Fairlight - To the Edge of Midnight

by Bluespectre

Chapter Eight - Black Lightning

CHAPTER EIGHT

BLACK LIGHTNING

The origin of the thestral race is one that has been of particular interest to me since my first forays into the heart of the northern wastes. I used to believe that these peculiar creatures were kin to the wendigo or an off shoot or mutation of some kind, however following further investigation this was not to prove the case. Nightmare Moon’s legions were summoned, not from Equestria or the further flung shores of foreign lands, but from what we know as plane of existence known as the Wither World. I had occasion to speak to these beings during their visits to the fortress of the wendigo, and what frightful things they are! They are most certainly equine in general appearance, though as alike to my equestrian brethren as dogs are to cats. I was fortunate enough to have the opportunity to study several of them who were convalescing at the fortress during the early days of the conflict and made sketches and written notes of my findings. This lengthy tome will form another volume to my writings which, I confess, I am excited to begin! In short, upon closer inspection the outward appearance of the thestral is near skeletal, with their bone structure clearly visible in a most disturbing fashion beneath their hide. Indeed, if an equestrian was as emaciated as these creatures appear it would be fair to assume sickness or malnutrition of the most severe kind. All the thestrals I have met thus far bear this feature regardless of general fitness or health, and it does not appear to be related in any way to their diet which, I am sorry to say, is that of a carnivore. Their hides are nearly always dark in hue, consisting of tones of black, green, red, blue and purple, which can be noted under certain light conditions. Their eyes are the next most notable feature and do not look like eyes as we know them at all. They, like their bearers coat colourations, come in variations such as red, white, yellow and blue. But it is their composition and outward appearance which is most striking. The eyes of the thestral flicker and burn like living flames, yet give off no heat. How this incredible feature of these beings came about is unknown to me, although it certainly would be worthy of more investigation. Next are the wings. The thestrals wings are large and cumbersome, somewhat similar in general appearance to that of the race of dragons. Leathery and heavily boned, the wings appear to be more of a hindrance than an asset to this enigmatic race. In point of fact, they often strap their wings down or cover them in armour to keep them out of the way in battle, preferring to fight and move on hoof. I enquired about the use of their wings and was told that, to a thestral, wings are used predominantly for travelling from one point to another. There is no joy of flight here, nor any connection with the sky and birds of the land. Rather, the wings are seen as a tactical asset and no more. Now, I made mention earlier that these creatures are carnivorous in nature, and it is one of the most telling features of this race. Unlike equestrians their teeth are sharp and arranged for tearing, rather than chewing. I am pleased to say that ponies like myself and my country folk are not on the menu, however! Instead, the thestrals eat creatures such as fowl, game, sheep, pigs and cattle as part of their diet. Although disturbing to many, it is not unusual considering the eating habits of other carnivorous races such as the griffins. In short however, the origins of these peculiar creatures are shrouded in the folklore and legends of their seers more than in historical fact. Before the gateway to the Wither World, or ‘Withers’ as it is known colloquially, was opened, nopony had heard of them, nor are there any written records I have been able to find in any of the great libraries of Equestria. Some day I hope to visit their home world and find out more. At least, once this dreadful war has been concluded. Then, I should like to meet them as friend rather than foe. At which time I hope their dietary needs will have remained pony free!

Extract from the personal diary of Star Swirl the Bearded.

“Okay, just what the hell was going on back there, mister?!” Zip Line followed me down the corridor tossing her mane angrily as I made for the locker room. “Don’t you turn your back on me! Fairlight!”

I pulled off my tunic and roughly shoved it onto the hanger. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I don’t give a toss! I want you to tell me-”

“And I said I don’t want to talk about it!” I snapped, glaring back at her over my shoulder. “For buck’s sake, just drop it!”

The black coated mare pushed in closer until we were nearly muzzle to muzzle. “You listen to me, pal. Whether you like it or not we’ve been partnered up together and I have to come up with a report on what went on today, and I haven’t got a bloody clue where to begin!” Zip Line’s eyes narrowed accusingly. “You want to tell me the truth or should I just report the whole thing as it happened? It’s your call.”

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, lifting my panniers up and carefully placed them over my back. “Tell them what you like,” I said biting back an angry retort.

“Yeah, like I can do that!” Zip Line tossed her mane again, the hair bristling on her back a reflection of her rising fury. “Do you know what they’ll do to you, Fairlight? Do you?” She jabbed a hoof at me. “They’ll cleanse your soul. Again! And even then I don’t know whether they’ll accept that as being enough, and-” Zip Line slammed my locker door shut, narrowly missing my muzzle. “Are you listening to me?”

I rounded on her, “What do you want me to say, Zip? We came up against something I’ve never encountered before, and it was only by the grace of the goddess we managed to survive.” I lifted my hoof and she hurriedly backed away a step. “I did what you wanted, I did the herd’s dirty work for them, and now I have to live with what I’ve done. Me, not you. So what more do you want from me, eh? You want more detail? Some simple answer to everything that happened, is that it? Well I’ve got a newsflash for you, ‘missy’: I haven’t got a bloody clue! Is that good enough for your damned report?”

“You don’t know?” she asked in amazement.

“No!” I snorted out my frustration and headed for the door. “Put whatever you bloody well like in the report, Lieutenant. I’m going home.”

Zip Line didn’t follow me. I was angry with her, with the herd, with everything in this whole miserable damned world. The mortal realm had been nothing but suffering for me, and just when things should have been better, in the very place you expected to be left to live out yours days in peace and harmony in the heaven of Equestria - it turned out it was just as bad as the shit-tip you’d just left. Oh it was sugar coated of course, just like it had been in Equestria, and most of the ponies here, like there, saw nothing of the kind of things I’d encountered on my first two assignments. But it was there alright, a festering maggot riddled corpse of lies and deceit that was perpetuated so the souls of the afterlife could exist in peace, far away from the spectre of that most dreadful abomination - reality. For the goddess’s sake, was this how things were meant to be in the herd? Surely there had to be some rhyme or reason behind this, or at least one that made some damned sense anyway. I mean, why the hell did they kill foals? And… Something tickled at the back of my memory. It was a conversation I’d had the last time I was in the Withers, if I recalled correctly. I can’t remember who I’d been speaking to at the time, but it was something about ponies ‘becoming’ thestrals, or something like that. I can remember trying to find out more but my questions were resoundingly rebuffed as though I’d stumbled onto a taboo subject that, although acknowledged, was brushed aside as being no real importance - the proverbial ‘skeleton in the closet’ or the ‘strange relative’ nopony ever talks about. And yet they knew about this business with the foals; of that there was no doubt whatsoever.

I checked my panniers and adjusted my cloak as I trotted home across the fields. It was a beautiful day once again, but none of that made any difference to me now. Sunshine every day. Blue sky every day. Every day… perfect. Hell, right then I would have been happier with a full on storm complete with driving rain, thunder, lightning, and a wind accompaniment that screamed as loud as the howl of the northern winter. Zip Line had wanted me to give her an explanation as to what had happened, but what was I to tell her? Damn it all, even I didn’t know! The wendigo, the spirits of the mountains, were little more than ethereal entities that were attracted to strong emotions. The theatre play regarding the three tribes got that part right at least. But my ability to speak to them, or ‘project my thoughts’ at them which was probably the nearest to what I actually did that I made any sense, had come so far out of left field that I’d been as shocked by it as Zip Line was.

The state my emotions had been in since arriving in the herd had left my memories and my sense of self in utter disarray, and yet now… now I felt more like myself in an odd sort of way. I’d begun to recall faces, names, and events which I’d forgotten until now. Was this meant to happen? Hell fire, how was I supposed to know that? Everything was both confusing and yet making total sense simultaneously, creating a shifting sense of who and what I was ‘then’ with who and what I was ‘now’. It was a disorientating blend of confused thoughts that I hoped and prayed would resolve themselves over time. And time was something I didn’t necessarily have. I had Star Swirl to thank for that. My meeting between him and Maroc had never been far from my mind, but since that day I hadn’t heard anything more from him. Nor, more concerningly, had I heard from Shadow, Tingles, or Lumin. Meadow barely mentioned them now, and rather selfishly I had been living from day to day in the moment, pretending that everything was fine, that it was all going to work itself out.

Some hope…

The cottage was in darkness when I arrived. I didn’t bother to knock, there didn’t seem much point really in any case. Retrieving the heavy brass key I let myself in and carefully hung up my cloak, placing my panniers on the table before opening the fridge door to look for something suitable to eat. There were some hayburgers, alfalfa nuggets, cheese, fruit bars, juice, and some other assorted items that looked decidedly more like ingredients rather than an actual meal. To me and my limited culinary skills, food was divided into one of two categories: meals and ingredients. One I could eat, the other was something that was magically metamorphosed into the former by a power far greater than I could comprehend. It was a talent I had little aptitude for, and therefore left it to those whose domain I was currently intruding in. But as always, needs must, and I fished out a box of eggs. At the very least I could make an omelette with the cheese and tomatoes. I began to scour the cupboards and located the mixing bowl, a fork, and with the application of a little magic soon began the process of converting the dreaded ingredients into what, I hoped, would be something approached being edible. Mostly.

A few minutes later and the gastronomic delights produced by yours truly had begun to fill the kitchen with the inviting smell of cooking eggs and melting cheese. This time I’d even avoided having the smoke detector shrieking in my ear too, so that was definitely a bonus so far as I was concerned. I hadn’t realised it had been possible to burn cereal, but ever since then I’d been effectively barred from the kitchen in favour of the family chef who didn’t try to burn our home down every time they attempted something culinary. Personally I thought that was a little unfair. It had only been a small fire after all. I’ll say one thing for cooking though: It was therapeutic. The simple act of making a meal, even if it wasn’t anything particularly special, had a pleasant calming effect on me which I sure as hell needed right then. My heart hadn’t stopped thundering since I’d left Zip Line in the locker room, and as much as I felt guilty at my snubbing her, at the same time I believed I was fully justified in my outrage at such blatant acts of barbarity that the so called ‘royal guard’ engaged in because ‘that was the way it was’. Of course there was always the chance that Zip had been mistaken, but I doubted it. And if that wasn’t bad enough as it was, I had the decidedly unpleasant feeling that there were those, like Thalio, who would probably enjoying wringing the necks of helpless creatures simply because they were different. If I found him doing something like that I’d wring his damned neck, and enjoy doing it to, the filthy, blasted… Oops! I took the omelette off the stove and flipped it onto the plate just in time. Next, I poured out a glass of fruit juice, poured some more into a bowl, and cut the omelette in half, placing the other half on a plate next to the bowl.

Beside me, the pannier moved.

A faint snuffing noise and scrabbling emanated from within the pack that was normally stuffed with my civilian clothing or any other assorted odds and ends I could cram in there. It was certainly not intended for the kind of transport I had pressed it into service for this time, but needs must when the devil drives. And another need had to be catered for now too. I couldn’t help but raise a relieved smile as the snuffing intensified, growing louder as a small black muzzle tentatively pushed its way out of the unlatched flap, homing in on the hot cheese and tomato omelette. Watching quietly I tucked into my own meal as a slender foreleg emerged, soon followed by the other. A small black coated skeletal face with two small red flames for eyes peered out, and began to move slowly but surely towards the steaming food. I kept eating, pretending to ignore the small creature, but I knew she was watching me just as curiously as I was her. Carefully, the black muzzle inched ever closer to the omelette. Sniff. Sniff. Sniff. The tiny nose drew in the rising steam, and quick as a flash a small blue tongue darted out and took a taste. In the blink of an eye she was out of the pannier and on her prey, tearing chunk after chunk off the hot gooey omelette, gulping it down with complete abandon. For a second I worried I’d left it too hot for her. After all, she was only a child and they were normally delicate things that needed constant care and observation. To an adult a home was a home, but to a foal it was a death trap of boiling kettles, hot pans, lit fires, and plummeting falls from chairs. I hadn’t been here when my daughter was born, and by the time I arrived in the herd she’d grown up considerably. But that certainly didn’t mean she wasn’t capable of bumping into things or hurting herself accidentally. Add curiosity and wings into the equation and you had a recipe for disaster. Speaking of wings, the tiny thestral’s own wings were utterly adorable. They were so small! I chuckled under my breath, watching her as she ate. What a strange creature she was. I couldn’t fathom for the life of me how she had changed from a pony to the skeletal child I saw before me now. Oh sure, Zip Line had given me a very brief explanation, but it didn’t seem possible somehow. In fact, if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes there was no way I would have ever believed such an implausible story. That said, I was hardly an expert on magic. I remember Meadow trying to teach me more of the intricacies of magic with a copy of ‘Thaumaturgical Fundermental’s’ once. The author had lied. The enormous tome was far from being any fun at all and was more akin to stuffing your brain into a blender and trying to put the resultant mess back together. I’d tried to explain my hypothesis to my wife of course, that ponies didn’t need to know the ins and outs of how magic actually worked, only to be reminded that the book was intended for ‘ages four and up’. I was definitely in the ‘up’ category, and boy did I feel it! Blasted nonsense. You learned by doing. I learned by doing. I could lift objects, float them around, manipulate them. Hell, I could ever create fire! Well, a very small one. It was handy for lighting pipes and cigars or as a makeshift lantern, and I went down a storm at parties with that trick. But as for teleportation, floating in the air in bubbles of magic or working with complex spell matrices? Um… no. No, that was where Meadow came in and left me to the more ‘manual’ applications. Now on the other hoof, when it came to my wendigo magic, now that was the good stuff! I could turn things into icicles, blast ponies into pieces with… I could draw the life energy from… I hung my head and sighed. Was that all that I could do? Float a few objects, light a flame the size of a lit match and… kill. At least I could fly, right? I could soar and swoop and… Yeah, right. I used to be able to do that.

A chirrup followed by an uncomfortable hiccuping noise pulled me from my melancholy mental ramblings, and back to the tiny thestral on the kitchen table. She’d gulped down the omelette that was almost as big as she was in record time. Now the reaction I should have foreseen, began. Wind. I should have cut it up, given it to her piece by piece. But oh, no! Dimwit here let her scoff the lot like a starved dog and now she was hiccuping beside herself. I reached over for the bowl of fruit juice which was promptly knocked flying to splash all over the chair and floor. Thankfully it was only wood, but now I had a bigger problem on my hooves. Quickly I scooped her up unresistingly and put her over my shoulder. Sitting on my haunches was ideal for this, and I held her in my forelegs, rubbing her back as I’d seen Tingles do with Lumin when he was near ready to pop.

“It’s alright little one,” I cooed. “One good burp and we’ll be right as-”

KRA-BOOM!

“Urp.”

I blinked. Light slowly began to reassert itself in what was left of the once pristine kitchen. The thestral looked up at me and smiled, gurgling happily as a tiny wisp of smoke drifted up from her muzzle. The after image of black lightning was seared into my retinas as much as the smell of burnt wood from what was left of the window frame clogged my nostrils. Slowly, I turned round, watching in open mouthed horror as the last piece of glass dropped from the ragged hole above the draining board to join its shattered brethren. The small window that looked out onto the garden, my beautiful garden, was now fragments of exploded… bits. BITS! What the hell was I going to do now?! Oh Celestia, what was I going to tell Meadow?! ‘Hello love, sorry about the hole in the wall, but you know how kids are, right? Oh, and by the way, have you met our new thestral foal? The royal guard wanted to kill her so I smuggled her out of the mortal realm and brought her here. Now we can carry on like one big happy family!’

I was doomed. Utterly, absolutely, and completely doomed.

It was far too late in the day to even attempt to fix it, and I sure as hell was no trained glazier by any stretch of the imagination. The best I’d be able to do would be to fashion a board and nail it over the hole until I could get a professional to look at it. That said, I was meant to be at work first thing in the morning and Meadow was still at her parents home, no doubt cursing her hapless husband to the heavens over our latest row. And here I was, alone, with a foal. And a thestral foal at that! Oh, gods, help me… There had to be something I could do to get this little thing to where she belonged. I already had two children and I could barely cope with Sparrow as it was, let alone taking on another, and a thestral foal at that. Not that I had anything against thestrals of course, Shadow was a thestral after all, but… but she was fully grown, not a… a child! I let out a groan and covered my head with my forelegs to keep my collapsing world from taking me with it into the depths. This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be happening! I had to stop panicking and keep my wits about me if I was ever going to make head nor tail of this lunacy. Come on Fairlight, there had to be something you could do! I took a deep breath, doing my best to clear my mind. Wasn’t there somepony I could speak to? Somepony who was neutral, that understood thestrals, and could… Of course! Oh goddesses, it was so obvious! Shadow wasn’t the only thestral I knew, and she’d visited my home not long after I’d died. How the hell could I have forgotten her? Relief washed over me like a bucket of cold water and I nearly collapsed to my knees with relief. Like her name, there was hope after all. A Glimmer of hope.

Some time later, with the window boarded up, the debris swept up the best I could and the thestral foal curled up on the rug in front of the fire snoozing quietly with a full tummy, I collapsed onto the settee and placed the prize of prizes on the table beside me. It had been well worth the trip to the shed even in the dead of night, and not just to find the wood I needed to board up the broken window either. Here lay my holy grail, my escape route from the world and all its intendant troubles. I closed my eyes, feeling for the jar with my magic, opened the lid... and inhaled. It was absolutely heavenly. ‘Fuddlestones Best Shag’. I’d managed to get my hooves on some of this delightful course cut tobacco from one of the guys at the barracks. It was ideal for pipes; it packed in nicely and my magic was just the ticket for fiddly work like this. As usual I’d misplaced my tamper, but the blunt end of a pencil from my stationery drawer did good enough service for this job. Meadow would fillet me if she knew, but what the hell. I needed this right now, and an irate mare complaining about the ‘funny smell’ was the least of my worries.

A lick of flame, a few puffs, and the grey-blue smoke of my own little slice of heaven began to relax parts of me that no amount of bathing or showers could ever reach. I could almost feel my muscles and mind beginning to unwind in my tobacco induced little world of bliss as nearby the foal yawned and smacked her lips with a sigh, echoing my own sentiments to a tee. What a strange little thing she was! So small. So fragile. Emaciated in appearance as all thestrals looked, she had scoffed the omelette down without skipping a beat before drinking half a bottle of carrot and orange juice. I watched her from my comfortable perch with a stupid smile spread across my face. She really did look like a miniature version of Shadow, from her teeth to her mane, right down to the tip of her tail. The similarity wasn’t surprising considering that thestrals did tend to look alike, and there was no cutie mark to help distinguish them from one another either. It was the little things: coat hue, teeth, eye colour, build and so forth, that identified the individual nature of this curious race. I suppose to thestrals we ponies were the weird looking ones. We were a race of rainbow coloured creatures who, although equine, were as alien to them as they were to us. Personally I’d taken to them very quickly. I expect that when you’ve lived amongst an alien culture long enough, the differences between races ceased to matter anyway. A case in point was Shadow. She was, to many ponies, absolutely terrifying. One of the tribe had even thought she was one of the ponies of the apocalypse of all things! Death come on wings of pure darkness to claim their soul, or some such nonsense. Well, I don’t know about a soul, but she’d certainly claimed my heart. As had Tingles, Lumin, Meadow and Sparrow. Sometimes I wondered if there was enough of me to go around, but it all seemed to work. After a fashion. I took out a bottle of Grimble’s brandy and poured myself a measure, taking in the sharp aroma of spirit berries and alcohol that made my nose tingle. It was my last bottle, and who knew when I would be able to get another. I looked up at the globe on the mantle piece and smiled sadly. I hadn’t heard nor seen my family in Smiling Borders for so long now I was beginning to accept that they had in all likelihood simply moved on with their lives. Maybe Tingles had found somepony else and was rebuilding her life as well as her home. I couldn’t blame her if she did, I was dead after all, living in the next world while she and the tribe lived in the small hamlet on the edge of the Everfree Forest. I’d had such good times there. Such good, good times…

*******************

It was so peaceful here, far from the noise of the towns, far even from the clamour of battle and the sounding of trumpets calling us to war. The corridors of blue ice, a blend of magic and the natural materials of the earth, surrounded me like an impenetrable labyrinth protecting my family and people from the cruelty of the others who would see us disappear from this world. The ice had been forged into such wondrous creations that scarce seemed real to those unfamiliar with the great works of the wendigo. The fortress itself had been built millennia ago, back when the tribe was a fledgeling race trudging through the blinding snow to escape the petty squabbles and bickering that typified the equestrian race. Most of the equestrian race. Here those who had sought a new path had built a home to be proud of. Not just for them, but for their children, and their childrens children. It was a monument to last the ages and to outlast the foolishness of the three tribes, they who were so hell bent on total self destruction. Here was where my ancestors belonged, and where I too belonged. They called to me, singing me to sleep in the gentle embrace of our home. Foals played in the corridors, their happy sounds a reminder of the carefree days of my own youth and a sign that all was well in the world. In our world. I turned over in the huge bed, sliding the pure white cotton sheets up to my muzzle with a deep sigh as I gazed at the window overlooking the mountain range. Wisps of cloud caught the sun’s rays, reflecting a deep orange hue the colour of a well made log fire. Even though I didn’t feel the cold, not as others, I still welcomed it, embraced it, and felt a thrum of joy singing through my veins as it filled my heart.

Wake up.

It was morning, but what was the rush to get up? I was safe here. My whole tribe were safe. There was food, wine, and best of all, good company.

Wake up. There is danger here.

Danger? I chuckled to myself and snuggled into the pillows. How ridiculous! It was as quiet as the fresh fall of snow. Shadow, Tingles and Meadow were out playing with the children, leaving me to do as I pleased until lunch time. There was plenty of time to lay around, and by the goddess I intended to squander it as much as I pleased. I’d have breakfast muffins with jam and butter when I eventually got up, with a hot cup of sweet tea with sugar and milk too. Oh, what sheer decadence! I could taste it already.

WAKE UP!

What was that? I pulled the covers over my head to block out the insistent pestering. It wasn’t Meadow was it? Oh gods, I bet it was. I’d probably forgotten to wash the dishes or something equally bloody irrelevant in the great scheme of-

SSSSSSSSSS...

“Wh… Wha-?” I blinked in surprise at the loud hissing sound coming from… right next to me! “Shi-!” In my sleep induced fuse, I flinched just in time to avoid something whizzing past my right ear and bursting through the back of the settee in plume of stuffing. Everything happened in a flash, quite literally, but not of light. The thestral foal must have snuggled into me as I slept and was now pressing into me with her back to me. In front of us in the gloom a figure stood holding what was quite clearly a crossbow in their forelegs. They were in the process of reloading it when a shriek of black lightning burst from the foal with a deafening crack. Half asleep, squashed between the foal and the settee, I was effectively helpless. My foal however, was far from it. The lightning seared across my vision, hitting the wall and blasting pieces of plaster and broken painting fragments in all directions. For my assailant it was clearly too much, and they turned and fled from the room. A moment later I floated the foal away from me and onto the floor as I pulled myself from the ruined settee. My mind was a blank. My body however had no need for such a hindering organ however, and instead acted on pure instinct. I hurled myself into the hallway, ducking as the expectant crossbow bolt fizzed over my head. Whoever it was was a damned good shot, I’ll give them that. Unfortunately for them, they weren’t quite good enough. My hind legs powered me up and forward, surging towards the door and the empty space where my attacker had been barely a heartbeat ago. Dodging around the door, ducking, seeking cover behind the garden stool store… I was alone. The gate was closed. The garden utterly silent.

A light chirrup behind me tugged at my attention, pulling me away from any pursuit. Not that I could have anyway; the attacker, whoever or whatever they were, was long gone. Magic perhaps? No, I doubted it. Teleportation required a high degree of proficiency in magic, and left not only a telltale flash but my horn hadn’t itched once. That suggested either somepony who was incredibly fast and could clear the gate in one jump, or one with wings. Despite the thundering of my heart I hadn’t heard the sound of hooves, so an assassin with wings seemed the most plausible explanation. But why? I had enemies certainly, but in the paradise of the eternal herd any such negative emotions were supposedly suppressed or removed. Supposedly. And besides, why now? I’d been here some time now and the only thing I’d done to upset anypony was rescue this tiny life from being ‘purged’. I’d not told anypony what I’d done and surely this didn’t constitute the kind of offence that warranted state sanctioned murder? Only the gods knew for sure, and they were now well and truly on my official suspect list, along with more ponies than I cared to recall. I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised something like this would happen sooner or later. I’d made plenty of enemies in my life, many of whom would have harboured grudges against me for what I did, rightly or wrongly. Fairlight was certainly no angel, dead or alive.

My heart was still hammering in my chest as I leaned against the now closed front door, breathing harder than I had since my arena sparring session. I had to keep my wits about me and my senses keen. Any possibility of sleep was out of the question now. Besides, the little foal was wide awake and chattering incessantly, walking backwards and forwards in a state of not inconsiderable agitation. And who could blame her? If it wasn’t for her I’d be a blank soul by now, reincarnated into something only the goddess knew what, and the old Fairlight would simply cease to be. As much as that may appeal to some who had tired of eternity in paradise, for me it was a terrifying prospect and one that I didn’t want for either myself or the little thestral. I quickly picked her up and put her on my back. It was the best place for her right then, and the best for my peace of mind knowing where she was. I was well aware that another attack could come at any moment, despite the possibility being remote. With the attacker foiled and clearly not wanting to be seen, he, or she, was likely to be long gone. The foal chirruped at me again, watching me close the curtains and bolt the doors. I was short on weaponry to be sure. No sword, no axe, no nothing - only a long bladed knife I’d purloined from the kitchen cupboard. If was attacked by carrots or swede they’d be in some real trouble.

Morning came with the familiar chorus of garden birds I used to enjoy listening to whilst lying beside my wife in bed. Instead of this more idyllic start to the day I was in the kitchen, jacked up on copious amounts of caffeine and listening for even the barest hint of any sound I didn’t recognise. The foal was with me, as safe as she could be with an assassin’s target sat next to her. The grandfather clock chimed: One. Two. Three. Four. Five o’clock. Good goddesses, I’d been up all this time left with a sleeping child, my strained nerves, and my own damnable thoughts for company. Reasons, possibilities, motives: none of my many hypotheses were any good, and there were simply too many to count in any case. Far too many. The worst of the bunch were already in the bowels of Tartarus. Some, like Velvet Cream, were still out there. Velvet however was just a stooge. I knew that. The real brains behind murdering my then pregnant wife and the attempt on my life, was the Watch Commissioner. She was the one who had masterminded the whole damned thing. As to precisely why, I was still unsure. On the surface it was to do with smuggling weapons in from the human world, and as a watchstallion heading the investigation I had apparently been a little too effective in thwarting their efforts. But like a gangrenous limb, the rot went far deeper than the surface suggested. The commissioner had also had a hoof in the invasion of the changelings, and from what I could tell there was a far larger plan at play here. Perhaps one to unseat the princesses themselves from power. As far fetched as it seemed, the pieces were all slotting into place one after another. Canterlot had been attacked, large numbers of non-equestrian weapons imported, and changelings in the very heart of Equestria conspiring with the commissioner along with that human that looked like a pony, Annabelle, all combined to create a state of affairs that sounded like something out of a cheap crime novel. Or a paranoid lunatics ramblings. Whatever had happened to the human I neither knew nor cared, despite allegedly carrying my child. What I did care about was what that damned wizard had told me about Vela targeting my son, Lumin. Vela’s deranged vision of re-establishing the tribe of the four winds as a power base to topple the equestrian elite sounded like the ravings of a mad pony. How much truth there was in it was debatable, but I couldn’t take a chance when it came to my son’s safety. Not that I could do anything about it now. The dead couldn’t simply come back to life, no matter how much we wished it to be true. In my case there had been that tentative link, that ‘spark, that others had fanned back to a blaze so I could do their dirty work for them. The princesses had used me as their puppet, as well intentioned as it may have been. I certainly had no love for Celestia, nor her for me, but she had been true to her word and returned the lands to the tribe. Such as they were. A ruined fortress, a mass of dangerous forest alive with creatures that could tear you apart in the blink of an eye, and a small hamlet of rickety cottages was hardly what you could call prime real estate. Even so, I had no doubt that there would be a price for all of that magnanimity, and that would be my compliance in the white alicorn’s political machinations.

Still, I suppose it was a little late for that now.

I sighed and rubbed my temples with a weary hoof. I was hot, sticky, and desperately uncomfortable. I wanted nothing more than to slip into the shower and wash all the sweat and dirt off my fur, but that would have left me open to being snuck up on again should our ‘friend’ decide to return and finish the job. I don’t know whether I’d read one too many crime thrillers, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to find out the hard way. Instead, a wash with a sponge and a quick rub over with a towel for both myself and my new companion was the order of the day. The thestral took it all in her stride, chirruping and clicking at me in her own childish attempts at speech. Meanwhile I pulled on my panniers, stuffed the last of the supplies I’d been able to squirrel away into them any which way I could, and adjusted the saddle harness. I didn’t normally wear such oddities – they were the domain of the more ‘fashion conscious’ - but this one had been used by Meadow to carry Sparrow around when she was only a tot. Not that she was much bigger now anyway, but short of tying her down the energetic little pest was more than capable of flying out of forelegs reach in the blink of an eye, effectively negating the use of said saddle basket. I’d suggested sticky tape once, only to receive a whack on the muzzle for my attempt at humour. Everypony’s a critic I suppose.

The thestral watched me happily, quietly letting me wrap her up in a hooded onesie that I’d absolutely hated when I’d first laid eyes on it. Of course Meadow liked the damned thing, but personally I thought it made Sparrow look ridiculous. Now it had come out of retirement - narrowly avoiding becoming future rags for my shed - to hide a young thestral from the inquisitive gaze of curious equines. For myself a long overcoat did the job of hiding my cutie mark, and with the application of a smart hat for my noggin the entire ensemble made me look like any old grey stallion out with his daughter for the day. Or at least I hoped it would. The real question though was how I going to reach the thestral realm. I could go to Meadow’s parents home and speak to my absent wife of course, but I couldn’t face bringing trouble to her or her folks. No. This was my task now, and my task alone. I was all too aware how trouble followed me everywhere I went and I’d seen too many friends and loved ones fall to risk Meadow, Sparrow, Merry and Pop in yet another of my madcap schemes. It was time for me to cast off the comfy, cosy life here in paradise and reclaim the old Fairlight. The real Fairlight.

“Guess this is it then, little one.” I gave the thestral a tickle, smiling at her purring response. What a fascinating cre- No. No, she was not a ‘thing’, she was a living, breathing being, and one whom I owed my life to. As such, she should have a name. It came to me immediately. “Shades,” I said quietly. It was the name I’d given Shadow when I’d first met her and assumed her to be one of the less sentient denizens of that world of black sand. Shades… A child born of pain and darkness, born to a world that had no place for her. She was in truth a shade, here in the paradise where there should only be gentleness, compassion and love. An idealistic view that I doubted had ever truly existed, nor perhaps ever could. Shades. Or perhaps something that didn’t sound like a dodgy pop star or a pair of sunglasses. Hmm… Shade. Yes. Yes, that would suit her perfectly. “Shade,” I said to her with a nod. “Do you like that, love?”

“Ack!”

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’ then,” I chuckled.

Sometimes life, or death, had a strange way of throwing you a smile when all you could see was darkness and helplessness. Or was it because here, in this world of uncertainty and unseen possibilities, I was truly at home. Maybe. How the hell should I know? When I was a foal I used to think that there was this magical period in your life when you became an adult that suddenly all the answers to life were revealed to you. What a load of bollocks that turned out to be! All I found out about growing older was that you ceased to be cute in the eyes of those around you and ponies simply began to see you as just another adult. You weren’t special, you weren’t important to anypony, you were just… you. Some of my school friends had gone on to bigger things in life, whilst others took on the more mundane, dare I say ‘normal’ life, of job, house, wife, and two point four kids. But all of them had one thing in common: none of them had kept in touch. Thick as thieves at school, and now it was as if we’d never known each other. I think in my case it was just as well really. Who the hell would want to be mixed up in the crap I’d had thrown at me since joining the watch? But that was the nexus of the watch, wasn’t it? The watch became your family. Your workmates were more than your friends, they were your comrades, you teammates. And all of it, every single solitary crumb of it, was a lie. When the edifice of fellowship and caring crumbled away, the whole lot fell like a rotten stump in a thunderstorm. Nopony truly cared. When the crap hit the fan and you needed somepony to stick their neck out to speak up for you, all they cared about was themselves. You couldn’t blame them really, sticking your head above the parapet was likely to get you a crossbow bolt through your skull and a one way ticket to the afterlife – metaphorically or literally. No, my view of friends had changed a lot since those idealistic days of my youth. It was fun to be with them, laugh and drink with them, but when it came down to the wire, there was only one pony I could truly rely on, and that was myself. Who else would have my own best interests more at heart? Perhaps I was being a little cynical, but the evidence spoke for itself. Even my loved ones: Meadow, Tingles, Shadow, and all the tribe. Self preservation outweighed loyalty, friendship, and even on occasion... love. To sacrifice yourself to save the one you loved was an ideal, and one that had once meant a great deal to me. By the goddess, how idealistic I’d been. And how foolish.

A soft feeling of something pushing into my back followed by a purring, clicking sound, made my mane shiver. It was such a gentle feeling, such a simple gesture, and yet one that conveyed more meaning than words could ever hope to evoke. Shade watched me from under her hood, her head cocked on one side curiously. “I’m alright, love,” I said with a smile. I locked the front door and slipped the key into its usual hiding spot under the plant pot. “Ready for off?”

“Ack!”

I couldn’t have put it better myself. And so, closing the gate behind us, two unlikely travellers trotted off up the long road from the cottage that lead to town.

********************

Haven. At first glance it was little more than a larger version of Ponyville where I’d worked before transferring to Manehattan. It was hardly what you’d call a bustling metropolis, but then in the herd medieval chic was all the rage - sarcasm notwithstanding of course. Ponies dressed in the latest fashions trotted about lost in their own little worlds, as indeed was I to some extent. I didn’t want to bump into anypony I knew, and the bundled up thestral on my back was, thank the goddess, mercifully quiet throughout our journey. Whether it was because she sensed the danger she was in or simply that she was tired, didn’t matter. It was the end result that we needed here, and that was in front of me now: the rather unimaginatively name ‘Tourist Information Office’. Tourism. In the afterlife. How deliciously surreal! I’d never been here before. Meadow and I had always planned on visiting the thestral realm to see Glimmer and her family, yet it had been put off time after time. And I knew why too; it was because of me. I’d been too ‘ill’ to travel according to the doctors, and Meadow didn’t want to take a chance on it affecting me. And so, we simply hadn’t gone. Now, I had no choice in the matter.

The tourist information office was a small round building with a tall pointed roof and a highly polished weather vane sitting on top, reminding me of a rather large cupcake. Posters promoting popular destinations, upcoming events and any manner of holiday resorts, littered the walls, many of them simply glued over previous ones. The doorbell tinkled pleasantly as I entered this mysterious world of possibilities, unveiling a myriad of leaflets and yet more brightly coloured promotional material. Whoever worked here was apparently lacking in motivation however, at least judging by the still prominent poster that hung on a large easel advertising the water festival that had already been and gone. Beyond the easel, behind the desk with its towers of brochures that nearly every home had languishing forgotten in the bottom of seldom opened cupboard drawers, lounged a red and white patched mare quietly reading a book. She adjusted her spectacles and turned the page as I approached.

“Good morning,” I said politely.

The mare didn’t move. “We don’t open for another hour yet,” She announced, waving a hoof indicating the clock on the wall. It was exactly eight o’clock.

“The sign says ‘open’ on the door,” I said politely, “and there’s no opening times on there.”

The mare continued reading her book. “The opening times are on the desk in front of you and on the backs of the brochures.”

My mane began to twitch irritably. “Both of which are inside the shop,” I pointed out.

The mare’s voice retained its monotone pitch as she replied simply, “We open at nine.”

“But you’re here now!” I was starting to lose my temper and felt my ear twitch, a sure sign I was going to end up saying something I’d probably regret later.

The mare sighed and closed her book with an emphatic snap before slowly rising to her hooves. In a display of exaggerated effort she turned to face me, her brown eyes locking onto mine as she adjusted her spectacles. “We open at nine,” she said dangerously. “Please come back then and I will be delighted to attend to your every holidaying whims, no matter how...” She tailed off, her gaze sliding past my face to the bundle on my back.

“Urk! Ack!”

The mare’s eyes went wide, “Wha… What’s that on your back?!”

“I’ve...” I’ve what? A thestral foal I brought from the mortal realm? She’d have the royal guard on me faster than you could blink. I had to think of something fast before she began yelling. “I’ve been looking after my niece,” I explained politely. “It’s time for her to go home and I need to arrange travel to the thestral realm. Adult and one child, please.”

The mare narrowed her eyes and peered at me warily. “I don’t recall a thestral foal ever coming through the portal. I think I would have remembered something so unusual.”

I hung my head and sighed loudly, “Madam, I have two foals of my own already. One here in the herd, and one in the mortal realm. I’ve been looking after my friend’s daughter while she’s been away visiting relatives. Now, I may not look like it, but I can assure you that I am this child’s uncle, and have been acting as her guardian whilst she’s been staying with my family.” I put my hoof on the desk and she watched it like it was a rattlesnake poised ready to strike. “I’m sure that as a mare you will be well aware how a child can put the most strenuous demands on your attention day and night, especially one as young as this.” I tried what I hoped was the kind of a smile only a desperate parent could give. “Please, she misses her mother, and I miss my sleep!”

The mare rolled her eyes, “I suppose I can help. Even if it is before nine.” She clucked her tongue and began rummaging under the desk. “When were you planning on going?”

“Now.”

She paused, “What, like now, now?”

“Do you have any idea what a thestral is like when they get cranky?” I asked. I leaned across the desk conspiratorially. “They burp… lightning.”

The mare’s eyes shot open, “No!”

I nodded. “Kitchen window destroyed, painting in the lounge obliterated, re-plastering, re-painting, the list goes on and on.” It wasn’t far from the truth. I groaned and gave her my best ‘foal eyes’ impression. “My wife’s away with her parents because her nerves can’t handle it any more. She doesn’t know the half of the damage the little pest has done while she’s been away, and I have to get the repairs done before she comes home! Please!” I sniffed and held my foreleg up to my face. “I can’t cope, I… I just...”

A large book appeared in front of the mare like magic. “It’s alright, sir, don’t worry, we’ll get you on your way.” She quickly began leafing through the book, “Honestly, I thought you were just another of those weirdos wanting tickets for ‘The adventures of Marbles the magic farting horse’ which is playing here next week. You wouldn’t believe how many stallions have been midering me for those! Hundreds I tell you, hundreds! Why anypony would want to see something so depraved is simply mind boggling!”

“I’ve never heard of it,” I said in genuine surprise. “Don’t they censor things like that?”

“Oh, it’s all about ‘shock value’ and ‘pushing the boundaries of taste’ or some such rubbish.” The mare adjust her spectacles and ran a hoof down the page. “I’m frankly amazed that anypony would find such perverted tripe entertaining in the slightest. Ah! Here we go.” She tapped her hoof on an entry. “We had a cancellation and can fit you in for a portal jump this afternoon at two. I’ll need to arrange some travel papers first, and once that’s sorted you can be on your way.” She took a breath, “Right then!” A large sheet of paper was deposited in front of my muzzle along with a quill and ink. “Name?”

“Fairlight Loam,” I said. “Rose Tree Cottage, Little Haven.”

“And the little one?”

“Shade.”

“Hmm.” The mare looked up at me, “Typical thestral name. And you’re the guardian, yes?”

“Acting guardian,” I replied. “Her mother is Glimmer of the tribe of the Beyond.”

“Ah, yes, the whole ‘tribal’ thing.” She raised an eyebrow, “We had one through here a little while ago, you know. Terrifying creature! Eyes like flames and so thin you could see her bones! She was positively emaciated! Anyway, we have a policy here of keeping them covered up so they don’t frighten ponies. Some of them here died at the hooves of those beasts.”

“I can imagine...” I said, biting back a reply. Nothing like a little racism to warm the cockles of your heart, was there?

“Well I’m glad you understand, Mr Loam,” the mare said with a nod of her head. “And I’m pleased to see you keep your, erm… ‘niece’, covered up too. There are those who aren’t happy with travel between the realms as it is, and it’s only allowed through the good graces of the royal family.”

“Praise the gods,” I said with a formal bob of my head.

“Praise them indeed.” The mare and I completed the form, and duly two tickets were produced along with yet another piece of paper.

“What’s this?” I asked.

“Standard waiver,” the mare explained. “Whenever a pony travels to dangerous realms they have to sign a waiver to agree that they are taking the journey at their own risk.”

“Are the portals that dangerous?” I asked in surprise.

The mare chuckled, “Not the portals, silly. The other realms. They’re full of dangerous creatures like…” She paused.

“Like thestrals?” I finished for her.

“Exactly!” the mare nodded, passing me the tickets. “Now don’t miss the portal time or we’ll not be able to re-schedule until next week, okay?”

“Got it.” I levitated the tickets from the counter and slipped them into my breast pocket. “And thank you, you’ve been very helpful.”

“You’re most welcome,” the mare smiled broadly. “Try not to get yourself eaten will you?”

“I’ll do my best,” I smiled.

I bobbed my head in thanks and left, quietly seething to myself. What an experience! I knew ponies and thestrals were far from what you might call friendly with one another, but for goodness sake, eaten? Considering what she’d said earlier I wasn’t convinced she’d been joking either. I cast my mind back to when I’d first met Shadow. I hadn’t been frightened of her in the slightest despite her appearance, and yet ponies… were still ponies. Life in the watch had doubtless hardened me to the kind of sights that would have had many running for the hills at a full gallop, but I could still understand how the sight of a thestral could cause alarm. They were thin, painfully thin, and their dragon-like wings and fiery eyes were bound to create consternation upon encountering one for the first time. Even so it didn’t make the prejudice any easier to stomach, and worse was that here I was taking one of them back to her own people. But what else was I to do? I knew nothing about thestral foals, and Meadow wouldn’t accept her, that was for damned certain. We already had a foal of our own and managing a child that could blow your head off with nothing more than a careless belch was something we couldn’t deal with. Not least because our marriage was hardly doing well right then without throwing yet another spanner in the works. Still, part of me felt a horrible pang of guilt at giving Shade up to what was effectively adoption. I groaned, feeling the terrible weight of the tickets in my pocket. On my back the little thestral stirred, yawned, and went back to sleep. I would have to find some food for her for the trip, and there was just the place along the street. A brass plaque beside the door announced:

Gambol, Frisk and Millet

Purveyors of Griffin Foods and Supplements

The door bell tinkled overhead as I entered the small shop. It was dark inside, and smelled strongly of spices and other exotic tools of the griffin’s trade. Little was on display, but that was typical of the griffin traders I’d visited in my professional capacity over the years. These discreet shops were a fairly common feature in Equestrian society despite belonging to a carnivorous race. Their ‘foods’ were hunted, collected, and then shipped to wherever there was a market. Some had even branched out into selling foodstuffs for equines, but that been a short lived experience. Ponies have keen noses, and griffins had that reputation for being volatile too, which kept the more ‘sensitive’ amongst us away. I have to say though, some of the things on sale here smelled enticing. Very enticing indeed.

“Ah, a customer!” I looked up as the bead curtain clicked and clacked back and forth around the avian being approaching the counter. “A pony!” he announced in his heavy accent. “We don’t get many Equestrian visitors here.” The fellow wiped his claws on his apron and positioned himself behind the cash register as though protecting the thing from my prying eyes. “How may I help you, good sir?”

“I’d like to buy some meat, please.” I began fishing about for my wallet.

“You have, perhaps, griffin friends coming over for a meal?” The griffin reached under the counter as he spoke, adjusting the red fez on his head to avoid it falling off. “I have some excellent recipe cards that you may like to purchase. For a sensible price of course. A mere trifle.”

“No recipe’s today, thanks” I replied politely, “just a few pieces of meat that are suitable for a… um… a small foal.”

“Foal?” The griffin leaned towards me and then, just as I expected, his avian eyes moved upwards to the bundle of joy perched on my back. “This foal?”

I sighed, “Yes. This foal.”

“She is not a pony?”

“No, she’s not a pony.” I decided honesty was the best policy now that the cat, or rather the thestral, was out of the bag. “She’s a-”

“-Thestral. Yes.” The griffin nodded knowingly. “We had a thestral here recently to buy our wares.”

Glimmer. It had to be.

“Can you remember what she bought?” I asked. “I’m not an expert on thestrals I’m afraid.”

“Who is?” the shop keeper shrugged. His thick accent was a little hard to get past, particularly how he rolled his ‘r’s, but I could manage. Back in more ignorant times I’d always assumed it was the beak that made the half-eagle half-lion things pronounce their words oddly. After meeting Grimble however, my attitude, along with my understanding of this peculiar race, had changed completely. “I go look for something suitable,” the griffin continued. “Perhaps your foal can decide for herself, yes?” I wasn’t so sure, but it was worth a try. Duly the griffin produced a tray of different samples which Shade sniffed, eating some, leaving others. “Fascinating creatures are they not?” the shopkeeper said putting a package together for me. “We don’t see them much now, and many of my people believed them to be extinct in the living world.”

“The Wither World is their home,” I replied. I picked Shadow up and placed her, full tummy and all, back on the saddle where she curled up, mercifully without any shop destroying burps.

“A shame it was,” the griffin lamented with a sad smile. “The original people of the land, banished to a world of eternal darkness - punished by the gods for being true to their nature. In many ways they are our ancestors, doomed to watch the last of their kind fade and die until they are no more.”

I looked up at the fellow curiously. Guiltily I had to admit that even though I had spent time with them, and even taken Shadow as my mate, I knew next to nothing about their race. “You know a lot more about them than I do,” I admitted. “Are these legends, or based on historical fact?”

“A little of both,” the shopkeeper replied in his heavy drawl, “a little of both. Our races were closely intertwined during the age of the moon goddess, and our wise ones shared many stories with those of the thestral seers. They say the gods created the thestrals as the forerunners, the ‘elder race’ of Equestria. But their warlike nature and lust for battle greatly concerned the gods who desired to introduce more races for the earth, seas and sky. They did not want to see their creations destroyed, and so the god of all was urged by his wife the goddess to wipe the thestrals from the face of the land. The god of all loved his wife, but loved too the thestrals whom he had created with his own hooves from the clay of the earth and baked in the light of heaven and the fires of hell. He did not want to take away the precious spark of life that his children possessed, and so the god of all made a new home for his children where they could live their lives as they wished and cause no harm to those who came after.”

“The Wither World,” I breathed. “The gods created the Wither World for the thestrals.”

“A place no sane pony nor griffin would wish to go.” The shopkeeper took my payment and paused, cocking his head on one side. “Nothing for you today, sir?”

“Me?” I chuckled. “Ponies are herbivores, you know.”

The griffin’s eyes never left mine. “But not the grey ghosts,” he said politely. “Those of the tribe are some of my best customers. Sadly, they too dwindle, but there are still a few who enjoy my wares.”

“I think you may have me confused with somepony else,” I replied levelly. “I’m-”

Suddenly the griffin leaned forward, his sharply hooked beak dangerously close to my muzzle. “I know who you are… my lord.”

Time froze. My eyes locked with the wide glistening avian eyes of the shopkeeper as the blood in my veins chilled and the fur on my back bristled at the fellows words. He didn’t look like anypony, or griffin, that I knew, but then so many had died fighting for me since I had become the lord of the four winds, I could have been mistaken. The gravity of it all never left me, sitting there on the side lines, threatening to drag my heart down into the darkness of doubt and despair should I ever falter.

“Who are you?” I asked. “Tell me.”

The griffin laughed low in his throat. It was a sound that was half cackle and half avian squawk. It was certainly not the kind of sound to put a heart at ease. “I am Sea Scour,” he said proudly. “I am the father of Prides Pilot, a hippogryph who served you. As I myself served you.” He suddenly let out a booming laugh. “And now I serve you once more as my customer!”

Prides Pilot? I’m sure I would have remembered such an odd name, not to mention Sea Scour. I was lost, and the griffin knew it too. “I’m sorry, Sea Scour,” I said solemnly. “I didn’t spend as much time getting to know the people of the tribe as well as I should. There… just never seemed to be the time.”

“And neither was there!” The griffin reached over, and to my surprise clapped me on the shoulder. “My son and I fell in battle to the black ones fighting for what we believed, as true warriors should,” he explained animatedly. “We fought hard, and we fought well. I personally sent six of the black demons to the keeper’s pit while Pilot brought down five before we were hit from behind by their cursed magic. My son was slain at my side, and together we arrived in the griffin realm. Our ancestors paraded us through the village full of pride in the descendants and told great stories of the glory of our deeds.” He smiled, his eyes lighting up as he told his tale. “But the griffin realm is not for us. There is too much bickering for me, and the eyries are awash with tall tales from those who try to pretend they were warriors when they were really only farmers or nursemaids. We have proven ourselves and have nothing to prove to anyone any more. And so, we set up our little shop here, where we could work in peace.”

I was lost for words. This fellow, and his own son, had died fighting the changelings. Fighting for the tribe. Fighting for me. “It was during the fighting in the forest, wasn’t it,” I said woodenly. And then a memory came to me of a half eagle, half pony creature standing before me with a bloodied bandage around his foreleg. He’d been tired, worn out from his exertions in the forest, and yet still managed to report in to me about enemy numbers and location. If it hadn’t been for him, and others of the tribe like him, I don’t know if I ever would have got Lumin back. But the price... “Your son, did he have a scar on his left hind leg and bandages before he set out?”

“Ah, so you saw him then.” The griffin closed his eyes as a far away expression crossed his face. “I wasn’t sure, but he said that he had spoke to you.” He chuckled, “I should never have doubted him, but we griffins do so like our stories.”

“He was brave,” I said honestly. “Of that you can be certain.” I took a deep breath, trying to clear my mind of the memories that surged forth, memories I had all but forgotten since I had arrived in the herd. Even so it was still hard to think of such dark times now, and even harder to accept that there were lives lost helping me recover Lumin. At the time all I had been focussed on was my son. And in doing so, Sea Scour had lost his own. “I’m sorry,” I said hollowly. “I didn’t know he’d died. Nor you. For what it’s worth, thank you. If it wasn’t for you and your son...”

“Pah!” Sea Scour tossed his head and waved off my apology as though it were nothing more than a pesky fly buzzing around his wares. “You gave my son and I a chance to fight for our tribe. It was they who took me in as an orphan and where I met my wife. I lost her when Pilot was very young, but now, we are all one family again.” He leaned towards me, “You have many friends here, my lord. Many friends indeed.”

“I keep hearing that,” I growled rolling my eyes, “but I’m not exactly falling over them right now, am I?” Sea Scour’s expression was unreadable and I immediately regretted my outburst. I held up a hoof apologetically, “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound melancholy, but if I don’t know who they are then there’s not really much they can do to help me when I need them is there?”

“Or perhaps there is a reason why they do not reveal themselves to you?” The griffin began rummaging under the counter and re-emerged a few moments later with a cloth covered tray. “We do not always see the world as it truly is,” he said cryptically. “Only the gods know the truth of things, and they seldom intervene in the lives of their creations.” I had questions, so many questions, but right then my nose was twitching with the spicy aroma emanating from underneath the cloth. Sea Scour saw my expression which only made his customary grin even wider. “That which is hidden, that which is… ‘forbidden’, can often be what we have truly sought our whole lives.” He whisked the cloth away in a single practised fluid motion revealing rows of small cylindrical items that were wrapped in what looked like haybacon strips.

“What are those?” I breathed.

“Ah, why not try one and see?” The shopkeeper’s smile never left his face, but his eyes watched me with the keen interest of a predator. “Taste...”

The smell was alluring, simultaneously both spicy and deliciously exotic, and was drawing me in steadily, inch by fascinating inch. Carefully I floated one up in my magic and put it whole into my mouth. “Oh…!” I felt a rush of warmth as the taste of spices I had no words for and hitherto unknown seasonings, crispiness, and mouthwatering aromats, washed over my senses in an explosion of flavour that had me all but groaning in ecstasy.

“My wendigo friends ordered a batch, but I thought I would make some more in case my more… ‘discerning’ customers wished to try them for themselves.” Sea Scour nodded to himself, “Are they not delectable?”

“They are...” I muttered. I could still feel the tingle in my mouth long after I’d swallowed. I’d tasted something like this before, something from the… the banquet with the Yellow Sands? “Oh, no...” My heart sank as the realisation hit me. “They’re meat, aren’t they?”

Sea Scour nodded, “A blend of cragadile, quarray eel, edifice flower, and my own secret blend of herbs and spices. The whole is then wrapped in winter sweet honey glazed bacon which is just the right amount of crisp to give it a new taste and texture dimension.”

I was eating meat. I couldn’t believe it! It wasn’t the first time, sure, but… I wasn’t really a wendigo any more, was I. And yet the wendigo in the herd had bought from this fellow and they were alright, weren’t they? Oh goddesses, if Meadow found me eating this I’d be strung up! But… but it was so good! I could feel a warmth spreading through me, heating up my muscles with a tingling vibrancy I hadn’t felt in ages, and yet was something I would, and could never, forget.

“There’s spirit berries in this too. Am I right?”

“Now that would be telling!” Sea Scour laughed, “But since it’s you, my lord; yes, there are dried spirit berries in the mix of spices. Not much, but the wendigo like it so I include it just for them.”

“Just for them?” I asked.

“They’re poisonous to normal ponies,” Sea Scour said in a matter-of-fact manner. “You did not know this?”

“I knew they were dangerous in excess,” I replied, still revelling in the sensations fizzing through my body.

“As are most things,” Sea Scour admitted. “Would you like some for your journey?”

“I…” I closed my eyes, listening to that little voice inside me that was screaming ‘yes!’ and made my decision. “Yes. Please.”

“Very good, sir.” The griffin transferred a dozen into a package which would keep them safe for travelling in my panniers. “I am sure you are already aware, however it would be remiss of me not to remind you to keep these away from your thestral.” He smiled and chuckled quietly. “Who knows what she may turn into after midnight?”

“A bit late for that,” I replied with a smile. “She’s already trashed the house and scared a mare half to death after just looking at her.”

“Ah, ponies. Such a fragile race,” Sea Scour shrugged. “No offence.”

“It’s true for many I’m afraid,” I said honestly. “Comes of being descended from prey animals I suppose.”

Sea Scour lifted a claw, pointing at me. “But not you I suspect.” He nodded slowly. “No, not you.” Suddenly his eyes went wide, “Ah! I nearly forgot. Please, wait a moment. I have it here somewhere.”

The sharp clattering of pottery and the sound of heavy items being dragged over wooden floorboards emanated from the back of the shop as the griffin searched for whatever it was he was looking for. Meanwhile I took the opportunity to further inspect the interior of this peculiar place. Despite the dimly lit interior and heady smell in the air, the shop was, upon closer inspection, much like any other equestrian delicatessen I had been in over the years. Numerous shelves contained tins and jars whose contents I could only guess at, whilst the glass and wood counters that ran along two sides of the shop floor held trays of exotic looking pastries, cakes, and all manner of delicious looking treats. If you could ignore the fact that much of the food here was meat related, it was the decidedly ‘avian’ trinkets here and there that marked out the owners as griffins. Strings of beads and feathers, intertwined with curios crafted in gold and silver, hung in corners. Paintings of wide open vistas and birds in flight hung on three of the walls. But it was the writing that truly gave it away for me. The griffins had a very particular style of writing that was uniquely angular, with short sharp strokes which carried a sense of aggression about it that suited the hybrid race down to a tee. Come to think of it, how in Equestria did an eagle mate with a lion? Now a griffin and a pony I could understand, they were roughly similar in overall physical dimensions, but how did the griffin come to be in the first place? I was beginning to wonder if it was one of ‘those’ kinds of questions that were best left unasked, rather like the whole ‘cutie mark’ connundrum. I continued my slow walk around the shop, simply enjoying the calm and the fragrant air when the bead curtain rattled once more.

“Here. I knew I had it somewhere.” Sea Scour placed a cloth wrapped parcel on the counter top. “Come see, my lord.”

I walked over and peered at the red cloth wrapped object as the griffin slowly began to undo the string holding it in place. Gradually, piece by piece, the cloth fell away to reveal… a box. It didn’t look particularly exciting, just a small square wooden box around five inches square engraved with symbols that meant absolutely nothing to me. It was made of what looked like black hardwood, inlaid with gold or brass - I wasn’t sure which.

“What is it?” I asked politely. “A puzzle box?”

Sea Scour’s eye’s were wide, his gaze fixed upon the curious box. “It has been passed down in my family for generations.” The griffin’s heavily accented voice carried a gravity in those words. A gravity that I failed to understand, yet could still tell that this thing, whatever it was, meant a great deal to him. “I was told that one day the lord of the wendigo would come, dressed as a lowly traveller, and when he did we were to give him the box - in life or in death. My father passed this down to me before he died, and I kept it with me when I was adopted.” The griffin smiled sadly at the mention of his father. He closed his eyes and nodded to himself, “I was fortunate indeed to be able to have it smuggled into the afterlife, hoping that one day I would meet the lord of the wendigo and return the box.” He looked up. “And so, you are here.”

I didn’t like the sound of that at all! Somepony, or some thing, knew that one day I would be dressed as a traveller in the eternal herd and just stroll into this shop so I would be given this… this weird box? No. Oh, no, no, no! This didn’t bode well at all! If I had any sense I’d have left the damned thing there and put as much distance between it and me as I could. I would have liked to have said that the box radiated menace, or magic, or at least something ‘portentous’, but for all my probing with my own magic it felt about as interesting as what it looked like: a carved lump of wood. It was the sort of object d’art some old dear would have loved to have had on the end of her mantle piece or book shelf. Personally I hated clutter, and had more than enough tat already without adding to it. And then I wondered: why? I frowned at the thing, scratching my muzzle in puzzlement.

“Well, yes I’m here,” I said, staring at the thing, “but what is it? What does it do?”

There was a long pause before the griffin finally pulled his distant gaze from the box and looked deep into my eyes. His voice was low, serious, and sent a chill like ice down my spine. “I have not the faintest idea.”

I closed my eyes and stifled the groan that was currently trying desperately to escape my lips. “Didn’t anypony tell you what it was for, or what I was supposed to do with it?”

“I was told,” Sea Scour said, “that the lord of the wendigo would know what to do with it when the time was right.”

“Yeah...” I looked at the square thing and reached out, tentatively touching it with a hoof. “About that… It, um, doesn’t look like it does anything.”

Sure enough the box sat there, doing, unsurprisingly, absolutely nothing. It was simply an interestingly engraved cube. No hinges, no keyhole, just a solid square thing. I’d half expected my memories to react to seeing it and warn me or… something. Part of me wanted to leave the thing there and just forget about it, but how could I with the kind of back story Sea Scour had given me? His family had kept this for generations apparently, and I could hardly repay their dedication with scepticism and ingratitude. If I had the chance I could always find Maroc and ask him about it, or that blasted wizard I suppose. Not that I wanted to speak to either of the pretentious arseholes again, but at least it was an option.

“I wish I could be of more help,” Sea Scour said politely. “We were only ever told to pass it to the lord of the wendigo. And now, here you are.

“In which case, I thank you and your family, Sea Scour.” I took the box and dropped it into my pannier, making sure the thing was well away from the food in case there was something in the thing that could leach out. Who knew where it had been all these years? “Well, I suppose I had best be on my way now. Please give my regards to your family and I’ll make sure to call in again in the future to say hello.”

The griffin bobbed his head, “You would be most welcome, my lord. May the winds of the gods bear you to sunbathed lands.”

I smiled, reaching for the door, “Farewell my friend.”

Compared to the warm headiness of the interior, stepping outside the shop and into the open air was like being hit in the face with a bucket of ice water. I felt surprisingly good considering I’d had no sleep last night. In actual fact I felt delightfully refreshed, and I quickened my pace with a spring in my step. The birds sang in the trees and there was a light breeze carrying with it the gentle scent of flowers. I’d noticed earlier how it was quiet today for once, despite being just after midday. Haven was usually bustling with ponies and it was a pleasure to be able to move without having to dodge parcel carrying equines not looking where they were going or others standing about chattering about the weather - a fairly pointless exercise considering it was always the same!

I heard a dull chime. A quick check of the tall clock tower in the market place showed it to be bang on half past one. So long as I didn’t dally I would be able to reach the portal in good time and be on my way to take the little foal home. Come to think of it, it was just as well I hadn’t stopped to chat longer with the shopkeeper than I already had or I could have been in real trouble. And what a strange fellow he was! When I had time I would have to call back round and we could talk more about his time with the tribe before I arrived. I’d like to meet Prides Pilot too, and thank him for what he’d done to help save my son’s life. I think I’d quite enjoy wiling the day away with two former members of the tribe. And why not? The herd was full of old veterans talking about ‘the old days’, so I’d be certainly in good company. Speaking of good company, Shade was snoozing happily on my back which suited me just fine. The lower the profile she and I remained, the happier I would be. I moved quickly through the streets, stopping to buy a couple of juice bottles which came with free copy of the morning newspaper. It probably wasn’t a good idea to give the little one too much fluid at the moment considering what was going to happen when I eventually had to take her to the loo, but I could cross that bridge when I came to it. I suppose I could take her into the stallions bathroom, but I didn’t want her to be-

“Eep!”

I stopped and turned to look at the small creature on my back. Had I been thinking out loud again? Shade stared at me intently, her tiny red eyes burning brightly with her attempts to impress meaning upon the big dummy she was sitting atop. Unfortunately whatever message it was she was trying to convey, it simply wasn’t sinking in. That certainly didn’t stop her from trying though.

“EEE-eep! Ack!”

“Alright, calm down!” I said lifting a hoof to her and glancing around in case anypony was looking. “For the goddess’s sake, my ears…!”

“Eep!”

Suddenly Shade stood up and began dancing this way and that in her saddle basket, upsetting the blanket and revealing the anxious thestral beneath. Hurriedly I used my magic to flick the blanket back over her with the result that Shade now began squeaking and clicking all the more. What the hell was wrong with her? The last time I’d seen anypony do that funny little dance was… Sparrow. Oh no. Oh, what bloody great timing! I looked around in desperation. Nearby was the Grand Hackamore Hotel, known locally simply as The Hack. And where there was a hotel, there would be toilets.

“Hang on, Shade,” I said as we changed course. “Just… keep it in, okay?”

“Ack!”

I’m sure that meant something in their language, but I was far from being able to translate thestral to equestrian, let alone understand a child. Besides, the magical translation device Star Beard had given me was long gone. I hadn’t given it much thought though to be honest, many thestrals, the older ones in particularly, could usually speak equestrian - if you could call having words mentally battered into the centre of your brain ‘speaking’ that is. A couple of them had actually learned to speak normally though, albeit they were definitely in the minority. Personally I suspected telepathic communication had developed amongst their race because of their teeth. Talking with a mouthful of razor sharp pointy choppers was likely to end very badly for one’s tongue.

Pushing my way through the revolving door I quickly found the main desk. Fortunately the receptionist in the hotel was more than happy for me to take Shade into the bathroom, and didn’t question the blanket over her either. The last thing I needed was a cooing ‘oh isn’t she cute!’ followed by a scream and a flash of lightning. I just hoped Shade was fine with using a toilet seat.

And as I should have expected - she wasn’t.

Shade shrieked in alarm as I tried to position her on the seat, thrashing her legs around and catching me a right good kick to the chest making me gasp in pain. She had her eyes shut tight and was making matters a damned sight worse by shouting out in that weird clicking, hissing language of hers that was bound to bring everypony running, wondering what in the world was going on.

“Will you stop struggling, I’m trying to help!” I muttered, receiving another kick for my trouble. “Just relax and do your thing. Relax. Please! Ow!” A wing whacked me right in the eye and I nearly dropped her.

“Perhaps sir would find this of some use?”

I glanced down at the red foreleg, the oval disk held in the deep purple glow of magic, and up to the familiar face of… “Jelly Bean?”

“Good day to you, sir,” the red stallion replied with a polite bow. “It would appear we have been fated to meet once again.”

And with a thestral foal no less. I felt my heart sink and tried to brush it off as of no importance. “My niece,” I said calmly, “We were just on our way home to her mum when she needed the loo. Unfortunately thestral toilet training is not my thing, and she’s a bit big for a potty.”

“But not for this I’ll wager, sir.” Jelly Bean motioned to me to lift Shade up and he slipped the seat underneath her. “It’s padded. I keep them by the radiator pipes so they’re nice and warm for the little ones,” he explained. “The hide on thestrals, especially the young, can be quite sensitive to temperature variation. Also she would be quite likely to fall into the bowl which is probably why she was flapping her wings.”

“Don’t I know it!” I backed out of the way and let Jelly Bean take over. The fellow was quite obviously better at dealing with this sort of situation than me, and I used the opportunity to wet a towel to place over my sore eye. “Do you know much about them? Thestrals, I mean.”

“You could say that, sir.” Jelly Bean smiled at Shade who was now thankfully relaxed and doing what came naturally. Better still, it didn’t come with any ‘electrical’ accompaniment either. The barber chattered something which made Shade giggle.

“You can speak thestral?” I asked.

Jelly Bean smiled, “She cannot speak just yet, sir. She must be taught by her people, as all thestrals. At her age a little understanding and patience is all that is required.”

I felt a touch insulted by that remark, but held my peace. Jelly Bean clearly knew how to handle thestrals though, and watching him with Shade was nothing short of incredible. Like a well versed father, he soon had her up on a towel by the sink, washed and clean. She positively glowed and showed her own particular brand of appreciation by burping and nuzzling into the red stallion with a low purring chirrup.

“You need to wind her regularly, especially after food,” he cautioned. “If she fills up with too much gas her body will expel it in its own unique manner.” He raised an eyebrow, “You are aware of this, are you not, sir?”

“I… am. Yes.” I paused, my mind digesting what he’d said. “How did you know?”

“The smell of ozone around her,” Jelly Bean said in his matter-of-fact manner. “Thestral females emit a form of magical lightning. As they grow they learn to control it and will unleash it in battle or during courtship rituals. Males on the other hoof project flame rather than lightning. The emission of either is considered to be uncouth in company, although in combat are accepted as part of the thestrals natural defence.”

That much I knew from simply spending time with them, however I don’t recall Shadow ever unleashing lightning during our... ‘courtship’. Subconsciously I reached up and checked my mane was still intact. The main thing for me now though was getting this little package off to the thestral realm and a decent upbringing before I set about sorting my own problems out.

“A trim before you go, sir?”

“I wish.” I smiled at Shade, gently placing her back in her basket. “No, I have to catch the two o’clock portal to the thestral realm and get her back home.”

“Indeed.” The barber’s far away gaze caught me a little off guard. “Although, I would venture to say she appears to be at home with you. If I may be so bold to offer, sir.”

“I don’t know about that,” I replied. “She took to you straight away. Personally speaking I haven’t had much success with foals over the years.”

Jelly Bean nodded. “All it takes is patience,” he said. “Remaining calm, showing firm direction yet understanding and gentleness in the right proportion is something that only comes with time. Watch her, see how she reacts to you, and you will come to see for yourself.”

“If I ever have any more foals I think I’ll be stopping by for more trims,” I quipped. “You give some damned good advice, J.B.”

Jelly Bean laughed, “I’m glad you think so, sir. Now, pardon me for saying so, but sir will need to be on his way if he is to catch his appointment?”

“Oh, bugger!” I turned for the door, pausing to thank Jelly Bean. “Thanks J.B.”

“You’re most welcome, sir.” He bobbed his head respectfully, “Good luck on the path.”

“And you.” I hurried out, checking the time in the lobby as I passed through and picked up speed once through the main doors. I’d have to get a move on if I was to get there in time.

My hooves clattered over the cobbles, echoing hollowly off the buildings. The sun was high in the sky now and I could almost hear the minute hand of the clock in the market clunking ever nearer to two o’clock. Damn it all, why had I stopped to chat to the griffin? And why hadn’t I made sure Shade had gone to the toilet before we’d left home?! Meadow would have normally taken care of these sorts of things and it was only now that she wasn’t with me that I was beginning to realise just how much I relied on her for all the little things I took for granted. Damn it all, had I always been such a leech? I’d done my bit sure, like fixing the house, working at the watch, and… and… and she’d held down a full time job as well as cooked, cleaned, brought up our foal… all on her own. Dear goddesses, had I taken her for granted without even realising it?

The travel bureau office was just ahead of us and I barrelled through the front door, narrowly avoiding knocking a couple out of the way. I made a hurried apology and reached the desk just as the clock hit two.

“I have two tickets!” I gasped. “Two for the thestral realm. For two o’clock.”

The tan coloured clerk casually looked up at the clock and nodded. He looked like the kind of youth that had been compelled to work weekends by his parents and had about as much enthusiasm for the job as you might expect. He took the tickets, stamped them, and passed them back. He shrugged, “It’s your funeral, dude.”

“Yeah, thanks for the advice. I’ll take it under advisement, Dude.”

I slipped the tickets back into my pocket and looked about at the very empty looking room. Other than myself, the clerk and Shade, there was nopony else there. Maybe it was the off season for tourism? There were the usual travel posters everywhere of course, and stands containing small brochures on holiday destinations, weekend trips and the like. Unfortunately there was a distinct lack of signage telling you were you actually needed to-

“Door on your right,” the desk clerk said casually without even looking up from his magazine.

I didn’t bother to reply. It wouldn’t have made any difference anyway, the lad looked like he was suffering from permanent teenage angst - a time in my life I wanted to forget all about. Acne and greasy mane’s were something I hadn’t enjoyed, and this guy looked like he was permanently stuck there. I shuddered at the thought and opened the door to another corridor that was brightly lit with large square windows and more of the equally bright posters. I ignored it all, opening the door at the far end and entering into a room that looked remarkably like the portal room at the barracks. And like the portal room, there stood a large stone archway thrumming with magical energy. My horn itched like crazy, but it was well worth it just to be on my way at long last.

“Hello?” I looked about me for somepony to help. “Anypony here?”

“Ah! Just a second.” A lab coat wearing bespectacled black and white patched unicorn stallion appeared from underneath a desk like a jack-in-the-box. A large round yellow badge announced, ‘Hi! My name is Funnel Cake. Happy to help!’. Happy to help or not, he was still munching a half finished biscuit, the rest of which was stuck to his coat. “Sorry about that,” he said, wiping the crumbs off his muzzle with his sleeve, “just finishing off my lunch!”

“Two o’clock appointment,” I said, holding up the tickets. “Two for the thestral realm, please.”

“Ah, yes. We got your booking through just this morning.” The stallion took the tickets and nodded to himself before passing them back. “You have your travel insurance in place I presume?”

“I need travel insurance?!” I asked in surprise.

The stallion shrugged, “Well, you don’t ‘have’ to have it. But considering where you’re going we can’t be held liable for any injury, loss of limb, etcetera, etcetera, if you don’t have travel insurance.”

Loss of limb?! I cleared my throat. “And how exactly do I get travel insurance?” I asked.

“You have to get it from the booking office,” the stallion replied casually. He looked up at the clock. “Bit late now though, I s’pose.”

He was right there! Why hadn’t that bloody mare told me?! “Look, can we please just get this over with?” I asked him, a little exasperated by the whole experience. “I need to get this child home.”

“Sure!” the chirpy stallion said animatedly. “Just a case of entering the co-ordinates and it’s hey presto! Magic time!” He reared, holding his hooves out for dramatic effect.

I rolled my eyes as the stallion dashed about tapping crystals and turning dials on a large brass panel inlaid with a myriad of ambiguous controls. I had to give it to him though, he certainly knew his stuff alright. All it took was a few moments and the portal began to form into the familiar glossy silver of a fully formed gateway. It was strange how such an unusual situation can become mundane when you experience it often enough, and this time was no exception. I still hated the lurching sensation that came with the portal journey, but at least I felt I was getting somewhere now. I took a step forward but paused as the lab coat wearing fellow began to address me.

“Do you have a map?” The stallion was rummaging under the desk again. “I have a guide here if you can hang on a tick.”

It was probably a good idea. I had absolutely no idea where Glimmer lived and was hoping that somepony, or rather some thestral, would know where she lived. I guessed that as she was from the tribe of the Beyond, there’d be some link there for me to find, but who could say for sure? Fortunately the peculiar unicorn stallion found what he was looking for, blew off the dust and trotted over to me with it floating in the glow of his magic.

“Here you go, knew I had one somewhere!” He passed me the brochure which I promptly pocketed. “Not many go there, what with the thestrals being so aggressive and all,” the stallion smiled broadly. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“So do I,” I muttered. “Anyway, how do I come back?”

“Oh that’s easy,” the stallion replied happily. “Just give your tickets to the guards on the portal and they’ll get you home toot sweet.”

“Guards?” I lifted a hoof, stalling the response. “Tell you what, forget it. I like surprises.”

“I hope so!” The stallion waved a hoof at the portal, “All that remains is for me to wish you bon voyage!”

“Yeah...” I took a breath and stared into my reflection in the silver pool. “See you.”

Goddess buck me, I hate portal jumps! The sensation is somewhere between having your insides pulled out and shoved back in, and being kicked in the head by an ursan. Of course, some ponies weren’t bothered by it all, but Fairlight, poor old sod that he is, had the worst possible reaction. I suppose I’d become more adept at fighting the after effects to a degree and they did fade quite quickly now. Unfortunately the necessity of a bucket was still a possibility, but at least I was still on all fours as opposed to barfing up my breakfast. For some reason the portal in the barracks didn’t effect me as much, but this one… Luna’s ears…!

“Ack! Urp, ack!”

“Yup, looks like you’re home, love.” I gave the little one a quick fuss before popping her back in her basket. She was probably capable of walking at least some distance on her own, but since I didn’t have a clue where I was yet the last thing I wanted was her disappearing into a crowd never to be seen again. And speaking of crowds, there was a distinct lack of them here. In fact, there was a distinct lack of anything at all! I looked about at my surroundings. There was the portal, inactive now of course, a small building of typical equestrian architecture no doubt containing the controls for said portal, and an expanse of darkness. It was like the Wither World. Again.

Black sand stretched off into the distance: flat, undisturbed, and silent. The sky was a blueish purple so deep as to be almost as black as the land and offering barely any difference between the two. In the distance were hills and mountains sitting there like black silhouettes, with some forested in the white crystalline trees I recognised from my visit to the Beyond. Off to my left was a lake, possibly even a sea so far as I could tell. The ink black waves lapped at the edge of the shoreline as quietly as a breath upon your ear. There were no signs, no staff ‘Happy to help’, or anything even to tell you where you were. In fact the only signs of life were the two hulking lumps of meat that appeared out of the office building to stare at me like I was a two headed mule.

“You there!” one of them called to me, his black painted crystalline armour clattering as he walked. The crossbow strapped to his back along with a heavy battle axe marked him out to be a thestral without the need to point out the glowing red eyes and bony physical build. “Stop where you are.”

The other gorilla with him was a pony, a member of the royal guard too by looks of his uniform. Thank the gods I didn’t recognise him, and by the look of total disinterest on his face, he didn’t recognise me either.

“What is the purpose of your visit?” the thestral asked.

“Personal,” I replied. “I’ve come to see a family friend.”

The warrior’s words slammed into my brain in their customary fashion. “What is the name of this ‘friend’?”

“Glimmer, of the tribe of the Beyond,” I said confidently.

“Yeah...” The royal guardstallion scratched his chin in thought. “Dat’s da broad ‘oo came fru ‘ere few weeks back, innit?”

Ah, customer service at its finest!

“Humph!” The thestral snorted a whuff of smoke from his nostrils. “It is not safe here for the weak, Equestrian. Consider this your one and only warning. We will not come to your aid if you get yourself into trouble.”

“Perish the thought,” I replied sweetly. The thestral glared at me as I lifted my head and matched him gaze for gaze. “I’m not here for sight seeing, I’m here to see my family friend. I would be grateful if you could give me some directions. Do you happen to know where the thestrals from the tribe of the Beyond live?”

The warrior’s eyes flared menacingly, leading the royal guardstallion to quickly intervene. “Da Beyond lot live over de ‘ill past da big lake an’ da bridge o’bones.”

I took out my map and flicked it open.

“Yeah, dat’s it, dare.” The fellow pointed to several prominent features on the map, including the enigmatically named ‘Bridge of bones’, or ‘Bridge o’bones’ as he called it. Dear goddesses, where did they find this guy?! Hmm, come to think of it, I doubt they’d find ponies falling over themselves to work here, so this guy fit the bill. Barely.

“You’ll do for me squire,” I said with a broad smile. “Thanks for the help boys.”

The thestral huffed and turned away, dismissing me without another word. As for the royal guar,d he leaned towards me. “You be careful out dare, buddy. Not a place for us pones, get me?”

“Yeah, I get it,” I replied. “Thanks for the heads up.”

The stallion nodded to me and walked off after his colleague leaving me to do my best to follow the map’s directions. In truth I was surprised there were actually roads here at all, some of which, the main thoroughfares, were long white lines of stone that cut through the land like vivid scars. The Wither World had been all but devoid of them except in what passed for urban areas, although when you had wings I suppose they were pretty redundant for the most part. It was certainly a welcome change from the shades of black I commonly associated with that darkest of worlds, and I felt a lot more comfortable keeping to the hard surface rather than slogging through miles of featureless sand. Here and there clumps of the crystal trees added an alienesque illumination to the endless vista of emptiness, reminding me that life, however strange it may be, did exist here. In fact it was hard to remind myself that this wasn’t the Wither World at all, but rather the thestrals afterlife. This was, in essence, their own version of the eternal herd. I don’t even know what I had expected to be honest. It wasn’t the sort of thing I’d given much thought to, although Meadow and I had planned on visiting Glimmer at some point. Now that I looked at it and all the melodramatic warnings I’d received, I doubt that was ever going to happen now. Still, Glimmer managed to come and see us from time to time so things couldn’t be that bad here, right? Yeah, right! I was starting to regret only having a kitchen knife stashed in my pannier for protection.

Giving myself a shake, I received a chirrup from the saddle basket. Shade had woken up and was sat upright, staring out at the landscape around us. I half expected her to shriek and jump out, running around in exuberance at the prospect of this new home, but instead she kept remarkably silent. That alone sent a chill of doubt into my heart. I couldn’t communicate with her, and as a result I had just assumed she’d be overjoyed to be here. There was something horribly wrong with that line of thinking, but what else could I do? There was no choice for her, for either of us at this point. Thestrals needed thestrals and that was that. Simple. I closed my eyes, cleared my mind, and continued our journey.

I had been walking for about an hour by my reckoning when we finally stopped to take a break. The landscape had barely changed at all in the time we’d been travelling, and the moon hanging in the sky had been as unchanging as the rest of land ensuring that the only way to tell the time was by my pocket watch. I strongly suspected that it was permanent night here below the sigil of the goddess, which probably suited the nature of the thestrals perfectly. Regardless, the excitement and adventure of the last twenty four hours was beginning to catch up with me, not to mention the fact that I’d had no sleep at all the previous night. It wasn’t every day I had to contend with assassins, but it was highly unlikely whoever it was would be able to find me here, which was something of a relief. They probably didn’t have travel insurance either, I thought to myself sarcastically. I suppose there was always the chance that since Shade had frightened them off they could have given up, but I couldn’t take that risk, especially not with Meadow and Sparrow to consider. I yawned expansively; there was a clump of trees nearby which promised at least somewhere for Shade and I to lay our heads for half an hour. A short snooze would do me the world of good.

Taking off the saddle basket, cloak and panniers, was an absolute blessing. The weight off my back made me feel as light as a feather, and if there’d been any grass there I would have been inclined to have damned good roll too. Black sand wasn’t quite the same, but I could give it a try later. First things first though, it was time to get some food into both myself and the little one. I’d already hung up my gear on a convenient branch and I flipped open the retaining clasp to extract our lunch. The tree never even gave an inch. It was certainly a strange material, and difficult to appreciate that it was actually alive and growing just like a normal tree, only crystal. The bright surface caught the perpetual twilight of the world, reflecting every colour of the rainbow as you move around it. It was really quite beautiful in its own way, and it was pleasure to be able to look more closely at it now than I had in the Withers. And it wasn’t just trees either; there were bushes here, similar in general appearance to their larger neighbours. There was no smell of wood, no moisture, nor even the hint of earthiness that accompanied woodland as I knew it. Still, it served well enough as a place to relax, and I soon had a nice little picnic laid out for the two of us. Shade, not standing on ceremony, tucked right in with a loud chirrup of excitement. There was no magic, no hooves, no cutlery, only that long slim muzzle darting in and out, snatching up a lump of meat and gulping it down hurriedly. Perhaps I should have controlled the situation more and slowed her down, but the thought of getting between those flashing teeth and the thestral foal’s meal wasn’t worth thinking about; I valued my hide far more than that! Personally speaking, I was starving. I hadn’t had much to eat in days and that which I had eaten hadn’t always stayed down long enough to put much meat on the old bones. I decided to try the meat pastries that Sea Scour had sold me. Strange how you can feel guilty about such things, especially as there was only Shade and I there. Who was going to berate me? I took a breath, letting it out slowly and took a bite. The pastry crumbled in my mouth around the delicious morsel, melting into a blend of spicy flavours that had me groaning out loud. This was incredible! I closed my eyes, transported away on a sea of comestible pleasure the likes of which I hadn’t known in an age. Not that I’d ever admit that to Meadow of course. Warmth spread through me, relaxing out built up tension I hadn’t even realised had been there. And with that relaxation, the good food and drink, came a wave of drowsiness that picked me up as gently as a feather to take me away into the land of dreams.

I hadn’t been asleep long before a leathery something pushed into my muzzle. “Mmm… Shade… stop it,” I mumbled sleepily. I could hear a faint chirrup from the small creature and hoped, in vain it transpired, that she would just make herself comfortable and let me sleep. Instead, the push came harder this time, waking me up to a face full of teeth.

“Ack!”

Bloody kids! Irritably I clucked my tongue and tried to pull my senses together. I can’t have nodded off for more than a few minutes and I was being denied even that! Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, the slim black muzzle of Shade loomed in my vision, a pair of burning red eyes peering into mine. It was probably just as well I didn’t startle easily, at least not in these sorts of situations, or else living with Shadow would have had me a gibbering wreck by now. Mind you, Shadow didn’t tend to nudge me awake and shout ‘Ack!’ in my ear repeatedly.

“What?” I groused. “What is it, do you need to go to the...” It was just then that I heard it - a loud, hissing roar followed up with a loud scratching. I knew that sound, I’d heard it a lifetime ago in the warehouse beneath the statue. I recalled it all too well.

It was a manticore.

I reached back with my magic and felt for the kitchen knife, cursing silently under my breath for the stupidity of stopping for a nap in such an alien environment. An environment that I had already been warned about and hadn’t paid it any damned heed. Now that foolishness could cost me, and more importantly Shade, our lives. Thankfully the knife slipped free after snagging initially on something in my pannier. It was sharp and short, but lacked the heft needed to be able to damage a beast the size of this thing. And then there was the issue of my magic. I simply didn’t have the strength I once had, and using my forelegs and hooves had always been my go to choice for melee weapons. Something use for chopping carrots and onions wasn’t quite in the same category. I pulled Shade close. The beast was rubbing up against a convenient tree, its scorpion-like tail swaying this way and that, adding a pendulum motion to the manticore’s rubbing that made the whole damned copse vibrate. Manticores were used by a few ponies with more money than sense as guard animals back in Equestria. Dogs, it would seem, didn’t quite measure up to something that could potentially swallow you in a couple of gulps. No, having a monstrosity like this, armed with an array of teeth, claws, and a tail that would have been lethal enough on its own, was just the thing for keeping undesirables out of your valuables. How you managed to retrieve them yourself when you had one of these things wandering about rubbing itself on your hydrangeas was another matter.

The manticore continued to rub its ruddy coloured hide against the tree, purring like some monstrous house cat. I kept myself and Shade low, covered partly by the silvery bushes that I hoped and prayed would be enough to keep us from- oh, gods… The beast stopped and began to snuff the air. Each of those two great nostrils flared wide in the manticore’s muzzle, drawing in huge amounts of air as it tasted it. Checking. Locating. A deep rumble reverberated from the creature, its head turning, eyes narrowing, until with horrible certainty it looked our way. Golden eyes full of primal need and anger stared… but not at us... at my panniers. Oh hell, the meat! The damned thing could smell the meat inside! Well there was bugger all I could do about it now; we had to get out of there and pray the damned thing didn’t see us as a dessert course. Slowly, carefully, I lifted the now quiet and compliant Shade onto my back and slid backwards on my stomach away from the panniers. The hulking shape of the manticore was now only a few yards away, and drawing closer by the second. Damn it all, that interminable sniffing was all I could hear over the hammering of my heart. I’d only managed to take one of these things down last time because the bloody thing was on the other side of a door, and I also had something a little more potent than a glorified butter knife with me too.

Carefully, inch by inch, I moved back. With any luck the thing would eat the snacks, fill itself up, and simply fly away. Hopefully. I closed my eyes and winced as the thing reached up to pull the panniers from the branch. They caught, momentarily becoming snagged on part of the tree, but sheer raw power and determination won out and the fabric gave way with a soft tearing sound. For a moment my anger flared; they had been hoof made for me by Meadow. If they’d been a shop bought item I wouldn’t have been so bothered, but considering the situation there was bugger all I could do about it now. Damned thing, why didn’t it just hurry up and go? As if in answer, the manticore began clawing at the packaging and pulled several chunks of meat out as it began to feed. Piece after piece of Sea Scour’s carefully prepared goods disappeared into its cavernous maw. I tried to look away, but the sight of those enormous teeth was drawing my attention, and not in a good way either. Finally though, when I’d put enough distance between us and it, I turned, trying to increase the distance. Crawling on my stomach wasn’t easy, especially with a child on my back. The girth strap was dragging along the ground under me and catching on the undergrowth as I slid. Goddesses give me strength, this was torturous! I mentally willed Shade to keep quiet, and the little one, no doubt sensing the imminent danger, kept her head down and her mouth shut. I guess even thestrals knew when the odds were against them. I sure as hell did.

I looked around us at the terrain, such as it was. Off in the distance were more clumps of the crystalline trees, but between them were large open expanses of black sand. There was nowhere to take cover, and I knew with chilling certainty that any attempt to flee would more than likely end with Shade and I literally inside the belly of the beast. There were no wendigo powers to call on here, no crossbows, sword, axes, or the mist that could freeze enemies into blocks of ice. There was just me, a foal, and a decision to make. I could run while the thing was feeding, or hunker down and wait for it to finish eating, maybe even fall asleep, and then slip away. So far the latter seemed like the only option. I kept inching away, the sound of the manticore’s feeding still loud but mercifully farther away then-

Crack.

I felt my body freeze, my muscles locking up almost painfully. The girth strap, that damned thing beneath me that I hadn’t hung on the tree with the rest of my gear, had caught on something. I felt it too late. Far, far too late. I closed my eyes in the dread certainty of what was coming next. My heart sank as the inevitable blast of wind blew sand through the copse, showering Shade and I. A moment later the ground shook, and then with another blast of air and the sound of cracking branches, there was the expected heavy thump. I shook the sand from my eyes and opened them to a sight I hoped I would never see again. Golden eyes set in a face full of teeth and a distinct lack of anger management, glowered at me with animal curiosity. Far from filling itself up on the snacks, the beast had now set its sights on the two tasty four legged creatures before it now. A low rumble emanated from the manticore’s throat, its dragon-like wings flexing and settling by its side. But it was its tail that had me mesmerised. The thing swished from side to side, the stinger held high above an array of short black spikes. I knew about these beasts. Everypony knew. Few had ever had a chance to document them when they were alive. You didn’t get much of a chance if they were. Domesticated ones did exist, but they were such a danger to the owner only lunatics had them. Or those who had a death wish. Judging by the lion-esque maw dripping saliva, this one was far from being domesticated either. Somehow the knife held in the glow of my magic didn’t seem to make the grade…

I knew, deep down inside, that Fate had something up her sleeve for me right then. I could have written the bloody script myself. Everything, as always, happened in the blink of an eye. The manticore roared, showering us with reeking spittle and the half chewed remnants of what was supposed to have been our dinner. Now it was looking more likely that that was precisely what Shade and I were going to be. Huge clawed paws moved closer, the manticore’s lips peeling back to display the lethal battery of teeth. And then the crack of ear splitting black lightning happened. The manticore’s screaming roar was all that I needed to decide on my next course of action - to run. I’d always been warned about breaking into a full gallop without a warm up as it could cause cramps or even tear a muscle, but right then such concerns meant absolutely nothing. From a lying start I was at a full gallop across the sand in the blink of an eye, heading towards the nearest clump of trees. I could probably out run it, even with Shade clinging onto my back like some leathery barnacle, and once inside the treeline I’d be able to make some decent distance. Unfortunately for me however, the manticore had wings and used them remarkably well for such an unlikely monster. I didn’t turn to look, I didn’t hesitate, I just ran as fast as I could, my mane and tail streaming out behind me. Hooves don’t fail me now!

Something shot past my ear and thumped into the sand. Again, nearer this time. I managed to catch a glimpse of a black spike, slick and shiny as I raced by. Of course… It wasn’t enough that the damned things had teeth, claws, and a scorpion’s tail to kill you with. Oh, no. No, they had to have spines they could shoot at you too! Celestia bouncing buttocks, what the hell possessed the gods to put such monstrosities on the land? Or had they? Some stories suggested they’d been magically created by warring factions in the past as living weapons. If that was true, then only the sickest of minds would have been able to come up with a beast like this and then let the damnable creations loose. Fortunately for ponies they normally only lived up in the thickly forested highlands or around ancient ruins. I doubted it was because they were anti-social creatures. It was more likely that they could kill you in peace to chomp you down one bloodied chunk at a time.

I jinked to the left as another spike narrowly missed me, but moving left or right had the effect of slowing me down and that was something that I sure as hell didn’t want to be doing right now, and I think the manticore knew it too. They may look like slavering nightmares from the pits or Tartarus, but they were definitely intelligent; in a cunning and decidedly hungry way. I tried my best not to think of being of impaled, stung, or of rending teeth sinking into my flesh. There was simply no time, and only one course of action open to me anyway. Running full tilt the forest seemed to be running towards me and my legs dragging through treacle despite all my urging. My chest burned with my desperate need to increase my speed. I wasn’t just trying to save myself this time, I was trying to save the new life on my back too. Shade, just barely seconds into life and I had been expected to put her down as though she were an aberration with as much value as a bug to squashed by the proverbial newspaper. Now, in my attempts to bring her to her people, I had endangered her through my own idiocy. I hadn’t heeded the warnings, I hadn’t listened to those who quite clearly knew more about this land than I did. And now, it was all I could do to try to avoid watching Shade become lunch for this foul monster.

I broached the treeline. Branches lashed at my face, scything down my side, but I ignored it. I dodged first one tree, then another, heading as fast as I could into the heart of the crystalline wood. And then, as luck would have it… I fell. My hoof had caught a large exposed root. I’d tried to avoid it, I’d tried to jump, but even though it was a barely glancing blow it was just enough to tip me off balance and I felt myself nose diving into the unforgiving forest floor. Thank the gods I didn’t roll and land on Shade, but the situation was bad enough. Pain shot through my front leg, whether from a break or sprain I didn’t have time to check. The impact had snapped the girth strap too, tumbling Shade out like a basket of upset washing. She had rolled into a ball and probably due to her being so light, had taken a lot less impact damage than her erstwhile minder. She kept quiet and low, whereas I was covered in a showering of crystalline fragments as I slowly dragging myself to my hooves. I was winded, cut and bruised, but my adrenaline was mercifully blinding me to most of it. It had to; the manticore was stood not six feet away.

“You know, you’re really starting to piss me off,” I said breathily.

The manticore growled, shifting itself into a position to attack. I glanced around. The knife, my only slim chance of fighting back, had gone. All I was able to lay my hooves on now was a broken piece of crystalline branch lying on the ground nearby. My magic flared, encompassing the branch and bringing it to me. I didn’t stand a hope in hell. I knew that. But there was no chance of my giving up without a fight. I dropped into a fighting stance the way I had done a thousand times before, only this time my focus wasn’t of defending myself.

“Shade...” I said out loud, “Run. Run and don’t look back.”

I doubted she’d comprehend my words, but I hoped to the gods that she would understand the meaning held within them. She was small enough to be able to find a place to hide, to give her at least a chance at survival. Staying here with me, lightning or no lightning, would only lead to two deaths. Luna’s ears, what a way to go out. I shifted my stance, never taking my eyes off the manticore while the beast just stood there watching me as though it were the most natural thing in the world. What the hell was it waiting for? Whatever it was I had no intention of waiting for it to make the first move, and I edged forward.

“Come on, you mangy hearth rug, come and get some!” I saw its eyes flicker, its attention shifting from me to Shade who was scrambling away. “Don’t look at her, look at me!” I yelled. And swung.

The branch missed the manticore by a mile, but it had the desired effect of distracting it from the fleeing foal. And now it was locked onto me instead. With a roar the manticore’s paw lashed out with claws that could rip a pony open in one well aimed swipe. Quickly, I dodged to one side ignoring the flash of pain in my leg and my side. They were something I could deal with later. If there ever was a later, and right then it didn’t look very likely either. I thrust forward with the broken branch, hitting the manticore above the eye and eliciting a yelp of pain. I didn’t know if these things had weak spots or not, but if I could blind it, even temporarily, it would give me a chance to get the hell out of there. I withdrew a step, watching the beast advance as it manoeuvred its body to one side, tail whipping. I knew instinctively what was coming next. With a spin, the manticore flicked its tail at me with lethal precision. The branch barely blocked it in time, but it was the opening I needed. I made a feint attack, forcing the manticore to flinch, then stabbed the jagged end of the branch into its face. The beast’s screams echoed around the wood, bringing down loose branches, tinkling like icicles from high above. I backed away again, trying to put some form of cover between it and me, but the damn thing was as fast as Shade’s lightning. In a roaring furore, the manticore charged me, slamming me onto my back, biting, snapping, hissing in primal hatred at the creature that had wounded it. All that stood now between me and those teeth was the branch. My sides however were burning as if being branded and I knew with horrible certainty that if I couldn’t pull something out of the hat, these moments would be my last. The manticore knew it too. With a heave, it rammed its head into the branch, snapping it like so much dead wood. I swear I saw it grin too. But in that second, in that long moment, I saw something other than the manticore’s eyes glinting, and reached out with my magic to grab it like a drowning pony clinging to a liferaft.

“Screw you, you stinking rug!”

I couldn’t miss. The only mistake the manticore had made was pausing to play with its food, but today, Fairlight was well and truly off the menu. I don’t know whether the beast knew something was happening, but it opened its remaining eye and presented me with the ideal opportunity to ram the kitchen knife home. I yelled out in effort, shoving the blade in as hard and as deep as I could. Howls split the forest air. Screams of agony and raw hatred battered my ears as much as the raging creature that tried in vain to pull the knife free. For the manticore however, it was too late. For me, there was nothing more that I could do, other than to try to get out from under the flailing beast. Even in its death throws, the manticore was still quite capable of tearing me to pieces, and I pulled away with every last ounce of my strength. But nothing seemed to be working properly. My heart was hammering, my breath coming in deep, ragged gasps as I tried to drag myself free. The manticore struck out, again and again, landing blows upon me without end. I ignored them all. Everything I did now had one focus: escape. And then. with a final roar, the manticore reared up, howling at the sky. It was in that moment I was able to heave my hind legs free, losing much of my tail hair in the same instance... but I’d done it. I was free! Gods… I was free… I... My vision began to swim as I tried to stand, my foreleg adding its own staccato pitch to the symphony of pain hammering my senses. I couldn’t let it beat me. Not now. I had to get away and reach Shade, I had to make sure she was okay. Damn it all, my bloody eyes! Colours blended and parted, pooling into droplets of expanding shades of light. Everything I tried to focus on swam in nausea inducing formations. It was like being underwater, drowning in sensations that were so alien as to be terrifying. Shadows, figures, sounds - everything began to swirl around me, becoming distorted and indefinable. I’d heard about manticore venom back… sometime… I couldn’t remember. Damn it all, why couldn’t I remember?

Something pushed into me. Shade? It was a muzzle, black and leathery, but a lot bigger than I remembered. “Shade?”

Hissing, clicking and more of that damned weird noise…

“Lift your head.”

“My eyes...” I whispered. “I can’t see...”

“You have been poisoned by the manticore. Drink.”

The voice was clearly a thestral’s. Nopony else has that disturbing ability to materialise their words straight into the centre of your brain the way they do. Whoever this was though, male or female, friend or foe, was way beyond my ability to comprehend right at that moment as my body was far too busy screaming bloody murder. Damn it all, everything hurt like hell. At least the fever was diverting my attention from the pain, which was not exactly a glowing endorsement. Feeling sick and dry heaving, I felt my body being lifted and then little else. Tortured beyond endurance, I gradually drifted away into another world…