> The Symphony of Canterlot
>  by Disavowed ASH
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Chapter I: Bleeding Melodies
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

 The Symphony of Canterlot





Fourth month, day three of year R.L 1
8:45 AM


I remember that particular day well. The palace actually gleamed in such a way that it could be seen from even the dreary back alleys in the outskirts of the city. Dreary due to the sordid nature of the usual things that happened in them, that and the garbage. Seeing that was actually the highlight of my mornings during my self-imposed exile in Canterlot.

There was a sour note, though: the local ponies were milling about their business, holding their noses up in pretentious contempt like it was just another common sight, and for too many of them, it was. That blatant arrogance still irks me to this day. Canterlot unicorns are disgraces to their horns, thinking that just because they could use the most obvious form of magic, they were somehow above the other races. It is stupidity at its finest, I tell ye.

“Typical,” I said in a hushed tone; couldn’t really help it. You try looking at that without wanting to throw them a fucking brick. I dare ya.

In all honesty, I really think that most of these twits don’t realize just how well off they are. 

If I put all my effort into it, they could lose it all so easily that it would seem like the cruelest of poetic ironies was bestowed upon them, almost as if it were the work of only the most mischievous of the olden Fay. 

But I’m getting off track here.

“Were it so easy…” I said, grinding my teeth in relative annoyance.  But that’s just it, isn’t it? Nothing is easy, most of the time.  That’s what makes life worth living.

I myself was sitting at one of the tables right outside the Ink Pot Café across the street from my uncle Archive’s old book shop. The tables were made out of--or more likely, just thoroughly tinted to look like--polished cherry wood. That deceitful little wench was always a greedy hypocrite, to her the only thing that mattered is looking like a socialite, I wondered how much shrooms and cocaine she sold at that moment, but I then considered it to be unimportant. Sweet’s always insisted on using the same off-white tablecloths as the last owners, saying that it added some charm to hers and Brew’s little establishment. Funny, I never knew that she had that mindset.

Then I heard the hoofsteps: the clip-clop of hundreds of hoofsteps against the nearly three-hundred year old dark grey marble-encrusted cobblestone bricks that cover the entirety of the roads in this rather beautiful yet unnaturally positioned city--on the side of a mountain, really?--sounding almost like a far off rock slide. As a result, I hastily muttered. “What in the world?”

I’ll be the first to admit that despite the perfect weather, there is a feeling in the air, similar to the tiny ripples of static electricity that forms just before a typhoon. Any sufficiently experienced Chi Master or Mage will tell you that, but most ponies aren’t exactly capable of noticing that. Judging from the sound alone, there were at least forty ponies following a Miss Octavia Philharmonic. Yes, the very same one you are all thinking about.

“Well, well, well. Who do we have here?”

Though when I took a look, I counted forty-two when I noticed the two pegasi that were flying close to the crowd. There was also this distinct red-velvet mare wearing a black trench coat who took a look at me with her hazel eyes, giving me a devious smirk with a reassuring wink in my direction. Yes, I already knew her. Yes, I already knew her real name. But until her part plays in this little tale, I will keep that name to myself, thank you.  

“By Celestia’s flaming teats, not her…” I said under my breath, with the hope that she didn’t hear a word. 

Though in contrast, the usually impeccably elegant Madame Philharmonic was, at that time, looking like she had drank half the pub last night. Her grey coat had dried up patches of stale, cheaply packaged mozzarella cheese, sweat and writing ink. 

Her charcoal black mane was disheveled beyond recognition to an almost bathtub drain hair wad appearance, and her pupils were dilated with an odd mix of panic and drunken haziness one would expect from a troublesome morning waking up next to an unexpected surprise; it was either an unfamiliar room or an unfamiliar bedmate, maybe both, or even waking up in an alley somewhere nearby. 

To add insult to injury, she also smelled of stale liquor and cheap tobacco. Though to be fair, the presence of ink makes the last one unlikely, and I’m not going to give away which one of the first two it is either.

I was looking at the spectacle with relative shock; I actually considered at that moment that she had woken up in an unfamiliar room after being drugged and used in a night out in the town. Why was I not assuming that she woke up in a familiar room like that? Simple: anypony that has kept up with her career will tell you that she is a serious recluse. At the time, being an admirer of her work and an owner of four vinyl recordings of her performances in the Philharmonic Hall was such a pony.

Of course, I considered that she was finally cutting loose, but the panic that I felt when looking into her purple eyes was unmistakable.
And that violet treble clef mark isn’t a fake either. One close look on her rump and you will notice the individual strands of violet hair growing from her skin, and it didn’t have a faint separate ethereal field either, so I was sure that it was her.

Let me explain: the best replicated marks--the ones that are made using electrically charged extracted blood plasma injected into a pony’s flank inside an iron ink tattoo--also require a bit of ether from the pony applying the injection; therefore they emit separate ethereal patterns similar to the pony that supplied the magic instead of the pony with the fake mark.

And now you can all be a tad disturbed by the fact that I identified a young twenty-two year old mare by staring at her arse. You're welcome. 

The loosely and crookedly hanging violet bowtie she was wearing that morning was a unique little curiosity.
It was emanating a strange sort of magic, subtle but still there. The magic emanation was well hidden too. That wasn’t the work of  a third rate mage. 

“What happened to her?”

She had a look of uneasy despair and smelled like musk mixed with stale liquor. Either she had developed dependence in the tried and true psychological crutch of alcohol, or she just had a bad night in the Red Light district, or probably both.

I groaned with annoyance at the implications.  “Musicians; what can you expect?”

At the time, I had just finished breakfast when I first laid my eyes on her. I was in the Pegasus District Plaza in Canterlot going through the monotonous routine of reading the paper while coming up with various ways to avoid the constabulary.

“If I get involved, the coppers are going to be a pain… And that lot has to have something up their sleeve.” I muttered in certainty.

You see, for the last three months I have been living in Canterlot, following the trail of a rather unsettling group--let’s just call them fanatics, shall we? At the time, I had no idea of who the exact members of this organization where, a fact that disturbed me.

“This has gone on for too long…” And with that sentence, I sealed my fate.

That is usually the kind of thing I have done by the first week, much less three months after I begin an investigation. They were good at keeping secrets, ludicrously good. No physical remains, no paper trail, and agents who were willing to die for the cause. Lucky me right?

You see, at the time I had nothing but rumors to chase. Ghost stories and tales of missing Earthen. Mostly the ramblings of scared cabbies; I don’t blame them though. Being an Earthen in Canterlot was hard back in the day.

It had only been a couple of minutes since the crowd had passed by and gotten a good distance from the tables. Brew must have been watching from the bar because I could hear his somewhat uneasy flapping from here and the door was closed.

Of course he opened the door flying in that monotonous pace one develops after one settles into a relatively tranquil life. Tragic, I know.

As soon as he approached me, the hair at the back of my neck stiffened. He was irritated; the ether he uses to casually hover off the ground was rapidly vibrating, indicating that he may wish to subconsciously charge at me, and probably twist my neck until the tension would allow him to easily rip out my head from its crest.

He floated there for a second, just a second. Then, he positioned himself to my right, just outside of my peripheral vision. Then, I waited…

For about four seconds as he began to speak. “That was something… Does this have to do with the arrangement?”

I didn’t look him in the eye; I was still trying to pick up any additional ripples of magic in the air. I still answered though.

“I’m afraid so…”

He, of course, had more to ask.

“This is going to be another Horseshoe Bay, isn’t it?”

I wished I could have told him otherwise, but…

“Probably; just from looking at her, I can tell that magic is involved.”

And then, I started waiting for the…

“Fuck.”

There we go.

“It’s nothing you have to worry about; by tomorrow you’ll be a hundred klicks away anyway.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” he replied with a somewhat relieved tone. Interestingly, I also picked up a small bit of disappointment; must be the fighter side of him. I can certainly relate to that.

“I’m going to have to ask you to send a message for me.” I still decided not to make eye contact with Brew; I felt that doing so wouldn’t exactly keep this whole thing incognito. But I really didn’t need to see him to practically feel the scowl he had at the moment.

“So the usual place?” he said with a somewhat uneasy tone; I understand that he had had a harder time getting past the Royal Guard lately. Trying to get to the old passageway under the Castle Gardens wasn’t an easy feat to start with. Then things started escalating. I wish I hadn’t had to send him, but I had to keep myself away from the palace. The client demanded absolute confidentiality. And her Royal Highness Celestia already knew my face.

“Aye,” I replied.

Before we continue, this whole mess started almost ten months before. The name is Arcanum Folklore, or Lore if you lot prefer. And this is a quick rundown on how I, the son of a Celtic unicorn immigrant from Manehattan, ended up in Canterlot.
> Chapter II: Into the Stone Forest
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

You see, I kicked the wrong hornets’ nest when I decided to crash that summoning back home in Manehattan. The summoning still happened, but the summoned managed to shrug off a whole warehouse full of industrial-grade mining explosives in the face before flying to Canterlot, incapacitating Princess Celestia herself, and then suddenly teleporting itself straight into the Everfree. Interestingly, the Princess’s prized protégé and her entourage from Ponyville managed to contain the situation before it turned apocalyptic.

Me? I didn’t hear the details until a week later in the basement of an old friend of mine in Xingtown, the friend being a practitioner of old traditional Taoist magic-infused medicine.

I remember waking up in what must have been a cocoon made out of plaster and bandages; couldn’t move a muscle. As it turns out, he found me in the remains of that warehouse with my left leg was broken in three places and a steel rod puncturing my left lung courtesy of Nightmare Moon. 

She was so considerate. It only took her three seconds to acknowledge my existence before she tried to brutally murder me. And it took her only half a second to reduce me to a pony-kebab!  

He told me that he had to place thirty-three paper talismans on the cast and soak me in the solution for two whole days to make sure that the lung and the muscle fibers would regenerate properly.

As you can guess, ol’ Nightmare Moon wasn’t exactly the most talkative of mares. Shame really, it’s not every night that you encounter the stuff of legend in the flesh and still breathing, no less.

A week before I decided to follow the trail to Canterlot; the lot responsible for gathering the ‘Stars’ and performing the ritual left a bomb in my old apartment. I was warned beforehoof by a former client. He owed me a favor.

I still managed to see my home go up in smoke; as you can guess I didn’t take that very well.

As a result, I hid in different locations around town for a while, never sleeping in one place for more than one night. I even spent a night in one of the Manehattan Island maintenance tunnels next to a ghoul; nice guy, terrible breath, unfortunately.

That should cover that bit of inquiry.

Back where we were then.

I decided to use the preferred tool of the common horned Celt--telekinesis to take my black snake leather-bound notebook out of my overcoat. Why snake leather? It’s great for magic conductivity. But that little detail doesn’t come into play yet.

I wrote four specific glyphs in a vertical fashion, trusting she knew what it meant. The pen I used was nothing special, though, not that it matters anyway. I then ripped out the page and folded it seven times, then came the unusual part.

I then took out one of the throwing knives I keep under my sleeve, used it to cut a small incision into my left forehoof, and then allowed my blood to drip exactly three times on the folded page. After that, I charged it with a bit of magic and then I hoofed it over to Brew. This time I decided to make eye contact.

And with the same scowl that I expect, there he was--Hard ‘Brew’ Knocks, eggshell white, blue-eyed, brown mane sporting Lightning Strike of Baltimare, then the owner of a relatively strange café in the spank middle of Canterlot.

He took it with his mouth; the look on his face told me that he regretted that. He then flew off at full speed. The resulting gust of wind knocked the fedora of my head. I quickly grabbed it with my telekinesis before it hit the ground and placed it once more on my head--and yes, it had a hole to accommodate my horn.

I then took out my old silver pocket watch--it read nine-oh-two--and the crowd couldn’t have been far; I could still somewhat hear them. And I had a decent idea where it was heading. So I got up and charged my horn once more to activate a little trinket I acquired in the ruins of Urrasan. Yes, that Urrasan. No, I’m not making this up. Where were we? Oh right.

I was soon enveloped in the ethereal effect of the item I just mentioned. You want to know what the item is. All right; I never gave it a name, nor did I never speak of it. It has been my little secret for the last ten years. I guess you could call it a perception-dampening amulet of sorts, considering that when I activate it everyone seems to actively ignore me.

I have no idea what its original Hyperborean creators called it, but it’s a small coin, covered in an unusual variant of cuneiform script. It’s made out of a bronze looking material that was oddly enough stronger than even steel. I keep it in a sewn shut pocket in my black overcoat. It never leaves the coat; no one has actually seen it other than me. And in no way am I ever going to show it. Even to you.

I left to intercept the crowd; it took me about four minutes to actually catch up to them, though. I then started following it from a distance of ten meters. As time passed, the crowd started to dwindle away as more ponies felt that the show was over and that they could go home. Eventually, Madame Octavia found a passing earthen pulled cab. She called it and, to no one’s surprise, she jumped right into the carriage and they both rode off.

I observed that from the sidewalk right next to an alleyway, some two buildings from where she got on the cab. I took out my silver pocket watch and I noticed that it was ten twenty-one.

I basically pursued her for more than an hour. Then and there I heard the light clanking of enchanted polished brass armor gaining on me. I reacted by stepping into the alleyway and pressing my left side to the wall. I saw two of Equestria's ‘finest’ unicorn royal guards; luckily, thanks to my perception-dampening amulet, the thought of simply looking to their left never occurred to them.

I counted: one… two…three…four…five…six…seven…eight…nine…ten…eleven… And like that, they were about nine meters away.

I then decided to peek my head, noticing their lips moving. So I decided to concentrate my hearing on their direction, allowing me to use an old trick of mine where I could pick up sounds from a distance with the vibrations from the ambient ether reacting to the sound vibrations in the air.  From what I could make out the royal guard on the right said, “What are we doing searching for this Earth mare? She doesn’t seem like any fugitive I have ever seen; heck, she even seems to be quite attractive.”

The one on the left replied with something that actually mattered to the situation at hoof. “Word on the station is that she is the daughter of some noble that the First Lieutenant is really close to--a little too close for comfort. And the captain happens to be part of the same club, I hear.”

“So this is just some half-assed political favor. Great,” the guard on the right commented with quite the air of sarcasm, not liking what he just heard.

And there was the mention of the First Lieutenant, head of the Canterlot constabulary, which was another indicator pointing to him also being a member of the conglomerate of fanatics.

It would explain why the Canterlot Police had been trying to capture me for the last month or so. That bastard Arpeggio--yes that Arpeggio, the composer--must have asked him to capture me. Or probably kill me; they hadn’t gotten close enough to me in Canterlot at the time to actually know which.

As I fished thinking about what led me to my position back then, I decided to head back to Uncle's ol’ shop to freshen up, head to the Philharmonic Hall, and talk to her peers in the Canterlot Orchestra. If my source was correct, then she started to go to practice the day before.

They may not have given me much to work with, though. But I would have taken anything at that point; if I could have convinced them to help me, then I could, with luck, have arranged to speak to Octavia. Judging from the way she was walking back home, she must have really hated coming back to face dear ol’ Dad. If that was the case, maybe I could convince her to help me, and her testimony would have been worth her own weight in gold.
> Chapter III: Paranoia and Caution
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Pages & Stories Bookshop
11:35 AM

When I open Uncle Archive’s ol’ shop, I always make sure to always check my surroundings. Not by looking, mind you, but by simply listening and feeling the flow of ether. Looking would give away the fact that something is out to kill you. Listening and focusing on specific ripples of ethereal energy just looks like you are trying to remember something. Most aren’t the wiser to that.

Most ponies that see me doing something like that even go as far as to think that I’m just making a mental note. Sorry, but I don’t need to stop moving to actually think. And I certainly don’t need to look in the direction of an oncoming assault to properly counterattack.

The war back in Zebrica left me with a set of rather unfortunate reflexes--it’s not something you want to learn firsthoof; trust me. And with that, I’ll tell ye that there is an old saying that goes: “Do not meddle in the affairs of wizards, for they are subtle and quick to anger.”

I sighed, realizing there wasn’t anyone trying to stab me in the proverbial gut. Usually, you would expect an assassin when you are this tense. But no, my nerves had just been acting up.

Once I thought that was enough, I telekinetically took my key from my left coat pocket, opened the door, trotted in, and then closed the door, and I locked it again. Once I did, I noticed that the security was still working, as the runes glowed orange with the ether I had charged into the quartz batteries yesterday.

I decided to take a look around the old dusty place. Two shelved aisles, and even shelves on the walls of the place. Scattered stacks sitting by the lounge chairs next to the front desk were at my left once I entered. Shelves were filled to beyond capacity with some dusty tomes being placed horizontally on top of other tomes. There was barely any organization to the place. Yet Uncle could find anything in less than a minute.

Uncle had the shelves, chairs, and even the front desk made out of polished mahogany. Expensive, but he was charismatic enough to always maintain a steady clientele; he even had students from the University of Canterlot going all the way down to Pegasus District for simple pulps.

The place had more, though; it held various tomes that held subjects from magic, history, various linguistics dictionaries, Old-World and Classical Equestrian literature, geography, and various writings on fringe scientific discoveries.

Needless to say, it was my favorite place to visit as a foal whenever Father was called to come to Canterlot for some reason or another. Must have been the reason why he left me the place in his will.

As I continued to the back, I felt a slight chill in the back of my neck. I decided to ignore it, as I already knew why that chill was there. I got up the spiral staircase and opened the hatch into what was formerly Uncle’s, and is now, my apartment.

Once I entered, I saw the living room that I had converted into my personal study by essentially building shelves into the walls and then placing Uncle’s mahogany desk to the right side of the room.

After looking around for traps, I entered my bedroom. Most of my chemistry equipment had been destroyed during the loss of my apartment. So what I had left back then was a few beakers that I placed on a flimsy table that I had to nail on the wall to the right of my bed for stability. 

“I should probably try and find a safer area for that.”

On the opposite wall, I had what I like to call my shadow web. Do you think I just spend all of that time hiding out without monitoring any activities they may be involved in?

I feel somewhat insulted.

It’s really a large cork-board nailed with notes of local rumors and seemingly unrelated newspaper reports that speak of several interconnecting events that I have come to believe at the time were the work of…. ‘Them’. 

It was right next to the last group photograph that I took with my old friends from Manehattan back in ninety-seven. Yes, the camera used was one that was made before the invention of colored photography in that same year. Dust Bowl actually felt that it was appropriate to write ‘Through Tartarus and Back Again, Hearth's Warming Eve 998’ on it. I miss that lot. A signature, Dust, and I were quite the trio while we were growing up in Sheol’s Kitchen. Yes, Signature, the President of the Brickling Sun. Yes, the Brickling Sun, the newspaper.

Oh right, the closet. From there I fetched my ace in the hole, a modified-for-pony-use 44. Snubbed Revolver. Now you are probably asking a rather interesting question. Why do I have in my possession a gunpowder weapon? Especially back in the early years of Luna’s return, when the idea of such weapons made most ponies nauseous? Well, it’s because I’m a registered monster hunter, in addition to my private investigation license. (Not as rare as you would think. Back in the early years of the current century and even more so during my father's own youth, ponies practicing more than one profession were so common that it was practically considered the norm.)

You see, due to the Hunter Act of 912 C.R. that allows registered monster hunters to carry and own weapons. After placing the revolver in my coat, I then closed the closet door and locked it. And then I threw my hat on the general direction of my bed.

If I was going to head out, I had to check just how lethargic I looked. I really couldn’t afford to look like I could collapse at any minute. If I was going to coax information out of anypony that day, I at least needed to look like I could at least listen.

I went to the rather spartan-esque mirrored medicine cabinet over my bathroom sink…and I looked like crap. Five-o'clock shadow, a somewhat disheveled black mane, and dark circles under my amber eyes. My greyish-blue color already gave ponies enough reason to feel uncomfortable around me, to begin with, but then it seemed that I was only a step away from being a vagabond. My coat looked as dusty as ever to add an additional jab at the ol’ pride. I decided to start mending the situation by opening the tab and throwing cold water on my face.

I heard then three distinct knocks on the door--one and, a second later, two consecutive ones. That was code for ‘Hey Lore, you sly bastard. Open the door, it’s important.’ It was Brew--no one else knows that knock: the kind of knock that avoids you getting shocked by the etherlectrical generators in the basement.

I decided to quickly finish up. After that I galloped out of the bathroom, slamming the door behind me. I went down the spiral staircase and immediately opened the door. And there he was, and two minutes early at that.

“Ye know, I’m not your errand-boy to fly all the way to Canterlot Castle to get those dirty looks from the castle maids while I fetch you…. what is this, anyhow?”

Brew was returning with the usual brown-pleather saddlebag. I could tell by the slight rectangular bulge that he was carrying a package, which was odd because every time that a new bag was brought, it had documents from the client that were addressed to me.

I couldn’t focus enough to sense exactly what was in the bag, there is some Ether emanating from it, but I wasn’t sure what. And using magick directly on whatever it was wasn’t a good idea, a bomb with ether-electrical parts and a device that can emanate directionless raw Ether can blurry me ethereal vision. 

There could have been anything in that package--an artifact that summons some form of hideous abomination seeking to brutally murder me in ways too graphic to mention in polite company, or a bomb? Either way, the best I could do is to open it or deal with whatever is in it. I could have just set the artifact ablaze and then sealed it, or I could have poured and then frozen some water on the bomb to disarm it, but I didn’t know what was really in that box. It could have been something completely unexpected.

“Good to see ya too, Brew. As for what this is, I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to pull client confidentiality. Sorry pal, but it’s for the best,” I lied between my teeth; if Brew suspected that it was a bomb, he would panic and throw it. It would save our lives, but it would also kill my chances of tracing the bomb or artifact back to the sender.

Considering that we weren't dead yet, it was probably not a time bomb. If it was an artifact, it probably needed someone to open the damn box. If it was a bomb, it probably detonated the same way.

“Fine, I frankly don’t care. I don’t need to go through another incident,” Brew said with that disinterested blank expression that he has used on many poker nights. It would actually be quite funny if there wasn’t the possibility that we could die at any moment.

I decided to remain calm and just continue with the conversation. “I did get ya out of the dungeon.” I sat on my hunches checking that my fob was still ticking, mostly so that he wouldn't notice that I was still slightly eyeballing his saddlebag. 

Naturally, he replied with “And whose fault was it that I was there in the first place?” He said that while pointing an accusative hoof at me like I get my jollies out of his misery. I would have slapped it away if it wasn't for the possible bomb he was carrying.  

He had me there. “Mine.” That got me to think a little, as I scratched the back of my neck in slight embarrassment. Truth be told I did feel bad that I had to leave him behind during that fiasco, hopefully, he did not suffer much during the five or so hours he was behind bars. 

And what did he say next? “He called the guards because you told me to take a peek through the upper window while you knocked out his escort.” I snapped my gaze straight to his eyes. He had the gall to insinuate that I intended for him to end up in that damned dungeon. 

I defended with a counter-argument. “Your fighting style isn’t exactly the most silent takedown method around, you know. If you had knocked out his escort, we would have had more bullets up our arses than a Xingese contraband merchant looking to take advantage of a gang war.”

He rolled his eyes in contempt and said, “Well, we did get caught.”

I simply placed my hoof on my hat, shook my head, and then refuted, “No, you got caught. I had to get you out afterward.”

He rolled his eyes and said, “Because you took advantage of the fact that most of the poor sods that are placed on the night shift of guard duty are idiots in comparison to you.”  

I cracked my neck naturally replying to that with something dear to my heart. “And to be fair that is something that I regret. I don’t like taking away the will of others, even if it is temporary. Makes me feel like a hypocrite, and you know my feelings towards those.”

He actually shivered at the thought I had just conjured up, “Good because I hate to imagine what would happen if you ever decided that an angry mob was the answer to all of our problems.”

In my defense, while I recognize that a good ol’ fashion riot is against everypony’s best interests. I also consider that is exactly what the city of Canterlot deserves.

“Now, can I have my package?”  

He looked at me with the straightest of faces, and interestingly he replied with a… “No.”

And I finally lost my shit. “Brew, listen to me! The princess never sends packages! Always envelopes! And they are always filled with replies to my reports! She would not send a box! You could be carrying a bomb! Give it to me NOW!” What can I say? The threat of my certain demise is always on my head. It’s a side effect of having to confront it so often….

“FINE!” he replied, finally throwing me the package. I instantly grabbed it with my telekinesis, and I began to look for water to freeze the box and then… I noticed that it had already been open…

No bomb and no horrors from beyond the void. And then I looked to my right and notice that Brew is trying to hold back his laughter like a four-year-old foal who just learned what a fart joke is. 

As a result, I wasn’t exactly very amused at the fact that he had been pulling my leg this whole time. I could feel that my blood pressure rising. I wasn’t mad at the prank. Normally, I would be laughing with him; it’s the fact that in order for that prank to have worked, he would have to have known the amount of stress that I was on. And he used my paranoia to get a quick laugh at my expense, which is why I said that.

“Ha, ha, ha, laugh it up. Look, this is too big for me not to be on edge Brew. I--” He interrupted by raising his hoof.

He then said, “I know, Lore. But you haven’t slept more than three hours in the last month… And so what if one of the nobles is in some vicious cult? The mess they did has already been cleaned up. And Princess Celestia’s younger sister isn't exactly thinking of plunging the country into eternal night and despotic rule at the moment. So how is that your problem now? I say that we leave the nobles alone; if he was responsible he will be found out sooner or later. As your friend, I am telling you that it’s not worth the risk.”

I got up and turned my back to him, I didn't want him to see my face. I couldn't bring myself to look him in the eye. He had a point, but in the end what other course did I have then? What other options? I never knew. So I looked at the floor and replied with my best answer. 

I replied, “And as someone that has seen too much of this madness, I tell you that I have no choice in the matter. Plus, considering the circumstances, I say that it would be irresponsible of me to ignore it. You know the old saying. ‘All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is for good stallions to do nothing.’”

He sarcastically replied, “So it’s not about wanting revenge for--?”

I interrupted and flatly, and by instinct telekinetically pushed him back a few centimeters.  “We will not speak of that.” 

“I miss the Doc too, Lore,” he said with an almost solemn expression. The death of Doctor Savage hit all of us hard. But in the end, it was his will to put a stop to the Thule that got him killed, to begin with.

And with that he left through the door, slamming it shut as he left.

“We all do,” I said regretfully after he left.

I took the package that Brew left on the front desk and peeked inside, only to see that it was a short sword and an improvised one at that. The hilt is really a rough piece of petrified wood being attached to the banged-up and broken blade by the use of animal tendons and leather. It was inert, but the metallic smell of blood, combined with the almost uniform ethereal vibration indicated that the blade at the very least was forged in raw ether, the look of it in close inspection was molded with machined precision which would normally indicate it to be a modern work. Which would make sense if it weren't for its prehistoric hilt? 

The blade itself seems like the work of one culture, while the hilt seems that it was made in the stone age. The blade was made of a bronze-like material--the very same material my ‘Trinket’ is made out of.



I placed it back at the table with a hundred thoughts going through my head about the implications. I, at that moment, used my telekinesis to try and pick it up. It didn’t budge. I tried picking it up with my hoof; nothing--as if it weighed more than the front desk itself. I was going to try and figure out why and how it was doing that. But alas, I didn’t have time for that back then.

I decided to make haste to the Philharmonic Hall. Not knowing the sort of things that I would stumble into back then…
> Chapter IV: Evil Does Not Jest
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Palace District--Time Unknown

I had been walking through the streets and alleys of Canterlot for what felt like hours. Ever since I reached the Palace District, I had been all turned around. The place was filled with this fog in the middle of the day. It couldn’t let you see beyond a few meters at best and it was eerily quiet--not a blow of the wind, not a chirping of a bird, and to make it worse, no pony in sight. The whole place felt like no soul belonged there; like no soul was ever there. Pure death: that is what it felt like.

My fob hadn’t stopped spinning since I got into the fog. I felt the presence of a single soul, but it felt like it was all over the city. No matter where I looked, I could feel the presence of something inequine: something that hungered; something that was baring its fangs and drooling in anticipation of the arrival of their prey.

It could have been Thugee mercenaries, it could have been a fairy, it could have been that the local weather team was paid to increase the fog, and the ponies living here simply vacated the premises. Or it could have been something beyond my personal comprehension. I asked myself if I was even alive. Was I in a dream, and I was simply sleeping in some alley, robbed of everything that was on me?

To me, what was transpiring back then barely felt real. And I have seen the impossible before, though this was closer to a sick joke by some malignantly sadistic lower god than a dream. Not that I personally knew any malignantly sadistic lower gods at the time.

But I kept going forward until I officially saw it--Philharmonic Hall. The Neo-Equestrian Classical building looked almost eerie with the thick daylight fog around it. A stone corpse, placed in my path as an omen of ill-fortune. But that didn’t deter me.

I charged my horn, once again activating my ‘Trinket’ as a precaution. If that was real, then whatever was in there was ready.
Maybe the bastards had finally decided to get smart and brought a few of their magicians for my head. I will admit that after having me trot in circles for so long, I was itching for a good brawl; a little stress relief was exactly what I needed.
As a result, I said in frustration, “Time to face the music.”

I opened the suspiciously unlocked double doors and saw a single unicorn stallion standing in the middle of the lobby right under the glass and gold chandelier.

He was wearing a white suit with a black tie, his coat was ash grey and his mane a light blond, short and combed to the right--the kind of look you would expect of a theater doorpony.

Then he gave me a smile wider than I have ever seen in my life, and at that moment I saw his teeth.

A large row of sharp pointy teeth, not unlike those found in the deep sea anglerfish; the carnivorous needlelike daggers combined their shape with the apparent functionality of piranhas and the solidity of steel. His eyes green, producing a blackened hue; possessed of feline-like properties that gave an indication of magic not meant for this earth…

“Oh, crap!” I yelled with full knowledge of the kind of madness that I had just stumbled into.

The ‘thing’ lunged at me with an unholy speed, emitting a shriek worthy of the deepest fiery pits of Sheol.  I rolled to the side and quickly stood up while unsheathing the Kurdish dagger I keep hidden in my coat. I charged magic to it while the ‘thing’ did much the same to the fog outside, instantaneously covering the room in a thick blanket of the substance, seemingly destroying the advantage of visibility. Luckily, I don’t need my eyes to see…

It lunged at me again with what felt like blades unnaturally protruding from ‘its’ hooves slashing and striking wildly as I blocked and redirected its blows with my dagger, all while dodging blasts of magic from ‘its’ horn.

I parried ‘it’s left blade with my dagger and subsequently rolled to my left, shooting a magic concussion blast, sending ‘it’ flying a few feet, but ‘it’ quickly used its blades to anchor itself to the marble floor of the lobby, using the momentum to lunge itself at twice the speed, impaling both of my sleeves in place, barely missing my forehooves while ‘its’ eldritch maw was about to rip a massive chunk of my throat.

Though I managed to stop ‘it’ by using my telekinesis to quickly stab the upper jaw, with ‘its’ vile black blood splattering on my chest and neck. This caused ‘it’ to break ‘its’ concentration, subsequently freeing my sleeves from the dissolving dark scythe-like blades.

I used my lower hooves to buck ‘it’ back, while I charged my horn once more and I used it to summon my less than agreeable familiar. He manifested himself by using the surrounding fog to form an enormous king cobra-like body. 

He lunged at the unholy doorpony from the pits beyond Sheol, constricting ‘it’ by coiling around its body. I heard the sound of breaking bones emanating from ‘it’ as I noticed that the room was now clear of fog, my familiar having used it all to manifest itself on the physical plane not a moment ago.

“Aren’t ye a pretty one?”

‘It’ raised an eyebrow at that, probably wondering something along the lines of ‘Who does this bastard think he is?’

“My friend coiling around your gracious host right now is feeling rather peckish, and he adores the taste of unicorn. So do me a favor and leave the body of Mister Happy Little Racial Purist Number Three-Hundred-and-Forty and let’s be civilized about this.”

‘It’ then proceeded to somehow take a bite out of my familiar. Let me rephrase that. It bit a fucking chunk of ectoplasm out of a damned specter! Nothing does that! Nothing that I had seen had ever done that before! That was a complete shaking hoof to the laws of etheral-nature as we knew them back then!

I heard my familiar’s wails of agony as he uncoiled himself away from the abomination that I have been calling ‘thing’ or 'it’ for the last ten paragraphs. The damned 'thing' then nudged ‘itself’ free.

And then ‘it’ proceeded to kneel and start projectile vomiting foul-smelling black bile that expanded, instantly protruding a three-fingered thin, amorphous claw from its side while it coalesced into a blob of some kind. It then used that claw to quickly drag itself in my direction.
I responded by pulling out my snubbed .44, blasting away at the top link of the chain holding the chandelier. The chandelier then submitted to gravity and fell on my current predicament, but not before that predicament swatted me and sent me flying to the reception desk behind me.

As I moaned in pain among the splinters of the Philharmonic Hall’s reception desk, I still managed to hear the fall of several hundred imperial pounds of gold plated iron, glass, and etherlectrical wiring on top of the new source of my nightmares. The sound of my success gave me the biggest grin on my face as I noticed a half-empty bottle of whiskey to my right.

I telekinetically took it with gusto as I noticed that the chandelier was enough to pin the ‘thing’ to the marble floor. I took the opportunity to quickly bite of the cork off the whiskey bottle, took a swift swig from it, and then spat the contents on my current foe, sparking it as it hit the chandelier.

The fire brought naught but pain for it. Its unearthly howls of agony were something that was as haunting as they are satisfying to my ears. To that, I said the following: “That iron on top of ya must be a real pain. Isn’t it? Tough!”

Gotta love raw iron; its properties against dark magic make things so much easier for me.

Then I lit my horn, heating the iron and gold to the melting point. The sounds of sparks and crackling glass reverberated across the lobby as it once more screamed in pain.

I then poured the whiskey on the floor, using my magic to have it form a circle around me. I sparked it, setting it aflame while pointing the now empty bottle at my defeated foe. The bottle sucked in the blob, seemingly turning said blob to gas; the flames around me came next. I recorked the bottle with the same cork I had bit off earlier. I then burned a rune to the bottle’s side, causing the said bottle to shake.

I wasn’t going to deal with a problematic prisoner, so I shook the bottle in response.

I then felt the air became stale once more. And then I looked to the left hallway. I had to go in that direction. I wasn’t going to run from this.

“I should have brought the double-barrel.”
> Chapter V: Plaything of the Universe
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

I heard a slight groan; I looked to my right and saw the doorpony try to get up. In response, I telekinetically lifted a piece of the shattered front desk and threw it at his face. There was a slight crunch at impact, but the fact that I could hear slight breathing afterward meant that he was still alive.

I trotted towards him and noticed the patch of his own blood at the side of his head, then I telekinetically grabbed him by his smoking jacket, dragging him along while moving towards the stuffy, stale-aired left corridor.

I started hearing whispering voices, voices that could not be formed by equine throats, voices speaking in tongues that I couldn’t recognize. So numerous were the sources that it felt as if they weren’t coming from any direction in particular.

I decided that it was best if I moved along. I needed to find a safe place to stash the freak that I was currently dragging; he could wake up at any moment and I had rather not have come to a position where lethal force was necessary. He might have had information I needed, so it was in my best interest to keep him alive until I had the opportunity of properly questioning him.

The corridor for the moment was well lit and I could see the continuous row of similar-looking oak doors. I continued pressing forward until I noticed one in my peripheral vision that had a plaque that read ‘Janitor's Closet’.

I then proceeded to open said door and then threw the doorpony--that had brought me so much pain since I got into the building--into the janitor’s closet in a manner similar to how one throws a pony-sized bag of potatoes into a cart.
Rather unceremoniously, if I do say so myself.

I then slammed the door shut and I pyrokinetically melted the brass knob. I felt that wasn’t enough, so I began carving a sealed rune to the door with one of my throwing knives. No, not my Kurdish dagger, my throwing knives. Daggers are for close-quarters combat; throwing knives are for use during an ambush, and even then they are meant for circumstantial use.

Anyway, I then continued on, and there I started feeling it. Fatigue. Sure, I already had jagged breath from my fight earlier, but I then started to feel heavier and heavier.  My body started shaking and began entering a cold sweat. After ten steps, I couldn’t continue. Then the light bulbs in the surrounding lamps started to blow off, one by one until the corridor was in pitch blackness. I could still see--I had trained to see in these conditions--but then my vision started to cloud, and my skull felt like it was contracting around my brain…

The pain was horrible. I gritted my teeth in order to not scream out in agony. Alas, in the end, the pain was too much and as a result, I collapsed on the floor.

I was running out of options, and there were words for this sort of predicament. Old words. Lemurian to be precise. I couldn’t bring myself to use them at the time. There was no guarantee that what was controlling the environment around me ever understood the first tongue, or that it would recognize its authority.  Opening my mouth to speak could have rendered my lungs and stomach vulnerable for attack. And considering the nature of my current adversary, I would rather have left no openings…

It was the sound and feeling of the snapping of three of the ribs in my right rib cage that made me stop questioning whether it was a good idea. “GHAAAAAAAGH!!!”

I then opened my eyes and yelled in a firm tone, “Orgu-Emur-Jargo-Ma-Undo-Na!!”

My vision stopped blurring and gravity gained a new sense of mercy because I was actually feeling lighter than when I first entered.
I got up and then stumbled a bit, having to use the wall to my right as a crutch. I decided to trot a bit more, and then I stopped and sat on the left wall.

My breathing was heavy; practically every part of my body screaming and cursing at me like it was Parliament during tax reform.  
I then took out from my left coat pocket a small pharmaceutical glass bottle of opiates. 

I took out four and popped them into my mouth; then I took out my leather-bound hip flask out of my other left coat pocket, unscrewed the cap, and washed down the pills with a cheap blended whiskey. I must have easily drunk four ounces out of the eight-ounce container.

The pain may have started to dull, but my right rib cage was going to be a problem. I probably had internal bleeding. I couldn’t do much about the internal bleeding, but I could have my ribs back in place, even if they wouldn’t exactly be fixed. You see, I had a couple of Rapid Skeletal Regen injections. But this was, by all standards, a temporary solution.

I would have to go to a hospital for my ribs to be properly fixed.

In spite of that, however, I decided to take one out and jam it into my right rib cage, inject the juice right in and let it do its magic. The problem?

“AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!!! SON OF A BITCH!!!!! CELESTIA GETTING SODOMISED BY A MINOTAUR!!!! GHAAAAAAA!!!!!”

The process hurt like finding Prince Blueblood going to town on what was going to be your date that evening over the kitchen table. And that is with the opiates! Not to mention the booze.

After what must have been a few minutes of me cursing every form of life on the planet and uttering blasphemies against deities both living and dead, the pain began to dull, and I was ready to get back up.

I cracked my neck, got up, and started to move forward once more. I had work to do, and I didn’t feel like dying at the time, so sitting there just to wait for my doom was out of the question. I was in less pain, but as you can guess, my remarkable senses were a bit dulled at that moment by the remarkable cocktail of medication I just put myself through.

I soldiered on, and I started to notice something: I wasn’t surrounded by oak doors, beautifully styled emerald green wallpaper, or brass electric lamps. I was now in what must have been a late pre-Celestia stone corridor.

“Oh, crap.”
> Chapter VI: Dungeons and Frustration
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Oh, crap."

I said that. Again. There was the fact that wherever I was at the time was by all standards a world created. Or maybe it was a world that was acquired? Either way, the place felt alien and unnatural, the feeling of ants crawling under my skin permeating my whole being. And finally, the temperature. It was freezing; my breath was even visible as I kept trotting, and if it wasn't for the lack of water, there would have been frost on the walls as well.  

The feeling that maybe this was all a sadistic magical treadmill was creeping into the front of my mind. Making me trot in the same place like I was some sort laboratory rodent who was fed the ultimate vitality pill--the poor little bastard exploded ten seconds afterward--was something that Arpeggio was not above doing to a fully sapient pony.

“Forget just bringing the double-barrel. I should have brought a few liters of ether-fuel, dynamite, and a radio-signaled detonator! I should have been blowing the fucking theater into the Nine Circles of Sheol from whence it came! I will rather be charged with domestic terrorism than not getting the right to see the damned place reduced to rubble, melted steel, and glass!”

Once I stopped yelling at the empty space in front of me and I finished venting my frustration at nopony in particular, I decided to keep going and hope to see a way back into the mortal realm. I should have come better armed. If I knew that I had to break out of a pocket realm, I would have brought company--maybe a Gatling gun.

After processing that thought of potential mayhem and destruction, I noticed a glint of light in my right forehoof. As a result, I galloped at full speed, ignoring the growing pain in my side. I started seeing more light, and as the more light showed, the closer I got to the end of the corridor. Then I jumped and used the gathered momentum and my back to smash through the ancient petrified door.

I stumbled and fell, rolling once in the ground and using the movement to quickly get back up.

And then snow. Snow as far as the eye could see. A blanket of snow, in a petrified and dead forest of black trees, surrounding a medieval stone dungeon.

I looked back and saw it carved with artisan precision… “The Sonnenrad!”

As if the world felt like my arse wasn’t tight enough, the ground began to shake, and thin and muscular forelegs began to forcibly sprout from the black earth underneath the white blanket of snow. Rising from the ground were tall, hairless, and nearly skeletal earthen ponies--their skin pale, their eye sockets empty, and their mouths filled with abnormally sharp predatory teeth. The blood-red fog was spilling from their eye sockets and ghastly maws. An unnatural smell of putrefaction surrounded the area despite the freezing temperatures.

“Revenants. How vulgar.”

I lit my horn in anticipation, cracking my neck in preparation for the coming slaughter.

“DEATH!!!” I roared at the top of the lungs with wrath and ferocity.

I telekinetically unsheathed my Kurdish dagger and lunged it at the skull of the nearest undead horror known as a revenant. The horror seemed to have been charging a flaming blast my way. In response, I rolled to the side and telekinetically retrieved my dagger from a distance. Immediately, the fire blast hit the other horror that was behind me, causing it to explode in flaming confetti of blood, flesh, and bone fractures, some of it splashing my coat in red.

The rest of the horrors braced themselves. As far as could tell there were around twelve, minus the one that was reduced to gore, meaning that I had only eleven to deal with.  

I liked those odds.

They galloped towards me, screaming like banshees for blood. The first tried to go for my face. I used my dagger to sever its left forehoof, grabbed that forehoof telekinetically, and smacked the revenant to its left with it, sending its jaw flying, splattering more blood upon me. 

I heard another one behind me, so I leaped and lunged my dagger at the back of its neck as we both fell on the snow during our struggle. I held that particular revenant with my left forehoof, forcing us to both stands in a bipedal fashion. They then began to charge their fire blasts to turn me into red paste. 

I telekinetically threw my hostage to the one in the center, causing both revenants to explode in fire, blood, and flesh.

The rest fired incoherently in any other direction than my own as a result. I galloped and stabbed the neck of the nearest one to my right; the two to my left lunged at me at once, and in response, I ducked, causing both creatures to sink their fangs on their presumed comrade.

The remaining two were already above me, so I rolled to my left, barely avoiding them. I telekinetically threw two of my five throwing knives while mentally aiming for their chests--they hit their marks precisely.

Then I electrified the two remaining revenants with my magic, using the knives in their chests as lightning rods and frying them both in a couple of seconds.

The ones that I left to the feast were ripping and devouring their comrades with the same gusto that my lovely Redheart has while devouring dinner after a sixteen-hour shift.

As I drew closer they noticed me and lunged not a second after. I blasted them with a concussion spell, causing them both to impact with bone-shattering force into the dead trees behind them.

I decided to telekinetically draw my snub-.44 revolver and shoot them both in the right hemisphere of the frontal lobe with my remaining two rounds. I then sheathed my dagger and hid my revolver back in my coat, which was now covered in the freezing undead blood of revenants, along with my face and certainly both my forehooves.

My breath was short, but I had a plan to get out of this nightmare, and all the materials had then been graciously donated to me.

“No more.”
> Chapter VII: The Humiliated and the Humiliator
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

An Unspecified Amount of Time Later

I gathered six out of the thirteen revenant skulls and placed them around me at equal distances away from each other. I drew a circle using the skulls as reference points and used the crimson revenant blood as ink. Despite the blood-freezing, I was able to scrape it off the snow, not to mention extracting it from the corpses. I melted it using the top of one of the revenant skulls as a boiling pot and my pyrokinesis as a source of heat for the procedure.

A rune burned in each skull--six in total. Four runes were drawn in the snow within the circle and a drawn triangle was connecting three of the skulls. I pulled out my notebook out of my coat. Yes, the black one that was bound in snake leather. I told you that it was going to come into play eventually. I opened the notebook around the middle and used two blank pages to draw the rune that I hoped would send me home.

I also had la pièce de résistance: a heart from one of the two revenants that I finished off with ammunition.

I placed the heart on top of the notebook and I readied my Kurdish dagger for the last piece of the puzzle.

I lit my horn, concentrating in surrounding my dagger’s blade in raw ether. The blade sparked as it acquired an orange glow. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath from the surrounding cold air, and I pierced the revenant’s heart with my dagger, the crackling sound of electricity around me. Then I heard the howling sound of eternity, and I was enveloped in darkness.
______________________________________________________________________________
My return to the world of the living was rather explosive. The large boom, followed by my unprecedented fall to the marble floor, was rather disorienting. I slowly got back up on my four hooves. I opened my eyes to my murky vision and a terrible feeling of nausea, which I relived in the immediate vicinity.

My rather violent oral excretion consisted of black bile combined with what I can only assume to be my own blood.

“Ugh, better get that checked out. I don’t think this is something that I can treat myself.”

I heard a door open to my right; I decided to enter based on a single fact: that was the entrance to Concert Hall B-5, the practice area of the Canterlot Orchestra.

I was covered in blood that was starting to coagulate, I thought one of my ribs had refractured during the fight, I smelled like the dead, and the pains around my whole body could only be described as being run over by a runaway carriage during rush hour, with a migraine. And I thought that my hat was missing.

I wasn’t so much trotting through the concert hall as I was limping. And I noticed that there were shadows following me. When I looked back at them, they scurried like a field of rabbits smelling the presence of a wolf. Good, I wasn’t sure that I could keep fighting.

I noticed that in the front row--in the chair closest to the orchestra stage--was a cello. But not just any cello; it was Madam Octavia’s prized cello.

“Checkmate.”

It was a beautiful piece, made from finely polished and varnished timberwolf, with a gold engraving of her initials on the back, and the strings made from the silk of the Zebrican Gargantua Spider. The sheer cost of life to create the damned instrument was already evil enough as it is; don’t get me started on the smell of putrefaction and misery that it was emanating. 

And if you think that it is the beasts that were slain for its material that I am referring to as ‘loss of life’, then you have no idea of the average survivability of the common untrained pony against such things.

I then noticed that a few strands of Madam Octavia’s mane were stuck in its pegs. I looked around and I saw the curtain, which gave me a less than a favorable idea. I mentally measured the cello at a hundred and twenty-two centimeters long by forty-five centimeters wide; I needed at least a two hundred and forty-four centimeters long by ninety centimeters wide-area worth of cloth to be able to wrap it properly and protect it from further tampering until I brought it back to my study for analysis. 

I telekinetically took my Kurdish dagger and cut something close to that amount from the Concert Hall curtains, wrapped the cello in it, and I then took some rope that I found backstage and I telekinetically tied it to my back, probably staining the red curtains with the still-wet revenant blood. I was probably leaving a trail of red hoofprints as well, though the truth is told was not sure.

I limped my way out of Concert Hall B-5, and the crater that I left when I came back? Gone, and the fact that I can only guess that what happened is that I was never in the Philharmonic Hall back then. It seemed that I was never in my realm to begin with, which means that I came back home as seamlessly as I left and that now I AM IN THE PHILHARMONIC HALL!

Believe it or not, this is actually standard for ending up in other realms. Contrary to what pulps and comics would have you believe, there never is actually a hole or a mirror when entering another realm; you could easily end up in a different realm without so much as a passing breeze.  A good one percent of disappearances are actually due to such circumstances. What makes it worse is that it can happen both naturally and intentionally through spellcraft, though thorough spellcraft doesn’t last more than a few seconds at most, meaning that considering my circumstances I was being tailed by something or somepony.

So there could have been somepony tailing me. Somepony that was powerful enough to send ponies to other realms without the use of etherlectric generators, sacrifices to minor deities, or complex ritual, yet is skilled enough to hide their presence from ME.

“Grandiose. That is truly wonderful,” I said in sarcasm that would make even the great Socrates blush, before massaging my left temple so that I didn’t scream in frustration. I decided to continue moving.

As I was limping I remembered.

“The doorpony!” I yelled in realization of my folly. I couldn’t gallop, so I just kept limping to the janitor's closet where I left him. And then I arrived there. To my horror, the door had been reduced to splinters and was covered with what I can only say is equine blood. The pattern of the splinters and the melted remains of the brass knob indicate that the door was smashed through the outside with unimaginable speed and force. The result is that it could be some sort of tentacle considering that the copious blood splatter and the pattern points to him being crushed to death in less than a second.

Not to mention the various broken glass pitchers once filled with cleaning solutions surrounding the area in the closet. So the evidence to something physical instead of ethereal crushing him is further mounted to the forefront of my mind.

“Oh joy, that’s just grand! A most likely dead witness, and evidence to spellcasting too powerful and quick to be from the average mage. That is just fan-fucking-tastic!”

If you did not catch that as sarcasm, then I feel some genuine pity for ye. My situation was getting worse and getting back to the shop without a carriage may actually have been detrimental to my health; my condition wasn’t exactly favorable for the distance that I actually had to travel to get back.

I also noticed that the chandelier from earlier was back in its place, and the desk and the floor were in perfect condition. Truth be told, I was glad that I didn't have to clean that up.

I decided to head to the lobby, and then I saw my familiar waiting for me in his equine form, with that ‘Where the Tartarus have you been? The food is getting cold’ expression that you expect from a disappointed member of your extended family after returning from drinking away yer woes in the nearest pub due to your date humping away with the wealthiest stallion in that very same pub because of a personal delay.

“Glad to see you are still looking out for my well being, Botis,” I said groggily, with the utmost disdain.  

“That is COUNT Botis to you.”
> Chapter VIII: Selfish Selflessness
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

I responded in kind. “No offense, but that title has been defunct for the last twelve hundred years, Botis, there’s no point in it. You aren’t a demon anymore.”

And he responded, in a rather pathetic fashion, “I can still have dreams!”

And I continued, “And why didn’t you warn me of this mess?”

He responded, “I haven’t had sight of the possibilities of past and future since I was stripped of my power. You know that!”

I knew, I just felt like messing with him. And please don’t feel pity for him. He used to feast on virgins when he actually had an army and power. His current position by selling his services to magicians that summon him for lamb chops is a fate worse than death, and a fitting punishment if I say so myself.

“Did you eat the prisoner?” It was a legitimate question at the time.

He responded with “I have not. Inbreed unicorn tastes like mold.” He said it with such a flat face that one would wonder if he had actually tasted that. Probably did a few centuries ago; not my problem though.

He wasn't lying; he would have left already if he had done so.

“You saw what did it?” I asked with incredulity.

He answered with, “I wasn’t even here; I had to swallow a few alley cats just to heal my tail!”

“Oh for Starswirl’s sake,” I muttered under my breath.

And then he talked again. “I just wanted to say that I quit.”

“How?” That contract was solid; plenty of binding enchantments and blood oaths. As weakened as he was, he shouldn’t have been able to ‘quit’.

“You haven’t brought me lamb from the griffon butcher shop in Salt Street in a while, and that little stunt back there was costly. The contract is void, warlock,” he mentioned with certainty. So much for additional support.

“Crap,” I said for good measure.

And with that, he disappeared without so much as a magical discharge. That itself is another thing that is disturbing to any who knows the laws of Ethereal Mechanics.

“Can’t go through the front, can’t use my ‘trinket’ either. I’m going to have to go through the back. It’s going to be a pain to have everypony have seen me covered in what they would assume is the blood of my murder victims.”

I spent a small while in the building but I eventually find the back exit. With that, I headed out the door and started limping my way into the alleyway. I noticed the sound of carriages and hoofsteps around me, meaning that the city is back to normal. And considering that it was night, the time must be around nine P.M. if there were still that many ponies trotting around.

With that, I saw in front of me a black-roofed carriage being pulled by two pegasus stallions wearing the usual black suit and top hat uniform.

I knew that Sweet Side preferred to use that carriage service, so I tried the code we agreed on.

“The night is chilly.”

And Sweet Side’s feminine voice actually responded. “Luckily, I always have a coat on.”

And then I hear a different feminine voice from inside the carriage. “Come on, luv’, let him in already!” Then came out the same velvet-red, hazel-eyed, black trench-coat wearing mare that I mentioned I saw that morning; meet Bloody Merry.

She was a former spy for the Albion Kingdom who was stationed in Canterlot to spy on Celestia. She failed, so she decided to stay in Canterlot rather than face her former superiors in Albion.

They had been doing that for a hundred and fifty years to the point where being assigned the ‘Sun Job’, as they call it, is treated as the initiation job for their spies. Celestia has been well aware of Albion spying on her for the last century and treats it mostly as a sad joke.

She even sends reports to the ruler of Albion every time that she discovers each successive spy, telling them how their spy did and that the King or Queen owes her a shipment of black tea as collateral. Celestia has had free shipments of black tea for the last one hundred years as a result.

“I’m a-comin', hang on!” she said; truth be told, the way she said that was adorable. She then galloped right to me and helped my trot to the carriage.

“Glad to see you’re as energetic as ever, Merry,” I said with a bit of slyness in my tone.

“Ah, there is Folklore, covered in rottin’ blood and at death's door, yet still manages to be a charmer,” she said with a sing-song tone to her voice. That little bit of teasing was actually something nice to hear after the Tartarus I had been through.

She got me into the carriage, took the wrapped cello and seated me first, and then she sat next to me, lighting a cigarette and holding on to the cello as she does. I then close the door telekinetically and I softly punch the roof, signaling the pegasi pullers to start flying.

In front of us was the blonde, cream-colored earthen mare Sweet Side, wearing a light-blue evening gown and a feathered hat. Rather fancy for the occasion, but she must have been leaving town after he dropped us off. 

“Folklore, no offense, but you look like shit,” Sweet Side said without the slightest hint of irony.

“A fact that hasn’t escaped my aching muscles, bones and head, Sweets,” I said with a certain clarity.

“You're going to have to avoid conflict for a time while you recover from whatever happened back there. Should we drop you in the hospital?” Bloody Merry said with a genuinely worried tone. Well, somepony was actually concerned. That actually took me off guard.

“No, I’m too vulnerable there, not to mention my client demanded discretion, and patient-doctor confidentiality can only get you so far,” I said in a factual tone.

“So you are going to avoid dying? That’s a first,” said Sweets with minimal concern.

“Thank you for your esteemed approval, Sweets. Would you mind dropping me off at my place? I’ll start analyzing what Merry is holding, see what I can glean from it,” I said as a response.

“We are already here,” Sweets said as the carriage suddenly stopped.

“Will you look at that?” I said in a faux surprise.

Merry, being as sweet as she is, helped me down from the carriage and was now carrying the cello on her back.

Sweet Side then said as we approached my front door. “Do me a favor, Merry, keep the stubborn bastard alive, he’s worth nothing dead.”

“Sure thing luv’,” Merry said with a flat tone, probably hoping to get me in as soon as possible.

I telekinetically gave the key to Merry, and she unlocked the door. We both got in with a new purpose. She left me to hold on to the front desk, and she closed the door behind us.

“I made it,” I said in relief.

“No we made it,” responded Bloody Merry with a sense of genuine relief that I hadn't heard from her in a while.
> Chapter: IX Rituals and Madmares
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Pages & Stories Bookshop--Time Unknown

Bloody Merry helped me get up my spiral staircase and got me to the front door of my bathroom. I was waiting for her to let me go, but she was still standing there with my right forehoof.

“Merry, let me go, I can wash myself,” I said, pointing out the obvious--or maybe not so obvious, considering my state.

“What? You refusing the company of pretty mares now, Folklore? Is there somepony that I don’t know off?” she said as a retort. It’s true that me and Redheart ended our relationship under mutual agreement before I left Manehattan, but I did it mostly for her safety more than anything; I still had feelings for her. Not to mention letting Merry that close to me may have been hazardous to her health. The Thule Esoteric Order was merciless. 

“No, it’s just that I don’t think that I can do much, I’m not in the best of shape right now. And ya are a stalker. You probably asked Sweets for a ride when you realized that I hadn’t returned by sundown to start preparing for a stakeout.” I said in a nonchalant tone.

“Alright, fair enough. But I want in,” she said in the most sensual tone that you could possibly imagine.

“Excuse me?” I said with minor surprise.

“You look like Tartarus, Folklore; from that, my guess is that this is something big. I’m guessing that if I stay more than one night here, I’m bound to be a target. I won’t stay, but I’ll talk to Henri and his gang, get more numbers and arm up. You won’t have to pay a bit; knowing Henri, whatever you are against now is something that he’ll want out of his feathers.”

She had a point. If this were Manehattan and a different client, I could have gotten away with it. But his gang was wanted. Branders, as the newspapers call them, are considered to be vigilantes that brand the criminals they kill with a brand of a triangle. The newspapers aren’t wrong, but in the poorer districts of this city, they are the closest thing to law and order that there is. Not to mention that Henri and his gang were rather fond of me.

“Don’t do anything yet, I’ll see what I can do. Henri already has given me sanctuary a couple of times. But constant protection would lead the ‘problem’ to finding them where they live,” I said.

“All right, but I’ll stay here for tonight then,” Merry responded.

“All right, it’s the least I can do for ya saving my hide. Leave before sunrise though.  Once I’m sure that I can land the final blow, I’ll come to you.” I finished that statement by nudging her to let me go.

So she did, dropping me like a heavy sack of potatoes. “Sorry,” she naturally apologized. Despite the sprinkle of sarcasm in her voice. 

I then got up, entered, and then I took off my overcoat. I telekinetically closed the door afterward.  Back then I hadn’t needed a shower that bad in months.

“C’est la vie.”

Pages & Stories Bookshop probably around 10:12PM

Sometime later, after washing away the revenant blood off of my fur coat, and mane, placing the damned whiskey bottle in a runed iron chest that I keep in my closet, and finally removing the  ‘trinket’ out of the sewn-shut coat-pocket, I began to ready myself for some risky temporal surveillance. If you are wondering what that is, I’ll explain in a minute or two. But I had another matter to deal with first.

I was in the study with Bloody Merry, looking around for anything out of place. Merry herself was just sitting on my desk, smoking from the last box of Jade Dragon cigarettes that I kept inside Uncle's desk in case I felt like lighting one-off in the face of my untimely demise. 

Truth be told, I hadn’t smoked since Nightmare Moon crippled me ten months ago. I recovered in three, but Dr. Xing {alias} would have brought upon me a fate worse than death had I started damaging the right lung he worked so hard to fix for me. That thought was certainly enough to help me quit. Trust me on that one.

“I was saving those for a special occasion, you know?” I said with a bit of disdain. That was true for the most part; Jade Dragon tobacco is hard to come by.

“I don’t know, luv’. Cheating the reaper seems like a good enough excuse,” Merry said with a somewhat cheery and flirtatious tone--the kind that gives the cherry boys a lump of ice in their stomachs and makes stallions’ hearts melt in their chests.

“Sorry, but I just had my ribs hastily regenerated, and I was nearly crushed in a magical gravity field, so I rather not do anything that would impair my ability to recover,” I responded.

Then I made the mistake of looking. I only said that she was sitting on my desk because I could hear her breathing from there, but she was actually lying on her side, lazily taking a drag of her cigarette, while looking at the picture I had been keeping in the same desk drawer that I kept my Jade Dragons. Her straight sword wrapped in a black cloak cutie mark was visible due to the angle at which she had gracefully placed her shapely rump, while the golden locks of her long mane and tail spilled over my desk. Not to mention her velvet-red fur. That was the icing on the cake.

If there ever was a more devious method of torture, I wasn’t aware of it yet.

“What, luv, cat got ya tongue?” Merry said, more normally this time, interestingly enough.

“That’s one way to put it. I’m actually wondering what you did to your black flat-cap and trench-coat,” I said with actual curiosity, despite the fact that I was also trying to avoid the fact that seeing her without her trench-coat in that position on my desk left me somewhat dumbstruck.

“On your bed. You aren’t thinking of having me sleep on the floor, are you?” she responded nonchalantly.

“No, that would be my place if I ever do sleep tonight,” I said.

There was a slight smile at that; her mind was certainly in the deepest of gutters.

“I’ll be analyzing that thing for the better half of the night,” I said, pointing at Madam Octavia's cello sitting in the corner there.

Naturally Merry responded the way that I expected.

“Augh!” And as she said that, with eyes closed in frustration, I telekinetically swiped my picture back from her right forehoof. A second later, she noticed that she didn’t have it.

Merry slightly frowned at that and said, “You are terrible.” There was some slight sarcasm there, but it was in good fun.

“And you are being intrusive,” I responded.

There was a short awkward silence.

Merry decided to break it by asking, “I take it those are your friends?”

I responded immediately. “Aye, they were my friends; I still think of them as so, though.”

“I’m sorry I asked. You are right, I was being intrusive,” she said with a twinge of regret and sorrow in her voice. The kind of bitterness that ya get when you accidentally hit a child or make fun of a deceased loved one without knowing that they were dead to begin with.

“No, it’s all right. Ya are part of this now. It’s about time ye knew. Master Yip, Dr. Bronze Savage, and Rocketeer Wrench died. That is known worldwide; they supposedly died in a tragic accident involving the collapse of a possible Atlantean temple they were exploring.

“That is a load of crap; we made it up.”

Her eyes slightly opened wider at that.

“The world isn’t ready to know what really did them off. They were things, things that were brought to life with an infamous grimoire feared throughout the ages and the mind of a madpony backed financially by the Thule. Things that were made in inexplicable ways.”

I sighed at the memory. I could have really used a drink then and there, but I needed to stay sober.

“Three of the world’s greats murdered in ways that I’m still not comfortable mentioning to this day. And to make it worse they got away with it.

“Half a decade later they show up again festering old emotional wounds. Then they tried summoning Nightmare Moon and succeeded, only for Nightmare Moon to leave, do as she pleases, and all of that for her to end up being stopped by a teenage magus and her group of friends.” I may have rolled that off with a slight twinge of bitterness. Sue me for being disappointed, you would think that an ancient evil would have resisted more than that.

Merry’s mouth hung open at my confession. And being a former trained spy, she can tell that I wasn't making any of this up. She then pulled herself together and asked, “Wait. What happened to the other three?”

I answered. “Yearling and I had a fallout after the incident. Zecora decided that her adventuring and heroic days were done and left to do research in the Everfree Forest. As for Redheart, she and I got close.”

Merry blinked twice at that.

“But she decided to stay away from any further complications in her life. I haven’t heard from her since I’ve being in relative hiding. And we ended our relationship in mutual terms, so there must have been a few other saps since then.”  

“All right, let’s make it quick then,” she said.

“Excuse me?” I said.

“What? You think that was going to scare me?” she responded in kind.

“No, but I figured that your self-preservation would outweigh any need to uphold the contract that you have with your client to stay close to me.”

She immediately reacted to that one. “How do you know that I’m not just infatuated with you?” she said with half-lidded and seductive eyes.
I respond with the obvious. “Because you are smarter than that. If you weren't, I wouldn't trust you to get the cavalry. And if you were against me, you would have already killed me in the shower. I did leave the door unlocked, after all.”

Merry sighed with her head down, blowing some tobacco smoke to the floor with an expression of exhaustion. “All right, horn boy, go do your thing. I’ll go an’ raid your pantry for coffee.” She then jumped off from my desk and then left to do exactly that.
> Chapter X: Octavia’s 13th Symphony “The Yellow Court of Kings”
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

After drinking four cups of coffee, eating my only three tins of cocktail peanuts, and eating four diced and sautéed potatoes with black pepper, I made the potatoes.

She only had one cup and one ration of sautéed potatoes; she refused any more and insisted that I needed the calories and the caffeine to use my magic if I wasn’t going to sleep. She wasn’t wrong, but I felt like it could have been that, or it could have been that the paltry heating of potatoes with oils that I call cooking was too terrible to stomach. Either way, I’m fine.

After that, Merry went to write a few letters using my desk. And me? I went and gathered what I needed. A mortar and pestle, a few dried poppy flowers, and the strands of Madam Octavia’s mane.

“That should do.”

I ground all of that up with the mortar and pestle and then sat in a meditative Full Lotus sitting position. I then pyrokinetically lit the contents of the mortar, inhaled the fumes, and began the spell. This little trick would allow me to see most prevalent memories of Madam Octavia, as long as she was still with the city limits, of course.
______________________________________________________________________________
I was inside a mare's body--and an earthen mare at that--I cannot describe how alien I felt being her, experiencing what she did.

Then I received a flash of experiences from that day--the brutal beating from her mother, with force and magic unnatural in a unicorn.  
Then blackness.
_____________________________________________________________________________





It took longer than I thought to reach my home. I was used to taking a carriage when I was forced to travel long distances. I knew as soon as I saw the royal guards approaching me that my parents had gotten them involved. They likely believed I had been dragged away and raped in an alleyway. I suppose they were not far from the truth. I was quite glad to have riled them up. Now I just had to face the music.

I steadied my resolve as I walked up to the mansion. No matter what happened, they could not take last night away from me. Whatever punishment they planned, I was still their prodigy, their ticket to fame. They could not injure me to the point of missing orchestra practice. My father’s career as a conductor had been declining, and my mother hadn’t written a decent piece of music in years.

I will be okay. I will emerge stronger. I will see Vinyl and Lyra again.

The song I had composed--and forgot--at Vinyl’s apartment came back to me. I opened the front door to the mansion and saw the butler waiting. He was frowning. At least I could focus on the music. For once it would distract me when I needed it most. I followed the butler to my room.

“Butters, how bad?” I asked the butler. He frowned and closed the door silently, awaiting my father. At least the butler was not mean to me, even if he wasn’t nice. I had never been so grateful for his neutrality as when I had broken the rules.

The door opened. Father was first to visit me. He walked in calmly, as if he had simply forgotten his reading glasses. He stood there, staring at me, waiting for me to beg forgiveness. I would not give him the satisfaction. I rarely did. After a suitable amount of time had passed, he spoke.
“I had a dog when I was a child. It was unruly and never obeyed anypony. It kept getting in trouble, until finally it crossed the line. My father ordered me to get rid of it, for his patience had run out. I took it into the back yard and bashed it in the head with a rock.

“It cried out in pain, for I lacked the strength to end it cleanly. It looked at me, pleading for forgiveness, but the time for mercy had passed. I had no choice but to continue to beat it until it died."

I spoke up as he turned and started to walk out. “Aren’t you going to ask me what happened last night? How about you have one of your servants beat me for you? I didn’t go get screwed last night to watch you slink out like a cowa—”

My father stopped. He did not even have to turn to face me. The words caught in my throat, my rage at him turned to fear in a split second.

“Do not test my patience. I loved that dog far more than you.”

To say his reply scared me would be an understatement. I need not ponder it long. I could hear my mother coming from clear across the mansion. My bed was right behind me. I could have scrambled under it like I had as a filly. Instead, I stood fast. My spirit prepared to weather the storm, determined to prove that they could not control me.

The doors flew open in a red glow that matched my mother’s horn. Windows across the room vibrated when she slammed the doors shut. My mother was accompanied only by a red bow tie.

“You insolent little whore! How dare you run off in the middle of the night! On your knees!” she screamed.

“Screw you and your coward of a hu—” I was cut off, as expected, by the bow tie. It cinched fast around my throat; the constant reminder of my submission to my mother.

“How dare you! You will only speak when spoken to. Open that vile mouth again to insult me and I’ll rip your tongue out! Now where the hell did you go last night?”

I felt the bow loosen slightly, allowing me enough air to speak. I stood steadfast on my hooves, and answered. “I went to a bar and got rutted, it felt amaz—” The bow tightened back up.

I stared straight in her eyes, grinning. The rage building inside her felt liberating. Finally, she would know the kind of hatred I felt for her on a daily basis. Finally she would understand I would not be caged.

“What bar?” she spat.

The bow tie loosened, allowing another precious breath of air. I stood there, smirking, and maintained my silence.

“What bar!”

I felt a sharp crack as something collided with my temple. My vision blurred slightly as my ears rang. The bow tie pulled me back up to my hooves. She was waiting for my response.

“A mare nailed me—” I felt the bow tie tighten for the final time and knew she was done playing my game.

She closed the distance between us in a fraction of a second, punching me in the throat with her hoof. I felt the urge to cough and gag, but the binding around my throat held the airway shut. The next shot was to my jaw, sending me back to the floor. I could taste the blood in my mouth and let it pool.

“You mud ponies are less than useless! I told him to let me abort the pregnancy. We could have had another child! But no! It was too late, his parents knew about the baby. He couldn’t disappoint his parents!”

She kicked me in the ribs. I didn’t know I could have the wind knocked out of me while her grip sealed off my lungs. She hoisted me to my feet and released the bow tie to allow me a breath.

I inhaled sharply through the nose, quickly exhaling and spitting the blood out of my mouth into her face. “Burn in Tarta—”
Something heavy hit me in the back of the head. I do not recall what. It knocked me out cold.
______________________________________________________________________________
It went black as night. The stars in the sky appeared before me. I was surrounded by space and the cosmos itself. Then I saw it…A figure, looking like a pony from a distance, covered in golden--or was it yellow?--robes. As it came closer, I realized that under those robes lay a mass of yellowish tentacles, and that it was facing down…And then it rectified that by raising its head. A blinding golden glow enveloped me without mercy. Then, pitch…black…
______________________________________________________________________________
I opened my eyes in a blind panic, my heart racing at a rate that brought an ache to all of my body, my vision becoming more blurry as it continued. I fell back from my sitting position, convulsing. Something was on my throat; I tried clawing it out with my forehooves to no avail. I could hear Merry trying to talk to me. I could feel somepony injecting my neck with something! My eyes rolled back, and in a violent cough, I spewed onto my fur what must have been three coffee mugs’ worth of blood. Then my heart stopped, and there I guess it felt like I died. But I wasn’t sure…I haven’t died before.
______________________________________________________________________________
> Chapter XI: Debt to the Moonlight/The Devil's Crusade
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

I opened my eyes. It was the middle of the day, probably morning. I looked at the ceiling and it looked like the kind of plain white ceiling with a single lamp that you would expect from a hospital.

I looked to my right and I saw a direct vein injection in my right foreleg. The line was connected to a glass bottle filled with a glowing blue liquid of some sort--I was too groggy to identify it.

I moved my head and I saw midnight blue fur. I looked up and I saw the clear turquoise eyes of the most beautiful mare in the world. Interestingly, without her royal regalia in my presence, and with her starry mane flowing in an unseen breeze. She was looking at me with the fury of an angry goddess; to those that would have seen from outside the door would have thought that I had been the luckiest stallion in the world to have had a princess worry about me and bother to come to my bedside.

To those that could look from my angle would have said that it was nice knowing me and that they felt sorry for the janitor that was going to have to scrape my innards off the floor in a minute.

You may all know her as Princess Luna, The Mistress of the Night, The Messenger of Raijin & The True Goddess of Eight Banners, The Blood-Soaked Knight, The Mad Princess, and finally Admiral Selene.

“Fool, what wast thee thinking!” she said, with a rather frustrated tone, I may add.

“So I live, I see!” I responded with utmost cheer and possible suicidal intent.

She yelled at me with “This is no time to jest!”

I responded with, “Sorry, princess, but I really do think this is the time to jest. For the greatest jest has been played on us. One where the Unicorn Royal Guard command is untrustworthy and possibly traitorous.”

“One where I see that Arpeggio Philharmonic’s daughter Octavia is undergoing magically assisted domestic abuse by his wife, on his permission.”

“One where I nearly died by the traps of knowledgeable mages with access to something potentially catastrophic. The thing is that the jest is on us. And only those under the banner of the Sonnenrad will laugh.”

Her irises reduced to the size of pinpricks, and she asked the obvious. “Celestia’s royal guard's art involved in this!?”

“Seems so. Not that surprising; the amount of unicorn royal guard officers that are from a noble lineage is not few by any stretch of the imagination. And casual racism is unicorn nobility’s favorite pastime here in Canterlot; next to incestuous orgies and overpriced Gallic wine, of course,” I replied with the best neutral expression that I could. These were facts after all.

Interestingly she responded with, “Alas, some things never change. But we have one inquiry. What is ‘domestic abuse’?”

I swiftly answered in mild annoyance with the simplest answer. “Spouse and child beating; that is against the law of the land now, your majesty.”

Princess Luna actually said something interesting. “We see."

“Great. I’m guessing that my contract is going to be burned due to the obvious break of confidentiality,” I answered sincerely.

“Nay.” Princess Luna said interestingly and with a slight smirk. That could have been really good or really bad. Wasn’t sure which.

And then I heard the clicking of metal shoes on the tile as she entered. The Princess of the Sun herself: Princess Celestia, The Light of the West, The Golden Axe of the Dawn, and finally, The Swift Punch to Discord’s Bollocks.

She trotted in with poise and purpose, looking right at my face. She was wearing her full golden and jewel-encrusted regalia, her mane--a flowing multicolored range of the full light spectrum--and the face of disappointment. Oh, joy.

As soon as she was next to her younger sibling, Princess Celestia said, “But you and I have something to discuss, Dr. Folklore.”

Crap.

{-It may seem strange, but she maters.-}





Fourth month, day six of year 1 R.L
10:00 AM


My name is Lyra Heartstrings and I did something awful. I abandoned a pony to a terrible fate. Sure, I may have told her to go to a shelter or to go to the police. But considering her tormentors were her own family and, knowing full well who her family was, that was useless. I didn’t tell her who could actually help her; I knew who, but I was too scared back then, too concerned for my job, too concerned for my life.

I mean, really, who was I fooling? Mentioning a few made-up horror stories and a fake horror radio show wasn’t exactly the best way of trying to portray that I didn’t know what was going on.

What life was I gonna live if I didn’t do something? If I ignored the suffering of somepony I considered a friend (sure I only met Octavia Philharmonic a few days ago, but given that we worked together and that we shared drinks, I think that I have the right to call her a friend), I wouldn’t really be able to live with myself If I just waited to unfold before me.

Plus, there was a whole lot of noble-killing that needed to happen. I was just a musician from Manehattan, but I knew ponies. Ponies and a griffon that could help. Back then, I just hoped that he would show up; last I heard he was dead, which is why it perplexed me that after I burned his card without thinking, he responded immediately with a note in the mail a day after.

On another note, telling her to go to a shelter or to the police probably wasn’t the best of ideas. Last I heard, the Canterlot Police First Lieutenant was an old boarding school friend of Arpeggio, and shelters are not that good at actually protecting you unless they are backed by illegally acquired guns.

One of those ponies I knew was Folklore. I met Folklore back in my days in Manehattan a couple of years ago, before I met my Bon Bon. At the time, I may have graduated Summer Melody’s School of the Performing Arts, but I still needed work in between the time that I was hired by the Canterlot Orchestra (should have stayed in Manehattan), and I found work with an information broker with an office in Xingtown. As it turns out, he also ran the Brickling Sun, which was rather surprising. My job wasn’t that big of a deal. I mostly gathered odd rumors circulating around.

I was investigating strange noises in Nassau County on Long Island, which were believed to be the cause of a lot of pet disappearances that had happened back then. Unfortunately, I made the mistake of poking too deeply. I ran into some monstrous owl-equine-like freaks eating a copper raw. Naturally, I ran like the Nightmare was on my arse.

I informed my boss the next morning, and he told me to give the report to an expert that he knew in Xingtown. Let’s just say that expert was Folklore and that he took the job without a second thought. And in a couple of days, I read some article about escaped contraband from Germania involving Fay and the Black Forest, or something like that.

On that note, I should have brought something nasty. For all I know, this could have been a setup, and I still value my life enough to have had genuine worry about this whole meeting going south.

But alas; caution was thrown into the wind at some point after I realized that working for the Canterlot Orchestra was not all it was cracked up to be.

Live and learn, right?

I was waiting in the Black Pot Cafe in the Canterlot Commercial District. It was a nice looking cafe; odd location, but nice nonetheless.
Interestingly, it was next to a decrepit looking bookshop called Pages & Stories. Though, from what I’ve heard, it once belonged to a charismatic magus that died a year or so ago. The new owner let it go downhill, but at the very least, it has been said that he had reasonable prices and that he also knew where every book in the shop is located by memory. Odd, you would think that someone like that would have had the place in the up and up. But who am I to judge?

Did I mention that the cafe was empty? Because it was, and that made me uneasy, not to mention that it made me wonder about a few things. Like why is it that the bookshop’s second floor had a gaping pony-sized hole in the wall? Why was a cafe empty at this hour? Why was it that every part of me was screaming at me to run? And why was it that I suddenly suspected that Bon Bon was hiding something from me? Of course, these would all be questions that I would have to answer at another time, because at the time I just heard the door open, and I was scared witless. I felt that the air itself was heavier if that makes any sense. Like whoever entered the room had the presence of death at their tail. Regardless, I took a look.

Through the door came a unicorn stallion wearing a dusty black woolen overcoat and a fedora; he had sort of greyish-blue fur and a slicked-back black mane. His eyes were an eerie ember and his mouth was letting an unlit cigarette hanging from it. I couldn’t really believe that Folklore was there and that he was still alive. Next to him was a brick-red mare with golden eyes and a blonde mane, wearing a black woolen overcoat, black lace leggings, and a grey tie. Did he get a new partner? Last time I saw him, his partner was a white mare with a pink mane fashioned in a bun. Redheart, I think she was called, truth be told, I wasn’t sure.

Both approached my table and sat right in front of me. And it was Folklore himself who started that conversation, interestingly enough.
“Miss Heartstrings, long time no see. How has life been treating ya here in the city of pretentious arses?” he said in a rather sly way, almost as if he knew what I was going to say. Might as well throw him a curveball to see how he reacts.

“Before we get to that, Lore, I need to know: how are you still alive!?” I said, nearly yelling the last question with about as much tact as a rhinoceros that drank port wine.

Luckily for me, that did the trick, because he blinked twice at me, staring at nothing in particular in raw bewilderment of the situation.
I’m actually surprised that I was able to do that.

And then he answered. “Well, let’s get that bit of nonsense out of the way. I was impaled on a long piece of steel pipe through the chest and left to die by Nightmare Moon, then my unconscious bleeding self was brought to a Xingese doctor to fix my insides and some of my outsides. And finally, my apartment was set ablaze by the very ponies that broke Nightmare Moon herself out of the moon. I, as a result, have been spending the last eight months in recovery and hiding. So how has your life been recently?”

I didn’t even notice that my mouth was hanging open when he stopped. Oh, sweet Celestia, that sounded filthy when I thought about it.

“Holy shit!” Sorry, but what response would you expect from me? That was freaking insane! If it weren’t for the fact that he said it with such a straight face, that I had already read about his apartment being set on fire in the paper, and that he was listed on the obituary, I probably would have told him to stuff it up his tail hole.

With that, he hoofed a small bag of bits to the mare that I presumed to be his partner, and with a less than cheerful expression. Did they seriously place a bet at my reaction? Was that some sort of sick joke!?

He continued on. “All right, Miss Heartstrings; that said, I’m going to have to tell you that I’m in the middle of a rather important job. But judging from your profession, and who you associate with, and the letter you sent when you burned my card, you know something that would prove crucial as evidence, meaning that both your case and the one I’m currently working on, are intertwined.” He knew more than I thought; at that moment, I considered that it could actually work to my advantage. Maybe I was wrong, but it was worth the shot.

“This means that we have a common problem,” I said with confidence, though truth be told, I was just being optimistic.

“A problem that I’m currently dealing with. So tell me, do you want to participate in this little crusade?” he said with a glint in his eye.

“When do I start?” I said, ready to see where this would take me.

“Oh, this is going to be one for the ages,” his now more enthusiastic partner said with the sort of cheeriness that I would never expect in this situation.

Folklore, though, had a grin that could scare a full grown Dire-Wolf with its apparent thirst for blood. And with that, he said, “Let us begin then.”

I knew at that moment that my fate was sealed.
> Chapter XII: Interview With Sunlight Regarding the Moonlight
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Fourth month, day four of year 1 L.R.
Canterlot Castle, Celestial Archives Spire, 7:23 AM

It was early by the standards of most ponies. And at the time, I was a mess. My mane was disheveled, a faint surgery scar ran through my chest and belly, and I was devoid of any formal clothing. I would never dare meet a mare for breakfast in this state, much less one of the most, if not the most beautiful, not to mention a mare that is the highest authority in the land.

Speaking of which, Princess Celestia herself was sitting in front of me. We were sharing a small tea table made of some really expensive looking mahogany with a dark varnish. And she was sipping her well-earned Albion imported black tea using a fine Yixing porcelain tea cup. I, on the other hoof, had difficulty even lifting mine. Normally I would have asked for coffee instead, but considering my position, a beggar can’t be a chooser.

We were in the Celestial Archives, Celestia's personal records and collection of tomes dating back a good five hundred years. This bastion of knowledge sat atop the tallest spire in Canterlot Castle. It was actually quite the magnificent sight, if I dare say so myself.

But me and the fair lady of the sun were not alone. Around us were about twenty-three agents of the Equestrian Civil Service. They were bureaucrats, but decent bureaucrats, essentially the only bureaucrats that I was capable of tolerating.

About six of them were managing three makeshift radio equipment stations, receiving and broadcasting what I can only discern as Steady Code.

There were four lovely secretaries typing away their logs next to the radio teams. (Two zebras, a pegasus and a unicorn, all mares, if you were asking.)

Seven telepathic Earthen Psychics, all mares, around both me and Celestia, ready to discern the truth and the lies of anything I might say, all sitting on the marble floor in meditative positions, their eyes glowing an unnatural white. They were clad in white cloaks with flaming runes surrounding their seating areas.

Behind Celestia herself was the grey, black and slightly wild-maned, and golden-eyed Secretary of the Equestrian Government, Dotted Hieronymus Line. He was a short fellow, not exceedingly so, but certainly for the standards of a northern unicorn. He was middle-aged, probably pushing his fifties, he had a thick coat as expected of his blood ancestry and bags under his eyes much like my own. He had the piercing eyes of a stallion that is increasingly frustrated by the idiocy that surrounds him.

Give it a couple of decades, this was what awaited me.

He was accompanied by a couple of the Hearth’s Warming ornaments that are usually referred to as the Aerial Royal Guard, in all their golden-looking enchanted brass armor and white coat-giving enchanted helmet glory. The slight ear flicker on the one on the left was an indication against my presence (Royal Guards are trained to control all their facial expressions to the most minute detail; a slip up like that is an indication of some serious aggression). Understandable, really, I wouldn’t have liked me either in their position.

After a few minutes of awkward tea drinking and Mr. Line noting the time on his own fob, Princess Celestia addressed me with her concerns.

“It’s been a long time, Folklore, how has Compass been doing?”

“With all due respect, your Royal Highness, Father has left to the Celtic wilderness in the Old World a good fifteen years ago. If he isn’t dead, he is probably consulting with the ancient Fay, unaware of the passing of time. Not to mention we haven’t spoken since mother passed,” I replied as a matter of fact. Princess Celestia should already have known about this, though.

“That is strange; he has been sending a barrel of blood mead every year since then. I figured that the rumors of his disappearance were greatly exaggerated, most likely by himself, and that you two stayed in touch. He has said many things about your exploits after all.” 

Well, it seems he was at the time; only father would give Princess Celestia blood mead. That ancient brew is her highness's favorite, which is something that most don’t know and assume that Celestia is exclusively a wine drinker because of her royal status. But blood mead is a dead recipe from an ancient age; only a versed scholar like Father could have known how to make it, or more likely, he simply has been sending Celestia Fay-brewed stock. Oh, and before you start developing that pale look on your face, don’t worry; blood mead is only red because of the plentiful use of red gooseberry. Nothing nefarious, I can assure ya lot of that.

“Ah, figures.” If you are asking why I didn’t worry for my father's safety, or why in fact I barely gave a damn about it, it’s because he started teaching me the ways of magic since I was four. And he didn’t believe in watering down the terrors of the reality of the world, no matter my age at the time. He also frequently scared me straight every time I was out of line, and he was a harsh quarterstaff teacher.

Long story short, he was a formidable stallion who was never quite satisfied with what I did my life and often mocked me.
In the long run, we only learned to be civil towards each other out of a mutual understanding that he did intend the best for me; that and him finally admitting that he was proud of me after I finished that Doctor of Philosophy in Chemistry.

“You should have more faith in him, Folklore; it’s possible that he previously arranged the yearly shipment before he left.” The Princess did have a point; he wouldn't consciously disappear for a year without a reason. But considering that I was a grown stallion and he was a Magus with a life expectancy of one hundred and eighty years, I probably shouldn’t have even been giving a damn.

“I’ll take that into consideration, your highness,” I said with a bit of regret, not much I could do about it. Maybe being with the Fay would be a blessing compared to the madness that came after.

“But I have to ask, Folklore, how is it that you came in contact with my sister?” she asked with genuine concern; probably the reason she brought the telepaths.

“Well, where do I start?”
______________________________________________________________________________
One Week Before

That night, it was raining both softly and out of schedule, not to mention that the magic surrounding the clouds wasn't that of the labor of several pegasi, but of a single as-yet unidentified individual. It was a massive out-pour of magic, so much so that the pain forced me to start popping three aspirins into my mouth while heading in the direction of where it was coming from.

I could feel a sort of sadness from it, like something was lost, or there was something that was greatly missed.

As I headed through the crowded streets, ignoring the soaking state of my coat and hat, the cold, and the fact that I was going against the direction of the crowd, I saw a tall figure by the Neo-Classical Equestrian-style electric lamp on the corner. 

It was in the Clover plaza in the Commercial District, where the three-hundred-year-old marble fountain stood. You know the one, Princess, the one that was made in honor of Clover the Clever; you did help build it after all.

The figure was leaning against it, and as I got closer I could hear light sobbing, and it very much sounded like that of a mare. I stopped, simply deciding to sit next to her, and judging by the way that I felt that she was looking at me, she noticed my approach.
I decided to speak and see if I could get an answer.

“I know it must be hard to live with that ache. That weight in your heart that tells you how much of a monster you are. That you barely deserve to live, unworthy of forgiveness, and unworthy of love. That the blood cannot be completely washed off your hooves, no matter how hard you try.”

All I heard then is the sound of the drops hitting the cobblestone and odd form of pseudo-silence. But one much more relaxing than true silence; the kind of silence that tells you that the world is not right.

I then got back up on all fours and approached, wrapping my coat around her. “In the right pocket is my card; if you need anything, make sure to burn it.” With that said, I trotted back to the shop, ready for a hot shower and a bit of canned onion soup, thinking that it probably had been a waste of my time to give her the card. And that was a perfectly good coat to boot. I thought that I probably wasn’t going to see it again. Getting the money for a new one required a job, which I lacked. So in the end, it would probably have been for nothing.
> Chapter XIII: A War of Monsters
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Back Again

“You were able to identify my sister by the volume of magic you were sensing? It could have been me sobbing by the fountain,” Celestia said, probing me for additional details; might as well not hold anything back.

“To be fair, your highness, it’s because it was painful to follow that aura.”

Celestia raised an eyebrow at me. I figured that I should continue explaining.

“Your aura has been around us since Equestria was united a little over a thousand years ago; even those with ethereal senses as sharp as mine are used to your presence, we have been with it since we were born after all. Your younger sister, Luna, on the other hoof, has been missing for over a thousand years. That is over ten generations without her around; at that point even our blood has forgotten how her aura feels.

“Because of this, any with sharp ethereal senses within Canterlot is going to have to take--at minimum--an aspirin every morning to deal with her presence. In addition to that, her emotional breakdown caused an unscheduled change in the weather. Most would think that there was a mixup in the local weather team schedule. I, on the other hoof, could tell that it was something else merely by the fact that the magic that was flooding the air felt much the same as the magic that was poking me at the back of my mind ever since I moved here. And with my curiosity piqued, I just followed the flow of magic to its source.”

Celestia then did something interesting. I would have expected her to call me out on tracking down her family, but instead what I got was actually something quite pleasant to my eyes: a smirk.

“I can see that Luna hasn’t lost her touch; she definitely still knows how to pick them,” Celestia said with a slight air of relief and happiness before taking a small sip from her teacup.

That left an interesting piece of inquiry. Who did she mean? Was she referring to the Knights of Ironclad by any chance? I actually didn’t think that I would be worthy to be considered in the same vein as them back then; in fact my exact thoughts at the time were Is this what flattery feels like? Maybe I still was asleep, and that was nothing but a sweet dream? As demented as that sounds to some now, flattery was something that I spent a better part of a couple of years without hearing back then. It felt nice.

“Now, Folklore, while that was interesting, you are avoiding the question. You told me how you found my sister; I asked how you met her,” Celestia said; she was more curious now. “And please, Folklore, don’t skip on the details. I need to know your thoughts on my sister,” Celestia continued with a slight probing intent. Well…

“All right, your highness. Can’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Naturally she raised her eyebrow once more at that.
______________________________________________________________________________
The Next Afternoon After the Encounter
Pages & Stories Bookshop
< > Translated from Ancient Celtic

Last night, I had given my overcoat to a really tall and obscenely magically powerful mare. I hadn’t seen her face. But I heard her voice, and it sounded like fine honey being served on a silver dish placed on a silk tablecloth.

At the time, I was sitting behind the front desk reading a copy of the Canterlot Chronicler, basically just looking for anything that might have been odd, especially in the obituaries, when all of the sudden the front door opened and she entered.

She trotted in like a lioness stalking a gazelle in the Zebrican savannah. Her mane was like the clear midnight sky in the desert, with constellations and majesty that put even star charts to shame, flowing on the unseen breeze of ether. She had legs for eons, and her figure was worthy of her title of goddess, her eyes were a haunting turquoise that told stories of a thousand woes and triumphs, and her fur was a midnight blue that one could easily confuse for the void of the night sky. Her regalia was made out of black cassiterite, and the crescent moon on her choker was made out of polished silver.

She then turned to me, looking at me in such a way that I actually felt that she was sizing me up. Probably was, considering who we are talking about.

It was haunting how beautiful she was, almost surreal.

“Who are you?” I ended up spouting under my breath. I have to admit that at the time, no one had taken a photograph of Princess Luna in any of the news articles that featured her. So in the end, I had no idea what she looked like. I could tell by the magic she was emitting that she was divine in nature, though I could not place who she was for the life of me. Was she Selene, maybe Artemis? No, both of these goddesses have been long dead in the Old World; if either of them were in hiding before, their resurgence in the world would have been too large of a fiasco to hide. This was somepony new, or at least new to me.

<“We have come to return what was loaned to us,”> she said flatly. She then materialized a coat out of thin air with the smoky residual of her aura trailing off it--my black woolen overcoat.

She then unceremoniously dropped it on my desk. Luckily, that brought me back to the land of the living.

<“Your majesty, I apologize for not recognizing you. I suspected that the ether outpour of the last couple of days was of your doing, but truth be told I wasn’t sure. I have to say that the descriptions that historians have written about you don’t quite give you justice,”> I said with nervous haste. In truth, I was doing everything I could not stutter.

<“How so? If it be true, thee giveth us details about their mistakes describing our own complexion, then we can ask our own sister to revise the legitimacy of such descriptions,”> she said with genuine curiosity, probably thinking that the records were so terribly written that they missed the mark. Being bold and probably suicidal, I decided to tell her the truth. I calmed down. Figured I would die with some pride.

<“No need your majesty, I am simply trying to say that a poet is a pony with a far better aptitude to describe you than a scribe. I’ve never met a mare as beautiful as you. You are closer to a sublime force of nature made flesh than the maiden that the Monks of Antioch depicted in their encounter with you. You would think that a bunch of isolated stallion sorcerers would practically worship you and start performing blood sacrifices in your name just to keep you in their presence.”> That or the monks had reached enlightenment, and such attachments were long severed within them. I wasn’t really going to figure out which. 

<“Sorry to say this, but nothing shall come from thy fair words, magus.”> Well that was surprising for me at the time. She wasn’t angry. From there I started counting my blessings. Who knew when my luck would run out? There I decided to set my newspaper aside. I was groomed and wearing a shirt and vest, so I had no problem with looking at her straight in the eye, those eyes that were equal parts wrathful intent and melancholy.

<“Right, enough small talk, you came here in the open. You used no shapeshifting, and no hypnosis of any sort, didn’t you? You were observing, getting a feel for their reaction to your mere presence trotting through the city, weren’t you?”> She looked at me like I grew a second head. I decided to continue.

<“Don’t be so surprised. Since I awoke from near death, I have been reading on the legends surrounding you; my little comment on the Monks of Antioch should have given it away.”> There was a pang of guilt there; not obvious, but it was there. I decided to continue to press on.

<“Princess, who are you looking for that you feel the need to use your presence as bait?”> I was going for the jugular here.

<“Those who dare to use the Nightmare, those who dared to bring such a monster back from the dark, and as a result, made us remember and gaze at our deeds as such a horrid creature!”> She said, practically yelling at me. I may have gone too far, but I needed to know that we were on the same page.

<“We know this may be too much of a task to labor for the monster that nearly killed thee and hath left thee to rot. But we ask of thee, as thy princess, we ask thee with purpose and conviction to plunge into the abyss, learn their names and find those vermin. For steel is the only justice we have, and the only justice we shall give,”> she said, this time with a somber tone; the sort of tone that runs a chill up your spine in its certainty and impact, much like a declaration of war.

I trotted away from the front desk and looked to the ceiling. I was contemplating what she said, thinking on my next move.

<“You are not Nightmare Moon, you were a hostage that I failed to set free. And for that I am sorry, my failure is inexcusable,”> I said to let my thoughts be known. I could feel her eyes at the back of my head, her will practically radiating from her very core.

I continued. <“But if you need a monster to be at your beck and call, I will be that monster; I will help you carry that burden. We will use our blood, treasure, and skill, not for glory but for revenge. That is something that you must become comfortable with if you consider this lowly sorcerer worthy of the task.”>

And from there I brought the papers, and we sealed our contract in blood. And that, your highness, is your answer.
> Chapter XIV: Alliances in Blueblood Hunting
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Back Once More
________________________________________________________

The room was silent like a graveyard, my words sounding like the distant thunder of a coming storm giving them a thousand promises of madness and calamity. I had just confessed to making a blood oath to a mission of vengeance. Not only was it something greatly frowned upon, but also, I had done so with a figure from legend who also happened to be the younger sibling of Princess Celestia. This was the kind of confession that would get you jailed.

I waited for Celestia’s answer. It didn’t take long for her to say something, but waiting for it was torturous. It was like being in a guillotine while the executioner was deciding whether or not to do his job that day.

“I thought that all of the ponies involved during the summoning were used as material to create Nightmare Moon’s new body. How could the ones responsible still be out there?” Celestia said, surprised that it was her sister that demanded such a thing.

“Because Luna knows, Princess; she saw it all, and I was there as well. That scar on the right side of my chest just underneath the fur should tell you that I was there. I saw the face of the stallion that willingly led his brethren to the slaughter. The one that wore the Sonnenrad around his neck; and he is known to all of you as Arpeggio Philharmonic.” That did it…

The room turned cold. The sounds of the Civil Service bureaucrats milling about their business with their assigned tasks turned into a complete absence of sound. Every eye in the room stared at me as if I had declared that the world was flat and that the moon was made out of cheese.

Celestia then looked to the Civil Service telepaths and saw with surprise that all of them were crying. They were silent, but the tears in their eyes were unmistakable.

And I felt a pang of guilt for them having to channel my emotions during that time. Having to channel the grief that I feel every time I stare at a Sonnenrad, the memories of the deaths of my friends, how the world feels incomplete without them, and how their sacrifice gave the world a bit more time. How they stopped something long forgotten and buried from making its way back into the world, a world that has long forgotten its presence. A world that cannot even begin to fathom what lies buried in the depths of the earth and time and cannot survive facing what we knew was buried there. What we knew of wanted the world back in its grasp, and that all that have claimed that world in their absence shall perish in their resurgence; a foundation of bones for the reconstruction of the first empire and a feast of souls for the first tyrant. Trust me when I say that in comparison, Nightmare Moon would have been seen as a saint.  

I did my best to hide it every day; I couldn’t afford to let it out. I had to bottle it up, keep it from coming to the surface and bring attention to myself, but to empathic telepaths? They might as well have been there themselves. They weren’t sobbing, nor were they bawling. They were looking to the ceiling with their eyes staring into something far beyond their sight, their mouths agape in horror, and their tears still running down their cheeks.

I felt terrible; had I had time to build up my usual mental barriers, they wouldn’t have had to see it. I was having a hard time keeping the mask of aloofness on myself, but somehow I managed to keep it on.

Witnessing this with surprise and worry, Princess Celestia said the following.

“Folklore, can you tell me what just happened?”

I replied in kind. “The memories regarding Nightmare Moon’s summoning are connected to my memories regarding the deaths of Savage, Wrench, and Yip, Princess. Considering that it was the same group that was responsible for both, it’s possible that your telepaths stumbled into the latter rather than the former.” Even while saying that, I noticed that my body was slightly shaking at my own thoughts on the experience. I picked up my tea and took a sip from it, the shaking of my right forehoof causing some of it to spill on my fur. I barely noticed, though, considering that I was too distracted with my own memories festering in my mind like an infection.

Celestia herself, though, was looking at me with a look of genuine pity. This should not have been a surprise; she already knew what happened and she helped us cover up the incident, after all. Not to mention that she was really fond of Wrench; not many can say that they were in a romantic relationship with a demi-goddess, but Wrench could. Not that he ever did; only a self-absorbed jerk off would kiss and tell. How is it that I know, though? Sorry, but have you met me? All it took was me seeing them in the same room together to figure it out.

And as I was having rather nostalgic thoughts on one of my deceased friends, Celestia decided to acquire my attention once more.

“Folklore, are you trying to tell me that Dr. Reanimator is still alive?”

I waited a moment to gather my answer. This was a sensitive subject after all.

“Your highness, I killed him…I ripped open his chest cavity, shoved a grenade next to his heart, and threw him into the horde of monstrosities below. I saw the scatter of fire, crimson blood, flesh, bone fragments, and the shredded remains of entrails. I saw as the abominations that had long been trapped in the derelict remains of the first empire being reduced to a similar reddish paste of amalgamated body arts and pain. I even saw as more creatures swarmed in and feasted on both the Reanimator and their brethren alike in a savage frenzy of bloodthirst and ravenous madness.”  

I said it was a sensitive subject, not that I was going to redact from what occurred. Though considering the colorful detail that I used to describe how I did it, I should have expected what happened next.

Dotted Line and the Royal Guards took a step back; the rest had a look of obvious anxiety, one pegasus secretary reaching for the knife she kept under her desk. Interestingly, Celestia remained calm, and the telepaths were slowly recovering from their shock, which was something that actually brought a bit of a relief to me. I already had enough crap that I was ashamed of, I didn’t need to add mentally crippling seven innocent mares to the list.

Though Dotted Line had a few choice words. “You just confessed to murder, Lore! Not to mention vigilante activity and possession of illegal weapons even by the standards of your Hunter License.” He then turned to Celestia, wearing a pleading expression on his face. “Princess, I beg of you to at the very least send this madpony to an asylum; it would be a mercy compared to the execution that would await him if we didn’t take into account his special circumstances.” By special circumstances, he meant self-defense and a possible end-of-the-world scenario.

Celestia then spoke; it was actually a surprise to me that she would show me mercy. I thought that she would let me finish the case and then send me to Granite Grind Prison off the coast of Los Fairies in western Equestria. But she said next was the really surprising part.

“Don’t bother, Line, he and the rest of Dr. Savage’s aides were in the Hollow Earth with Savage himself. They were beyond any international treaty or Equestrian law, to begin with. Not to mention that Reanimator’s crimes ranged from unscrupulous experimentation to murder, rape, and cannibalism. Even if Reanimator hadn’t already mutated himself into some sort of monstrosity, he was hardly a pony, to begin with. More like another monster wearing equine skin.” After she was done she looked at me straight in the eye. “Please, Folklore, continue.”

I regained my composure and did as I was told. “Thank you. As I was saying, the probability that he is still around are almost none, but the reason that I was hospitalized here last night was because I was dealing with his work on magic and something that defies reason: a creature that is neither a spirit, a fay, nor a demon, yet has abilities and weaknesses from the previous three. I’m keeping it sealed in a whiskey bottle that I placed in a rune-reinforced iron box in Uncle Archive’s closet. It may indicate something worse is on the horizon, Princess, not to mention that Madam Octavia’s Cello was radiating something equally menacing.”

There are things that have been living in the shadows with nothing but dust to sustain them. They want their world back, and we cannot do anything to stop them. – The Last Merlin, Starswirl of Celtica
> Chapter XV: Sweet Illusion of Undeserving Bliss
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Her majesty Celestia looked at me for a second, her expression blank and focused. Then she took another sip from her black tea that time, though she added honey and a bit of what I can only guess is brandy that came from the ceramic bottle she summoned out of Hammerspace. I’m actually impressed that she knew such modern spellcraft.

“So, you are saying that the evidence of these claims are in this ‘shop’ and that, if we can get that under a microscope, then it can be determined that the Philharmonic family is guilty of using dangerous magic against their only daughter?”
I hunched at the table, look at her in the eye and said, “Aye”.

She set her cup down and took in a deep breath. She then decided to get up, the entire room became more silent as she did so.
I then felt somepony grab a hold of me and give me a full bear hug.

It was one of the telepaths; she got behind me while I was distracted and decided that I needed one apparently. It may be strange to see another pony doing that during this type of situation but a telepath is, in a way, forced to empathize with those that they read, due to the instinctual nature of their power.

Most ponies would assume that telepathy is something that would come out of a unicorn spell. But in reality it’s an ability that can appear on any pony regardless of race. And Earthen telepaths are actually some of the strongest due to the instinctual nature of Earthen Magic; it is a double edged sword, though. Because it’s instinctual, they can’t really turn it off, at least not completely; they have to train to filter out any unnecessary foreign thoughts or else they would go insane from the sensory overload of feeling, seeing, and smelling the memories of all the ponies around them.

Their rarity and the difficulty of their training is what kept the concept of investigation to still exist actually. Telepaths would have replaced every detective in existence otherwise.

Though I wouldn’t wish anypony to hold my old job; ask any of the telepaths that interrogated me that day. They got a taste of the sort of madness that I had gone through; this is the work of ponies that are not sound of mind.

I held her left hoof while I took in a deep breath; I then decided that it was best that I got up as well, considering that Princess Celestia was already out the door and looking down at the city from the balcony.

As the telepath was still reading my mind at that point, she let me go before I could say a word. She stepped back and I got up and I headed after Celestia with as much calm as possible.

I looked at Celestia as she sat on her haunches, contemplating what I could only assume at the time was the situation. Her prism-like mane of flowing ether and the alabaster color of her fur complemented each other surprisingly well with her gold regalia; not to mention the fact that her figure was quite befitting of a goddess, especially from the back.

I audibly gulped before continuing to her side. I sat to her right and looked at her face; tears were flowing down from her magenta eyes, sorrow written all over her face. One can only imagine what she thought back then, of her citizens, or her family, of all efforts she had put forth.

In the end she was the most powerful pony in the world, yet she could do nothing but watch as the ponies that she swore to protect spit in the face of everything she had ever worked for.

That, to me, was the final straw; they abused their own child, incinerated my apartment, slaughtered my friends, and they made the most beautiful mare in the world cry. With that in mind I came to a resounding conclusion.

I need my rifle.

But then I mentally kicked myself in the back of the head; the princesses are suspects. Celestia could have properly arranged the transportation of the stars to Equestria, simply do nothing and wait for the Thule to try and release Nightmare Moon, and finally have an opportunity to release her sister.

But then I kept looking, and then I realized that while she is intelligent and powerful enough in every sense of the word, it would have simply been simpler to try and get the artifacts herself, use them, and then find a loophole around the sacrifice requirement.

In the end, she is Celestia.

And if she was a detached monster interested only in her own benefit, she would have stayed in her birth land of Gaul with Luna and taken over the place with an iron hoof and an unhinged taste for vindictive slaughter. Especially considering the facts that their neighbors declared both Celestia and Luna witches due to them both having a horn and wings, were sold into slavery before they could use their full power, and since they were developing into the most beautiful mares in history, you can unfortunately guess what kind.

We should count ourselves lucky that Starswirl got to them before anything unsavory happened.

If you are asking how in Tartarus and the Nine Circles of Sheol I know this, you can blame A.K. Yearling for that.

“Folklore, are you all right?” Celestia asked, noticing that I was no longer on Earth. Some tears were still visible on her face.

So I answered. “Sorry, I got lost in my thoughts. I think that it’s best if I prepared to leave. I don’t think that it’s wise for me to take any more of yer time.”

She then just hugged me out of nowhere, telling me, “Just call me Celestia, you brilliant idiot.”

I felt my cheeks redden at the sudden turn of events. I wasn’t sure if she should even do this out in the open, or if I even was worthy of the affection.

So I said probably one of the stupidest things I have ever said in my life.

“Prin- I mean Celestia, ya can let me go now.”

She then let me go and then did her best to straighten herself out. I noticed that I was bare of my woolen long coat so I looked to my left to see a dumbfounded bureaucrat with a rather nice hoofkerchief in his left suit pocket; frankly I didn’t know if my access to the ether had returned but I decided to telekinetically take that hoofkerchief, and to my surprise, it actually flew out of that pocket and smacked me straight in the face.

I then took it and gave it to Princess Celestia. I know it’s a tad silly, but leaving an upset mare without a hoofkerchief is something that I couldn’t really sit right with. If I didn’t provide one to a crying mare in front of me, I felt like my mother would somehow manifest herself from the grave and smack me in the back of the head for being an inconsiderate moron.

“Here, you should probably wipe the tears; ye have a country to rule after all.”

She did as I said and once she was done she folded it neatly and trotted back to the table with it floating by her side. I looked back to the poor stallion I stole that from, a certain Dotted Hieronymus Line. He was staring at me with a blank expression, but I could tell something more than just contempt was there, judging by the subtle glint in his eye. 

He was wearing a rather neat wine red jacket with a silk cravat hiding what I can only guess is his service medallion. He looked at me and, with his golden aura, he telekinetically pulled a simple wooden pipe from his jacket along with a small box of safety matches and some tobacco. 

As soon as he placed the tobacco in the pipe, I pyrokinetically lit it before he could use his matches, slightly startling him.

“I know it’s not my place to say, but pyrokinesis is faster, and due to the ether’s immaterial nature, it has no flavor, unlike the matches you were about to use. I think it helps with the quality of the tobacco.”

He took a drag for a second, nodded with approval, and then talked to me.

“I won’t say that I don’t appreciate the courtesy, but I would have liked a warning first.”

I couldn’t help but smirk slightly; this was rather entertaining.

“I should probably also thank ye for lending me your hoofkerchief.” 

He raised his eyebrow at me for that one; he then exhaled a puff of smoke. This was going to be fun.

“Careful, Lore, you know what was said about Icarus.”

I shot back in haste. Icarus never knew what he was dealing with anyway. I, on the other hoof, had an idea. 

“I fancy myself as more of a Daedalus, maybe an Odysseus.”

Then we heard the hoofsteps of a certain solar divine, causing us both to look behind us.

“As much as I enjoy watching you two bonding, I believe you both have work to do.”

We both looked at Princess Celestia incredulously. I felt like breaking the awkwardness since I saw no need to make her feel uncomfortable. 

“Right, I’ll head out then.”

I begin to trot in the direction of the door before been stopped by one of the telepaths. She then took off her cloak to reveal that she was white, blond, and a long-haired earthen. She stared through me with cold blue eyes.

“Henri wants to see you.”

That was the telepathic message she gave to me. A mental image of it written down in plain ol’ ink and paper. I couldn’t help but smirk; something was actually going my way on that venture. I winked her way and headed through the door with a newfound swagger.

I was sure that I could finally do it, get Arpeggio in hoof-cuffs and have him tried publicly, his crimes exposed, his fellow Thule Esoteric Order brothers found, identified and vulnerable, make the whole thing a spectacle, as to let the aristocrats and the mad sorcerers know that they have no sway on the world anymore, and let them know that their dream of a unicorn ruled world was about as ludicrous as a tyrannical Celestia. A more primal part of me demanded that I take Arpeggio's head and then have the rest of his body hanging in front of the Philharmonic Hall, but I wasn’t going to do that.

That was a good high; I wished that I could have kept it going. 

I was greeted by one of Celestia’s maids as she held a brown duffel bag in her mouth; it looked like one of mine, so I immediately took it off her hooves, or in this case mouth. 

I shamelessly trotted past her without so much as a thought, only for her to quickly catch up with me. At the time, I simply thought that she wasn’t going to have any of my attitude. 

“Hey, stop! Do you even know where you are going? I’m supposed to escort you to your room.” 

I looked back reacting to the sound of her voice. Truth be told I was confused, I was planning on heading straight to the shop. 

“I think ya maybe confusing me for somepony else, sweetheart, though I can’t see how. Last I checked vagabonds aren't exactly allowed in here.” 

I looked at her green eyes, sandy-yellow color, and her seafoam mane with renewed interest, mainly in that she looked like she was slightly confused about what I said. 

“Aren’t you Arcanum Folklore? Princess Luna’s guest? She gave me orders to show you one of the diplomatic guest rooms.” 

Given that she said my name and that she had a nervous look on her face, I concluded that she was new to working in Canterlot. But what she said gave me alarm because no-pony was supposed to know that I even knew Princess Luna. Though Celestia figured that out; she already knew me previously, and more importantly, she was Luna’s older sister; as such, she knew her better than anypony else at the time, so that gave her the means to figure out that it was Luna that hired me. 

I had no reason to believe the maid at first about her orders, but that look on her face and the tone of her voice told me that at least she thought that her orders were real. So at the very least, I still had to follow her to see who knew my connection to Luna, and if it was actually Luna that ordered her to fetch me, I had to talk to as to why she needed me to be away from my evidence and my personal library. 

“Aye, I am. I apologize for not telling ya who I was earlier, I’m not exactly at liberty to talk.”

She groaned slightly, giving me that ‘I’m not paid enough for this crap’ expression that one encounters so frequently in everyday life. Not that I blame her; having to deal with a smelly, crazed stallion must have been the last thing she expected to do at around eight-forty AM in the morning. 

“Just follow me and don’t wander off.” 

And so I did. Despite the fact that I was surrounded by beautiful art, exquisite architecture, and the sound of chirping mockingbirds, I was focused on another piece of exquisite architecture. Also, by ‘exquisite architecture’ I meant that particular maid’s round and well-sculpted arse that was still visible despite the rather conservative and professional maid attire she was wearing. 

I’ll be the first one to admit that me staring was probably due to the fact that I denied myself any tail over the last year and beyond. But it probably also had to do with the newfound pep in my step that I felt the moment I left the Celestial Archive. I shouldn’t have been feeling that well. Fucking Tartarus, I should have died back there. Yet I was feeling like I’d drank a whole mug of coffee, not to mention that I suddenly felt fifteen years younger. 

I wasn’t exactly middle-aged being thirty-five back then, but the war, the adventures with Bronze Savage, my detective work, and my occult dealings and investigation had really taken its mental and physical toll on me. Yet at that moment, I felt as fresh as when I first started, which, instead of being a source of joy, perplexed and worried me. When did I make a deal for something like that? And what was it that I agreed in exchange for it? Knowing many a demon, fay, and decaying half dead gods, the price couldn’t have been cheap. The price probably hadn’t even been paid yet, and there was the possibility that it was something that I never knew that I had in the first place. Not to mention the fact that I didn’t remember a thing.

“You're being pretty quiet back there,” the maid with the seafoam mane and green eyes told me as she looked back at me with her sandy-yellow face. She was giving me that tilted inquisitive look for a second there as we kept trotting. 

“Sorry sweetheart, I was lost in thought. Though I thought that ya maids preferred to avoid talking with guests. Considering how most high-class guests usually look at ya as furniture rather than another pony.” 

I’ll admit that I was grasping at straws, but let’s face it, if anything is universally common around the world, it’s the higher class’ contempt for the working class. Their pampered silver spoon-fed lives render them incapable of comprehending what real labor is like. Sure that is not true everywhere, but in Canterlot, the stereotype applies to such a degree that it can practically be considered parody. And ya lot were wondering why I would destroy Canterlot if I could get away with it? That is one of the reasons. 

Honestly, one week of planning, bomb making, and me placing a bomb on each of the Magical Anchors is all I would have had to do to achieve that. But alas, one cannot make the entire city pay for the sins of its wealthiest; it’s not exactly sane. 

Funny how Canterlot’s unique brand of corruption keeps crime hidden away and ignored so that it can always claim to be the most peaceful city in Equestria, but in reality it’s not that much better off than Manehattan; of course, that is probably because the common Manehattanite back then was more interested in actually solving a problem rather than keeping their property values up.

“You are not exactly giving me the impression of a socialite, or a noble, not even a foreign one. Your accent sounds like it’s from the Celtic Isles, but some of your vocabularies is undoubtedly Equestrian.” She was curious, so I saw no harm in making conversation. 

“And ya would be correct me, lass. I’m actually from Manehattan, and ye could argue that I’m just a Consultant Sorcerer of sorts. I’ve been on hard times, so I was relieved that the princesses gave me some honest work. I had a bit of an incident last night with some me commissioned research materials, so I barely made it out alive. Her Royal Highness just had me join her breakfast to make sure that I can continue working. As for me accent, that’s real, lassy. I’m of Celtic descent.” It was barely a half-truth but it should have been good enough to sate her curiosity.

“So you are just one of the scientists that the princess likes to throw grants to when she catches wind of research she likes. That does explain the stubble; I imagine that you barely get to leave the lab for any social outings, so you don’t bother much with appearances. Doesn’t explain the toned muscles though.” 

She spoke that last sentence almost as a whisper, but I still heard it. I couldn’t help but think mischievously. But then I reminded myself that I was in the middle of a job and that my last relationship ended with me having to talk to Redheart about ending it for her own happiness and future, and I went from having a wolfish smirk to a somber scowl in less than a few seconds.

She didn’t see that as we kept trotting, as she was actually paying attention to where she was going. 

“My name is actually Sea Sandstone Cove; normally we maids don’t talk to guests, but the way that I see it, us who serve the princesses should stick together. They may pay well and have the best of intentions, but it doesn’t mean that they won't work us ragged. Am I right?” Sandstone was pretty playful for a maid, though she was young; from her looks and attitude, I would say twenty-five at most. Though she was no child; that was certainly true. How she got one of my duffle bags was a bit of a mystery, but it’s possible that whoever brought me to the medical wing in the castle brought with them one of my duffle bags with spare clothes and ammo. 

“Well Ms. Cove, I personally couldn’t agree more. Though call me surprised, what is a west coast pony like ya doing in Canterlot--not that I’m one to talk considering me own birthplace on the east coast. But Canterlot is the last place that you would expect to see a mare like yourself.” Say what you will, but Canterlot’s anal retentiveness is something that I can barely stomach; a west coast mare like her must have found it maddening when she first came to the city. 

“Well, what if I told you that Princess Celestia herself sent me a letter with an airship ticket, and interviewed me herself the moment I got out of the airstrip? As it turns out, we met when she went to Los Alicorn to see what a film studio looks like, I was working as a stagehoof and we managed to get into a rather riveting conversation on how I needed a higher paying job; after she left I thought that would be the last I would see of our illustrious ruler until I got the letter.” What did I tell you? Celestia isn't a manipulative tyrant. Take it from somepony that has seen his number of conspiracies, I know a real one when I see it. 

“Oh, and we’re here.” She said that as she stopped and turned around. 

I tried my best to fake a smile as a bit of an attempt at being polite. “Ye think I can see ye later, sweetheart?” 

She gave me a genuine smile, not the kind that they teach ya to fake in Castle Maid Training for delegates, nobles, and diplomats, but an actual smile as an actual show of affection. “Sorry, I can’t guarantee that. But I’ll talk to the princess to see I can have some time off.” She accented that with a wink as she opened the door for me; I trotted through and then I heard the sound of the doorknobs click behind me. I looked back to notice that the door was closed, and I still had the duffle bag floating beside me. 

Shame I couldn't gallop away with that lass. Me sense of responsibility wouldn't let me.
> Chapter XVI: Reality of Horrors
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

After a sigh, I turned around to look at Bloody Merry herself lying comfortably on her side on the luxurious-looking white queen-sized bed reading some files, this time wearing her usual black trench coat and seethrough black stocking ensemble. As soon as she noticed me staring, she closed the file placed it on the nightstand. “Don’t be so surprised to see me here. Though I think that we both have some explaining to do, luv’.” 

I dropped the bag on the bed and went to the vacant right side of the bed; I prepared myself mentally for what was to come. 

“Should I start, or do ya want the honors?” 

I heard her take a deep breath, thinking it over. Though the answer didn't take long to come. 

“It’s fine Lore, I think I need to come clean anyway. I started working for Celestia after she discovered I was spying on her. You know the ‘Sun Job’ tradition that Albion has? As expected I failed, and then I just about had it with the Kingdom of Albion. So instead of returning to jolly Albion, I decided to stay here. I even have full citizenship and everything. Celestia had heard that you died, so she had me investigate. It wasn’t until yesterday that I managed to find you. I had to go to Manehattan blind; I was searching for you for months, nopony was willing to sell you out, I would have believed you really did die if I hadn’t checked the morgue to only find a manikin where your cadaver should have been. At some point, your friend Signature Typewriter just decided to just tell me that you were living in Canterlot under the name of Whisper,” I heard her say, almost sounding depressed. She was certainly in a melancholy mood, probably because I nearly died in front of her. I owed her my life, yet I was grimly determined to have my vengeance before I could consider any possibility of a life outside of that. 

“I guess it’s my turn? All right, what do you want to know?” 

I said that thinking about what she would ask if anything. But then I thought that she was simply going to ask me one thing: what happened to me? 

“What happened to you last night? You coughed up a lot of blood, and you looked like you had a magical rebound. I had to get one of your adrenaline shots to get you stabilized long enough to burn a letter to Celestia to send in some medics. When it was Luna that showed up, teleporting into the room to come and get you, I was surprised. She had that look on her face that said that she knew you. She had me gather that duffle bag, and then we all teleported to the Canterlot Castle Medical Wing.” Oh boy, was that tough to explain, but I had to come clean so…

“Princess Luna is the client; I sought her out once I could, and we talked. We had a mutual enemy with the Thule Esoteric Order so she hired me to identify their members, find out where they are, and then join her in hunting them down. We sealed the contract in blood.

“As for what happened last night? I saw something. I saw a tall figure draped in a cloak that switched aimlessly between golden and yellow, floating in the endless void among the stars, as if it was projecting itself from beyond the known expanses of reality; darkness peeked from the robes as I saw a the beginning of an endless amalgamation of shadowy tendrils peeking through the bottom of the cloak. A stone amulet hung in a golden chain from its neck, on it a gold glyph of neither Xing nor Arabic origin, or from any other equine or known mortal language. It was mesmerizing and inexplicable. As I tried and failed to compare it with anything else I had seen before, no Hyborian or Sumerian script matched. And then I noticed that that figure had been looking down the whole time, and then when it looked to me I saw a blank white porcelain mask featureless but slightly cracked. Then it continued to crack more until finally, it exploded revealing…”

I began to hyperventilate, my blood pumping so fast that I could hear my own heart. I was having a panic attack. And then I spoke again. Celestia I spoke again…

“It was beyond anything I could truly describe! The horror of its inconceivable features were making me sick! Voices from beyond the void of known space yelled to me in over a dozen tongues that I couldn't identify for the love of me! But I could see its intent! It wants to come to our world, it wants to see its sibling dead but dreaming underneath the deepest oceans of our world! I know not why, or how, but everything in my mind and body screamed that it would be the end of us, of everything. This world is not ours, Merry! This world was never ours from the start, we are nothing in the cosmic scale of things, and even the gods of centuries past pale in comparison!

“I knew since childhood of our insignificance, but know I truly have a grasp of the scale! We have to--!” 

And then Merry at some point got on top of me and slapped me out of my madness; my breathing started to calm down, my eyes still wide open now looking to the nightstand to my right. I then looked at her tear-filled hazel eyes on her velvet-red face. Her breathing was rhythmic but slightly panicked. And then she yelled at me, justifyingly so. 

“What in bloody fucking sheol was that!” I looked at her; I did my best to look at her without averting my gaze, no matter how much I wanted too. 

“I-I don’t know, but that was what I saw after I gleaned into Octavia Philharmonic’s mind. I saw her get physically abused by the family that uses her so. Then it jumped to that.” And that was that. I had nothing else to reveal. I stuttered a little but that was all I said to her at that moment. 

Merry then quickly got off the bed and said the following. “I need to leave. I-I need to think.” She then practically galloped out of the room, slamming the door as she left. 

I didn’t know what the fuck was wrong with me back then. But I knew that I stumbled into something beyond my depth, into the first glimpses into the truth of our reality. Suddenly, my vendetta seemed small, insignificant compared to what I had just stumbled into. But I still had a job to do. 

So I got up and I took my duffle bag and I went into the rooms luxurious bathroom located to the left of the bed. I opened my duffle bag to reveal a spare long black woolen overcoat and fedora. I also saw a couple of boxes of .44 bullets, my snubbed-revolver, and my Kurdish dagger. I also saw my straight razor and some shaving soap mix, tied to a small bag with my sanitation kit and a bottle of Opiate Pills.  I figured it was about time I groomed so I got to it.

I got to mixing, the soap with water using the shaving brush and a ceramic bowl that was graciously placed on a pedestal next to the sink. 

I then took the soapy shaving brush and I used it to smother my stubble with the soap mixture. I telekinetically started shaving; it was going well until I started hearing a dozen voices again. My telekinetic grip slipped a bit and I cut my chin, drawing blood. My heart rate began to accelerate again as sweat gathered on my brow as another panic attack began. The blood began to form the glyph that I saw during the astral projection ritual I performed the night before. 

But then I heard the discharge of magic on the room through the closed door of the bathroom. And I snapped back into reality. 

I took deep breaths to calm myself and I took a good look in the mirror just to make sure that there was nothing behind me. I then continued to shave, followed by a quick shower, hasty combing into my usual slicked back look, some teeth brushing and a bit of mouthwash that was also in my duffle bag. and then I put on my black overcoat, and fedora hat.

I actually thought for a moment that I began to look like myself again.

I topped it off with an unlit cigarette; some ponies, for some reason, always considered the cigarette to be intimidating, considering that I’ve used the smoke and the flame of it as weapons before. It didn’t surprise me. I then had a small pain at the back of my skull, then I realized that I began to sense Princess Luna’s magic. She was in the room, so just in case, I took my revolver and I loaded it as fast as my telekinesis allowed me to, and I cocked back the hammer. I then placed the weapon in my coat. 

I then opened the luxurious white door to find the princess laying on her side reading the files that Bloody Merry left behind when she was there. She was also once again devoid of her royal regalia and jewelry, her starry mane flowing on the unseen winds of the ether. She then looked at me and began to recite what she read while I was preparing for the day. 

“Thou once fought in what is called here the ‘Gallic Foreign Legion’, for five years in a war between the Kingdom of Shiba and thine ancient homeland of Gaul. Thou wert distinguished for survival inside enemy encampments in the ruins of Urrasan--a place we are amazed was actually found at all. Thou fought thy way back into the Gallic fortification of thy legion, leaving no survivors back on Urrasan, in which thou wert trapped in for three weeks!

“This wast after thee, as ordered by thy lords, used thy alchemical knowledge to create a weapon known as the ‘Spiritum Balar’ which burned and even melted the enemies of Gaul.

“And when Shiba retaliated with the undead abominations known as ‘zombies’ that besieged the fortification, you took a small band of warriors and managed to escape thy doomed fate.” 

I was shaking at that; she had no idea of what really happened there, she was only reading the ‘official’ report. Flashes of that time, of that first taste of war, came back to me like wet moldy bread washed down with stale beer. The cannon and machine-gun fire buzzing above my head from both sides, as I was in a deep trench. My first kill with a sharpened shovel as I split a zebra Infantry Stallion’s skull open in said trench, knee-deep in the blood-soaked mud and sand, wet with the life blood of many unicorn and zebras alike.

Then I started to remember screams and the sight of the melting zebra civilians as I was forced to watch the effects of my most shameful creation, a creation that I was forced to make when my superiors learned of my knowledge and education. I’d labored to produce the bile chemical horror with a rifle aimed at my back, and the threat of execution by my superiors. 

The foul smell of the corrosive effects of the ‘Spiritus Balar’ as I watched it eat through flesh and bone, and how the victims screamed in absolute agony, like the wailing of banshees signaling the damnation of your soul, only multiplied by the thousands. 

And when I resisted I was sent to back to the front, along with many others on a suicide mission to capture the ruins of Urrasan, they were all slaughtered, I was captured, tortured, violated. I was abandoned and left to die. I, in my foolishness, refused, and in my wrath I escaped their grasp, but I was trapped in the ruins, three weeks being lost in that damned place killing and scavenging from any zebra I could until I managed to crawl back to the fort of my station, being tailed by the cursed undead. 

I came back to reality as I saw Princess Luna watching me with curiosity. 

“How art thou feeling? When we made the potion from mine own blood, we were not sure thee would survive the ordeal of it being administered directly into thy veins. But here thou are standing in better vigor than when we first laid eyes on thee. Truly the Ghost of Urrasan lives up to his reputation.” 

The way that she said it with such a prideful smile made me sick to my stomach. My sins were no glory, and I wasn’t happy that they were being recited to me as if they were accomplishments. 

She then threw me my ‘trinket’; I caught it mid-air telekinetically with that devil may care smile that would have been charming had I been in a better mood. 

“We take it that is the origin of thy accomplishments? We are impressed you learned to use such an ancient enchanted item. Didst thou find it in the ruins of Urrasan when thou wast in mid-battle there? It must have been quite the advantage when thee learned how to use it.” 

At that moment I snapped; I lost the ability to accept praise for such atrocities. 

So I pocketed my ‘trinket’ and I started to trot towards the door, giving no heed or acknowledgment to Princess Luna. As she started to move towards me I spit venom from my words. 

“Of course it was, your majesty, but then you would understand the advantages of the use of such ancient sorcery, wouldn’t you, Nightmare Moon?”

At the moment I dared to say that, a telekinetic blast had launched me through the air, causing me to smash through the white ornate door, reducing it to splinters and letting me slide incoherently onto the polished marble floor.  

I heard her start to sob; she then galloped to my left, then I heard the crackling of electricity, followed by the unmistakable sound of a magical discharge. 

Princess Luna teleported out of that hallway, leaving me by my lonesome. I got back on all fours, cracked my neck and then started to quickly think about what just happened. 

I sat on my hunches, then I drew my .44 snub-revolver and gave it a good look. Judging by her reaction to the mentioning of Nightmare Moon, she remembered everything from that possession. What horrors did she perform while in that state? Her guilt must have been immeasurable, for if half of what the legends mentioned about the Celestial Vault War were true, her atrocities far outweighed my own. She didn’t know what I had gone through; she’d only read the official records, and those are hardly accurate; they are biased towards the Gallic Republic, and because they had no evidence of my mutiny, they never executed me. 

For a second, just for a second, I thought there was only one honorable thing to do in the face of everything I have done. So I took my .44 sub-revolver with my right hoof and placed it to the side of my head, then at that moment, I began to pull the trigger only for the weapon to be yanked out of my hoof. Not half a second later, there was the feeling of a sledgehammer slugging my gut. It was a solid punch from a feminine brick-red forehoof who I recognized belonged to none other than Bloody Merry. 

I heard the clicking and the resounding dings of the drop of the revolver’s ammo to the marble floor. The sound of the brass and lead hitting the marble was almost like the chirping of mockingbirds easing me awake; it brought me back to my senses and back into the world of the living. 

I straightened myself out and looked at Merry; she was looking at with an almost sullen expression that those of us that live our life of secrets and madness is expected to have. At that point, it was obvious that this went from a case to something so much worse that it’s simply beyond me to give it a name. 

“Thank ya for that. I wasn’t exactly in the best place. Though considering what happened, what are ya doing back?” 

She took in a deep breath and pocketed my revolver. She then came and gave me a hug out of all things. Maybe she wasn’t just trying to seduce me for her own purposes, maybe she had a real heart underneath the cheerful spy and murder machine that she was. Not that I wasn’t any better, my hooves were even more bloodsoaked, and I knew it. 

“Simple. I in good conscience could not leave you knowing that in that state you would probably hurt yourself. Which is why I will be keeping the gun. I heard the conversation. It was rather harsh of you to pull the Nightmare Moon card on her.” 

I started telekinetically picking up the bullets, unsure whether to look Merry in the eye or not. 

“I lost myself, she talked about it like I should be proud when she didn’t know what really happened. I should have informed her, but the visions and memories caused me to snap.” 

She slapped her hoof to her face. Needless to say that she had the right. 

“I think that you should consider yourself to have a devil’s luck, luv’. You should be chunky red and bloody flesh paste by now.” 

She wasn’t wrong; one lightning bolt to the horn could have done that to me easily, and with the speed, she could cast it? I wouldn’t have been able to see it coming. So once I pocketed the bullets into my coat, I already started having an apology for Luna forming in my head.

“Aye sweetheart, but I think we still have work to do. The princess and I have a Blood Sealed Contract; even if she desires nothing but my head on a pike and for my corpse to be paraded through the city, I still am obligated to continue searching for the Thule Esoteric Order.” 

Merry sighed in resignation and decided to trot ahead. 

“I will wait for you outside Lore. We may need more firepower; hopefully, Henri will not mind lending us some of his.” 

I then decided to go in the opposite direction. I needed a favor, and truthfully that favor meant everything to me. And there was only one mare that I could trust with it.
> Chapter XVII: To the Maw of the Beast
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

6 Minutes Later

Luckily, Sea Sandstone Cove was still around the castle. I followed her ether trail from where we first met. She was at the moment talking to some tall, blond-maned, white pretty boy with a white smoking jacket and large chest frame in the lobby leading to the exit. He had the most forced accent I’ve ever heard, and his horn was half the size of a bloody damned foreleg. The only thing actually respectable about him is his brass compass flower mark, which was meant to represent his diplomatic ability. Of course, I’m talking about Count Blueblood. What? You expected me to call him Prince? Sorry, but let’s make something here clear: Blueblood legally changed his name to Prince Blueblood and declared himself to be a descendant of Prince Ironclad, Celestia’s first son, who died over eight hundred years ago at that point, I might add. He did this with a false convoluted genealogy as a publicity stunt to try and get the more conservative unicorn nobles that actually held seat in Parliament to try to agree on a trade deal with the Skorpan Empire, across the Atlantic, and past the Mediterranean Sea. Celestia might have liked the intention, but she despised her son's name to be used in such a way so she condemned him to be her eyes and ears in every aristocratic gathering he could enter. 

When I got next to them to try and talk to Ms. Cove, I heard the following. 

“Listen to me, you stupid mud pony, I need to get my tea at exactly seven sharp in the morning or else I won’t be able to stay awake and listen to the dribble of both the arrogant Parliament nobles and moronic commoner officials. And would it have killed you to wear the short Gallic outfit? I needed those-” 

At that moment, I turned him to me in the blink of an eye and slugged his muzzle with a resounding crunch and the sickeningly wet feeling of blood. Naturally, he dropped to the ground covering his bleeding muzzle with both hooves. 

“My beautiful sexy face! You made me bleed my beautiful sexy blood!” 

After I heard that, I began to ignore his whining and pained groans, mostly because I really didn’t care much for him.

“Miss Cove? Sorry about that, but I need a favor. I need ya to take this letter to the barracks to a Corporal Percutor, with a bouquet of white lilies and lavenders that you will buy in the address I wrote on the back. Don’t worry about the bits, the banknote is in the envelope with the letter.” 

She paid attention, but she was still trying to properly process the fact that I openly punch other ponies with little provocation. 

“Um-m sure…” 

Eh that was close enough.  

“All right, see ya around.” 
______________________________________________________________________________
Around 9:00 AM, The Narrows

I was restless; my mind played with the possibilities. About a dozen different scenarios were working their way through my mind. I needed to bring the evidence back to Celestia, and I needed to get my hands on a living Thule. The last one had proven to be difficult, the first one should have been easy granted that everything was still in order. 

I wasn’t sure. 

I knew that I needed to check the Canterlot Underground--the sewers and service tunnels that traversed the whole city. Henri’s gang knew how to use it well, and if there was a place more ideal in the whole Unicorn Range, the Everfree, and Canterlot Mountain to hide secrets and move freely, I didn’t know it yet. 

Merry stayed silent, her demeanor more and more somber. I tried my best to stay focused on the task, as we trotted from the Palace district to the Canterlot Narrows.

It was the part of Canterlot that none of the tourists or foreign dignitaries got to see. It was old, made of ancient centuries old stone masonry, and, by all standards, derelict. The earthen, griffons, Xing, and even some unicorns that lived in this area were living in what can only be described as resentful squalor. Most there were either dying of sickness due to the nasty sanitary conditions, or because they got beaten to death in the process of stealing a wallet, that place could only be called misery. 

The Redlight at least was clean, and by all standards was filled with pleasure houses of all types. 

The Narrows, though...the Narrows was the last place you ended up before dying in Canterlot. The Narrows was the price of opulence, in a way. I was no stranger to slums, especially considering that I came from Sheol’s Kitchen, but back in Manehattan we at least didn’t pretend that Sheol’s Kitchen didn’t exist. 

I pyrokinetically lit my cigarette as we started getting closer to the Corpse Alley, the only way to get on the route to Henri’s Place in sewers, mostly to just overpower the smell and to tell any would be desperate muggers ready to pounce on us to. 

“Fuck off.”

After saying that I heard hooves stop in their tracks and start trotting on the other direction. 

Until we reached it. 

Corpse Alley. 

Merry talked first. What she saw certainly earned her attention and mine. 

“It just is not my bloody fucking day.” In the harshest tone that that pretty mare could muster. 

I, on the other hoof? 

“In the alley filled with corpses lies the army of the hopeless. But it seems that we are late.” 

What is it that we saw? 

Chum, or at least it looked like that at first glance. In reality it was the blown-up remains of half a dozen ponies, their blood still wet and painting the soot-covered gray stone walls of the alley, some of their limbs still intact enough to be recognizable, and wet flesh and shattered bone everywhere on sight, along with I can only guess to be shredded internal organs. This, of course, was covering or was in with the somewhat shredded remains of their clothing consisting of green military-style fatigues, with black leather trench-coats. Some brass goggles and gas masks were also around. 

Oh, that was a fucking disaster. There was too much raw savagery back there to be the work of an equine, and the wound patterns spoke of something that moved in a way that I have never seen before. The corpses reduced to a chum, speak of a sudden lightning strike to the horn. 

“Nasty way to go, but from what I can tell it was probably quick at the very least. Not enough time to think about your imminent demise, small mercy if there ever was one.” 

Then I saw it, covered in blood, in the middle of it all, a steel object somewhat looking like a gun, but not quite it. 
It was large and cumbersome, about twice the mass of the old Enfield service rifle that I used during my time in the legion. I telekinetically lifted it off the pool of blood and flesh, looked at it carefully, and then I took it with my right forehoof. The sound it made when it activated was like hearing an electrical generator up close, it had a powerful hum that ran through both our bodies, probably from the electrical energies that it emanated from its core. Did it have to do with the surrounding carnage? Probably; maybe one of them tried to turn it on in desperation because of what they might have encountered, and due to poor hoofdeling it caused a misfire or a power surge of some kind. Though to be fair, at the very least I had a good piece of evidence to study, if it proved to be too impractical to use that is.

“I say we move forward, do ya agree?” 

Merry already had my .44 revolver loaded and ready when I asked. She certainly was a good girl. 

“‘Agree’ doesn’t even describe it, luv’. Care to give this girl a fag?”

And I did so; I gave her one of my jade dragon cigarettes and pyrokinetically lit it for her. She took in a deep drag, and she then blew the smoke out between her teeth. 

“I am good now.” 

We trotted until reaching a seemingly empty wall on the back. 

We waited only for a couple of seconds, as customary. 

With the heavy sound of derelict gears grinding, the wall began to sink into the cobblestone alley, revealing a passageway into the stairs leading into the sewers. Somehow the stench emanating from it overpowered the stench of death in that alley of corpses. 

“Once more into the unknown.” 

We both went in. 

And with that, it began: first blood. 

The oldest and strongest emotion of equine kind is fear, and the oldest and strongest kind of fear is fear of the unknown.
> Chapter XVIII Hard-Boiled
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The smell only got worse as we reached the end of the stairwell into the somewhat derelict Canterlot sewer system--a strange and humid mishmash of centuries-old stone brick masonry and modern machinery that was built in to meet with the current standards of sanitation. The sewers were expansive, each tunnel easily seven meters high and seven meters wide. The entire place had old mechanisms and runes built in by the original unicorn stonemasons some five hundred years ago. Believe it or not, it was by order of Celestia; she considered that while Canterlot was a city built in a time of peace and was by all standards built to be impressive and impractical, a place to live well rather than defend, the nobles of the time--considering who they were--felt that it was ludicrous that the city would be built without any defences, so as an overly elaborate insult she ordered the construction of scape entrances all around the city into the then new sewage system.

Celestia also paid the masons additional wages at the cost of the House of Platinum, the noble house that complained about the lack of defenses in the first place.

Whether that was a good move on Her Royal Highness’ part solely depends on how much one despises the wealthy. I personally found it hilarious. As a former soldier I should object. But I felt that if any invading army had already managed the gall to go through the rest of either the west coast or the east coast, Equestria was already as good as dead anyway. Canterlot Mountain is in the spank middle of the north Equestrian continent! The amount of towns and cities that would have to be seized back then in order to replenish the resources of the invading army was no small number. Add the time on the battlefield and the resistance of the citizens themselves, and you essentially make it abundantly clear that any invading army was just better off taking the surrounding coastal cities and then demand that Equestria surrenders. The cost of time, resources, and life of the soldiers of the invading army would have potentially have cost more than the reward for such an action. Though considering that Celestia can burn down navies and that the pegasus legions of the time could have created typhoons and thunderstorms (that would have been let loose without any control, industrial weather control was only invented a good one hundred years ago after all), that would have been unlikely.

But with the invention of large military airships, rocket packs (even if the technology was invented by an Equestrian engineer), magic syphoning field projectors, the machine gun, and chemical weapons in the last fifty years leading to the events presented here, I considered that the feat of conquering Equestria was more likely than ever at the time. If Equestria was on the bad side of a wealthy and militarily competent empire like the Russ Empire, Thule Germania, the Xing Empire, or even Nipon, it was doomed. Equestria might have had the resources and scientific prowess to fight them had the need been present. But it had a complacent population and a military that, for all intents and purposes, was considered a joke to the rest of the world. No matter how powerful and brilliant Celestia was, she was only one mare; eventually, even she would fall. Celestia was a sorceress, she gave up the ax after banishing Nightmare Moon; her fighting instincts were gone. The ol’ gal was out of practice, and she never caught up with the times when it came to warfare.

So in the end, Equestria was vulnerable and too spoiled to care. Funny how the world used to be. In many ways, Equestria was under completely voluntary and blissful ignorance, yet I was cursed with the truth. But I’m done wasting your time, let’s continue.

As me and Merry descended I was getting the feeling that something was waiting for me. But I had no clue on what.

“Folklore!” Merry called for me, and galloped quickly to my side.

“What’s wrong? You have been sweating bullets and it’s getting colder the further we go down. Something is bothering you.” She actually showed some concern for me, and I could tell that it was genuine. I miss her.

“Sorry, I guess the scene back there spooked me more than thought. The bodies that were torn asunder died in less than three seconds. It’s the only explanation as to why there wasn’t much damage to the walls and there were so few hoofsteps on the street. Whatever hit them came in like a small tornado of blades shredding them before they had a chance to know something was off.” Yes, back then I really did wonder just what could possibly do that, that quickly. But then again, a lot of things were new back then.

We finally reached the end of the stairwell into the three-hundred-year-old or so enchanted iron door that was between the stairwell and the sewer.

I could sense activity through the door: four unicorns, averagely powerful, one of them with some sort of compact etherelectrical generator on his back, connected to something that I couldn't make out with my ether sensitivity alone.

Nevertheless, I decided to use my ectoplasmic manipulation by turning the surrounding damp and foul-smelling air to ectoplasm. The lock may have been good but it was hundreds of years old; I simply had to insert the ectoplasm through the keyhole and send in a bit of a magical surge to cause the lock to open. It all was in less than a minute really.

It was odd that it was locked, but considering the evidence of an assault, it's possible that the ponies attacking made sure that no pony or creature could escape, vicious but smart. All the other entryways from the city were probably locked as well. That caused me some concern. They weren’t going to take any prisoners, meaning that the spilling of blood was certain.

We entered with caution and with weapons at the ready; me with my Kurdish dagger and Merry with my .44 subbed revolver.

The stone tunnel’s walls were lined with steam and propane gas pipes, and pipes containing electrical wiring. It was spacious enough to trot at either of the trotways at either side of what can only be described as a large stream of crap, probably a bit over half a meter deep. The large corridor we entered in vaulted, meaning that there were buildings right above us.

Me and Merry took the trotway closest to the stairwell we’d just entered through. We maintained silence, moving in such a way as to make a minimal amount of sound. I myself was even using a dampening spell on my hooves.

Up until I saw the blotches of ether and the rippling of the sewer water. Then it started.

I couldn’t believe it--they had some form of perception dampening. That was my shtick!

I telekinetically used one of my throwing knives hidden under my sleeve at his exposed throat; his perception dampening came down the moment he was going to react, only for that to be stopped by having four inches of steel in his throat.

Within that second I violently launched his weapon to my direction and I telekinetically stopped it mid-flight from hitting my face.

While still keeping his weapons floating I watched as he sputtered and choked, stumbling to the other trotway. I must have hit the carotid artery because his blood was spraying everywhere in high pressure, even getting some on my face.

He twitched for about five more seconds before he finally died. I could have taken him out of his misery earlier but I wanted to see if he also had one of the creatures I had captured back in the Philharmonic Hall dwelling within him like that other bastard.

I got close and I looked at him once over.

He was wearing some chest plated steel armor with small shoulder pads, and the armor was made with modern military thinking in mind, built more for practicality rather than aesthetic. It looked factory-made rather than it being the work of a blacksmith like it came straight out of an assembly line. Underneath that he was wearing a black combat uniform, completely devoid of indications of the rank, unit, or country, or symbols of any kind. What it did have was pouches--quite a few actually, and what looked like some form of a double-barrel shotgun on his back and, on his left side, a holster holding a Germanian Parabellum Pistole, or P-78 for short. He was also wearing some welding goggles.

After about twenty seconds of my poking around with the corpse and telekinetically holding what appeared to be a Tinker Submachine Gun with a one hundred-round barrel magazine, Bloody Merry trotted behind me and had something ready to tell me something soon as I telekinetically threw her the Tinker Gun and she grabbed it.

“I may be a trained assassin formerly from Albion, Folklore, but even I have to admit that was pretty brutal. Isn’t your usual modus operandi interrogating before considering whether gratuitous murder is necessary?”

I looked back at her with confusion; I thought we were on the same page about deadly force before we went down the stairwell.

“It is, but after what I went through yesterday, I think that the kill first, ask questions later is a better strategy to utilize here. I thought you were fine with that.”

She sighed for a second, blowing another puff of cigarette smoke, probably remembering her own words up until we came here.

“I did, but I didn’t expect our enemy to be so much like us, or to be pink. His build also seems familiar.”

It was true; his fur was pink and his hair blond. His build reminded me of the Royal Guards’. The implications for that would be nasty, and I prefered for her to focus so I said, “Best not to think about it. Four more are coming, get ready.”

I wasn’t lying, though; I had been keeping my mind’s eye on them since we entered the sewer system.

Four more came from the end of the tunnel turning towards us from the right. One of them had the ether of a sorcerer like myself. The rest were only armed much the same way as the one I allowed to rapidly bleed to death a moment ago.

I activated my ‘trinket’ and became enveloped in a perception dampening field. I galloped forward with the utmost haste, using my telekinetic abilities to both avoid slipping in the wet trotway.

They spread in formation as if they were making a shield wall like the Royal Guard instead of taking cover behind the corners of the tunnel. The apparent sorcerer started charging a spell, but before he could finish, I pulled out the weapon that I picked up from the carnage we saw back in ‘Corpse Alley’ and pulled the trigger. There was a bolt of raw lightning that hit his head and then he exploded in charred gore and cloth, his armor being left seemingly intact as it spread due to the explosion.

That all took place within a second.

My perception-dampening ‘Trinket’ was still activated, so I jumped back,\; the boiling blood I had just spilled splattered over the other three, distracting them and causing them to panic and scream, with one of them firing his Tinker sub-machine gun erratically from his right to the upward part of the tunnel, puncturing some of the gas pipes. Merry gave suppressing fire with the Tinker. I passed her while she was standing on her back legs and firing with her forehooves, killing two with a hail of bullets that impacted them, resulting in blood splatter emitting from their bodies, their chest armor being penetrated, as it to me it seemed that it was made with a different purpose than protecting someone against gunfire.

The last stallion of the group tried to arm his own exotic looking weapon; he had sort of compact etherelectrical generator on his back, the same one I sensed before entering this place. He trotted right into the unseen but very much smelled, cloud of propane gas that was being emitted from the bullet holes in the gas pipeline.

I pyrokinetically sparked the gas that promptly set him on fire.

He promptly began to flail around in agony, screaming bloody murder in ways that can only be perceived as being in the edge of Sheol itself.

Of course, he then dived into the sewer water and promptly began to get up. The shock of the whole ordeal should have been enough to kill him––the sudden increase in temperature, the cooking of flesh, and the sudden drop would be too much to handle even for an earthen, much less a unicorn.

As he managed to stand up on all fours, I promptly shot him twice with the P-78 in the horn, and in the left frontal lobe, killing him instantly and ending his misery. I heard Merry take off the belt of her black trench coat and used it to tie the Tinker sub-machine gun to her back. As a result, I deactivated my perception dampening ‘trinket’, and we both galloped forward and then we turned right.

We ran into a line of more of the soldiers, they all had Tinkers and opened fire.

If we had really just done that we would have both died then and there. But that is just what they saw.

In reality, I was sitting in a lotus position in the left trotway.

Nothing but a little Ectoplasmic Projection. Neither me and Merry moved after she took the belt of her trenchcoat to tie the Tinker to her back. Naturally, when they emptied about twenty rounds off their one-hundred round magazines they noticed that they were shooting at gas.

At that point I tossed to Merry one of the smoke grenades that I took from my first kill that evening. She caught it without fail, pulled the pin with her mouth and threw it onto the right trotway, engulfing it in smoke.They immediately galloped into it; I then telekinetically moved the smoke into their nostrils and muzzle pushed it in on all four of them. They tried to cough,but their mouths couldn’t exhale at all. They fell to their knees, unable to breathe, one of them looking at nowhere in particular with bloodshot eyes that I could see through his brass goggles.

Eventually all four suffocated in a matter of three minutes or so.Their intact bodies laid in either trotway in an almost symmetrical fashion.

I quickly trotted towards the bodies on the right trotway first, ignoring the smoke as best I could, I coughed twice but it didn’t matter to me much.

Merry quickly caught up with me and made a very interesting point. “We could have gun them down, this seems a bit of a slow and torturous method to kill a few ponies.”

I replied in kind. “It is but I need the bodies intact; I sensed something large ahead and something tells me we are going to have to use another one of me wartime tricks. And I need to act before these bodies start defecating.”

I stood there and activated my horn and I got to work. I opened my mouth, letting out the ectoplasm that I got my body to produce and let it form into four distinct smoky orange glowing tendrils.

“Merry, would ya mind removing the gas masks? It would make things easier.”

She looked at me a bit incredulously but she did as she was told; in about forty or so seconds she removed all four of the gas masks and brass goggles.

Each of the tendrils got into a particular Thule soldier’s mouth and eye sockets. The bodies then began to convulse and shake a bit before trying to get on all fours, stumbling a bit and finally standing straight, looking to nowhere in particular as their eyes and mouths glowed orange of my ethereal field.

I stopped inserting magic into them so that I could start removing their weapons. Something told me and Merry was going to need them. Two of them had other weapons on their backs; one had what looked like some sort of rifle, while the other had what looked like a bulkier double-barrel shotgun.

I telekinetically took the shotgun and gave it a good hard look; it had a magazine that wrapped around it, the mechanism complex but not something unlike I had seen in Maxim-Guns before. It dawned on me that this double-barrel was probably semi-automatic. Whoever designed this wanted a trench devastator, something to use as a means of clearing a section of a trench from an enemy squadron quickly the weapon was probably even better for use in corridors. This was a weapon for war. One I hadn’t seen before but definitely something that I could recognize as made by an experienced manufacturer and one bloody Sheol of a mechanical engineer.

The words indicating where the ammo feed were printed in Germanian, and it looked like something the country would produce as well.

“Impressive,” I said with some sincere admiration of the weapon designer’s ingenuity.

Merry herself grabbed the other Thule soldiers weapon. She took a good look at it, the rifle she was looking at giving her a good glint in her eye.

“This is an automatic rifle… An actual automatic rifle. It’s too small to be one, but from what I can tell… it actually is.”

I looked at Merry with curiosity; that look was actually similar to the seductive one she gave me yesterday. Then I heard her speak again.

“I could kill the whole world with this thing.” The way that she actually said sounded almost with a tinge of a growl of arousal, which caught me by surprise, but at the same time gave a small grin to my rather grim face.

I then took the ammo for both weapons from the standing corpses of their former owners; I threw her the four magazines of the Germanic Automatic Rifles ammo or G.A.R.

I kept the two extra of the semi-auto shotgun that at that moment I named “Devastator.”

I placed fire runes on the standing Thule corpses’ grenades, it took about a minute considering that I was able to do it by drawing it on all sixteen grenades at once with a bit of pyrokinesis and precision to avoid killing us both via comically timed explosion.

I closed my eyes and saw the horror that was approaching. It was a terrible, indescribable thing as vast as sewer tunnels taking in both trotways—a shapeless congeries of protoplasmic bubbles, faintly self-luminous, and with myriads of temporary eyes forming and deforming as pustules of greenish light.

I opened my eyes in terror, sweat setting on me brow. I lit me horn and the four Thule corpses galloped, screaming in a loud “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!”

They were off right before they could continue their full speed gallop. In addition, me and Merry I began to hear some submachine gunfire and the sound of the crackling of electricity off in the distance.

“I think we better go see.”

We galloped to the other tunnel to see far off into the distance--around three hundred and five meters to be precise, probably--the very being I mentioned earlier, being shot at by three Thule soldiers, one of them even telekinetically holding and firing the odd rifle I had found in ‘Corpse Alley’ that I had now strapped to my back.

The creature materialized a blade looking tendril, sliced the one holding the odd electric rifle that I mentioned before in a diagonal fashion, and somehow fired back the bullets that had been fired to it back at the other two, causing the walls of the tunnel to be splattered with their blood.

It then began moving quickly towards us easily, going at a pony’s galloping speed despite its size, and somehow emanating a horrid inequine noise that I could only describe as “TEKELI-LI TEKELI-LI!!”

The screaming Thule corpses were actually starting to get near it. And then they managed to dive right into it. Despite them and the creature being about two hundred and ninety-eight meters away, now I could hear the audible crunch as their bodies were crushed within the mass of translucent glowing black mass that the creature was.

Then, the explosion. The creature expanded, glowing the orange light of the fire that formed within by the grenades, causing the surrounding arch to cave in and several tons of cut stone, concrete, piping, plumbing and live electrical wiring to descend upon it and cause more of the Canterlot sewer tunnel to collapse until it reached around one hundred and fifty meters in our direction.

Which was great because the elevator on the right trotway to the tunnels that led to the abandoned to one of the abandoned Underground City Storage areas was one hundred and twenty meters away, and the etherelectricity that powers it came from the opposite direction of the tunnel collapse.

“What the bloody sheols fuck was that, Lore!?” Merry said with honest to the sun horror.

I, on the other hoof, was still sweating and bearing a rather dismal expression of dawning existential dread that, in all honesty, looked like the face one makes when their progenitors are in the midst of coitus and ye are looking through the slightly open door of their bedroom.

I had to say something, but it came out as, “That was something beyond my knowledge, for now. We better keep m-moving; if Henri is dead, we should at least get his body and properly bury him.”

As soon as I finished saying that she looked at me as if I knew something she didn’t know; I did know quite a few things she didn’t but, in relation to that situation, not as much.

“Henri may have been tough, but I don’t think that he could have dealt with something like what we just saw; the way I see, it that creature cannot be destroyed with conventional weapons or magic.”

She then said, “Bollocks, what you did must have killed it.”

I replied in kind. “Sorry, but that I’m pretty sure it is still alive.”

With that we both galloped towards the service elevator––rather minimalist and industrial, it even functioned via lever pulling.

We got in and I closed the elevator’s scissor gate quickly, Merry pulled the lever and down we went.

There was a little time before we reached the bottom, so we got a conversation going.

“Had you ever dealt with something like that before? I mean, you patched together that plan with screaming exploding ponies really fast,” Merry asked in an attempt to make sense of what happened; understandable really, it was pretty insane.

I of course had to disappoint her, truth be told, if I didn’t let her know of my weak spots I might as well have declared my existence forfeit back then.

“I used clairvoyance to see ahead, to see how many hostiles we might have to deal with on our way to the elevator. But when I saw the ‘THING’ I pulled something out of my arse. Truth be told I had no idea what sending screaming exploding unicorns the creature’s way would do, only that it might buy time. It didn’t do much but cause damage to some of the infrastructure of the city of Canterlot. And I’m pretty sure that I can still feel it, but I have no idea from which direction.”

She looked at herself, sweating at the remark and swallowing a bit of spit she didn’t even know was in her mouth.

“What are we dealing with, Folklore...?” she said, honest to the world fear in her eyes.

“Things that time and the world forgot, things that we have no place in knowing they exist, but yet here they are and here we are. I have no idea what to do now, but we must concentrate on getting a solution fast. If we can barely stomach it, the average Equestrian will surely fall into absolute despair in the face of such things.”

I looked at her with an apologetic look. Truth be told that was the best answer I could give her.

“Into the dark we go then,” she said,with a surprising level of understanding. In the end, maybe that was the reason I actually grew fond of her; she had will and bravery in the face of certain death. That or we both were equally mad and should have been put away.

The elevator stopped and I opened the scissor gate. In the four meters by four meters stone hallway, there were about six Thule soldiers galloping by; they spotted us, but Merry opened fire with what I was calling the G.A.R., emptying the magazine on the six before they had a chance to get to their own rifles. The sparks and clings of the bullets piercing through their industrial armor and blood splatter that spread from the unprotected military fatigue’s areas came into my vision. They dropped like wet unicorn-shaped sacks of screaming potatoes on the stone floor.

Merry then dropped the empty magazine and quickly loaded another one into the G.A.R.

We moved with our weapons in tow, I have the Devastator and the odd electric rifle floating by my sides thanks to a bit of applied telekinesis taking point. At the end of the hallway there was a turn left. I carefully trotted forward at a steady pace with Merry behind me. As we got close to the turn, we found a G.A.R. wielding Thule soldier, who I promptly deprived of a head by blasting him with the Devastator, his head exploding with the consistency of chum, made of skin, brains, fragmented bone and brain matter. Not to mention the glass and metal of his goggles and mask.

We both went the direction he came from; three more were coming from the right turn at the end of that hallway, they showed up and actually fired with decent reaction time. I reacted quickly, strafing left while Marry strafed right, trying our best to be faster than the trigger hooves and not the bullets. The fire from their G.A.R rifles only got a shot through the right shoulder, me right cheek grazed and a few holes on the back of my long black overcoat. Though I noticed Merry getting shot in the lower abdomen; she hadn’t noticed yet because the adrenalin was pumping through our veins as I used the odd electric rifle to shoot a one while she fired her G.A.R. haphazardly at the other two. Naturally, one exploded in gory confetti and the others were riddled with holes and their own blood splatter. We both leaned on our respective walls, the pain started to seep in, as we both had some ragged breathing due to the scare.

I asked her, “Are ya all right, can you keep going?”

She looked at me. “Yeah, I’m an earthen remember? I learned how to harden my skin during CQC training so I don’t think that the round went in too deep. HURTS LIKE FUCK THOUGH!” I noticed a little but not much bleeding and started to feel the bullet sized hole in my shoulder. So I used a Xing nerve technique which translated to avalonian as ‘Nervous System Manipulation’.

“We’re going to have to get us to the castle medical ward afterwards, I don’t feel that I can pull that bullet in ya gut with just telekinesis. Might do more damage than good.”

She got up and started trotting quickly, and I followed suit a second later. She had a naturally uncomfortable expression on her face; nonetheless, she asks. “What about your shoulder, luv’?”

I told her matter of factly that, “Don’t worry, it’s only a flesh wound, I learned how to numb the nerves with a bit of mind over matter years ago. I’ll gauze it up when I find a Med-Kit I’m not losing that much blood yet.”

We continued forward, then turned right. We found various mangled remains, a few severed limbs, and blood splatter all over the floor and walls. Fresh, the blood hadn’t even started coagulating. Judging by the lack of uniforms and the more casual clothing on the few pieces of the abdomen, I concluded that the dead were of Henri’s Gang. Couldn’t tell the race of pony due to the state, but it was definitely equine body parts spread around.

We continued, forward trotting over the blood and entrails with abandon. We encountered a couple of more Thule that we dispatched brazenly shooting them both with the P-78 and my .44 Snub-Revolver that Merry had taken.

Eventually we reached the large four meters tall and five-meter wide steel door that lead to the abandoned Underground Storage. As soon as we got near it we heard that horrid sound. “TIKELI-LI, TIKELI-LI”!! We also heard gunfire, electric sparks, and the screams of agony of a grown stallion. Me and Marry pushed the large doors open.

The scene before us was just as absurd as it was grisly. The ‘THING’, as I have come to call it, was getting shot with Tinker sub-machine guns, G.A.R. rifles and the odd electric rifles, being fired at by about six Thule soldiers, who were having difficulty avoiding the creature’s tendrils––which had mouths with needle-like teeth like those of angler fish at the ends––its black translucent form shifting and slithering in various unpredictable directions within the massive vaulted ceiling storage area, which was twenty-five meters high and thirty meters in circumference. At the edge of the room was a large makeshift barricade of metal desks and wooden scraps of furniture, behind which were a couple of unicorns, three zebras, five griffons, and four Xing, Xing with Tinker submachine-guns and the rest with Pattern 986 Enfield Bolt-Action rifles, all firing at the creature with no effect.

One of the Thule soldiers with his own odd electric rifle was, in a moment of carelessness, taken by one of the mouths at the end of a tendril; the mouth expanded and, like a viper, bit upon the head and upper body of the Thule soldier. Then it lifted the body of said soldier and smashed it to the ground, lifted it up and smashed it on the ground to the right, then the left, and finally it settled to continue smashing the Thule soldier in the same spot over and over again until he was nothing but a fleshy paste mixed with broken steel.

Another one of the tendrils then instantly contorted to the form of a harvesting scythe and, in one fell swoop, sliced the head and the upper top of the heads of the unicorn Thule soldiers wearing electric generators on their backs and carrying odd electric rifles.

Their blood sprayed with great ferocity around the area of their bodies. The ‘THING’ started moving toward what I guessed was what was left of Henri’s gang.

Me and Merry started galloping as fast as we could around the left side of the creature. As we came closer we couldn’t exactly stay close to each other so we started avoiding the tendrils. Merry galloped ahead and used her Earthen strength to quickly jump behind the barricade and crash into one of the rifle-wielding zebras that were in the process of reloading.

I rolled to the right, avoiding one swipe from the scythe-tendril; I jumped, avoiding a tendril with a needle-tooth mouth. Another tendril with a needle-tooth mouth was heading straight for me so in reflex I shot it with the Devastator, blowing it apart, only for it to reform a second later as I fell to the ground from the previous jump.

The tendril then wrapped around me, restricting my movement, so I sent a pyrokinetic blast toward the creature. I had already lost my hat and the devastator shotgun to the floor. I decided to slip out of my long black overcoat, leaving behind the P-78 pistol and my own odd electric rifle behind. I decided in half that second that the best option was to cause the rifle to explode. So I did that. I sent an overloading beam of magic towards the rifle while avoiding the tendril-scythe again by jumping back.

At that moment I also realized that my throwing knives and my Kurdish dagger were also in that long black overcoat, as the rifle on the back began to glow a burning red. I telekinetically yanked away my long black overcoat as fast as I could. In that second, the explosion happened, causing the ‘THING’ to retreat back a few meters and to ripple from the resulting etherelectrical charge of the shockwave.

Then it in four seconds it reformed again; just as I thought I had a breather, the equines and griffons behind the barricade opened Tinker submachine gun and Enfield 986 rifle fire on the ‘THING’.

It took the bullets, glowed electric blue, and shot them back killing three gang members––two zebras and a griffon––that were behind the barricade.

At that moment I had lost most of my hope, but something appeared and stabbed the ‘THING’ with a speed that even I couldn't register. Then it exploded in a cloud of black translucent slime, sending me flying back to the barricade, denting one of the metal desks in the process.

Once I managed to open my eyes again, I saw the very short sword that Brew brought me yesterday morning. There it was, the same hilt that was really a rough piece of petrified wood being attached to the banged-up and broken blade by use of animal tendons and leather holding a blade made from a bronze-like material.


It looked newer somehow. And on the blade’s center was a branch-like symbol etched into it, made of a single line with five other lines sticking out of it.


It was floating in midair, surrounded by the translucent black substance of the ‘THING’ that had caused so much havoc. It then fell to the ground with a small clang. I quickly trotted towards it and I actually managed to pick it up with my right forehoof this time. The symbol on its center glowed a bright orange, ectoplasmic steam emanating from it as a sign of true power. I turned around towards the barricade, telekinetically gripping the blade as I went along trotting towards the barricade to assess the damage.

Then a large one-eyed, white-tailed eagle griffon wearing a black leather trench coat with a solid iron eyepatch covering his missing eye flew from behind the barricade and landed right in front of me, the claws of his right foreleg replaced with steel claw-like blades. This was Henri the Iron Claw of Siberia and he had been living in Canterlot, spending the last five cleaning the lawless Canterlot narrows of all sorts of equine-traffickers, murderers and rapists alike.

He looked at me with his one golden eye.

“Arcanum Folklore the Ghost of Urassan. While I appreciate your assistance in this matter, I am oddly convinced that you have an idea of who the fools that attacked my sanctum are. Not to mention that they were arrogant enough to think that they could control such a creature no less.”

I decided that it was best to tell him.

“Aye, I think it’s best that I tell ya what is going on here. The Thule aren’t going to wait around anymore anyway.”

At that moment I thought on how Her Majesty Luna was; I hoped that she didn’t burn the flowers––if she got them at all, that is.
> Chapter XIX: Crimes Done in Darkness
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------





Fourth month, day four 1:55 PM. Lunar Diarch Bedroom, Canterlot Castle

Yes, I remember that. I had just finished reading the poem that my only knight at the time had written to me accompanied by a glass vase with clear water filled with white lilies all laid on top of a small table near the entrance to my chambers. And yes, while I had not knighted him, I felt like he was like my old knights. It had been over a millennium at that point since any stallion––nay, anypony at all––had given me white lilies. The poem itself read:

Moonlight bright, and stars shining white.

Regrets and blights of times far from sight.

She who watches dreams at night,

and who Morpheus envies despite the changes in time.

Eyes of turquoise and stars in the mane

like the void beyond the plains.

I miss thee like the tides miss thee

and I feel as though I am at bliss with thee.

Like the lilies at night reflecting the moonlight,

thy beauty is as radiant as it is sublime.

Thy sword once wrought against giants and gods,

whose blood thee spilled purpose in thought.

I ask of thee if you can forgive the devil that brought the tears and broke thy heart?

-Yours, Arcanum Folklore

I honestly felt that he meant what he wrote; it was written hastily with horn writing, meaning that not much time was taken to think it up. And I was ready to forgive him. After I had gotten at least a few hours of sleep. I had been awake for ten days straight at that time. Had I been anything less than an Alicorn demigoddess, I would have perished from exhaustion. So I closed the doors to my chambers and I went to lay on the bed that Sister had the servants bring to me. It is funny in a way how beds had become so much more comfortable since a millennium prior, how food had become larger and more delicious, how there is now the myriad of machines that was created and is depended upon now, and the increase in the amount of ponies involved in ruling the kingdom as well. In a way, to me it was all so exciting; I wanted to see and learn of the new world I had awoken to.

Many of my subjects fear me; others, specifically from noble lineages, outright have the arrogance to single me out and demand that I be imprisoned again! Had I not paid my dues? But at the same time, fools sought to bring Nightmare Moon back into the world to use as their personal weapon. The Nightmare did not submit and happily slaughtered those there that hadn’t been sacrificed to form her new body. Exempting one: a sorcerer by the name of Arpeggio Philharmonic, once a great maker of music.

But once the Nightmare had lost that sorcerer, one stepped forward to oppose her. Arcanum Folklore, he lured her into a trap, had tried various methods of killing the Nightmare and perhaps, by extension, me, only to be quickly impaled on a wall once those options had run out. He was a skilled magus, definitely knowledgeable, especially quite clever in combat. But his raw power was at best a tenth of Twilight Sparkle’s, yet he, without question, without the Elements of Harmony, as a mere mortal sorcerer, he demonstrated bravery and resourcefulness that I hadn’t seen in centuries.

It was his apparent death––or near death, as he revealed to me later. He allowed me to struggle against the Nightmare within my own mind. To change some of her thoughts in certain actions in such a way that she would not kill any innocents. Twilight Sparkle and her friends might have freed me, but he gave me the will to give the Elements of Harmony a chance at defeating the Nightmare.

That stallion felt like his soul came from a time where gods and monsters roamed the earth. From his reaction and from what I read, he knows what it's like to bear an unforgivable sin. Much like the times me and Sister lived in. And in many ways that feeling swayed my mind into favoring him.

That, and he had a sort of rugged handsomeness to him.

As I finished those thoughts, I slumbered and I did so peacefully.

Up until something in my mind told me to wake up, a profound sense of dread had befallen me.

I opened my eyes and I felt seven unicorn stallions had entered the room. I decided not to move until I had them where I wanted. As they got closer, I saw them through the corners of my eyes.

They were all wearing black cloth and simplistic steel chest armor. They had glowing lightning-spouting flat cylinders on their backs and were wearing what looked to me like plague doctor masks. And they were all wielding these rune-encrusted lightning-spouting spears. The design of the spears almost looked ancient Germanian in appearance.

They got in position and got ready to strike.

I summoned primordial lightning and reduced one to burned flesh, blood, and entrails in the blink of an eye. They panicked like young virginal maidens facing their first stallion’s girth. I quickly flew above the fools and summoned lightning for three more, reducing them to the appearance of dragon vomit. The three remaining tried to shoot lightning at me with little effect. I took it in like ale on a summers night! I teleported between them, took the spear of one with my magic, broke the hard oaken pole in half as if were a twig, and I magically pushed the other two to the other side of my chambers near the balcony. The one I had taken the spear from had used a hoofheld weapon against me, a small crossbow like mechanism that he shot. The pain in my leg, where I had been hit, was excruciating, greater than any arrow I had taken before, but I held fast and my blood boiled. I ripped his head from his body, spilling blood all over my chambers. Threw his severed head to the side as his body stumbled and fell, moving his legs haphazardly, not knowing that the head had been long gone.

I then teleported to the area near the balcony and I used my right forehoof to smash one of the two fools heads I had thrown here like a rotting watermelon.

I was about to break the neck of the last one when he whimpered pathetically for his life.

“Please, I surrender! I-I beg you! Do not kill m-”

I cut his pathetic begs for mercy as I used my magic to hold him by the throat. I had taken a bath before deciding to take a nap that day so I was not wearing my regalia. My body was bare and naked to the world, mostly covered with the blood of my slain foes, and my chambers were ruined, along with my bed, as they were covered with the blood and entrails of the fools that dared try to assassinate me. The first attempt on my life in a thousand years.

I threw the last fool on the bed and broke both of his lower legs. He screamed in blood-curling agony.

I got close to his face, my eyes glowing with my wrathful intent. Then I yelled at him a command that he could not refuse.

“SPEAK TO US ALL THAT THOU KNOWEST THY BASTARD OFFSPRING OF A BEATEN WHORE!”

At that moment the dual doors to my chambers were hastily opened. Three pegasus Royal Guards looked upon my chambers, and looked upon me with absolute fear in their eyes, completely breaking the Royal Guards’ tradition of controlling one's facial features. One of them even trotted out of the room and expelled the contents of his stomach.

I looked to the table with the white lilies and I calmed down a bit. At least the lilies where intact. And at that moment I knew that I needed to fetch Folklore as soon as I was done dealing with the fool before me.
> Chapter XX: Al-Azif
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Canterlot Royal Hospital 6:10 PM

Me and Merry had just finished getting patched up, along with seven or so injured but still living members of Henri’s gang. Merry was right in that the bullet didn’t reach very deep. Her internal organs were very much still intact.

I got the bullet out of me shoulder, but the nurse told me that the injuries were healing a lot faster than they should have and that that bullet hole would just be scar tissue by morning.

Celestia had set the sun and Luna had raised the moon some good nine minutes ago.

Me and Merry were sitting in the same hospital room, thinking on our next move.

“What we dealt with back there isn’t in my personal study. I should know I’ve read every book in it twice. There must be something on the ‘THING’ that we witnessed back there.”

She looked at me from her own hospital bed, patting the bandages on her lower belly.

“Yes, that was especially strange. Henri said that the Thule had brought it, but that they lost control over it. You think it was some sort of golem? Or a chimera?”

I answered back.

“Not likely, it seemed too complex for it to be that, and golems lack the intelligence and free will to rebel. Maybe a chimera, but those creatures are patchworks. What we saw there was a highly versatile organism. Perhaps capable of reproducing. That one was destroyed, but how many more are there? Do the Thule keep a stockpile of the creatures? Those are questions that need to be answered.”

She sat up and cracked her neck; she groaned with the pained expression of dealing with her still healing flesh and skin.

“Maybe, but what about what else we need to do?”

“Get the names of all those Thule Equestrians, bring about at least their attempts at killing us as evidence to Celestia to justify Luna’s contract with me to destroy the Thule, and finally hunt them all down.”

She sighed.

“Sounds hard.”

I raised an eyebrow at that and looked at her.

“Not like our profession were ever easy, sweetheart. Ya want dinner? I’m buying.”

She got off her bed and trotted towards the door of the hospital room, swaying her flank in such a tantalizing manner that I had to remember that she wasn’t in any condition to fool around.

She looked back at me with the sort of smile that melts ya away.

“I might just take you up on that. I better go find what is left of my things though. I think that the nurses still have them.”

As soon as she opened the door though, three Baltic (Bat-Ponies to you uncultured and racist imbeciles) Nocturne guards and Her Majesty Princess Luna were already at the door; they invited themselves in, the Nocturne waiting outside, and Luna facing both me and Bloody Merry with the grimmest of expressions.

“We need to speak of something that involves the direst of circumstances.”

______________________________________________________________________________

Canterlot University Library, Arcana Wing 7:05 PM

We went into a place unknown to even Celestia, a secret wing of the library of Canterlot University, hidden away under the university library’s basement level. It was filled with tomes ancient and strange, tablets of unknown origin in bookshelves of creaking oaken wood. The books were behind zigzagging iron bars and iron chains with welded locks bearing a similar symbol, a branch-like symbol to the one etched in the ‘sword’ I tied to my back. The electric lighting was dim, and to my surprise, no guards of any sort.

Her Majesty had already told us how she came upon that information––she had tortured a survivor of an attempted assassination attempt to herself in her own bedchambers. Though it wasn’t an assassination attempt from what she had the poor imbecile confess. It was worse; the seven enchanted spears were imitations of the old Norse god Odin’s legendary Gungnir. And with them, they sought to take control of her while in her sleep.

He confessed that he was Sergeant Flamel of the Unicorn Royal Guard and that the whole of the officers in it was in the Thule Society as soon as they reached adulthood, their families inducting them into to it as part of the tradition.

He didn’t know who the Grandmasters in the Old World were, but he said that the only Grandmaster left in Equestria was Arpeggio Philharmonic himself. He had sacrificed the rest for Nightmare Moon’s body and had the Unicorn Royal Guards that were Thule like him armed with foreign weapons and to pledge their allegiance to him.

Arpeggio was working on a hidden project that not even the Unicorn Royal Guard officers themselves knew.

But he also confessed after further pain from Princess Luna that Arpeggio, through the convincing of his witch wife Greenteeth, had been using the grimoire known as the Al-Azif to use magic from beyond, as he put it.

Princess Luna, in her infinite wisdom, decided to bring me and Bloody Merry along just in case anything unexpected happened.

Truth be told I had heard legends of the Al-Azif; it was dreaded among occultists like myself. Considered something indominable, and capable of summoning powers incomprehensible and unfathomable.

If the Thule had been using it, then we figured we had better get to it and glean information on how to undo what it has wrought on the world.

I was being flanked by the three Nocturnes, and in front of me was Princess Luna, Bloody Merry and finally the head librarian of Canterlot University, who complied with our request at the threat of imprisonment.

Eventually, we reached a vault, and behind it an iron door. He placed a key in it and then galloped away from all of us as quickly as his legs could carry him.

Princess Luna looked back at me.

“Folklore, thou first.”

I complied and I entered the room.

It was a blank reinforced concrete room; it was symmetrical, with no distinguishing features except for a single pedestal holding a rather compact looking tome.

No larger than me head and about as thick as two bricks. It was bound in worn equine leather. I approached it, then the door behind me shut with a resounding slam. The tome opened, its pages quickly turning on their own.

Until they stopped midway, then I looked at it, its strange and incomprehensible characters written in what I could very well tell was long ago dried equine blood.

It started glowing a sickly yellow. And then blank…

______________________________________________________________________________

Inside the Necronomicon Room 

I slowly opened my eyes; I was on the floor, still wearing my long black overcoat. I then felt a splitting migraine and nausea. I heard banging on the door from outside. I quickly galloped, hastily towards it and opened the iron door. Then I vomited a thick yellow slime that shot out of my mouth on the floor in front of the Nocturne, Princess Luna and Bloody Merry.

I continued expelling it for all of ten seconds until I collapsed on my knees, and I looked up at them, my groggy eyes still trying to catch up with my mind.

I said the following to them.

“What have they done?”
> Chapter XXI: The Ascended
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

And move we did, Luna and I took the lead with Merry and the Nocturne Guard close behind us covering our flanks and the back. We all, with exception to Princess Luna, had our weapons drawn. I had my snubbed revolver and the Hyborian Blade, as Luna actually referred to it back in the hospital, both floating to my sides as I telekinetically held them for hasty use. Merry had a stiletto dagger in her mouth, with the Germanian Automatic Rifle strapped to her back while the Nocturne had their enchanted Lightning Spears charged up and ready to fire. 

We kept a careful pace, and we kept our senses at a high pitch for anything unusual. Especially me. 

We expected the university library to be empty at that hour; it was, but here was the problem. The lights were off; normally some lights are left on and a security guard is left near the library. This of course is based on me assuming that Canterlot University ran similarly to the university I studied in Athena University. And since both Athena University and Canterlot University where pretty prestigious universities I considered that to be a possibility. 

But here was the thing, it felt empty.

It became more apparent when we left the library in formation that something was coming, as we moved through the open fields between the building of the large campus there was no wind blowing, no sounds in the distance coming from the city, no sound from crickets or owls that are native to the area either. 

Not a single light was on either, no lamp posts, all windows dark as the night. Only the stars and the full moon were giving any illumination that night. 

None of that is a good sign; it was as if the world lay waiting for something that even the very forces of reality fear. 

We continued trotting; we were all on edge. Stillness like that wasn’t natural, it was usually an indication that something was amiss in the natural order. Something the animals felt spooked them, and something that either took away or made aware of all the ponies to stay away. 

And then we saw them clad in golden robes with their faces hidden away in inexplicable shadow, making me unable to see any sort of feature. Three ponies whose ethereal presence was nonexistent in any other part except, ironically despite the blindness I suffered to their features, their faces.  

Their faces began to glow a gold in a frequency of energy I recognised too well, Ether Formed Plasma. 

I instinctively jumped to the right flank and rolled to get some extra distance and finally I pulled my snubbed-44.revolver, aiming at the one to their far left and pulling back the hammer, all in a single series of fluid motions.  Princess Luna raised an ether construct, a barrier shaped like a round Celtic Iron Shield but of the color of the translucent blue of her aura. It was three times her size and was shielding Merry and the rest of the Nocturne Guard. 

They formed a spearhead formation with the one in the center stepping, or rather floating quickly forward, and all fired three streams of E.F. Plasma at the group and hit three separate parts of the shield that Princess Luna manifested, and as the construct was made with iron in mind, it began to quickly melt in three separate sections, one in the bottom left, another at the top and another in the center, forming craters of molten ether and a shield that was in only a couple of seconds about to be pierced. 

I fired three .44 rounds in rapid succession to the Golden Robed Pony at the point of the spear.  Three yellow tentacles, practically faster that I could follow, appeared out of the face and grabbed something in midair; I could even see the small shockwaves at the tips at the tentacles that indicated that whatever they caught was going at supersonic speed. 

They then to my horror they opened, letting drop the perfectly intact .44 round bullets I fired. 

Luckily that got them to stop before they could reduce Princess Luna’s construct to molten Ether Iron. 

And then all three looked at me. 

But then to my horror, and from what I could catch with my peripheral vision three out of the four Nocturne Guard Escort took off into the air and two tried to flank by the left side of the spearhead formation and one by the left. 

I, Merry, and Princess Luna at once yelled. “WAIT!” 

The poor bastards didn’t even know what hit them. 

The ones attacking the left fired their Lightning Spears only for the electric shocks they fired to be dissipated upon contact with one of the Golden Robed Ones.

In that instant, one flew––somehow still completely covered in its robe––upfront to one of the Nocturne Guards and fire an E.F. Plasma stream and melted the Baltic’s head right off, while at the same time a tentacle emerged from its face and crisscrossed and ripped the wing of the other one accompanying him as both bodies fell, and I saw the one living scream in agony as his blood sprayed from the mangled stump that was his right-wing. Not soon after I heard both the screeching of steel and the ripping of flesh and bone as I quickly looked to the right to see the guard that tried to flank the right ripped in half––not just his flesh but his armor, as if it was naught but mere tissue paper, and I looked in horror as the robed pony that did the deed had both halves in separate sickly yellow tentacles as it was covered in its victim’s blood as more blood spilled from the legs and bottom torso, the deceased face contorted and bug-eyed as with mouth agape as if trying to scream but incapable of doing so. 

It all happened so fast, no more than seven seconds and almost half of our group was nothing but mangled body parts, a headless armored corpse with a catheterized neck, and a currently bleeding to death one-winged Nocturne Guard trying to hide the fact that he is still alive. 

Then I heard the galloping, and an airship above our heads, followed by the fall of rope between what was left of us and the Golden Robed Ones. 

Six Thule Soldiers, naturally all unicorns came down the ropes armored and telekinetically wielding their Germanian Automatic Rifles. They began firing figuratively from their hips as they came down, they at first started firing in the general direction of the Golden Robed Ones, but then as soon as they noticed us they fired our way. Luna, in half the time it took to blink, teleported in a flash of lightning to the Nocturne Guard, and while she avoided the fire, once she got next to him, she started receiving the rifle fire. About five shots grazed her, about four hit her left back leg, and three her right foreleg, with the expected sounds of the ripping of flesh and shattering of bone that one expects with that, she cried out in pain. The look of the blood splatter that was spilled from her flesh was almost surreal, it is rare to see a demigod bleed, and in all honesty, it brought to my attention of just how much technology had changed the rules of facing a Monsters and Divine beings. We mortal equines are actually pretty frightening ourselves, how we can create ways around our own fragility, and have the callus arrogance to fight and then even supplant our former predators out of their place in the food chain. Wouldn't have had it any other way, if it wasn’t for the fact that was perhaps the greatest lie in world history. 

“GHAA! DEVILRY!” She naturally yelled pain is not exactly something one forgoes even with regenerative abilities like her, truth be told I was surprised she was still standing with that many holes in her legs. 

But then she quickly teleported to a nearby Neo-Classical building, probably the faculty offices to our right with her injured steadfast tin soldier, bit her tongue, and I heard as the Ether discharges were pushing out the bullets and her flesh and bone rapidly healed. 

I? I had already activated me ‘trinket’ and had already done my best to move forward and avoid the Automatic Rifle Fire but even then I think that I got about ten grazes, and I definitely felt at least five holes in me back. I turned off my nerves, an old trick that I mastered after I came back to Equestria after the Shiba-Gallic War but that I ironically had to be fully sober to use. It didn't change the fact that the damage was there, and that I probably leaving behind a trail of me blood around no matter how invisible I appeared to be. 

They then reached the ground and I heard more come into the open common areas of the University, coming down from the airship that I heard was currently flying away, starting to engage the Golden Robed ones. And heard them drop the clips and start to reload. I let me adrenaline wash through my system, and I unsheathed my Kurdish Dagger, I was already between them. And I went all out. 

I proceeded to quickly slit the throat of the one to my left, he couldn’t yell out but him falling to his knees and the crimson blood splatter across me face and right forehoof told me that he was as good as a corpse. Two of them pulled their Parabellum Pistols, I disengaged my trinkets, and then they aimed for me skull and horn where I quickly hit the one to my right aiming at my horn with an ether charged elbow strike lightly above the right rib cage hitting some nerve endings connected to the right forehoof causing him to fire and shoot the one at my ten o’clock slightly above his left eye blowing his brains out, who I pulled in closer before the momentum could take him and shoved the pistol he was still holding with his right forehoof to the mouth of the guy whose body I used to kill him by pulling that guy slightly with my telekinesis to make sure that would happen which I telekinetically squeezed that forehoof causing it to squeeze the trigger and kill the guy. As soon as the bodies dropped I took their Parabellum Pistols and telekinetically wielded them both as I re-sheathed my Kurdish dagger.

The other three reacted on instinct and pulled their own Parabellum Pistols and tried to fire from the hip only for me to telekinetically take one of them that was wearing a mask and slightly heavier armor by pulling on his industrial-looking armor and using him as a shield and letting him take the brunt of his squadmates reckless from-the-hip firing. And I could hear, as the bullets went through the steel armor but lodged themselves in her flesh, that he was a she, as I heard her pained cries; the armor didn't exactly allow for me to see her feminine figure.  I threw her aside as I fired from both the telekinetically lifted Parabellum Pistols and shot both of their horns off, and as they were using them to lift their Germanian Automatic Rifles while trying to reload them, their horns backed up the ether and their heads exploded like rotten pumpkins filled with nitroglycerin, only with blood, brains, and bone instead of pumpkin pulp. Which all spilled on me over me face and my overcoat. 

The Armored Thule unicorn mare that I had thrown aside came at me with a Germanian Combat knife I dropped me guns and I pulled out my Kurdish Dagger, I wanted to see the face underneath the mask after all. No need to render it unrecognizable. She slashed at me from the left and I parried the strike and use my right forehoof to grab her Masked Helmet of her face and I see a yellow unicorn mare with a mint green short cut mane. She then stabbed at me, I used that helmet with my left forehoof to block the strike and I then let it go and gave her a left hook on her chin hoping that would knock her out, but it did no such thing. She only got angry and yelled at the top of her lungs with her horn aglow, only for me to forward and stab my Kurdish Dagger through her mouth until blade came out the back of her skull in a single fluid motion. 

Her body quickly got limp, dropping her rifle and Germanian Combat Knife, and I was going to remove the Kurdish carefully but then around seven sickly yellow tentacles went through her armor and it forced me to remove the Kurdish Dagger forcefully forcing her front teeth to pop off and spilling more blood upon me face. The Golden Robed One tore through that mare’s corpse vertically through the center with the sounds of the ripping of flesh, breaking of bones, and tearing of steel that I recognized so well. 

And I came to face with it and I quickly saw that the Golden Robed One had no face but instead an Orb Shaped Portal to an unknown realm of stars underneath its apparent horn that seemed to belong to a pitch-black unicorn or a thin nearly skeletal complexion. 

I was then pushed aside by what I could smell is the feminine but strong perfume of Bloody Merry as she stood on her back legs holding two Germanian Automatic Rifles with her stiletto on being held in her mouth. Her trench coat was wide open and the western winds were making it wave as if a flag, giving me a view of her blonde tail and large brick-red arse, something that I could view even as I was at her left side. 

And she fired wildly from the Automatic Rifles at the Golden Robed One, which spawned a myriad of uncountable sickly yellow tentacles from its Face Portal, as they moved faster than even me eye could see, stopping and even deflecting the rifle bullets forming sparks in the air. Then I saw Princess Luna come down in a bolt of lightning from the sky between then pushing back the tentacles in the shock wave and causing Merry to lose her hoofing and fall to the ground barely holding on to the rifles; this formed a heated scorching crater in the dirt and the University Cobbled Stone crisscrossing paths that lead to building to building. 

Princess Luna was bare, she at some point had taken off her Royal Regalia, chest piece, black stone tiara, and silver shoes where gone. Her large literal star-spangled mane tied in a bun to prevent it from obscuring her vision. She then telekinetically sent a massive shock wave launching the Golden Robed One into the air. And for a moment, I caught a glimpse of the other two Golden Robed Ones ripping and shooting E.F Plasma Streams at the Thule soldiers, shredding and melting them, steel armor and all. 

Princess Luna then looked back at us, her wounds seemingly healed, and she then flew with great speed and grabbed us both, teleporting away with both of us. 

The tunnel of light one sees during teleportation is strange and makes me somewhat uneasy, the geometries are hard to identify and often bring me nausea. 

We materialized inside what appeared to be an electrically unlit office space. 

The desks of what appeared to be the faculty along with various comfortable looking swine leather furniture with brass accents and a solid varnished mahogany floor with Scorpanian carpets scattered about. Pretty much what you would expect of an expensive and prestigious university in the second wealthiest city in Equestria, the capital, and one of the wealthiest cities in the world. 

I then proceeded to soil with my blood mixed vomit, particularly the mahogany floor. Truth be told I was in no position to control myself, but I felt no remorse about it, after all, I’ve been through and the general attitude of Canterlot’s upper-crust, the city could kindly kiss me arse and rightly fuck off. 

I tried wiping my mouth but I just stained me face with more blood, not mine, but still annoying. 

Speaking of me own blood, I was still bleeding on that floor too, less, naturally. But I also then felt my nerves again. It was painful. Nausea that was caused by the teleportation was creeping up because I was stupid enough to keep my eyes open during it was creeping in again.

“Uuuugh, bloody fuckery. That is something I’m gonna have to get used to.”

I then slapped me face to try and get a grip and get meself back into the fight.
> Chapter XXII: The Fallen
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“If me guess is correct, I will need some pliers ten protein injections, some surgical pincers, drinking water. And two O Negative Blood Packs. ” 

Princess Luna was the first one to answer my rambling, as I wasn't even expecting an answer really. 

“Can we enquire thee of the reason for such a request?” 

I plainly answer while going over to the wall to lean on it, wondering how safe we were for the moment. 

“If the gift ya so gracefully bestowed to me works the way I think it works, then it can be accelerated if I fill my body with the right solutions. Remove the bullets, inject protein and drink plenty of water and I’ll be good in a short while. I also need to regain some of me lost blood. On second thought bring some to the remaining Nocturne, he probably needs three O Negative Blood Packs if he has been bleeding until this point.” 

Bloody Merry answered to that. 

“Then I will fetch meds, there should be a campus infirmary or a hospital nearby, right?” 

And since I was getting comfy bleeding on the wall; it was only natural that I had to get up. 

“All right, all right, Princess Luna, can I have a feather?” 

Her cheeks actually reddened. 

I then felt like slapping myself in the face when I remembered that Persian pegasi traded feathers to signify engagement. Sure Luna and Celestia were born alicorns, but they are familiar with the customs, and while I was a unicorn myself, among both Celtic and Gallic unicorns, the custom of taking the feather of a pegasus mare lover and writing a love letter with it to signify engagement was another. 

“It’s just for spellcraft. If you can saturate with a good amount of ethereal energies that would be preferable, please.” 

Princess Luna actually looked to be slightly frowning at that, not the frowning of realizing she was the butt of a joke but more like the frowning of disappointment like you are being told that you can’t drink that milkshake for some reason. 

But she stretched out her left-wing and saturated a single midnight blue feather in the center of the wing, giving it a rather ostentatious star blue hue; she then plucked it with her right forehoof. 

I took it with me own right forehoof, that was a mistake because it burned my fur, and started cooking the flesh in me hoof. I personally didn’t scream, though I did bite my cheek; nevertheless, I then grabbed the feather with me telekinetic grip.

“Merry, mind coming a little closer for a second?” 

She did as she was told and I unsheathed my Kurdish dagger nad I quickly sliced-off some strands of her long blonde mane, and telekinetically lifted them. 

I then took out my ‘trinket’, the hyperborean perception amulet that I often used. 

I took the bronze looking hyperborean perception amulet, and tied Princess Luna’s glowing feather to it with Merry’s blonde hair, and hoofed it over to Merry herself. 

“Place that in one of your pockets, preferably one with a button to keep it in there. The charge of the perception dampening effect should last ya around half an hour, should give ya enough time to come back with the medical supplies. I may not be a medical doctor but as a chemist familiar with my cellular biology and a decent understanding of equine anatomy I think that I can probably patch meself and the suspiciously not groaning Baltican that is somewhere in this office space. Now be careful.” 

Merry sighed, and took the amulet, placed it in her pocket and said, “You better not be dead by the time I come back.” 

Last thing she said before she disappeared at that moment. 

And ad that moment the Baltican Nocturne guard spoke up and revealed his position. 

“Uuuugh, I miss rifles.” 

He was currently sitting in one of the seats with a sluggish complexion, considering the amount of blood he lost I was surprised he was awake at all, but the same could have been said about me, but then again I was recently enhanced. 

“Princess, I think we should get him to a hospital as soon as possible, ya think that the Canterlot Hospital has a Growing Lab? He still is within the sample gathering threshold for a Limb Growing and Reattachment Surgery.” 

“Healers in Equestria are capable of those feats now!?” She said, actually being surprised. I, on the other hoof, answered like a tired janitor working in a school. 

“Only in certain hospitals that have the funding and the really well-trained doctors to do so, it’s a fairly new science so not many doctors know how to do it.” 

“If Heracles had not slain the Hydra, or at least had kept some of its flesh preserved, perhaps we or those before us could have created the art before our banishment. Though that would be quite doubtful. As it would be mere chance that any pieces of Heracles’s Labors would survive to even ours and Celestia’s youth.”

I considered what she said, and answered well enough, I guess. 

“No point in punishing yerself for that, it was out of yer control. Hopefully, that procedure will become far more common in the future.”

Then it happened; the concrete and glass side of the office space’s window frame was pierced by several sickly yellow tentacles, ripping the steel, concrete, and elegant glass windows from the side of the faculty office space in the blink of an eye, and there were, floating, all three of the Golden Robed Ones, and I saw as those tentacles retreated back into their Face Portals. 

I reacted by taking the Hyperborean Balde I had in me back and throwing it to Princess Luna, and took it with her right forehoof as she flew towards them screaming at the top of her lungs at them; they fired their E.F. Plasma streams towards her and she used the blade as a shield as the Elder Sign glowed from the blade and it redirected the E.F. Plasma everywhere, scattering lines of melted concrete, steel, and burned leather and wood. 

She used a telekinetic shockwave to push back two Golden Robed Ones from the window and went after the two, they unleashed a myriad of tentacles but she sliced them off as if mere, well, FLESH. I would have stayed staring had I, not me own problem. 

I was faced with an E.F. Plasma stream and I rolled once to avoid it, and then galloped as fast as I could, ignoring my bullet wounds mostly due to adrenaline and me Nervous System Numbing technique, as I was doing me best to outpace the creatures neck. The Baltican had already ducked and was trying to crawl out of the room, which I noticed as I blatantly galloped past him and a stream of E.F. Plasma passed a mere centimeter above his ears. 

I galloped out the door and I could hear the accursed monstrosity flying in my pursuit. 

The adrenaline was still pumping but a thought occurred to me as I was galloping around corners and smashing through a door into a break room. 

I telekinetically broke the electric lamp in the room’s ceiling as the Golden Robed One finally caught up to me and entered the room; I telekinetically pulled down the cables and I did so with such speed and targeted movement that I made the ripped electric cabling pierce the Equine like body of the Golden Robed One, and I passed Ether Formed Electricity through the thing, much more than the cables were meant to handle so naturally the copper melted in seconds, and I galloped past the Golden Robed One, slowing it down while I performed the second step of me plan. 

I mentally concentrated on me hooves, both me back legs and me forelegs burning onto their sides, the Elder Sign. 

I didn't feel the burn, but I could smell it, the cooking and scarring of me own flesh for the chance that the Al-Azif told me. The thing that was long grafted into the Hyborean Blade, and was something that would gather energy from the universe itself, something that cancelled out their power. 

I continued and as soon as I got to the stairs I noticed that they went in a spiral pattern with the center having a gap in between the rows large enough to fit even a pony the size of Celestia. So I jumped down the gap fell three stories, and slowed down my descent with telekinesis upon me own hooves, just enough not to break me own legs, but still enough to let out a loud thud upon impact. 

I braced myself and then I headed straight to the main entrance of the building and headed right out to one of Canterlot University’s many large courtyards, and I caught quite the sight. 

Princess Luna was slicing the sickly yellow tentacles to ribbons, holding her ground as she used the Hyborean Blade to her advantage from the endless myriad of sickly yellow tentacles that kept trying to reach her, covering the surrounding area and herself in gunky yellow blood, her swinging like that of a mad mare, her eyes glowing a blinding white, and her metaphorical roar like that of a mighty typhoon in the open ocean, as she lifted herself off the ground and slowly floated closer to her opponent!

“AAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!!”

Before they both broke off and flew into the air, the Golden Robed One firing E.F Plasma streams and Princess Luna blocking them with the Hyborean Blade, both of them flying in various directions to try and catch the other by surprise. But then I noticed another Golden Robed One, its face glowing, so I sidestepped, and barely avoided the E.F. Plasma Stream. I heard as it melted the bases of lampposts and melted brick, steel, and concrete behind me. Naturally the E.F Plasma Stream instantly caught up with me since I hadn't moved much. And I crossed both my forehooves together to see if my gamble would workout for the better. 

The E.F Plasma Stream hit, but it dissipated into nothing only slightly causing me long black overcoat to perturb smoke. 

The Golden Robed one stopped firing it’s yellow E.F Plasma stream, the sleeves of me overcoat permeated with white smoke, me hat was much the same. 

It made a serpentine advance towards me, sending several sickly yellow tentacles at me I stood in me back legs and I delivered a well-calculated left jab punching it away, and another tentacle came and I grabbed it with my right forehoof. The tentacle was tough like bronze coil; it was devoid of any octopoid features, but yellow, and half the girth of me foreleg. It then grabbed me and threw me into the air, causing me to lose me hat. 

I yelled in compulsion and panic. 

“WHOAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” 

As I began my descent, I was then snatched out of their air by forelegs of midnight blue that could only belong to Princess Luna. As I looked down, I saw that we were flying right above the ground of the university and turning back to the area. 

I see me opponent, the Golden Robed One, fire his E.F Plasma stream at me, and Princess Luna, already having the Hyborean Blade in her telekinetic grip, shielded us. She then flew us back to the university open area were we all where fighting him and as soon as we were relatively close to the ground she let me go; I then rolled on the ground to break my fall, and I heard as Princess Luna landed on my left, something that I could certainly tell was her by both her Ether signature, and the smell of sweaty mare that I caught from where I was standing.

Then all we were hearing at that moment in the night was a haunting silence. Again an unnatural stillness. 

I don’t see the Golden Robed Ones anywhere, which by itself is quite concerning, as it’s quite difficult for me to lose the presence of an opponent, they were probably seeking to ambush us. So I decided to say out loud the following to get her up to speed, as she was the one that had the power to pull off what I had in mind anyway. 

“I have a plan, but it cou-”

Then Princess Luna teleported in front of me, her staring down on me with what seemed like… A flushed face? 

She then pressed both of her forehooves to hold on to my cheeks and pressed her lips to mine, HER LIPS! The lips of one of, if not the, most beautiful and dangerous mare in the western hemisphere, she aggressively let her tongue into me mouth and had mine at absolute submission, I felt like I was running up and somehow not sinking into the grand waves of the ocean in the middle of a storm, the wind and the might of the world in all of its glory were me ally instead of being cruelly indifferent to me meager existence. 

I could feel the strange gaseous and slime hybrid consistency of ectoplasm come into me mouth, and I also felt how she twirled her tongue around mine once. 

It all lasted a second but I was left stunned. She let out a sigh and slightly pondered the following. 

“We would expect such venomous bile like the essence of Hastur to have a taste, but it did not, and thy secretions taste somewhat like mentha and charco-” 

Then they came flying at high speed; the two Golden Robed Ones we were engaging fired their E.F. Plasma streams. I got on me back legs and crossed me forelegs, dissipating the E.F Plasma stream aiming at me, and I noticed that Princess Luna was to me right shielding herself with an ethereal shield construct and with the branch-like symbol of the Elder Sign, causing the E.F. Plasma stream to be dissipating as well. 

I then saw in me mind's eyes sickly yellow tentacles behind me and Luna; she probably noticed as well as she teleported out of there and threw me the Hyborean Blade that I telekinetically caught in midair and in a single fluid motion sliced the slickly yellow tentacle before it could effectively spear me. The tentacle then retreated around me and back into the Face-Portal of the Golden Robed One. The other one that was after Luna missed and then retreated much the same and Luna’s Golden Robed One opponent flew after her as she was above us. 

This entire time we had all been fighting the damned abominations I noticed that they had  equinoid like bodies except for their faces being portals to some unknown realm where they summoned tentacles and ethereal formed plasma streams; they floated and flew around in fields of ethereal energies that felt too inequine to be from the unicorn-like bodies, so it was obvious they also came from the Face Portals. 

Their reliance on their Face Portals from defense to attack proved to me one thing, their bodies were vulnerable, which would have also explained why we could never get behind of flank them. That was their major weakness and they were doing all in their power not to allow anypony in their blind spots. 

It began flying again in serpentine fashion, firing E.F Plasma streams at me. I, bearing the Hyborean Blade, managed to shield myself and avoid the blasts, leaving behind scorched holes of melted dirt and rock on the ground and the cobblestone paths. As I did that and kept moving I surrounded meself in a telekinetic field and was painfully removing the rifle bullets in me body with clenched teeth, the feeling of more ether coursing through me system helped, probably from Luna’s kiss earlier. It was actually two spells done at once, one to learn the knowledge of the Elder Sign from me through me spit, the other to pump her own magic into me through the mouth via ectoplasm to make it easier for me body to process her ether. 

I numbed me pain by blocking me nerves, I then floated the ten rounds that were in me body, charged them with ether and fired one with high telekinetic force, then another, then another, and another. I kept going until I exhausted all ten rounds and watched as each one pushed the Golden Robed One back further and further as it summoned many sickly yellow tentacles to shield it from the impact of the significant high piercing power of the bullets fired by me telekinetic force bolstered by Luna’s own ether coursing through me.  

I then heard a loud… BOOM!

On the floor next to us the other Golden Robed One that Luna had been fighting interrupted both me and me opponent as we both saw it impaled in large ether construct that was the color of Luna’s light blue aura; on its length, I saw a spiral pattern of Elder Signs glowing a moonlight white. The Golden Robed One impaled on the slight crater on the ground to me right’s face portal ceased to exist revealing a blank where the pony like creature’s face and jaw should be, instead of being a great gap who at the end of a curved patch of hairless skin, yellow blood splattered around it and its robed chest. 

That moment of observation was interrupted when me opponent Golden Robed One started to charge its E.F Plasma stream, only to be interrupted by Princess Luna teleporting and decapitating it in an upward slicing strike, sending its head flying into the air and its yellow blood spraying, covering most of the upper half of her body in it, and it went up high enough that I was partially drizzled in the substance, as I heard the thump of its head falling to the ground.

I felt a presence as we saw right above me, and Luna looking down on us a Golden Robed One, the one I incapacitated earlier with a high end electric shock. 

It then began flying straight for us; as Luna threw me the Hyborean Blade and I caught it in me telekinetic grip. Luna manifested a longsword made from her light blue ether, its blade completely etched in Elder Signs, We both galloped forward and screamed a loud battle cry. 

“AAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!”
“AAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!”

It was charging for a large E.F Plasma Blast and an uncountable amount of sickly yellow tentacles began to manifest out of its Face Portal. 

Our hooves glowed in both our respective auras and we flashed forward with great speed; we felt the tension in both our blades and I saw the Golden Robed One in me peripheral vision. We stopped, the air catching up with us and blowing dust behind us forward as the front of the Golden Robed One’s body flew above, covering our faces in the splatter of its yellow blood, and its lower half launched forward and bounced like a stone skipping over the water twice, leaving behind a couple of patches of yellowish blood splatter.

At that point Luna’s ether constructs all turned to glowing dust and I dropped the Hyborean blade, and at that moment we both collapsed and we rolled to our backs, we were both panting, and I started to bleed again, and I felt the pain. I could smell both her and me sweat in the air along with the smell of burned brimstone and the smell of two distinct forms of blood. I saw as the moon appeared again, full, and the stars once again shine in the sky. 

We laid there for a while, covered in yellow blood, and, in me case, yellow and now starting to coagulate red blood. Luna spoke first. 

“We can hear thee bleeding from here, Folklore.” 

I then retorted with a slight chuckle. 

“Ha-ow, I cannot help it, I think I’m still mostly mortal.” 

She then retorted with, “A decent quantity of nourishment should suffice to have thee in relative fighting condition by morning. Had we been pregnant or knowledgeable of the earthen mare ways, we might offer thee to drink from thy teats to hasten the process.” 

Well, that caused me eyes to practically pop out of me head. 

“As much as I would trade me soul for the offer, Princess, don’t joke about that. I am pretty sure that in your time, as much as mine drinking mare milk straight from the teat is quite the sexual fetish.” 

She snickered. 

“We are well aware, and we are not opposed to it; frankly thy fields have not been plowed and seeded in a ludicrous amount of time.” 

I knew she was teasing me, provoking me perhaps. 

“Princess, as flattered as I am, I’m pretty sure as I am now I would die––with a stupid grin in me face––but still very much stiffly dead.” 

She laughed bashfully, a welcomed and almost comforting noise really. 

“Unfortunately that would beith quite true. But speaking of which, we think that mare Bloody Merry fancies thee; if thou survives through this labor we have asked of thee maybe thou should consider plowing her fields. We have not presided over a wedding in over a millennium and we would enjoy the opportunity to do so again.” 

I sobered, and thought about it for a moment and said. 

“Merry maybe an assassin and quite the capable one, but I do not think it would be fair to bring her into me life. Both her and me line of work has a low life expectancy, either one of us could die at any day.”

Luna sighed.

“We think that is a greater reason to do so. Thou are thirty-five years of age, Folklore, unlike us, thou art still mortal. At thy age, most stallions have already married and have been raising foals by a couple of decades, probably four or five. It would be a shame that somepony like thee would not pass on his knowledge to descendants or apprentices before his demise. And I can imagine the potential of the foals from thee and that mare would have.”

I groaned a bit. 

“Times have changed, the usual age for marriage is twenty now and it is completely illegal before sixteen. And I wouldn’t like to bring foals into me world, not with war perhaps coming, and me own habits. In truth, any mare would be cursed with me. But perhaps yer right. If any mare can take it, it would be her, but even if we do something we might not bother to marry. I might treat her to dinner after all of this, not sure if that would go anywhere though.” 

I could hear the playful snicker from her. 

“If she denies thee, I call ownership of thy rod and seed sacks.” 

I laughed. 

“Ha, ha ha ha! Ow! Ow, ow. It hurts to laugh. With all due honesty, Luna, I think that ye can do better.” 

I heard her annoyed grunt. 

“We demand that thou cease that. Cease doubting thyself, thy callus depreciation is unearned, and it saddens me. And compared to what we did, thy sins can be mended. We do not blame thee, for the land that thou willingly fought for, forced upon thee to commit an act of horror of that nature. We let our jealousy consume us, and the Great Dreamer’s influence taint our mind. We want to leave that behind. Even if we cannot forgive thyself, we hope to continue to fight to protect the innocent, and at the same time bring enough joy to eventually atone for the horror we caused. Thee can do the same, and we would gladly help.” 

I sighed, and thought about it again, and ended the conversation. 

“Yeah, that would be nice.”

I said that but in all perhaps hope was not for the best, hope, in the end, made it all the worse… 

Hope in reality is the worst of all evils because it prolongs the torments of Equanity. - Fiery Abyss
> Chapter XXIII: Wound Licking
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

< > Translated from Ancient Celtic and Baltic

Canterlot Royal Hospital 4:23 AM

After a good long while of basically laying on the floor bleeding and Princess Luna getting up and bringing me a peanut bar that she took from the faculty Break Room, the very same one that I basically left with  a large hole in its ceiling due to me personal idea of a diversion involving telekinetically pulling electrical cabling from said ceiling and wrapping it around an abomination and passing high voltage through its nervous system. Which was nice of her, but I figured that it was what I needed to close me bleeding bullet holes and basically not pass out from prolonged blood loss. 

Students of Canterlot University that heard the commotion from their dorms or where in the publicly known areas of the library came to see what in tartarus was happening, and they noticed me lying there like a hobo, and Princess Luna sitting next to me waiting for Merry to comeback. The view of us covered in coagulating blood, me laying looking at the sky and Princess Luna sitting next to me, the scattered corpses, and the battle-scarred look of the area surrounding us, made them more than weary enough to not bother getting near, plenty of them whispering and looking scared out of their wits, they were all unicorns naturally, not like Canterlot University to accept any students of the other races. Add to the fact that the area where we started has three dead Baltic ponies, around twelve dismembered unicorn corpses and a lone Baltic Pony wing. Not to mention bullet holes and casings on the green areas, trees, and the cobblestone paths, and equine blood everywhere. Let’s just say that I had a hunch that things have already become quite the mess, well, more than it already was at any case. 

After that, Merry returned with the one-winged-Nocturne-royal-guard by her side with some bandages on him covering the wing stump and the torso, I also noticed that Merry was carrying what I presume to be his wing wrapped in newspaper pages in a bucket filled with ice, which she was carrying with her mouth, and saddlebags with the hospital's logo on them filled with what I assumed where the supplies I asked her to acquire. 

Our one winged Royal Guard was able to trot beside us because of an adrenaline injection and a blood pack that Merry was able to provide him with. 

We gathered, we didn’t say a word and we all wearily trotted out of the university with worry in our minds. I could tell that the others were just as bothered by all of this as I was, it was written all over their faces and their gait. 

The poor Baltic bastard mumbling, saying things like. 
“De-a lungul țărmului, valurile norului se sparg, Soarele gemene se scufundă în spatele lacului,
Umbrele se prelungesc.” Or in Anglo-Albion. ‘Along the shore the cloud waves break,
The twin suns sink behind the lake, The shadows lengthen.’

Probably some old song from his homeland, and after all I had to wonder how Baltica would react to the death of three Nocturne Guards, the tradition of sending them from their home in the Old-World to Equestria was started as a gesture of the alliance and friendship between both our respective countries. 

Baltica was perhaps the first to recognize The Kingdom Equestria as its own country back in year 1 C.R. Which was eight years after Celestia and Luna reached the North Equestrian Continent, and seven years after Celestia and Luna defeated Discord and were declared Rulers of Equestria. 

We made it to the Canterlot Hospital which though Luna’s word and us showing the severed Baltic batwing in the ice-bucket got us to get immediate medical attention. 

We went through the procedures and basically had to explain why Merry stole the supplies in the first place. 

It was a tad bothersome. 

Me, Merry, and the Baltic (who I can assure ya lot does have a name), where there licking our wounds. In me case getting protein injections, baked potatoes, and steamed broccoli, and access to the nearest restroom, not to mention water and plenty of it. While my metabolism and new bodily abilities went to work on quickly fixing me mortal shell enough to continue the work and investigation that was expected of me. 

Eventually, though, sometime after I had discarded me overcoat and fedora hat, and went through the necessary treatment I sat alone in the hospital room. 

I thought about what I had seen. The Golden Robed Ones didn’t appear to be involved with the Thule Esoteric Order, and they had an armored freight airship, to drop them and carry them off. That meant that they have the Thule Esoteric Order branch in Equestria is getting funding from their brothers from Germania back in the Old-World, and judging by the weapons, full backing from the Germanian Nazi Party with what must have been armaments that were freshly designed and manufactured. 

I figured that was the case but in the end, I needed names and addresses. If I got that I would have had full reign to assault and execute any of them at my leisure, though at the same time I was wondering why they were planning to do to Equestria. This seemed so far beyond a simple coup d'etat, they were dealing with powers too great for mere political gain, though considering that the rulers Celestia and Luna whose power was above the Parliament of Equestria were powerful and legendary supernatural beings in of themselves, they probably felt that anything less would be insufficient. 

But then again assuming that they are all working without deviation is silly, I considered that it was possible that Arpeggio Philharmonic may have been only playing along and in reality is planning to have Equestria for himself.  But then how did the Golden Robed Ones factor into all of it? It’s possible that the Hastur might have called upon his cult, and that the Golden Robed Ones were once ponies mutated to their forms as a blessing from their High Priest, The King in Yellow, and that Hastur had approached his High Priest and his cult to deal with any that would get in their way towards dominion over the world, may they be the Thule-Nazi’s, Celestia and Luna, Arpeggio and the more self interested nobles, or me. 

Though maybe Arpeggio is no longer of his own mind and his mind belongs to Hastur, and by extension The King in Yellow and the Cult of Hastur. Meaning that Octavia is the key to the plans of the Cult of Hastur. Whatever the King in Yellow is planning, it has to do with Octavia Philharmonic and her music. I just hoped that I wasn’t too late. 

I continued sitting there uncaring to the passage of time thinking on just what was the best course of action at some point eventually I heard the door to the hospital room open as I was looking to the ceiling.  

I could feel the ethereal signature of Celestia coming in, behind her was Luna. I decided to look at their direction to find that Celestia had something that was akin to a scowl, but the furrowing and the sheer anger in her eyes made it evident that she was very crossed with something, and that something must have naturally been me fault.  

“Do you two have any idea what you two have done? Twenty-five Unicorn Royal Guards are dead, the mayor of Canterlot has informed me that two blocks are without etherelectrical power, natural gas, or steam. Two distinct areas of Canterlot University’s courtyards look like a battlefield. I have twelve Germanian unicorns ripped to pieces, incinerated, or blown up. Do you and Luna realize that is excuse enough for war? There is a big mess, and you better have good enough reason why the bodies piled up like this because I am having some old memories being brought back into the forefront of my mind of the Anatolian Crusades against the Serpent-Equines and that is not something I want to see again upon the world. Forgive me Folklore but I will not give the mad ponies across the Ocean of Atlas an excuse to come goose-stomping around Europa to then start getting ready to perch both the damned Black Sun and the Swastika over Canterlot, which I can assure they will start by doing that very same thing in Manehattan.” 

I personally didn’t expect her to be that outwardly upset, though to be fair she was just looking out for Equestria, centuries of doing everything in her power to keep Equestria in relative peace and avoiding conflict with the surrounding rising empires, and generally keeping Equestrian neutrality was the most important goal in her mind. Equestria was both resource and financially wealthy and had the world's largest economy, second only to the Xing Empire, then the Germanian Empire. Followed by the Russ Empire, and then the Kingdom of Albion which itself is also an Empire. 

North Equestria was the third largest continent and the Kingdom of Equestria controlled most of it. The population at the time was around one hundred million including the supernaturally inclined. 

But then again we were only fourth or fifth in population size, despite having what amounted to the third-largest country by landmass. 

And all of it was done by either negotiation or the claiming of wildlands abandoned for centuries by bygone civilizations. Equestria had had only two civil wars, and one unification war in its past. Any Equestrians that had gone to war afterward volunteered to become career soldiers fighting for foreign countries, much like myself, or were licensed mercenaries fighting for again ‘foreign countries’ or private enterprises. 

Meaning that Equestria was a sleeping giant, if provoked it could potentially become the most feared force on the planet, and everyone with a desk and a say in the matter of the most powerful nations in the world knew it. 

The main issue with Celestia is that if that became the case if Equestria would be provoked it would become no different than the other empires that came before her. And potentially it would become the most powerful nation in the world. 
 
Millions would die, Equestrians and foreign alike. The things that Equestria would do to ensure its survival would turn it into a monster. It would become just another in the list of empires that tried to control the world. 

With all of that in mind, I steadied myself. 

“As you probably know we had a firefight in the sewers. Me and Merry that is. We were going to meet with a contact and see how to best approach all of this. Unfortunately, we faced some well-armed resistance down there that was after our contact as well, there was also a horrid creature that is difficult to explain really. To me knowledge, it is something called a Shoggoth, an artificial creation from a bygone species from outside our world that that species used for slave labor. It's possible that the hostile party acquired or made one but they lost control. Then everything turned into a massive clusterf-eh fany. 

I felt a tad flustered at that. I almost let me filthy mouth run freely in front of Princess Celestia.

“We survived talked to our contact and waited for the night. After that I brought Merry to get patched up for her one bullet injury, it didn’t penetrate the flesh and hit vital organs but she needs some bandages and some painkillers. After that Luna summoned us and explained that Sargent Flamel and the whole of the Officer in the Unicorn Royal Guard where members of the Thule Esoteric Order, most of them inducted by their families as tradition. 

“They naturally where the soldiers that fought us in the sewers. We then headed to Canterlot University where Sargent Flamel said the Al-Azif or the Necronomicon as it is known is located, which is used by Arpeggio and his wife Greenteeth. As a sorceress yourself Princess Celestia I think you are aware of that grimoire’s reputation. 

“After studying it and getting quite a bit of information into the sort of magic that Arpeggio and Greenteth had used, even on their own daughter Octavia. But as we were on our way to leave Canterlot University we were ambushed. Oddly enough by two different sides, the Golden Robed Ones who I considered to be creations of the Cult of Hastur. The Thule also had brought in better soldiers, probably the Gemanian’s ye were talking about. As they got me and Luna with quite a few hits, had decent aim, especially for using ‘machined rifles’. Unfortunately, the Golden Robed Ones killed three out of the four Nocturne Guards that were with us. 

“Me and Luna managed to finish the Golden Robed Ones. Then Merry came back with medical supplies to help and here we are.” 

Celestia stood there patiently, and then let out a sigh. “Luna’s attempted capture was done as an attempt by the Thule Esoteric Order (the same with their attempt to wipe out the Branders) to wipe-out any threats to them.” She said putting that together, she then continued. “I knew Luna tortured viciously Sargent Flamel, while I did not approve of her actions, in the end, she got information that was pretty conclusive proof. I decided to let her go and let her get you and Merry to investigate the Al-Azif and then go after Arpeggio and Greenteeth. I know that a secret society conspiring to try and overthrow me with the aid of a foreign power is something that I should not let stand so it was better to let you and Luna deal with them. The Cult of Hastur has their own interests in all of this, deal with them as well. The King in Yellow cannot be allowed to bring his god to our world Folklore. From what I can tell it was Arpeggio and Greenteeth that made a deal with the King in Yellow, and they must have violated the terms of that deal for the creatures you call the Golden Robed Ones to go after Thule forces as well.” 

I began to raise me hoof. But then she interrupted and finished.

“I have known of the Branders from the newspapers for a couple of years Folklore, I haven’t demanded that the Canterlot Police or the Royal Guard to exert extra effort in capturing them because, in the end, their intentions were good. Plus, with the Police and the Royal Guard’s reluctance to get into the Canterlot Narrows, I felt that those vigilantes were the closest thing to policing that area was going to get. And I suspect you of committing your own acts of vigilantism yourself, you don't have to admit it, I can see it in your eyes. You can’t let injustice pass Folklore not completely, I could tell that from you when I first saw you as a little colt. Just try to contain the collateral damage all right?”

She said all of that, trotting out of the room. Leaving me and Luna alone, as we basically got out of that with just a slap on the wrist. 

“We see that our sister is under quite a heavy and bothersome burden. We must admit that she lacks an appetite for war, but when the necessity arises she can be quite fearsome. Though out of us both we were always more adept at the grisly art of bloodshed.” Luna said as if to assure me that in the end, Celestia will not abandon Equestria. But as for me, I was more worried if Equestria would become something unrecognizable without her if the worst was to happen. In truth what I had witnessed made me realize that in the end, we are all vulnerable.

I responded, basically thinking that I needed to get back to Pages and Stories and get some more ammo, get the Shoggoth that I have in an iron box. Now I need to ask Luna one specific thing. 

“I think that Philharmonic has earned himself the warrant now don’t ya think? Ya did get that confession out of Flamel. And I need to pick at the Philharmonic Manor thoroughly, finding  the list of members of the Equestrian chapter of the Thule Esoteric Order and the locations of any imported weapons and Shoggoths would be a great place to start.” I know, seems obvious to ye lot, but I could not really get inside Philharmonic Manor. Not because I couldn't get in, but because I figured that I couldn't get out without having to kill quite a few ponies, and get away with it. One thing is a shootout in a sewer, or a shootout or an alley fight in the Canterlot Narrows, another is a shootout in the ‘respectable’ Canterlot University and breaking into a noblestallions home without a warrant. 

The poor and the poorer areas of Canterlot are ignored and actively treated as filth that must be brushed away rather than fellow ponies or sapients for that matter. The aristocrats, Real-Estate tycoons, and Urban Developers relish a sudden drop in population in the Canterlot Narrows. Whether through eviction or tragedy, it gives them an opportunity to gentrify and ‘clean-up’ the area. So in truth, bad things are desired to happen there, and in fact, often enough happen there that plenty sees the denizens of that part of Canterlot as the real problem. 

And every time I think about it I want to arm explosives at the magical anchors holding the City of Canterlot in place, blowing them to the depths of Sheol and from a safe distance. I would watch the damnable Temple of Hypocrisy crumble and crush the bastards that made it that way into a crimson mist. It seems strange that I would follow the law then? Yeah, but I do not want to make an enemy of Celestia if I had proof I could at least avoid the confusion whether I was there to search the area or kill quite a few ponies that I didn't like for some reason. 

“We agree, but we also think that thou should get some ammunition and a proper meal first. Head back to thy storefront, and fetch what thee needs first.” 

Luna said that and I honestly thought about it for a second and I wanted to punch my own face for forgetting to mention the creature I have stored in the Iron Box. A creature that I am sure was a modified Shoggoth. 

Luna noticed the panic in me eyes and asked. “Is there a concern that we should beith aware of?” 

I looked at her trying me best to keep face. It did not work in the slightest, but I still said the following. “I’ll tell ya when I am sure. Better see the Baltic, after that I’ll head to the shop.” 

We left to see how the Baltic was doing, basically, me feeling that I should have reacted faster, though how possible that is up for debate.

I quickly looked myself over for how well I had healed up, in all I just had faint scars, and then I simply went for my clothing and leftover equipment, and put it back on, despite the ten bullet holes and the dried blood on the overcoat, oddly enough the sickly yellow blood from the Golden Robed Ones looks like gold dust. 

I found it curious but didn’t pay much mind to it at that moment. 

Me and Luna basically left the room arranged to me by the hospital and we trotted out of there with a general sense that things are too exposed. 

The hospital itself was moving along with its usual busyness, the moving of a few patients, the nurses fast trotting, sometimes practically galloping from patient to patient. This being the Canterlot Royal Hospital, everything looked immaculately clean. And the halls while plain, and painted a light green was quite spacious and had this Neoclassical Equestrian style to it. But at the same time, I could see it in the faces and the gaits… The ponies that got a sight of me and Princess Luna were afraid, we gave an intimidating presence naturally and that was something to take note of. Princess Luna was still in their minds as a living terrible legend brought back from the annals of history, I looked like the killer that I was. It hurt in a way, a reminder that in polite society we are not welcome. Its moments like that that made me think if civilization was even worth it? 

We eventually reached the Baltic’s room, and as soon as we went through the white door we saw him in the darkroom over his covers, bare from his armor His green irises were the size of pinpricks looking at the ceiling, unblinking. His grey fur  and earthly orange mane was cut low, understandable due to the helmet. 

I couldn’t help but feel sorry for the lad, naturally, I decided to take a closer look. From what I could tell he was breathing, but his eyes were looking at something far off, something inward like a memory. A stare a thousand kilometers away. I knew that well, I had been there, and sometimes I still am there. So I decided to get his attention. 

<“How are you holding up?”> 

He turned his head to me while sweating profusely like I had snapped him out of a bad fever dream. A dream of suffering and reliving horror after horror. In many ways that is the course of those that have been in true life and death struggle. We never leave. 

<“Relatively fine, just hoping not having to go through this all over again. When I became a Nocturne Guard, I thought that coming to Equestria would be only one step away from being confined to a desk position.”> 

I without thinking pulled one of my Jade Dragon cigarettes out of the carton in my right coat pocket. And then placed it in me mouth, just letting it hang there without lighting it. Mostly because as soon as I placed it there I remembered that smoking in a hospital and next to an injured stallion was a bad idea. But I think that it served to catch his attention more nevertheless.

<“In a way you would have been right. Had you come here in less interesting times. But from what I have experienced in the last ten months or so tells me that things in the roots of trees, and even above the stars are changing in ways unfathomable. An upheaval is on the horizon for the world. I am afraid to say that horror is something that not even neutral and profiteering Equestria can avoid. If it’s any consolation, you will not be the only one understanding the feeling of the flames of sheol anymore. So what do they call you?”> 

I meant that the second to last line metaphorically, though coming from me it is strange. I have felt and seen Sheol fire before, controlled it, and I even know how to summon it. (Though equine sacrifice is frowned upon, not to mention that you really can’t stop it. It burns even the stone and the water. I suspect that it’s plasma-like but I would have experimented with it a little.)

<“My name is Thrusting Valor, and your bedside manner is atrocious.”> He said frowning at me slightly but looking at me all the same. 

I bit off the bottom of me cigarette and placed me hoof on me mouth doing my best to cover the snicker. I would have laughed out loud but an injured traumatized stallion doesn’t exactly deserve the ridicule, but in all honesty, my sometimes childish mind found it hilarious. 

<“Sorry but in all honesty, it is difficult not to laugh.”> 

He stared at me with a natural look of annoyance. 

<“Can I get a rifle and a coat? I may be unable to fly for the foreseeable future but I can shoot.”> 

I could see it in his cat-like green eyes, the look. The look of somepony possessed. He wanted revenge for his comrades, or I considered that was what he wanted. Why would anypony go back to fight willingly in his condition? Only unfinished business on the battlefield brings sane ponies back to it. The ones that return to it are the ones that have nothing and consider their war buddies as a family or those that have forgotten what life outside of it is like. In contrast, there are also those that jump from battlefield to battlefield because only amongst the dead and bringing death is the only time they truly feel alive. That is what I learned from being among them, and being one of them.

Luna trotted to me, looking above me head at the stallion on a mission before me. 

<“Thou may have what thee needs.> Folklore, arm him.” She said this in a slightly older Baltic, but I could tell he understood fine. 

I knew that it was quite likely that he could die. But at the same time, I saw in him the same grim determination at making the deaths of his comrades count for something the same way that I had.

<“Come with us.”> A missing wing might not make him able, but something tells me that in a way he was already part of the living dead. And with that, I helped him up and we left the room. 

Merry was already leaning on the door wearing a black trenchcoat and black leggings.

“So Lore, what are you going to do now?” She asked with a tinge of excitement. She was eager but something told me that was more to do with keeping a strong facade. Though truth be told if her mind wasn’t made of sterner stuff she would have plunged into the depths of insanity in the sewers. Though one should note that those that are already insane in their own way are more resilient against the horrors of the unknown void than a perfectly adjusted member of society. 

“We are all going to the shop, I have something there that Princess Luna should see. And we should all get some damn breakfast.”  And so we were already on our way. 
> Chapter XXIV: Of Ransacked and Broken Things and Vengeance
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Pages & Stories Bookshop 5:15 AM

When we arrived I noticed with great distress the gaping orifice that now is there instead of the two windows and brick and wood that would normally be on the second-floor street-facing wall of uncle Archive’s shop. At that moment I looked upon that realizing that something from inside got out, and I had a strong suspicion as to what. And finally that until I got my remaining payment from Lady Luna I was basically in ruins. 

Merry, Valor, Luna and I stood staring at it, I was already on my knees in the realization that this meant that some of the grimoire, munitions, and the rifle and double-barrel in me possessions were damaged or simply gone. So I looked to the accursed heavens and yelled at the top of me lungs. 

“SON OF A BITCH!” 

I heard from behind me a comment from Valor, probably speaking to Merry out of concern for having to work with me eccentricities. 

“Is he going to be alright?”

As such Merry responded in kind, but with an exasperated annoyance. 

“He’ll be fine, this place might have been left to him by his uncle so he might feel strongly of this particular destruction. But this would actually be the third time someone has destroyed his home in some way. We may need to grab a sedative and some darts from his closet if he gets too rightly pissed-off though, can’t have him causing too much public or private property damage again.” 

There was a pause and I decided to get up and quickly trot over to the tattered shop. I took a look around and noticed the shop floor itself was not much worse than what I left it. Still as dusty, but at the same time, every book was there. (Though I honestly should have placed them better, and also gotten more shelves, some of them were basically stuffed in any space I could find for them.) Nothing really unusual, so I went up to the study and living quarters upstairs. 

It looked like a typhoon blew horizontally in a curve from my closet through my bedroom, then through my study and then became a solid sphere like mass that smashed so quickly through the street-facing wall of my second floor that it lest a perfectly round impression, though one large enough that it completely destroyed both windows in that wall and left a gaping orifice that could only be described as ludicrous. 

I looked around and I saw that my books, papers, scrolls of papyrus, files, were dispersed about like confetti, some of them lightly damaged, or even torn to shreds. 

I was irritated, to say the least. I basically had to make sure that I didn’t start setting the whole place on fire due to my temper getting the better of me.

I went into my bedroom and noticed that my impromptu laboratory has been shattered, my covers where overturned, and finally, I noticed that my picture with my Dust Bowl and Signature Typewriter was on the floor facing down. Its glass obviously shattered from what I could tell from the glass fragments around it. 

Then I trotted into my closet to see it completely intact oddly enough, except for the iron box in which I placed there which looked like something ripped it open from the inside. The worst part is that I put two and two together. 

What I had captured was the very same Shoggoth, that was destroyed by the Hyborian Blade. It escaped, probably by figuring out how to shed the weakness of it’s surgically injected fay and demonic part’s it then tried to learn what it could from what I had and promptly left.

“Oh crap, just how much damage could that bloodied thing have done?” 

I then take a look around, decided to look for the extra ammo I kept in there. The three separate boxes for my snubbed-44. Magnum. An enchanted incendiary box, illegal as Sheol's will, though considering that I made the enchantment on the rounds myself I basically am skipping around that law against buying them even for a licensed hunter like myself. 

The second was a little something I came up with, Ether Sleepers or just Sleepers. You lot probably already know about them, I invented the non-lethal bullet, unfortunately back then it was just the early ones that I made for myself with a fairly limited budget. 

Not as good as the model that I designed after it was possible for mass-production machinery to imprint pre-made enchantments, those were useless against ponies larger than the national average and would kill anypony smaller. (It’s actually quite funny that we had to steal the technology to allow machines to Enchant from the Thule shortly after this. For a bunch of racist lunatics, Sheol's fire bent on taking over the world their technology and knowledge in the uses of Ethereal Science was fairly more advanced compared to what most of the world had. Probably helped further inflate their egos.) 

The third was the regular but not to be trifled with .44 Magnum munitions. Powerful and with a kick. It can blow a ponies head clean off at point blank range. 

In all, I decided to only taking the first and last box. Because in my mind at the time, lethality was the only option. And to be fair, what was the point of using a barely tested form of ammunition that was meant to be non-lethal but could be quite lethal if used against the wrong body mass? 

After that I went to the area I kept my black overcoats, right next to my munitions, I set them aside and I then pressed a small hoof sized panel that caused a compartment about the right size to hide my Lead-Endfield Rifle. I was trained to use it during the Sheba-Gallic War, but naturally, I went through at least three rifles in the course of that conflict. So this was more of one that I was able to purchase with the Monster Hunter Certification. Which I gladly telekinetically grabbed and carried off. 

“Huh, maybe someday I will finish that. Yeah, if there is someday.” 

I could hear my companions and my client going up the spiral staircase. I decided to just trot out of the closet and meet them in the less than adequate remains of me study. 

“Hey Lore, we are coming in!” yelled Merry. 

I went there and stood in front of my bedroom door.

We met there, except for Merry. She passed me by without much thought and went straight to the closet. 

“All right, Valor? Follow me.” 

I threw Valor the Lead-Endfield and he caught it with his right forehoof. He somewhat staggered due to his weakened state. Though in consideration that it was only a few hours ago that he lost that much blood and a wing he should not even be with us. 

Though that would also double for me, I should have died. 

Nevertheless I trotted forward and Valor followed me, we both went down the spiral staircase. I placed my left forehoof around his neck. He was slightly startled but he did not dare move. I knew that it was best that I told him this away from everypony. I wanted an ace in the hole, he had the weapon for it now he needed ammunition, and the exclusive instructions so that the other would not be able to give him away with just the subtle expressions on their faces. 

“Look, I need you to do me a favor. I have a task for ya to do, and I need ya to do it at the precise moment that you hear a certain keyword. Now go behind the front desk, under it is a box .303 Albion Rifle Ammunition. I suggest you take as much as ye need.” 

I let him go and he quickly trotted a bit of uncertainty to the desk and went under it, and then showed his head to ask but a simple question. 

“Eh, sir could I ask for one of your spare coats if you have any? It's the only thing that I can think of that I can use to carry the bu-”

I had already started looking straight into his eyes with the right intent in mind, and I visualized the task vividly in the mind to further imprint it with the utmost subtlety… 

Ah mesmerism, always such a tool of difficult employ by those with a guilty conscience. But alas I wasn’t going to let the opportunity pass. No matter how wrong it was. 
______________________________________________________________________________

The Philharmonic Manor 6:23 AM

When we arrived at the manor the skies were eerily grey, while one would expect spring-showers, it was also cold which by itself was unnatural. There was also none of the guards or enchanted traps that I saw when I scouted last time I was there. It felt empty.

The entire area was empty, understandable really, the hour was such that it was the time that most working class ponies started their days, and the upper-class slobs were still asleep. 

I was flanked by Bloody Merry and Thrusting Valor who was wearing one of my black overcoats with the Lead-Endfield on his back, with Princess Luna in regalia and wearing a hooded black robe, made of a thousand shadow bat spirits. 

We trotted forward, doing our best to ignore it. But the stillness reminded me of last night. 

Me neck ached, I knew that it was the King in Yellow, that something of his was there. Part of me knew that I wasn’t ready for another fight. 

When we reached the door, Princes Luna opted to just try and open it. She tries turning the brass knob only for her to notice the two rather large double doors to be locked. 

And well… 

“We have not thee patience for acquiring a key to such a place. We shall destroy this obstacle post hate and with impunity.”

I immediately rushed beside her. 

“Yer majesty let me take care of this, no need to attract even greater attention to ourselves…” 

I said, with slight nervous sweat in me brow, for this move could have killed us all. Luna in her grace and also not one to question me at that moment stepped back a bit while I got to work. 

I concentrated and opened my mouth I then let gases ectoplasm pour from me muzzle. 

I let me horn aglow and the ectoplasmic gas crept into the keyhole and the mechanism of the lock. I visualized the mechanisms as my luminous ethereal extremities felt every piece of it. Then I found the right way to pick and pull the mechanism to seem like its key. 

And the click finally is there, and it opens. Luna takes a point without a word and opens the door. 

The smell hit me, the rusting iron like the smell of blood. Something had already happened here, the ether in the place looked and felt like it went through a lot of activities. Though the residual is strange. 

The light of the sun; if a tad dimmed by the clouds, was still present and the windows and 

“Ugh…” I murmured as I felt the mark on the back of me neck ache further, like a combination between a swelling infected slice of a steel blade, and the burning of the flesh of a branding iron. 

Had I been a sheltered stallion, I would have been screaming in agony. 

“Up the stairs, there something happened up there. I’ll take the point.” I say without thinking probably indirectly usurping Luna’s authority here. But I was impatient and I wanted to see what had happened yesterday. 

The Manor still maintained the Equestrian Neoclassical Canterlot aesthetic, noticing the painting of the family decorating the wall at the end of the staircase, made one thing clear. The filly that seems like a young Octavia did not look happy in either her solo portrait or the one with her family. 

When we reached the end I turned to me right. There we continued for war passing three doors until we reached the very thing that I was sensing the scattered body parts, organs, and bones of the ripped up Arpeggio Philharmonic and Greenteeth.  

Their almost dried up blood on the carpet and the fine wallpapered walls. Arpeggio’s head was still attached to his neck, left shoulder, left forehoof, and about more than half of his chest. From the looks of things, he appears to have been ripped at a great speed diagonally, his eyes lifeless but still very much open in abject terror in his final moments.  

The entire scene was saturated with the same sort of sickly ether that could only come from what I learned to be the King in Yellow. But I also felt something, else the ether pressure of the phantom of a pony that is a long magic practitioner. So I decided on what exactly to do. 

“He looks more messed up that I would like, but I think I can get him to talk, I believe his Luminous Ethereal Body is trotting around here somewhere. But I also feel that the trails of sickly ether that did this lead to the room in front of us. We go in there first, I rather not be defenseless if something were to try and kill us again. I also would prefer not to disturb this area, there is something of use here.” 

In a way, it would seem bizarre to most, how coldly we all treated what we saw. But in if taken into consideration the antagonistic relationship that me and Merry had with Arpeggio, Princess Luna’s nearly one-hundred years worth of experience in the battlefield, me own experience with war, Merry’s field experience as a glorified assassin for her country, and Valor’s survival of a horde of Strigoi… One would come to realize that we were more accustomed to death, even in such an unnatural and visceral form, it did not surprise us. And even if it brought back the worst memories we knew to best stay quiet, at least until we have some time to ourselves to properly deal with it.

Luna teleported in front of the scene with Valor, causing him to nauseate do to the experience of teleportation being a new one for him. He then vomited his early breakfast on the floor. 

“Agh, Apologies, I have never teleported before.” 

Luna sighed in annoyance and decided to give him a bit of advice.

“If thee wishes to avoid sickness withest in Luminous Step, thou must keep thy eyes closed. Traversing the space between realms is a tad much for the untrained mortal eye to take.” 

He didn’t retort back though, he simply said. 

“I will remember.” 

While me and Merry simply galloped on the walls. She on the right wall I on the left wall using ether to stick to it. We then landed in front of her majesty Luna and Valor. 

We all looked at the door and it suddenly opened, Luna charged her horn and Valor aimed me rifle, and Merry aimed the Parabellum-Pistole she had taken from the Thule Soldiers. What came out of the door was a white unicorn mare with a mane that was two different shades of electric-blue, with magenta eyes and rather modern looking sunglasses resting atop her horn. She had an Eighth note mark and overall looked like an electronic music Disk Jockey, if that same Disk Jockey went ahead and had passed through great emotional turmoil. This is noting the tears in her eyes and overall disheveled appearance.  That then sat and raised her forehooves in the air. 

“Fuck, If I am going to the slammer I’ll tell you all right now that those fuckers deserved it. Just don’t shoot, I’ll come quietly.” 

She said, almost rehearsed, she must have considered that their deaths would be pinned on her. 

“Stop, everypony calm down.” Luna ceased to charge ether to her horn and pulled back her hood. Causing the mare to take a couple of steps back. 

“Princess Luna?” She said as she was being stared down by one if not the scariest mare in the world. 

I decided to talk as me other two companions figured best to pull back their weapons. 

“All right, before we all do something rash. I’ll deal with introductions. Yer Majesty, this is Vinyl Scratch, miss Octavia Philharmonic’s first and current lover.” Vinyl’s eyes shrank to pinpricks, and in her panic she yelled. “How in tartarus do you know that!?” 

I simply answered. “Magick miss Scratch, Magick.” Which I followed by telekinetically taking out one of me Jade Dragons placing it in me mouth and pyrokinetically lighting to just emphasize me point. 

I took a small drag of it and continued. 

“Miss Scratch this is Agent Bloody Merry, Corporal Thrusting Valor, and The Mistress of the Night, The Messenger of Raijin, Princess Luna Selene. ” 

I said as I pointed with my hoof not even bothering to look at the three of them. 

“I am Arcanum Folklore, and I know ya aren't really responsible for what is behind us. Trust me, I can tell.” 

I then heard the scribbling of pen on paper. I then noticed that the direction of the sound is the trail of sickly King in Yellow Ether. I trotted following it, ignoring everyone as I got closer and I saw her. 

Octavia Philharmonic, I saw dozens upon dozens of papers on top and around a mahogany desk, with what I could tell was a composition. 

She looked worse then when I first saw her, her bowtie missing altogether and her mane disheveled to a degree that it looked like that of a hag. Her fur was wet from sweat, and as I drew closer and took a look at her eyes I saw that they were red and unmoving. Signs that she was in a hypnotic trance. 

“How long has she been like this?” I asked. I’ll admit that I was genuinely worried, and I was also probing for data.

“I don’t know, All I know is that I found the mess out there. And she doesn’t care for anything else. I was-”

“You figured that ya might as well leave when ya could.” I said with rather high irritation especially considering that the pain on the Yellow Sign on the back of me neck was being particularly difficult. 

This hit a nerve.

“Excuse me!? She has been ignoring me, and doesn’t seem like she wants to stop. Who am I to force her to come with me if she doesn’t want to!?” 

I then proceeded to backhoof her hard enough to send her across the room. She even rolled twice on the floor from the force. I could hear the muffled sound of  “Motherfucker.” As she covered her mouth. 

“Are ya daft, or just selfish? What part of her behavior seems natural to ya? She is under the influence of ethereal forces. As in, ‘Magick’. She isn’t laboring there out of her own will.” 

Her eyes opened at that. And quickly got on all fours and galloped to Octavia. I decided not to get in her way, since I figure that she could snap her out of her hypnotic state once she stopped thinking for herself for a single moment. 

“Tavi snap ou-” Was the last words that Vinyl Scratch said, ever as in less time that it takes to blink an eye a golden string with a golden hook materialized and ripped apart Vinyl’s throat. Some of her blood hit me face as I witnessed it in slight shock. But then the pain in the back of me neck became unbearable and I fell on me knees and I screamed.

“GHAA!” 

With that Luna simply had enough and intervened. 

“We cannot even-. This beith ludicrous!” She said that as she manifested luminous elder signs around Octavia and electrocuted her. Octavia screamed briefly. “AAHH!” She then lost consciousness and her head slumped on the desk. Stopping what I guessed to be an ectoplasmic manifestation of the King in Yellow. 

Vinyl was holding onto her throat for dear life, doing her best to stop the still present bleeding. As such Luna telekinetically grabbed on to her and the now unconscious Octavia she then charged her horn and teleported out of there with both of them. At me best guess back to the Hospital. 

The pain stopped. I got back up and everypony just stood there wondering. 

What can I say? I was dead wrong and I am stallion enough to admit that.

“What in fucking sheol’s honest bloody fuckery just happened!?” said Merry with what can only be described as confusion and inexplicable shock and slight horror. 

I decided not to go into detail and say it in the most simple of terms. 

“I fucked the situation into oblivion, sheol, and tartarus, and I also placed a civilian in harm's way.” 

She huffed and trotted to me side.

“Yeah, no bloody shit!” She exclaimed with the sort of sardonicism that I thought that she wasn’t capable of. 

“Look you go search in the manor study, any locations and names we may need should be there, if you find them come look for me. I’ll take a look at what is left of Arpeggio and Greenteeth. I think that I can anchor Arpeggio’s spirit to what is left of his body and interrogate him.” 

She looked at me with slight realization and decide to back off. 

“All right, I do not want to be there when you do that. Come on Valor, we should get to that study.” 

He then retorted with a. “Really?” And then she blankly stared at him. “Really.” She said. 

They both left post haste not even bothering to care if they disturbed the murder scene. Trailing some blood in their rapid hoofsteps. 

Straightened myself out and then I went to the remaining body of Arpeggio Philharmonic. I telekinetically pulled out all five of me throwing knives. I then telekinetically dragged on the diagonally ripped half upper body and single left forehoof of Arpeggio Philharmonic on the ornate Skorpanian style carpet. 

I then telekinetically at once stabbed all five knives around the body, I then pyrokinetically burned a pentagram and charged me the horn, making the pentagram and the knives glow me orange aura. 

Then a swirling vortex of ectoplasm manifest from the wall and, static electricity. To be fair, despite me knowing this is the usual effect of binding the ethereal luminous body of a magick practitioner I still was impressed with myself. 

Then smoking blob of ectoplasm formed, and from it formed the face of Arpeggio Philharmonic. 

He looked at me with genuine fear and said the following. “How is this even possible!?” 

I with horn still glowing said. “I know that ya might not remember me, but we did share a glance in Manehattan about a little under ten months ago.” 

He then looked at me with anger contorting his face. “You! Aren’t you supposed to be dead?” 

I smirked, considering what I found out. “Oh? And here I thought you knew. So, can you give me the locations of any Thule Esoteric Order gathering places and a proper list of members?” 

“Hehehehe… Really? That is what you want to ask me? I have to admit, I would have killed you where you stand for asking that question had I been in a different condition. But considering that I am dead, I guess I no longer owe them any loyalty. All information can be found in my desk inside my study under closed cabinets and inside of an enchanted safe also located there. You will need mine or my wife’s blood to open any of them, though I doubt you are going to have a problem finding that. Even for a half-breed like yourself.” 

I smirked viciously at that. He knew enough about me to know that me mother was earthen. I had what I needed, so then I proceeded to the real reason I bound his ethereal luminous body. 

I pulled out my snubbed-.44 and shot his laying body in his left forehoof. The sound of pierced flesh was rather satisfying.

BLAM! 

“AAAGH! What are you doing!? Stop it!” 

BLAM!

I shot him again in the shoulder. 

“AUGH! STOP IT!!” 

I then looked him in the eye. 

“Yes, ye are right. Me mother was earthen. But, here is the thing.” 

BLAM! 
I shot his right eye off.

“UUUUUGH! You son of a bitch! Do you have any idea what you are doing!?”

“Even if I am tortured, or injured I will fight to survive. I crawled out of a puddle of me own blood with most of me bones broken and a lead gas pipe through me chest, to just continue chasing ya down.” 

BLAM! 

I shot him in the left side of his face. 

“AAAAAAAAAAA! I beg of you! Stop!” 

“Ye should suffer as I did, as Octavia ya own flesh and blood did. I am the messenger that will deliver ya to that pain and understanding.” 

I then burn a triangle over his heart with me pyrokinesis. 

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!” 

I then see it, the pit, and his spectral eyes open to feel a force pulling him. I see the souls of many holding on to what would be his fetlocks had he been alive. 

“I see yer wife comrades and several ponies whose deaths ya were indirectly responsible holding on to yer fetlocks. I see them, I feel them Arpeggio. They don’t want ya to escape. Ye should not ignore them. It is of course exactly what you deserve.” 

I trot into the circle and place my snubbed-.44 at his corpse's forehead, right under his horn. And with one last shot. 

“NOOOOOOOO! YOU WILL PAY FOR THIS WARLOCK! A THOUSAND INFERNOS AWAIT YOU, THIS I SWEAR!” 

I hear from all around me as his desperation reached a fever pitch, he knew what awaited him in the bowels of the inferno. 

BLAM!

His head explodes like a warm and fleshy rotten watermelon with a cherry bomb inside. This covered the upper part of me coat and the bottom part of me face in blood, turning off me Jade Dragon Cigarette. 

The ether dispersed and the ectoplasm blew downward for a couple of seconds as it was being sucked into the debts of Sheol itself. The blood curling wail of agony sounded almost music like to me ears.

And then it was over. 

I telekinetically pulled out me throwing knives and placed them back in me black-overcoat. 

I looked and I saw Merry staring at me with fear in her eyes. 

Regardless, I decided to keep going. 

“Merry, I got what we need.” I pulled out me Kurdish dagger, which I then telekinetically coated in some of his blood.

After that Merry didn’t say a word to me and we both trotted towards the manor study. We opened and found all files and records regarding the Thule Esoteric Order without fault. 

When Luna came back she did so with the Equestrian Civil Service in tow. They took all of the documents they could. She didn’t say a word and neither did Merry or Valor. We got what we came for and once we took a look and decided to go to the nearest of the Thule Esoteric Order facilities. 

A place thought to be an abandoned mixed-vegetable cannery in the Canterlot Industrial area in the Pegasus District.
> Chapter XXV: The Damned and the Dead
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Canterlot Industrial Area, Pegasus District. 1:32 PM

When we arrived it looked abandoned but it did not take me long to sense the massive movements of ether; movement that by itself was odd. No clear indication of what emanated it, animal, plant, or sapient, it indicated all three, yet blended in some sort of constant shifting movement. It boggled my understanding of biology and ether, my understanding of nature. 

There was this moss, velvet-purple in appearance in patches around the open interior of the factory, everything except for any foodstuffs was there, gathering dust or covered in the alien-like purple moss. 

The entire place looked like operations were shut down in a rush, sure nothing of the product that was produced here was here, but all of the cans and labels were. It had a feeling of something akin to a shakedown sell. The business owner might have been coerced to sell the place and shut down operations by force, and the place was almost left as it was during work hours. 

I followed the purple moss and the wild shifting ether across the Canneries production floor. The Moss became denser and more prominent as we were reaching the back of the building until we reached the entrance to the basement. It was an ordinary steel door like it is expected to be in many factories, with the usual employees only written in bold yellow letters. It was surprising, and suspiciously unlocked despite me not feeling any disturbances in the ether emanating from it. Behind that door were the stairs that lead to the basement. The basement was filled with spare parts for the machines, that were all gathering dust and even had some rust in them, but more than that the whole place was almost completely covered in that dreadful purple moss all except for the iron door in the back, the iron door that leads further underground into Canterlot Mountain. It wasn’t locked, and its pristine condition indicated regular maintenance. 

Nothing stopped us, and all of the ether electric lights seemed to turn on by themselves. It was a trap, but one that I had confidence is in our best interest to trigger back then. I was so wrong. So, so wrong. 

We reached something, incredible machinery within several laboratory workstations, and next to it a massive tank of water containing four of the abominations known as Shoggoths swirling in their amorphous state, that now seemed tamed and docile, at least compared to the ones that I witnessed in the sewers. Several from what I assumed to be reinforced concrete columns littered the room serving as support beams, for if I considered it there would be no point to build this into the mountain unless you needed protection that the Canterlot Mountain stone and quartz crystals provided. The room also had the three massive circuit breaker panels connected to small terminals on the right wall, which like the left wall was littered with pipes probably hiding cables and steam lines. 

We stopped and looked around, Princess Luna, Merry, and Valor still kept talking to a minimum since some hours ago. 

“Where are they?” I asked. 

And then I heard something, the sound of hooves hitting steel. 

“Ah, Herr Lieutenant! How long has it been, five years?” 

Me eyes shrunk to the size of pinpricks. I recognized that accent, that voice, and only ‘he’ called me by me former rank. The fear crept in and I sweated bullets with the thought that he had returned. 

I looked ahead past the workstations to see him. A white, black-maned unicorn stallion who wore a lab coat with a Black Sun on the right forehoof sleeve of his coat, looked as if nothing had ever happened to him. 

I instinctively reacted and whipped out me snubbed.44, and shot him in the horn, it exploded in bloody bony shards. He looked upwards as if he merely had been kicked softly in the head. He wasn’t a unicorn anymore, because if he was that would have made his head explode like a rotting pumpkin with a pinless grenade inside, and that terrified me. 

He did not say a word, he started to smile like the mad stallion he was

He then looks back at me and the bloodied area where his horn should have been glowed in a sickly neon-green aura. 

His horn reformed, and in a mere couple of seconds is back in its place as if the damage was never done. 

“Glad to see you are as spirited as ever Herr Lieutenant!” 

He just kept smiling that maddening smile, staring at us with those eyes of raw more profound madness. And I knew then that both anger and fear were in me mind. For sweat in me brow, and the clenching of me teeth told me so. 

I then let the word slip out of me mouth. 

“Reanimator…” 

In the strange and hidden places of the world there exist things long forgotten by the modern world, whispered only among those that know both how to listen to the Earth and the Cosmos and at the same time practice deep magick. 

Only something from those places could explain what I was seeing, for there was Reanimator, who despite his name I thought was deceased indefinitely. The fact that I cut open his chest with a longsword and then shoved a fragmentation grenade down the opening in his chest and bucked him of a precipice into a pit of mutated dinosaurs, reducing him to less than chunky pieces of flesh should be enough indication of me certainty up to that point. 

And with strange eons even death may die…

“I have to admit, I never expected you to be in the company of the Kamikaze, or should I call her Princess Luna?”

Princess Luna's eyes narrowed and her ears went back on her head. Her tail swished. Some static electricity could be seen forming on her fur. Arching from one spot on her skin to the next, she was like a storm in the shape of a stunning and unusually tall mare.

No, please Luna does not be foolhardy and goad that 'thing'into doing something nasty, not yet. 

I still need time to figure out his plan. Jumping headlong into traps tends to shorten one's life. But Luna was never known for her restraint. She was going to share her opinion no matter what. I could feel that a terrible trap was gaping wider and waiting for us to just stumble blindly forward.  

With a tone colder than the infinite depths of space, Princess Luna tore into the Re-animator. 

“Thou seems to know a great many things Re-Animator. But thou beith no stallion. No, thou beith no Equine, only daemons possess such eyes."

A cold smile crossed Reanimator's face. A terrible smile, bleeding terrible purpose. 

A chill raced down my back. The stench of doom permeated the air, like the smell of a rotting corpse sitting inside an open barrel of stale beer under the tropical central Zebrican sun. 

He smiled baring sharp teeth, white like porcelain, and yet not out of place, his mouth watered evidenced by the dripping of his drool from his lips. Like a Tiger, sadistic and joyful. He kills for sport more often than hunger. And his lack of nervousness or restraint in the presence of Luna’s magical weight class uneased me. His ethereal presence was all over the place yet still appearing no larger than that of a moderately powerful wizard, but in the back of my mind, a part of me was screaming that it was all a massive load of crap, mostly because of the constant shift between plant and animal ethers.

“Ah frauline, I am flattered you think so. I did not spend years attempting to break the restraint that is equanity only for that effort to not bear any fruit.” 

Then something unexpected happened. Tentacles. 

They appeared from green spheres that materialized around Princess Luna. She didn't bother casting a full domed barrier. No, instead she used the surrounding ether and her own to send a shockwave of cutting wind. The glowing neon-green tentacles were sliced to ribbons spreading neon-green splatter around her. 

KRACKA-TUM! 

In a flash of lightning and the boom of thunder she vanished and reappeared a meter above, and at that moment materialized an ethereal spear made of solid magick. It had a design different from the featureless oversized toothpick she used last time. Reminiscent of a Gallic spear of the late pre-Celestia era, the ectoplasmic smoke it emanated made it clear that its design was conjured from memory. 

She then added the Elder Sign branch-like brand to the spearhead's blade in the blink of an eye and threw it with monstrous force. 

Reanimator had acquired strange powers, more so than the last time we faced each other. The confirmation of this was when he managed to stop the spear mere centimeters from his face and then used his abnormal neon green magick to explode it into steel fragments and splinters, but being an ethereal construct made from magick the pieces went up in ectoplasmic smoke. 

Princess Luna naturally was surprised, her eyes focused but wide open and sweat starting to form on her brow. As I was looking at her face she let herself fall, landing on the reinforced concrete floor with ease, but only slightly less alert as I noticed by her lack of a solid stance, as she was too bewildered to react properly. I didn't have a grip on the extent of Reanimator’s abilities or how they worked now, as I could take they changed drastically since last time, that was terrifying, to the point that I considered the possibility that none of us would make it out of this place alive. 

Only for the ectoplasmic gas permeating the surrounding air to form into seven buckshot-sized solid spheres of neon-green mass that he then fired back at the princess with the speed of gunfire. 

It happened so quickly that Princess Luna wasn’t able to react in time, no barrier, or teleportation happened. Only seven marble-sized projectiles hit her in the left eye, legs, torso, and neck with such speed and force that it not only penetrated her skin, flesh, and bones they sent her flying back onto the transparent Shoggoth tank leaving a crater on the clear and highly resistant reinforced glass, her blood splatter extruding from her mangled body, her black stone tiara falling to the floor shattering on contact. Some of her blood splattered on us. I could feel her power, the ether emanating from it, but unless I had consumed it, and at the time I had no opportunity to do so. It wouldn’t have had much of an effect, but there was another use for it, one that I had already in me head spinning at the time, and I needed to make it work.

All three of us watched dumbstruck how her body slid to the floor with a wet sounding thud and noticed how she bled profusely from her brand new wounds. 

I fearfully said with ice in the pit of my stomach, “Selene!” 

I could hear the words “Rahat!” from Valor, and “That’s impossible…” from Merry. 

I then heard his damned voice say. “Bring sie zu mir.” I knew that was Germanian for ‘Bring her to me.’ I couldn’t let that happen, so I decided to take command. I gave them their orders. 

“Corporal, get to a good spot, provide suppressing fire for Merry, cover her blind spots! Agent, whatever approaches do not let them near the Princess, she is still alive but her body may not respond for the moment. If she dies we cannot let that freak get his hooves on Alicorn's flesh, I dare not think about what he can do with that sort of power. Now both of ya, Reanimator is mine do not dare question it. Got it!?” 

They both responded nervously but on fearful alert, their fight and flight responses kicking into the situation. “Right.” “Roger.”

The wall behind him that was obscured by shadow was made of steel. It split in the middle and retracted to the ceiling and the floor.

Behind that, there were what at first glance looked like a squad of seven heavily armored ponies. Two mechanical limbs extended from their back with G.A.R.’s and Semi-Automatic Double-Barreled Shotguns. And as they galloped to surround us I could not help but hear the slight movement of machinery emanating from them, and it hit me. They were surgically altered to be enhanced by machinery. They were Machined Equines. I could tell they were mostly organic underneath due to the flow of ether that they emanated, but it was stale, like electricity, no indication of minds with a will of their own, like they were being controlled by an outside intelligence. I considered who would willingly do this to themselves, but then it occurred to me that they did not have much of a choice. Which let me think to meself. You are the missing Earthen, modern Draugr brought into a new terrible age.

I activated me trinket and became imperceivable as far as I knew at the time, which allowed me the opportunity to drop a few smoke grenades and telekinetically pull their pins as I galloped and maneuvered around tall reinforced concrete columns that littered the large room. 

The smoke hadn’t filled the whole room but it served as a good visual distraction to allow Merry to get the first shots in with the two G.A.R’s she had been carrying on her back followed by me hearing her jump around on her back hooves as she peppered three of the Machine Equines with automatic rifle fire. Naturally, the Machine Equines were firing back at her ripping apart her black trench coat, nonetheless being unable to slow her down, due to her using her Earthen magic to harden her skin to the point of being mostly bullet resistant. 

RATATATATATATATATATATA!!! BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! RATATATATATATATATATA!!! 

I could hear shots making contact with both metal and flesh, some penetrating, but others bouncing off the heavy steel-ceramic composite armor plating. Some hitting some scalding steam pipes caused the room to fully be engulfed in a semi blinding fog that warmed up the room to an uncomfortable degree. From what I guessed as I was making a stealthy approach, Valor must have gone to attend Princess Luna amidst all of the commotions, hopefully, to get her vital signs and ensure that she remains among the living. 

I pulled the Hyborian Blade of me overcoat, with my right hoof, focused, moving forward with calculated steps towards my target. Could feel the looming presence and mass of Reanimator to me at ten o’clock, his body mass somehow felt larger than what one would expect from sight. I considered this to be a bad sign that he was hiding his true form at that moment. I dared not imagine what sort of horror he became, nor contemplate the sort of things he did to become such a monster. 

Passing the fog of grenade smoke and steam and I came forward with the Hyborian Blade to strike. But as fast as me reaction time is, the decapitating slash of me intent never made contact. Instead, a neon-green tentacle had sprung almost faster than what the eye could see out of Reanimator's mouth forming at the end into a neon-green metallic blade that stopped the Hyborian Blade in its tracks. 

KLING!!!

A blade that struck down a Shoggoth was stopped by him. A cold sweat began to form on me brow; death was at my heels. 

He stood there his lips still in the form of a smile despite his gaping maw protruding the hideous tentacled appendage that filled his mouth, looking at me with the amusement of a cruel child. 

I parried and rolled to the left, forced to deflect another strike from the neon-green tentacle as soon as I stood again. 

I kept moving, staying at the defensive as Reanimator kept toying with me moving his neon-green tentacled appendage that I was having trouble keeping up despite my enhanced reflexes. 

KLING, KLING, KLING, KLING, KLING, KLING, KLING, KLING!

I galloped forward, let go of my telekinetic grip, and caught the Hyperborean Blade in midair with my mouth. With the Hyborian Blade now in me, mouth and I rolled forward barely avoiding a swing as I felt it slice me hat in half. 

The half-second I took to stand up, I saw him violently expand and morph in mere moments into a horrid three-meter tall neon-green lanky, but somehow muscular equinoid figure. I could hear the breaking of bones and the tearing of flesh along with the crackling of static electricity and the vocal sounds of at least seven unidentified beasts coming from his mouth. I could see the massive expansion of his ethereal presence as it became a transparent black, like looking through melted darkened glass flowing down like a waterfall in front of you. His clothing exploded to shreds, his face contorted into a four-sided split-mouth, with predatory yellow razor-sharp fangs, his ears disappeared, with five additional eyes popping up turning completely white and without any indication of them being able to blink. His tail turned into another neon-green tentacle, his mane had fallen to the ground, his hooves grew three large clawed fingers, with such claws gleaming like polished steel, his back became hunched as six tentacles sprang from it and the one that protruded from his mouth split into three. Two fleshy stumps popped up from his back in front of the tentacles. Those stumps protruded bony spikes forward. The unicorn horn in his head was absorbed into the forehead as he grew. His fur was now gone, and he was producing a sickly glow from his skin. 

A loud semi-draconic roar, emanating from what Reanimator had become echoed through the large room drowning out the gunfire and the sound of steel and bone being crushed. It was Latin, a single word. But the voice that spoke it was like that very far removed from a mammal, like something that belonged in a dark pit in place inhospitable to the point of absolute demise to a pony. It was the yell of something akin to a Titan, a monster among monsters, a thing that would bring fear even to gods. A divine monster born from the blackness of space that was then tempered in the plasma of stars. I had never been so afraid or felt so fragile. 

“SANGUINEEEE!!!!”

Fear was always present in me in every life and death struggle, fear is smart, fear means caution, fear means to fight or flight, and I was heavily trained to go for the fight. But now a terror crept in, one that is present in a lesser stallion would not only bring paralyzation but by the desire to end one's own life. 

I resisted the urge to do that meself at that moment. Instead,  I dared to face the horror, for at the very least I could buy time. For a slight tinge of misguided optimism hit me, one that told me that maybe a sufficiently large military force with enough heavy artillery could kill it. But then I thought about it, and maybe he might become like a deity onto himself. 

Then I realized that I had to kill Reanimator then and now, no matter what the cost. 

I then kept moving, uncertain, but with the adrenaline pumping through my veins, I flowed with the ether. For I had reached true focus, and for no stutter or second-guessing was in there, and there was no disparity between my mind and my body.  For magick is I, and I am magick, both parts of the greater whole. So above, and so below. 

Reanimator fired the bone spikes from the fleshy stumps. I had already begun reacting when he did and I galloped out of the way barely avoiding being skewered, I could also hear the impact on the concrete floor as they kept firing at the speed of machine-gun fire, as I galloped, me senses were all on overdrive, picking up every detail of me surroundings as to not lose pace and be impaled several times over like the concrete floor right behind me tail. 

I rolled to the left and then jumped to the right to avoid a burst of bone spikes fire. I was consumed by the adrenalin and every detail surrounding me. 

I then serpentined towards him, a green plasma stream generated from one of his tentacles was aimed at me, and it was only because of the lag time between the gathering of magic and the firing that I reacted in time. I managed to use the Hyborian Blade to deflect it, splitting the stream in several directions surrounding the Hyborian Blade, causing some parts of the surrounding concrete and steel to melt and even glassify on contact. That only was around a few seconds, because I then had to move to the right in response to more bone spikes. 

At this point I brought out my snubbed-44.revolver with incendiary rounds, along with that I channeled ether into me whole body. To both enhance me strength, and also numb my nerves to ward off the pain that was starting to creep up from me ribs, back, and most of all the back of me neck. The energies of the Yellow Sign were starting to ravage me cells, the slight feeling of electrocution coursing through me as well as the disorienting feeling similar to that Magic Mushrooms attacking my senses, and I wasn’t going to let it have me. No one owns me, no god, demon, king, or princess owns me. 

I galloped, jumping at the slash of the bladed tentacle, I then telekinetically moved mid-air to the right to avoid more bone-spikes, the moment I landed, Reanimator leaped towards me and I jumped back avoiding certain death as he smashed his right foreleg claw to the ground cracking and slightly cratering the concrete. 

He stopped in his tracks and stared into the ceiling. 

Reanimator, in a voice, that while it spoke Albion well, but sounded inequine. As if something that was imitating vocal cords but could not quite make it sound mammalian, decided to speak up. 

“I have been to the Plateau of Leng, and I’ve traversed the Dreamlands, Lieutenant. I have learned many truths that the world would consider impossible, or would cause it to shatter if ever revealed. The Thule Esoteric Order and the National Socialists of Germania think that the uberpferd is the golden-haired, blue-eyed, and long-horned unicorn. Once I learned what I learned from my research, I found it laughable that they thought that was the form they thought could acquire true cosmic power. But I learned the ways of the gods in the stars, gods greater than any that might have spawned from our Earth, and in doing so, I learned the fragility of the equine form and the true path to unlimited potential. Can you or Savage say the same?” 

I didn’t care to answer back. I didn’t want to think about it at that moment. So I emptied all six shots of incendiaries from the snubbed. 

BLAM!BLAM!BLAM!BLAM!BLAM!BLAM!

Al six shots hit, each exploding and causing green blood to splatter outward from him. Two hitting his skull, four hitting the left side of his chest. He was twitching slightly at each hit, not even bothering to try and avoid the shots. 

Electricity crackled from his wounds, and to my horror I saw those same wounds bleed, having not been catheterized at all, and then in an instant close, leaving behind a sudden splotch of blood as if to mock me. 

That was enough firepower to bring down a reinforced concrete wall, but to him, it barely felt like ordinary bullets, and even then he healed at a monstrous and inconceivable speed, unlike anything I had ever seen before. Then I heard his voice, all around me, and inside my head with a purpose that is dreadful as it is absolute.

“You are all insignificant, your works and all that was the fruit of that stumbling labor are built upon the bones left behind by the titans; the Great Old Ones. Gaze upon me Herr Folklore. Tremble and despair! For I have done what many could only scarcely dream of, for unlike many would-be world conquerors I alone can claim to be on his way to truly be a GOD!” 

He never had the desire to take over the world, to him that was actually beneath him. He considered that it was best to become something more than an Alicorn Demigod, and reach something closer to the gods of the ancient world, then leave the planet, someday maybe even return to watch as the works of equanity become naught but dust. 

I then decided to throw away me snubbed-revolver to the side. I started using the breathing technique taught to me by Master Pai Mei. The Complete Concentration Breath, which was even more effective with the blood of a demigoddess, the power of the transfusion she did to me flowing through me veins. 

I felt a boiling heat flare up as I inhaled. I relaxed the upper part of me body and braced the lower half as I stood bipedally. This breathing technique used by practitioners of the xingese Hokuto Shinken school of assassination and the Nipponese Oni Slayer Corps increases the practitioner's lung capacity. This allows oxygen to reach every cell in one’s body, increasing blood circulation and heart rate. It was originally invented by earthen’s, but it also is effective with all races despite their fragility. 

I pulled out my Kurdish dagger and I jumped. In midair, I used a telekinetic blast to send myself flying to the right, and at the same time I sliced open my left wrist in a swift motion. The higher blood circulation and pressure had that blood spray out and I spilled as much of me own blood on him as I could for the next three seconds as I kept moving around avoiding bone spikes and plasma streams. Using telekinesis to improve my jumping, agility, and even change direction in midair to correct my trajectory. 

Adamant Chains

A circle manifested on the concrete floor, burning into the floor around Reanimator. Five black orbs manifested in equal distance to one another, a pentagram within those orbs, and the orbs themselves served as the points of the pentagram.

The equinoid eldritch abomination that demonstrated to be a monster among monsters, a monster with the ambition to become a god, was to become chained by its blood, but its power bound to the Earth, that was my intention. 

The chains came from the orbs wrapping around Reanimator, his blood and mine lifted off from him and from the various surfaces of what I have come to understand is a Shoggoth Engineering facility. 

My blood, Princess Luna’s blood, and Reanimator’s blood covered the chains, and the chains tightened around Reanimator, who is oddly enough being calm about being bound. And bound by an improvised ritual that summons the very chains that bound the titan Prometheus to mount Strobilos in the Caucasus no less. 

I then stopped with me magic-assisted movement mid-air and landed on my hooves skidding a bit on the hard polished concrete floor. Right after I fell on me hunches and began thinking about stopping myself from bleeding to death. 

I concentrate on me left wrist and pyrokinetically cauterize the self-inflicted wound. 

“AAAHHG!! Fuckin’ Lugh!” 

It was not the first, nor was it the last time that I cauterized me own wounds, but it hurt like a succubus with a fanged vagina all the same.  

I trotted to meet Reaminator’s now beyond the alien face and saw that it was still. I then looked back behind me to see Valor and Merry. Merry was soaked head to hoof in blood, and was a step after what looked like four steel-clad corpses, one with his forelegs ripped-off and left to his side, and himself in a pool of his blood with a steel covered face riddled with bullet-holes and filled with lead. Two of the Machined Equines were missing their heads, and the neck-stumps on their slumped bodies are jagged and dispersed and quite bloody. Indicating that their heads were blown off with their own Double-Auto Shotguns, bits of bone, blood, flesh, and steel were littered around them. One of the Machined Equines was ripped in half from the waist; blood, intestines, and arcing electricity trailing between his upper and bottom half. The other three were nowhere to be seen upon the pools of blood behind and at the hooves of Merry. But the scattered pieces of steel, disembodied limbs, dispersed chunks of white hairless pony heads covered in steel, and other pieces of torsos, waists, and arses were any indication, they exploded. 

Had I been less nervous about the eldritch equinoid abomination in front of me, I would have been sporting the hardest erection of me adult life. 

I looked back at Reanimator, at the same time I could hear the wet hoofsteps of Merry, not to mention her smell, not to mention feel her ethereal presence as she approached me. A certainty, but also a weariness in her step that I too much understand by personal experience. One fear is brought by understanding that what you are facing is something akin to a fresh new hell ready to engulf you in its eternal fire. 

“What. is. THAT!?” Merry says as she approached me left side, with an Auto-Double Shotgun and a G.A.R. (Germanic Automatic Rifle) on her back. 

“I? I am eternal…” Reanimator spoke. 

The Adamant Chains shattered violently, they exploded outward, the black orbed portals closed and the pentagram ceased its glowing. I and Merry barely had time to avoid. Reanimator steadied himself, and Merry threw me the Auto-Double Shotgun to me I stood on me back legs and caught it with me forehooves.

“CIRCLE STRAFE ‘IM!” I yelled the order. It was a standard tactic for hunting hydras, in which the hunting party would gallop around the beast facing it and maintain continuous rifle fire, and the throwing of incendiary bombs to weaken the beast’s lower half enough to render it immobile while avoiding the heads. This is done before going for the coup de grace with the heraclean decapitation and catheterization of the heads. 

We galloped around Reanimator, Merry kept on firing the G.A.R, the bullets puncturing, but the bullet wounds were closing almost as fast as they were made. I kept pyrokinetically igniting patches of air around him, while at the same time firing the Double-Auto Shotgun continuously, the fiery explosions barely making his flesh sizzle, and the 12-gauge buckshot while at the time successfully penetrating had similar results to the bullets. As the wounds closed far too quickly, causing only minor neon-green blood splattering on his skin.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! RATATATATATATATATATATATATATA! Blam! Blam! Blam! Blam! Blam! Blam! 

A myriad of neon-green plasma streams was fired from Reanimator, and we had to break formation to avoid them. The fear that was festering from this entire scenario from the very beginning was rising, making it difficult for me to focus. Panic was starting to settle in, and me training was starting to become utterly useless.

Then it happened. 

The ten tentacles of Reanimator expanded, elongated, and split into thirty neon-green tentacles in total. They were too fast before we both tried to jump back but we were wrapped in the sickly green ether that smells of rotting mushrooms and flesh. 

We were levitated, moved around like dolls being inspected in a factory, and then pulled towards him so quickly and violently that vertigo started to settle in. 

I tried to create an explosive telekinetic shockwave to try to get me and Merry free, but we were then wrapped in the tentacles.

“NOOO!” I yelled.

I felt the Mark of Hastur in the back of me neck burn that was a bad sign, the last thing I needed at the time was to become a puppet. And as I thought that, needles instantly manifested out of the tentacles piercing all the right pressure points at once paralyzing me, and cutting me off from me body’s ether. 

I could still feel pain, the needles retracted, but the tentacles grip on me tightened, I could feel me forelegs, ribs, and back-legs breaking, I heard their distinct cracks as I was being crushed alive. 

“AAAAAAAHHHHH!!” 

Pain, so much pain. 

I was then slammed on the concrete floor, more of me bones break. It then happened again shattering me jaw and taking half of me teeth as well, me face bloodied and me right eye blinded. I was in so much pain, but I could not yell properly, instead what came was the gurgle of me choking in me own blood, then coughing as I spit it out along with me broken teeth onto the floor...

Then my functioning left eye is forced open by smaller tentacles and I am faced in the direction of Bloody Merry as she is wrapped in the tentacles her back legs spread open as she is suspended in the air and a neon-green tentacle is shoved down her throat. Hearing nothing as I see her eyes with a distant look in them and tears trickling down her brick-red cheeks. 

I hear his voice echo as seven different voices at once, all sounding as inequine as the last. 

“I know you have never been fond of my methods Herr Folklore. You even killed me over them in the Hollow Earth. But I can assure you that if history has taught me anything it is that I will not be judged by how I achieved my goals. Instead, I will be judged by what I have ‘created’.”

I then heard all of a sudden the sound of a tentacle suddenly moving towards Merry. Then I heard that sound, that horrible sound, the familiar sounds. I then heard all of a sudden the sound of a tentacle suddenly moving towards Merry. Then I heard that sound, that horrible sound, the familiar sounds. Coming from a sight too personal for me to divulge here. {Aded by the Equestrian Civil Service for the safety of the public.}

I was forced to watch as he expanded that tentacles size to reach in deeper; pumping in and out raping her entrance and womb forming a large bulge half the size of her head, in the same rhythm that the other pumped in and out of her mouth. The other tentacles tightened in involuntary reflex and I heard the sickening loud cracks of her shattering bones coming from her back-legs and forelegs. The tentacle in her mouth removed itself, her eyes already at the size of pinpricks she screamed as any mare would scream. 

“NOOOOO! NOOOOOO!! NOOOOOOOO!!! AAAAAAAHHGG!!!! NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!”

Eventually, she stopped screaming and was reduced to simply whimpering, As I could hear pumps becoming faster and faster. 

But I can tell you that I was seeing red, every part of me mind screamed to fight, to KILL! But I could not move, at least until I felt the burning ether of the King in Yellow flow through my veins painfully healing me nerves and jaw and eyes. 

“AAAAAAAHHHHHHHG!!!!!!” Was all I could yell as with all the strength that I was recovering. And despite having the feeling of being on fire at the time, it allowed me to move. But despite that I struggled more and more and me body still felt restrained. I allowed more of me bones to shatter in my attempt to get free of Reanimator’s demonic grip.

Then I heard as he finished, her abdomen slightly bulging as I his vile gunk filled her to the point that I saw it dripping down from her nethers, but she wasn’t there to yell in agony anymore, she at one point passed out her eyes still wide open. 

He then allowed Merry to drop to the hard concrete floor with a resounding thud, and I saw her blank empty eyes stare back at me. I felt sick, sicker than the first time I killed another sapient, sicker than when I first saw Equine entrails, and as such I ended up vomiting all over meself. 

I then heard the sound of thunder and felt a massive Ether discharge, and as I looked back near the corpses I saw a truly tall mare wearing a solid black plated armor that had edges to the plates and had the motif of a black daemonic hound. 

It looked intimidating, and it radiated its ether signature separate from the mare, one like that of a hungering beast. I could tell despite the armor hiding all of her features that it was Princess Luna in it. On her back though was something akin to a sword, but it was too long, too thick, and way too rough to be a sword, it was closer to a slab of raw iron, a weapon as large as her, and looked to be made for a giant if anything. 

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!” Princess Luna yelled. 

She then extended her armor-encased wings and took flight, her helmet looking like the growling face of a wild Dire-Wolf and in a movement almost too quick for me to follow, impaled Reanimator with the giant blade! His neon-green blood sprayed from the wound and an alien shriek came from him as he let me drop to the floor. 

“SKREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!” 

Then they were both enveloped in Princess Luna’s Ether and in the largest Teleportation I have ever seen both exploded in a ball of lightning and disappeared causing all of the bulbs to explode. 

I saw that with awe. 

I then decided to crawl me way to Merry, every part of me body screaming at me for doing so. And I said with my mind begging me to stop. 

“No one is left behind, I will not let anyone be left behind. Not again...” 

Death was an old friend of ours, we laughed knowing that better ponies would come.
> ChapterXXVI: Why We Once Hid In Fear
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------





There is a distinct difference on how ether from something that can be considered beyond an Earthly god and the ether permeating the world. The former in a way can be considered closer to the Raw Ether, something that was recently discovered back then by astrophysicists, and was a fairly new scientific territory. 

‘Unfit for Life’ is one phrase they used, and it's not a word that the scientific community in any country uses lightly. 

I could understand why. Back then had I not already become something if only slightly above equine, the raw cosmic ethereal energies would have slowly and painfully started to dissolve me into a foul-smelling red puddle. As experiments that I had performed on Changeling and Ghoul body parts when I worked for Doc Savage would have indicated. 

I could still feel me broken bones mending, and me legs recovering their feeling and function. I dragged myself trailing me own blood on the floor as I approached the barely living and broken mare that was Bloody Merry. 

I have never seen that much damage done to a vagina. It was usually dismemberment, stabbing, a gunshot, or poisoning that did mares in me line of work. This sort of thing, being crushed like a bug and being violated in such a way as to mutilate your genitals beyond the capacity of any ritual in the most primitive parts of the world or be recognizable as genitalia concentrated torture of the early Celestia’s Reign era was beyond me personal grasp back then. 

Her walls were expanded slightly beyond the width of a melon and I saw the leftover bulge of the greenish tentacles that penetrate her deep and wide enough to cause bleeding. Her legs were all broken, probably beyond just four places each, and her spine and ribs probably had been riddled with fractures. Not to mention the internal bleeding that probably must have happened due to the shattered leg bones piercing the muscle tissue in them. It wasn’t pretty, nightmares involving the sight would be popping up sometime after that.

The fact that she still had faint breathing, was impressive. Unconscious but barely alive, I wasn’t sure that what I was about to do would work. But I had power, wild, not my own, and within my reach. What was I a self-respecting wizard to do? Let her die? No, I had in truth no choice but to give in to the Yellow Sign Brand on me neck, and then wait out the price it would demand its ‘gifts’. 

I took the subtle offer, I pointed my horn at her. I took Hastur’s power and began mending the mare. 

Her limbs and torso began retaking their original shape, I then flipped her on her back, and saw that her eyes were starting to move, looking around frantically trying to understand her surroundings. 

I could hear the noise of her bones snapping back into place and the breaking and regrowing of them, of the gaps between them being filled with bone and marrow. 

Her entrance closed, and I could see her pelvis slowly regain its shape. 

The bloodstains and the damage done to her trench coat were still present obviously. Not exactly surprising. 

I was mending her body, not reversing time. I knew of lost spellcraft knowledge that could send my mind back in time with the right cocktail of drugs, right radio frequency, and the correct mathematical series of equations but it is extremely dangerous, the activity attracts particularly vicious interdimensional predators. While Starswirl the Bearded did figure out a means to go back in time physically he wisely had them under powerfully enchanted lock and key in the forbidden section of The Canterlot Archives, I dared not contemplate the horrible consequences of actual physical time travel at the time. 

So I saw my hoofwork being finished, and her being brought back into seemingly full health from the razor's edge of falling into the precipice of death. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath watching. Followed by her opening her eyes, her golden pupils shrinking to the size of pinpricks, followed by a blood-curdling scream of sheer terror. 

“AAAAAAAAAAAAA-AAAAAAAAAAA!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!”

I hastily got up, every part of my body screaming at me in pain for me betrayal as I hurried to her side. I quickly concentrated ether to my right hoof and generated a small amperage of static electricity, I then placed the tip of my hoof over a cluster of nerves in the neck that would ensure this would work. The shock was quick and small and knocked her back into unconsciousness. 

This was not good, the experience broke her in ways that I didn’t understand yet back then. There were just as many psychological as well as internal biochemistry problems that probably were surging through her body at the moment. But until I could get her in a hospital and me within a well-equipped laboratory with a few blood samples I wasn't going to get anywhere in beginning to understand the biochemical part of the problem. The psychological one while I understand the cause I had no way of dealing with it. That was because all traumatic stress is different in how the pony reacts to it. And while I have been treated for the strain that continuous combat, being stranded on enemy territory, being tortured, and being anally raped by a Shiba Officer as further torture, I wasn’t a psychologist or a psychiatrist. 

At best all I could do with chemistry is recommend the right sort of medication to keep her healing abilities in top performance and keep her sedated. Another thing I could do back then strapped her up on a chair, have her with an IV (intravenous) Bag with a cocktail of a few select chemicals, and a careful session of magick post-hypnotic suggestion to try and repress the memories, but that might do more harm than good, and also would have probably left her a vegetable. 

I had to get her to a medical facility, a highly secure one preferably, but the problem is that this is Canterlot. Barring the Baltics, me and Merry were the only real soldiers in this whole damned city. This meant that I could only trust the Princesses to guard us, not a terrible thing, but I was worried  Princess Luna might not make it out of the fight with Reanimator alive. 

Sure I could sense her, and she was going strong in the output of ethereal energies. But the problem lies in that all it would take to kill her would be to decapitate her and keep her head removed from her body for seven minutes. If there is no oxygen in the brain to think of using ether there is no regeneration, period. That is the limit of the Celestia and Luna as demi-gods. If they were goddesses or powerful undead, decapitation would be meaningless. So in the end I had that lingering in the back of me head as a worry.

Despite those thoughts though, I  decided that the best option was to carry Merry on me back and try to get us to Canterlot Castle. 

I needed a drug, a strong drug. And I knew where to get those.

______________________________________________________________________________





In the skies above what the world calls the Unicorn Range



The foul equine-made daemon referred to with dread as ‘Re-Animator’ was formidable, and fighting it was like fighting a three-hundred-year-old dragon twice fold. He used Luminus Step for seconds at a time, trying to overwhelm my capacity to deal with his strikes, from different angles, striking with heated ether each time; I lost count after the thirteenth time. 

The cold strong winds in the high heavens; a wind that traveled in streams going faster than history's strongest typhoons also made it difficult for me to also have complete control of my flight.  Though with the utmost honesty, in my state I wasn’t exactly thinking calmly. Me using the ways of the Berserker was both a means of ferocity, and to function on pure battle instinct but it had little in the means of control or focus. Then.

“RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!!!”

I roared as I kept on striking him with lighting, from the dark clouds swirling below us. It had barriers of that sickly aura of his materializing. Taking the strikes as he flew trying to get behind me, presuming that I would let it. Its tentacles trailed behind it as it flew nearly as fast as sound. The Giant's Sword was still wet with his bright and glowing greenish blood, I held it with both my armored hooves as I flew, and used Luminous Step to get close. 

I then swung with the might of mountains expecting to decapitate the foul thing, the tentacles saturated in its ether had other plans and got in the way. The strike severed five large perverse tendrils but stopped the force that I had built up. Leaving the Giant’s Sword embedded deep in the abomination's apparent shoulder. Its loathsome four-way split maw opened gathering its ether for something similar to one of my sister's spells ‘Sol Javelin’. 

I immediately used Luminous Step to evade, it was too close, I barely managed to get behind him a decent distance away and I could still feel some heat in my helmet despite me seeing the ‘Sol Javelin’ shoot it’s a spear-thick pole of solar fire across the sky to the heavens above, and we were pretty high up as it was above the reach of Equestria’s Universal Machine. 

I kept flying, keeping my distance. It flew close behind me casting more ‘Sol Javelins’ as I avoided them, only managing to do so because the time it took to fire was easily readable and I had the swiftness to exploit the predictability of its strikes. As I kept flying, keeping him in my sight I saturated the Berserker Armor, my heavy armor, with not mine but the ambient ether surrounding us. The Giant’s Sword the Dragonslayer had already been soaked in the blood of many beings bound to the ethereal Astral Plains, like the Fay, Demons, and ancient savage Gods, so it resonated with my armor with ease. 

I threw a wild onslaught at the earnest. I swung as I flew, throwing the weight of the Giant’s Sword Dragonslayer forward carrying me with its momentum causing me to spin the blade first hoping that the force would cut straight through it, splitting it in half. 

I did not count on it becoming intangible for at that moment as I passed right through as if it were mere fog. 

It turned back into a solid form as I braced and went again for another attack. We clashed trading blows at speeds only sound could match. Tendrils with the solidness of the best-forged steel and its foul ether-based strikes. My sword strikes kept up with his various limbs, the lighting that I manipulated stroke down the manifestations of his mockeries of my sister’s spells. 

The ethereal energies in the surrounding air were accumulating, the environment becoming more susceptible to our wills and emotions. This caused the whole of the surrounding area to be enveloped in lightning, dark spheres blinked in and out of existence around us no matter in which direction we moved. 

The chaos surrounding us is more primordial than anything Discord could have conjured up, it felt like looking into bubbling swamp water with fish in it killing and eating each other. It was primal, as primal as looking at lionesses on the hunt in Zebrica. It felt terrifying, overwhelming, like being dragged into the bottom of the ocean watching great leviathans and sea serpents slaying and feasting upon each other as you are dragged further and further down. It was a feeling of being beyond pitiful, of being but an ant and seeing an equine for the first time.  

______________________________________________________________________________

It was just like back then… I remembered how that all started. 

When I stumbled into an unknown as yet corner of the Dreamlands hearing the constant distant chant of ‘ia ia Cthulhu fhtagn’. It became constant and increased in its intensity.

I foolishly followed it until I saw a city of unfathomable architecture. One that all I can describe properly into words is that it was non-euclidean. I entered and reached its center. A massive temple complex of non-euclidean and maddeningly insane architecture to a massive crowd of thousands of Ponies, Zebras, Buffalo, Cows, and Gryphons, all covered in strange tattoos of writing I had never seen before in my one-thousand-and-twenty-five years of life. 

That central temple complex was massive, taller, and nearly wider than any mountain that I had ever laid eyes on. And within it was ‘The Great Dreamer’. The thing boggled the imagination, all of its details impossible to correlate and see, but I could feel that there was more. But from what is allowed to be seen as a being of titanic size resting in crouched position bearing the resemblance of roughly an octopus, a dragon, and an ape with long membranous rudimentary wings resting on its back. It had a pulpy tentacled head, with a grotesquely scaly body.

I foolishly approached and it opened its three pairs of eyes. And when I stopped on reflex it slowly reached out one of its flabby claws to my horn, as I could not bring myself to move no matter how much I tried it touched my horns tip, and it showed through that many great and terrible things. 

What I learned drove me to madness, which drove me into self-isolation, that fueled rumors of my condition, and the screaming that I let out whenever I attempted to sleep led to fear and demand for my removal; by execution if necessary. All this led to my hatred, to my frustration, and eventually the birth of the Nightmare. And with that my fall into the abyss. 

______________________________________________________________________________

The remembrance slowed me down just enough to miss a swing and be blasted back by a wave of ether and lightning. This brought me out of my berserker state and in less time than it takes to blink I had to avoid being impaled. 

I was lucky, I wasn't sure the Berserker Armor with its enchanted cursed steel could withstand the tentacles' swiftness and hardness. 

I felt the heat of another ‘Sol Javelin’ approaching. I instantly concentrated ethereal plasma for a ‘Ball Lighting’ spell. I manifested it on the ‘Sol Javelin’s’ path. 

The collision was violent, the ether shell that I manifested barely solidified in time to protect me from the explosion of starfire [plasma]. 

I became discombobulated and began to fall from the heavens, the sheer power of the explosion propelling me at greater speeds than the pull of the Earth would normally allow. 

The icy temperatures gave way to a more tolerable cold. And then impact upon the mountain stone.

My fall shook the top of a snowy mountain, melting and vaporizing the surrounding snow, as the side of its summit was left with a crater trice my size and with me covered in hardened ethereal ectoplasm right in its center. 

I heard more ‘Sol Javelins’ approaching me from above, I shattered my ectoplasmic ethereal shell and entered ‘luminous step’ to the right side of the crater. 

I practically felt the area next to me be reduced to melted glass. The heat made me sweat in my armor, and this time not from the intensity of the situation. I felt fear at that moment, fear like I haven’t felt in centuries. I mentioned at first how it was like fighting an elder dragon, but at that moment it felt like I was facing the void of the cosmos itself. This led me to the decision that it was best to keep moving and avoid the projectiles heading towards my general vicinity.

Flying may have been easier, but I had to throw out more ether to properly maintain sound-like speeds with the added weight of my armor. 

The humidity in the air naturally increased due to the snow evaporating upon contact with the starfire. [plasma] Sure the area outside of our battlefield still was the cold of the high mountains, and the snow was still unscathed, but it was evident that I needed to improvise. 

I used telekinesis to lift the starfire molten rock and fluidly shape it to be a dozen daggers that I then flung at it as I flew low and then ascended. I then promptly used the ‘luminous step’ behind it and wrapped in the patterns of the Elder Sign and the energies of lightning. He attacked me with his tentacles hoping to rip me to pieces in the blink of an eye but I retorted by swinging ‘Dragonslayer’ and for once successfully cleaved through the tentacles, luminescent green blood gushing from the five I managed to sever. As we both entered ‘luminous step’ I noticed that his wounds were not healing back, the realization that only the Elder Sign energized with ethereal energies could harm it and that I could have had a better chance if I had done that from the start. 

We both re-emerged and floated in place. I thought of the possibility that it was doing much as I was, contemplating how to go about the struggle we both faced. The tension in the air made the ropes of the largest Dragon Killing Ballistas pale in comparison. 

It all pointed to the fact that the game had changed for him, it could be harmed now. But something told me there was more to this standstill but I could not exactly place as to what. 

I saw the lava solidify into an obsidian glass, and the snowfall on top of us, as I felt the air cool. 

I then heard it speak to me through my mind and bring forth ideas of terrible intent but not unlike those of warlocks I have faced before. Through either modern machines or ancient flesh, the idea that life is but a mere toy for their amusement seems boorishly universal among their lot, but it disturbed me how far some would go. Especially this one. 

“I always wondered what inspired so much fear, tales to make foals behave, and fascination to conjure up the idea of Nightmare Moon. I, as a mere foal in Germania, was told that she would eat my liver should I ever enter father's old basement laboratory. I always found it odd as a child that a lady could be so frightening. 

“But here you are giving me the best fight I’ve had since my student days in Munich. You know something that I don’t. You’ve wounded me. Which can only mean that I am not the first that you’ve encountered? And that you possess means to exploit a weakness too crucial to overlook.” 

“It seems that unfortunately, I can not allow you to live...” 

Once it was done I was reading myself to the possibility of my death. For I thought then that fleeing wasn’t an option, and that if anything can atone for sins weighing on my damned soul it would be to rid this world of one last great blight. A blight that was terrible enough that here it was with no evidence to the contrary to the truth. That it was being backed by powers beyond my comprehension. 

But then everything was engulfed in light. Blinding light, familiar light, Celestia's light. And calling my name I heard her voice.

“LUNA!” 

______________________________________________________________________________

It was more than explaining why the sun came up, it was the mystery of enormous birds with heads of stallions, and rocks that came to life. So we called them 'gods' and 'demons,' and begged them to spare us and prayed for salvation. 

In time, their numbers dwindled and our numbers rose. The world began to make more sense when there were fewer things to fear. Yet, the unexplained can never truly go away, as if the universe demands the absurd and impossible.

Equanity must not go back to hiding in fear. No one else will protect us, we must stand up for ourselves. - Sir Arcanum Folklore Ph.D., Director of the O.S.S. (Occult Science Service) circa 2  Luna’s Return
> Chapter XXVII: One Final Task
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------





< > Translated from ancient Gallic

In the Unicorn Range

When the fire was first discovered by equine kind it came from a lightning bolt striking a dead tree in the middle of east Zebrica. Though it is often debated if that incident was an accident or the work of a deity. Others argue that it was not the only instance where early Equines first interacted with fire and that similar events were happening around the globe simultaneously around that time. 

The question is who, and why. But the why is the most important one and most difficult to answer.

The question was what was the most advantageous? Coincidence? Or intervention? 

Answering that question will determine the path of all sapients’ in our world…

I say this for it was the very thoughts that coursed through me as I witnessed the sky part by the swing of my sister's legendary golden labrys ax ‘Solbringer’. 

I witnessed the very stars through that tare. Crafted by the remaining Dwarves hidden in the mountains of Norse and forged using the chunk of iron that passed too close to the flames of the Sun and fell in those very same mountains, becoming one of the Dwarves' possessions. 

My sister was wearing her shining suit of armor, forged of the finest steel, her helm left behind perhaps due to its restricting nature. And she brought a cylinder of ‘starfire’ coming from the east through the tare in the sky and splitting into thousands of hoof-sized comets of starlight. 

‘It’ used luminous steps to try and escape the onslaught but the comets of starlight followed him as he reappeared above me and my sister. But then I watched in horror as the ‘comets’ now simply spun around ‘it's as if he commanded the very celestial fire they are composed of. 

My sister did not take very kindly to this visual insult, so she decided to break down the supposed comets causing an unleashed force of starfire to expand and envelope ‘it’ in the flames of our sun. 

She then telekinetically threw it towards the mountains, resulting in another scorching crater in the mountains, the stone in said crater becoming molten and glowing a fiery orange glow as a result. 

My sister looked to her hoof work with worry and sweat in her brow. She was not confident it had worked completely, and she had used enough of her power to harness the true sun that it began to strain her.

<“I can still sense its vile presence.”> 

Said, my sister. Celestia, as powerful as she was, was not a natural warrior. She did not feel that she belonged on the battlefield and did not do much more training than what was deemed necessary. She would seldom create applications in combat for her Magick. And while she came to her own in the Anatolian Serpent Crusades that we involved ourselves with during our journey through the east to Equestria she had no enthusiasm for the bloodshed. 

I thought about how she had slowed down since we last fought together momentarily. But then I heard it, that sound, that horrible sound. Like the simultaneous cries and screams of various forms of life so many that I could not count. I saw ‘its skull devoid of flesh glowing with the intensity of the heat. The seven empty eye sockets still somehow gleaming with the presence of life. I then saw the lack of jaw and the boiling flesh barely clinging to the rest of its bones. It might have been only three hooves taller than we, yet I felt dwarfed by it like I was staring at another giant once more. 

Looking at his body more closely the tentacles were gone, and the claws that were attached to his hooves were still there. Not a hint to a loss of sharpness. 

I contemplated for about a moment and came to a simple conclusion, one that I needed to do without much thinking or regret. It was going to sting… 

 

<“Tia engulf me in starfire!”> 

<“What!?”> She exclaimed. 

<“Just do it!!”> I demanded. 

 

She did as she was told and we felt the heat, the sheer flesh searing inferno enveloping me despite my effort to keep myself in control despite its presence being undeniable just outside of my armor. I moved at the haste of sound and cutting through the wind I used the Giant’s Sword Dragonslayer also covered in glowing starfire, but in addition emanating the Elder Sign that brought up a reaction on the starfire, resonating more like sound than the material of stars. 

I swung the sword of Giants, Dragonslayer, with all the force I could muster. When it made impact cleaved through the Reanimator Abomination in the center of its skull, but the resistance I felt as it did bring fear into my heart, a fear of just what can have a strike of such magick and might slow in its progress, a strike that would have wounded and have Olympians and the Aesir alike, even the Anunnaki and Daemons of Sheol bleeding to death at my hooves.

Nevertheless, I cleaved through both halves of its body, the force of the impact where the Dragonslayer had hit the partially solidified stone that was once lava had split and shattered both halves causing them to explode in opposite directions.

 

The Dragonslayer left an impression on the solidified lava having it shatter leaving behind a long straight crater. The impression of deformed stone gave a testament to the forces used in that strike. There were scattered pieces of boiling flesh and shattered charred bone fragments for as far as ordinary eyes could usually see.

Vapors of the aftermath of this struggle filled the air as they rose to the sky, the surrounding unsettled landscape became scared, deformed, and would be unrecognizable at first glance if not for the blanket of snow that would soon form over it.

I decided to use the spell Kagu Kuroi Hono, to summon the black flames from the bones of Amatsumikaboshi deep in the earth under Aokigahara forest. As the malevolent great spirit of the middle heavens of Nippon; he held a power of a black fire that could burn everything, even Ether itself. He was not the only deity with that ability, but he was distinct for being the only one whose bones after his demise still held the power, the Jujutsu-i and the Mushi-Shi had been using that spell for over sixteen hundred years by the time I learned it when I passed by that island country.

I and sister took our time gathering whatever was left and I set the remains ablaze with the Kagu Kuroi Hono, we did it while lifting the accursed pieces telekinetically off the ground as to not have the fires spread by burning away the stone, it would have burned the air, but I call it off long before it would become something serious.

Once we were done, I stood looking at the sky, now more normal despite the earlier atmospheric changes and the momentary parting of said atmosphere, the sky being gray with snowfall falling upon the peaks where I stood.

I hear sister approach me, the light clang of her golden-like armor gave her away as I heard her steps. I looked at her from where I stood, and I saw that her armor still burned with the fires and heat she had been using earlier.

Looked at me with tired eyes that looked past me thousands of miles back into the Arabic Lands, where she fought dragons and Valusian serpent-quines, the inequine nature of our foe that day must have brought those horrid memories back into her mind. The horrors we both witnessed in those years…

<“Luna, just now, how did you know what to do?”>

I decided to fully turn around and face my sister regarding this matter, my armor’s hound-like helm and helmet pulled back, its enchanted steel reacting to my control over my darker impulses, a control which I doubted I could have maintained for much longer.

<“Folklore gave us a sigil that could allow us to neutralize any ethereal force, a primitive ward against even the rawest and primal of magicks.”>

My sister had an unbecoming mischievous smirk on her face, she knew something. ‘How did she know?’ I would ask myself, Folklore seemed to me like the sort of stallion to keep his affairs with mares to himself, not the sort to be a braggart or have the need to treat any amorous encounter or touch as a prize to hold pride over. He seemed like the type to treat any time with mares in private as an escape from his cruel reality, a private joy that would keep him from going over the edge into despair.

I decided to lie.

 <“He simply explained its shape and function to me, how I should use the ether I pour into it.”>

 Celestia, the scared, scarred, tired, the former shining beacon of hope of the world smiled a jovial smile, one unbecoming of having recently faced death. She moved closer to me, she noticed what she wanted, my flushed face betraying me.

 <“From what Folklore told me you were all too busy fighting what he came to understand are the acolytes of Hastur, his description of the events has me thinking that he had no time to relay in detail that sort of information. So, the only way you knew, was through telepathic infiltration, which with all the havoc the only sort of way to do that with the minimal focus was through touch.”>

 He hadn’t betrayed me then; my sister was just playing games with me.

 <“Exactly, I merely touched him to learn this information as quickly as possible.”>

 And at that moment my annoying older sister Celestia decided to get close to my face and with that smug look of hers.

<“I’ve known three generations of Folklore’s family, husbands, wives, brothers, sisters, and even cousins. His father at the age of fifteen was naught but a factory worker in what was the Underwood Factory located ten miles off the outskirts of Manehattan, not fully a druid or a wizard yet with naught but two spells that he could perform. It was the largest factory-built at the time you know.”>

She then stood back and sat on her haunches with the clanking of her armor making it known that it was there. 

<“A good mile across at its widest, and three stories tall throughout. Underwood himself had a special seven-story tower by the front gate that he lived in. It was designed to be the ultimate factory, capable of taking care of everything, including the housing of workers. Ponies could be born, work, live, and die, without ever leaving the confines of the Factory. In truth, Underwood was a highly powerful warlock and did terrible things beyond measure in that place. No one questioned because the products were so good, that is until a poor mare escaped, got to me and I decided.

 Though by the time we got there we were seeing Underwood himself laughing from the top of his tower, hanging by the neck with his entrails serving as the rope, an eye out of his socket dangling by his cheek, his whole body beaten to a bloodied pulp, both forelegs sliced off, one of his back legs torn off, and his horn broken off.  

I will not say what I and The Guard saw inside that day, I prefer not to, not today.

But I will tell you this, there was a peculiarity in Underwood’s office. A fifteen-year-old unicorn colt covered in splotches of blood, red and what appeared to be green and yellow as well, holding a longsword soaked in blood, in a torn shirt and a waistcoat almost in tatters next to the narrow pipe stabbed into the wooden floor from which Underwoods entrails were tied. That was Compass Lore, Folklore’s father.  I met his father before him, Sword Lore, as a gang leader of the Mulberry Boys, fighting another gang called ‘The Native Equestrians’. That gang was killing immigrants from the Old World that were coming to Equestria saying that they ‘deserved to be back there; Windigos were freezing them to death for a reason.

Point is that I know him better than he knows himself.

He has seven layers of mental telepathic barriers always guarding his mind. The only way those are going down is if he is more relaxed than he should be, drugged, drunk, or he suddenly found himself too flustered to even keep it up. Folklore as a Detective and Hunter of his caliber and disposition is in the busyness of finding and keeping secrets, that mind should normally be like a steel vault in the center of a mountain.  

So only one thing allowed you to use Tactile Telepathy against him and gather all the information you needed quickly.

You kissed him, deeply, tongue first, like the Gaul mares we are, the link to his mind that the spit and the natural blending of ethers over the salaciousness of the act surely made it all the easier to take what you needed within a mere blink of an eye.”>

I was too tired for my eye to even twitch at annoyance at her fragrant display of how accurately she can guess my actions, based on her knowledge of me and the ponies around her. She might have been more powerful than me but in the end, she was less the warrior and more the mover of hearts, a mare that learned how to talk herself out of plenty of problems, if only because of her reluctance to violence.

<“Sister, please. We are too sore for this…”>

She then quickly approached and got close to my face once more. Her eyes with a twinkle of apparent mischief. 

Sister then somewhat slowly wrapped her large ash-stained wings around me, she looked at me with happy eyes, something I hadn’t seen since I returned, and I was freed by Twilight and the rest of the Element Bearers.

<“Lulu, I am just glad. Glad that despite everything your equanity is still there. I was afraid that with you wearing that armor and fighting the way you do, as well as what you did to that prisoner were indications that the madness was returning. But no, you are just fighting as you did before we had to rule. Let us not allow the horrors of our time take away what our ponies built in their absence.”>

I smiled, with the blood of my opponent still staining my armor. Despite it all, I smiled and said with relief.

<“Yes, we shall.”>

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________






Canterlot Royal Hospital 11:33 PM

 
The actions I took that night were done if anything out of a need to salvage Bloody Merry, and me own deluded will that insisted that I could erase what had happened to her. What I had done over the several hours after briefing her Majesty Celestia on the situation was that I had acquired five radios, and five syringes filled with zero point four milligrams each of n-dimethyltryptamine. Arrange the radios in a pentagram written in the blood stored in the hospital’s transfusion supply.

And all of this was going to be brought into one of the surgery rooms.

I was going to rewrite her memory.

A hum at the right frequency was needed. I knew which one based on experiments done by me using decapitated changeling heads kept alive through several devices that Doc Savage and I called the “Mimir System” named after an Aesir famed for his wisdom.

Savage had devised most of it, but he needed me input on the sort of chemical composition of the fluids that would flow through the tubes replacing an equine’s or a changeling’s circulatory system, and of course me to perform the rewriting of memory through hypnosis which we did as an attempt to see if it was possible to reform violent psychopathic criminals.

This was because Equestria technically had outlawed the death sentence back in the year seven-hundred-and-thirty-three. Killing in self-defense or dealing with monsters wasn’t illegal so plenty of police forces throughout Equestria’s more populous coastal cities often killed extremely dangerous individuals on sight and either forged a report to make it seem that the officers' lives were in immediate danger, or the individual was classified as a monster, again forging the reports to make it seem that such a pony was some sort of undead.

Bronze Savage wanted a stop to this to reduce the loss of Equine lives, and in a way prove to himself that there was decency in the bottom of the heart of all ponies. Shame that wasn’t the case.

For that moment Bloody Merry was sedated, bare, and strapped with belts on the surgical table. Her brick-red coat and blond mane were kept well, if only because the nurses went ahead and bathed her as she was unconscious. Her golden eyes were closed, and her breathing was calm and steady.

All of this indicated to me that she could probably take what was coming, but I still felt pangs of guilt as I was going about the motions of performing the very procedure I helped devise.

I decided at that time to spit in the laws of civilization, the will of gods, and the cruelty of the universe. I, in me arrogance believed that I could finally after a lifetime of witnessing and dealing with a tragedy that I had the tools to undo one, to undue the latest in a long line of chains dragging me damned soul ever closer to Sheol. And closer to Botis to have a chance at claiming it.

I heard behind me the hoofsteps, and I felt the ether of, Doctor Needle Vein, the Medical Doctor of internal medicine that I requested once her Highness Princess Celestia had left to aid her younger sister in battle. He had had the same expression of disgust on his face that he had the moment I told him what I needed and what he was going to help me do. As a stallion he looked as tired as me of everything, the darkened circles under his eyes gave way to the sort of sleep deprivation he constantly subjected himself to. He was a unicorn, with somewhat fitting spinach-green fur, and had a test tube and a beaker for a mark, naturally he was also wearing a medical white coat with an ID pined to his right front pocket. And had quite a bit to say.

“What you are about to do warlock, breaks the Ethica Mentis, the Hippocratic Oath, and has a high chance of leaving that poor mare as a mental vegetable. The only reason I am not stopping you is because I am aware I can’t do so physically. But I would cripple you if I could.”

I replied in kind.

“Well, ye suggested the dosage and will be administering the dimethyltryptamine according to the clock, as I take care of playing the Druidic Hum recording and applying mesmerism to the patient. I am just a chemist and a magus, I only told ye what sort of thing would be needed to best make her mind ‘malleable’. That said this is to save her from becoming a vegetable, ye have no idea what sort of incomprehensible torment she was already subjected to. Sending her to a veteran’s psychiatric ward in her home country only has about a fifty-fifty chance of ensuring her recovery, and it might even take a decade, minimum. This is a shot in the dark to see if we can shorten that to about a day.”

He yelled at me after that. He felt just as strongly about his stance as I did of mine, I respected that.

“YOU ARE NOT A GOD! YOU CAN NOT SO BRAZENLY TOY WITH EQUINE MINDS AS IF YOU UNDERSTAND EVERYTHING ABOUT THEM. EVEN THE BEST HYPNOSIS EXPERTS AND DREAMSCAPE TRAVELERS DON’T UNDERSTAND IT COMPLETELY!!!”  

I then looked back at him, I wasn’t exactly in the best state of mind. I was furious, contained, but simply coursing with a rage that would have had once dried river beds suddenly filled with the blood of everything and everypony that would stand between me and what I wanted.

“I am glad I am not a god. A god wouldn’t even care about what happened to her.”

He stood back at that; me tone was that of a possessed fool and madstallion with nothing but murder in the mind. He was afraid of what he was dealing with, and rightfully so. Death is the ultimate justice, the great natural equalizer. Only death would have brought me peace, and only death would I give in return for all that was taken that could have given that to me.  

The nurses came in with a cold sweat. There were only five that I and the good doctor needed.

“I will make the chains that will drag them to the earth and bring the blade that will slit their throats. No more gods, no more temples, and no more sanctuaries for their flock. May the fire that I start bring ruin to all their works...”

 That was the last thing I said before we started. I only hoped that eventually, she would forgive me.

_____________________________________________________________________________

“There is a lid you know? Where the first rift to Sheol was seen by the citizens of what became Petra. A stone platform fifty-six meters wide, and forty-nine meters long etched with complex spell arrays, and saturated with raw ether. It was created by the combined work of three-hundred-and-thirty-three magick wielders. Made in a time when the first shining civilizations were not so shining. When Atlantis, Hyperborea, Mu, and Lemuria were only beginning to look like cities and none of their empires had extended into the rest of the world yet. There you will find the bones of things that translated into Albion were called ‘giants’, in truth they were far worse than the giants that Albion and other westerners think about. They were there waiting for the return of their fathers. And their fathers were made of light and fire…”- Sir Arcanum Folklore Ph.D., Director of the O.S.S. circa 5 Luna’s Return
> Chapter XXVIII: Hyades Part-1
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Canterlot Royal Hospital 11:33 PM

The procedure began, it wasn't something to be taken lightly from an emotional standpoint. This was new, with modern technology, and the use of modern extractions of chemicals ponies had been using for millennia in the form of mushrooms, herbs, and certain fruits I was beginning the process of opening the mind, the ether permeating the whole of our reality, and allowing me to mold her mind. 

Some ponies wonder why it is so difficult to re-write memory. The reason is that while establishing commands using hypnosis adds additional memories in the deep subconscious, memories that one does have do not reside there. Rewriting memory consists of carefully manipulating existing memories and removing parts of memories that are not desired. All that I mentioned means entering the consciousness and linking as if with chains our minds, and that needs a fair share of changes, that thanks to modern science we know now that is as much physical as they are psychological, and those changes involve brain chemistry and a stable flow of ethereal energies. 

The pentagram of blood, the frequency of the throat singing, and the frequency in which I vibrate either allow the connection to happen, the chemicals allow a mind to be easily influenced by me will and focus. 

It is maddening to realize that so much of our perception is not permanent but can be made malleable like clay. How much of the world and history have we lost through sorcery of that manner? It was a question was something that kept showing up again and again in the back of me mind now and again through the years. 

I kept concentration as the radios bellowed the sounds of ritual sung by me ancestors. 

It all went as I expected. 

The procedure only took an hour fifty-five minutes to be precise. 

Fifty-five minutes of throat singing and chants trans on thaumaturgic-resonant frequencies. Fifty-five minutes of staring, and projecting me molding will through the golden eyes of an entranced and restrained and laid down Bloody Merry. Fifty-five minutes in which every eleven minutes a nurse came and injected her with another dose of N-dimethyltryptamine to keep the ethers flowing and our minds linked. Fifty-five minutes of the pentagram of blood emanating arcs of static electricity, and red sparks of ether that swirled the various energies in the air and mine and Bloody Merry’s own together in a vortex that should not be interrupted for the safety of the mesmerizer and the subject. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Mindscape is an abstract place, where thought is seen and felt like an environment rather than some type of verbal narration. To change it one's will must be steadfast, and one's mind must be in absolute focus. 

Bloody Merry's mind was like the forest of Sussex in an early autumn morning. And I felt a breeze, followed its direction to the east, I saw the brown and pale yellow leaves flying in that direction with the wind. They lead me to a snaking ancient-looking and deteriorated path. 

I knew then, that was where I had to go. 

____________________________________

I followed the path, keeping a calm but subtle pace so as to not draw attention to meself. The chirping of birds surrounded me, but also even louder the caws of carrion crows, which were not often active in the morning. As an Erenn, and Merry as an Albion Earthen we both knew the signs of the Morrigan, we had heard stories from our parents as children. We knew when she was near to do what the Morrigan does. 

I only had me usual attire on me, and I was devoid of weapons. Fedora, and black woolen trench coat alone. 

The smell of musk started to permeate the air, it was quite unpleasant. I could make it from a good distance away in the middle of the path. Three large THINGS, horseshoe crab-like, but elongated, fleshy, but also somewhat like mushrooms. They look to be four times the size of a pony and had long rows of insectoid legs on their underbellies. They invite a visceral revulsion into me mind and I understand immediately why; they looked like giant grotesque pale penises. 

I then learned that they moved rather quickly as if they were giant germanian-cockroaches…

They closed in, and I jumped to the oak tree branches and used telekinesis to assist in me movement. One collided with the tree I was on, and it caused it to be uprooted. I immediately jumped to the tree across the path. I landed cleanly on another branch, and all three of them protruded thin tendrils from their apparent backs, about ten each. As thirty tendrils with the thickness of pencils approached me I jumped towards them, and I expanded a telekinetic shockwave surrounding me to push them out of the way as I landed and rolled behind the phallic terrors. 

I was four meters away from them. They then lifted their phallic-like heads and bent themselves over backward. 

They then shot globs of white acidic gunk. As I avoided the shots I noticed and smelled as they ate the leaves, some soil, and parts of bark off oak trees. 

But I had an ace up me sleeve. Something none of ya thought about, I decided to make use of it. I kept moving while I activated me horn and sprung me trap. Thirty-two sharp branches instantaneously in a burst of ethereal energies manifested from the trees I had stood on when the fight started. They in the blink of an eye impaled all three of the phallic terrors, neon-green blood bursting from them. I then looked at them in disgust and applied me magick again, forcing half-meter-long spike-like thorns to burst from the sharp branches ensuring me foes certain demise, even more, neon-green blood splattering from the penile-mushroom-insectoid carcasses. 

Tree Transmogrification was one of the forms of Druidic Sorcery that I was taught by father, knowledge of which had been passed down from me ancestors generation after generation for centuries. 

I then realized that the place, a dream-like idea of the old forest of Sussex, was bringing out of me the Druid that I was and am. Funny thing is that Tree Transmogrification did not work in Central Park back in Manehattan. Apparently too many sewers, foundations, tunnels, and electrical wiring inside pipes for the Ether to flow right. Normally that wasn't a problem for me with other spells, but dense cities like me hometown were not good for forest-based ancient magicks like some of the ones me ancestors practiced.

I used controlled pyrokinesis to dispose of the remains, careful not to set the forest ablaze, in consideration of me not knowing how a forest fire in there might have affected Bloody Merry’s mind. It took a while that I did not keep a track of to reduce the damned things to charcoal. 

I then kept following the path past where I first spotted the phallic terrors. 

I kept going disgusted, and honestly worried about what I had killed. That sort of manifestation was something from her psychological scarring. Something her mind conjured up as an abstract manifestation of profound mental harm. The blood was familiar as well, and it made me grit me teeth. 

______________________________________________________________________________

As I kept going I realized that time seemed non-existent in that place. I had been trotting for hours, yet it still felt like morning. 

Then I smelled water, clean water at that. Then I heard the gentle humming of a mare, and the moving of water in the direction I was going. 

The mare's voice seemed young, but the melody I recognized. It was an old song, older than the princesses, by five hundred years. 

“Avalon’s Heart…” 

I thought about how much something like that meant to Merry and me. I had the beginnings of a tear forming from me eyes. It was an old song. I held no patriotism towards Albion, but the first king of Albion, King Arthur might have been an earthen, but he very much had Erenn and Welsh blood flowing through his veins, such were the old Pendragons’. 

To the entirety of the west, variations of the Arthurian Legend had been part of many a childhood. I wasn't an exception. 

With all of this in me mind, I felt pain yet at the same time great resolve, so I moved forward...
> Chapter XXIX: Hyades Part-2
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

<> Translated from Ancient Greecian

A Small Lake Surrounded by Great Oaks

I followed the path, the curiously damp fallen autumn leaves felt cool underneath me hooves, the lack of temperature somehow being felt through me shoes.

The smell led me to a clear lake with nothing but stones in its debts. The leaves blew around it and meself as the wind seemed intent on caressing me. I began seeing ripples in the water originating in the lake’s center, from it with no indication from the lake floor below a white two curved horned mare with a golden mane rose slowly from the water until she was floating less than two centimeters above the lake.

In her hooves she held a golden longsword, ancient looking, the design not something from the early Celestia’s Reign Era, but Arthurian Era that came soon after the decline and start of the receding of the Romulous Empire.



I had an idea who she was, but I did not want to believe it. If she really was that fay then it brought into mind what Merry actually thought of me, and it just added additional ache into my heart. I failed her, her misguided high expectations are just another link in the chains that will drag me to the bottomless pit.

She then stepped on all fours on the water, the small ripples making themselves known. At that point I realized she was as tall as her highness Celestia and she trotted at a calm pace as if the lake's water were reinforced glass. The sword was floating in front of her with the telekinesis casted by her two horns.

Without thinking I knelt, the reverence I had for the figure before me taking over me usual skepticism.

I then felt the blade touch me shoulder. I knew what that meant, what it signified.

What was she thinking?

I then heard the figure that could only be THE Lady of the Lake, Nimue…

“Be fearless in the face of your enemies.

Be brave and upright, so that you may be favored by the gods.

Speak the truth always, even if it leads to your death.

Safeguard the helpless and do no wrong;

That is your oath.

Now, rise a knight!

And fulfill your duty.”

The blade of the sword was lifted from me shoulder and I stood up looking at her bewildered at what she just did.

“Why? I am not worthy of this. I have done many a wrong. I have lied to gain advantage in wars declared or otherwise, and against me personal enemies! All I have ever done is slay the wicked, and safeguard the helpless to the best of me ability. But even then not all of them managed to survive, and then there were the ones that died by the very instrument of death I had so woefully created… I only fight on because I am one of the few that can, one of the few that know.” I said, with pain in me heart.

She looks at me with pity, and then floats me telekinetically the sword to me face, as if asking me to take it.

“You said it yourself, you are one of the few that can, and one of the few that knows. You still answer the call to those that truly need it. At the bottom of my heart I know that ultimately your goal is to protect the helpless. And right now there is a helpless mare that needs that bravery.”

As if on queue an unnatural roar can be heard traversing the forest, a sound I heard not too long ago. The sound of the amalgamation of countless beings, from thousands of yet unknown species screaming at once, the unnatural pitch… It was its true voice.

I grabbed the hilt with me right forehoof, and took one last look. Wondering how much the blade's appearance was from Merry’s or me own imagination.

I then floated the sword and gripped it with telekinesis. And I galloped out of there looking behind me as I watched Nimue give me an almost pleading look. I decided to look forward, and steel meself for what I had come into this place to do.

______________________________________________________________________________



I galloped as fast as me legs could carry me without spellcraft. I could sense great malice as I kept moving so I decided to make haste, turning once to the right and them the left, followed by me jumping on and off large oak branches with me telekinetically lifting the air around me to manage to jump up to the needed height, and also using telekinesis on my shoes to have a slight grip on the oak tree bark as to not accidentally slip.

Then I saw something that I did not expect to see formed in Merry’s mind. Something I expected more of me. A grand derelict temple seven stories high, one hundred and fifty meters long, and fifty five meters wide. It was in the forest trees as far as the eye could see in all directions surrounding the area of its location in the forest, its roof long destroyed, its design gothic, and plenty of its pillars covered in vines and moss. It was incredible.
I jumped down from the top of the large oak tree I had been standing on and telekinetically cushioned me fall to the leaf-covered ground. I held in me ethereal grip the sword, I trotted slowly, looked around, and tried me best to see if me senses could be translated well into the dreamscape.

They did but they were only limited to me being able to sense living organisms instead of the whole ethereal spectrum.

I could not concentrate to see further. Though I considered this to be natural, this was the mindscape, every detail of our world would not be represented here. Instead just the strange vistas of our own subconscious.

I continued to tread carefully, looking around to what appeared to me was a temple to Mithras that was maybe from the seventh century before Celestia’s Reign, judging its depictions, statues scattered about in the equal distance, and the script that was carved into stone slabs that I could tell were both in Latin and Old Anglo.

At the far end, where the podium that the priest would stand on to give his sermon, was a stone pillar, vines ascending from the floor in a spiral pattern, its green coloring betraying the sheer steel-like solidity that I could observe to be the constitution of their thorns.

Entangled in there the top of the seven-meter-tall pillar was Bloody Merry, her body bare, twisted upon it and the thorns piercing into her skin, causing her to bleed onto the pillar and her blood drips down onto the bottom of the podium below.

She was breathing slowly, tears flowing down her cheeks through closed eyes, but her slight movements indicated that she was barely conscious, but conscious nonetheless.

I telekinetically flicked Excalibur and its blade became engulfed in bright orange plasma, both flickering and yet seemingly dripping outwards as if it were a mixture between liquid and flame, both defying gravity with gusto.

I was planning on using Excalibur’s raw power to slice through the pillar and get her out.

But then I heard it again, the true voice of the monster, the howl of The Reanimator…

A shadow was cast over me and I saw with the sun on its back in the distance what looked like a sick parody of a dragon. It lacked a face, the horseshoe crab head, and its long neck. It had large membranous wings and black snake-like reflective scales that seemed to be as solid as iron, covered in a dark ectoplasmic substance that emanated from it like some sort of smoke.

It came down and landed; it did so with a ground shaking impact that cratered and shattered the temple stone beneath its horrid claws.

Its empty face rippled like a pool of water, whaling it's unnerving composite screech of raw abomination. It split its whole head open into four equal sized mandibles exposing a completely fleshy-pinkish orifice for a mouth.

From it electric arcs followed by a flash of light were the only warning against a stream of green ethereal force plasma, its color indicating a frequency different from the E.F. plasma used by the Golden Robed Ones.

I had already started reacting from the moment it opened its mouth and I lifted me left forearm, with all instinctual thought that this was real and that the Elder Sign was still burned on me skin there. I hear the cracking, crumbling and liquifying of stone in front and on both sides of me, the white smoke and the extreme heat surrounding me for but a second. Luckily it worked, the beam dissipated much like a similar E.F. Plasma had in Midgard. I saw the slight remains of white smoke and solidifying melted stone in front of me and I quickly lowered me left foreleg, readying meself for the constant movement I was about to engage in.

I felt its ether move a second before it did, and I reacted the instant in time it lunged towards me. I then telekinetically propelled meself up into the air, slashing Excalibur sending a blade arc of orange E.F.Plasma. It cut through the stone, and on the surface partially melting off the scales, forming a cut across it as if made by solar plasma.

It roared in pain, and propelled itself upward trying to catch me as I fell. I pushed meself using a telekinetic blast of air and narrowly avoided its horrid unnatural mandibles. I moved the wind to cushion me fall, which I directed to right outside the temple, and in spite of the protest of me hooves I galloped at full speed, and dispersed around me ethereal energies with the hope that they would reach where I needed them to.

I heard the beast, the dragon, IT, flying behind me flapping its horrid wings moving air and wild ether alike to keep itself in the air chasing me.

I took a gamble and decided to try me trap.

I turned and jumped into the forest. It followed suit and predictably flew through the trees. Splitting, and uprooting several and some merely reduced to splinters. I barely managed to maintain enough distance to avoid being eaten, and have me soul and mind reduced to mere chum.

I turned to face him.

“Suffer!” I declared with all me will.

I activated it a myriad of thirty three wooden impalement stakes sharp and as hard as steel, angularly snaked to pierce the scales in the blink of an eye, their entirety extending from log and the roots of the trees where covered on completely in small Elder Signs burned there by me flames, all impaling IT.

Its daemonic screech permeated the air as I saw the neon-green blood spray from its wounds. I decide no to waste time, I take a long breath and go in for the coup de grace with Excalibur. I begin to gallop towards it to get under with the intent of piercing its heart.

ROOOOOOOOOAAARR!!!!

I heard as it broke free from the prison of impalement that I had conjured. Neon green blood, wood splinters, branches, and split logs blasted from around it.

I staggered, watched in bewilderment as it was shrugging off a decisive kill on any other dragon. But not this thing, not even in our minds was IT dragon. It was as Luna Selene said, it was a demon, like none of us had ever seen before. But I wasn’t going to let it exist here any longer. I wanted its DEATH!!

It flew once again, its neon green blood splattering everywhere. I could not let IT escape again.

I formed three rings of ether formed by large Elder Signs in the air, one largest, one of lesser size, and one of lessests size. The sufficient wood around me along with blood that I all gathered telekinetically. With that I formed an oaken spear covered in Elder Signs, strong as steel, sharp as a razor, I gathered the surrounding ether with all the power I could fathom and telekinetically throw the spear through the rings forcing the projectile to break the sound barrier, I could feel a slight but temporary loss of hearing because of it.

It had already flown to enough distance in the air to gather its own ether and ready a blast of E.F. Plasma that would disintegrate the whole area including meself, I could feel its power from where I stood covered in its blood and me sweat.

But IT never got to finish, me projectile reached its heart. I watched as it fell from high up in the sky and back to the soil with a resounding BOOM! A crater formed from what I could see.

I then began the slow trot towards it dragging the blade of Excalibur on the ground instantly burning away the grass it touched. I was covered in smoke, sweat and neon green blood, me body ached all over, but even then I knew that none of what happened would have been possible without me being in a place where me limits were known. I didn’t experiment far, I only limited meself until it escaped the trap I set.

I then reached its body. It still held breath sounding like a broken whistle, yet its face was empty. Blood sprayed out from around the impaled spear in its chest with each breath and the wound was painful in appearance. The scales still seemed solid like iron though, but it didn’t matter. I only had one last thing to do after all.

I readied Excalibur seeking to strike its neck, I let ether flow through the blade and let it form around it a larger blade of fire, one larger than me own body. I then telekinetically swung and sliced its neck being stopped by its spine. I then lifted again and swung it once more this time half way cutting it's dense spine, and finally with one final swing I decapitated it, neon green blood spraying from the stump on its neck, an indent of the large blade left on the ground causing it to shake due to the sheer force. The blade of fire dissipated into smoke, the neck still leaked blood. But I had won, and painfully I screamed at the top of me lungs letting out me mounting frustration throughout these few days. The pain in the back of me neck started to surface, and it only mounted to what I felt.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!!!”

I then trotted towards Bloody Merry heading back to the ruined temple. I trotted past the carcass of the Black Demon and refused to look at it as I continued to drag Excalibur's tip on the grass and soil out of simple exhaustion.

I entered the temple through its front entrance. I saw Bloody Merry there still in her semi-conscious state. I decided to be gentle with her release and I carefully levitated and used Excalibur to carefully cut the thorny vines hearing them drop as I did so. As I mentally kept doing that I neared the pillar stepping over the small pool of Merry’s blood. Once the final vine was severed it fell and with it Bloody Merry herself I stood up on me hind legs and caught her from falling. The fall and her weight brought a light strain on me hind legs, but the weight to me felt like a little victory, I welcomed it and wanted it.

She slowly opened her eyes at me a smile crept up her left hoof touched my cheek and I stared into her light brown eyes, her long blonde mane slightly moving in the air, as it blew towards us from the east.

But then her irises shrunk and her eyes where fully opened in terror, her breathing became fast and erratic, and then it all became black for a second. She wasn't being held in me forelegs anymore, she was gone.

Then brightness. Unforeseen brightness, me eyes strained but I could see. Black stars upon a bright white sky. Beneath a massive black lake of water that smelled clean but still twin black suns seem to sink into the lake due to their apparent size as they set, the sands of its shores gold like the metal and a blanket of still yellow fog that covered it like seeing the remains of a recently departed specter. The whole of the air was heavy and humid more so than expected.

A strange city of massive black domes and monolithic fleshy plant-like towers was seen. I could not tell if the city was above, or behind some unseen further shore in the lake, and disturbingly the rising moon in response to the sunset appear in front of the city, an impossibility according the known astrophysics but no known understanding of the world could be applied there, I felt it the moment I laid eyes upon it all.

I then heard a powerful voice course through me body, and through me head. In me mind and body I felt it. In strangely enough ancient Greecian.

<“A price to the knife, a price to the sword, a price must be paid for the use. Service I demand for these, and in time a service you will willingly give. Carcosa will wait, Hastur is patient, and I as king can wait. When it is done, and I return, tribute from your kind will be the sort I most earnestly await… Warlock…”>

I then heard flute music, loud, strange, but melodic in its composition. Like I was hearing the orderly gears of a clock made of wind.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I fell to the ground with a thud, and I felt the cold floor of the surgery room. I got up groggily and back on all fours. I was awake, and the memory of what I saw haunted me. I saw that Merry was waking up as well, as I saw her stir out of the surgical bed slowly bringing herself to a sitting position.

“Uuuugh, what happened…” Bloody Merry asked as she was placing her right hoof on her forehead massaging her pain away.

Doctor Needle Vein simply stared in disbelief. The nurses that helped with this were not only relieved I saw a couple of them hugging with tears in their eyes.

One of them trotted quickly towards Merry and asked. “Can you see me sweetie? You gave us quite the fright back there.”

Merry simply said, “Yes, I can see fine thank you.”

The nurse simply smiled back at her and said to make sure. “Good, can I please ask you a few questions before we sign you off? We need to make sure everything is in order, you know. Medical stuff.”

Merry rubbed the back of her neck still fighting off the grogginess.

“Yea, yea, love. Better safe than sorry.” Merry said with a combination of relief but at the same time worry in her voice.

I then saw an orange flame appear before me with a letter, I quickly grabbed it with me right hoof. On the envelope it said.

“Lyra Heartstrings…”

Along the shore the cloud waves break,

The twin suns sink behind* the lake,

The shadows lengthen

In Carcosa.

Strange is the night where black stars rise,

And strange moons circle through the skies

But stranger still is

Lost Carcosa.

Songs that the Hyades shall sing,

Where flap the tatters of the King,

Must die unheard in

Dim Carcosa.

Song of my soul, my voice is dead;

Die thou, unsung, as tears unshed

Shall dry and die in

Lost Carcosa.
> Chapter XXX: Musica Universalis
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Fourth month, day six of year 1 L.R 

1:13 AM, the Celestial Archives






Merry, so far only remembered up until we entered the cannery. As far as she is aware we ran into nothing. Her highness Celestia, and her majesty Luna arrived at the surgery room witnessing the overall layout of the radios and the still present pentagram and surgery table.

They didn’t say anything. Because in the end I knew that they had an idea of what had been done. Not exactly. But enough to know that whatever I did had Merry stable enough to be lucid and alert. Luna had seen what had been done to her so she was going to ask questions due to the fact that Bloody Merry was alive, and at the very least physically well. But at the moment we were discussing something more dire.

“From what has been gathered by the Equestrian Civil Service there might have been some indication that Arpeggio Philharmonic had full intention to betray his masters back in the Old World.” 

I said maintaining a tone of voice that seemed professional but betrayed an underlying tinge of anger that bubbled to the surface. I was frustrated and with a feeling of unease. Much as I had been in the last few days. But it just kept getting progressively worse, and holding on to me barrings was proving to be difficult. I had been in the razor thin line of death thrice by that point in the face of the Thule Esoteric Order backed by Germania, and whatever was that served as the agents of something more primal yet potentially endlessly more terrifying that hailed from a distant star that has a longstanding stake in this world… 

With all that in mind naturally Celestia spoke out first.

“And how was he aiming to do that exactly?” 

I thought Celestia already had an idea at the time. But she probably just was asking for confirmation. But made me wonder how she would take in his audacity. 

We had teleported from the Canterlot Royal Hospital about half an hour ago, Valor had been sent to the barracks. The rest of us had gathered in the Celestial archive, Celestia herself summoning from the castle storage through sorcery a large simple table made of solid oak that was varnished thoroughly. The Civil Service had just Dotted Line, a scribe with a typewriter, and a radio with a single operator sitting there observing what we were all saying. Dotted had arranged for everything that was recovered from Philharmonic’s study to be brought there simply because the safest place in Canterlot from what he and Celestia had suspected was under her personal gaze. 

“His initial plan was to control Nightmare Moon, get you out of the picture, it would allow his superiors to swoop in with the Thule as the new centralized leaders of Equestria. Following that he wouldn’t need his daughter anymore and he was foolish enough to believe that would free him from his debt…” 

Celestia reeled back slightly at this, she was getting scared. I was already scared since three days ago. Celestia spoke out. 

“Debt to who?” 

I take a breath and sigh, I hoped back then that the weariness in my eyes did not give the impression of cowardice. 

“The King in Yellow.” 

Celestia’s eyes spoke of a thousand fears, born from a dozen tales. Her eyes opened wider than I had ever seen them and she took a couple of steps back. A cold sweat formed in her white lightly soot stained brow. Her soot darkened a silver armor still on and heard as she moved in reflex. 

“No… How? Starswirl said he was a mere myth when HE was born!” 

I closed me eyes, knowing that I couldn’t be swayed to let up because of a pretty face. I needed to be firm. 

“Ye and I both know that there are no such things as ‘mere-myth’. Every story believed to be true no matter how absurd  has some origin in the annals of time; an event, a thought, a moment, something even as simple as a passing wind can be the seed of a tale. And tales shift and turn like winds and the ocean waves on the whims and misremembering of those that tell them.” 

Celestia stood there, thinking of her response to this. She didn’t doubt the possibility. The Yellow King was something that became tangible during the second Bronze Age in what became known as the Anatolia region. 

The play had been circulating in one way or another for three or so millenia. No matter how many times a nation burned the copies and executed the actors that played it out it always remained, even in underground tunnels, or obscure showings hidden away in the remote towns and villages, or even the worst of the festering slums in the cities. The play refused to stop existing. 

It spread through the entirety of the west, from its origins in Anatolia, to Romulos, then Gaul, Albion, Pict, Scandinavia, Erenn, and even Equestria. And that is just naming the most important ones. 

Thing is that with everything else that had occurred through all those thousands of years it always remained an obscure phenomenon. Only those privy of the occult world like meself and those well read and of long life like Celestia and her immediate family like Luna recognized this as something that was quite real. 

Celestia spoke.

“What did the supposed emissaries of the Yellow King, the golden ones, came to Canterlot University to find? Was it the Al-Azif they were after?”

They could have gone for that, but then why not just ignore us? Then I figured they wanted me dead. 

“No, they wanted me dead. They could have gotten their hooves on the Al-Azif at any time. There was something in the Al-Azif that they did not want me to know. And I have a strong suspicion that killing me would have been easier than destroying it. Thing is that somehow the book is alive. Not a spirit possessing it. It has its own strange inequine soul in it. Regardless it disclosed a plethora of knowledge, all information that I am still trying to piece together in me head. But I can assure ya it is there.” 

I trotted away from the table to get everypony’s attention. As this needed to be made clear.

“I also have something else as a souvenir from me near death experience recently.”

I calmly took off me overcoat and pointed at what I understood to be the Yellow Sign in the back of me neck. 

“A brand, in the shape of what I learned to be the Yellow Sign.” 

Her highness and majesties Celestia and Luna closed their eyes on reflex. Dotted Line took about a second to follow suit with our leaders, the scribe and radio technician were simply confused looking at me with a raised eyebrow wondering what spooked their bosses so much. 

Luna spoke with an understandable reaction. 

“By Hel and Hades, has thine mind gone soft!?” 

Perhaps.

“Hardly, I believe this in particular is just a brand, as the Yellow Signs on the cover of the Play are the ones that induce true obsession. None of ya are in any real risk. Though I do believe through desperation and pain I discovered a problem, and at the same time an answer to said problem.” 

The big wigs opened their eyes, they were confused but so far opted to listen to me as far as I knew. In all honesty not that they had a choice. If I had betrayed them the way they thought for a second I did, they already would be under the influence of the Yellow Sign. They would have become rambling fanatics in no time. 

But I had a working theory on why I was branded and who was branded before me. And for what purpose. 

“When I almost died for the first time this week, I had a vision. A golden cloak, with the shape of a pony within and a pale mask made of white marble. The sheer shock obscured its appearance from me memory. It just couldn’t process it. Like it was protecting itself from whatever it was witnessing. Likely due to the limits of perception that even I possess despite me tallents. Whatever that was, the Equine mind is no longer able to understand what it's witnessing.” 

I notice them trying to swallow what I just said as if it were castor oil. The idea that the brain could do that to protect itself while believable begged the question of what could be so strange and horrible to cause that? I personally suspected that theory of dimensional lairs, and the nature of beings existing within the same universe but being in separate dimensions within it. That we could not due to our biological limits perceive beings in high enough dimensions. The issue is that mediums are born with the ability, and sorcerers of cultures around the world including our own had techniques and spells to do exactly this anyway. Not easy to learn, and downright traumatizing, even suicide incentivizing to the weak willed. But not impossible. Yet I that had both of those things counted among me abilities, yet I could not see. Everything has its limits after all… I feared why I could not see. As I should have.  

“What are you getting at? That you are under the control of this yellow king?” Said the Secretary of the Equestrian Civil Service, Dotted Line. 

“Perhaps, but I will beg all of ya to consider the following. Why hadn’t it persuaded me to bring the likes of Octavia to him?” 

I said. I might not be a mindless drone, but I made a deal. It hasn’t asked the price yet. But it didn’t matter. I was going to do away with that bind soon enough. I had a contingency in place. 

Dotted Line wasn’t exactly amused at this. 

“Perhaps to throw off suspicion? You would easily be able to do it. If what her majesty and other things gleaned from your file. Knowing that we have this information is a good enough deterrent to not have you specifically do it.” 

I took a deep breath and sighed. I guessed that Dotted wasn’t yet privy of what exactly The King in Yellow was. It did not fear us, it had no reason to not have me run off with her on me back at any time. 

So the answer was the one I really did not like. It wanted both me and Octavia for whatever its plan was. And it was placing a bet in me willingly going, it assumes I do not see it as an enemy. But then it hit me. 

How strange. Assumption. 

I did not understand at the time why it was relying on assumption. But then again it may not be the fault of the King, but something or someone else. Someone was feeding selective information to an avatar-representative which itself answered the deity Hastur. 

I wanted to laugh. Ineffective communication, secrets being held or more likely information being ignored by those higher on that totem pole. Hastur was hardly paying attention, The King in Yellow was being assured by a snake-oil merchant, probably a mortal of some kind. 

We are alive because every servant was trying to take as much advantage of their master as possible. It was too good to pass up. 

“Or more likely the King is being given selective information. By someone or something that did not have the means of telepathic reading. Their hubris is our opening.” I said. 

Celestia stepped forward, the contact of her armor against the marble floor being quite audible. She then enquired, understanding the importance of what I was getting at. 

“And how do you intend to exploit it, Folklore?” 

I telepathically picked up me overcoat and then reflexively put it on, I then looked around and I saw the Hyperborean Blade lazily placed next to the radio. I then telekinetically brought it towards sending it flying in me general direction. I grabbed it in mid air with me right hoof looking at me own reflection on the blade in contemplation, and the Elder Sign in its center. I had an answer alright!

“By killing us a priest.” 

______________________________________________________________________________


______________________________________________________________________________

6:13 AM Canterlot Royal Hospital

I trotted with purpose and a heading. On me right side Bloody Merry, not quite here yet, part of me fearing that it's only a matter of time before she remembers again. In front of me her majesty's Celestia and Luna with a few nurses, a couple of doctors, and Celestia’s personal assistant Raven Inkwell, a white colored raven black haired elegant and serious unicorn mare. At that hour I did not expect any mare even with the aid of magic, to be able to make such a neat hair bun so early in the morning. Though I could tell that the annoyance that laid behind those stoic brown eyes. 

The hallways of the hospital were plenty with groggy activity. Everyone going about the motions, still trying to fully wake up. 

“Ya think she is able to talk?” I ask mostly as a courtesy. I knew she would. 

“She can speak fine but she has been through a lot. She is staring into space with melancholy and isn't really that enthusiastic. Maybe we should wait until she has breakfast?” Said Dr. Grass, a leaf green, and blonde Earthen mare internal medicine physician. She was barely awake and her long hair wasn’t in the best of shape, and shared the same tired look in our eyes. 

“She’ll eat as we talk. I am in need of her skill set.” I said as a matter of fact. 

No one was in the mood to question me. 

Then we arrived and a nurse trotted ahead of us and opened the door and let us in. One of the beds had the curtains drawn for privacy. 

And on the white painted metal framed hospital bed was Octavia Philharmonic. Her mane wet and recently comed, and her body like she was recently showered and given a new hospital gown. The sheets covering her legs and waist as she managed to look at us as we entered. 

I saw her eyes, they were not staring at me, they were staring through me. Going through her head a thousand nightmarish memories. Like staring into Sheol on Earth from a spectator seat. A waking nightmare of existence in a way. I knew it too well. 

That wasn’t going to deter me though….

“Miss Octavia? Excuse me for intruding upon what must be quite a trying time for ya, but I need your help. But before we continue I must ask. Have ya heard of the Music of the Spheres?” 

______________________________________________________________________________

Have you seen the Yellow Sign?
> Chapter XXXI: East Wind Solo, K’n-Yan Sends Its regards
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

6:14 AM Canterlot Royal Hospital

Ponies talk about bad omens, often sitting the East Wind sayings. It was always from superstition, but it came from a time when ponies believed that the eastward air currents brought with them plague and vermin. Now we know why. Because some of the most devastating plagues in history all have their origins in the orient, but western European ponies had no idea that there existed settled civilized lands beyond Arabia and Hindia. 

One can argue that the East Wind was a coming, I thought that it came from the Thule coming to us from the Atlantic, but in truth it might as well have been what we came to meet that had come from the subterranean and the orient. For it was a place contested not just by the god of yellow but his brother slumbering and dreaming in the sea. First Blood would be the last blood. I knew that even back then. Part of me constantly chastises meself for only so much as postponing the inevitable. But then some jobs require more than a single lifetime to complete. But truth be told, what I had in mind was less a job and more of a purpose. If I wanted our species to free itself from the inevitability of extinction and civilizational collapse, I needed to figure out a way to form a path to long term collective apotheosis. Make our will and thoughts manifest in reality. 

I needed the world to heed me warnings. 

So for that, I set upon becoming a Hunting Hound, for it was the only way I knew that those two would listen. 

I say this but even I didn’t fully grasp it all when I set about the plan, or as I spoke with Octavia Philharmonic that early dawn morning. 

Her eyes spoke of constant doubt, and pain. The hospital gown slightly clinging to her as she had recently had been bathed by forced to do so as they told me that she hadn’t the will to move. The white hospital bed sheets she used to cover herself from the waist down were being held tightly by her forehooves in a quiet panic where she simply did not know what to do. The entirety of her life has been a quiet metaphorical spinning of the grinding wheel laboring for nothing but contempt. Time for me to work. 

“Ya don’t have to answer that if ya can’t. But it is important. And I’ll bring it up at the end of this little meeting, keep it in mind. 

There is a fact that Greenteeth and Arpeggio Philharmonic were torn apart. But I know you didn’t do it. Do you know why?”

She stared at me confused and more scared than anything. Understandable really. Here I was a stranger claiming that I know everything. Even the things she would think would get her imprisoned or killed. But she still answered. 

“No.” She said with a slight tremble in her voice of the sheer anxiety of dealing with me after what she probably has been through. I am being cruel, but I need her to not metaphorically look away. I need her to be functional even if it is in pure emotional agony. 

“Because I made sure yer father’s soul was dragged to the debts of Sheol. He made it personal between us when he unleashed Nightmare Moon and I was impaled to a wall as a result, as well as arranging for the blowing up of me apartment. Sure I was looking to stop whatever was happening in the first place, but trying to bring back the terror of the Celestial Vault War and use it to takeover the country because he felt insecure that his Earthen daughter was better than he would ever be at making music, which destroyed his unicorn pride. But then that is me interpretation as a stallion that considers him an adversary.” 

“I-I… What do you want!?” She said, trying to see where this was going, because she sees this unicorn claiming to be able to send souls to Sheol with the casual annoyance of throwing out rotting garbage while also claiming that her hated father unleashed Nightmare Moon. As a result she might see a delusional hobo, or a demon wearing some poor stallion's skin.

I lowered me black woolen overcoat and showed her the Yellow Sign brand on me neck. Then I got on the side of the bed and closed the distance between my face and hers. I kept eye contact, mostly to see how she was taking it. Her eyes shrank, and I noticed a slight trembling on her forehooves. But me point was more important, and I had to tell her. 

“I want ya to write a song, for a counter-ritual. For ya see the representative of the being that placed us both in its debt is looking to enter our realm and the song ya wrote last night had the right harmonizing frequency to manifest itself permanently and freely here in the physical plane. The song need not be finished since they already got what it was after. I want to break that harmony and trap it in-between to free us both from it collecting upon our cursed loans. I am a chemist and sorcerer and as such I can fancy meself in the ways of symbology, science, and mathematics. Maybe poetry on occasion. But I have never composed music. That said the ideas that are present in music about the interrupting of many sounds into a proper structure is much like the universe and its Music of the Spheres, whether by chance or design they harmonize into a working order, which is why in ancient magick music was so important, for before we invented writing all our ideas were expressed through sound. Ye are a legend of music despite ya age, as such I am confident that a piece that is written by yer hoof will suffice to be the keystone in saving our damned souls.” 

She didn’t exactly calm down, or soften up, instead she became attentive. She looked down to focus. She now gets the sort of gamble I am proposing. But even then I could imagine she was wondering if she could trust me at all. 

“Vinyl has been with me since the last few hours, still under anesthesia. I overheard the doctors say that her throat had been split open with a hook. I want nothing more than to cut my strings. But how can I be so sure that you aren't another puppet moving along in its stage?” 

She brought up a good point. But I figured why both of us still had some autonomy. 

"Because neither of us had simply trotted out of here straight into the clutches of our supposed puppeteer. Or as I would call it, our would-be enslaver. The strings are tied, and we are on the stage, but the show hasn't started, and the marionettist has yet to arrive. The music hasn't so much as begun to play. So what do ya say lass? Shouldn't we just be put away? Or would it better to dance to the decadence of sadists for eternity?" 

She was wondering how I could sum us up like this. But probably would also be angry at why I let Vinyl Scratch get her throat cut open like that. 

“Are you sure that it can work? Is it even possible?” 

She asked as if looking for a trickle of hope. But I thought to meself that she was unsure. 

“I am working on information from an old grimoire that can be misinterpreted due to the age of the hoofiscript, and it has a mind of its own and gave me that information. Which in of itself can be a deception. But that said we don’t have other options or time. We can promise this though.” 

I said as both Princess Luna and Princess Celestia opened the door and trotted in followed by a couple of nurses with the hospital breakfast that awaited Ms.Octavia. The sound of the metal cart with the cloche on top covering her hot breakfast next to a pitcher of water and a hot kettle with fresh coffee. 

“That we will do anything to cut the King in Yellow's bridge into our physical plane or die trying.”

I said the declaration with resolve and intention. It was true in me mind that I would rather die before the very pinnacle of decadence would step into our world. 

“Princess Celestia? Luna!? What is happening!?” 

I looked away from her and took a breath and sighed in some minor relief followed by me getting off the bed and trotting next to the princesses side. I was glad that they made it to add some legitimacy to me stunt. Without them outside of forced obedience through fear I held hardly any credibility to those that didn’t know me when it came to massive conspiracies like this one. 

“Folklore uncovered the Thule’s conspiracy and successful release of Nightmare Moon. We have had him investigate the extent to which Arpeggio and his peers were planning to conspire with a foreign power and an international secret society to give them Equestria on a silver platter. But it seems he made a deal with something far worse, and ancient.”

Her highness Celestial spoke firmly, but maintained enough softness in her tone to not intimidate the already anxious mare. 

“And with thy gifts being a direct consequence of the Yellow, we are sure in our heart that it can be used against him. Lord Arpeggio released the Nightmare for his own political ends and irresponsibly called upon powers beyond his understanding, powers feared and shunned by thou's ancient forefathers only to be embraced by aristocracy in their nauseating worship of indulgence.”

Her majesty Luna spoke with a stern scowl, befitting of how personal this whole ordeal was to her. Especially if one had to see herself be cruel to her last remaining family. Impaling one's only sibling to a marble pillar with a Dark Matter spear is not exactly the sort of behavior a pony is comfortable with. Normally.

Octavia thought it out carefully, she now got that this didn't just affect her. So spoke the musical mare, so spoke the cursed daughter.

“I am going to need parchment, and an ink well with a few quills…”

I grinned slightly at the turn of events, I in me own head believed that we could escape what was coming. 

“So spoke the musical mare.” So she did, so she did. 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

8:07 AM Canterlot Pegasus District 

Once our plan was set in motion I got a feeling in the back of mind nagging me that there was unusual ether nearby. Me spine chilled and I could feel the pull of the Yellow. Like chains it almost felt like it could physically drag me to where they wanted me if I did not move on me own. 

I went about leaving the hospital on me own. But neither Marry nor Princess Luna were having any of that. We already sent a message to Lyra Heartstrings through enchanted fire, despite the risk of a skilled enough mage to intercept the ethereal signal and snatch the letter as sabotage. We simply hoped that she would be there at the anointed hour today and that as we predicted we were working within a window of time where our enemies were blind to our actions through inner skullduggery. 

Luna, using illusion, made herself out to look like a mere midnight blue mare with a silver mane, appearing of lower stature without wings and changing her mark to that of a white veil. She kept her brilliant turquoise eyes though, something that I found pleasant. Bloody Merry was right behind her in her usual outfit and was chipper if only because she tried to hide away her obvious worry; Black trench coat, gray tie, and black stockings. Though her amber eyes and blonde mane showed a bit of desaturation, it worried me if there was a slow degenerative effect to the Yellow Ether I used on her. 

They followed me wordlessly because they already knew that if I couldn’t ignore something, it meant that it was important.

Though it was because they were looking with me for something we predicted would happen. The Invitation. I had been contacted by the King in Yellow and was offered power that I was desperate for when I most needed it. So far I have been fighting his influence for the last three days, and once we fully understood the situation we came to the conclusion he would call me to meet his representative here in this realm. His true representative. Arpeggio, Greenteeth, and Me were just potential agents, pieces on a board. But I decided to be glued in place and it was only a matter of time before he brought the scraper to stop me stubborn defiance. 

And I could see the big damned scraper already. 

Light rain had occurred some time while we were in the hospital. So the cobblestone streets, and the roofs still had a wetness to them, and the air felt moist and full of ether flowing through the streets. The sky was still somewhat gray and the cold air could be felt blowing from the east. 

Various ponies, unicorn and earthen alike, where milling about their business, work most likely on their minds. 

Being in the morning nothing and in this part of town in the Pegasus District there was no signs of anyone looking to rob us. Or more likely no one ignorant enough to try is trotting about having enough time to try. Luna though paid attention to what was important. 

“We are starting to feel the pressure of the Yellow; how can magick have this much weight but flow so quickly and erratically? It's as if the growth of trees was as quick air leaving one's lungs!” 

Luna was the demigoddess and understood first what I was going after. I didn’t expect less. Though I worried if she could keep up that illusion with the sort of pain this sort of ether can inflict. Her having that much power actually would be worse because of the almost sapient feel of it as it would react more to something that can oppose it. 

Merry being in her current state due to the very magick of the Yellow itself was becoming aware. Something an earthen mare without psychic abilities and just strength, self-healing, and flexibility enhancement  in her repertoire of earthen body changing magick. Incredible in the use of a Royal Marine and an assassin, but physical change magick is not as taxing on the nerves and psyche like perception magick is. She wasn’t trained for this. 

“What in the Sun’s name is happening, since when did I ever find it this hard to trot? The air, it stinks like rot & death; I hear the sound of flies all around me, but this place is nowhere near that filthy. What is happening to me?” 

Hearing her say that was confirming me suspicions. Which meant that the plan had to be executed no matter what. The East Wind was blowing…

We arrived outside an alley between a stone built pawn shop and a red brick built pizzeria. Both closed due to being too early for busyness for both. I stopped and both Luna and Merry stayed behind me. 

A slight migraine was building up in me as well as a high pitch hum. That was it, what I was waiting for. 

“I’ll go in first.” It was all I could really say. I was lucky that I could muster that with sheer pain that me skull was enduring. 

I went in that alley, and followed the Yellow till it reached something that I should have expected but in the end I placed it in the back of me mind. It was in the back, on the wall of the brick built pizzeria. A mare's body, naked, and cream colored. Over twenty, easily in her thirties. I couldn’t deny it, it was ‘Sweet Side’. She was slumped on that brick wall decapitated, her blood somehow still spilling from her neck, and above the visceral sombering sight was perfectly drawn in her blood the Yellow Sign. Another one of me friends was brutally murdered, this time used as a metaphorical envelope for a message. 

“Come at the witching hour.” Was what the Yellow told me inside me mind.

I took off me felt hat holding it with me right hoof, I held it in me chest begging in me mind that her soul would know rest. But unfortunately I knew better, the means to find where those demons would be was fueled by her soul, denied an afterlife of any sort, existence void, hope gone. 

The pain in me heart over the weight of me failures to quell the cruelty surrounding me creep back into me. I clench me teeth, me body is feeling like it wants to shed tears, with the pressure I feel in me throat, the natural feeling of sorrow. But tears don't show. Sweet’s and Brew were not the best ponies and were former thieves and killers, but they still helped save Horseshoe Bay and tried to go straight. They deserved better than this. Better than me that still kills, and still holds vengeance in me heart. 

I heard the hoof steps of Merry and Luna, they got close enough to see and moved next to me to see the gruesome work of modern art that was before us. 

“No…” Marry said as soon as she saw the corpse. She was sweating up a storm and had her hooves holding back the desire to sob. 

Luna on her end though just stared with pity. Death for all of us was common, but for me and Merry this was somepony we knew, somepony that has helped us more than once and was part of our rapidly dwindling list of friends and family.  

But I knew what I must do. 

“Stand back.” I announced. I placed me hat back on and pulled out me Kurdish Dagger from its sheath inside me overcoat. I knelt down and held up the left forehoof of Sweet Side’s corpse. I carefully cut down her forehoof making sure I hit the artery. I carefully used telekinesis to extract her more fresh blood. 

I did so and telekinetically compacted her blood to a dense blood red compass needle with a black tip in one of its ends. It without me input solidified on its own. Revealing the sort of enchantment I expected to be in Sweet Side’s body. While I did not have a specific enchantment in mind I knew they would have one in place to show some means of finding the direction they wanted us to head towards. 

I then placed the needle with me magick on me right hoof and it spun once before it pointed in a specific direction. One I compared to a normal compass I had in me left coat pocket, the direction we had to follow was roughly south-east. The Yellow dissipated, and we had a heading but there were two things. 

“Ladies, we need to make a phone call to bring in a carriage and a body bag. And for our safety we may need to bring the whole of the Baltic Guard for our meeting with Lyra for the plan.” 

Luna raised an eyebrow at this, but I looked at her with as much certainty as I could muster. And naturally worded her doubt. 

“Folklore, does ye think it be wise?” 

I wasn’t backing down.

“Yes your highness, the whole guard. But I also think we should later go back to Canterlot Castle, arm up and ask Princess Celestia for a very important favor.” 

I wasn’t heading in the needles direction blindly. It seems that the post hypnotic suggestion I used on Valor would be needed after all if the sort of trap they set is the one I think they will use. 

______________________________________________________________________________

1:12 PM Underneath Canterlot Castle 




Princess Celestia listened to what I had to say over lunch. She hesitantly brought me here to a place she only knew of. She led me through at least three different secret passageways that were well maintained so I doubted she didn’t tell the servants that took care of them. 

When we arrived I saw a large and bright circular domed room with a permanent light in the center of its roof, whom I suspected was being kept on with the charge of the carefully carved seven triangular quartz crystals that were placed at an equal circular distance from each other as if to serve as the points of a precisely engineered heptagram. 

The entire room was the size of a large masterfully built Romulus Temple. Seventy square meters in circumference and forty two meters tall. The entire thing was made in carved white stone in an ancient classical and gothic architectural style hybrid that could only be the result of design cooperation between mages, mathematicians, and master stone masons. Precisely placed sarcophagi with the carved images of pre-Celestia’s Reign knights on their lids were abound in the room. 

This entire place was a spiritual fortress to keep evil at bay from reaching the bodies of the ponies in those sarcophagi. I could tell from the way the ether was so uniform in this place. 

There was one in the very center of it, without a list but with an overgrowth of living white lilies coming spilling from it and clinging to sarcophagus and the stone floor. 

This place was sacred, a place that the honorable dead could call home. 

“What is this place?” I had to ask. Who wouldn’t ask? 

Celestia sat and looked me way. She had been thinking about telling somepony for a long time, it seems. 

“The Mausoleum of the Ironclad. You wanted to know where they were and here they are. Every Ironclad Knight from first to last that has ever served from the order's birth until its disbandment. Here lies the old vanguard of Equestria and the west. Demons, lycanthropes, witches, warlocks, strigoi lords, Serpent Ponies, and opportunistic foreign invaders. After the banishment of my sister and the absence of her sword and before the treaties Equestria needed brave and exceptional warriors to quell the monstrosities left over from Discord’s irresponsible antics, and the Celestial Vault War. Without them Equestria would have broken and become an inhospitable wildland of horrors reducing all equine kind within it to be nothing but cowering prey, running from their cruel fate for as long as they find places to hide, for eventually they would have all been food or playthings for the things that once plagued the whole world.” 

She then looked at me as if she was staring down into the very bottom of me soul. 

"Which begs the question Folklore. What do you want with them?”

I straightened me black overcoat.

“I simply want to ask yer first-born a question.”

______________________________________________________________________________

3:33PM Canterlot Royal Hospital





I just finished the song, the melody had to be tested out but we could only do it once. Like he said it was a gamble. I did this because I felt I could trust him. That genuine hatred he had for my father was real, I could feel it though his eyes and his speech. Normally I wouldn’t be able to read intentions that well but something in his eyes felt so familiar. Like looking at your own eye through a mirror, which was strange granted the amber coloring of his eyes. 

I was still wearing my hospital gown and had been writing on an overbed table they had graciously provided me with along with anything with fruit and honey I could ask for as well as ice coffee. The sugar and caffeine was something that comforted me and kept me alert when things went bad, so at the time I needed as much as they could give me.

As glad as I was about that, the thing was that I couldn’t dwell on it. I needed to get up and brush my teeth and get the nurses to allow me to use the phone and call for Princess Celestia. 

I then heard my door open and I heard a pony trot in. 

The temperature suddenly fell, I could see my breath as the light dimmed. Then the door closed…

“Worthless little ingrate, abusing the power your father foolishly bargained for you to be at least able to dissimulate being something more than some dirt digging planter, destined to just pop out foals and grow food.  

To think the Kings Yellow was wasted on some mare fucking whore like you sickens me. Your father was too soft on you, he might have not loved you but considering he is the grandson of a sick degenerate Earth-Pony fucker I should have known that he made the mistake of thinking of you as the savage beast of labor you truly are.”

The voice was different but it was otherworldly, like it was trying to forcibly contort to sound like a different mare but it couldn’t. But I could tell right away from the sheer venom she spouted that the one speaking was my supposedly dead mother Greenteeth. I don't know how she came back but he warned me about this. 

“And now you plan to help that half-breed killer? Did his cock taste good? Or were you planning to grovel and beg for it when finished doing his bidding and betraying us and burning everything that was left of what we had? Not that it matters. Because I’ll be taking that power back girl!” 

I could tell by the shadow I saw though the hospital curtain draped around my bed. The green glow of her horn. The body is different but I knew that was definitely her in the reigns. 

I acted quickly, I pushed the table away as I threw away the pillow, and grabbed the ‘boomstick’ as he crudely called it. 

I would hardly call what I did aiming as much as it was pointing in the general direction of my target, pulled the trigger and watched through the hole it made through the curtain as her head exploded. 

The wall next to the door was covered in blood and brains. 

I could hear the frantic galloping towards mine and Vinyl's room. And that mare was still passed out with the IV and medication she was on. 

As the door opened and one of the nurses screamed I felt the pain in my throat and tears begin to well up and then fall down my cheeks. 

I got up and a doctor took my gun away from my very hoof, a couple of nurses tackled me and held me down. 

But all I could think of and what I said was. 

“I am free.” 

______________________________________________________________________________

Performance of a predestined event.

Written by their thirst for destruction.

Day and Night. 

We searched hoping to find another trail. 

Leading to heaven.

The Heavens are waiting for motion. 

There is no gain. Only pain, only pain, only pain, only pain. 

My pains don’t exist only to entertain. 
____________________________________________
Count with me, one two three. 

How many liters can you bleed?

How many turns do you need? 

How many lives do you need? 
_____________________________________________
I saw a star lightening up the dark. 

So don’t you stop my fires from burning our everything. 

You and me are nothing but temporary. 

Don’t you start begging for mercy. 

For when I win I won't forgive.

And I shall win, and I shall win!

Yes I shall win your one-sided game.