The Ghost of Coltistrano: Phantom Eulogy

by EthanClark

Chapter 19: “We’re all taking a chance tonight.”

From where he sat, Canterlot was a sea of little lights and gentle streams of torches, carried by ponies and soldiers whose armor glimmered like failing embers traveling their well-worn routes. Nighttime sent the city into a stillness, a solace he lacked in the day. From dodging soldiers to his own waking nightmares, the proper stallion yearned for the silence and solitude of his own home, and the blanket of stars above only added that extra bit of security. A distraction from the truth. His hoof traveled from a hovering tea cup to his breast pocket and produced a pocket watch. Eleven o’five was the time, and the unicorn gave a long huff as he returned to the shining show of lights dancing beyond his window. They were his only light, hidden by the darkness of a room dressed with fineries and objects of class. Comforts, hardly comforting their owner as he drew a tepid sip from the tea.

Fancy Pants allowed his eyes to travel to his side. Along the mantle of an impressive fireplace rested a picture, framed in ivory, of a mare whose gentle smile squeezed Fancy’s throat as he stared, stifling his breath. Shuddering, he pulled away, instead downing the rest of his lukewarm beverage. Upon standing he pressed his hooves into the flesh above his hips and pushed, allowing a cascade of pops to announce the return of his posture before slowly strolling away from the haunting picture and into the dark hallways of his home. Paintings to his left greeted him with passive smiles and drowned colors, washed in the lights of Canterlot from the large windows to his right, and Fancy sluggishly peered out again as he walked. Every now and then, he found pale eyes. Such haunting images followed him into the lobby, and he cupped his head in his hoof as if his memory weighed against his neck. He remembered the screams. He remembered his colleagues. He remembered her.

But something rescued him from the demons of his mind. Beyond the darkened lobby, down a branching hallway, came the flicker of lights he could not recall. A monocle was pulled from his pocket and placed over his eye, renewed vision encouraging him to take his first steps towards the unknown glow. Along this hallway stood suits of armor. As the glow grew, so too did the shadows of these suits along the walls, almost moving as Fancy creeped closer, gut tensed and blood pumping in his skull, until at last he arrived at the threshold to a large den. Crackling flame echoed within. As he clung to the shadowed corner he took a long and silent breath to calm his trembling limbs, but when he finally crossed into the light he was greeted with far more than his fears expected.

Five figures, sprawled across the lush furniture, enjoying the freshly lit fire. Two Fancy recognized as a pair of unicorn mares, while two more he learned to fear on reputation, alone, bat ponies who glared at him from across the room, but the presence of the fifth was all it took to bring a wash of relief across his nerve-wracked body as he released a stuttering sigh.

“How long have you been sitting there?” Fancy asked, looking to the pony in black.

“Long enough to know your food sucks.”

A sixth figure emerged from the other side of the room. The gryphon held in her claws a collection of treats and snacks Fancy recognized immediately, slowly eating from the assortment with little consideration for their original owner. The pony in black stood.

“Abby informed us your private airport was lightly guarded. I hope we aren’t putting you at risk.”

“No, no. Truth be told, I feel more safe now than ever, except for that fellow, there.” Fancy pointed to Glint, resting on a vibrant red loveseat with Abby.

“Glint’s proven to be useful, and I know you already trust Abby. What’s good enough for her is good enough for us.”

“Yes, well, what strange days these are.” Fancy stumbled over to a large armchair beside the fireplace, falling into it. “Forgive me, Ghost, I’m relieved you’ve come… and are alive.”

“My resurrection will mean nothing if we fail to find Shield Wall and Chrysalis.”

Fancy adjusted his monocle for clarity, a wide grin spreading cheek to cheek. “But it makes this all the sweeter. To think, Shield Wall’s nemesis, the very pony he sacrificed so much to destroy, returned from the grip of death itself to end him, instead. It’s… well, it’s marvelous. Irony in its most vengeful form.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re enjoying this.”

“Then you don’t, for you have no idea how long I’ve yearned for a chance to finally make things right. I trust Miss Glow has told you the story, yes? Of how Canterlot fell?”

“And how Shield is responsible.”

“Then we’re in agreement,” Fancy sighed. “Something needs to be done, and soon, otherwise the whole of Canterlot will be at risk, and Equestria. Have you any information we can use?”

“I have my own source in town, I just need to catch up with her.”

“Yes… I remember her from when Aristo visited me earlier. The changeling traitor. Miss Glow’s former associate.”

Abby squirmed in her seat under the pressure of Fancy’s stare, but the Ghost’s firm tone pulled the unwanted attention back to him. “Alate has done enough to prove she’s at least committed to stopping Shield Wall. She’s the reason I’m here, and if there’s anything we can use against Chrysalis and her forces, Alate will know.”

“You have such strange friends, but I’m hardly one to talk,” he chuckled somberly. “Dare I even ask about your plans? If there’s something I can do to help you need only ask.”

“We were hoping you’d have some information about the palace,” Rarity spoke up. “From what we can tell, all of Chrysalis’ operations focus there, but without any knowledge of her forces we can’t hope to overthrow her.”

“And her hive,” Glint declared.

“Hive?” Fancy’s question came with a stutter, a faltering expression that beckoned Glint to continue.

“The vice general spoke about a new hive Chrysalis is building within the city. It’s large, fortified, and hidden in the heart of the palace: the throne room. That’s where the princesses are being held.”

“This is nightmarish news, but I’m sorry. The palace is the finest fortress in the region. To take it yourselves, with the queen opposing you, would be suicide.”

“We don’t need to.” The Ghost’s words drew all eyes to him.

“What do you mean, darling?”

“The princesses are being held in the throne room, that means we cut a path to them at any cost, even fighting Chrysalis herself. Freeing them is our top priority until reinforcements arrive.”

Rarity bit her lip with a concerned tension in her brow. “Love, please, that would mean fighting dozens, maybe hundreds on our own.”

“Oh, heck yeah,” Gilda blurted out. “I’m down for it, let’s hit ‘em good. I’ve got the perfect stick for beating piñatas like them.”

“Your friend is quite colorful,” Fancy said, fighting to hide a slight tremble in his voice. “But you’ve forgotten one key element. Have you any idea where Shield Wall may be?”

“I do.”

Fancy leapt from his chair at the sudden intrusive voice. From the entrance stepped Alate, still wreathed in her cloak and drawing all eyes to her, except for Abby. The two shared a quick glance before the changeling turned her head and approached the Ghost.

“What have you found?” The Ghost asked.

“Shield’s been seen leaving the Auberge, summoned by Chrysalis. If we hurry we can intercept him before he leaves the palace.”

“You expect us to trust you?” Glint sat forward, a hoof grazing Abby’s as he shot daggers towards Alate.

“No more than you, commander. We’re all taking a chance tonight.”

“Enough,” the Ghost ordered. “If Shield is in the palace then this is our chance. Gilda, Rarity, we’ll head out in ten minutes. We’ll stay in contact through the sending stones once we’re there.”

Alate snapped her attention to the Ghost. “You aren’t leaving me out of this. Shield Wall is mine.”

“Not until we’re finished with him. Once he’s been captured then you can have your fill.” He turned back to the group, speaking softly to Abby. “We’ll need you to join Fancy and reach his contacts in the Investigations Bureau, get whatever help from the EUP you can. If we can’t make it, they’ll be able to contain the situation once we free the princesses.”

“We’ll get it done, I promise.” Abby gave him a warm smile as the Ghost turned his gaze to the expectant bat pony beside him.

“Kindle, I’m trusting you to protect them. Lead the EUP to capture any changelings fleeing from the palace.”

“You got it, Glint and I won’t let you down… right?”

Glint was silent as Kindle waited for his answer, allowing a firm nod to speak for him as Fancy raised a hoof to interject. “Then… may I ask a favor? The day the princesses were overthrown, Shield took someone of mine. My darling Fleur was captured, and I haven’t the slightest where she’s gone. Will you find her for me?”

Rarity gasped, one hoof shooting to her mouth and the other grasping the Ghost’s, who caressed it and returned Fancy’s request. “We will.”

“Then you are all welcome to stay here. The soldiers hardly come by here, and there is ample room for you all. This is the second time I owe you, isn’t it, Ghost?”

He smirked, watching as Fancy stood from his chair and cordially directed the room’s occupants towards the main lobby, but Rarity stayed behind, her hoof still on his. Once the others were gone and the crackling of the fire was their only companion, Rarity turned to the Ghost with a solemn look on her face, gently pulling back his mask. Firelight danced across them. After a few moments of silence, Silver placed a gloved hoof to her cheek, listening to the gentle sigh elicited from his touch.

“This is dangerous,” she finally said.

“Isn’t it always?”

“Don’t joke. This is different. Fighting Shield in Ponyville is one thing, where everyone is rallied against him, but here we’re outnumbered, and the last time he caught you off guard he…” Breath hitched in her throat, and her vision spiraled downwards as she fell into his chest.

“I’m scared too, Rarity,” Silver whispered. “But I don’t see a better way.”

“I don’t want you to go alone. If he has something planned, or set a trap, or even is just sitting back waiting for you, I need to know you’ll be safe, okay? Please, for my sake, don’t be a hero this time.”

“As you wish,” he said, kissing her cheek. “And to think, I was ready to swoop down and rescue you once more from his devious designs.”

“I said don’t joke,” Rarity muttered through the curling corners of her mouth.

“The elegant and illustrious Lady Rarity, cornered by cretins of such cancerous countenance.”

“Oh, for Celestia’s sake.”

“Bereft of hope, yet bolstered in spirit, to see such blighted brigands beset upon by billowing binds of shade. Her heart would quiver as he laid his eyes upon her.”

“You enjoy this far too much,” she giggled, blushing hard and pushing Silver’s smiling face away.

“For this shadowy sentinel would silence any sinister snake sent to sunder her search-”

Silver’s lips were sealed shut by a firm kiss, feeling the vibrations of Rarity’s strained laughter within his skull as he fell into her. Once they both threatened to fall limp against the sofa she pulled away. “You’re completely incorrigible.”

“But you like incorrigible, don’t you?”

Gentle hooves stroked his mane, and slowly Silver indulged in her touch, allowing his eyes to flutter closed as she spoke. “At least you have a plan.”

“I knew you’d be proud of me.” His lips gently struck hers as he stood, offering his hoof to help her rise. “One of these days, I’ll convince you I’m not completely crazy.”

“Only if this plan involves some actual forethought. We’ve not been here for an hour, and you’re already prepared to fly off into the night like the lovable maniac you are. You don’t even fully know what we’re up against.”

“No, I don’t,” Silver hummed. “But when has that ever stopped me?”

—

Cold crept up his neck. Street lamps along the empty roads, the city’s veins, served as his only companions. Heavy hoofsteps landed upon well kept cobblestone and echoed into the night, down dark and solemn alleyways and along empty windows. Canterlot, the shining jewel of Equestria, was dead silent. With a huff he released a puff of hot breath. It danced along the limits of his vision and twirled with the soft breeze until it, like the memory of bustling nightlife, was swallowed by the void. He shivered again. With a firm snap of his hooves he pulled the collar of his long coat around the back of his head, catching his gray mane along with it.

Shield Wall trotted alone through the streets of Canterlot. No escort, no contingent of soldiers, only the long trek from the Auberge to the one building peeking almost as high as the mountain the city rested on. Canterlot Castle. On the outside it was as he remembered, earlescent towers and flowing standards along its outer walls bearing the symbol of the Twin Sisters, a crest Shield dryly scoffed at. Even at night, the palace’s lights twinkled like the tapestry of stars it stood before, cheap comforts to the ponies indoors for curfew while the streets were populated by soldiers. With every new street he passed, Shield Wall found new shapes floating in the darkness following him, stalking him. Steadily, he walked past, never so much as turning his head, but allowing himself a deep breath of the crisp mountain air, relishing the freedom to merely walk about his home city without fear.

But he was in fear. Prickling chills shot up his spine at the sight of moving shadows, creeping phantoms at the corner of his vision as he passed empty street corners and crossed darkened alleyways. The only warmth in his body was the raging pumps of blood to his brain lifting his perceptions to wild levels. Everywhere were shadows, everywhere was him. The image of a blood soaked face struck him, framed by fire, a haunting gaze from within his own mind Shield was powerless to escape, and he could feel it dig into his very soul as his hooves quickened their pace to the nearest streetlamp, its light his salvation. An island of safety amongst a sea of darkness. A sea he cast him to so long ago.

The palace was growing in the distance, coming closer with each slow, timid step he took. He knew the horrors that lay within. Faces peered out from hidden alleyways, and Shield could almost make out the hints of toothy smirks on their faces, their soft chuckles following him as Shield crossed the threshold into the palace, but he was unphased. Their crooked smiles paled in comparison to the memory of him, towering over him in the freezing rain. Shield could still hear his laughter.

Pristine floors, immaculate architecture, and the wafting scent of lavender assaulted him with a wash of satisfaction he had long forgotten, feeling the lightness in his chest grow when he stepped deeper into the lobby. Adventurous hooves moved on their own through the hallways of the palace. Just beyond the lobby stood the grand staircase leading up to two towering doors Shield held his gaze upon, pressing against them to reveal a large, brilliantly polished ballroom. He lingered for a moment, staring up towards the chandelier before moving up one of the flanking staircases. Then, he came to a long, gilded hallway facing west.

Shield diverted for only a moment to venture deeper down the hallway. The path leading to the palace’s West Wing was a venture carved into his mind like a scar, and his hooves traced the well worn pathways of his mind to carry him into a far less regal section of the castle. Trophy cases and murals lined the comparatively plain walls, and farther down Shield could see them. Dozens of pony-high silhouettes, each with their own plaque, painted along the hallway as final vestiges of fallen soldiers, many of whose names Shield began to mutter silently to himself, until his reminiscence lured him to one silhouette that gripped him with its presence.

Sergeant Silver Spade, 3rd Battalion, 5th Regiment. Betrayed in life, avenged in death.

His jaw clenched as he read the plaque again and again, the words burning themselves into his mind like a hot brand, a searing insult to his already damaged pride. A click in the darkness made him leap. He clutched his chest, feeling for the cursed horn hidden away in his coat and scanning the shadows for movement of any kind. His vision shot to the silhouette. He lingered on it for some time, raising a trembling hoof to slowly reach out and touch the cool surface of the wall. The familiar shadow was still, lifeless. Nevertheless, he backed away and returned to the entrance of the West Wing, still locked onto the silhouette before summoning the courage to turn himself towards his long avoided destination.

Returning to the stairs, following them up to their peak, Shield Wall found himself before the entrance to the palace’s throne room. A quick look told him the door was locked, and with slow movements he pressed his ear to the smooth surface of the door. Something, many things, chittered away inside. He sighed. Whatever fear Shield carried with him was left behind in the West Wing with the haunting memories of a life long past, but he knew what devilry lurked behind the expertly crafted wooden doors, the only barrier between him and her. Placing a hoof to the outline of the horn in his coat once more Shield steadied himself before giving three long, forceful knocks to the door, his brow firm as the scraping of metal announced his entrance, pushing past the doors into a living, breathing nightmare.

Darkness. Stagnant air was filled with a sticky humidity, and the lingering aromas wafting towards Shield’s already recoiling muzzle, stinging his eyes. As he stepped deeper into the throne room light from the entrance cast itself into the void, and along the walls Shield could see the full extent of new structures, black and viscous, jutting up towards the ceiling like spires of slick tar and covering the formerly spotless stained glass windows. Only small pieces could still be seen at the highest point, a necessary to illuminate the tomb he entered. With each step his hoof sank, squelching as he walked.

But something followed him as he traveled deeper. Echos of clicking reverberated in the blackened hall and encircled him. His golden eyes shot around the room, over his shoulder and across the organic floor he had yet to cross, until the staccato chorus reached its apex and Shield dared to send his vision upwards, revealing the writhing, slithering mural above. Bodies crawled over each other, hissing and chittering. Dozens of changelings moved in tandem and across the tarnished ceiling, fang filled mouths sputtering with ichor for the climbing spires of black as mortar for their colossal constructs. Pale eyes would occasionally look at him from above and snarl before returning to work. Shield, however, gave no such response. Instead, he braved a few more steps before a flash of green shone out from the darkest depths of the throne room, and what greeted Shield froze him solid.

Queen Chrysalis sat upon one of the dual thrones, holding her head high and chittering to the guards beside her. He gave no signs of movement, save for the subtle rise and fall of his chest against his dripping binds of changeling ichor holding him against the other throne. Beside her stood two others, one who Shield recognized as Lighthoof without his disguise, and the other a towering mass of chitin with purple fringe. Chrysalis’ eyes shifted to her guest.

“So, my little pet finally comes down from his ivory tower,” she snarked. “I trust you have useful news, this time?”

Chrysalis tapped her hoof firmly against the throne, the only solid surface left, and her expression twisted from playful to punitive. “Well?”

Shield’s posture strengthened as he turned to face the queen. “I thought it would behoove you to know the situation in Ponyville has become… uncontainable.”

“Speak plain, pet.”

“The citizenry has resisted. My agent in the city has been without contact, and your soldiers are routed, no doubt fleeing the city as we speak, or worse.”

“And from what Lighthoof has told me, the loss of the city is your doing,” she hissed, earning a cocked eyebrow from Shield.

“Perhaps he failed to mention he had become lax in his patrols of the city, allowing the very same enemy agents I informed you of months ago to slip by undetected. Complacency is as deadly as any toxin, your highness.”

Shield’s last words leaked from between his lips like venom, with bite enough to turn the irritated Chrysalis into a fuming blur of fangs and magic, hurling herself towards the stoic unicorn. As she slammed her hooves down before him and bathed him in the glow of her power, Shield stood firm, a cold stare his only response.

“They were organized!”

“They were a repairable nuisance.”

“My drones were led into a trap by your agent.”

“My agent, unlike the whole of your, quote-unquote, army, followed my orders to find the Ghost’s remaining allies. Lighthoof’s idiocy is his own undoing.”

“You lie!” Chrysalis seethed, staring down the apathetic unicorn. “My drones have watched you closely, Shield Wall, and given the sorry state you’ve returned to the city in, there’s more you aren’t telling, isn’t there?”

“Save the fact I am perpetually surrounded by incompetence.”

“Someone stopped you!”

Shield’s stance remained firm, but his words were forced back into his throat as Chrysalis began to circle him with a twisted grin. “Sulcus is my finest tracker. For weeks, he and his soldiers have been pursued by something in the eastern forests. A pony, and a changeling traitor. Then, my drones stationed within the Auberge reported a break in. A pony, and a changeling, fighting through the drones I selected to keep you imprisoned in your own tower, and then… vanishing.”

“I am not to blame for the lack of discipline in your ranks.”

“No, the scum Darrox is, but you are responsible for the traitor’s companion. The same pony you came to me, begged me, to help you kill. The one you created.” Shield’s eyes held firm in front of him as Chrysalis closed in, her fangs dripping hot ichor onto his coat.

“The Ghost is alive.”

Chittering shapes writhing along the walls soon fell still. Lighthoof looked on with disdain, still nursing his bruised and chipped chitin, while Sulcus inhaled sharply at the name, puffing his chest with a wicked scowl. Shield strained to hold his composure as Chrysalis’ scalding hot breath fell upon him with each word.

“Lighthoof told me everything,” she continued, standing to her full, towering height. “You treat my kind as vermin, yet you can’t even manage to kill a single, little pony. The very reason you fell into my service and you failed!”

“You act as if-”

“Do not speak. Tools don’t speak, they are cast aside when they wear, and you have shown just how dull you’ve become. Normally, I would simply kill you where you stand, but as far as I’m concerned our ‘business arrangement’, as you put it, has concluded. It’s a pity you have such little love to give, but now...”

Suddenly, the walls illuminated with a thousand pale eyes, all glaring at the unicorn standing in the center of the blackened room. Lighthoof shot him a nasty grin, while Chrysalis slowly returned to her seat on the stolen throne and watched the tide slowly close in around their prey. Her smile was wide and wicked, with sharp fangs that chattered with her laughter. Shield, however, stood still. Even beneath languid lids, his golden eyes were sharp as they traveled the room, counting the number of changelings slowly emerging from the darkness, limbs firm where they stood and the subtle tingle of power rising through his horn.

“Concluded, you say?”

Her laughter was silenced by a thin, golden bolt. Too fast, too bright, and far too powerful for Lighthoof’s damaged chitin to resist as it bore through his head and dug into the far wall with the force to shatter the stone. The body slumped to the floor and the whole room fell silent. He grinned.

“Damn bug.”

From every corner, from every shadow, arose the ear piercing screech of every changeling in the room, led in concert by Chrysalis’ own thunderous cry, her hoof directing her swarm towards the lone, defenseless prey. Wings of pale tissue soared like buzzing wasps in a whirlwind around him. Sulcus unleashed his terrible roar, thrumming with a staccato hiss. Shield Wall stood firm.

“Kill him! Leave his bones as a warning!”

But when the swarm finally descended they crashed against the spot Shield once stood, the unicorn lunging with his forelegs raised through the cloud of chitin. Sulcus moved to intercept him as he rolled, raising his hoof to slam onto Shield, but instead the hoof only connected with the glimmering barrier Shield projected, and like a swarm of its own it spread to Sulcus’ foreleg. The hulking changeling writhed under its power, flexing to resist the bone-shattering leverage the spell now possessed. Instead, he howled for his allies.

Shield spun on his back hoof and began to fire his blinding volley of magic into the swarm. Some fell to the floor, many more were fended off, and in the rush of power flowing through his horn Shield unleashed a deep, violent roar, his restraints shattered like the chitin of his fallen enemies. Before Sulcus could recover and strike, Shield was primed to catch the limb rocketing towards him.

“By the hive, I’ll see you ground into paste!”

“Do not address your betters, filth!”

Shield, with a burst of agility, hoisted his hindlegs upwards and around Sulcus’ neck. Then, he began to pummel. Blow after blow landed against Sulcus’ defenseless face, around the jaw and behind the skull, everywhere Shield’s decades of experience told him hurt the most. In a desperate effort he slammed the unicorn onto the ground, and with a grunt Sulcus ripped the pony from him and cast him aside.

Shield hobbled to his hooves, dazed. Dozens of changelings began to charge him one row at a time. Combining precise bolts of magic and firm strikes to keep as many at bay as possible. Shield became a machine, muscles twitching and hurling his limbs in all the ways they remembered, and each blow struck harder than the last as he continued his sick onslaught. Two rushed him, desperate to silence their wild enemy. A foreleg found itself around one’s neck and twisted, granting Shield a new weapon to manipulate with his magic as he hurled one changeling into another, with two more charging from above. He snagged one from the air and threw his hind leg into the other’s throat. With his new hostage, his aura twisted and snapped the horn from the changeling’s head before hurling it into the eye of another in the crowd. Each fallen foe added more cover from incoming fire.

“I warned you! You all know what I am, and you still seek to cross me. Me!” With one under his foreleg, Shield fired a bolt through the chest of a charging changeling. “Your fetid dynasty ends here, witch. Your kind will be a memory!”

He charged. Thundering hooves slammed through the crowd, and not even the towering Sulcus could hope to deter his pace. Then, Chrysalis took a deep breath. As she released, so too did a fearsome trail of power, verdant and vile, crashing against the already failing barrier protecting Shield. He dug in, fighting to resist. Each second that passed allowed Chrysalis’ own cackle to ring through the throne room and summon the remaining changelings to her side. Shield felt his knees hit the floor. His trembling hoof slowly reached into his coat.

Flame spit forth from the jagged horn he produced, matching the queen’s own power with a torrent of violet magic. The heat of their struggle set even Sulcus back a step. While Shield strained to concentrate, funneling the final vestiges of his power through the cursed horn, Chrysalis held her position beside the throne, unmoved by even the jagged lighting their clash created as it struck the walls.

“Trouble, pet? Not enough bite to back up the bark?” While Chrysalis and her minions laughed, Shield grit his teeth.

With a roar and strobing magics from his horn his beam began to gain ground, murdering Chrysalis’ jubilance. She pushed back, eeking more power into her beam that was once more matched by Shield’s violent outburst, but the queen simply dug in, flared her wings, and with a screech her entire form began to twist and ripple, contorting her every facet in a final, bestial push that sent Shield Wall flying through the ichor-built walls around the windows. Hard stone met his body as he bounced along the palace’s roofs, clinging to one of the buttresses.

Desperate exertions pulled him from the ledge, placing him face to face with the pale eyes of drones emerging from the shattered window. First two, then twelve. Panting, Shield hobbled on his hooves and limply raised the horn to them, his vision blurring from the throbbing in his skull. Whatever line existed between hissing and laughter blurred with each step his chitin-covered predators advanced. Then the laughter grew darker. Shield froze.

The changelings whipped around to the image of a flanking tower. At the top sat the ebon shape, mocking them. They snarled as they stepped into formation, but their once sturdy hooves buckled when the shadow grew three times its size, spreading its dark tendrils into fluttering stretches of black carrying it on the wind, landing silently in front of the wounded unicorn. Hissing continued, weakly, smothered with each passing second when the shade captured them in its gaze.

“He’s mine.”

Comments

[Tattered Rags]

I am super enjoying the ramp up to the climax. There's such great description and characterization at play.