> Angel of Fire
>  by memphisgurl
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> The Punisher
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Pick up your heels, Scootaloo!" Mr. Harper barked from the covered sideline bleachers. I glared at him in mutinous silence as I jogged past - half frozen and soaked to the bone. 

Once, just once, I wanted to be the one dishing out the discipline to give Harper a taste of his own daily torture. I wished I had the power to rip the roof right off the bleachers, allowing him to experience firsthand how it felt to get blasted by a torrent of rain and mud. Just the thought of him covered in ooze made me all warm and tingly inside. 

Too bad I never got what I wished for. 

Not only was he the high school's gym teacher, Mr. Harper was also the principal, as well as a former Royal Guard. Nicknamed the Punisher he made...uh, more like he forced all first year students to run the mile through the pouring rain for basically two reasons. First, because he wanted to show us who was boss. As if we needed reminding. And second, because torturing his students with the lame Ponyville weather at the beginning of each new school year was somehow supposed to build character, while helping to improve our attitudes. 

Personally, I disagreed. Running in near freezing temperatures through the pouring rain didn't do a thing for my crappy attitude. It just made me cold, wet, and extremely prone to bad behavior. 

On the last lap around the track I led the pack, far ahead of my classmates, but it wasn't enough for Harper. Rounding the final turn, I heard him bellowing his disapproval for my so-called poor performance. 

"C'mon, Darlin'. You can do better than that. Dig deep, Scootaloo!"

Nobody likes a monkey on their back. Especially me. I needed to fix that. So I decided to do just what he said. 

I dug deep. 

Gritting my teeth, I switched to an outside lane on my right and headed straight towards a lake-sized mud puddle threatening to flood the bleachers right where Harper had perched himself, so conveniently sheltered from the storm. 

Anger spiking, I picked up speed as I approached. The instant my hoof hit the water a fierce heat surrounded me, drawing pent-up energy from deep down inside me like a bomb ready to go off. The wimpy splash I'd intended to cause somehow morphed into an explosion; the effect reminding me of a stone tossed in water so that the energy spilled out in ripples creating a shock wave. 

Only it didn't stop there. 

A low bass drop made my ears pop as the rain soaked ground shook violently under my hooves. Scrambling back to the track, I had to keep on running just to stay ahead of the earth shattering energy biting at my heels like a heat seeking missile locked on target. 

Oblivious to the destructive power heading his way, Harper only seemed to care that is veered off course. Fumbling for the shiny silver whistle he always wore around his neck, he managed to blow it directly in my ear as I shot past the finish line like a bullet. 

The expanding blast reduced Harper's beloved shelter to a pile of rubble within seconds, along with at least thirty rows of bleachers, as if purposely aimed. 

Bulls-eye!

Heart slamming furiously against my ribcage, I skidded to an abrupt halt and spun around in the hope of catching even a tiny glimpse of his reaction. 

I wasn't disappointed. 

The assault on my hearing was a small price to pay for the pleasure of watching his face, which at first appeared to be a mixture of half-embarrassment, half-shock, morph into an extremely satisfying look of pure rage as the rest of the class approaching the scene took turns jockeying for position to gawk at Harper. 

Wearing his once-white workout suit, now dripping wet and covered with muck, Harper climbed out of the wreckage apparently unharmed. Spluttering with fury, he stomped his hooves over and over again until his face was nearly as purple as my hair, before be finally turned around and skulked silently away. 

I grinned triumphantly. Pissing off the Punisher? Priceless!

That was the first time, and also the last time, Harper ever called me Darlin'. 

Unfortunately, my little victory party had to be cut short when an ever increasing tide of whisperer a and gossip mongers completely surrounded me. Finally catching up, I tasted my classmates' fear like something metallic on my tongue. The looks on their faces could only be described as pure horror. Almost as if they thought...no, scratch that. More like they knew I had caused all the carnage, but nobody wanted to be the first to confront me about it. 

Not that I blamed them, of course.  

Lately trouble had a way of following me everywhere I went. Like that time last week when one of the senior students pissed me off and my resulting outburst seemed to be responsible for setting off the entire indoor sprinkler system. The whole school had to be evacuated until it dried out. Then there was that time the week before when the fire alarms kept going off every time I entered a classroom. Got sent home for that one like it was somehow my fault. And then there was also that time during the very beginning of school when the cafeteria caught on fire at the exact moment when I realized the kitchen had run out of pizza on Pizza Tuesday. Yes, on one hoof, the fact that the school was going up in flames did shock me. And everybody else for that matter. But, seriously! Who runs out of pizza on Pizza Tuesday? The entire cafeteria had to be completely gutted due to extensive smoke and fire damage. 

I tried to look on the bright side. Long overdue renovations finally moved that part of the ancient school into the world of modern Equestria, which also ended up improving the terrible cafeteria food. So without admitting any blame, I figured it was a win, win. 

I shook my head slowly back and forth as I surveyed the scene at the track. This was by far the biggest event yet to happen since school had started last month. I had a hard time wrapping my brain around the fact that is pretty much just imagined exactly what ended up happening. But that didn't make it my fault, did it? Then again, the devastation to Harper's favorite perch turned out better than anything I could've wished for. 

Way better.

Pulse still galloping in my throat, I swallowed hard. Or attempted to anyway. My classmates weren't the only ones freaked out by the recent series of unfortunate events. Especially since it was my life that was being held hostage for some unknown reason. 

Thankfully no longer feeling like I was about to spontaneously combust inside my track uniform, my gaze returned to all the frowns faces staring me down like some kind of defective being. I didn't like it. Not one little bit. I had a bad habit of blushing so easily it was ridiculous. Now being no different as the tell-tale sign of embarrassment blazed a bright, crimson path across my face. Due to my unfortunate, fruit punch cheeks I always made it a point to never do anything out of the ordinary or stand out. Or to make my classmates see me. 

Until now. 

As much as I hated attention, I hated standing in the rain even more. Unfortunately, since everypony had been scared stupid, it became obvious to me that I was going to have to make the first move. Besides, I'd already reached my saturation point for one day. 

I gave a weak salute and stepped forward. The brief moment spooked everypony, making them jump back. On the plus side the collective motion of the crowd created a hole, which made for a convenient escape route. Suppressing a smile, I darted through the opening and walked briskly across the flooded hoofball field, dodging pieces of debris as I carefully made my way back to school. Halfway there, I glanced back over my shoulder for a momentary reprise from the rain - now coming down sideways. I couldn't help but notice my classmates as they cautiously followed all huddled together; a mass of hooves and legs like a giant tarantula crawling through the storm. 

I turned back around and sniffed the damp air, holding it at the back of my throat. At that moment I realized I didn't just taste their fear, I smelled it too - assaulting my nostrils like vinegar. I didn't know how or why I had these strange abilities. Just that I did. 

Far off in the distance I heard sirens signaling the approach of the local guards. The blare of a horn pierced the frigid air announcing that a detachment was on its way. Great, just great. Hanging my head, I had no doubt that yet another investigation would surely follow all the drama, and once again every hoof would be pointed at me. 

Irritated as hell, I finally reached my destination and slammed open the door. After getting blasted by the arctic temperatures from outside, the mares' locker room felt like a swamp. Smelled like one too. I peeled off my own muddy uniform and went to enjoy a steamy, hot shower. The hotter the better in my book. 

Once finished and toweled off I didn't bother messing with my mane other than to half-heartedly drag a comb through it once. Not that it mattered much. My hair couldn't be tamed. Pulling apart chin-length bangs forever hanging I my face like a soggy curtain, I prepared to darken in my eyes even though prettifying myself like all the other mares in school was kind of pointless. Especially when the only makeup I ever wore to keep ponies away was heavy black eyeshadow, and extra thick black eye liner. Not because I wanted to look like a hell-raiser, but because I figured the color matched my soul. Or rather, what it had become over the years. 

I leaned in toward the mirror and gasped. 

Normally a shade of dark violet, my eyes were now an alarming shade of purple. I leaned in even closer, mouth dangling open to get a better view, and ended up fogging the mirror even more. Ripping off my towel, I wiped the mirror dry and peered again. This time with my nose pressed up against the glass, there was no mistake about it. My eyes were now a startling shade of amethyst. 

I frowned. Oh well, it was normal for me to wear my mane in my face. At least now I had a reason. 

With my bangs firmly back in place, I had already finished making myself look semi-presentable by the time the rest of the mares in my class arrived. 

Ignoring their stares, not to mention hiding an incriminating blush, I shoved my wet uniform into a duffel bag before opening my locker to search for a spare jacket I usually kept at hoof. 

That's when it hit me. 

I'd left my back up jacket at home to get washed after yesterday's muddy obstacle course when Harper had the brilliant idea of turning gym class into his own personal version of boot camp. 

"Mother of Celestia!" I griped, slamming the locker door harder than I meant to. Could one more thing possibly go wrong today? The only thing worse than walking around with wet, un-tamed hair, was walking around wearing a soaking wet jacket. Not that I ever worried about my hair, but still. It sucked. 

With no other option than to slip back on my drenched track jacket, I grabbed my dripping gym bag and stormed off - anger increasing with each step - as my jacket began to soak my recently dried fur once more. 

Now even more irritated than before I pulled a can from my bag, popped open the top, and slammed down a high-octane energy drink on the way to fifth hour. Unfortunately for me, not even the destruction of school property could cancel the last class of the day. 

Before I stepped one hoof in the hall where most of the first year students' classes are held, my stranger alert system starting going off. This time the heightened sense of awareness I always for right before something bad was about to happen, wasn't because I was jazzed up on caffeine. Besides, caffeine didn't make the tiny hairs on the back of my neck stand up, or cause goosebumps to chase down my legs. 

No. I knew without quite knowing how, that there was only one possible explanation. Someone, or something, waited for me deep in the bowels of the school. 

> Stranger Danger
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Filled with a shivery thrill of fear, spurred on by debilitating curiosity, I followed the newly familiar maze of dim hallways – each one churning with the warm bodies of students – until finally, I laid eyes on him.

At first glance, he looked normal. Dressed like most of the guys at school, he wore a dark black, baggy jacket. The way he had the hood pulled up, covering his head so completely, made it nearly impossible to see his face.

I narrowed my eyes in an attempt to pierce his – hidden deep within the recesses of the hood – but it was no use. His eyes were lost to shadows. With the exception of towering over everyone else, he probably wouldn't have stood out at all.

To anypony else, that is.

He didn’t notice me. At least, not right away. The way he stood so impossibly still made him seem frozen, until he turned unexpectedly in my direction and caught me staring. My first reaction was to drop my head and pretend I wasn't, but between the deer-caught-in-headlights look on my face, plus the fact that I was the only pony not moving in the crowded hallway…well, let’s just say I couldn't have been more obvious. Especially the way everyone kept bumping into me like a living roadblock. I would've moved to avoid being trampled, but I was too focused on the tall, hulking figure, looming threateningly across from me to be bothered enough to get out of the way. As his continuing stare stilled my limbs, something about his darkened face sent another round of fresh chills chasing down my spine.

I allowed my gaze to sweep hesitantly over the faces of students who, oblivious to any danger, were going peacefully about their business. Then, returning his stare, it became clear from the way he never broke eye contact – not to mention the creepy vibe I'd picked up on – that he was the hawk and I was his prey.

The warning bell sounded, signaling the beginning of fifth hour. My body filled with heat as a rush of electric tension, flowing unexpectedly through my veins like an adrenaline pump, made the sudden slamming of metal locker doors sound more like gunshots.

I jumped at the noise.

For some strange reason, I wasn't exactly afraid of him, but knew that I should've been, and that's what scared the hell out of me.

“Get a grip, Scootaloo,” I thought to myself, shaking off the nerves. He was probably just playing around in an effort to scare me. After all, Nightmare Night was less than a week away. If that was the case, and he'd come here just to yank my chain, he was going to wish he hadn't. I don't do playful.

I waited for the coast to clear. Within seconds, every student had disappeared into their classrooms. With the exception of me, of course. And I was already so pissed-off, that I didn't care if I insulted the intruder before discovering why he had invaded my turf.

“Hey there, Freakzilla. Did you dress up for a special occasion, or are you hiding under that hood because you're really just that ugly?” As I waited for his reply, I didn't attempt to hide my humor.

I should have.

His answer came in the form of a low, bass growl as hot, fetid breath roared from his mouth like a sewer blast.

God, he could seriously use some mints!

My stomach twisted with revulsion. I fought hard to keep from puking my guts out – and won, remaining upright – but barely, as the lingering putrid smell grew in sickening waves, until it nearly burned my eyeballs. I opened my mouth to make another biting comment and froze when in a sudden, defiant movement he raised a powerful leg and tore off his hood. The face he revealed was beyond disturbing. He looked zombified, only it wasn't special effects making his fur, or what was left of it anyway, seem as if it could slip right off his face at any moment. Nasty.

But there was also something else. Something oddly familiar about him. I had to practically squint.

And then I saw it.

Terror jerked my stomach like a punch in the gut when I realized I recognized him. Rumble, star hoofball player. He'd left only a few weeks ago to attend college at the University of Manehattan. The whole town had just given him a huge sendoff.

Rumble was one of the lucky ones. All the kids in school were jealous of him, and he'd seemed relieved to be escaping "Hickville." So why was he back here bothering me? Hadn't anyone at U of M noticed he was MIA? But what I really, really wanted to know was...why in the hell did he smell so bad? Like 200 pounds of rotting meat.

I actually had to fight my first reaction, which was to pinch my nose and yell, “Put your damn hood back on!” but I couldn't make my mouth form the words. Instead, I went with a breathy, "Rumble, what happened to you?" because it seemed more...diplomatic.

This time he didn't respond.

His fur had turned to a gray-olive green instead of the shimmering white perfection I remembered from seeing him around school. In fact, his model good looks had vanished altogether. In their place was something that appeared more bestial than pony. Monstrous even. Standing slightly hunched over, he looked almost unreal. Especially when he drew back his lips in a menacing snarl, exposing the uneven edges of broken, jagged teeth that looked purposefully sharpened. Like knives.

Rumble returned my naked stare with what could only be described as blood lust – the urge to kill.

"Master sent me to find you," he finally said, voice deep and raspy.

"I didn't know I was lost," I replied automatically, using humor with reckless abandon like a shield that would somehow protect me. When he showed zero sign of response, I knew my inappropriate attempt at being funny was lost on him.

I should've known better. Monsters don't get funny. And, in my book, Rumble definitely resembled a monster.

Beastie (that’s what I decided to call him) raised one leg, sinewy muscles clearly showing even under his thick hoodie, and made a slow, purposeful motion with his hoof. “Come with me, Daughter of Darkness.”

Daughter of Darkness? I shook my head and croaked, “No thanks. I'm good.” Beastie's hoof remained pointing at me, as if the command would change my mind.

It didn’t.

Very slowly, very deliberately, I stepped back. I couldn't help but cringe as my gaze fell to his outstretched hoof. His fur, besides being that freakish color of grayish green, appeared to be in a very, very, advanced state of decomposition.

I started to think my first impression of him had been more accurate. He did look like a zombie. Smelled like one too. But there was just one problem with that logic. Zombies don't talk. Which left me with more questions than answers. Just what in the hell was I dealing with?

As I continued to gape awkwardly at him - mouth hanging slightly ajar - reality hit me with a numbing jolt. Beastie was nothing more than a rotting corpse, walking around while pretending to be alive.

He wasn't. At least, not anymore. Instead, he looked like something that crawled out of a horror movie.

Did I mention I hate horror movies?

Confidence slowly unraveling, I lifted a hoof to my throat. Swallowing hard past a lump, my eyes slid to his bony legs. Impossibly long, thick, crusty black nails were all curled under at the tips like claws. Claws that could rip and tear tender flesh. My flesh.

I heard a noise and glanced down as something thick and pus-like dripped on his back hooves, making soft, wet plopping sounds. While Beastie continued to inch silently forward, closing the distance between us, he left a wicked trail of grossness in his wake as blood, and other things much, much thicker than blood slimmed the gray industrial tile floor.

Bit by terrifying bit, I attempted to retreat, until I felt the locker doors pressing against my back. A little voice inside my head said, "Be afraid. Be very, very afraid."

For once, I didn't argue.

Horribly aware of how close he was, I put my front hooves up defensively and, for some reason, Beastie stopped mere inches away. The little voice inside my head became an urgent demand. “Warning! Proceed to the nearest exit.” I had to agree. This probably would’ve been a good time to run. Instead, what did I do? Crane my neck upwards and stare at his mouth. The mouth with the knives.

Sometimes fear makes you stupid.

Black soulless eyes zeroing in on my neck, they came alive as if lit ablaze – filled with an unquenchable fire like I was some kind of pony snack pack. I watched, frozen, as Beastie licked his lips. Was that drool in the corner of his mouth?

Suddenly the anger I carried around like a torch returned with a vengeance, and I could tell I was about to do something completely insane. Like confronting a monster. I didn't even have a weapon to protect me. Just my mouth.

Yes, despite how many teachers over the years had said otherwise, I always knew my smart-mouth was going to come in handy someday. Besides, giving Beastie the silent treatment was like offering him to munch me. I didn't want to give him the wrong impression now, did I?

“Sorry to disappoint you...” I began, pausing momentarily to fill my words with an extra special touch of sarcasm. “But I'm not on the menu.”

Towering menacingly over me, Beastie gave a quick bearing of pointy teeth as another growl trickled from his throat. This time the rotting ooze of his graveyard breath made my stomach do a flip-flop.

Okay, so talking was out. Can't say I didn't try.

I actually had to clench my teeth together to keep from saying something else I knew we would both regret. If he didn't stop breathing all over me, he wasn't going to enjoy the results. Standing this close, I was sure to blow chunks all over him.

"You are coming with me!" Beastie hissed. In a blur of motion he lurched forward, claws splayed out in his hooves as if ready for the kill.

A scream ripped from my throat in a rush of horror. The last thing I remembered before slipping into ice-cold darkness, was falling into the protective arms of an angel.



> The Newbie
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

At first, I thought I was dreaming - engulfed in murky images of golden light that felt more like a gentle caress - until a deep voice, sounding as if it came from far away, penetrated the silence. 

"Scootaloo, can you hear me?" the voice inquired with a general lack of concern. 

Drifting back to reality, I gradually became aware of my surroundings. Realization that my body laid all sprawled out on the floor - and the reason why - came flooding back to me. My breath hitched as both eyes flew open. Scrambling to get away from my attacker, I kicked off with both back hooves in one swift motion, causing my back to skid briefly along the floor in a backwards motion, until my head crashes into the bottom edge of a row of lockers. 

"Ouch!" I wasn't dreaming. The pain was real. 

"Are you okay?" This question from a female. 

Why do ponies insist on asking suck stupid questions? If I'm passed out on the floor, do you really think I'm okay?

"Yeah," I grumbled. It wasn't worth arguing about. Besides, what did she expect me to say? I just felt like taking a nap. 

Shaking the remaining cobwebs from my brain, I finally recognized the first voice. I also knew it didn't belong to a teenager. It had way too much authority. Gee, I wasn't sure which was worse; passing out at school after being attacked, or being discovered by the Punisher. I decided it was a toss up. 

"Don't try to get up too fast," Mr. Harper insisted. 

"I'm okay," I lied. Ignoring him, I sat up anyway - hooves skimming nervously over my body as I checked for injuries. No obvious broken bones. Neck still intact. And when I held up my hooves - I wasn't covered in blood. Bonus!

Free if injuries with just one tiny exception. My head hurt like hell. 

Ever so hesitantly, I swung my gaze left then right, searching the hallway for my assailant. Thankfully, Beastie was gone. 

I realized only then that I'd been holding my breath and exhaled deeply. With my over active senses still on high alert, I wanted...no, scratch that...I needed to know whether or not Beastie was coming back. 

I hate surprises. 

Me. Harper cleared his throat. I glanced up for the first time to see him standing next to some girl I didn't know. Unless I'd hit my head harder than I thought. 

I snuck a peek at her again. 

Nope, definitely didn't know her. Lovely. As if passing out wasn't bad enough, I had to be found by a newbie. This day just keeps getting better and better. 

I smiled up innocently at Harper, as if it was normal to find me lying in the floor when I was supposed to be in class. But judging by the flint hard look in his steel-grey eyes - not to mention the frown tugging at the corners of his mouth - he wasn't buying my act. 

Geez, what was it gonna take to get a little sympathy around here. 

"Let me help you," Mr. Harper said in a tight voice, thrusting one perfectly sculpted leg in my face. For a Principal, he was pretty ripped. But for a pony, he had about as much compassion as a rock. Or maybe he was still pissed from our last encounter. Either way, I definitely didn't want him touching me. 

"Do you want to tell me what happened?" He didn't make it a question so much as a demand. 

I considered telling him the truth and then realized how it would sound. "A stallion that used to go to our school and who, by the way, is no longer alive - but still breathing ferociously - just tried to make me dead." 

Nah. Better keep that little but of information to myself. For now anyway. 

"I tripped," I mumbled, staring at Harper's offered hoof. Truth be told, I didn't line touching other ponies. Period. 

Unfortunately, my legs felt like rubber and I knew I couldn't get up on my own. So, with no other option, I took a deep breath - holding it as I accepted his hoof. 

Just as I'd expected. Harper's touch was scalding hot, just like his personality. I not only sensed, but felt, his anger towards me for embarrassing him. Simmering just beneath the surface, I became convinced that the only reason he'd held himself in check this long was because a witness was present. 

Otherwise, I'd be toast. 

Lifting me off the ground, he didn't help me up so much as yank me to my hooves like a sake of potatoes. 

Big mistake. The sudden movement had been so unexpectedly jolting, that the hall started to swirl around me, white fading to black. 

Oh no, not again!

My knees gave out, and just as I was about to fall, Harper wrapped one iron-like leg around my waist. 

Yes, on one hoof, I was thankful he'd saved me from kissing the floor. But trying to look cool while slumping against the Principal in front of the newbie was out. 

As u leaned helplessly shading Harper's rock hard body, waiting for my vision to return to normal, I felt every muscle in his chest pressing firmly against my body. I tried, but I couldn't stop staring at his shirt. At least two sizes too small, the navy blue polo he wore with the Ponyville High School emblem proudly displayed over his heart, stretched so tightly across his bulging chest and leg muscles, that it looked like it could burst apart at any moment. 

It became obvious to me only then that he'd borrowed a clean shirt from somepony else. Somepony much smaller than him. 

"Do you want to sit in my office?" Harper asked, voice abrasive as if he'd caught me doing something wrong. 

Since when was fainting a crime?

I quickly regained my senses. "I'd rather be hung upside down by my ankles than sit in your office," is what I wanted to say. Instead of mouthing off, I took a deep breath, willed myself to stand up straight and answered with a simple, "I'm good."

Sometimes, simple was better. 

Harper hesitated, then slowly released his protective his protective grip - afraid I might fall over again. I was happy to disappoint him. Finally convinced I could stand on my own, he turned his attention to the newbie. 

"Scootaloo, I want you to meet Ilyrana. Her family just moved here from Las Pegasus."

Ilyrana nodded, "Wassup?" Letting my name sink in, she wrinkled her brow. "What's the matter, your parents not like you or something?"

Yeah, as if I'd never heard that one before. I shot her a sideways glance. "What possessed your parents to move here to Hickville?" The words tumbled out of my mouth before I could stop them. 

Mr. Harper glared at me in obvious disapproval. Grown-ups didn't like it when we made fun of their town. I could almost hear them droning now. 

"Ponyville - voted best small town in Equestria."

Blah, blah, blah, whatever. My point remains the same. It doesn't get much hi kier than Hickville. 

I flashed Ilyrana a wide grin. "I mean...how do you like Ponyville?"

She smiled back, looking uncomfortable. "It's like living on another planet."

I bet. 

I had to give her props for speaking her mind in front of Harper. Besides, what teenager in their right mind would rather live in Ponyville than Las Pegasus? With rosy cheeks, a golden tan, and long, vibrant red hair, it was obvious Ilyrana worshipped the sun. I couldn't help but notice how dark her fur looked against the bright white color of her thin shirt. She looked barfably adorable. 

I guess somepony didn't get the memo that it was cold in Ponyville this time of year. It may not have been winter yet, but the wind chill made it feel like we were in the middle of a blizzard. 

Truth be told, I'd be lying if I said I didn't secretly wish I looked more like her. I'd like to lie out in the sun and get a tan too. 

But one thing's for sure - it had to be really annoying to walk around all day looking so nauseatingly perfect. I was just glad I didn't have that problem. 

Like everypony else at school, Ilyrana stared at me like the star attraction in a freak show. And the sweet irony was that today - of all days - I just happened to be wearing a wet, black jacket and not have paid one iota of attention to my mane. 

I couldn't help but squirm under her intense gaze. Then mysteriously, whatever had been holding her motionless finally released it's spell. 

"Nice to meet you," she said, extending a perfectly shining hoof. 

We shared a long awkward silence. I had issues with shaking hooves too. Not because I could read pony's minds by touching them. I'd actually welcome that ability. No, it was more of the fact that when I came in contact with ponies, they had a way of leaking their emotional garbage all over me like toxic waste. School being the worst, of course. Surrounded by so much personal drama on a daily, friggin' basis made me feel like a prisoner trapped in a perpetual windstorm of emotions. 

Unfortunately, it didn't just happen from touching either. I also absorbed ponies' feelings if they got too close. 

From what I could tell, the only benefit of experiencing the emotions of everpony I came in contact with, somehow saved me from the wreckage of having to face my own feelings of rejection. And, trust me, that is something I absolutely did not want to do. I was pissed-off most of the time as it was. 

Ignoring Ilyrana's hoof, I quickly bent down to retrieve my papers and empty, caffeine-fueled beverage containers - scattered all over the hall. I hoped (prayed was more like it) that nopony noticed the dried blood on the floor. 

Ilyrana surprised me badly when she started helping. Kneeling in such close proximity to her, either it was just my imagination, or she smelled like coffee. Toasted hazelnut to be exact. 

Weird. I must have caffeine on the brain. 

When finished, Ilyrana handed me my newly stuffed book bag. "Thanks," I managed, pathetically. I turned to Mr. Harper. "I'm sorry; I have to get to class."

I walked away, beating myself up inside. Why the crap did I apologize? Could I help it if he made me a little jumpy? Okay, a lot jumpy. When he got his hooves on me, I was going to be toast. 

"Actually, Scootaloo," Harper called out, interrupting my stream of mental babble. 

I stopped abruptly - pivoting about - my hooves slipping against the floor. I almost fell over. Almost, but not quite. When I turned back around, I blushed like crazy. "Huh?"

"Since fifth hour is almost over, I'm going to dismiss you for the day," he explained, eyeballing me carefully. "Do you need someone to pick you up?"

Well, he was just full of surprises. 

Instead of being grateful, I found myself wondering why he was being so nice. Maybe he was just biding his time. Like the calm before a storm. 

"No thanks, I'll walk," I lied. If I had a choice between my mother nagging me at me to tell her why she had to come to school to pick me up early, and walking...Trust me, I would much rather walk the eight and a half miles home in peace and quiet - thank you very much. 

Harper moved forward and patted me firmly on the shoulder. "Okay then, I'll see you in the morning." His voice may have sounded amiable, but the look in his eyes was pure darkness. Spinning around in his heels, he walked away, leaving me to stare after him. A couple seconds later he must've realized that Ilyrana wasn't following, because he barked her name as if he expected her to heel. 

"Harper doesn't like to be kept waiting," I muttered. 

Ilyrana regarded me evenly, obviously unaware of the danger of holding up the Punisher. Eyes narrowing, she asked, "Are you sure you're gonna be okay? You look paler than white bread."

Gee, thanks. 

"No, I'm fine. Really." I insisted. "Pale, but fine."

She hesitated. "See you tomorrow?"

I nodded. 

Flashing me a mega-watt smile that made me suddenly wish I'd worn sunglasses, she strode away. I lingered in the hallway, watching her until she turned the corner. Part of me wondered if that would be the last time she ever talked to me. Of course, there was always the remote possibility that she wouldn't believe all the gossip about me when she heard it. 

Yeah, right. There wasn't a snowflakes chance in hell of that ever happening. 

> The Drifter
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

On the long, lonely walk home the sun finally decided to peek out from behind stormy gray clouds, offering some warmth if only for a moment. I was thankful that it had finally stopped raining, which was a good thing because I didn't own an umbrella.

The stifling summer heat of just last month – now a distant memory – had finally lifted. Birds flitted about, chirping overhead as if it were spring. The heavy smells of fall with its tangy aroma of pine trees, filled the air while a steady, coldish breeze brushed my cheeks and played with my mane.

It was the heart of autumn in Ponyville, and leaves on the trees had already changed from greens into yellows, oranges, and crimson reds. In a few more days the colors would be even more glorious as the leaves reached their peak. I might have enjoyed the walk if I hadn't been so preoccupied with searching the woods for Beastie, while at the same time trying to remember every tip I could think of for surviving a zombie attack.

Since my mouth had failed epically to protect me, I did the first smart thing I could think of. I grabbed a nice thick, sturdy tree limb and practiced swinging it. Satisfied, I ignored my mom's warnings about walking in the road and strolled right down the middle, careful to avoid the dense shrubbery and bushes along the shoulder. I didn't plan on being surprised twice in one day if I could help it. Usually, I didn't pass by a single soul on the way to my house.

With the exception of today, of course.

Far off in the distance, a female figure stood beside one of the many ancient oak trees lining the humble country road. I glanced over my shoulder in case I needed to call for help, knowing full well that nobody else lived on my road but me.

As far as I could tell, I had only two options. First, I could run in the opposite direction, screaming my head off. Or second, I could trust that I was capable of swinging my trusty tree limb and aiming for the brain. I opted for the latter.

Time to put my big girl panties on.

With each step I took, a cold knot of panic started to grow in the center of my gut. I braved a harder glance as I approached and was sure...well, I was mostly sure (hoped was more like it) that this mare wasn't Beastie. Or what was left of him anyway.

I did the slow head turning thing just in case, as I carefully made my way past him. Nope, definitely not Beastie. Besides, this mare was a tall drink of beautiful with extra ice. She was simply too delicious looking to be dead. She had one of those utterly feminine faces that you always see in fashion modeling magazines. The way she wore her vibrant blue mane and tail in elaborate curls reminded me of a princess. Wearing a crisp, neon orange jacket she could’ve played the lead in any romance movie.

Eyebrows furrowed tightly together, she stood with one leg bent, back pressed up and leaning...no, not leaning exactly...more like leaning with major attitude against the tree, while absolutely glowering at me.

She looked like a total bad-ass. Intimidating much?

“You don't look dangerous,” she said, sounding thoughtful.

I stopped walking and made a slight U-turn to face her, careful to keep my distance. “What did you say?”

She wrinkled her forehead in confusion. 

At first glance, it appeared as though she had on a ton of eyeliner. But, upon closer inspection, I realized that she was actually just disgustingly gifted with thick, dark lashes.

I didn't even know the mare, but she was obviously off her meds and wasting my time. Probably some kind of drifter.

“Never mind.” I gave up and started walking again.

Just my luck, I meet two random ponies out of the blue. One of them is already dead, while the other is deluded. Not that I'm looking for a date, of course.

“Go back to the funny farm,” I said with a laugh, tossing my weapon over my shoulder. She was about as threatening as a teacup Chihuahua.

I hadn't taken twenty steps before I heard a crunch of gravel. I jerked my head in the direction of the noise, only to find the same mare leaning on another tree farther up ahead.

Poor tree.

I hadn't even noticed her pass by me, let alone move that fast.

She shrugged her shoulders as I drew near again, giving me scornful eyes. “You just don't seem that dangerous to me. Why is that?”

This girl just isn't giving up.

“How should I know? I don't speak crazy. That's your department.” I said, brushing past her. “Besides, you just met me. Give it five minutes.”

The drifter fell into step beside me. I couldn't help but shudder. Not because the close proximity of her body bothered me – more like because it didn't. Maybe my stranger alert system was on the fritz.

“I've known you a lot longer than five minutes,” she broke in.

Never mind. At hearing her admission, an alarm started going off in my head. This time I stopped dead in my tracks to glare at her.

She paused to clear his throat under my intense scrutiny. “Known of you, I should say.”

“Who in the hell do you think you are, and why are you following me?”

She stood up straight, puffed out her chest, and replied in a deep voice, “I'm your worst nightmare!”

At first, I thought she was kidding, until she reached out a hoof with blinding speed and grabbed my left front leg. Consumed by panic, I writhed in terror – but she refused to let go. As I jerked on my leg even harder, trying desperately to break free, her grip only tightened. Or, at least, that's what I imagined had happened. When the initial shock wore off, I realized that I couldn't actually feel her grip at all. In fact, even as I saw her holding onto my leg, the only thing I actually felt was the gentlest of vibrations. Like the delicate flutter of wings.

I just stood there...afraid to move...afraid not to. I must have been lost deep in horror because when I came out of it, I found her laughing. It hadn't even occurred to me that she'd finally let me go.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you,” she said with a chuckle. “I've just always wanted to say that.” I watched intently as he carefully extended her right hoof, eyes still sparkling with laughter. “My name is Alea, by the way.”

“Are you crazy?” I yelled, jerking away. “First Beastie, and now you!”

She smiled, but not like she was happy. “Are you referring to the pony who tried to attack you at school?”

I froze. How did she know?

Wrinkling her brow, she said, “What did you call him again?”

“Beastie,” I supplied, scowling.

“Ah, yes.” Alea chuckled to herself, clearly amused. Unaffected by my glare, she continued. “Beastie, as you so eloquently refer to him, has been taken care of. You have nothing to fear now, you're safe with me.”

My eyes went wide. “Yeah? Well, right now I'm feeling a lot of things and, trust me, safe ain't one of them.”

“Scootaloo,” she began, trying to make his voice sound comforting. “I can assure you, I mean you no harm.”

I sucked in my breath. “How do you know my name?”

“I know everything about you,” she admitted, softly.

My first thought was...Wow, what a creeper! But I didn't say it out loud. Thanks to Beastie, not every thought that popped into my head had to come out of my mouth. My second thought was concern. But not for myself. “What did you do to Bea...uh, I mean...what did you do to Rumble?”

She seemed to think about that for a moment. “Rumble won't be back to bother you.”

At first, I just stared at her – mind unable to process the words. “You killed him?”

“Rumble was already dead, if you hadn't noticed.”

She had a point.

I took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. Time to get some answers. “Alea, is it?” I said, trying out her name. “You know why Rumble came to my school – don't you?”

She nodded, face unreadable. “Yes.”

When she didn't expand on the explanation, I could tell I was going to have to drag it out of her. Stubbornly crossing my legs, I said, “Care to enlighten me?”

“He came to recruit you,” Alea replied simply, as if that explained everything.

“Recruit me? For what, exactly?”

“To join the rebellion,” she replied, matter-of-factly.

“Rebellion?” I repeated. “What rebellion?”

“The Dark Ones have launched a rebellion against the Guardians for dominion over the earth."

“The Dark who, and the Guardians what?” I said, voice going high. Recovering quickly, I raised both eyebrows. “And which one are you?” I still wasn't entirely sure she wasn't a whack job.

A really gorgeous whack job who seemed to know a whole heck of a lot about me.

“I am a Guardian,” Alea responded, proudly.

“So why are you here?”

“To recruit you to join my side.”

“Of the rebellion?” I finished for her.

“Correct.”

I let what she said sink in without responding. The words, Daughter of Darkness echoed eerily in my mind. When I found my voice, it came out in a whisper of disbelief. “What could you possibly need me for? I'm just a kid.”

“Meet me tonight in the old barn behind your house,” Alea said, “and I promise to explain everything." She started to walk away, and then turned back around as if she'd forgotten something." Oh, and bring your violin too.”

She was seriously starting to annoy me with all her familiarity about my life. The thought that she could know me so well when I knew nothing about her, gave me the squeamies. And there's absolutely no way I wanted her coming anywhere near my house.

I glanced down at my hooves, trying to think of an intelligent excuse to get rid of her.

I finally gave up.

“I don't mean to rain all over your parade...” I began, flippantly. When I raised my head to finish, Alea was gone.

Mercifully alone once again, with only my thoughts to keep me company, I replayed the conversation over and over again in my mind, forcing myself to comprehend, but I still didn't have a clue. It was all just a big, fat mystery.

If possible, the last mile to my house was the loneliest walk of my life. Somehow, I knew that everything I've ever known was about to change. One thing I couldn't be certain about, was whether it would be a change for the better, or for worse.

> Angel in Leather
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

When I arrived home much later than usual, no one was there to notice – much less care – what had taken me so long. Not that it surprised me. My mom was simply too busy. Like me, she had to get up at the butt-crack of dawn. But while I slaved away all day at school, she ran the family business from home.

Winging Farm Market was a combination apple orchard, cider mill, pumpkin patch, bakery, and garden and gift center. Every fall we offered lots of good, old-fashioned family fun like wagon and hay rides, foal friendly corn mazes, zip cord rides, and the opportunity to pick your own fresh apples and pumpkins. Every weekend, ponies came from miles around to spend the day down on the farm. Translation: the townies brought the kiddies to play farmies for the day.

Autumn was our busiest time of year, so right now mom was either out back in the new barn making her award winning apple cider, in the bakery making fresh donuts and pies, or doing something else fall-ish like carving pumpkins. She's so pre-festive, she already hung the Nightmare Night decorations weeks ago.

I dropped my book and gym bag at the front door and, for a split second, considered boarding up all the windows, and booby trapping the entire house in case Beastie felt like making another appearance. But then I remembered that Alea had said she'd taken care of him – whatever that meant – and went into the kitchen to make my favorite sandwich instead. Peanut butter and jelly – the perfect pair. They go together like Mr. Harper and punishment...but taste better.

Grabbing a pop from the fridge, I took my sandwich and a half eaten bag of chips up to my room to reflect on the day’s festivities. Or as my mom liked to call the daily maneuver; I went to my hole to sulk.

If I didn't need answers from Alea so bad, I would have just vegged out in front of my TV and fallen asleep as usual. Instead, after scarfing everything down, I glanced at my clock and decided to change. Since I can never find clothes if I put them away, I rummaged through various piles on the floor, and scored a purple, pink, and teal exercise suit.

Once dressed, I checked my appearance in the full-length mirror on my bedroom door, and frowned. Every inch of clothing on my body was either wrinkled, or permanently stained from my inability to eat without wearing my food. My mom would never allow me to be seen in public dressed like this. But I thought my outfit looked perfect.

Perfectly horrible, that is.

As the sun dipped beneath the horizon, I took a deep breath and tried to relax. It was no use. My nerves were wound as tight as my bowstring. During times of stress, I always found comfort in playing my violin. I checked my clock again. If only I could get in some practice before Alea the “Guardian” showed up.

Before I left for the barn, I pulled my mane up away from my face, securing it tightly with a scrunchie. The only time I ever wore my mane away from my face was when I played music because, otherwise, my thick hair – which seemed to have a mind of its own – hindered my concentration. Not to mention the fact that it got tangled in my bow.

I grabbed another pop from the fridge. It was nearly dark by the time I headed outside – careful to avoid detection. My mom would expect me to be working on my homework, not playing my violin in the barn. But that's where it sounded the best. Great acoustics.

The red, rustic, prairie style barn – built over 100 years ago, and which used to belong to the Apple Family – rose magnificently above the country landscape, punctuating the darkened sky with its soaring roof and proud silo. No longer used to store grain, it now served as my private musical retreat, as well as the place I went to detox from emotional overload.

I squeezed in between the double hung doors and noticed that all of the oil lanterns were already lit. Shadows cast from the flickering light danced in a silent frenzy around the barn.

“You’re late,” Alea called from somewhere up in the loft.

“You never specified a time,” I responded, already annoyed, “so don't push it.”

Moving stealthily across the dirt floor strewn with hay, it was almost as if Alea materialized right out of thin air because, suddenly, she stood right behind me.

“What’s the matter?” she teased in my ear, scaring the bejeebers out of me. “Somebody skip their happy-juice?”

I jumped, spilling my pop and spun around, glaring daggers at her. Great, now my hooves were going to be all sticky. Shaking the excess liquid off my hooves, I groaned, “What are you, in grade school or something?”

She glanced at my hooves first, then met my eyes – smirking with delight. “Good. Maybe now you won’t drop your bow.”

How in the crap did she know I had a bad habit of dropping my bow?

Fun time was over. “Did you come here just to annoy me? Because you're doing a bang-up job.”

If possible, her smile widened. “Play something for me.”

My eyes went huge. “Excuse me?”

I couldn't tear my gaze away – mouth fell open – as I watched Alea casually stroll over to an antique piece of farm equipment – claimed long ago by rust – and climb up on top as if she owned the thing. Lounging with a piece of straw dangling lazily out of the corner of her mouth, she reclined in the seat of the old tractor, propping up both back hooves on the iron steering wheel; front hooves clasped behind her head. she looked resplendent – her body all stretched out like a giant cat wanting its belly rubbed – as a quickly fading beam of sunlight shown on her through the cob webbed window like a spotlight.

"I prefer anything by Bach,” she said, voice husky.

I snapped my mouth shut, shuddering against my will. I was completely and utterly mesmerized by her. I didn't like it, not one single bit.

Okay, maybe I liked it. But just a little.

And yes, I desperately wanted to play my violin. But not because she wanted me to.

Sensing my stubbornness, she folded her front hooves over her chest impatiently, making the tight leather sleeves moan with resistance as they stretched. The form fitting jacket did little to hide her well-toned physique.

“Well?” she urged.

I eyed her suspiciously. "First, tell me why you're really here?"

"I'm here to train you."

"Train me?" I scoffed at the idea. "For what, exactly? I'm already housebroken."

She shook her head. "No more questions. Play a song for me."

Oh, she was going to hear a song alright, but it was most definitely not going to be Bach.

Without taking my eyes off her, I picked up my violin and begrudgingly walked to the center of the barn. Although I didn't usually listen to country music, lately, my new favorite song to play was The Devil Whirls Through the Sky.

I took a deep, calming breath and launched into sawing my favorite rock rendition. If possible, my lightning fast, metal re-mix was even scrappier than the original. When finished, I beamed proudly. This time, I didn't even drop my bow.

It was Alea's turn to stare – smile gone as if it'd been wiped away. She looked at me and the anger...no, more like the hurt in her eyes was paralyzing.

Could she really like classical music so much that she was closed off to other kinds?

“What?” I said, feigning innocence. “I was just trying to keep things festive.”

Alea gave me a long, hard look before hopping down from the tractor. She landed with a creaky thud that shook the wooden planks under my hooves. A cloud of billowy dust rose around her, hiding her legs like a smoke machine. With deliberate slowness, she reached up and pulled the wet tipped piece of straw from between pursed lips, flicking it with a flourish to the ground.

When she finally spoke, her voice was low and forceful. “The Devil...” she spat, as if the mere sound of the word forming on her lips made her want to gargle, “is sharpening her tail while she waits for you. And I can promise you this, Scootaloo, she is nothing to joke about.”

“I didn't mean...” I began, voice trailing off as I stumbled over my words. “I mean, I wasn't trying to be funny.” I would've sounded more convincing if my voice hadn't started to tremble.

Who did this mare think she was?

Supposedly, she'd come here to give me answers, but all she was doing was giving me grief. And it was really starting to piss me off.

Recovering quickly, I glared back. “What are you, the angel patrol?”

At first, Alea seemed shocked, then she stepped forward to consider me more closely. “You are very perceptive, my dear.” Just like that, her smile returned. “How did you know?”

I lifted my brows. “Know what? That you're a bowl full of crazy?”

She shook her head. “No. That I'm an angel.”

> Design of an Angel
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

I laughed out loud for the second time that day. A record for me. For a second there, I thought Alea was going to join in on the fun.

She didn't.

In fact, the look on her face was even more dead serious than before. I had to wipe the tears out of my eyes from laughing so hard before I could speak. Even then, I still had difficulty.

“You've got to be kidding me.” When she didn't respond, I asked the impossible. “You don't actually expect me to believe you're an angel, do you?” I had a hard time saying that with a straight face.

She shook her head. “Yes, I do.”

“You're even more delusional than I thought!” I broke out laughing again until my sides started to hurt. Three times in one day...a new record.

When I finally caught my breath, I knew there was one last thing I needed to do.

Get rid of her. But how?

I suddenly realized two reasons why I liked the song I'd played for her so much. First, because I was really good at it. Second, because it seemed to irritate the crap out of Alea, which made me very, very happy.

Lifting the violin to my chin – bow poised over the strings – I held it like a loaded weapon. “If you don't leave me the hell alone, I'm going to play you an extended re-mix of your favorite song, and this time, I'm only going to play the Devil's portion.” When she didn't move, I dragged the bow over the strings with reckless abandon. “This is your last chance to get out, or so help me...”

I started playing the first few notes and Alea held up her front hooves as if surrendering - eyes furious.

I grinned to myself. “I knew you would see it my way.”

Pressing forward – violin aimed with my target in the cross hairs, hooves ready in case she decided to make any sudden movements.

When her back reached the door, she said, “Fine, I'll go.”

Point for me. I smiled in victory.

Alea slowly turned around, never taking her eyes off me. Just when I thought she was going to thrust open the barn doors, she stopped. Carefully choosing her words, she said, “If I leave now, you will never understand why Rumble tried to kill you. Or why I saved your life.”

I sucked in my breath. Point for her. 

My victory was short lived.

“Can I put my hooves down now?” Alea asked, gingerly.

I nodded, clutching the violin and bow to my chest like a safety blanket.

“Scootaloo, I really am an angel.”

“Yeah, I got that part. What do you mean, you saved my life?”

“It might help you understand better if I start from the beginning.”

“You think?”

Choosing to ignore my snide comment, she pointed behind me. “Why don't we sit down?”

She motioned to one corner of a stall with two opened bales of hay that I lounged on like giant bean bag chairs whenever I wanted to decompress. I placed the violin and bow carefully back in their case and shuffled over to the haystacks, allowing myself to simply fall backwards. It was the best – if not only – way because you don't actually sit on hay so much as you lie in it. That's my preference anyway.

Alea seemed unsure of how to plant herself on her stack, but somehow managed to fold her lofty height into a relatively seated position.

“So, you were saying?” I urged. In the small confines of the space, a myriad of scents assaulted my keen sense of smell. The earthiness of newly stacked hay, combined with the rich scent of her jacket, and something else. Something I couldn't quite put my finger on. The aroma was so unexpected, so appealing, and so utterly...intoxicating.

And then it hit me.

The unmistakable scent of sweet vanilla. Tormenting myself with her nearness, I breathed in as the comforting scent of her embraced me, wrapping around me like an invisible cloak of her very essence. Even when Alea clasped her hands together and began to speak, all I could think about was – why does an angel smell like vanilla?

“I am an angel of light. Currently, I travel between Heaven and Equestria, escorting souls to the afterlife. Prior to that I was a Guardian from the Realm of the Angels,” She began, in a tone so deep and resonant – filled with mournful suffering, as if her words could pierce my very soul like an arrow. “As I started to tell you earlier, Rumble was sent by Angels of Darkness to recruit you.” The serious look in her eyes robbed me of speech. All I could do was stare at her as she continued. “This war the fallen angels are raging goes back to the very beginning when the Devil led a revolt, challenging God's authority, and was cast out of Heaven. So many angels – loyal to the Devil – started following him that God finally had to intervene and close the gates of Heaven. For their defiance, the remaining angels – unable to escape God's wrath – were to be imprisoned in the Realm of the Angels for all eternity. God then enlisted the help of his most trusted and faithful angel to watch over them as Guardian of the realm. For centuries, peace existed until the imprisoned angels, tired of being controlled, rose up and tried to overthrow the Guardian. For their disobedience, the angels were banished to Equestria forever.”

I swallowed hard. I never doubted God existed, but listening to Alea really put things in perspective. As I studied her eyes, I wasn't sure if I truly believed her, but no regular mare could have such fierce eyes, so pale and luminous, so ageless. So haunting.

“Is that why you got so mad when I played you that song?” I asked, regretfully. The fact that the lyrics were about the Devil trying to steal someone's soul, took on a fresh, new meaning for me.

Alea nodded. “Yes. It is never a good idea to associate yourself with anything that glamourizes the Devil, or his intentions to deceive ponies.”

I made a mental note.

“Okay, so what happens now?” I asked, more than a little curious. “That can't be the end of your story. What do the Angels of Darkness want with me?” My thoughts returned to Rumble and I knew deep down inside that there had to be some kind of connection.

“Scootaloo, it is worse than anything you can imagine.”

I seriously doubted that.

What I'd already seen was pretty damn nasty. How could what she was about to say possibly be any worse? Instead of arguing my point, I waited for her to continue.

“Although Angels of Darkness are truly fallen angels, I prefer not to refer to them as such. I simply call them the Dark Ones.”

“Okay,” I said, correcting myself. “What do the Dark Ones want?”

“Revenge,” she said, ominously. "They are jealous of the favor God shows his favorite creation."

Maybe it was just an oversight, but Alea had somehow neglected to mention the part about, Rumble, the killer corpse.

Curious, I had to ask; although I wasn't entirely sure I wanted to know. “What happened to Rumble? Uh...I mean, how did he get that way?” Just the thought of him all creepy and dead, sent shivers racing up and down my spine.
“I'm afraid I don't have an answer for that,” Alea breathed. “Rumble was simply carrying out orders. Somehow his morally righteous side had been stripped away. All that was left of him were characteristics of your movie monsters.”

I thought about that for a moment and realized that I'd never seen anything in a movie quite as terrifying as Rumble. The only difference was...Rumble was real. “What kind of monster was he? He looked like a zombie.”

“I'm not exactly sure,” Alea admitted, reluctantly. “From observing him, I do know that he craved flesh like a zombie, but he was not a zombie. He lusted for blood like a vampire, although he didn't need to feed to survive, and he seemingly wasn't unaffected by sun, but he was not a vampire. He grew claws and had razor sharp teeth like a wolf, but he was not a werewolf.”

Getting impatient, I said, “If Rumble wasn't any of those things, then what in the hell was he?”

Alea shrugged. “A new breed of monster that has never existed before.”

I was almost afraid to ask. “Are there more like him?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

I knew then what real fear was. Forcing the words past dry lips I asked, “How many?”

Alea frowned. “I honestly don't know. Rumble was one in an endless army of the undead. Every time I destroy them, more are made.”

“Made?” I choked. “How are they made?”

She turned away to stare unseeing into the shadows. “The Dark Ones are most likely poisoning ponies with something that turns them into the creatures. Until I know how, I have no way of stopping them.”

“What do they want with an army of corpses?”

Alea slid a furtive glance in my direction. “The Dark Ones have gone underground to elude capture, and now they are using ponies as minions to recruit their offspring.”

I blinked rapidly in surprise. “What do you mean...offspring?” The word died in my throat.

Her gaze locked on mine. “The Dark Ones were banished from the Realm of the Angels almost exactly sixteen earth years ago. Seems like only yesterday to me.” She shook her head as if to erase an unpleasant memory. “They fell to earth and shortly thereafter, implemented a breeding program. In order to achieve the desired results, they only selected adult females with rare but powerful, God-given gifts such a pyrokinesis – the ability to create fire with the mind, and telekinesis – the power to move objects with the mind. Even the ability of accelerated healing and empathic abilities like sensitivity to touch and smell were not overlooked as potential weapons of war.”

“Some offspring have the power to control the minds of others, some can use telepathy to communicate without speaking, and some can even summon the spirits of the dead. Others can perform illusions with their mind and are also masters of black magic. The list of special abilities is long and complicated, not to mention the fact that the nature of the offspring’s power varies greatly, depending on both parents. Because the offspring are half-pony, half-angel, they are also naturally stronger – physically and mentally – as well as faster than ordinary ponies.” She paused to shake her head. “There is no denying the fact that the offspring will become a formidable force once they are fully mature and understand how to use their incredible powers. Until that time, they possess the distinct ability to live among you, camouflaged by their seemingly “normal” appearance. But, make no mistake about it, they are Angels of War, and the only reason they exist at all is to destroy ponykind.” Alea stopped abruptly to gaze deep into my eyes. It was almost as if she wanted to peer into my soul before uttering one final warning. “Scootaloo, I cannot stress enough how much they need to be stopped.”

I looked at him confused. “I don't get it. If the offspring are really the children of these Dark Ones, then why do they have to be recruited? Wouldn't they know what they really are?”

“Not necessarily,” Alea began. “Yes, on one hoof, there are some that know they are different and possess a natural compulsion to seek out darkness. However, there are others that have absolutely no idea who or what they truly are. I suspect that the mothers themselves were deceived and that even they didn't know the father of their children were, in fact, Angels of Darkness. The offspring also need to be recruited because they were born with the same promises given to all ponies by God.”

Finally! Something I understood.

I perked up. “You mean like Freedom of Speech?”

Alea laughed. “No, that would be the rights of every Equestrian citizen – pony's law. I'm talking about God's law, but more specifically, the promises he made to his children concerning free will. All of the offspring were born with a soul; therefore, they alone must decide if it is worth sacrificing in order to align themselves with the power of darkness.”

I had a thought. “You said the Dark Ones were banished sixteen years ago?”

She nodded, face grim. “Yes, almost exactly sixteen years and nine months ago.”

I didn't mention to her that my birthday was in three days, or that I was about to turn sixteen. It had to be some kind of coincidence. The coincidences were starting to pile up.

“Why is sixteen so...significant?” I asked in a shaky voice. Swallowing hard, I had to force myself to breath normally before continuing. “Why not recruit them last year, or when they were first born?”

“Basically, there are two reasons,” Alea said, taking the time to choose her words very carefully. “First, the Dark Ones wanted to wait until the offspring were at the height of their rebellion. It was thought that, as adolescents, it would be easier to convince them to give up their souls. And second, the stress of having both angelic and pony blood triggers a metamorphosis that only remains dormant until they turn sixteen. The Dark Ones couldn't have a bunch of rowdy, inexperienced, highly powerful teenagers, running loose and calling attention to themselves, so they decided to go ahead and recruit the teenagers right before their sixteenth birthday – when they were the most susceptible – in order to get them under ground to begin training. Assuming, of course, that the teenagers utilized their free will and gave up their souls first.”

My head was spinning with questions. I had to be missing something. “So, why did Rumble show up at school, looking for me?”

The expression on Alea's face softened. “Remember when I told you that he was trying to convince you to join his side of the rebellion?”

I nodded, but no words came out. Suddenly breathless, it felt like someone had just sucked all the oxygen from the barn. I didn't want to know the truth, didn't want to listen to her, but part of me...a really big part...needed to hear her say the words.

“Rumble was supposed to recruit you and bring you underground with the others. When you resisted, you became a threat to the Dark Ones plans. They cannot afford to have you fall into the hands of their enemy, so Rumble was ordered to kill you if you disobeyed him. I stopped him from carrying out his orders.”

“Why?” I choked. Not that I was complaining.

Alea took a deep breath, blowing it out slowly. “Because you are the key to the whole thing.”

I frowned. “What do you mean, I'm the key?”

Alea lowered her voice. “Scootaloo, you have no idea how important you are, or how dangerous.”

I leaned forward, recalling her first words to me. "You don't look dangerous."

“Let me test my understanding here,” I said, rubbing my temples. “You're telling me that my dad, who I've never met by the way, is an Angel of Darkness.”

She nodded.

My eyes went wide. "So like, I'm supposed to be the product of an inappropriate angel and pony relationship?"

She nodded again.

“That's pretty messed up.” Shaking my head in disgust, I lowered my eyes as Beastie's words echoed eerily in my mind. Come with me Daughter of Darkness.

"I can't believe I'm a monster," I mumbled out loud. “I'm one of the bad guys."

Alea moved closer. Grasping my chin, which made me go all tingly inside, she tipped my head up to peer into my eyes. “Scootaloo, you are not bad. You did not choose to be born, but you do have a choice,” she said, gently.

She let go and I lowered my head as a single tear slid down my cheek. Another first. I've never cried before. Like ever. It's not every day that you discover you're one of the monsters.

“When I first saw you face to face,” Alea said, interrupting my pity-party, “I could hardly believe my eyes. I mean, here was this unassuming mare I'd been warned so much about, and I thought – this waif of a pony is supposedly stronger, more powerful, not to mention more lethal, than any other offspring ever born – yet she looks as gentle as a lamb. But then I reminded myself not to be fooled by appearances, because, underneath that innocent little disguise is a hungry wolf, hiding in sheep's clothing.”

I sniffled and wiped my eyes. She was just trying to make me feel better. It was working better than she knew. So much so, in fact, that I finally raised my head and met her thoughtful gaze. The look she gave was pleading, not accusing. “What kind of monster am I?” My voice caught on a sob and broke, leaving me unable to ask, do you even know?

She chuckled to himself. “You are not a monster.” her eyes were so certain, so knowing, but what mattered most was that she didn't appear to be standing in judgment of me. As if reading my thoughts, she finished by adding, “And yes, of course I know what you are.”

I closed my eyes and took in a long, deep breath, letting it out slowly with an exaggerated sigh. Opening my eyes, I said, “Okay, I'm ready. What kind of mons...uh, I mean...what kind of creature am I?”

She tossed me a lopsided smile. As a matter of fact, she did that a lot. It was cute, but unnerving as hell. For a second there, I even forgot what we were talking about.

Alea cleared her throat, bringing me out of my daze. I snapped back to reality and, thankfully, her hypnotic smile was gone. I could finally concentrate. “Um, what did you say?”

She laughed. “I said that you are not a creature either.”

Relief swam through me. “That's good to know. So what am I...exactly?” I emphasized the last word, hoping beyond hope, that she wasn't going to give me more sheep references. I wanted...no, scratch that. I needed details.

A paragon of coolness, Alea regarded me evenly. When she spoke, her words were clear and precise, leaving very little to doubt. “You are a pony, but you also have the blood of an extremely powerful fallen angel coursing through your veins. Your father is the Angel of Destruction.” 

That sure explained a lot.

Taking my right front leg, Alea pushed back the sleeve to expose my upper leg. I followed her eyes to the strange, raised marking that has always been on my skin since birth. Like a scar from a branding iron. Then she pushed back the sleeve of her jacket and showed me her leg.

“Every angel bears a sign, or a mark called a sigil. The mark embodies not only the identity, but also the power of the angel.” She lifted up my leg again and traced the outline of the pattern with her hoof. “Your sigil tells me that you are the Angel of Fire.”

I blinked in surprise. In fact, I was so shocked, you could have knocked me smack over with a feather. I've been called a lot of things in my life, but angel wasn't one of them.

“Angel of Fire,” I repeated in disbelief, touching the mark. “My mom always said it was a birthmark.” As I stared at my leg, I could clearly make out the symbol for fire that only now made sense to me. The image reminded me of something else she'd said, so I asked, “What did you say about me being a key?”

She smiled again. Danger! Danger!

I made a point of concentrating on her eyes. Eyes don't make me stupid. “What I said was – you are the key to the Dark Ones plans. I didn't actually mean that you are a key.”

“Oh.” I gave her a hard look – I was still missing something. “How am I the key again?” Getting details out of her was like pulling teeth.

“Haven't you been paying attention?” she asked, perplexed.

I heaved a sigh. “Paying attention is overrated.”

“Scootaloo, focus. I want you to listen to me very carefully,” she said, voice stern. I looked at her harder. “You were born to set the world on fire. And I mean...literally. You – and only you – hold the key that either saves ponykind, or destroys it.”

My eyes went wide. “That's pretty heavy for a fifteen-year-old.” Alea nodded her head in agreement. “How would I destroy the world?” I asked. The question I was asking myself was more like...why would I even want to?

Alea knelt beside me. “By making the wrong choice and sacrificing your soul. If you choose to side with the Dark Ones, they will use your power to bring ponykind to its knees. Their goal is simple. They intend to rid the world of ponies.”

I felt suddenly tired, so tired. Not physically, more like mentally exhausted...which is worse in my book. “Well, I'm not planning on destroying the world. So now what do we do?” I asked, rubbing my eyes. I get scary cranky when I'm tired.

“Business as usual,” she said, simply.

I rolled my eyes in full crank mode. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“I want you to go to school tomorrow and pretend like you never met me.”

That won't be hard.

“How is that going to help?” I muttered.

“The Dark Ones will send another one of their minions to recruit you.”

"Don't you mean, zombie?" When she didn't respond, I had no choice but to say, “Aaand...?” Somehow, I knew I wasn't going to like the next part.

“And...I want you to be submissive for once in your angsty teenage life, and go with the minion so I can follow in order to find their lair. That's the only way I can defeat them.”

I hate when I'm right.

“Let me get this straight. You want to use me so you can find out where the Dark Ones' hiding place is?”

She didn't respond.

I repeated the question because I didn't think he'd heard me. This time...louder. “You want me to be zombie bait?”

"I already explained it to you. They’re not zombies."

"Whatever!"

She smiled, but not like she was happy. “I heard you the first time, by the way. But I'm afraid I'm not asking you, I'm telling you. You will do this for me; otherwise, I will never be able to locate the Dark Ones’ lair. I promise, you'll be perfectly safe," she added, almost as an afterthought in case it might make me change my mind.

It didn't.

I gave a sharp laugh. “I thought you said you knew me.”

She nodded. “I do know you. Better than you think."

I narrowed my eyes. “Then you should already know my answer.”

“And what answer is that?” she said, folding her front legs across her chest.

“I never do anything I'm told. Just ask my mother.”

> Interlude - The Fallen Ones
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

I woke up, finding myself laying on the cold hard ground, in the darkened forest, completely naked and trembling in fear. The silence was almost macabre, like someone was watching me from the shadows, waiting for the opportunity to take me down. This is how I felt because of it...because of the deadly silence.

I didn't know why this killing sensation as I remembered nothing from my past. It was completely blank as the unwritten white pages. Those flashbacks I kept having as soon as I awoke, making my head almost explode from pain, were just like little pieces from different movies to me and they weren't too much of a help either.

I couldn't understand why, nor how did I get there, absolutely alone, with nopony around, no one to give me the answers I was looking for.

I started soon to look around me, wandering through the woods to find some help from somewhere, but all I could see were trees, too many of them. The weak light of the moon wasn't too much of a help with all that darkness. I barely could see anything and my body was totally frozen, due to all that night cold weather. 

I looked everywhere for a path that could get me out of that silent forest, but it was all in vain. I felt hopeless as I thought nopony was ever going to find me there and help me.

As I was freaking out at the thought that I was going to die there alone, suddenly, a strong light that almost made my eyes water, appeared out of nowhere. I tried to follow that light, to see where it was coming from, but it kept distancing with every step I took forward, like it was trying to avoid me. I was so bothered by the fact that I finally found a source of light in all that darkness and that too was ''running away'' from me.

As I kept running towards that powerful light, my body got tired and I was feeling exhausted. Just about when I was ready to give up, a voice that sounded like a whisper at first, then like a very angelic melody, started to talk to me. At first, I couldn't understand what it was telling and as if it could read my mind, it spoke louder, almost making me scream in pain because my ears weren't able to take all those powerful sounds the voice was making.

The voice was humming a beautiful song, then the song slowly saddened and it became like a death anthem. I suddenly started to decipher the sounds and they finally reached out to me through this message, that made me realize what my fate was and soon I started to remember everything.

''You are doomed to live all of your time as a pony, here, in this cold place, with nothing to wear and no one to rely on, for all of your sins must be payed! Not a pony, not even the saints from Heaven or the guardian angels, know Him as you do and even so, you chose to betray Him. You have chained all the good things in you by refusing completely to accept what you are and to whom you belong! Now you must pay for your debts and then go to where you belong now! Soon you will be with the others! ''

When the voice ended with those harsh words, I was already screaming out of terror. I knew what was expecting me after my time in pony form will come to an end, even if it was for about two terrestrial centuries and the pain at that thought, grew bigger in me. 

I remembered clearly what I was and what I had become, just like the others, the ones who told me to join the Legion. I remembered then, the arguement between my brothers, the hatred and the war that started afterwards. The Heaven was crying with blood, screaming in agony for all the lost souls that will come in the future. I still recall all of that as if it happened a few hours ago.

The image of me, being like them, the ones who made the Heaven tremble for all the souls that will be lost because of the hatred, was killing my inner side. But I chose this; I chose to be among the lost ones, a forgotten angel without wings. Soon I began to realize that I will never be able to step into the light again and now I was only suffering for each soul that will be lost because of me, because of my actions, then I thought I will be joining them soon, in that dark and sorrowful place. The gates of the abyss will soon open for me, waiting for me to step in.

I never lost that thought, not even for one second, because I could hear the roars, the curses and the terrible screams and I could feel the anger and the madness that was coming from those living in the depths.

That was when I completely understood that I was, am and will always be one of the fallen...  

> Born Stubborn
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Alea looked surprised, as if she wasn't quite sure what to make of my defiance.

She'd get used to it.

“Do you expect me to believe you're really that stubborn?”

I shrugged. “If stubbornness were a super-power, I'd be invincible.”

“I can't believe you're being serious. You're really not going to help me?”

I yawned. My bed was calling me. “You'll figure it out, I'm sure. When you do, you can come back to tell me all about it, and I'll pretend like I care.” I moved around to each lantern, carefully extinguishing the flames, tossing deep shadows all over the barn. When finished, Alea walked me to the wooden doors and swung them wide open. Standing in the doorway, silvery glow from a stray moonbeam illuminated her face, making her look ethereal. The effect took my breath away.

As I continued to stare at her beauty, I amassed a wealth of questions. Hesitating for a few heartbeats, I finally said, “I just had a thought about something...”

She smiled ruefully. “Don't hurt yourself.”

Angel humor. Nice.

I rolled my eyes at the sarcasm. “Does this mean my mom's a pyro?”

She shook her head. “From a very young age, your mother always knew how to control her gift. She was never a pyromaniac.” She paused, thoughtfully. “And she doesn't know she passed on the ability to you.”

I thought about that for a moment. “If I'm an angel...”

“No,” she interrupted. “Not an angel, you are the Angel of Fire. There has never been, nor will there ever be, another angel quite like you.” As soon as the words escaped her lips, a flicker of regret flashed in her eyes.

“Well, that's comforting,” I scoffed. “With all that genetic tinkering, leave it to me to be a scientific anomaly.” An unexpected bubble of excitement burst inside me. “Speaking of super-powers, what are mine?”

She tilted her head to the side, face solemn. “You are quite powerful. Extremely dangerous, in fact.”

“Yeah, you said that already.” I decided to try and play it cool. “What kinds of things can I do?” I asked, sounding as if I didn't care. But, truth be told, I did. I really, really did.

Yes, even though weird things I couldn't explain had been happening to me, right now I honestly didn't feel an ounce of power. Zip. Zero. Zilch. Nada. I knew this to be true for the simple fact that I'd already run through a mental checklist, and failed miserably. I was hopelessly and utterly normal. Just a regular dork – nothing special.

Maybe Alea had me confused with somepony else.

As I continued to mull it over, my thoughts returned to Mr. Harper. I smiled inwardly. Could I really be responsible for what had happened to him? Part of me, a really small part, still thought it was all just a coincidence.

“Scootaloo,” I jumped at hearing my name. “Do you remember when I admitted that I've been watching you?”

“Of course.” How could I forget? “I thought you were a creeper.”

She looked at me confused. “What's a creeper?” I opened my mouth to explain, but she held up a hoof, cutting me off. “It doesn't matter. What does matter is that you don't hurt yourself, or anyone else for that matter, until you have learned to control your abilities.” She paused to smile. “And that's where I come in.” 
“Let me guess. You're here to...how did you put it?” I paused, pretending to think. “Oh yeah, to make sure I don't run amok and scare the villagers.”

She shook her head. “I'm afraid it's more complicated than that.”

I folded my arms over my chest. “Enlighten me.”

“As long as I am around you, your powers are negated.”

That can't be good.

“What do you mean...negated?”

Her eyes held a glimmer of challenge. “It means my power cancels out your power.”

I frowned. “Well, that sucks. How am I supposed to learn how to control myself with you blocking me?”

“I have been sent, not only to put a stop to the Dark Ones' plans for world domination, but also to teach, as well as, to protect you until you are no longer...” she paused, raking her eyes over me, “so volatile.”

I grinned. “So, that makes you what exactly? My Guardian Angel?” Suddenly, I felt giddy. Like a kid on Hearth’s Warming morning. “Do I get three wishes? No...wait, that's a Genie.”

Darn.

Alea ignored my ramblings. “Yes, I have been assigned as your protector, but I can't be with you every second of every day. You have to learn to be careful when you are around others. Especially at school. It's going to be up to you to protect the other students.”

I glanced at her curiously. “Protect them from what?”

“From you.”

My anger spiked. “What's that supposed to mean?”

I sensed a change in her – a tension that hadn't been there before.

Alea cleared her throat. “It means, don't lose your temper.”

“Why would I lose my temper?” I said, letting the anger spill out of me like an oil leak. “Are you afraid I might spontaneously combust?”

That earned me an uneven smile. “No, I'm not. But, you just proved my point for me. Thank you.”

A sound of disgust erupted from my throat. “I don't need a babysitter. I'm not a child!”

“You are correct," she admitted. "But you do need to work on your attitude.”

“What's wrong with it?” I said in a huff. “Some ponies find my attitude charming.”

Ignoring me, Alea began listing my faults. So much for not being judged. “You are extremely mouthy, you have no respect for authority, you have anger management issues, and you are also stubborn to a fault.”

I didn't bother to point out the fact that she wasn't so perfect either. But somehow, being beautiful to a fault didn't seem to be in the same league as all of my flaws. And when it came right down to it, I couldn't offer an argument for any of mine. In a rare gesture, I ended up doing the unthinkable.

I agreed with her.

“Yeah? Those are just a few of my charms. You forgot lazy, unfocused, and irresponsible.” As much as I liked arguing with her, I still wanted to know what I was capable of. “Are you ever going to tell me what kinds of powers I have?”

She shrugged. “Remember that list I told you about?”

“Yes.”

“You have them all.” 
I grinned. “Really?”

“No.”

Way to burst my bubble.

“But you do have many more abilities than you should," she admitted, reluctantly. "Most halflings have only one.”

Halflings? She made me sound like a bird. I decided not to dwell on her habit for giving things strange titles, in order to concentrate on more important things. Like me. I'm nothing if not completely self-absorbed. “Give me the run down," I said, rubbing my hands together like a mad scientist with an evil grin. "What kinds of things can I do?”

Alea glared at me. “This is not a game, Scootaloo. The Dark Ones took those God-given gifts like yours, and twisted them in order to use them against mankind. The combination of your mother's pyrokinesis and your father's powers of darkness, means your abilities are that much more destructive, not to mention deadly.” She gave me serious eye contact. “Which means...you possess unlimited powers.”

I swallowed hard. “You mean, I can move things with my mind and start fire?” It took me a moment to let the words sink in.

She nodded.

“What else?” I asked eagerly.

Alea shook her head and pointed to my house. “Bedtime.”

“Bedtime? No fair!” I sulked, kicking the ground. “I'll never be able to sleep now.”

She raised a brow. “What was that part about you not being a kid?”

That earned her my best scowl.

“Trust me, Scootaloo. There will be plenty of time for you to ask me questions tomorrow. Now get going.”

“Why do you have to be such a fun sucker?” I shot back automatically.

A sideways grin hovered over her lips. “Why do you have to be so cranky when you're tired?”

I opened my mouth to argue, but she stopped me by saying, “Get some sleep. You're going to need it.”

I narrowed my eyes. “I'm not going to get a visit from any more members of Land of the Living Dead, am I?”

“No," she smirked. "At least, not tonight. The Dark Ones will have to go through me to get to you. Trust me, your safe.” She sounded perfectly confident, but something in her voice told me she was holding something back.

I hesitated, not sure I wanted to know. Curiosity got the better of me. “So, as far as tomorrow is concerned, I can expect another visit from a zombie?”

She nodded.

“Great,” I moaned.

“Scootaloo, there's something else you should know.”

I rolled my eyes. “What else could there possibly be?”

She lowered her voice. “The Dark Ones might not send another minion. Especially since the last one failed. They might send something else.”

I was almost afraid to ask. “What do you mean...something else?”

“Because the Dark Ones possess the power of deception, among other things, they also have the distinct ability to take on many forms.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning they could come for you in the form of a trusted teacher, a loved one, even a friend to try and deceive you.”

I interrupted him. “I don't have any friends. At least, not anymore. I don't trust any teachers. My only loved one, or whatever, is my mom and I never see her.” Alea didn't seem convinced. I rested my hands on my hips, sticking out a foot. “Don't worry, I'm not stupid. I'll know somepony is possessed if they suddenly start sucking up to me.” The thought creeped me out. 
I decided to change the subject.

“Are the Dark Ones aware that I'm on your side now?”

Alea gave me a knowing smile. “If you're asking me if the Dark Ones are aware that you have formed an alliance with a Guardian then, yes, they know.”

“How? How do they know?” I asked, skeptically.

The humor I'd seen on her face only moments ago, was now gone. “They need you, Scootaloo. Your supernatural abilities are just one of the ways the Dark Ones plan to exact revenge on ponykind. Their first attempt may have failed, but they are too cunning not to have a backup plan. Failure is not an option.”

I frowned. “Why not? I don't want any part of it.”

“I know, however, I'm afraid you are not being given much of a choice. As long as you are under my protection, they will never stop trying to get you back.”

I tapped my foot impatiently. “But you still haven't answered me.” It was obvious she was trying to dodge the question. But why? Undaunted, I spurred her on. “How do the Dark Ones know I am on your side now?”

She smiled grimly. I watched her striking hazel eyes darken as she prepared to surrender the truth. The worry, now plainly evident in her tone, fell from her lips like a prayer. “The fact that you are still breathing is a dead giveaway.”

Suddenly, I wasn't so sure if that was a good thing, or not.

“You are what's considered a disposable asset.” she paused, but only briefly to make sure she had my complete attention.”

She did.

“The Dark Ones would rather have you destroyed than to see you fall into the arms of their enemy and try to stop them.” The pain behind her voice consumed me when she added, “That's why I saved you.”

I sucked in my breath. And then it dawned on me. She really was an angel! She was the one who'd held me in her arms when I passed out at school. I blushed furiously, shielding my face behind my hair and raced past her – mind swimming with emotions.

As I headed back to my room alone, all I was left with was hope. Hope that the delusion of my situation was not as objectively bad as it seemed.

Sometimes, hope is all you have.