Rekindled Embers

by applezombi

Chapter 68

Chapter 68

Sermon given by Gordon Mountaincrest, recorded at the Old Canterlot Palace, 1113 AF. Recorded by Rogue Circumstance of the ISO, and broadcast via radio to every Imperial combat zone.

Knights and soldiers of the Empire,

You are about to charge into battle.

I see you all there, in your armor, with your weapons of death and destruction.

I know your cause is noble, and I know you believe you are heading into battle to defeat ignorance, hate, and tyranny.

But hate cannot be cut by a blade. It cannot be pierced by a bullet. And it cannot be crushed by a Knight’s hooves.

I’ve been asked by Princess Sunset Shimmer to tell you all about your real enemy. Not the Diarchy. Not their Knights, or their institutions. Not their ponies.

Your enemy is hate itself. Disharmony.

Listen to the wind. We can all hear its fury. Some of you can hear fell voices coming with it.

You are not insane. You are not sick.

The enemy is real, and those voices you hear are real. They are more real than the Knights whom you venture out to fight. And they are the true threat.

We possess the key to their defeat, though. We always have.

Hundreds of years ago, your ancestors, and the ancestors of the Saints themselves, faced this very same threat. And they called them Windigo.

The Windigo is hunger and hate. It is violence and emptiness. It craves cold nothingness; the last gasp of the dying, the splash of blood on snow, the stillness of frostbite. But it cannot create these things itself; it needs people.

That is why it mutters in your ears. That is why it spreads distrust, hatred, and the lust for violence.

Don’t give in!

But it is easier than you may think to fight back. Our ancestors, the ancient forbearers of the torch wielded by the Saints themselves, developed the simplest of methods to hold their cold foes at bay.

They embraced. Sang songs. Shared stories of friendship and love.

Does it sound too easy? Too childish? Perhaps. But these hateful creatures will not be defeated by anything less than Harmony itself. And what is Harmony at its core, besides the connections between all of us?

So revel in those connections. Speak about them. Sing about them. Sing together, in groups. If that’s not possible, sing by yourself, songs of home and family. Keep close to your heart memories of children, parents, siblings, spouses; all those connected to us by bonds, be they of blood or of choice.

And most of all, spread the word. The Diarchy does not know, and they do not understand. Some of you may suggest that allowing them to be consumed will be a victory for us. This is not so. Every pony taken, every life snuffed out by these creatures is an irretrievable loss. Every light put out just makes the world that much darker, and we need the fires of friendship and love, every fire, in order to push back the frozen void.

So when you can, use words, not spears. Invitations, not bullets. Because what could be a greater Harmony than former enemies coming together to defeat a greater foe?

My prayer is that in this dark time, we will be able to create something beautiful. Like those pioneering ponies of the first Hearth’s Warming, all those centuries ago, perhaps we can build a new light within this coldness, and new life from under the snow.

Go with the grace of the Saints and the wisdom of the Alicorns. And go in peace and Harmony.

May Harmony guide and protect us all.

New Canterlot City, 1113 AF

Time had stopped making sense.

That, and sensation. Color and smell, sound and taste, all blended together and bled into each other.

Emberglow tried to close her eyes, to shut it out. But how does one close their eyes against a smell?

Or clench their muzzle shut against a sound?

It was misery and insanity, like an artillery shell exploding, over and over, inside her head. It hurt.

And she was screaming.

Somewhere beyond the sound and fury she’d felt her friends’ hooves on her. Lofty and Topaz, Terminus and Heartwing. But then they were gone, spun off and set free, to who knew where.

She could not feel them any longer.

But she could still feel the tether. The spell she had cast had reached along it. Had pulled herself along.

A spell that had taken her…

…here.

It took a hundred years to pull herself into here, for the color and sound to fade.

Here was her room. In her house. Or more accurately, her parents’ house.

Her bedroom was familiar but not; it was her bed, and her bookshelf on the wall. It felt even tinier than it had before, with barely any room for her meager childhood belongings.

Those belongings were spread out all over the bed and the floor. The bedsheet had been torn up, and the mattress upended. Her books, pages torn and soiled with mud, were spread over what little floor space she had.

Emberglow’s head pounded as she tried to make sense of her surroundings and her situation. Swirls of color danced at the edges of her vision, and in her blind eye. And through it all, a single beacon of blue light blazed.

Blue.

It was blue.

Rarity.

“R-rarity?”

Her voice was raspy. Raw. As Emberglow struggled to pull herself up from the crooked mattress, her head spun.

There was no response to her orphaned call.

As she blinked wet eyes she tried to think.

Rarity.

Rarity was gone.

Rarity was taken.

She was…

Emberglow was in her home.

In the capital.

The others… the others were somewhere. She had no idea where.

Bubblegum…

Bubblegum was…

I am here.

Bubblegum’s voice.

“You’re dead,” Emberglow rasped.

The soft voice in her head didn’t respond.

But those words were like a rock, a cement foundation that she could stand on.

A cornerstone.

Something she could use to start making sense of the rest of the world.

Emberglow had been teleported to New Canterlot City.

No.

That was inaccurate. She hadn’t been teleported, she had teleported herself. With the help of runes that a dead mare had placed in her head.

It was a testament to the chaos of the last few hours that Emberglow didn’t have much space in her head to think about that. Teleportation via rune magic was supposed to be impossible. She had done the impossible. And she simply didn’t have the time to even think about it.

Speaking of time, she glanced out her window. The glass was still intact, something that surprised her given the state of her room. Whatever had ransacked the place hadn’t broken the window, which felt odd to her.

But outside there were few clues to let her know what time it was. The sky was shrouded in dark clouds, and snow came down in large, wet clumps. She could barely see across the street.

It was impossible to know how much time had passed.

Slowly, the urgency of Emberglow’s situation started to cut through her confusion.

She had teleported to the middle of an enemy city. Her friends had teleported with her, but they were not here. She had no idea where they could possibly be.

And then there was Rarity. Captured by Knights Mystic.

No good could come from that. But her own tracking spell was proof that Rarity was alive, for now.

Unless, of course, there was something wrong with her.

Emberglow tried not to think about that. Instead, she moved to the door. Habit and instinct drove her hooves, and she tried to close it as she stepped out onto the iron spiral staircase that led downstairs, to the kitchen.

There were books in the way. Emberglow looked down and saw her very first edition of Grey’s Pony Anatomy. The notes she’d written in the margins as a med student were visible, even among the dirty hoof-stains that trampled the pages.

The remnants of her old life, trod beneath the hooves of strangers. She felt an odd sort of sorrow, and had to remind herself that whatever had happened here, her parents were safe, back in Old Canterlot.

Well, as safe as anypony could be right now.

The sound of her hooves on the iron staircase echoed in the too-quiet building. This place had never been so quiet. During the day, there had always been the sounds of business; customers rooting around in the shop, the sewing machines in the back room running. In the evenings there would be the hush of her parents’ conversations, or even the running of the sink as her father washed the dishes after dinner. And even in the night-time, her mother’s gentle snores or her father’s occasional trips to the kitchen for a sleepless midnight snack would have filled the home.

The quiet was disorienting; Emberglow should have been able to tell what time it was from those sounds alone. It made her home seem foreign and alien.

The kitchen and living room were just as much of a mess as her bedroom had been. She wasn’t surprised that their house had been raided; after all, she’d been there when Heartwing had asked Bubblegum to come to extract her parents. A visit from a black bag squad had been inevitable. But still, seeing the reality of it, the chaos and destruction left behind when a dozen Mystics had barged in and torn up their sanctuary was jarring.

The lowest level, the shop itself, actually made Emberglow pause, her breath caught in a lump in her throat. Everything her parents had built up over the years, every hour and minute they’d sacrificed, just to give her a slim chance at a better life, had been torn, cut, trampled, and burned, scattered among broken displays and shattered windows. A cold wind blew from the street outside, dusting the interior, and the ruined merchandise, with a thin layer of bitter snow.

Her parents’ entire livelihood, cast aside like it didn’t matter any longer. It hurt to see, enough to make Emberglow sniff a little.

There was a part of her that wanted to see the bright side. To remind herself that her parents could start anew. That with the protection and encouragement of the Empire and the patronage of its Empress, her parents would never need to struggle or sacrifice again. But it still meant a loss; a change from what they were, what had made them the strong, kind, industrious ponies who raised her up into something new and unknown.

And of course, the last time they’d spoken had been in anger.

The guilt gnawed at her and she cringed.

worthless

oathbreaker friend-slayer saint-betrayer

no wonder they hate you

The voices, very real in her head, swirled around like the flurries of snow. Trying to listen to them was like trying to catch a breeze in her hooves. Trying to ignore them was like trying to ignore the cold seeping into her bones from the window.

Emberglow shook her head, pushing the thoughts away. She didn’t have time for this. But as she was about to step out of the shop, into the snow-blanketed Emerald Street, she hesitated.

In one of the broken window panes she caught a glimpse of her reflection. White armor. Yellow stripes on the forehoof.

Clear marks that she was an enemy here.

Emberglow peered more at the reflection. There was barely enough light to see, but flickering street lamps glowing through the haze of snow provided just enough. She was shaking.

Shock.

She was used to this; it wouldn’t be the first time she’d experienced shock. It did explain why she felt so… so disconnected. Numb.

She wasn’t panicking, she wasn’t frantic, she was just closed off. That wouldn’t do.

“Count to ten, Emberglow,” she said to herself, her voice echoing in the empty shop. It was a tried and true tactic for her, usually what she did in times of panic. Lots of doctors and medics used different tactics to get a hold of a messy situation mentally, in order to start thinking rationally.

It was prime time for some rational thought.

One. Two. Three. Her parents were safe, she didn’t need to worry about them.

Four. Five. Her friends were all competent and clever. Yes, they had been separated from her, but that didn’t mean they were in danger.

Six. Seven. There were things she could control, and things she could not.

Eight. Nine. Ten. Rarity.

She hurried back upstairs, her brain finally kick-starting into motion. She was stripping off her armor already by the time she reached her room.

Her drawers, lying on the floor, had already been rifled through, but she was able to root through to find a few intact pieces of clothing. New Canterlot City had fairly mild weather, so she had little more than an old raincoat that was a touch too small for her as cold weather gear. Still, it was possible to layer, so she did, putting on a pair of baggy sweats over her gambeson, and a looser blouse over the top. It was enough to cover herself.

Her gauntlet would be harder to hide, but she wasn’t about to go without that. She rushed to her parents’ room.

It was in the same state as her own, though it looked like somepony had taken a blade to her parents’ mattress. It was vicious; the eviscerated furniture had its entrails spilled about the entire room. Clearly somepony had been angry, probably at having been denied their prey.

But once again, Emberglow was able to find, in the closet, a pair of her father’s old saddlebags. There was even still an old army first aid kit inside. She shoved her gauntlet inside and put them on quickly, over her layered gear. Then she headed back downstairs.

It wouldn’t be comfortable, but it would be enough for the cold. Emberglow stepped through the broken window display and out into Emerald street, looking around.

The first thing she noticed was the sign. Snow was already accumulating on the surface of the splintered pallet wood, crudely nailed over the door. ‘Closed for Suspicion of Heresy’, it read.

It was like a crude insult to all the signs Emberglow’s parents had put up over the years, and she felt an irrational urge to tear it down. But that would look suspicious, and that wasn’t what she needed right now. She needed to get to Rarity, and the only way that was going to happen was if she didn’t draw attention to herself.

But she immediately saw the flaw in her plan. Emerald Street was a ghost town. Nopony was moving about in the falling snow. Sure, there were hoofprints that may have even been recent, but they were slowly being covered up in the descending blanket.

She glanced up. Her bad eye could still see the colors, though it hurt to look through. There was still the blazing beacon of blue, somewhere towards the center of town.

The Star Shine building, she was certain. Where else would she be taken? She was sure Steadfast would be there.

She started out into the snow, heading north.

“I’m coming, Rarity.”

Oak Chips’ shop was first, on the right. It was still abandoned and boarded over. Perhaps it was like bad luck; nopony wanted to take up shop in a building that had housed a suspected heretic. She wondered how long her parents’ shop would lay empty.

The other shops were just as dark, though most of them were still intact. A few had broken windows, but had been covered by sheets of plywood or other makeshift materials. As she moved up the streets, Emberglow could see signs of destruction and violence slowly being swallowed by the tide of winter; debris and such from shops that had been broken into. She wondered where their owners were, but when she looked upwards, to the second and third floors of some of those shops, there were hints of life. On one side of the street she saw a fluttering curtain, another a flickering candle flame.

From one she even saw the hint of the barrel of a rifle, tracking her as she moved. She made sure to hurry away from the building as soon as she saw that.

“Emberglow?”

The sound broke through the deafening silence of the snow-covered street. Emberglow glanced up; it was Lavish Essence’s perfume shop.

The mare herself was poking her head out of a second-story window. She, too, had a rifle in her hooves, though she wasn’t pointing it at her.

“Emberglow, is that you? Get off the street, mare, are you stupid? Come on, I’ll let you in.”

Emberglow didn’t have a reason to say no. She wanted to move on; the blue beacon making her head ache and her heart sick with worry gnawed at her. But she also needed to know what was happening in the city. So she trotted over to the door, waiting until she heard the mechanical clicks and clanks of a deadbolt and a door chain being disengaged.

“Get in, quick!” The door opened for only a second, and Lavish reached out to yank her inside. “Damn fool mare, you’re going to freeze or get strung up for looting!”

“But I’m not looting,” she noted, a little dumbly.

Inside the shop was a haunting reflection of what Emberglow remembered from her last visit inside as a teenager. The shelves and display cases, usually full of exotic-looking bottles and brightly-wrapped cosmetics, were mostly empty. A few were broken. The scent of it all lingered in the air, but as a memory, not like a current reality.

“Do you think any of the brutes out there care about that?” Lavish said, re-engaging the door lock, the deadbolt, and the chain. “It’s Tartarus out there, and the only sane ponies are either hiding or fleeing. Why are you back here? I thought you were one of those Radiants. They’re all supposed to be holed up in that hospital of theirs.”

“Yes, of course. Not everypony is with them, though.” The deceit burned in her throat. “Um.”

“You never could lie, young lady,” Lavish said harshly, eyeing her suspiciously as her grip tightened on her rifle. It was jarring seeing her act this way; Lavish Essence had always been a gossip, true, but she’d always been open, engaging, and cheerful.

The two stared at each other in silence for a few seconds.

“Your parents got black-bagged,” Lavish said, her voice hard. “Just a little bit ago. After the announcement that was broadcast from the mountain.”

The rifle barrel started to rise.

“Why are you here?”

The implicit violence in her voice was chilling.

“I’m looking for a friend,” Emberglow said. “Her life is in danger.”

“Everypony’s life is in danger,” Lavish hissed. “What in the name of the Saints prompted you to come back here? You’re one of them, aren’t you? I should shoot you right now, I’m sure there’s some kind of reward.”

The temperature in the dark shop seemed to drop several degrees. Emberglow’s mind raced. But what came out of her mouth wasn’t an impassioned plea, or a threat, or a well-reasoned argument.

“Have you ever killed anypony, Miss Lavish?” she asked. “Have you ever pulled the trigger on that gun? Or felt your spear slip into pony flesh?”

She took a step forward, and Lavish stepped back, eyes wide. Emberglow ignored the barrel of the rifle now pointed right at her. There was something here that needed fixing, she knew instinctively. A gap she could bridge.

“Have you held somepony in your hooves as the light left their eyes? With their last words, begging for their mother? I have. And I don’t think you’re the kind of pony that can do something like that, Lavish. I don’t think you’d walk away from that unscathed. I think it would break you.”

The barrel of the rifle trembled. Lavish’s eyes were so wide they reflected light from the lonely street lamps outside.

“I don’t want you to make a choice that will haunt you for the rest of your life, Lavish. Because I remember a mare that would never do something violent. I remember an eager smile, a cheerful bounce in your gait, and a readiness to share in victories and commiserate in sorrow. You were the heart of this street, Lavish. And the mare I remember? She can survive all this misery.”

“How?” Lavish rasped.

“Don’t give in to violence or fear. Don’t let this change who you are. Please.”

Lavish looked frozen. Emberglow reached out and gently pushed the barrel of the rifle, until it was no longer pointed at her, but at the ground. Lavish was shaking.

“How?” she repeated.

“Try to connect with your neighbors. Saints, Lavish, we were a community. Even though I was away a lot, at school or seminary, I always remember getting together outside your shop, listening to you and my mom talk about your foals. Or watching Oak roll his eyes at your latest attempt to set him up with a cousin or an aunt or an acquaintance. I remember when the Pepper brothers used to host monthly potlucks in the empty lot next to their house. Or when we all chipped in with work or bits after Jasmine’s roof collapsed. We were a community,” she repeated. “And it should take more than a little snowstorm to break us down and tear us apart, right?”

“What does that have to do with…”

“The real enemy here,” Emberglow interrupted, trying to remember everything she’d heard about the voices. The Windigoes. “…is disharmony between ponies. I’m serious, Miss Lavish. The more we fear, the more we hate, the stronger this winter will get. I know it sounds silly, but that’s what’s happening. The only way to beat it is by reaching out.”

“Is that…why you came here?” The rifle now hung limply in her hooves. Emberglow’s heart rate was starting to go back down to normal.

“In a way,” Emberglow said, not wanting to lie. “There’s more going on here than just that. But that’s one of the reasons, yes. This winter hurts everypony, and we intend to stop it if we can.”

“Who is we?” Lavish asked, a little suspiciously. “Your parents…”

“Are not heretics,” Emberglow interrupted. “They were innocent. They thought I was dead. My choices are not theirs. But that doesn’t matter to the Mystics sometimes. You know that, right? The way the entire street went quiet when Oak was taken? Guilt by association is very real to them.”

“I don’t want to hear this,” Lavish breathed, terrified. She glanced between Emberglow and her rifle a few times, eyes darting like a panicked rodent watching for the hawk. “You have to go.”

“I’ll go,” Emberglow said sadly. “I was hoping to find out more about what it’s like in the city right now. To know what to expect. I have friends out there, Lavish.”

Something in her pleading softened the terror in Lavish’s eyes. The older mare gulped and nodded.

“Everything I know is second-hoof,” she warned. Emberglow barely stopped herself from smiling; it was a usual caveat that preceded a Lavish Essence gossip session. “My sons stopped by on their way out of town, trying to get me to come with them.” She snorted. “Not like I’d leave my shop. It’d be stripped to the nails in an hour. But they told me that it’s the Vigilants you have to avoid, not the Mystics.”

“The Vigilants?” Emberglow asked dumbly.

“That’s what I said,” she said impatiently. “According to Stone Ground, they’ve lost their minds. Most of ‘em are centered around that big Radiant hospital, but there’s squads of ‘em moving about the streets looking for looters and…”

She paused and eyed Emberglow.

“…and heretics. Discordant.”

The name was spoken at a whisper.

“They’re executing ponies, Emberglow. Stone says he saw hanging bodies.”

“What are the Mystics and Adamants doing? And the Jubilant?” Emberglow asked.

Lavish shrugged. “I’ve heard nothing of the Jubilant. But the Mystics and Adamants are trying to fix things, though Stone says he hasn’t seen very many of the inquisitors about. Mostly just the Blues, and it’s a Saints-blessed thing, too. They’ve got marines and mercenaries trying to keep order because the Vigilants won’t. Stone and Glass were trying to avoid ‘em, though, because they’re escorting folks to either the Adamant’s fortress or the Mystic’s building for safety.”

“Why not just tell them to stay in their homes?”

“Homes aren’t safe,” Lavish said with a shudder. “Not unless we can make ‘em safe.”

Emberglow was quiet for a bit, and Lavish started to glance at the door, expectantly. Finally Emberglow nodded.

“Okay. Thank you, Miss Lavish. This will help me find my friend.” She paused again. “I meant what I said about banding together. We were a community here.”

“It’s really that simple?” Lavish said, with a twist of her muzzle as she stepped towards the door.

“No,” Emberglow said honestly. “But it’ll help.”

She reached for the door handle, and stepped out into the snow once again.

* * * * *

Lavish’s information had helped. If the Adamants were herding refugees towards the Star Shine building, then at least she had a reason, or an excuse, to head in that direction.

The Mystics had taken Rarity, and it was the most likely place to start her search.

It was a sense of determination that pushed her through the snowy street. The wet and the cold bogged her hooves down, seeping into her clothing and creeping up her legs. It was insidious, and her limbs were numb before she realized just how cold she was. Hypothermia would be a concern, if she had to be out here much longer.

More than once she thought of flying. But the city’s buildings were blocking the intense blow of the wind. Up above she could see the snow flying sideways. Between that and the limited visibility, trying her wings would probably be counterproductive at best.

As she pressed forward through the deepening snow, she whispered a silent mantra. In days past it may have been a prayer to the Saints. Perhaps it still was a prayer, in her own way.

“Heartwing will be safe. He’s clever and resourceful, and he doesn’t think about things the same way everypony else does. He’s unpredictable. Terminus will be safe. He’s fast and he’s smart, and he’s got a good head for assessing a situation. Lofty will be safe. He’s always been the most skilled and strongest of my friends, even in Seminary. And he knows this city well. Topaz will be safe. She’s got a sharp mind, and she understands how ponies think. And she’ll keep hope alive in her heart and a smile on her face no matter what.”

It wasn’t the same words every time, but Emberglow kept reassuring herself over and over. Her friends were safe, her friends were alive, her friends were trying to find her and help her.

It was an uncomfortable endeavor; on the one hoof, she knew she didn’t have the evidence to back up her surety. On the other hoof, the conviction in her words made the chill seem less deadly.

As she moved through New Canterlot’s Merchant District, Emberglow couldn’t help but feel like an alien presence in her own hometown. She’d lived in the capital since she’d gotten her cutie mark, but this place was not the place she’d grown up in. It was too quiet, too cold, too monochrome. Only every so often she would see furtive signs of life.

There was evidence, too, of what Lavish had told her about the Vigilants. Here or there she found the marks of violence; a spot of pink snow where blood had been shed, or bullet holes in walls. In the distance, in the direction of Diamond Home, she could occasionally hear the sounds of firearms, though it was sporadic.

She was nearly out of the District when she saw the first of the bodies.

Emberglow was no stranger to violence or corpses. From the pirate hunting ship, to Manehatten, from Jubilation to Old Canterlot, she’d seen plenty of death. But something about seeing a pair of ponies leaning against a wall, with blood sprayed out on the bricks behind them, filled her with disgust. This was New Canterlot. There wasn’t supposed to be this level of violence here.

She couldn’t make out too many details, but someone had written ‘die looters’ on the wall behind them. She passed quickly before she could get too close a glimpse of the victims’ faces. It helped that the snow was already mostly covering them.

Those bodies weren’t the last. Street after street, the closer she drew to the center of town the more remnants of violence Emberglow saw. A corpse hanged from a lamppost. An entire city block burned to soggy ashes. Hateful graffiti everywhere, accusing of petty crimes and heresies alike.

But now she was seeing the living, too; here or there signs of life. Ponies darting around corners, ponies rushing to hide from her view. She even saw a pair of mares darting out of an empty shop, carrying large sacks over their shoulders. They made eye contact with Emberglow, staring at her defiantly before dashing away.

“You there! Freeze!”

The call came just after the two looters disappeared.

“Yes, you, mare.”

Emberglow turned to look.

“I said freeze!”

The voice was young and male. Through the snow, Emberglow saw a stallion, in a uniform she did not recognize. It was military, for sure, but instead of blue and gold it was a darker crimson, nearly black in the storm. He carried a bayoneted rifle, aimed right at her. A mercenary, she guessed.

“Sir! I found a looter!”

More ponies came around the corner; a tall stallion in a similar red uniform, and an earth pony mare. The stallion looked hard, with wiry muscles and facial scarring, probably from a blade of some kind. He had brown fur and a short, severe military-cut white mane. The mare looked just as intense, but with fewer many scars. Her own dark mane was tied back underneath a knitted hat.

“Then shoot her,” the stallion scowled. “If she was looting, those are our orders.”

“Was she, though?” the mare asked, and the stallion peered at Emberglow.

Emberglow’s muscles tensed, ready to leap into the air as quickly as possible, or perhaps around the corner of a building.

“She doesn’t have bags of contraband. She hasn’t been wounded from fighting. Looks like a refugee to me.”

The older stallion nodded after a moment. “Probably right, Precious. Stand down, kid. You! Pegasus mare! Rioter or refugee?”

Obviously there was only one right answer, even though technically she was neither. “Refugee!” she called out. “Trying to make it to the Star Shine building. I heard it was safe.”

“Approach slowly. No sudden moves,” the mare called.

Emberglow steeled herself. This is what she wanted, right? To join some of the refugees and get into the Mystic’s headquarters. But joining with other ponies meant she would have to lie, something she’d never quite been the best at.

But she stepped forward anyway, moving towards the three ponies. When she reached them, the young soldier looked nervous, the mare looked curious, and the leader looked… still very tense.

“Terminal Blast, captain of the Red Ruin,” he said tersely. “We’ve been conscripted to act as street security by the Adamants. So that’s where our orders and our money come from. And those orders are ‘shoot the looters, and drag the refugees back to the places of safety’. I don’t have time to argue or convince, so if you want to be safe, you come with me, shut up, don’t ask questions, and follow my orders, or Precious’ orders here.” He indicated the mare, who nodded. “Other than that, I don’t care who you are or what you do. Got it?”

“Yes sir,” she said. It was automatic. There was something in his voice that reminded her of Delver, and she felt a pang of grief.

“That’s a good start,” Blast said. “Fall in, refugee.”

"We'll offer the most safety you'll likely get,” the mare, Precious, said. Her words were harsh, but Emberglow saw a glimmer of compassion behind her amber eyes. “Keep your head down, follow orders, and you'll live to see another day. Understood?"

“Yes, ma’am. Are there lots of refugees?” she asked.

“A few,” Precious said as they moved around the corner of the building into an alleyway. “Most ponies are bunkered down in their homes, or have evacuated. The Adamants are setting up camps to the south of the city, but it’s too far to go in this storm for those of us near the center of town. So we’re gathering at the Star Shine building, or the Shield of the Heavens for those who are closer. Sir North Wind has commandeered every military unit and mercenary band in the city to make this happen.”

She lifted a hoof towards Emberglow, a strange twist in her muzzle, before patting her awkwardly on the back. It seemed out of place for the militant mare, and Precious seemed to realize it quickly before retracting her hoof. “Don’t worry. This will all be over soon, I’m sure.”

“I hope so,” Emberglow said.

They walked a little ways down the alley before it opened into a wider space behind several buildings. Emberglow could see a dozen or so more red-uniformed ponies, guarding three times as many huddled, shivering figures. Emberglow was surprised; she hadn’t imagined there would be this many.

“How many still out on patrol?” Blast barked at one of the ponies in red.

She saluted. “Only two teams, Drei and Sieben, haven’t checked in yet, sir.”

“Any signs of combat?”

“No sir.”

“Good. You lot!” he shouted to the refugees. “We’ll be moving soon. Keep resting for now, but be ready to move your asses as soon as the patrols are in. New mare, with the others. Stay behind my soldiers and you’ll be safer.”

There were no groans or complaints from the refugees; Emberglow could see exhaustion and relief on all of their faces. There was, in fact, very little speaking between them. She moved to the middle, standing next to a young family, a father and three foals who eyed her suspiciously. On her other side was an older grandmotherly mare.

“You sit tight, dearie, and we’ll be safe and warm before you know it,” the old mare said with a grin. “These boys and girls seem rough, but they’re good at heart.”

“Thanks,” Emberglow said, a little distracted. She was looking around the ponies gathered. There were a few that were bandaged, some that limped as they moved around. The older mare next to her even had a dirty bandage wrapped around her eye. “Um?” she said, trying to wave a hoof to get Precious’ attention. The leader, Blast, seemed occupied chatting with some of his soldiers. Precious looked her way, curious and wary.

“What?”

“I have some medical experience, and some of these ponies are wounded. Do you mind if I see if anypony needs any help?”

“What kind of medical experience?” Precious asked.

Lying felt impossible. But the truth was just as difficult.

“I’ve been to med school,” she said, her ears drooping a little at the incomplete truth. But there was something that sparked in the other mare’s eyes, a hint of sympathy.

“You can look, but don’t expect to do much,” Precious said. “Like the captain told you, we have to be ready to move soon. We have many more streets to sweep and many blocks to go on our way back to the Star Shine building, so there won’t be time for a lot of treatments.”

“I understand,” Emberglow said. She turned first to the old mare at her side.

“Kind of you, doctor,” the old mare said. “Only don’t worry about Old Granny Emerald’s eye.” She motioned to the bandage on her head. “It’s fine, even though it vexes me. Had it bandaged up by a nice young doctor just like you. Named Marchioness, though she didn’t like the name much.”

Emberglow stared for a moment in shock, before remembering to close her mouth. She remembered. A wounded Discordant, with a bandage over his eye and an emerald mane, named Vex.

“Of course,” Emberglow said, off balance. “But if you were wounded before, why are you out here?” She had no idea how to ask the questions she wanted answers to without exposing both of them.

“Sometimes a pony’s gotta do hard things,” ‘Granny Emerald’ said vaguely. “Here, lemme help. Us experienced types gotta keep an eye on you reckless younger ones. It’s an element of age, I think.”

Vex was better at this than she was. The use of the word element was awkward. Was he here for her, because she was an element? But how would the other Discordant have known where she was? And why was it only him? Her mind raced.

“Well, don’t go on woolgathering, dearie. You’ve got a duty to do, don’t you? I’ll just toddle behind you and help with whatever you’ve got going on.”

She thought she understood the message being sent.

“Thank you, Granny Emerald,” Emberglow said shakily. It was comforting to know that even in this bizarre situation, separated from her friends and in enemy territory, she had backup. Comforting, and a little frightening; what if she couldn’t maintain the ruse Vex had created?

As she moved among the capital refugees, at first they eyed Emberglow with suspicion. She fully understood. These ponies had been uprooted from their homes, into an uncertain situation, and put in danger by the very ponies that were supposed to protect them.

But after a few soft words and a little coaxing Emberglow was able to do some preliminary exams while they waited. Most of the injuries among them weren’t serious, though a few needed bandages changed. She was silently grateful for remembering to bring her father’s old first aid kit, and equally grateful that the supplies inside were fresh, even if the case outside was old. Her father had always kept up with that habit.

As time went on, though, there was always a sensation of worry in the back of her head. Time spent here was time lost, and Rarity was in danger. Each wound she stitched, each bandage replaced, was another second where she could be coming to harm.

But there was no other way. The refugees all told the same story; the Star Shine building, as well as the Adamant’s Shield of the Heavens, were heavily guarded. The best chance she had of getting inside was with a group like this. She hated it, but forced herself to have patient.

In a way, it was much like the days on the Lady Elegant. On the ship there had been weeks of nothingness, followed by a burst of activity. The Outpost had been the same. She wondered if this was the struggle all soldiers had to deal with. Ultimately, though, the best thing to do was to push forward and keep her mind, and hooves, busy.

‘Granny Emerald’ stayed with her, a not-so-silent shadow, chattering away in her disguise as an old grandmother, dispensing advice and filling the silence when Emberglow’s patients wouldn’t speak. It was as if he knew exactly how to ease the tension she felt. He was the more experienced Knight, after all, and she felt glad for his presence. As she worked, she felt less anxious and more hopeful. They’d move soon, and she’d be able to find Rarity and keep her safe.

Maybe, though, it wasn’t just the chatter that was helping. Maybe it was something more. Heartwing had said something about the Windigoes being repulsed by things like friendship and harmony. If this winter really was their doing, it stood to reason that acts of kindness, and expressions of loyalty and friendship, would serve to push them back.

Perhaps it was her imagination, but this small alleyway clearing started to feel warmer.

The worst injury was a broken hoof. The teenaged colt was stoically trying to pretend he wasn’t in pain, even though it was obvious he was favoring the limb as he walked. Emberglow set his leg and splinted it.

“You’re going to need to see another healer as soon as possible, somepony who can give you a real cast,” Emberglow told him sternly as she did the best she could to sort out a temporary splint for the colt. “I’m sure there will be somepony at the Star Shine building.”

She tried not to think about the fact that there would be very few Mystics specializing in medicine, and those few were likely too busy. The Radiants, of course, would not be available.

“Yes, ma’am,” the kid said.

“Meanwhile, keep doing what you’re doing, and don’t put any weight on it. It’s going to—”

A commotion coming down the alley interrupted her. Two ponies, carrying a third between them. The third was slumped and unconscious.

Captain Blast was quick to move over. “Report!” he demanded.

“Team Drei is lost, sir. Dead. We happened upon them on our way back.” The refugees began to murmur fearfully. “We don’t know if it was looters or…”

The mercenary left the rest of his sentence unsaid. Blast nodded firmly.

“Right. How’d Hoplite get wounded?”

“We took some fire as we were trying to retrieve their bodies, sir. Hoplite got hit.” the mercenary said, his ears drooping. S’why we think it’s looters hiding in abandoned buildings. The…uh…Vigilants don’t use guns usually. We thought it best to retreat.”

“Right call,” Blast grunted. “Where were the fallen?”

“Corner of Jasper Street and Twenty-Seventh,” he replied. Blast pursed his lips in thought, looking with a scowl at the assembled refugees.

“We have a duty,” Precious reminded him, stepping up.

“Yeah. A duty to our own,” he said. “Not necessarily to extra baggage.”

None of the refugees seemed upset enough at the disparaging remarks to say much about it.

“They’re dead,” Precious said. “They’re not going anywhere. We’ll be back.”

“I don’t like leaving my own behind,” Blast growled, but shook his head. “Okay, you lot. Up and moving, we’re shifting to the alley behind the Opal Street Cathedral. It’s seven blocks away, so keep your heads down, move as fast as you can, and stay behind my soldiers. You, new mare. You’re a medic? Take a look at my soldier while everypony else gets ready to go.”

Emberglow didn’t need long; the wound was serious, but not life-threatening. She checked his breathing and did her best with her limited tools.

“I think he’ll be okay, captain,” Emberglow said as she started to bandage up the bleeding gunshot wound. “A through-and-through, I can see entrance and exit wounds. I think it mostly just hit muscle, though you’re going to want one of the Adamant’s medics to give it a closer look when you can. He should be fine to walk, if he stays off the wounded leg.”

“Good,” Blast said gruffly. “Hoplite, you heard the mare. Stay with the civvies for now. New mare, you stay close to him. I don’t want another of my ponies to fall on this damned fool patrol.” Hoplite nodded through gritted teeth, and Emberglow spared a glare for the captain. Did he not care about the work he was doing? The civilians?

But there was no time, nor did she have the energy to argue back at him. With a call from Blast, the group moved out, thinning to rows of two or three to squeeze through the alley before widening out into the street beyond.

“Goodness, this is all so frightening,” ‘Granny Emerald’ said at her side. “I do hope everypony will be safe.”

“Do you have family in town, Miss Emerald?” Emberglow asked carefully as they ran. She was finding moving as a group much easier; the Red Ruin soldiers tramped down the snow, while the refugees moved through the paths they trailblazed. “Siblings, perhaps?”

“Oh, yes, a few,” Vex said. “And call me Granny, young mare. I didn’t go through five foals and fifteen grandfoals to be called ‘miss’ by some young tart.” There was no asperity in Vex’s affected voice, and Emberglow found herself smiling at his commitment to his role. “But I do have some siblings who tried to come to town to help out when all this ruckus started. Don’t quite know where they ended up, but they’re scattered about, if ya know where to look.”

“Do you know what they’re up to?”

“Oh, working on ways to help, if they can. A lot like you are. Say, what are you up to all by yourself? Don’t you have friends or siblings?”

“I hope to find them,” Emberglow admitted. “But my priority is the Star Shine building.”

“Sounds like a friend of mine,” Vex said, nodding. “She lost a diamond once, and couldn’t be bothered to do anything else until we’d all banded together to find it. Well, whatever your ‘diamond’ is, I’ll help you find it, young miss.”

He really was good at this. Perhaps she’d have to spend some time later talking to the spies and operatives after all of this action had calmed down.

Or maybe she’d retire.

The thought filled her with a sudden sense of longing so powerful that her eyes brimmed with tears. Herself and Rarity, not on an adventure, not fighting, not running for their lives or questing for Elements, just… at peace. Cuddling before a fireplace in their own home. Spending time with their friends.

Maybe even foals, someday.

It was enough to make her stumble as they ran. Vex reached out a helpful hoof.

“You okay, missy?”

“Yes,” Emberglow said, her voice rough. “Just… imagining what things might be like when all this is over. Imagining what life will be like when there’s no fighting, no… no running and hiding, no… none of this.”

“Hang on to that hope,” Vex said, his own emotion cutting through the affected voice and his disguised face. Emberglow blinked tears and stared at him. “Having a home to go back to at the end of the day is a powerful thing, and it can get you through a lot. Even all of this.”

* * * * *

The next few hours were frustrating. Twice more the unlikely caravan stopped so that Blast and his soldiers could sweep the streets, patrolling for more refugees. There was one more skirmish with looters, ending with Team Fünf returning bloodstained with grim faces, but no significant injuries. Emberglow had no desire to ask what had happened to them.

Only a few more lost souls joined their group, and she saw to their injuries as best she could. Most ponies had bruises from encounters with looters. Most, also, had stories.

As the other refugees started to open up to her, it was the stories that frightened Emberglow the most.

There was a common thread; ponies they had known for years, neighbors, friends, and family members, suddenly losing their minds. They started responding to voices that were not there, and began lashing out at others. It began with mistrust and accusations of betrayal, before shifting to violence.

With ears pinned and faces full of shame, some of the refugees even admitted to hearing the voices themselves.

Emberglow told them all the same thing. Do not listen, do not give in, and open yourself to trust, love, friendship.

It was harder to do than it sounded, especially when she heard them sometimes herself.

But the presence of other ponies, and the nearby support of a hidden Discordant, was enough for now to keep them at bay. That, and the knowledge that Bubblegum was with her, somehow, even though she kept silent.

After the second stop, Blast announced to the group that their next would be the Star Shine building. Emberglow expected to hear expressions of relief, but those around her mostly just nodded in their exhaustion. Just like before, they set out in one last march through the snow.

The chaos came with no warning. One moment the entire group was rushing down the street. The next, a group of four Vigilants, with ragged cloaks and blood-spattered armor, burst around the corner.

Emberglow found herself reaching for something to defend herself with; her shield, or a spear. But she’d brought no weapons, and her gauntlet was hidden in her saddlebag for obvious reasons.

The Vigilants never even hesitated. The one in front was a middle aged mare with a disheveled mane, a bent and dented helmet, and a crazed expression in her eyes.

“Traitors will be put to death!” she shrieked, her banshee wail carrying a haunting impression of the howling of wind. She charged forward, spear raised before any of the Red Ruin mercenaries could level their rifles or set their bayonets. The other three behind her, just as crazed-looking as their leader, charged in right behind her, with the one in the back raising his gauntlet to start casting a spell.

To his credit, Captain Blast wasn’t surprised for long. His reflexes were on point as he dashed forward to meet the mare’s charge. He used his own rifle like a spear, knocking hers aside far enough that the blade only grazed his shoulder deeply, rather than piercing his innards and sending him on a quick trip to his next incarnation.

Emberglow tensed, as if to move forward and join in to help.

“Woah, missy. Remember you’re a civilian,” ‘Grandma Emerald’ said, putting a restraining hoof on Emberglow’s shoulder. It took a moment for her brain to catch up to what Vex was saying. They had to maintain cover.

“But…”

“Be ready, because I’m sure there will be injuries,” he said softly.

“They’re Knights, though,” Emberglow said, as more Red Ruin mercenaries started to form a line in front of the refugees. She noticed nopony was firing their rifles; that meant they had training. Bullets would have been a liability, possibly even ricocheting off armor to hit an ally. “We should…”

“We should be ready to help if they need us,” Vex finished for her. “These soldiers know their work. We’ll be fine.”

But Emberglow wasn’t so sure. Blast was trading blows with the Vigilant leader, and it was obvious that they were well matched in skill. This meant their contest may come down to strength, something the magically-enhanced Knight would naturally have more of.

Blast was on the defensive, dexterously turning away the wild stabbing of the Vigilant’s spear with the body of his rifle. In contrast to her crazed thrusts, his expression was calm and cold.

Meanwhile, though, his soldiers were not doing so well. The Knight in the rear finished his spell, striking the ground with his hooves. The ice and snow cracked and shook, as the ground underneath their very hooves became unstable, shaking and trembling. Emberglow could barely keep upright, and many of the refugees tumbled to the ground, crying out in fear and alarm. Icicles and other debris fell off of nearby buildings, some striking the unsuspecting ponies below.

The Knight began to cast again.

“We have to stop him,” Emberglow said. “But how?”

“Here,” Vex said, passing over a small object. It was a broken segment of icicle, about the size of an apple. Emberglow grabbed it, pausing just long enough to take aim, before hurling it at the casting Knight’s head.

It missed, but the Knight paused for a moment to glare at her.

“Hey, y’all, Miss Medic has the right idea!” Vex called out to the other civilians. Few of them poked their heads up, but enough did. The young colt with the broken hoof, as well as the wounded mercenary Hoplite, and a few of the others, reached down to pick up chunks of ice or dirty snow, hurling them in a makeshift artillery barrage at the distant Knight.

It wouldn’t do much damage with his armor, but it kept him ducking, holding up a hoof to defend himself from the downpour.

“Traitors and heretics, all of you!” the lead Knight howled, battering away at Blast’s defenses. “String you up! Spill your guts! Paint the snow red!”

Emberglow was close enough to see the spittle flying from her mouth, and the glazed look in her eyes. She was a madmare, and her fellow Knights were little different.

“What is happening?” one of the refugees gasped. “Why are they like this?”

“They’re not Knights any longer,” Vex responded. “They’re lost, to the voices on the wind.”

Many of the refugees recoiled in fear, even as the line of mercenaries started to buckle. One of them fell under the spear of a Knight, his blood gushing into the snow. A second was knocked to the ground senseless by the shaft of a spear. Another mercenary tried to close the gap but the Knights rushed in, knocking mercenaries aside as they pushed into the gap towards the civilians.

“They need help!” Emberglow cried, as Precious cried out in pain as a spear sliced into a forehoof and Blast was steadily pushed back. Emberglow tore open her saddlebags, ripping out the gauntlet and slamming it onto her hoof.

At her side, Vex winced, his lips pressed together in a frown as he threw back the tattered robe that disguised his own gauntlet.

Together the two began casting, with shouts of alarm from the refugees on all sides.

“Don’t let up!” Vex called firmly, still with Grandma Emerald's crackle. “Keep the pressure on the one in the back!” He spoke as he cast, and as soon as his runes were completed a short but wicked looking glowing orange blade extended from his forehoof. Emberglow recognized the spell as one of Mercy’s favorites.

She completed her own spell, a variation of the same hard-light spell family, though she’d made herself a shield rather than a blade. With no other hesitation she lunged forward alongside Precious, while Vex clung close to her side, his own blade flashing towards the Knights pushing into the gap.

Precious spared a shocked glance at Emberglow, but quickly refocused on the fight. Emberglow did her best to guard Precious’ left side, knocking the rabid Knight’s spear aside with every thrust.

“Run,” she told the Knight, whose eyes flicked to her. They were full of senseless rage. Emberglow wasn’t sure he even heard her. “Run and spare yourself. Please. There’s no reason—"

“Beware the words of the heretic!” he wailed mindlessly as his spear battered her shield. “Her words are poison! Her actions are chaos! Her—”

But Precious had used the distraction of Emberglow’s words and shield in order to find an opening. The Knight cut off in a gurgle as her bayonet slipped underneath his criniere and into his flesh.

He barely bled. Emberglow noticed, with growing horror, that the Knight’s nose and ears were frostbitten, and his breath wasn’t fogging in the cold.

On her own left, Vex had already knocked his opponent to the ground. He was charging towards the caster, who was just now trying again after the rain of ice and snowballs was letting up.

It didn’t take long for Vex to slide up alongside the Vigilant, who shied back with a scream. His bladed hoof knocked aside the Vigilant’s helmet, before Vex punched him in the face with a crunch of bone. He fell without another sound. Further away, Emberglow heard a muffled wet explosion, and jerked her head up in time to see the last Vigilant falling.

Blast was standing over the corpse of his opponent. There was a smoking hole in the Vigilant’s armor and torso, and Blast was pushing a pair of blood-stained goggles.

There was only a moment of silence.

“R-red Ruin,” Captain Blast said, panting to catch his breath. He drew a small device from his uniform. It looked like a cross between kettle weight and a clothes iron. An explosive of some sort, she was sure. “Shoot the heretics.”

For a single, horrified second, Emberglow thought he meant for his own men to execute the fallen Vigilants. At least two of them were dead already, she was certain. But then a dozen or so rifles leveled her way.

Vex slowly made his way up to her side.

“Please,” Emberglow said, raising her shield to try and cover them both. It wouldn’t be enough; neither one of them was wearing armor.

“We have orders,” Blast said coldly. “Don’t engage the Yellows if there’s any danger. But if you have an opportunity, shoot to kill.”

The temperature dropped noticeably, a cold blast of wind strong enough to make the terrified civilians, and even a few mercenaries, cry out in shock. Emberglow tried to think of something to say. She wanted to beg, to appeal to their mercy, or to the fact that she and Vex just helped them in their fight.

But no words came, her voice and thoughts abducted by the icy wind.

But the hail of bullets she expected didn’t come. There was something in the Captain’s expression, something curious. His eyes were unfocused, and his mouth moved silently.

Like he was talking to somepony.

Or perhaps speaking with a voice that wasn’t there.

Suddenly Emberglow knew what she had to say.

She dropped her shield spell, exposing them both more than they were. Vex gave a small cry of alarm, but Emberglow ignored him.

“You hear them, don’t you? The same voices that drove these poor Knights to madness.”

Blast scowled, stepping back, but he held up a hoof. Rifles lowered.

“It’s not in your head, Captain,” Emberglow said, stepping forward. “You’re not crazy. I promise. You’re completely normal. And you’re not the only one.”

She raised her voice. “Who else hears the voices of murder on the wind?” Nearly half of the ponies, civilians and mercenaries both, flinched. “Who else watched a friend or a loved one give in? Who else saw what it did to them? Who else was close enough to look into the eyes of these Vigilants as they attacked us for no reason?”

“But…you’re Discordants,” Blast hissed. “This is all your fault. You created this. And I have orders.”

“What are they telling you right now?” Emberglow said, as the demonic whispers began to claw at the edges of her own mind. Desperation filled her voice. “What are they telling you to do? What do they want you to do? These ponies became their puppets. Is that what you want for yourself?”

Blast’s gaze flickered down to the dead Vigilant at his hooves, then back up to Emberglow. His hard eyes widened in shock.

“What… what is that?”

Emberglow was glowing. Or, rather, her Element was, from underneath her gambeson.

“We didn’t come here to hurt you. We didn’t cause this carnage. We’re here to clean it up,” she said. “To fix it, so all you ponies can go back to your peaceful lives.”

Vex was nodding alongside her, though his eyes were also on the glow emanating from her chest. With one hoof, she carefully pulled the gemstone out from her clothing so that everypony could see its light.

“This… this is the Element of Honesty.” She’d never claimed it out loud. Not to other ponies. She hated how arrogant it felt. It was like her noble title, or like the way her parents had treated her after her Knighting.

She never wanted to be more than others.

“Once borne by Saint Applejack herself. Now, we’ve been summoned back here to deal with this winter, and the foul violence and bloodshed that’s descended on your city. Yes, I am Discordant.” The gem pulsed, as if agreeing with her.

And her honesty.

“Yes, that’s what I am. But I mean you no harm. And I never have.”

It pulsed again.

“No! I… I have orders. I cannot… you are Yellows, I have to… yes, I know… yes, I see them, they must… yes, I… no, I… but…”

Blast’s eyes darted about, blinking rapidly. Emberglow watched him as he seemed to flicker back and forth between madness and sanity.

“Please,” Emberglow said, praying her voice reached him. He continued to argue with phantoms only he could hear, his mutters silently fading as his rifle tip once again rose to point at her.

His bayonet glinted in the feeble light of the street lamps.

“Please let me help you.”

“I…I…I…”

He pulled the trigger.

Emberglow waited for the hot iron of pain. But there was nothing.

Precious had dashed through the snow, shoving the barrel of the rifle up. The shot had gone into the clouds, high and harmless.

"She's right,” Precious grunted, sounding surprised at her own actions. “It sounds insane, but she's right. The voices... we have to fight them."

“How?” Blast sounded desperate.

“Love,” Emberglow said automatically. “Kindness, loyalty, laughter. Honesty and generosity. Towards all ponies, not just the ones on one side or the other.”

“Saints… saints, they’re right,” one of the mercenaries breathed. “Can’t you feel it, captain?” He lowered his rifle. “It’s… getting warmer. Saints, I’m not making that up, am I? I’m not crazy.”

He wasn’t. The glow of the Element of Harmony was noticeably warming the air around them, driving back the snow.

“I… I didn’t realize,” another soldier said. “I thought I was losing it. Going mad. I held off doing what they were saying, the voices, but now…” his eyes glowed with wet tears. “…now they’re quiet. For the first time in hours. Days!”

One after another, each rifle lowered slowly until there was no longer a forest of gleaming death pointed at the two Discordants. Finally Blast slumped as well, and would have fallen if Precious hadn’t caught him.

“Harmony keeps them at bay. It’s the only way,” she said, Vex nodding in wonder alongside her. “Harmony between ponies. Not violence. You can’t fight them that way. You never will. You—”

“Saints! These ponies are… are still alive!”

It was one of the mercenaries. His cry of alarm cut through Emberglow’s speech, and she looked over. He was pointing at the downed Vigilant that Precious had stabbed.

Emberglow rushed over.

“Wait!” Blast called out harshly. “What are you doing?”

“I told you,” Emberglow said calmly, ignoring the rifle that was once again pointed her way. “Kindness keeps them at bay. Even between enemies.”

She started casting; she didn’t waste time on diagnosis, instead addressing the obvious wound to the pony’s throat. First one spell to knit the wound, then a second to restore lost blood. A third diagnosis spell showed that the pony was stable, although he’d likely never speak again. Even his frostbite seemed to be clearing up, far too rapidly to make sense.

The wind had nearly stopped. Snow was melting all around them.

“These two are fine, just unconscious. Though this one’s gonna have to get surgery for a broken muzzle.”

Meanwhile, Vex had moved, working quickly on the two he had downed.

That left the one Blast had taken out. Emberglow took one glance to realize she was beyond saving, though she still cast a diagnosis spell while Blast and the others looked on, stunned.

“Dead,” she said sadly. Blast nodded, looking completely off balance.

“What now? What do we do with them?” he whispered, gesturing to the unconscious Vigilants.

“If we are successful, I think they’ll be fine. If not...”

Emberglow shrugged, trailing off. There wasn’t more that needed to be said about that.

“I would put them in one of these buildings. I doubt they’ll be in a state to come after you again. Especially if we move on quickly.”

“Why?” Suspicion crept back into the captain’s voice. “Why do you want to go to the Star Shine building so badly? What’s there for you Yellows?”

“I hope there’s a chance to put an end to all this,” Emberglow said. “I have a friend there… a… my marefriend. I need to see that she’s safe. And she’s a part of all this, I think.”

The Element of Honesty pulsed again. The air got warmer.

Blast stared at her for several breaths. Emberglow felt pierced by his regard.

"Saints, you're... yer speakin truth..." Blast breathed, a hint of a country drawl leaking through his usually clipped tone. Then his eyes narrowed as he collected himself. “Very well. Rangefinder, Swordfish, Blossomburst? Get these three Vigilants into that farrier’s shop over there. The rest of you, triage on the wounded. Worst cases come see Miss Yellow here. You,” he glared at her, “are our medic until we get to the building. We’ll keep your secret, both of you, as long as you don’t cause trouble and follow orders. You civilian lot? You heard all of this. Any one of you that even thinks about betrayal or turning in our best hope of getting out of this alive, and we’re all going to be ponycicles. I’ll shoot ya myself before I let that happen.”

“I can be your medic, sir,” Emberglow said, as the Red Ruin scrambled to follow Blast’s orders. Emberglow glanced at her battery. It was about half full. “I don’t have much left, though.”

“Do what you can,” Blast barked, before turning his cold gaze towards the mangled corpse of the Vigilant.

* * * * *

The rest of their march through the snow was mostly silent. Blast was clearly dealing with some difficult thoughts. Precious kept glancing back at the two of them, looking contemplative and worried. The civilians now shied away from them, but not too far; as if they wished to be close to the warmth that seemed to encase them in a bubble, yet far enough away to not be tainted by the presence of heretics.

It did mean she and Vex could have a more open conversation.

“As soon as the five of you disappeared from your spell, Lady Snow ordered every able-bodied Knight into town. Each one of us has orders to spread out in small teams, or solo for experienced infiltrators, to look for the Elements and keep them safe,” Vex said. “It’s really just pure coincidence that I found you.”

“Coincidence? Or Harmony?” Emberglow said. “Whatever it was, I’m lucky you were with them. I’d have probably gotten myself killed.”

“You’re more resourceful than you think,” Vex said. “This? Getting them all on your side even after you blew our cover? I don’t know if I could have done that.”

“Thanks,” Emberglow said. “But you’re great at this. Disguises, infiltration. Why are you still in character? They know we’re Discordant.”

“Sometimes, it’s still useful to wear a mask,” Vex said.

“So what next, after we get to the Star Shine building?”

“I stick by your side, and help you get Rarity out,” he said, but Emberglow was already shaking her head.

“No. I need a way of reaching out to my friends. There has to be a way to get in touch with them, to bring us all together. You have ways of contacting the others?”

Vex flinched. “Not much that’s reliable. We have a couple of rendezvous points where one of us will be hiding and gathering news. Lady Snow has a command post set up, too. I can check those.”

“I need to know where they are. But I’m also not going to wait. I’m going into the Star Shine building to look for Rarity when we get there.” She paused. “I need you to make contact with the other Discordants and work with them to try and find the other Elements.”

Vex didn’t like that at all. It came through clearly even in his disguised, wrinkled expression. But he nodded reluctantly.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea, you going in there on your own,” he said.

Emberglow shook her head. “I’ll be going in with the other refugees. I’ll be fine. Captain Blast has seen what kind of setup they have, it’s a safe place.”

“But if enough people know who you are?” Vex countered. “The more people that know a secret, the harder it is to keep.”

“I have faith in them,” Emberglow said, touching the gem on her chest. And she did. Despite keeping their distance, the other ponies seemed to look at her with a sort of awe. Maybe they weren’t so afraid of her being a heretic; maybe it was just some strange sort of reverence that kept them away. She didn’t like it, but she’d accept it. “I need you to have faith in me. Find my friends, if you can. Join up with the other Discordants.”

“You could come with me, help find them yourself,” he tried, though it was obvious from his frown that he already knew the answer.

“I need to go to Rarity. And I’ll need backup from my friends. No offense to you, Vex, but…” she tapped her chest again, and he nodded.

“Got it. I’ll be quick, then. Find the other Elements, lead them back to the Star Shine building. Wish me luck.”

“Good luck,” she said, and he saluted, before turning to dart away.

Captain Blast looked up in suspicion. “Where’s she going?”

“To find the other Elements of Harmony,” Emberglow said. “We’ll need all of them. Don’t worry, I’m staying.”

Eyes narrowed, he shot a dark glance at Precious, who nodded.

“If this is some trick, I’ll shoot you,” he said to her. He did not sound like he was kidding.

“You already know there’s not,” Emberglow noted, and Blast scowled but didn’t contradict her.

It was only a couple more blocks to the Star Shine building. The refugees were starting to get excited, a palpable sense of relief flowing over them the closer they got to safety.

They finally turned the corner into the plaza in front of the Mystic headquarters, and once again Emberglow was shocked at how alien it all seemed. The last time she’d been here, the plaza had been busy, full of ponies with all sorts of business; Knights and squires, employees of the various buildings, even pilgrims taking in one of the holiest sites of Saint Twilight.

Now, it was a sea of white, snow trampled down into a hard icy floor by a hundred hooves. A cordon of purple-armored Knights stood guard outside the front doors, which were closed. Emberglow could see a few pegasi Mystics stationed on the roof, as well, though nopony was flying.

There was actually less snow here. For a moment Emberglow took that as a hopeful sign; perhaps somepony in the Star Shine building had realized the way to fight against the unholy winter. But it became more clear when she and the other refugees stepped fully into the plaza, and she saw the runes glowing through from beneath. Cold-suppression magics, with riders for wind, snow, and other moisture. And the runes were already starting to strain and crackle. They wouldn’t last forever.

The Red Ruin were not the only soldiers guiding refugees into the building; there was already another group at the door, watched over by a trio of Knights Adamant while Mystics moved through their ranks, asking questions and inspecting their belongings.

“Yellow mare,” Blast said beside Emberglow, startling her out of her concentration. “Give me your gauntlet. I have a permit for them. But if they find it on you they’ll ask too many questions.”

She looked at him in shock, and he scowled. It seemed to be the natural state of his face.

“I’m not doing it to help you. I’m not your ally, and I won’t listen if you get into trouble and come crawling back to me for help. Unless, of course, you can match the hazard pay the Adamants are shelling out for my service. But if you get caught with that thing it’s gonna look bad for me and mine. So hoof it over. Once we’re safe inside, I’ll give it back.”

Emberglow paused, and her gaze drifted back to the Mystics interrogating the earlier group of refugees. There was some sort of altercation in process; an old stallion was arguing loudly with a pair of inquisitors. Emberglow flinched; the two Mystics were growing impatient, if their body language was anything to go by. It was hard to tell what they were fighting about, but it became clear when one of the Mystics reached out for the old stallion’s cane, and he yanked back.

Were they confiscating weapons? Was that the issue?

The tug of war only lasted a few seconds, before the Mystic yanked the cane away, knocking the old pony to the snow. Even from this far away Emberglow could tell it was a bad fall, and several of the civilians around him began shouting angrily.

Underneath her hooves, the cold-suppression runes pulsed once. Twice. They flickered. Then they broke.

“Ruin, form up in front of the civilians,” Blast ordered warily. “Tight half-circle. We…”

Up ahead the civilians surged forward, battering at the two Mystics with their hooves. The Mystics pushed back, even going as far as to draw truncheons. Emberglow took a step forward.

“Hold steady, mare,” Blast said. “This ain’t a scuffle you wanna drown in.”

“But…”

But Emberglow never got to voice her objections. The descent into madness only took a few seconds. In one heartbeat, it was only two Mystics with clubs, beating off a small riot. In the next, dozens of civilians were trampling a small throng of Mystics, who were starting to fight back with spears and spells. Blood sprayed onto the snow as combatants and innocents alike were caught up in the sudden skirmish.

Emberglow could already see limp bodies on the ground.

“Saints alive, what is happening?” sobbed a horrified voice next to her; the wounded mercenary Hoplite. “Sir, what do we…”

“This place isn’t safe,” Blast said. He sounded resolved; he’d already made a decision. “We take the civvies somewhere else. The Shield of the Heavens.”

He didn’t say it out loud, but it was obvious everypony was terrified and thinking the same thing; what if the Adamant headquarters was the same?

“Did you notice, mare? There’s nopony guarding the door,” Blast said to her with a nod towards the headquarters. “Are you coming with us?”

“No,” Emberglow said, swallowing hard. “No. Rarity is in there.”

“Rarity? That’s who you’re after? The fake saint we all heard the other day? If she’s in there, she’s the highest security prisoner they’ve got. Good luck, dead mare. If you survive, and ever get bored of being a Yellow, there’s always space in the Ruin for crazy.”

“Yes, sir,” Emberglow said automatically.

“Okay, Ruin, we’re turning east. “Skirt the plaza, I don’t want anypony getting caught up in whatever that is. And if you start to hear the voices again? Tell your neighbor and start singing a song, or something.”

As Emberglow started towards the chaos up ahead, one hoof after another, with one more wave of the hoof, the Red Ruin and their civilian charges set off at a quick pace. They weren’t even out of the plaza before Emberglow heard Blast’s voice again, this time raised in song; a hymn to Saint Applejack.

Emberglow kept humming the same tune in her head. The further she got from the Ruin, though, the harder it was to hear her own thoughts over the howls of the wind… and the terror that wind brought.

hopeless failure

she’ll be dead before you arrive

stay and taste the red snow, blood on your hooves, your teeth, your tongue

“You’re all getting predictable,” she snarled at the voices, surprising even herself at her anger. She imagined the sentiment was more of a Heartwing thing than her own usual thoughts, but she was getting tired of the voices on the wind.

Plus, thinking of her friends tended to keep them at bay.

So she tried to channel more of Heartwing as hoofstep followed slow, careful hoofstep towards the Star Shine building.

“Really, there’s no substance to you at all. I don’t even know if you’re real. Maybe you’re just all in my head. Or even some sort of physiological condition. You could be a hallucination induced by stress, undereating, food poisoning. You could be something I ate or drank. There’s more wine than wind to you, after all.”

It sounded very much like something Heartwing would say.

“You really are foolish creatures. Not much of a vocabulary either. Instinct only, I’m guessing,” she continued, finding confidence as she walked. She could imagine Heartwing at her side, charging towards the building with her.

In a moment she was at a run.

“I mean, your own actions are pointless. What is your goal? You make us fight amongst ourselves. What are we, your prey? That makes no sense! If we kill each other off, there will be nopony left to consume!”

It didn’t make sense. Nor did the falsely cheery tone she affected in imitation of the ancient unicorn. But Heartwing didn’t always make sense. It was part of his charm.

Her heart pounded the closer she got to the building. Emberglow’s medic instincts demanded that she slow down and help the wounded and dying. But she could not. There was a bigger picture here, and she steeled herself to run past.

Oddly enough, nopony tried to stop her. A few noticed her passage, but as she bore no weapon and suggested no violence, there was no threat.

But looking into the eyes of the ponies she passed caused Emberglow’s breath to catch in her throat, and her stomach to flip with nauseous realization. The only reason she was being ignored was because the Mystics and refugees were too busy tearing each other apart.

The front doors were slightly ajar, and Emberglow slipped inside to behold even more chaos.

There were hundreds of ponies all crammed into the atrium; each one adding their own voice of fear and anger to the cacophony that echoed off the walls and ceiling. The civilians outnumbered the Knights by at least twenty to one. Nervous young Knights clutched at spears and rifles, ready for a spark that would ignite this bed of chaos into violence just like outside.

“Hey! Who are—” one of the Knights who had been standing at the door, his eyes wide with horror at what was happening outside, moved to challenge Emberglow. “Nopony is supposed to---”

“What’s your name?” she asked, cutting him off. He paused, looking startled and confused, his body automatically responding to the authority in her voice.

“…X-Xerarch Dust. But—”

“You need to stop this before it becomes like what’s out there, Xerarch. If you don’t want a massacre on your hooves, you’re going to have to start singing.”

There was another flash of orange from her now-hidden Element. Emberglow noticed, but she wasn’t sure if the Mystic did.

“Sing? But—”

“A hymn to Saint Twilight. Something both the Knights and the civilians would know. Come on!”

She raised her voice and shouted, loud enough that everypony nearby could hear.

“We need to draw together! We need to hold firm and have faith!”

She hated herself a little for what she was saying, but it was the results that mattered.

“Sir Xerarch is going to lead us in a hymn, to focus our hearts and to drive out fear!” she called out, then looked expectantly at the young Knight. She lowered her voice. “And keep singing until the snow starts to melt. Then, get out of here and head to the Shield of the Heavens.” She had to hope the Adamant fortress was safer.

Their eyes met. Emberglow saw fear, distrust, terror. And then, a spark of hope.

“O-okay. Everypony, join me in Saint Twilight’s Shine, Hold Back the Night.”

Xerarch was no soloist, but his wavering, off-key voice seemed to fill the atrium for the first few words. Then, others joined in. Wind howled through the open door, but singing Mystics and civilians moved to close it. Emberglow met his eyes one last time, before slipping into the crowd.

He did not follow her.

By the time she made the stairs that would lead to the offices, he was leading the impromptu hymn with one hoof, completely off the beat.

Nopony seemed to notice as they huddled together.

“At least you’ll have a chance,” Emberglow whispered as she headed up the stairs. Once on the landing, and out of view of the crowd in the atrium, she quickly re-cast her tracking spell.

Blue flooded her blind eye again, pulsing so much stronger than before. Rarity was here. Close. Above.

Steadfast’s office seemed a good enough place to start.

The peace she had managed, was only a temporary peace. The atrium had been a haven in the madness that was descending on the Star Shine building. As she passed the landing of the second floor she could see the effects of violence. Madponies had torn into offices, breaking down doors, scoring the walls with blades, tearing apart furniture. Broken windows allowed the wind to seep in, and hoarfrost and drifting snow were collecting on every surface.

She tried to ignore the bodies.

It was easier than it should have been; a thought that caused a pang of guilt, accompanied by the murmur of bloodshed on the wind. It should not have been so easy to step over the still, cold forms of the fallen as she continued up the stairs to the third floor.

Up here, it was just as bad. Most ponies had succumbed to the voices of violence, and had likely either fled or died. Emberglow’s heart pounded with terror as she forced herself down the now-unfamiliar hallway. Each step brought her closer to Steadfast’s old office. Each pulse of blue light in her blind eye told her she was getting closer, ever closer, to her goal.

But if Rarity was being held here, where were her guards? Surely she wouldn’t have been left alone?

The door to Steadfast’s office had been knocked open by something, blasted off its hinges. Emberglow listened at the door long enough to hear…breathing.

Somepony inside was alive.

Eagerness defeated caution. Emberglow rushed through the door, past the empty secretary station and the bloodstain on the desk, and into Steadfast’s office.

She froze.

failed

too slow

we win

“No…” she moaned.

She had heard breathing. Rarity was alive, unconscious, on the floor of Steadfast’s office, amidst the debris of his long inquisitorial career. She ignored broken wood and glass as she moved forward, voices rushing in as despair crushed all of the hope which had buoyed her before. All her confidence, all her faith, gone in a flash.

Rarity was alive.

But on her forehead, where her horn had once stood, was nothing more than a smooth severed stump.

“Good. You made it. I knew she would draw you in.”

She had never heard Steadfast come in.

“Come with me. There’s little time.”

Author's Note:

Acknowledgement time!

Gordon Mountaincrest belongs to gmoyes
Blast belongs to DnDBrony
Vex Blackwater and Precious Soliloquy belong to Randimaxis.

Thank you all for sharing in my world!

Comments

[Randimaxis]

Thank you for having us, apple; we're grateful you enjoy us enough to add us to your labor of love.

Excelsior, my friend. }:D

[BirdsBooksBrownies]

She's right, beyond the canonical "friendship power" bit, the Windigos don't make any sense, biologically speaking. This is where fan content can fill in the gaps. Are they spirits of old? Are they harbingers of doom? Are they a mad alicorn's escaped experiment?

The heartfelt speech was well written.

---

Just had a sudden thought, given the circumstances/environment, if you had a small company of Mystics or Adamant cross the breach ordained by their superiors and make peace with the Discordant you could have a scene similar to the legendary Christmas Truce of 1914. Which would be amazing.

[Farenth Vega]

With his city and even very headquarters actively descending into chaos, madness, and uncontrollable violence Steadfast has to see the bigger picture here... right? The twist at the end was a heavy one for sure, I fully expect things to somehow still end in sunshine and rainbows though. Does becoming the element of magic fix horns? Looking forward to more!

[KMCA]

11498980
if becoming an Alicorn was enough to return Twilight from being vaporized then all that has to happen is Rarity needs to ascend... but I could easily see her being dead.

[Nephilinae]

Oh wow
Ive never seen such a “maybe you’ll live.” To a “welp your dead” happen so quick

Anyway ember glow, kill him
Kill him now

[Nothingo]

"Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that." - Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

Also, I'm hoping against hope that there is a way to save Rarity.

[PropMaster]

Time for a Magical Mystery Cure...

[LauraLeBold]

Aww man I was looking forward to a happy ending with them, but now Rarity is going to join Puddle Jumper in a two chapter Fridging streak. I bet we can keep the combo going. My bet is we see Heartwing bite from Terminus' pov.
Jk I love this story best epic I read since FOE-PH.

[Thranx]

But on her forehead, where her horn had once stood, was nothing more than a smooth severed stump.

Dang it, nothing short of a magical mystery cure can fix her.

[Olivine Ellva]

But on her forehead, where her horn had once stood, was nothing more than a smooth severed stump.

Saw this coming. For a time, I was expecting Steadfast to make it a very public affair to make an example of the "false saint". But with the city in the state it's in, it's clear that wasn't going to happen.

[gmoyes]

And here's the other side of Gordon. The one who truly believes in the magic of friendship. The Blessed Bird. Thanks for doing him justice, Zombi, I could never write this well. Oh boy, to have your character's friendship speeches actually matter and work is certainly an honor.

And it is awesome to see Embergrow put it into practice. Even if she didn't hear it herself, many others across the Crystal Empire did. But she needs to keep faith. Harmony will prevail.

Also, it's fun to see Vex doing shenanigans. Gordon had a problem in the RP were there was a 50/50 chance of when he met someone friendly, they were actually Vex in disguise and he couldn't tell if someone was new friend or an old one until Vex directly revealed himself. That did not help his paranoia about living in a Diarchy town lol.

[FOXTrot2]

I... Was not expecting that

[Celysus]

...please say sike

[GuardianofRoin]

Ember, I know you made that oath not to kill, but I think Steadfast just earned an exception.

[TheKaiser]

An unfortunate, but not entirely unexpected outcome in this chapter, given the world that you have created. I can think of multiple ways that things could go from this point. But I will keep those speculations to myself as to not write an overlong and ponderous comment.

I will eagerly await the next update.

[Bandy]

YOU CAN'T KEEP DOING THIS TO ME AP

(But do go on)

[theblackwolf]

Uff things look grim. But, they don't know their history, and i think they're about to repeat it.

[Bones_]

NO

[sykko]

Welp, Steadfast just screwed the pooch!

[Paxwing]

I'm mighty late to reading this but amazing work with this chapter, Apple! I haven't gotten goosebumps from reading in a very long time.

[SirCarrot]

Well shoot, I don’t think she will ever be happy at this rate.

[Ninjuto]

I love stories that can make me do an audible gasp out loud like that cliffhanger just did