong house. Frig.

Lyra narrowed her eyes and cocked her head to the side. She couldn't see much of the earth pony's features, but she was obviously calm; way too calm for a pony who had just stumbled into a burglar. It was a bet, but Lyra assumed she got the address right. In which case it was she who ran into a burglar just now.

Well, shoot. This day just keeps getting better and better.

"I was expecting you much earlier." The earth pony scowled and began pacing towards Lyra, her curly blue mane bobbing by her neck. "Care explaining yourself?"

Expecting me...? Explaining myself? Lyra echoed the words in her head. Is this another interrogation?

She flexed every muscle in her body. Every part of her was on full alert; she didn't care for the threatening language. Especially not in her own home. Or, well... her probable home.

"I've told the Guard everything already," she growled.

She realized that she had missed a step - she had completely forgotten to ask who that pony was. Though in the grand scheme of things, details such as names might have been superfluous anyway. She didn't really care who wanted to interrogate her.

"Yes, I know! I've talked with the Guard - and they are my exact worry! SERIOUSLY, JUST WHAT THE HECK DID YOU DO?!" the earth pony blared. Her voice went shrill on zero notice; she was talking normally in one moment and was screaming in the next. "THIS WAS EXACTLY WHAT I'VE TOLD YOU WOULD HAPPEN!"

Lyra was awed by the verbal assault. She took a faltering step backwards and hugged the floor, only getting as far as gulping dryly.

I'm in trouble.

Staring at the beige pony with bulging eyes, Lyra's mind scrambled to put the known facts together. While it had taken her a while to find her home, she hadn't been released from custody so long ago; there was no way strangers could have known about the fact yet. This pony somehow did, however. She had even been waiting for Lyra to come home. Inside the house, no less.

This pony knows a lot about me, Lyra tried to swallow, but only dry, empty air went down her burning throat. And what did she just say? That the Guard is her exact worry? What's with that? Is she some kind of mafia?

Glancing around the expensive furniture for the second time, Lyra reluctantly readjusted her views on her former life. Maybe her lucrative job was more shady than she would have liked. The Guard did seem pretty ready to arrest her, after all. Almost as if they were waiting for a chance.

Holy Celestia! If I was working for some crime gang, then they would think I've talked to the Guard... and then this could be... this earth pony could be...

Cold droplets of sweat joined the rainwater wetting her coat.

This earth pony could be a hitmare sent to silence me.

She hurriedly glanced to her side, to her only weapon. Snowy looked bewildered, as usual - but Lyra knew the windigo would spring into action had she ordered.

"I've done everything! I've told you, I've warned you! That this might happen, that there could be consequences!" The earth pony carried on with her tirade. The loudness of her voice went down considerably, but that made the exasperation and anger in her tone that much more apparent. "But no, you wouldn't listen! You never listen! Well Lyra Heartstrings, you've gone and done it now! Now the Guard is involved! And you know what that means, don't you? That means my hoof is forced! I'll be going to-"

Lyra had absolutely no need to know what that pony was about to do. She had already heard what she needed to hear; she knew that she was in danger. Her choices were pretty limited, though. Fighting would definitely get her into trouble with the Guard; an unappealing prospect.

She bet those armoured numbskulls could never trace a sudden amnesia back to her though!

"Snowy! Make this pony forget about me!" Lyra shouted a hasty order, snapping her head to the left. "HURRY!"

This pony could be dangerous, is what she had left unsaid. There was no need to, either. The windigo could read the situation nicely on her own as well. The crimson eyes and the blue body of Snowy flashed, and a tinge of pain ran through Lyra's skull. She was already lying on the ground, Celestia be thanked; she didn't risk tipping over this way.

The effect was immediate, as always. The beige pony was frozen mid-sentence; her sole reaction was her eyes going wide with shock.

Lyra attributed that to her sudden yell. To most ponies, her shouting orders at thin air must have been a rather bizarre experience.

"Now we'll never know what she was going to do, though." Snowy sighed and hung her head low in dejection. "I wonder if we're going to miss this information later on."

"Doubt it," Lyra growled, then scampered to her hooves with a groan. She wasn't in a big hurry; the earth pony wasn't looking malicious any more.

In fact, the earth pony was still recovering from the shock. She was holding a hoof against her head, only gasping when Lyra moved into her view.

I suppose we really don't know each other now, Lyra eyed the stranger back. Might as well greet you, then.

"Well hello there."

The earth pony gave a muffled shriek and jumped back.

"No need to worry! I mean no trouble." Lyra forced a warm smile onto her face. "I'm Lyra Heartstrings and... well, I'd only like to ask you to leave. Since this is, like, my house."

"Uhh... what?" The earth pony turned her head to the left, giving Lyra a puzzled glare. "No it isn't! I'm Bon... and I'm pretty sure that I would know if you lived here. Since I, for the record, have been living here for years already."

Lyra reared her head back at the claim. She could readily imagine a great deal of possible comebacks, but that wasn't one of them. She passed a stealthy glance at Snowy, only to see her servant the the same confounded. She snapped her eyes back to that Bon-pony and made her mind up.

Not a bad attempt, but it takes a better liar to fool Lyra Heartstrings.

"Well, there's an easy way to settle that!" She squinted at the beige pony. She had finally found her calm voice; she had a pretty good idea how she was going to rid herself of that nuisance. "Let's take a look at the phone book, shall we? That should be quite clear on which of us lives here, right?"

---

The bed creaked loudly, mattress and wooden beams both struggling to cushion the fall. Then they did so again, only much quieter; then once more, for the third time. Then everything fell silent, apart from the sounds of rain battering on the window.

Lyra had finally stopped squirming and settled on the bed.

"What a lousy day," she muttered and breathed in. She enjoyed the smell. The smell of her bed was among the few things she could still remember, and she took great happiness in that.

"That it was. Full of weird twists and turns," Snowy sighed and stretched her ghostly limbs. "Were I a believer of such fantasies, I would have assumed that some greater force was testing us."

Her nose digging into the white bed sheet, Lyra's lip curled to a toothy grin. She had almost forgotten how prone Snowy was to spouting nonsense.

"Still, I wonder if this was all right." Snowy mumbled and stretched again. She didn't finish the exercise; she sprawled out completely instead, ending up flat on her belly.

The tone carried a hint of disapproval, and that sparked Lyra's interest. It wasn't often that Snowy had a dissenting thought. She turned her gaze to the windigo, her head propped on a hoof.

"What wasn't all right?"

Snowy only gave her answer after a pretty long pause. She didn't seem intent on elaborating. Not that she had a choice, given that her master had requested to do so.

"Kicking that Bon pony out, just like that. I mean, it's raining outside... and she did seem pretty honest when she said she had nowhere to go."

Lyra rolled around and sprawled out on the bed. Her mouth was fully open, a burst of wry laughter leaving her lips. To pick that one of all the poor decisions she had made today...

"You're weird!" she giggled, stretching her neck until the windigo was square in the middle of her upside-down world. "Of course she'd say that, duh. Heck! Even I would say that, were I squatting in somepony else's house. You really need to stop taking everything at face value."

"Umm... right, if Master says so." Snowy sighed lengthily, her head rolling lazily to the right. "I will do my best to- ah?"

Her hooves pointing at the ceiling as she laid on her back, Lyra's eyebrows crept towards the floor. She watched the windigo shuffle closer to her - and then continue onwards, moving in under her bed.

Keeping a ghost is remarkably like keeping a cat, Lyra scowled and rolled around. She propped her front hooves against the side of the bed and pushed herself the edge. It was a precarious situation; she was balancing close to tipping over and crashing head-first into the floor.

"I knew I saw something! There's a book here!" Snowy turned her crimson eyes back at her master, her nose prodding a blue book that was lying under the bed. "I may be wrong, but this is quite an odd place to keep a book, isn't it?"

"Yeah. I'd only keep something there if I was trying to hide it." Lyra mumbled. Her horn flashed with amber and the book sprang towards her; she was sitting on her bed seconds later, the book right in front of her. She ran her gaze down the letters adorning the cover page, and her voice almost buckled at the surprise.

"A diary...!"

"Oh! That is most fortunate!" Snowy hopped onto the bed. Her eyes were flashing like rubies; she was excited and energized. "This should be Master's diary, right? Master could use this to recover her memories, right?!"

Lyra yelped and leaned away. She wasn't expecting the windigo to crawl out from under the bed so fast, let alone pop up right next to her. She calmed down in the span of a few disapproving blinks however, and cracked the book open. The pages were full of text - made with black ink and in her own writing.

She gulped, shifted around and started reading.

Oi, oi, oi... this feels pretty creepy. Almost as if I was snooping on myself.