RoMS' Extravaganza

by RoMS

2015 project - Beneath an Endless Dusk - 1. Going Down

“I’ll always remember the first lesson I’d been taught when I entered Murmanesk’s kindergarten. It was fur-raising.

‘What is a shard?’ the teacher toned sternly, eyeing each one of us with his squinting glass eye.

It would have been hilarious if his missing forehoof didn’t give him the look of a hangpony.

‘What is a shard?’ he repeated, limping. ‘Do you know that we live on a shard? Murmanesk is a shard. Every piece of land you will ever tread upon is a shard.’

These words have been carved into my mind since this lecture.

‘More than a century ago, something terrible happened to that world and the old Pony Kingdom.' He had emphasized on that name with an unsettling irony, not so many ponies remembered it, and not so many ponies ever paid attention. ‘In Canterlot, there occurred a big flash, and Canterlot was no more. Today, nopony can disclose the truth. The witnesses are now long dead. But we do know that when the survivors woke up, they found themselves drifting on floating islands. That chunks of rocks were scattered somewhere in the emptiness of space with a motionless, wan sun gleaming weakly in the horizon for companion.’

His grin was terrifying. And knee-high I wasn’t ready to stare in his eye.

‘Yes, my little ponies, we’re now gently floating on a shard. Murmanesk’s shard, the fourth biggest in the world, seventy miles wide for a height of fifty. Murmanesk is the jewel of the East, the pride of the Federation. It is a gift the Direction, hoof in hoof with the Duma, is exploiting to fuel our country with goods and wealth. And this project needs workers,’ He paused at this exact moment. ‘You, for the greater good of us all.’

I don’t remember what he said afterward, but for sure I know now that it was nothing but a downward creepy propaganda. I was day-dreaming. Was I really listening to a teacher on a reversed mountain floating in a gigantic void with no landmark at all? The thought was terrifying for the foal I was.

I’m still frightened now.

I remember I asked him a simple question. ‘Are we in danger?’

The toothless smile he gave still shakes me.

‘Do you want to know what the greatest enemy of everypony is? It isn’t the Republic, our age-old enemy. It isn’t the Renegades. It isn’t the fact that shards can smash into each other with cataclysmic aftermaths. No. The most pernicious enemy of every kind is what we call the Magic Erosion.’

I hope I will never see this teacher ever again.

Candelabra”

---

Fire Damp opened his eyes and coughed, spitting phlegm. He tried to focus but his vision was blurred too much. He felt dizzy, his ears were ringing and his body was screaming in pain. Breathing in heavily, Fire winced. He had damaged something, maybe a rib. His lungs ached horribly, assaulted by thin particles of dust. He raised his head and looked around. The mist blinded him; even his hooves were hidden by the fog.

“Candel?” he called with a raspy voice.

He coughed again.

“Candel?!”

No response. He decided to move in spite of the burning sensation in his eyes. Fire’s hoof bumped into something hidden by the smoke. Tossing it forward, he heard it clink as it hit an obstacle. Fire lowered his head and tried to crawl under the cloud. He walked to the mysterious object, his chin ripping on the gravel carpeting the ground.

It was his goggles, more cracked than ever before.

After having them adjusted on his eyes, the colt scanned his direct surroundings. The northern wind had vanished. Now it would surely take hours to go around, searching for an escape. Looking in every direction, he saw nothing but a thick and dull wall of grey and brown blocking his vision. He felt terribly lost.

A sob echoed out.

Anxiousness numbed Fire’s mind like two talons closing on his heart. Somepony was sobbing nearby and, encircled by the mist, the colt could not tell the origin of the cries.

“Candel?”

Still no response. He dashed through the smoke, running. Fire had few hopes and his shaken psyche was not helping. He was more counting on being lucky enough to stumble over his friend. Finding somepony here was an impossible task to fulfil.

The sobs continued. Fire cried out her name again.

Somepony galloped in front of the unfortunate colt. Fire narrowed his eyes. A shadow emerged from the darkness and pushed him aside. The silhouette screamed and disappeared straight away behind him. Fire swallowed. He had not seen a glimpse of the pony’s face. He straightened his spirit. Who the pony was did not matter in the end. Only Candel mattered.

A grunt burst out close to the young colt, startling him. He tried to picture a shape through his dirty glasses and the mess around.

“Oh Candel, you scared me so much,” Fire hissed as specks slithered in his throat.

It was not Candel. It was not even a mare. It was, however, a pegasus.

The pegasus was lying in his own blood, his wings broken and stretched into revolting positions. His armour was horribly indented in, probably crushing his internal organs and cutting through his flesh. The pegasus panted atrociously, his smashed breastplate compressing his lungs into a deadly embrace. He was clearly a soldier. His armour was made of raw iron and like every military equipment in Murmanesk, it sported the symbol of the Direction. At the level of the pegasus’s cutie mark, the garment showed a washed-out blue bolt of lightning piercing through an obsidian black rock. The dismal darkness distorted the mark, giving it a spooky appearance.

The Pegasus shook convulsively, forcing Fire to leave. The colt was on the verge of throwing up.

The shockwave had tackled everypony to the ground, Fire thought. In Murmanesk, every guard was a pegasus. The ones flying at the moment of the impact should have been slammed down. Against the blast, they would have been nothing but pitiful ragdolls. Fire sniggered at his own condescendence. He hated the Direction’s thugs like everypony else; he did not have to feel pity for them.

Fire cursed the wind for leaving him stranded when he needed it the most. The atmosphere was heavy… heavy and surprisingly hot. The scared colt supposed that blazes had been lit in the heart of the city. The dryness must have drifted here.

Crooked shadows erupted from the mist around Fire. Chunks, scoriae and remains of the spoil tip were scattered haphazardly. Some uprooted trees were lying down like skeletal and distorted arms.

At a turn, Fire saw Candel. He let a sigh of relief. She was spread out on a broken rock, her eyes closed. She was motionless. Deeply concerned, Fire rushed to her side and lugged her on the ground. He shook her gently, hoping for a reaction.

“Candel, please. Wake up.”

Screams and barks echoed in the distance, distended in inaudible and grim sounds. Fire’s eyes wandered around, unable to catch a movement. Trembling, he focused on Candel, trying to check her state. She had several cuts and her nose was bleeding. Through the dust, Fire could not tell if she was breathing.

“Candel?”

His stare lay on her cutie mark. This same strange candle lit up with a blue flame he had seen earlier. Scrutinizing it, Fire wished he had his own light to illuminate his way. Guidance, he wanted somepony to guide him. But he was desperately alone.

Taking his courage in his hooves, he slid Candel onto his croup and pierced his way through the fog. Gallops, horseshoes clattering on the ground and cries zoomed everywhere around him. Yet, nothing but distant shadows was visible.

“Hide and seek,” Fire laughed, shyly and dazed. “I’m playing hide and seek.”

A howl burst out at Fire’s left side, sending him to his flank with fear. Candel’s limp body stumbled over his stifles and hit the ground, hard. A mare was standing next to Fire. He had not seen her before her scream. Her open-wide eyes were tear-ridden with bereavement. She had a bleeding foal in her arm. She called for help but only silence answered back. She did not even spot the stupefied colt lying next to her. The anonymous mother vanished in the dusty cloud.

Fire gulped the gag down his throat, adding a pull to the knot in his stomach. Putting Candel back on his shoulders, Fire resumed the walk. He decided to go to his house as fast as possible. His father knew Candel, he would be glad to help in spite of the abysmal poverty his family was in. He knew what to do.

The outskirts of Murmanesk were a no-pony’s-land. Fire pictured the city as a war zone. He had never been on a battlefield nor seen one before, but he was sure it was no different. Falling chunks had wiped off vast spaces of the city, leaving large and deep trenches in their tows. Houses were gutted and ripped open of their walls, furniture and, unfortunately in some case, ponies. Blazes consumed houses and were spreading to the neighbouring buildings. Queue of ponies carried buckets of water.

The ambient agitation was pregnant. A scramble of ponies was running aimlessly in the streets, fleeing from a threat long gone now. The falling shard had filled everypony’s mind with awe and wildness. Riots and pillages were going on and nopony tried to stop them effectively. Fire got hold of his own fears and walked pass the horrors creeping around in the boulevards. He lifted Candel all the way along and entered in a vast square.

Standing on an improvised stage, a group of four pegasi guards stared with shooting eyes at an angry crowd gathered around them.

“How did the Duma let this happen?” voices roared over the cacophony.

“Weren’t you supposed to protect us?” an old stallion raged.

“Where are the rescue squads?”

“Help us!” a filly instructed, bleeding.

The four pegasi wore the same armour. The same as the soldier Fire had witnessed dying earlier. This time, they were shiny and, of course, perfectly polished and shaped. The piercing bolt of lightning on the flanks was glowing. Only one pegasus was not following the trend. He was wearing a helmet showing two navy blue strips. A small herald was pinned to the feather of his left wing, a red spear. He was incontestably the leader.

“Fall back to your houses,” the sergeant barked at the crowd. “It’s an order of the Direction.”

The angry mob started shouting down at him.

“Go buck the Direction,” an anonymous voice yelled.

The sergeant repeated his order with the same previous unsuccessfulness.

“Don’t make me use the hard way,” he admonished the crowd, stern and resigned.

An anonymous earth pony threw a brick at him. In the half-dissipated smoke, the sergeant hardly saw it and the brick crashed on his face. The sergeant toddled, visibly stunned, and nearly fell of the promontory he was standing on. His soldiers froze. It took only a second for them to nod at each other with blunt eyes.

Fire felt a new fear birth in his chest; the situation was getting bad. He had to find a way out before it was too late. The pegasi reached for something tightly held under their wings. Casting a glance back at the soldier, Fire winced. He had to run away, now. The crowd kept shouting, surrounding the soldiers in a compact mass of angry ponies ready to swoop down on them. Shards of bottles, rocks and bricks flew in the air, aimed at them. Fire tried to push through the ponies that had gathered around him and Candel’s unconscious body.

Each of the soldiers drew out a long thin cylinder from his military saddlebag. A hidden mechanism clicked and strange instruments telescoped, reaching one and a half-lengths of a pony. The tips of the spears were sharp, glowing blue and purple as arcs of electricity sparked off their surface.

Once back on his hooves, the sergeant called a last time the mob to step back. Getting no answer but thrown objects, he gave a final order.

The pegasi raised the spears over their shoulders and held them firmly in their hooves. Thumps cracked in the air. Like arrows, the tips of the spears flew in the crowd, piercing the ground or the pony on their path. Shrieks echoed, and everypony froze. The sergeant jingled an eerie instrument similar to a lighter in his hoof. He slammed it to the ground. Three sparks of electricity pounced from the tool and rushed toward the tips stuck in the middle of the crowd. Some began running. It was already too late. Fire jumped in a narrow street neighbouring the square. The three sparks hit their destination.

The place brightened in a blue aura. Bolts of lightning burst out of the spear points and slashed through the ponies who had stood their ground in front of the soldiers. Three cyan explosions consumed everypony and filled the air with an atrocious odour of ozone. The explosions were deafening. The earth quaked as the shockwaves blasted everything away.

From his hidden position Fire glanced at the square. Burnt flesh of ponies had been strewed in a slaughterhouse-like spectacle.

The soldiers were unharmed. They enjoyed their time dealing a final blow to the fatally wounded ponies. Fire watched a guard slam his headless spear into the seared body of a stallion, ripping off the corpse from the tip he had shot seconds ago. Fire cringed and turned his gaze when the sergeant came close to the shaking body of a filly, withered in a foetal position. For the pegasi, age was irrelevant factor.

Fire swallowed. ‘The way of the Direction is always the hard way,’ he remembered his father telling him. He wanted to lay low and disappear in the shadows. Yet, he had committed himself to helping his friend. He had to.

“What are you doing here, young filly?”

Each of Fire’s muscles tensed. Hidden in the dark, he had not paid attention to Candel. Still unconscious, she was lying on the street at the mercy of anypony passing by. And in this particular case, it was a pegasus. He was one of the murderous soldiers. Tight under one of his wings, the spear was still giving fumes and sparks of electricity. Fire was completely immobile. He was terrified by the pegasus who was getting close. The soldier poked Candel with a hoof and swivelled her. He winced with disgust before his expression twisted.

“Hey guys, I got a Fallen right here,” he giggled with grin.

Hoofsteps approached and his stooges came into sight. Their horseshoes were splattered with an indescribable melange of brown, black and red. The first soldier pointed at the wingcuff. They laughed.

In a way, Fire was happy Candel was stunned. She would have burst into tears, succumbing to the pain and the raucous laughter she was subjected to. And the soldiers would have lynched her for that. One of the pegasi, a spiteful green coated stallion, kicked his hoof into Candel’s breast and sent her in a pile of rubbish.

“Always sort your trash can,” he sniggered.

The pegasi returned to the square, laughing. Several minutes were necessary to Fire to get rid of his stupor. He dashed toward Candel. She was bleeding and coughing.

“Candel, are you alright?”

“I-I’m fine,” she assented.

She mumbled and fainted again. Fire’s hooves trembled when he hauled her on his back for the third time. He chose to go straight to the North of Murmanesk. It was the colliers’ block, the nastiest and most dangerous part of the city. Unfortunately, Fire was stopped at the limit of the quarter. A cordon of soldiers was blocking the way. This show of force was unexpected and a mare walking around asked the guards.

“It’s for protection m’am, the area is closed due to the shard fallouts.”

Fire Damp sniggered silently, he knew better. The cordon was not here to block the way in, but to impede anypony entering the restricted area. The miners were known for their protestations. The pegasi called them revolts, uprisings.

For Fire, it was a rightful violence. For the pegasus, it was an opportunity to stretch their wings and test their spears. The crackdown the miners suffered every day was heart-breaking and the shardfall had probably triggered riots inside the block. Fire could not picture himself going through the security cordon. He had to find a passage over it, or underground. An idea popped in Fire’s mind.

The sewer of Murmanesk reeked death and putrefaction. Fire was walking with difficulty in malignant and stagnant water. He had vomited, multiple times. And now he was moving forward, passing under the cordon. He heard the muffled voices of pegasi. A scream rang out, reverberating in a grim echo throughout the tunnel. Still holding Candel on his shoulders, Fire encountered an intersection. He peered to the left. And Fire stopped abruptly.

A kind of woodpecker was riveted to a floating log of rotten wood. Fire narrowed his eyes. It was a bird made of steel, both of its eyes glowed purple. A tiny arc of electricity sparked on his wings and the creature opened his beak. Spooked, Fire held his breath. It was an automaton, a creation from some obscure engineers of the Direction that moved on its own. A bird made of steal and gears that could attack and serve an absent master was a disturbing idea. And now that he had the creature right in front of him, Fire was terrified.

“Intruders in the sewers”, it shrieked.

The voice was mechanic and atrociously loud. Covering his ears with his hooves, Fire lost his balance and stumbled into the stinking water. He gasped out of the revolting mix and pulled Candel out of it. Shouts came from over Fire’s head followed with hurried hoofsteps.

“Intruders in the sewers”, the bird-shaped machine cackled again.

Fire heard the grating of ponyholes. Thumps cracked in the sewer and spear tips raced in the air, instantly followed by the same blue sparks the sergeant’s lighter had created back in the square. Fire’s eyes widened. He ran as fast as he could. A burst lit up behind his back and Fire felt an unbearable warmth bite his hind legs. The brightness of electricity made his eyes scream as he was instantly surrounded by white blue arcs.

Fire dived into the disgusting and murky water, his hooves holding tightly onto Candel’s motionless body. He felt his body abused by convulsions as electricity penetrated his flesh through the water.For a second time this day, he felt the darkness numbed his mind.

Fire opened his eyes. He was floating in the sewer. Hopefully, he had not let Candel go. Trying to stand on his hooves, pain rushed to his brain and triggered flashes in his eyes. He winced and coughed. He had swallowed a mouthful of the rotten water. He threw up.

After a long minute, Fire hauled Candel on a footpath running along the muddy stream. There was no ponyholes over his head. In fact there was nothing but a large pipe where sprung a relatively clean stream of water. Fire wondered how long he had been knocked out. At least, he was thankful to be alive.

He washed Candel and himself in the waterfall and decided to go up the pipe. There were enough places to breath and it was the only solution at the moment for the stranded colt. Fire crawled on less than twenty yards, pulling Candel with him. His body screamed in pain as water poured over his cuts and bruises. Fire passed through a wall of water and gasped as a sensation of free-fall followed instantly, catching Fire off guard. His face knocked on concrete and stars danced around his head.

Fire sobered up and focused on this alien part of the sewers. He had fallen from a hole pierced in the pipe he had been crawling through. He laid his eyes on the vicinity. Everything was buried under a layer of mud. After the erection of the building, this part had probably been forgotten. Several air ducts ended there and from one of them came a distant whisper. Aroused with curiosity, Fire decided to creep down the pipe. But it was too small to go along with Candel.

With remorse, he chose to let her rest behind. Nopony would find her while he was gone, Fire convinced himself. Once he had stepped in, he promised himself he would come back quickly. He just had to check something. He climbed up after casting a last look at his friend.

“This is insane,” a voice cut. “How could this happen?”

Fire stopped. Over him, the pipe was provided with a round and ajar vent. The colt peered an eye in.

The chamber above him was shaped like an auditorium. It was equipped with at least three rows of seats half-circling a stage of marble where was standing a pegasus. His burgundy mane was agitating on his brown face, venting his anger at the assembly. Four dozen pegasus were gathered around him, all murmuring in fear.

Fire Damp could not believe it. He was right under the Duma, Murmanesk’s parliament. Every political decision concerning the city was made in absolute secrecy right here. The idea he should not be listening to this assembly struck Fire hard. Witnessing the setting of the parliament, he felt anger growing in his heart. The Duma was a spectacle of wonders. The chairs were sewed with gold and blanketed with crimson purple velvet. Each pegasus wore golden attires and had food and drinks at their side.

Fire’s eyes pained. He was not used to such demonstration of wealth. He lived in the colliers’ block, grim and poverty-stricken. Pegasi called his hometown the Lower City while their own part of Murmanesk was named narcissistically the Upper one. More than anger, Fire felt jealousy growing.

“I repeat. Who let this happen?” a voice hummed.

The gathering dampened and fearful eyes set upon the chairpony. A pegasus outside of Fire’s range of vision cleared his throat.

“Following the reports, the shard had a lighthouse built on it. Hoofston’s lighthouse.”

The chamber went silent. From his position, Fire caught the cloud passing on the chairpony’s face.

“Hoofston? Like in Hoofston’s Marche of the East,” he whined. “The outpost before the Eastern Hurricanes?”

Somepony nodded back to him. The assembly president sunk into his comfy chair. His eyes were lost in the emptiness in front of him.

“Magic Erosion?” he asked.

“We can’t know for sure. But we called an investigator. The Ditzy Mail Corporation was kind enough to give us a free ride. The capital will be alerted within a week. The investigator will arrive in a month,” the voice replied, hopeful.

“It’s too long,” somepony contested. “With earth pony riots in the Lower City and such chaos wreaked upon us, we can’t let this go so easily. With the Direction… We have to make sure the miners go back to work. We have deadlines to deal with, no matter how much it will cost us.”

“So, do you have any idea?” the chairpony sighed.

“The inspector Argen is currently on Cheeltenham’s shard. A fast pegasus could do a lightning trip, it would take five hours. And the same amount of time to reach us.”

“Five hours for a pegasus of course. You know he isn’t.”

“But it… he is our only solution right now.”

The president facehooved. He cared a little, showing his reluctance to hire the so-called Argen.

“Fine,” he answered. “Send a message to the Direction, that they summon him as fast as possible.”

“And what shall we do about the riots?” A female voice cut off every murmur.

“They are earthbound scum. The Direction will deal with them. I will mail the Department of Deportation in the capital. They always have some replacements to compensate the collateral causalities in cities like ours.”

Fire shovelled his anger away and retreated back to Candel. She was now awake and visibly shaken. She was licking her wounds in silence.

“Something wrong, Fire? There was a lot of noise from where you came.”

She trembled.

“It is absolutely nothing,” he hissed. “Follow me. My father will take care of us.”

“I’m tired of following you,” she complained.

Fire gave his friend a feigned chuckle. They slid out of the dusty chamber of concrete and ventured back to the colliers’ block.

Fire Damp’s residence was ridiculously small. To be accurate his flat was the last floor of a miner’s cottage. His family, his father, mother and two younger sisters were piled up in this place. For Candel they seemed to cope well with this plight.

“How are ye, Candelabra?” Fire’s father asked with a bright smile on his face.

His accent was strong, rolling his r’s and mispronouncing his h’s with a grave-pitched and raspy voice.

“Bad,” she growled.

“Ah know ye were in da pit during da night shift. 'Tis a joy to see ye made it out. Yer father is well too. He was in da entrance when ‘tings happened. Da heavy cart he was pulling saved his life in da end,” he laughed. “Do he know ye’re here?”

Candel shook her head to the utmost disappointment of her Fire’s father.

“Yer mather’d be dying searchin’ for ye. Ah know yer father’s barn door ain’t swinging with only kind emotions for ye, but think about yer mather.”

Candel nodded with watery eyes.

“I just… I just hate the pit,” she sobbed.

“Like ‘pony else. But we’re all stuck there. Ain’t gonna fight fate, are ye?”

If words could kill, Candel would have passed out. The bulky stallion drifted his eyes away from the poor filly and called his son. Fire was wrapped in bandages.

“Go see Candelabra’s mather, tell her Candel is here,” he ordered. “Don’t get yeself caught outside. Pegasi’s put the curfew on.”

Fire saluted with a smile and dashed out of the room.

Candel took a look outside. She was exhausted by the events of the past day. Or was it the past hour or the past week, she could not tell. She cursed the sun beaming low in the horizon, flooding the room with its dusk light. She was burning to yell her rage at that immobile sun. But instead, she cried. She would have liked somebody to hug her. Her stare slid on Fire’s father.

“Ah’m not yer mather or father,” he demurred. “Ah’m not da one who can help ye for that kind of matter. Ah’m sorry.”

Candel lowered her watery eyes.

“I’ll have to go back down there during the next shift,” she muttered. “I didn’t get the pay for the last one… because I ran away.”

“No pony got der pay t’day,” He countered, a pinch of anger twitching his lips. “Da Direction refused to let da money flow for half a day of work. Don’t worry ‘bout dis.”

‘Don’t worry’… Candel was sick of this sentence, nothing was alright in Murmanesk. Yet, Fire’s father had spared her the shameful ‘Everything will be fine’. She hated everypony saying that kind of hollow words. Somehow, she hated herself.

While she was unconscious, she had dreamed she wished upon a star for change. But when she woke up, dusk had been waiting for her. She had looked at the window and through the layer of coal dust she had seen nothing but the same fumes rising from the pit. She had lost herself staring at the town she had to call home. She felt heavy tears rolling on her cheeks. She'd had enough.

A dark red furred stallion entered the flat, Fire at his side. His brown eyes were marked with exhaustion and his grey mane was seared at some points. He was angry and strangely eased at the same time. He stood in front of Candel. She kept her eyes low. He slapped her.

“We were worried to death!” he shouted. “Can’t you imagine your mother? She pleaded the pegasi to let her go into the pit, looking for you. You… ungrateful daughter.”

“Stop, Rustic, she’s just a child,” called Fire’s father.

“Don’t you dare teach me how to educate my only child. My only child, you understand,” Rustic brought forth, pushing aside the tended hoof of the other stallion.

Rustic looked down at her daughter, still angry.

“Your mother was sick searching for you. And…” He paused. “You disappointed me.”

This fact dunked Candel’s head in her shoulders. She would have preferred him to beat her rather than saying this.

“I’m sorry, father, for being such a bother,” Candel apologized, sobbing.

“Don’t be sorry, fix what you’ve done. You’ll make excuses to your mother.”

Candel nodded.

“By the way, the Pit reopens in three round shifts. I expect you to be there with me,” Rustic grunted.

He stepped out of the flat and disappeared in the smoky streets of the block. He did not even wait for her daughter to follow. After a long moment she stood up, thanked Fire’s father for his hospitality and left the house in silent. Once she was gone, Fire slithered in the room. His father was muted, sadness cast on his face. He felt empathy for Candel.

“Dad, what’s a round shift?” Fire asked

His father snapped out of his day-dreaming.

“Ye see, since da night is gone one century ago, 'tis difficult to cope with time management. So, miners created da round shift. Twelve hours period to tell who’s gonna go down and work, and who’s gonna go up and bandage their wounds. Tis called a round shift because da hand of da clock does a turn.”

He shrugged.

“Yer friend Candelabra and her family are bound to da second round, da ‘night shift’ they call it. But Ah think ye already know dat, why yer askin’?”

“I don’t know. It’s just I’ve seen terrible things today, heard terrible things. And I found a way under the Duma. And… the pegasi, they don’t care about us in the end.”

His father’s ears twitched.

“Ye said ye found a way… under the Duma?” he asked, interested.

Fire affirmed.

“Tell me where,” he insisted.

“And for the pegasi?”

“Da pegasi don’t give a darn ‘bout us. We’re workload. Why do ye think they winded up our trade union? Now tell me, where is dat way under the Duma?”

Fire confessed, slightly afraid of his father’s grin.

“Father, I have another question.”

“Ya?”

“What is a ‘fallen’?”

His eyes widened.

“Ye don’t want to know,” he replied, sweeping off the subject.

Fire trotted back to his room and collapsed on his bed, the short journey had been too much for him. He kept repeating himself he was not meant for adventure. Behind his door, his father locked himself up in the living room, leaving his wife in an undisclosed stupor. She was not used to such tantrums. And, of course, she preferred not to interfere. She returned to her own room, two young fillies were waiting for her to feed them.

Two round shifts later, Fire Damp paid a visit to Candel. Like his own flat, his friend’s house was a dirty ponyhole. Three families had stacked up their scarce furniture inside and the overcrowded building was filled with the cries of a new-born foal one of the families had been greeted with a few days earlier. Candel and her parents lived on the left side of the first floor. Formed of two rooms and a kitchen, they had relatively a lot more space that he had. Candel was an only child after all.

She welcomed Fire with a hug, trying to hide her tiredness. She invited him to enter.

“Candel,” called a feminine voice from the kitchen. “Come here. I have something for you to do.”

She assented.

“Hi Miss,” greeted Fire.

Like her husband, Candel’s mother was an earth pony. Her beige fur was covered by her long and tousled brown mane. Her cutie mark was a spatula. She was one of the cooks of the pit.

“Candel, I need you to go get some goods at the market. The Direction gave me food stamps yesterday.” She tried to smile. “Well, since your father and you didn’t bring anything yesterday. You’re going to help me with the shopping.”

“Where is Dad?” Candel asked.

“Oh, I don’t know. He’s been distant recently.”

The conversation dragged out and Fire was glad to get away. Candel’s mother was truly a chatterbox when she wanted to be. The curfew had been cancelled a few hours ago and everypony was already minding their own problems in the town.

“The market? That’ll be awesome,” Fire enjoyed as he walked along with Candel down the street.

“I hate the market, I can’t go in the shops, can’t do nothing but go straight to the rationing building and go back,” she grumbled.

“Why?”

She shook her back, making the wingcuff tinkle.

“You know the rules of the market, no outcasts.”

The rest of the walk passed in silence.

The market was a vast oval space nearly five hundred yards wide. It was located at the East of Murmanesk, bordering the forest where ponies could amass logs to fuel their fires. Less than a thousand of ponies were doing business in dozens of scattered shops. Apart from the stores, goods were scarce and bargaining was flying around with agitation and cacophony. It was common to see two ponies fighting over the same piece of scrap, outbidding over and over again for the merchant’s greatest amusement.

Candel shrunk on her hooves. Ponies were looking at her. She was used to it, but they were so many of them.

The building allocated to rationing was a massive three story high construction. Its façade was greyish and the windows were darkened with muck. Fire and she were lucky, the queue was short and they had to wait only twenty minutes to pass the gates of the building. Its interior was relatively clean and a large desk was piled up with registration papers.

“Name, residence and amount of tickets,” a purple mare with white locks demanded robotically.

Candel and Fire stepped forward.

“Candelabra, Five hundred Saddle Road, North-East Block, first floor, first wing. And three tickets.”

“Fire Damp, Seven Harness Street, North-East Block, Third floor. Five tickets.”

The mare gathered their rationing tickets, avoiding touching Candelabra with her hoof. Then she gave them stamped papers and switched them to the next desk. Two pegasi was standing their ground, armed and protecting another administrator. Again, it was a mare. The guards smirked at the two children.

Fire and Candel presented themselves with trembling hooves. They hoofed their administration passes and after a long inspection, the mare clapped her hooves. A brawny mule opened a door behind the desk. He was rolling two casks on the floor, one larger than the other.

“Take your due and get out,” the administrator grunted, bored.

Her round shift was coming to an end and she was hurried to leave her spot to somepony else.

As they were ordered, Fire and Candel chose not to slack inside the building. They harnessed the small barrels onto their back and started walking back home. Fire let out a sigh of relief.

“At least the guards didn’t bully us this time, or try to steal our rations,” he affirmed. Candel nodded.

She was going to reply but gasps cut her off. She feared somepony had pointed a hoof at her, again. Yet, looking around, she saw stares riveted to the sky. She raised her head. During a second, she feared a new shard was coming over. A massive shadow passed over her in a wisp. Her jaw dropped. Fire giggled at her side, earning a weird look from Candel.

“Ain’t gonna lose that,” he chuckled, “Come with me!”

“I’m not sure that’s a good id…”

Fire tugged her with him, stopping her complaint. They ran behind the shadow in the sky, trying to cope with its speed. Ponies preferred hiding under their cart or locked themselves inside their houses. Thus, the way was cleared and the two young ponies raced to the North of the market. The shadow grew in size as its caster came closer to the ground.

They passed the border of the forum, breathing with difficulty, and penetrated the ‘harbour’. A pompous name given to the landing paths Murmanesk owned. It was a flat area covered with crackled asphalt. White strips were painted on it, delimiting specified areas. An earth pony was moving a red flag, announcing an expected arrival. Merchant pegasi had gathered around. Usually pulling their flying carts, landing or taking off in an endless round, they all had stopped. They were busy fixing the sky with stares. A large portion of the airport had been swept clear of any object or being.

He showed himself, piercing through the clouds.

A breeze of terror blended with amazement spread in the audience. The creature was a bird of prey, his charcoal feathers reverberating with dark blue reflections. His massive wings fluttered in the air with a loud whistle. His appearance was close to a crow, but his face denied any kinship with that species. The bird had a long yellow beak armed with sharp teeth and his two blue bulging eyes shot dagger-glares at the gathering. A shred of flesh was dangling under his chin devoid of feathers. His talons were knife-edged and shone in the dusk’s light.

Flapping his wings, he blew dust on the crowd, disheveling manes and pushing back Fire and Candel with the strength of the blow. The bird had a ventral satchel made of brown leather.

Finally, Candel understood why she was afraid. It was not his appearance who had disturbed her, but his size. Stack up three ponies, one on top of the others, and the bird would be still taller; align ten pegasi side by side and his wingspan would still be bigger. He was terrifyingly gigantic.

He landed uneasily, repelling everypony on a few yards. The creature bounced a few times before stabilizing himself. He toddled on the ground and stopped. After a short pause, he eyed everypony and gave a cynic laugh.

“Always the same effect,” he smirked with his grave and amused voice.

“Argen, you’re here at last,” greeted a voice.

Three pegasi pierced the mob, pushing everypony aside. Two were guards in armoured-plate. The third one was wearing a toga and a pin sporting a golden wing was sewed to his feathers. He was a noble from the Duma.

Fiery stares set upon the pegasus as he feigned not to see them. In return, both guards took care to beat any unwise behaviour out of the concerned ponies.

“You should have a good reason to disturb me in my retreat,” the monstrous bird replied.

“We need you,” the pegasi answered. “Something really bad happened and you were the nearest emissary authorized to investigate this kind of situation. But where are my manners, would you be so kind as to follow me to the Duma?”

“The shard?” the bird asked simply.

The pegasi acquiesced.

“Well, better now than later,” the bird guessed with a deep sigh. “And thanks for the invitation, but my answer is no, at least for the moment”

Argen ransacked his belly saddle, searching for something. Hidden under a trolley, Candel and Fire heard somepony snap. The massive creature drew out a young colt, nearly a foal. Holding him by the scruff of his neck, Argen then dropped him to the ground. He was younger than them and his orange fur was contrasting with his blue mane. His head was wrapped in a layer of white sheets of silk like a tightened turban. The foal stumbled, raising hilariousness in the crowd. Argen cleared his throat loudly, asking for silence. The crowd shut their mouths up. The noble pegasus arched a brow.

“My assistant,” the bird explained. He tilted his head toward the foal. “You, take notes of everything.”

Taking in his mouth a notebook and a pencil from the bird’s satchel, the foal smiled.

“Yes, master,” the foal replied, chewing on the pack of paper dampening his elocution.

“Is he your…” the pegasus tried.

He stopped. He knew he would not get any answer from the investigator. The so-called Argen inspected the crowd. Fire Damp gulped when Argen’s stare settled upon him, and Candel cringed when he looked at her. Worse of all, the bird kept staring at them longer than for everypony else. Then he backed away and asked the pegasi to show him the way. Nopony tried to slow down his progression.

Afterward, the atmosphere was eerily silent for the harbour. The walking bird three times the size of a pony had left his print on everypony’s mind.

“That was awesome,” Fire erupted quietly.

“Are you crazy,” Candel replied. “He can catch us in his claw and send us to the sky like nothing.”

“Maybe, but that was still awesome,” he continued. “I’ve never seen somepony like him before.”

“Because he’s the last of his kind,” an anonymous pegasus joined in. “He’s an old rag but he’s known for his work. He’s the best superintendent of the Federation. I wonder how the Duma will pay him.”

The pegasus hushed and got back to his cart, he had to sell his stock as quickly as possible.

“Well, see you later, I’m going to follow him,” Fire chuckled.

He had disappeared before Candel could respond. She sighed.

The night shift had finally come and Candel had rushed home with her family’s ration. His father was waiting with his usual hawk-eyes.

“Well, here we go. We’re in the boring team tonight,” he laughed at his own joke.

Candel gave a fake chuckle, lowering her stare. She followed silently her father to the pit. It was an open-cast mine descending into the bowels of the earth with a spiral footpath. Earth ponies were pulling up carts overwhelmed with coal and ores, sweat running off their faces. It was their last climb before returning home.

The pit was a Dantean play. Suffering, endless work and exhaust were the lot of the average pony here. The more Candel went down, the less she felt alive. For the filly, the pit was a widened maw waiting to suck the life of the ones who had willingly jumped in. Nopony here in the mine knew if he was going to survive his shift. Death was, in the end, a road companion here. Having it beckoning behind each trap scattered in the infernal place was unsurprising. It was a fact everypony had accepted for years.

As the new shift was starting, a mass of ponies were exchanging spaces. Following the movement, Pegasi were flying in the sky. Each one was keeping an eye on the earthbound ponies with spears in their hooves. At the bottom of the pit, tunnels had been carved and rail tracks were riveted to the ground. Candel felt muffled earthquakes reaching her hooves. The miners often used explosives to clear their way. Candle’s father pulled two small punched cards out of his saddlebag and hoofed them to the waiting tunnel supervisor.

“Rustic, I must warn you. You’re assigned to the north drilling. You’ll have to use arcs,” the foreman alerted. “I dunno if your girl should be there. And it's all about the Duma’s crazy project.”

Rustic grunted.

“We need that money. She comes. And I’ll show her what an arc is and how it works.”

The supervisor went silent and stepped away from the entrance with sorry eyes. He was a good lad, he never laughed at Candel nor say anything offensive about her wings. In fact, he was afraid of Rustic; Candel’s father was built like a house. And before its dissolution, the red furred stallion was one of the pit Union’s leaders. It was a miracle he had not been arrested yet. Walking in, Candel and her father stood in a metallic lift. Three ponies jumped in with them in the cage. The engine shook and they initiated the descent.

“Wear this,” Rustic ordered.

He gave Candel a hard hat showing a small recess on the front. Rustic grabbed a lighter positioned in a container screwed in the carriage. A spark of electricity lit up the archaic lift. When she reopened her eyes, Candel saw in distorted reflects on the metallic bars of the lift that a blue flame biased on her helmet.

“Keep it,” Rustic dictated, putting the lighter away in her saddle bag. “Maybe it has something to do with your cutie mark.”

He took a pause and breathed in, like what he was going to say pained him.

“I’m proud you got it.”

These words pushed Candel to the verge of crying. Her father was proud. She had made her father… proud. Somehow she felt happy.

Laughter rose from the other ponies, watching the scene.

“That’s so cute Rustic. You’ve gone soft,” one cajoled with a shrug. “You need a trip to the jail to harden you up.”

The earth pony eyed Candel greedily. In the darkness she could not devise his fur colour but his yellow eyes were frightening. The rest of the plunge passed in silent. When the lift opened, Rustic pushed gently Candel away in the tunnel and blocked the exit of the cage.

“You touch my girl, I break you, all of you. In half. And nopony will ever find your carcasses,” Rustic warned.

He waited for no answer and thrust his hoof in the nearest pony’s face, flinging him in the back of the lift. He glared with threatening eyes to the unconscious pony’s friends and swivelled. He caught Candel again.

“Thanks father,” she muttered.

“Don’t be thankful,” he drawled. “Mend your own mistakes.”

They headed to the bottom of the tunnel. Ponies were shouting over the sounds of picks digging into the walls. Two masons were reinforcing the sides of the way while half a dozen of ponies threw chunks of coal in a trolley. Some saluted Rustic as he took position next to a mare inspecting a map. The atmosphere was saturated with coal dust and the light coming from the hard hats flickered in this induced darkness. Everypony coughed intermittently, spitting black mucus from their aggravated lungs.

“Where are the arcs?” Rustic articulated.

The mare gave a tired glance at Candel’s father. She pointed a metal box in a corner. Rustic invited Candel to follow. He unlocked the case with his mouth. Candel’s eyes widened. It was filled with strange leaded cylinders. Absolutely smooth, they sported a thin opening protected by a piece of glass. Inside a glowing blue marble was wobbling from a tip to the other, again and again.

“That’s an arc,” Rustic explained. “They are explosives. The miners use them to pierce tunnels. But the magic inside can be applied to many use.”

“Like the spears?” Candel mumbled.

Rustic agreed silently, a sorry smile on his face.

“Don’t think about it, there are things worse than that in this world,” he drifted. “Well, the Direction has probed the soil here and there is a hollow cavity behind that wall. I’m here to dig it up. There is something more valuable than coal here.”

Candel watched her father prepare two arcs. When he stood up and led her girl to the wall, ponies moved aside. Two thin holes had been pierced in. He placed the devices carefully and drew out of his saddle bag two long rope of copper. He coiled them around the tip of the arks sprouting out of the rock. He backed away with Candel.

“Well, clear me the way,” he shouted at the miners. “Store the tools in the back of the tunnel and plug your ears. It’s gonna get messy.”

Ponies hurried around the wall, shifting everything away from it. While Rustic was helping moving the heavy cart, Candel spot a lantern in the corner of her eye. The lamp was filled with the same energy stored into the arc, shining with a white blue gleam. Taking the handle in her mouth, Candel lifted it up. Even light, the lantern was messing with her balance. She toddled.

“Hey, watch your step,” a pony barked raucously.

She raised her head and saw that true pony her father had whacked earlier. His upper lip had swollen and a bruise marked his eyes. The pony looked at Rustic who was busy focusing on pushing the trolley. With a grin, the resentful pony flattened Candel with a buck in her breast. She gasped for air, letting the lantern bounce on the ground. A clinking sound echoed. Everypony turned and stared. A sudden awed silence overwhelmed the usual noise filling the cave. None of them moved, waiting for the unavoidable.

The bully understood his mistake too late. He watched, powerless, as the lamp cracked on the ground and saw lightning bolts burst out. Searching for the nearest conductive matter, the sparks peaked on the unprotected copper wires lying on the ground.

Rustic jumped on Candel as the electric discharge raced to the two planted arcs. The tunnel was filled with blue explosions and the earth shook. The wall fractured and the shoring collapsed.

The air was filled with a smell of cooked flesh and the cries of wounded ponies. Her ears burning, Candel woke up. She had a hard time focusing on her closest surrounding. Her hard hat was lying feet from her, its small flame dying. Rustic had collapsed, protecting her with his hooves. His body was fuming. Shaken, Candel took a look around. Her head wobbled. The blast had scattered everything and everypony apart. Rustic had been right, it was messy. Her head trembled. She slid out of her slumped father and stood on her hooves, hesitant. She could not hear anything, even her respiration. Some ponies crept around her toward the lift.

Everything rolled out in slow motion with statics set upon her vision. Candel saw a bunch of ponies surrounding her. They were bloody, wounded or bruised for the luckiest. They beat her down and pushed her in the cavity the arcs had pierced. They were angry, but she could not hear them. She chuckled, it was better like this, she tried to convince herself. Somepony had cramped her wingcuff and lifted her in the air. One miner threw her in the cave everypony had been so eager to access. She hit the ground with a hard thump, but she could still not feel pain.

Candel glanced at her father. He had not moved.

The cave was a large cavern which walls had been carved by nature during eons. The wall were covered with gems. But this surprise was short-lived and they summed up their small vendetta.

Candel’s senses came back in a rush. A hoof struck her with violence and she crashed against a wall bedecked with blue gems.

“You stupid pegasus,” a reddish mare shrieked. “You always have to make everything worse.”

“Your father isn’t here to help you,” a stallion sniggered. “Who’s gonna protect you?”

“Wait, it wasn’t me, I…” Candel tried.

A kick closed her mouth.

She started crying and she tasted blood flowing between her teeth. Hooves stomped on her limbs, she felt torn apart. She felt bad, hurt, painful… ashamed. She wanted to fight back, to defend herself. But she could not, she was too weak.

Helpless and weak.

Alone.

A hoof slapped Candel’s face. She emerged from her half-unconsciousness. Grins welcomed her.

“You played with us for too long. It’s time to restore a bit of equilibrium.”

A pony opened her hind legs and try to force his way.

Candel bayed at the ceiling with pain, horrified. Her cutie mark beamed, the flame of the candle spreading a bright purple light on her sides. Her assaulters stopped and looked around, the gems blanketing the walls glowed blue. The assaulting ponies lost their composure.

Thousands of feet above them, screams clambered out of the tunnel and filled the air in an abysmal complaint. The ponies gathered around the entry shivered as an horrific feeling rushed their heart. The screams went louder.

---

“Tireless we dig deep within the cave

All alone we are carving our grave

We are the silent colliers under the mine

For us is there nothing left above to shine?

For the sins of others we must atone

Sent to work our hooves to the bone

Here in dull caverns by those who can freely fly

We have been condemned by those who deny

Here we cry and there we are meant to die

The simple freedom to look up in their eyes

Has been buried under unending lies

So now is the time that we go ‘n pry

We are the miners under the pit

And we will be the ones who will never fit

So let’s raise higher the pick and the axe

And struck them down right into the sombre cracks

Sing united a story that can’t be retold

As we send away the lies that’s been paroled

“Prideful workers go forth” is our cry of war

So let’s go foretell to the missing star

“Go son and tell once you escape from hell

That Earthbounds stand prepared to rebel”

And then assume these grim words

That we kept repeating to the lords

Shed upon us starvation

And of pride we will feed

Shed upon us humiliation

And of food we will live

But be aware

Yes sure be aware

Snatch from us those lawful rights

And waged upon you, will be revolution

With training we were forced to grew

And remember that our anger is true

So be aware

For sure go prepare

For the mighty charge of our kind

That you have mindlessly left to die

And left to us nothing but our cry

Under the open-pit, under the mine

We will a day arise

We will soon avenge

And make this epoch our shrine

Someday we will all look at the blue and beaming sky

But right now it’s for freedom that we will all die”

Written down on the fiftieth year after the cataclysm

Murmanesk’s shard

Last words of rebellious colliers